Pirate's Captive

Peter was standing on the deck of the ship overlooking the ocean. He was the first mate of the crew that was sailing with a full cargo of logs headed from the west coast of America to Britain.
Then, one of the other men shouted "Pirates" and Peter looked up to see the skull and cross bone flag approaching.
Suddenly, their ship was overrun. He pulled his rapier out of his belt and charged. He knocked two pirates into the water before another pirate, this one with a bandana covering his hair, and an eye patch, approached him. There was something oddly familiar it the pirate. But, he couldn't place it exactly. Peter wasn't the kind to hang with pirate types so he couldn't imagine where they could have met. But, the pirate was so familiar.
Though, once the pirate's rapier was drawn, Peter stopped concentrating on recognizing his opponent and concentrated on fighting.
The swordsman across from him was better than himself and, he ended up on his back with a rapier tip against his chest. Peter was sure he was doomed and he began to chant the prayers his nursemaid had taught him in preparation to meet his maker. But then, his opponent lifted his rapier and stared at him for a moment. Then he grabbed a rope that Peter hadn't even noticed was around his belt. In a moment, Peter's hands were bound behind him and tied to his legs, and his captor was leading him onto the opposite ship.
He was pushed into a cabin and the door behind him slammed shut. He pushed against it but it was barred from the outside.
He tried slamming his shoulder against the door but the door was sturdy and held fast. The room was dark but he moved around it until his shin hit something. With some moves that would have given a contortionist a boner, he figured out that he was feeling a bed. He sat down to wait. He was alive, which was something. Alive was certainly better than dead. Even if he was captive.