William Brand

The Watch Dog

3,461 posts in this topic

"Th' Dog 's gonna havta find 's in this gale Cap'n," Preston struggled to yell at Dorian, "She's gonna need all th' help she can get."

Dorian nodded and sent to boys about to light and hang the lanterns about the Lucy. Each were to be doubled and tripled near the bow and stern. Captain Lasseter had strict orders to bind them soundly well above the waterline where a rogue wave could not easy squelch the light and deliver the lanterns themselves to the bottom. The boys took an unused oilskin and fashioned a makeshift tarp against the wind and rain where they could light them safely. Strobes of light now began to illuminate the Lucy so that Captain Brand and the crew could hasten their approach and make accurate bearing upon the Lucy.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Captain Brand and Jim stood in silence as the Lucy was made more and more apparent by illumination. They were joined by the Bosun and his mate, the Master Carpenter, and the Sergeant at Arms. "Mark her well, gentlemen! I'll have the frigate near enough to call, but not so near as to threaten them and us!"

"Aye, Sah!" They returned in tandem and each went to his business. Badger and Jack went about the deck shouting out so many instructions as to overlap one another. Jim fell aft to the quarterdeck. Petee was still amidships, instructing his men as they completed the stowing of His Grace. Luc fell aft and bellow to bring word to Eric Franklin, who was securing the stores against the damp.

Greene waited hard by for orders, but made a point of watching the Lucy by a poor glass. He was trying to determine where and what had slowed the Lucy and how she was being tended to. She seemed to be wearing far more canvas about here then she was flying above her, but this was a guess, for the angle was poor and the lighting not so favorable.

William stayed fixed forward, waiting. The sound of mallets was coming back on the wind now, like so many small taps under the roar of rain. William did not like the sound and tried ever so hard not to think of the one ship lost already since departing Martinique.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Captain Lasseter was pleased with all that was being done by his crew to help the ship, and to help Those of the Watch Dog to find them in the storm. A harsh smile, which more resembled a grimace, crossed his face as he observed the work at hand. Again hands changed on the pumps, men checked the security of the fothered sail on the bow, and others checked the lanthorns illuminating the Lucy, making her shine as best as she could as a beacon in the night. Dorian would occasion to pat or caress the rail his hand gripped as he stood on deck amongst the controlled chaos. It was as if he was giving comfort and assurance to the Lucy, letting her know that help was near, it would be alright. At times that seemed uncertain, especially when a large wave broke over her rails and those on deck were washed about, swimming more than not until the water ran out the scuppers. Dorian still kept his eyes shifting from the approaching Frigate and the deck of the Lucy, counting the heartbeats until the Watch Dog was close enough to provide whatever aid she could. At one point when he was shifting his gaze back to the Lucy, Nigel approached with what looked to be a tooth filled smile. Not sure what he could be so happy about, Captain Lasseter gave him a quizzical look. Nigel pointed to the sky.

“Cap’n! Storm’s a-liften’!”

Dorian creased his brow and cocked his head to the side, allowing the rain to strike his cheek full on. He stood this way for a time before slowly beginning to nod.

“Ye may be right, Lad! Though I fear it may jus’ be th’ eye o’ th’ storm! Even so, I’ll take it! ‘Dog’ll be upon us an’ we’ll see wot can be done ta help th’ Lucy!”

“Aye Sah!”

“As you were Mister Brisbane! We’ll see this through!”

Nigel continued to smile as he knuckled his forelock and turned away, headed back to the quarterdeck. The Captain just shook his head and the harsh smile returned as he again turned his attention across the water to the approaching Frigate.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"We're gathering on her now." Jim observed, and in a voice that was not the shout of before, for the tempest had begun to die off a little.

William nodded, his eyes moving between the cutter and sky and back again. "Edge in as you may, Mister Warren."

The Watch Dog continued to wrestle winds that weathered them in their progress and frustrated the bosuns both. The wind was sometimes gone completely and in a moment as contrary again as it had been since nightfall. Badger proved tenacious as that animal that shared his name. He was abrupt, direct, and absolute in all things, while Roberts was everywhere at once. Though decidedly different in form and personality, they made a good team. Melody and countermelody.

William removed himself to the waist of the ship and paced off a short run back and forth along a line.

