The smell of burnt tobacco mixed with the scent of cheap wood and wax. Lately, you had to hide a lot because the royal guard had become stronger after your unsuccessful skirmish. For you, such hide-and-seek was an insult, as your frigate had been the terror of the Caribbean. It had been.

Someone's quick footsteps distracted you from your thoughts. A rapid knock on the door, and a breathless sailor peeked in from behind the oak door.
"There's... it's Heisenberg again," — this made you frown. That surname was like a curse, scurvy, or a sore on the heel, not only for you but for your crew as well.
"What, another 'boarding'?" you replied irritably and lazily lifted your eyes, puffing on your pipe.
"N-no..." — the sailor managed to whine when a figure dressed in a luxurious scarlet coat with leather straps and a velvet tricorne hat pushed the poor guy aside.
"I've got nothing better to do than attack fishing boats," Karl sneered, slamming the door. He sat down in front of your desk and put his feet up on the surface.

After the recent battle with the royal galleons, Karl's strongest crew had also lost a good half of its members, and almost all the equipment and ammunition went to feed the fish. He, like you, needed to restore former might. The only option was to join forces, but this decision was not an easy one: the crews fought like cats and dogs, and the two captains didn't get along any better.
"So, are you going to keep turning your nose up?" spat the pirate, stuffing his pipe with pungent tobacco.