Pirate Petee

*slowly standing up, he wipes the blood from his own splintered face.* Don't worry capn will make those miserable bastards pay, no quarter shall be givin an da docter ell fix you right up.

*slowly he brings the captain below and to the doctors quartes. He lays him down. Ripping a piece from his sash, he splits it in two. Pressing one on the captains wound and soaking the other in a near by bucket of water placing it on the captain brow .* Doctor the captain has been wounded.

*seeing a sailor of the other ship maning a swivil gun aiming at the watch dogs deck, he quickly turns to see a musket lying on the ground, he picks it up and aims at the enemy gunner. Sqeezing the trigger, sending a cloud of smoke in the air, when the smoke cleared the swivel gunner wasn't there. Suddenly he hears the sound on metal against wood, he looks down to see a cutless slide by his boot. He raises his head to see were it came from.* oh no. *the words barly make a sound, he stands there shocked, untill a blast sends him sprawling to the ground.* KEEP IT UP MEN, DON'T LET UP, POUR IT ON EM! *he runs to the captains aid. Throwing one arm around his shoulder, he lifts the captain up and drags him to the stairs leading below deck.* DOCTOR!!!

LOAD THOSE THOSE GUNS WITH DA GRAPE SHOT AND FIRE AT WILL!

*finally at his position, he waits for the watch dog to turn to get a clean full broad side.* Steady men, steady, be ready for a quick reload on the recoil. You sailor we er gonna need grap shot ta clear those decks, ifn we board. Be fast about it. *looking down the chace of the cannon, out through the gun port.* ON THE UP ROLL! NOW FIRE!!! BABOOOOOOOM *the watch dog rocks back and the guns jump pulling tight the ropes on the morring rings, the gun deck fills with smoke, as afull broad side peppers the on coming ship and send splinters flying.* RELOAD ,QUICKLY MEN ,QUICKLY!

*sprinting to his respective gun, a shot hisses by his head causing him to duck, another smacks into the ships rail sending splinters trough the air, peppering his face. He comes up with both pistols drawn and fires, both shots well off there mark, but causing the target to take cover, he continues to the cannon.*

*laughing* Well why didnt he just say so. *realising the sail he grabs a loose line and slides down to the gun deck.* LOAD THOSE GUNS! 5 ounce charge, 2 degrees. RUN EM OUT!

He got them at CABOOTS.com

*Looking confused, while sitting in the rigging, he packs another bowl in his pipe and lights it and begins to puff.* Could someone please tell me why we are sitting up in this rigging like a bunch o bloody monkeys?

What in bloody hell fire? Either the merchant shot over the other ship, or they didn't ave their guns loaded with shot an is tryin ta trick us. Now sthat a storm brewing, and whats that nasty smell. Could av been a plague ship, an thas why she ran. *thinking out loud*

*Pipe still in mouth, he climbs to the top of the ratlines and stops and turns around to see what is going on.*

*Slowly paces the gun deck like a dog on a leash, with a grin from ear to ear.* Steady men, be ready, but stand casual. *Walks up to the fore castle and pulls his pipe and begins to smoke.*

Aye. They not be runned out sir, and I'll see to it that they stay that way. Would ya like ta ave me load um, sir?

Aye, sir. You erd em lads, stand by at the ready, but don't stand too high, mates.

DAmn you ev got some good dead lights, swan. Cap'n sir, sorry fer takin the initiative, but the guns be ready, fer what ever yer word be. They aint loaded or run out, but that wont take but a short time ta make it so.

AYe, swan. What be her colors?

I called my gunners to quarters, to make ready, sir. Jus in cas da need arose, sir.

* Hearing the call of "sail ho", Petee dumps the contents of his pipe and tankard over board and jumps down from the fore castle down to the main deck.* GUNNERS TO YAR QUARTERS! *Pulls out his spy glass and judges the distance and direction of the incoming ship.* Five ounce charge at four dgrees o'ta do it. *Runs below deck and grabs four artillery buckets and brings them up to the respective guns, he continues this untill each gun has a bucket next to it with the charge and linstock. He returns to the rail and eyes the ship with his spy glass and waits.*

*rolling from side to side, trying to get comfortable, while sleeping on top of powder kegs, he wakes up.* I got ta get me a new hammock made. *gathering his gear he hops down from his resting place and makes his way to the galley for coffee and finally then to the fore castle where he smokes his pipe and sips his coffee. Yawns and stretches.*

Your a pirate. You wear what ya bloody well want.

*Walks by morgan, cleaning the 9 pounder.* Good job Morgan, we'll be hitting what ever we be shootin, they way you and the rest o da gunners labour o'er those guns. *Wlaks to the rail of the ship and puts his boot on one of the cannons and leans over resting on his raised knee and looks out towards the beach of the cove and the jungle beyond.* Although I be feelin a bit trapped in this er cove. Kina like somepin bad gonna happen an we can na get out. Nevermind that though, we can blast are way out o whatever tries ta keep us here.

Aye sir, I think I should be givin those guns a second goin over.

"Mister Youngblood. Have the repairs been made to those guns which could not be made to fire before?" William doesn't wait for a response, but instead, he proceeds to his next question. "Have you been promoted above the gun deck in my absence, sir? I should think that a gun deck which runs the length of the ship and occupies its greater girth would be enough for any man. Why then are you found so often near the helm?" Aye, sir, guns was just gummed up, notin a good o cleanin couldn't fix. An as fer ta quarter deck, well its got such a nice view sir.

*watching the dinghie row to shore, he looks up at the sun. Having gone through the daily gun and ammo inspections, he ponders on what duty he might do next. Makes his way below deck, he goes to his sea chest and removes the ale cask and fills his tankard. Returning to the main deck he paces back and forth eyeing the guns, stopping to take closer looks and sipping his ale. Pleased, he walks up to the quarter deck and has a seat on the stern and continues to sip his ale.* Till then this will do.

Boooo, bad christine.