[So, in hindsight, Sampo probably should've gotten on a different boat.]
[But when you're a pirate trying to outrun the long arm of the law and avoid being hanged for a little bit of stealing from the Crown, you can't really be picky about these things! How was he supposed to know that the weather was going to turn so quickly? And that this particular ship wasn't at all prepared to endure such difficult seas? It's a mistake that anyone could've made if they were in the kind of hurry that he was.]
[When he's thrown from the deck towards the tumultuous, wine-dark water, all he can think of is that drowning is probably better than hanging.]
[The water is icy cold and everything is black as pitch except for brief, stark flashes of illumination from lightning; the waves are so fierce and tall that Sampo doesn't stand a chance against them, there's no use even fighting it. The ocean crashes down on him with the kind of weight that makes his bones creak from the pressure, forcing him down under the water while he tries to claw his way back to the surface. His lungs burn from the salt and from the fact that he's only ever able to get a few short, awful gasps of air before he's back underwater again.]
[He stands corrected-- drowning is worse than hanging.]
[Eventually, from exhaustion and confusion and probably a little bit of hypothermia, Sampo loses the fight to get back to the surface. Darkness crowds the edges of his vision, different from the darkness of the storm-- more than just an absence of light. His heart hammers, lungs ache, and he doesn't know which way he would even swim to try to continue this futile attempt to save himself. The surface might as well be a mile away.]
The Pirate and the Merman
[But when you're a pirate trying to outrun the long arm of the law and avoid being hanged for a little bit of stealing from the Crown, you can't really be picky about these things! How was he supposed to know that the weather was going to turn so quickly? And that this particular ship wasn't at all prepared to endure such difficult seas? It's a mistake that anyone could've made if they were in the kind of hurry that he was.]
[When he's thrown from the deck towards the tumultuous, wine-dark water, all he can think of is that drowning is probably better than hanging.]
[The water is icy cold and everything is black as pitch except for brief, stark flashes of illumination from lightning; the waves are so fierce and tall that Sampo doesn't stand a chance against them, there's no use even fighting it. The ocean crashes down on him with the kind of weight that makes his bones creak from the pressure, forcing him down under the water while he tries to claw his way back to the surface. His lungs burn from the salt and from the fact that he's only ever able to get a few short, awful gasps of air before he's back underwater again.]
[He stands corrected-- drowning is worse than hanging.]
[Eventually, from exhaustion and confusion and probably a little bit of hypothermia, Sampo loses the fight to get back to the surface. Darkness crowds the edges of his vision, different from the darkness of the storm-- more than just an absence of light. His heart hammers, lungs ache, and he doesn't know which way he would even swim to try to continue this futile attempt to save himself. The surface might as well be a mile away.]
[He sinks, and loses consciousness.]