The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

Captain Lasseter looked at the snow through his glass again. He watched as the guns that had been fired were hauled in and reloaded. He timed it in heartbeats as the gap of sea-room closed between the ships.

“Yer crew loads fast as molasses… come closer ye bastard… See wot m’boys c’n do…”

Dorian all of a sudden got a quirky grin.

“Load up th’ swivels wi’ roundshot, I think a full broadside should be given ta show ‘em how it’s done, proper-like… Then, Master Whitinferd, doubleshot in th’ great guns would be a fine thing… Aye… a Fine, Thing…”

The Captain turned back to the snow and his grin turned to something akin to a wolf.

[Pew]

Preston nodded and smiled. He went to speak but coughed instead. A cough that wracked his body; one he hadn't had in a while. Dorian looked to the ship's master, concerned. Preston waved him off, even as the familiar iron taste filled his mouth again. He placed his hands on his knees and waited for the moment to pass. Preston suddenly felt a sting to his lower leg. As he turned to larboard, he heard a muffled thud and saw several small splashes nearer the Lucy.

The ship's master called to the Captain, "Dorian, she's firin' grape."

At the same time Joseph Aretinson called from the waist, "McCormick's been hit!!"

"Marines, fall aft!!" came the call from the quarterdeck.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Blood had been drawn… The game was full on… Captain Lasseter stepped forward and grabbed the rail at the break of the deck.

“Gunners at th ready! Nigel, turn us full broadside to ‘em!”

A chorus of responses to the orders given were sung out and as the Lucy turned to give her full broadside to the snow, the order to fire came out of Dorian’s mouth as a cannon blast itself, with as much force and power.

“FIRE!!!”

In response the Guns of the Lucy erupted in flame and canister shot. The sea was lit with the flash for what seemed miles around. As the sounds began to fade the Master Gunner and his mate shouted for the guns to be fully drawn in and loaded with double roundshot. Dorian stood and watched the snow to see what she might do now. Activity on his own deck had him look away and he noted toe others taking McCormick below, to which he nodded.

“See the lad to Mister Marsh! Godspeed!”

Putting the glass to his eye he noted the snow swinging about and the gunports opening.

“She gonna fire on us again!”

As if prompted by the Captain’s report, Master Johnson sung out,

“Guns loaded n’ ready sah!”

Without hesitation, Dorian gave the order.

“Run ‘em out! On th up-roll now! FIRE!”

The timing was almost perfect. Both ships fired a broadside half a heartbeat apart. The snow fired a second one of grape which put several holes in the Lucy’s sails, while the double roundshot fired from the Lucy found bulwarks and possibly glanced off a mast on the snow.

The command was given again to reload and the men were as if possessed… Some of the grape had made its way lower and other men were injured and being taken below. Again Dorian sighted the deck of the snow with his glass. Yes, some damage had been inflicted to a degree as men were yelling and pointing to the rigging and elsewhere, others were scrambling up ratlines and Dorian didn’t waste the opening.

“Man th’ swivels and fire at will!”

Though they were only half pounders, they were enough to cause more chaos on the snow as now those who braved the rigging were ducking and dodging.

[William Brand]

Aboard the frigate Watch Dog

The Watch Dog had slowly gained speed by the ministrations of the Bosuns, and under the direction of these men, she flew before winds favorable and faltering both. She was continually corrected in her course, to bring her to a favorable destination along unseen lines drawn upon the sea. The snow was before them, but they had to pick their way so as to catch her least aware and as close as possible. Never had the 'Dog known so much activity in near silence. William had experienced the like only once before, when, deafened by a swivel fired too close, he had engaged in combat bereft of hearing.

Not that the night was quiet. The thud and crack of cannons carried well over the ocean and a hundred heads turned together to see the flashes exchanged between the snow and the Lucy each and every time the ships fired upon one another.

"A miss and a hit." Badger said in a tone more akin to accounting than warfare. He passed the glass to Mister Warren. "Lasseter's Irish is up."

"We're coming up fast now." Jim said, his tone even. As long as William had known him, Jim had ever been the calmest of men prior to bloodshed. Tudor was his twin in this as she came up alongside William and passed him his cutlass.

"Among my things you'll fi..." William began, but she was already tucking the Mahdi's knife into his belt. "Tudor." he said with an appreciative nod. It was not common for him to address her so personally, and perhaps it had something to do with the intimacy of an overshadowing death. Whatever the reasons, she dared it back.

"William."

No one else noticed this, for all eyes were trained on the ships before them, so well illuminated against a backdrop of black glass. The snow fired again.

"Cannister shot, sah." Petee called up quietly from the stairs at the quarterdeck. "Swivels and cannons both."