The Lucy resolved herself and details could now clearly be seen each time she rose from a trough. She was a ship of lights and calls, and gratefully, not a ship of spreading fires and screams. Whatever was happening aboard her now, there was an order to it.

William caught Jack at the elbow as he passed. "Bring me a speaking trumpet."

"Aye, sah."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The rain had let up just so that one was able to squint through the deluge to see the approaching frigate and not have the drops sting so viciously in the eyes. A call above the din had those on deck glance ahead of the bow. Even in the dark of night, the crew could see due east, less black on the horizon.

Preston stood at Dorian's side and watched as the Watch Dog slowly came into view. He elbowed the Captain and pointed across the sea. Dorian nodded.

"Y' hear somethin'?" Preston called to Dorian over the crash of waves against the ship's side. Both men leaned perilously close over the rail.

"William?"

"Aye," replied Captain Lasseter.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: E, ship on the wind, making stern-way with her nose into the wind

Speed: 6 knots steady, into the wind, mounting sea, 4m high with foaming crests

Wind: Near gale conditions, from the ESE

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Ahoy the Lucy!" William shouted out, hard enough to feel the strain of it in his throat, despite the use of the trumpet. It was enough to carry his voice and be understood aboard the cutter.

"Ahoy, the 'Dog!" came back Lasseter's clear voice. "How d' you fair?"

William smiled at the question, since they seemed to fair by greater degrees then the Lucy. She looked unwell in the climate, and William frowned long enough that he forgot to answer quickly enough.

"How is it with you?" came the Captain's voice again and William returned a short, concise description of the frigate. Lasseter returned the hurts of Lucy at once and was so precise as to lay out the urgency of her needs.

William looked first to Jim. Jim was shaking his head with his brow furrowed. "I don't like this calm enough not to gam and put her right. She's not so bad that she's lost and not so right that the sea won't take her."

William turned to Jacob. The Bosun looked back at the darkness from whence they had come. "Navarra is o'erdue for a sighting. Gammin' should bring her upon us." Jack just nodded in assent.

William agreed with them all. He raised the trumpet again. "Prepare to receive line and men!"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

It took a moment for Dorian to answer, for he was slightly taken aback.

“Aye William!”

He had hoped for William to send over the Jollywatt, but this was better. Turning to the crew, Dorian gave the orders.

“A’right men! Prepare ta receive lines! Gather some oakum an’ hemp-line mats ta use between th’ ships, see if we can stop some further damage when we’s hauled in tight!”

Some of the men actually cheered as they ran off to do the Captain’s bidding. All Dorian could do was breathe a sigh of relief and smile. Preston stood close by and coughed into a cloth, then wiped his mouth with it.

“Preston… Glad ta have ye back among th’ living… but… go on b’low an’ outta this weather. I’d like ta keep ye amongst us.”

He looked as if to object, so Dorian continued.

“This ship’ll be the death of us yet, no need ta hurry that along, aye?”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Watch Dog's smallboats went over the side, and down into these went the line, those necessary blocks and many a handpicked man to see to the Lucy's needs. The longboat crossed over bearing the weight of the hemp and she was shadowed by the jollywatt. More than one length of hemp was sent, so that by lines hung high and lines strung low, the ships might gam and pass what cargo they may back and forth. They were some time apart at first as care was used to place them close enough to work, but far enough apart that the smallboats ducked out from between them. Then they came together and the press of ships and men brought the Whole Company together.

What passed for order in that first hour was a kind of orchestrated chaos. There was never a time when an order wasn't carried across both decks by one officer or another. Bosuns answered Bosuns and Masters answered Masters as everyone pitched in when called. Dorian, Preston, William and Jim poured over matters, charts, recommendations, observations, problems, persons and the occasional false sighting of the overdue Navarra.

The greater part of their forces were employed at the pumps and in the stowing of goods to drier places aboard ship or to the heavy holds of the frigate. The 'Dog became the greater island at sea, while the Lucy was carefully righted. She listed less in that hour, but continued to favor her wounded side as the carpenters answered hammers with hammers.

Work was the watchword. No one rested.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Preston had gone below on Dorian's order to see what of the cargo remained aboard and for a report of the repairs. A simple nod and he withdrew himself of careful planning.

