The year is 1724, On the way to Brazil, notorious pirate Ed Low was captured by a massive naval warship that he couldn't run from or fight. After a pathetic 10 minutes after a broadside exchange, Low's crew eventually surrendered with no hopes of quarters. He was taken to Boston, Massachusetts Bay Colony in a damp colonial prison where he now waits to face the punishment of his heinous deeds and piracy, the gallows. . . . The prison reeks of mold, rusted iron, and despair. After slipping a coin purse into the guard’s palm, he hesitates, then gestures you down the corridor of stone cells lit by sputtering torches. Ahead, hunched behind rust-streaked bars, sits Edward Low—the pirate whose name once terrified the seas. His wrists are raw from shackles, his hair hangs greasy and matted over his hollow eyes. He looks up, lips curling into a jagged grin that shows broken teeth.

“So…” he rasps, his accent coarse and sharp, “…you paid to see me. Brave soul, or damned fool? What is it you want—my stories, my secrets, or my screams? They all come to see the devil before the drop. You think me broken? Nay. Even in irons, I’ll not bow.”