"Aye." William returned. "But too little to face us together. Her crews will be tiring..." He added, and whether he meant the gunners of the snow or the Lucy, he didn't say.

"Aye." Petee returned, greedily.

William smiled and looked down from the quarterdeck. "I like the color if your mood, Mister Youngblood."

"Thank you, sah. Instructions, sah?" Petee fired back in quick succession, his voice almost trembling to be about his business. The man was fidgeting. "Th' men are all powder an' ball sah."

"You have freedom to do with the enemy as you will." William replied almost removed, then added. "Let's have enough to lay claim after, Mister Youngblood."

"Aye, sah."

The snow was all but looming now. She was back lit by her own cannon blasts, and her sails lit up again and again as her gunnery crew fired at leisure upon their companion ship. The sound was filling their world now, no longer carrying at a distance, but crashing back over the water like closing thunder. There was something beautiful about the two engaged ships then. Something ethereal and otherworldly. The Lucy was all church bells as she fired. The snow was thundering. Both were alight with noise and hot flashes of amber and the snow was so engaged with her intended victim that she did not feel the frigate on approach.

The Watch Dog closed. A shadow in shadows bearing a shadow. William could just hear a few of the Spaniards in rote prayer.

[Pew]

Even in the dark night, the crew of the Lucy were aiming, loading and firing as one.

A sudden round shot found it's mark and tore away a section of rail just between the great gunns Leucetios and Diecolus. Splinters and shards were sent flying and tore away two of the main deadeyes holding the mast aloft. The gunn crew manning Diecolus was sent flying into the hatch cover. Preston and Dorian both saw the explosion on deck. William DeWitt and Valentine Duvale had both been running shot and powder to the gunns on the larboard side. William grabbed for one of the gunn crew to help him to his feet and removed the mans arm quite accidentally. Liam Rowan had just brought another pail of sand on deck when he saw this exchange and promptly vomited. A second shot went screaming across the deck and found it's mark solidly upon the capstan. Luckily, those men manning Diecolus were still prostrate across the deck avoiding any more serious injury.

Another shot of grape glanced off the bower and ripped though the bobstays just below the bowsprit. Preston could not make out those manning the gunn Fionn, but finally did so as they retreated aft. He leveled his pistol at the first man. "Well Stephen Hudless, I thought we'd seen th' last o' you." He felt a musket raise just over his right shoulder.

"Sah....," the sailor stammered, " we needed . . .ahh . . more shot . . "

Preston did not believe the man, nor did the marine holding the musket close.

"Get your arse t' your gunn 'r I'll kill y' meself, aye?"

His eyes darted back and forth as if to make an escape from the increasingly dangerous deck. Several large splashes landed just to larboard again and Hudless ducked as did the man behind him. Stephen found his options limited. "Aye sah," was all he replied.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The captain was gritting his teeth, unable to make out all who had suffered injury on the Lucy.

“Dammit! Th’ close range has us in greater harm’s way.”

He took a moment to think, even though a moment was something they really did not have to waste. A decision made, he voiced it calmly.

“Preston, if William doesn’t show himself soon, You’ll be leadin’ th’ boarders on that ship. Ya go in wi’ th’ marines here an’ I’ll be behind ye wi’ every man I can spare …”

Before Master Whittingford could answer, Dorian gave more orders.

“Nigel, Put th’ Lucy into th’ side o’ that bastard right after our next volley, Mister Flint, into the waist and to th’ bow ta cross over wi’ yer men. Tucker! Pass out arms ta these rabble so they can show their worth!”

He drew his sword and looked at the blade as if admiring it for the first time.

“Godspeed and luck with you, Preston… I’ll be coming across, hot on yer heals now… make a good show…”

Master Johnson gave the command and the Lucy’s guns fired into the side of the snow. Nigel shoved the tiller and they were headed at an angle, right into the enemy. The Lucy’s deck swarmed with much activity, mixed with anger, fear, courage, defiance, and any other emotion known to man. Hands were embraced between friends, good-luck charms kissed, and more prayers sent heavenward.

[Pew]

"Aye sah!" Preston exclaimed, "Marines, prepare th' grapples!"

Several marines appeared in the waist. Those powder monkeys not immediately involved in the great gunns brought forth the giant hooks and reels. Preston reflected for a moment and thought of trying to snare a giant fish with the same hooks. The ropes were coiled in great heaps next to each hook alongside the larboard rail. 'A giant fish eh?' he said to himself, 'tasty'. Preston removed the small cutlass from his side and began to slowly drum it upon the rail. Those in the boarding party followed suit and continued the same. The din rose to near chant as the Lucy swam closer.

"ON ME," called Preston to those at the rail.

[William Brand]

The noise and preparation of close action could be heard by all then, but the crew of the frigate were quiet still as they bridged the last of the diminishing gap.