He slipped among the men crowded below. Hand over hand of necessities made their way aft and above to be stowed upon the 'Dog. The deck below looked eerily empty as Preston made his way forward to the damage. While he had not known the precise spot, the calls from the ship's carpenters and sufficient banging led him easily.

"How goes it?" he called.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Mister Wenge did not reply, for he while he was standing upright, his face was still below water. The sea was drowning him on his feet as it rushed in upon a new fissure. John Black was next to him with his hands at the hole bracing who knew what while Caleb Millet stood bracing both men from behind. It was impossible to tell what the three men were doing together for the spray, but Mister Black was obliged to turn his head while Wenge held what little air he could while working. Millet had his back to the two and shouted, "Got it well 'n 'and, Sah!"

"Well in hand…?" Preston began, but could say no more for the moment. Any onlooker would have thought that Millet and Black meant to plug the seam with the Master Carpenter.

Liam Rowan and Steven Hudless came up then with so many tools, bits of canvas, old hemp, pins, boards and every other thing a man might need to do half a dozen things.

"May I trouble you fer tha' mallet, sah?" John asked with enough politeness as to be ridiculous. The whole situation was the very fruit of peril summed up through the eyes of a calm and worthy sailor. "There's work 'ere", he added.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Liam nudged Preston aside and dropped the pile in a heap on the deck within John's reach.

Preston stepped well out of the way, but tried to gauge his eye on the work. Impossible to see, but for the fact that the ship's carpenter was under water. 'Not well 't all,' Preston remarked to himself. He watched for a moment longer and then made his way back to the ward room.

Despite the crew's best efforts, the Lucy was sinking fast.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Lucy was starting to lay over hard to one side, so that the cascade which came in at the seam ran down the timbers, but still the carpenters worked. It was not the work that Alder preferred. It had none of the refinement he was gifted for, but he had another gift. Tenacity.

Two of the sailors he had sent forward came up then with no news but the same. They began to report it even as he drowned, almost indifferent to his plight. They weren't of course, but there was a time and place for mere litany and Wenge explained this as he turned his head. Rather than gain any more breath, he used up what he had shouting, "Buckets and pumps! Damn you! Buckets and pumps!" He was not truly angry at either man. His temper was aimed more at the sea herself and the way she had shifted the responsibility of all life aboard from the Captain's shoulders to his. He took a breath and dived back into the task at hand. The task at all their hands.

Outside the desperate confines of the holds things were just as lively. Barrels, cask, kegs, bales, livestock cages, spars, timbers, and everything else that might go over the side went over and down into waiting boats. The Watch Dog's longboat was filled at once, even as the jollywatt left the frigate's side trailing a second line.

Rather than waste any open space for rowers, the longboat was filled throughout and the great cordage now strung between both ships served as a ferry line. Within moments of filling her up, eight men stood atop the laden boat and pulled upon the line, so that the small boat carried over the water with speed while a man kept her true at the tiller. The men were so avid at this business of ferrying goods, that they quite underestimated the momentum of all that mass, and were obliged to wound their hands a bit in slowing it down, lest they do harm to the smallboat, frigate and themselves.

"Steady lads!" Jim called from amidships. "Quick care, but care."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Preston made his way to the door of the ward room. With a breath he swept open the door. Those officers at the table looked up, surprised at his quick return.

"Captain, she's not do'n well. Mayhaps ano'er couple hours."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Captain Brand was not content to simply watch things unfold anymore than anyone else was. He had joined the deck mob employed at the rails rallied there to bring the cutter's cargo aboard ship. No man looked at or spoke of the Lucy as a lost ship, for there was portent and weight in too much talk, so misgivings were self absorbed.

For the moment, William was just another able body amidships following his own orders as they came through Jim. Mister Warren was orchestrating the whole crew with the quick rapidity of combat requirements but with no less calm then a dock boss on an afternoon. For now, everything was ferrying, lifting, hauling and stowing. They might have been at anchor, but for the threat of more rain on approach.

This was a time of orders and order, but for one sneak-thief who pocketed a penny or two while others worked. He slipped among the swinging, but empty hammocks and pilfered a coin here, and a trinket there, careful not to take so much that they might be noticed. Smiling to think how he might drift so quietly away at Trinidad and home again.