"Campion. Marchande. Bring us across her stern." William said with no more feeling than if he had called for a glass. It was a simple order by itself. Just the smallest alteration of course in fact, but this tack might carry the frigate out of the wind entirely, and she would most certainly stall upon her course if that happened, but this time it wouldn't matter. William was confident that the Master Gunner would make any need to come about or check their progress completely unnecessary.

Jim looked at William then and the Captain gave him the merest of nods. The Ship's Master went down from the holy ground to lead the throng if leading were required.

Then the Watch Dog was turning. She did this casually, carefree and effortless and everyone aboard the frigate could hear the warning cry that carried from the snow's maintop. It was a lonely, desperate sound drowned out by the snow's own guns as they illuminated the frigate's encroaching canvas.

"Too late..." William said softly to himself and he would have sent a cry or call down to his own then, but he could think of nothing to say in the moment. Blood was pounding in his ears and he was grateful of the Master Gunner, for Petee was running along the lines shouting.

"Rudder and Rigging! Rudder and Rigging! Rudder and Rigging!"

At first it was only him, yelling and then screaming the call. Then it was picked up by the gunnery crews and the marines aloft. It spread to all until it blurred out every sound aboard ship and beyond. Even Luigi and Ajayi, the one drunk and the other with little English to speak of, carried the call. William could just hear Argus barking, too excited by the din not too.

'Bark on' William thought, though he was shouting along with everyone else. "Rudder and Rigging! RUDDER AND RIGGING!"

Then the Watch Dog passed over the snow's wake. Just that. She bore across that upset line of sea in the dark like a portent over graves. and the world shattered as the gunnery crews fired in such close succession that the sound of each individual gun was all but lost as explosion carried over explosion. William could not remember the concussion of such noise ever coming so close together, but for the exchange of two ships firing upon one another at once. Ships were so seldom afforded such a narrow target, and the rudder was not so much struck, as it was altogether obliterated. With no presentable mast as a target, blocked as they were by the close stern, great cabin and rear decks, the gunery crews simply fired into the snow length ways.

The rudder was reduced to kindling almost at once. One shot splintered the planking just feet above the waterline from the stem forward almost to the waist. Another passed through the snow with enough force to find the mainmast even from that difficult presentment, though the Lucy's guns had already done more damage there. The ball from the 'Dog had simply lost too much momentum passing through that much timber. All other shot from the frigate could not be accounted for. There was simply too many hits through the stern. Debris clouded the air so quickly, that no gunner could name or claim a target or hit, though many would after.

[Black Syren]

Argus beyond excited continued to bark and Treasure sternly eyed him and debated a short sharp tap upon his muzzle but let him bark. As they passed the snows wake and the cannons barked she could see the british ensign of the enemy. She could see the debris as it flew through the air to land in the sea or on the decks of the now injured snow. Faces peered over the rail and the marines began firing upon the Dog and thrusting her own musket out the port window took careful aim and shot the nearest british marine between the eyes, his musket falling to the sea below. She quickly jerked her musket back in and loaded as Luigi managed to fire off another round taking another marine.

Time was of the essence and she was glad that they had been trained so vigourously that loading and firing was so much second nature they could do so in darkness, and so so quickly. Ready to fire again she rose up only to duck as a round passed into the wood near her head. Muttering an oath she rose again thrust out her musket, quickly sighted her target and brought him down and then began to load all over again as Luigi quickly took his shot. Wellings was trying to sit up and where he found the will Treasure had no clue but Wellings soon had joined them though he trembled like a leaf in a storm. She nodded at him then was suddenly glad of his aid as the cannons fired again and more debris rained down.

Argus continued to growl and bark and leapt upon the nearest bed biting at the wood as if to gnaw through and attack their enemies, Treasure managed to pull him down then raising to the window fired again.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Quarterdeck of the Lucy

The Lucy’s bow was half a pistol shot’s distance from the rail of the snow when Dorian’s attention was drawn aft.

“Ah, William, y-”

Was all he managed before the chant and then the barrage of shot drowned out any words that followed. The Captain spun about and used the back edge of his sword to direct Nigel to ease off a bit, lest they catch some of the shot from the Watch Dogs’ guns. He understood and remained clear of Dorian’s steel until he withdrew it as the broadside came to an end. Musket fire became the order for a time as they closed the gap. Some shots were fired across the quarterdeck and one unsettled the Captain’s hat. He also felt a mild sting on his right earlobe. Resetting his hat, Dorian touched his right ear as well and found an earring gone. His fingers also came back tinged with crimson.

“Why you bloody – Nigel! Put th’ Lucy into her! Now!

Second wave! To me!”