His humble ransacking done, he slipped among the rank and file of the decks unchecked by any man.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Where crates needed lifting, Tudor lifted, though many weighed more then half of herself. Where her knack for fitting cargo into odd and tight spaces was needed, she organized. Orders and directions came and she followed them. In the brief lulls, where she could be of no use, she went from crew member to crew member, making sure all had an occasional swig of water. Despite the fact that most had hardly had time to dry out from the rain, most were parched from their labors.

As she looked around the deck and observed the flurry of activity and couldn't help but make her smile, despite all circumstances. What would look like chaos to an outsider, looked to her like a work of art - a mad dance, all intricate choreography and hasty footwork. She took note of each 'dancer' and what work they did, impressed by how every member of crew was pulling their weight - not even the Captain himself held still for long.

Her moment of musings ended as a new load of cargo was being pulled up onto the deck.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Everything was movement, above and below decks. Dorian had heard every word Preston had said of the Lucy with painful clarity, and every fiber of his being rebelled against the though of his ship being lost. Everyone threw in to haul everything of weight off the Lucy to take as much strain off of her. As he made his way to and fro, he heard the strain put on the men in their labour. Hard breathing, grunts, sharp intakes of breath. Everyone was trying to save the Lucy, and this made each man push that much harder. It was not just helping another ship in trouble, it was helping save their ship, even if they were crew of the WatchDog.

When it was said that they were near done offloading Lucy's cargo, Dorian took his leave of the WatchDog and traveled back to the Lucy to go below and see what more could be done.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Lucy was all but emptied of cargo, possessions and men, but she was still crewed enough and supplied enough that the longboats continued to ferry between them.

William returned to his place on the quarterdeck, for there was no need of him as a laborer now. He examined himself for one mean bruise that was forming on his left forearm, but he was more troubled to be wet down the front of his clothes despite his oilskins, for water trapped in the makeshift awning midships had overspilled and baptized him and some eight other men. To counterpoint his discomfort, the sky began a slow, but steady drizzle.

Jim was at his elbow then, his hand sheltering a cup of something warm. "At least the sun's not far off."

"But not so near the Earth." William mumbled as he rung out the front of his shirt and judged the Lucy with the eye of one who has run ships aground to save them.

"There's a fair mist this far out to sea." Jim observed.

"Aye." William noted, and wondered if they had drifted further South and abreast of the mainland and Spanish coasts. Coasts that might be needed for the saving of the Lucy, if it came to it. "Have any man with a skill for wood, be it whittling or workmanship, brought over to the Lucy."

"Aye, sah."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Preston followed closely behind Dorian. Talk between the two was very sparse. Dorian was obviously concerned for the Lucy, the men and their goods and he wore that burden on his face.

The spray hit them at once as they climbed aboard the troubled ship. She had heeled over a bit more since they had left for the Watch Dog. The drizzle had continued, but the wind picked up. Over the rail, they were met by Alder who looked the worse for wear. Dorian now had reason to be more concerned.

Travelling below, the ship now took on a different aura. Preston stopped as he stopped immediately below deck as Alder and Dorian continued to the main section of repair. Peering left and right, all he could compare the Lucy to was a tomb. Devoid of goods, men, and noise- save for the rain above, the tide aside and Alder's men further ahead. A few shaded lanterns cast odd shadows against the bare walls. Preston followed them.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

As the captain of the Lucy and the master carpenter headed to the bow, followed behind by the master at arms, they were slowly rolled as the ship shifted in the breeze that picked up. This was in a way a good thing as it rolled the damaged area upward, closer to the waters surface, and lessened the strain on the already weakened hull. The sound of the men working at the hull almost drowned out the sound of the men feverishly working the pumps on deck. Dorian hoped that the pumps were winning out, but by the level of water in the hold he could not say. Once on the scene of the work, observations were made, thoughts given voice and questions answered as best as could be. Dorian took off his hat and smoothed back his hair as best he could with one hand which paused at the back of his head for a moment before he replaced his hat. A sharp nod was given to Alder before he turned away and began heading aft. As Preston followed at his shoulder, not a word was said for several strides. Finally the captain of the ailing ship spoke.

"If you please, find out if the 'Dog can bare th' weight of th' Lucy's great guns... She'll need ta be light ta be as fast as I can drive 'er... And, all unnecessary crew are ta be aboard th' Dog, I want a volunteer crew aboard, just enough men ta sail her... Just enough not ta burden th' longboat if need be..."

Dorian sounded distant as he said this, his mind working out every detail to ensure the Lucy did not founder - if the gods allowed.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Aboard the Watch Dog

The watches, crews and weather were all a blur together. William had stopped noting the bells long ago and he was weary just for standing. Badger was suddenly at his elbow. "She's no better for bein' lighter!" he shouted as a sudden gust swept the quarterdeck.

It was an observation, not pessimism, so when a sailor at the helm added. "Not two months our shadow and now this."

Badger growled back, "No talk of shadow's and finality, there."

"Sorry, sah. No…" he began , but his companion elbowed him and the man stowed his thoughts.

William ignored this interchange. There was something too present and too driving about the hard rain that made it impossible to care about omens or misgivings. The rain was real, and it was coming on so fast and so exponentially in it's fervor, that his attention was absolutely fixed on the Lucy and the 'Dog as atolls in a deepening sea.

"All prisoners to be held forward with no less than eight men to guard them." William said so quietly that the order was almost not heard. It was spoken like an afterthought or a point almost forgotten, but it was a sign that the little things were remembered along with the great. They were now carrying more prisoners in one place than William liked, but they also bore all of those armed men of the Lucy, so that their compliment of Marines was weighty.

"Aye, sah." Jim returned and went down to see it done personally.

William turned his head then, but not toward Jim as he went. Instead, he turned his head aft as did the Bosun. It was the unconscious act of two men who listen to wind and water. William did it without even thinking about it. Indeed, he was peering into the grey driving rain almost half a minute before he wondered why his attention had been drawn toward the seemingly nothing. He also noted that Jacob was moving aft and up to the sheltering roof of the Ward Room which served as a poop deck.

"What…" was all that William managed and would have inquired further, if his ears had not heard that subtle sound which had hooked his attention, but more clearly now. It was a sharp report of rope and rigging, the slap of wet canvas and the plowing of a bow against an uneven sea.

William's mouth went so dry at once, that he would have laughed to think it so in this weather, but for the reason of the moment. His head whipped back and forth in one quick survey of the open sea between the frigate, the faltering cutter and one long, lonely smallboat in the dangerous abyss between them. He couldn't find his mouth then, dry or not. He couldn't find any order that would prevent what was to come. He couldn't think of anything but for the pale blur of faces in the open sea between the two ships, all of them turned toward that doom which bore down upon them. He knew all of their names. He hadn't thought he had noticed who had gone over into the longboat for another ferrying, but he did. He knew every threatened man.

Time slowed so much then that it ran aground. Every second divided into it's own drawn out breath. Even gravity seemed to drive the rain less.

So employed had they been in the emptying of the cutter, and so distracted by the sea which came in at the damaged parts of the Watch Dog and Lucy, that they had all but forgotten about the Navarra. She was a thing removed and forgotten. Until now.

She came on so suddenly, and bearing so much sail for the weather, that she appeared too large in the moment. She was no bigger than the last time they had seen her of course, but coming on as she did she seemed huge. One moment she was nothing but a blur in a greater blur. She was shadow in the gloom, with no more weight than the rain. Now she loomed, far too real and threatening. She came on like a tidal wave of wood and cargo, and her course was anything but favorable, for while she bore not upon the Lucy, her course would take her too near the 'Dog and upon the longboat.

Despite the terrifying slowing of time, William realized a few too many things. First, the Navarra presented more canvas than reason or even common sense would have dictated. Even if the wind should have carried all her sail away in that moment, the heavy laden merchantmen bore on with enough speed, that momentum alone would have carried her past all the rest of them. Second, her course would no doubt overwhelm the sailors on the water and would likely see the 'Dog as badly off as the Lucy. Third, he hadn't seen the tall Captain of the Lucy above decks. Fourth, he had just enough time to promise himself that if any of them survived, he would throttle every Spanish officer, beginning with their Bosun. "Every sail unfurled." He marveled in his mind. The Watch Dog was carrying none.

Badger was shouting then, or rather screaming. William had almost not noticed it, but that Jacob's voice was suddenly so shrill. William had never heard the Bosun's voice go so high, and the octave awakened his own voice like a slap to the face. Then they were shouting over one another, along with every other sailor of office or none. Protocol be damned.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Aye sah." Preston made his way on deck. He had already begun to make his own list of 'volunteers' for whom he would like to have aboard the Lucy. How to get the great gunns across to the Watch Dog in this mess would be the true test. Upon his last step, Preston heard something above the wind. He turned to the Watch Dog and saw a flurry of men running about, yelling and pointing. He wiped the rain from his eyes. And did it again to make sure what he saw was not a figment of his imagination.

Preston turned and yelled.

"DORIAN!"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

As captain Lasseter had made his way to the Lucy's wardroom, seeing what all he might burden the WatchDog with, and what he would keep aboard to bring her to safety, he pondered many a thing, packing odds and ends in his sea-chest. He had just taken up his well worn cutlass when Preston's voice, as strong as Dorian had ever heard it broke him from his thoughts. The urgency in his voice, and soon after the yells and near screams of many other voices caused him to fetch up a pistol and in a moment was on deck. All eyes were looking aft, and his followed. Then he saw the Navarra as well.

"Mother of God... Bloody Fools!"

As he approached the rail, cutlass in one hand, pistol the other, he cocked the piece, wishing the stern-chasers were loaded to fire a warning, but his pistol would have to do. He aimed at the spanish ship slowly and fired, the report sharp yet weak in the weather.

"Veer off, damn you! Veer-"

It was at that moment he saw the 'Dog's boat in the path of the merchant. Having been through many a battle and wicked event, this simple horror caused him to pale. A memory of his youth flashed before his eyes of a man being run down by a coach and four, but this was infinitely worse.

"Christ All Mighty... No..."

Edited by Dorian Lasseter

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Watch Dog was a cork on the water, though Jacob shouted orders anyway as he ran. How he kept his feet from one deck to the next was anyone's guess, but adrenaline carried him all the way amidships even as William shouted orders across the open air and water. Nothing could be done for the 'Dog that would move her from harms way if harm came, but it didn't stop people from moving. Even amidst the panic there was purpose in everything that happened.

Jim had continued forward in his course and would have halted, but the calls of a ship bearing down upon them made the prisoner issue all the more important. Even before he arrived forward many of the prisoners were standing to see what the commotion was about despite the handful of sailors set to guard them. Jim ordered them back down and when they did not all respond in kind to his shouting, he punched the first man he reached.

"Down! Every one of you down!" he shouted even as the man toppled over like a tree felled among other trees. The prisoners did not dispute the look he gave them.

One very small report sounded from the Lucy. Everyone on the 'Dog noted it, but there was no sign that anyone aboard the Navarra had heard it for what it was; just a whispered warning to deaf ears.

The dauntless merchantmen had almost reached them by then. She was moments away from striking the frigate in passing. Time was moving faster now, catching up with those who head kept their heads and gathering up those who had only just realized the threat. Fate may not be kind, but she had at least shown some amendment in her unkindness, for the Navarra was directly aimed at the frigate on approach. Still, as she came on, William flinched, for it seemed as though the quarter galley might run afoul of the Merchantmen. It occurred to William that the ship was not a month mended on that same side, and it shamed him to think about that while men's lives lay so nakedly vulnerable in the longboat, but his thoughts were thus just the same. He was thinking so fast and so much of what he thought was useless, helpless stuff.

Only a handful of seconds had passed. The Navarra had not altered her course by so much as a point.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Dorian, Preston, and those still aboard the Lucy fell to the rail in fits of yelling and silence.

The scene unfolding before them was one that no matter of noise could stop.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Fear was not an emotion Tudor was well versed in. Concern, discouragement,and the feeling of being against all odds were common enough to her, but a moment of sheer terror where one is frozen and doesn't know if one should flee or fight and cannot see life past the fleeting events right before them - those such feelings had only ever visited Tudor three times in her life. The first time she killed a man, fear shook her. A storm weathered on a small boat in the English Channel paralyzed her in terror. The third moment of horror still haunted her dreams - a field full of fallen commrades.

The sight of the Navarre, plowing through waves with unerring course made her greet fear for a fourth time.

It didn't take much knowledge or logic to discern that the other ships speed was great, too great, and that the seemingly unavoidable results would be catastrophic.

But she refused to be shaken, frozen or give way to the fear. Gritting her teeth, she scanned the deck, looking for the Captain. As she started to move, she wondered to herself if there was anything she would be able to do to help, or even if she would find the Captain before disaster struck.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!


Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.


Sign In Now