He nearly leapt down to the waist, sword held high as a rallying point. There they waited, pistols, cutlass and quarterpikes at the ready. The Captain glanced back up to the Holy Ground and saw his Steward there, looking at him. He touched his hat to here and calmly mouthed 'I'll be back.' and smiled before turning to the smoky deck of the snow.

[William Brand]

The ringing in everyone's ears was not dissipated with the silencing of guns, though the muffled pop of marine muskets could just be heard by most. Everyone's hearing recovered so slowly, that as the disorienting whine or muted silence gave over to the real sounds about them it took many of the frigate's crew members time to understand what had happened aboard the 'Dog.

On the quarterdeck, William was shouting orders, only to realize that he was not heard by any but those nearest to him, and also realizing too late himself that not one, but both coxswains were wounded. A marine aloft on the snow had shot Claude Marchande through the outer part of his right hip, bring the man off his feet at once. This had caused the wheel to spin back upon Mathew Campion with such force, that his right hand had slipped through the spokes of the wheel and turned his shoulder out of joint. The man had almost sacrificed his leg as well, by pinning it soundly against the wheel in an effort to keep the frigate from falling off the wind. William had only noticed this by turning to look, for his hearing had not yet translated the murmur of profanity and pain that spilled from both men.

William rushed over to take the wheel, even as Claude was using it to gain his feet. The Captain of the Watch Dog would have suffered a shot himself, but a ball aimed well at his head was sent wide of him owing to a well placed shot from one of his own marines. As it was, it rang across the top of the ship's bell aft and William had time to wonder if the sound complimented or distorted the ringing in his own head before a second shot passed him on the left nearly striking Claude a second time.

In the few moments that it took for this unpleasant scene to play out, it was clear to William that they had crossed too far and wide of their target to engage the snow a second time before Captain Lasseter could drive his men aboard her. William called out as loudly as he could muster for them to bring the frigate about as they may, hoping to gain the snow on that side not so engaged by the Lucy.

[Black Syren]

Even though the Dog was passing quickly she was in a prime location able to shot as they were coming up, and now passing. Loading as quickly as she could she continued the barrage of musketfire with Wellings and Luigi. A shot rang through the room lodging against the far wall, and she returned the volley. Reloading yet again she heard a whine and Wellings crying out before falling to his back upon the floor. Luigi in the process of firing quickly crawled to Wellings and finding the wound high in the right shoulder. It bled profusely and not being able to see in the dark ripped the tail of her shirt and folded it to make a bandage and half drug, half carried Welling’s back to his bed. The move had knocked him out. There was nothing further she could do at the point and she quickly crawled back to her musket. Luigi asked about Welling’s and she reported the ball was still lodged but it was not life threatening.

Then she rose up just as a ball buried itself in the frame of her window and splinters of wood shot off one scratching her cheek leaving a bloody trail. Cursing she quickly ducked and once the volley was quiet sighted once more and took out a lookout in the snow’s rigging. By now shots were going to be harder if at all possible….

[Red Cat Jenny]

Battle

The air was almost too thick to breathe, the taste of spent blackpowder left her tongue bitter and dry. Jenny coughed, shielding her mouth and nose with one sleeved arm and blinked back the stinging in her eyes. Every direction carried distruction as if a great storm of devastation had suddenly erupted between the ships from the depths only such a miasma could have been conjured in. The sound was deafening and adrenaline had taken over where fear would surely have paralyzed her, sealing her fate into an easy target. Jenny's whole body trembled and she was more terrified than she could have ever imagined. Moreso than being shot, her mind flung images at her of being tossed into the sea and smashed or drowned between the ships should the Lucy founder. Jenny ducked below the rail and as she did so was afforded a glance down the deck of the Lucy in time to see a man shot through. Flung off his feet by the force, followed by splinters from the portion of deck shattered along with him. Two others coming to his aid to scuttle him below. The deck was spilled with injuries both wooden and flesh and Jenny squoze her eyes shut. She turned again towards their attacker in time to see her own ship like a rabid dog draw even closer instead of running. The great guns tore into the side of the snow raining destruction and men into it's own deck and the sea below. She was transformed, the bravery around her, the fearless progression of the ship advancing to lay waste to it's asailant and the realiziation of her own mortality drove a singular realization. Martinique was no longer her home, not even France what she was defending. This ship, The Lucy would be her country and the crew her countrymen. She would fight to defend it. To near death if necessary but God willing she would survive. Anger and determination blended with the adrenaline and Jenny was tempted to rise above the rail and spend one of the pistols given her by Captain Lasseter. She reached back beneath the loaned wesket she now wore and felt firm steel of the dagger smuggled aboard. As she assured herself she would be able to draw and use it she wondered if the lad who loaned the wesket was among the living or the dead. A chill rushed through her and she shook it off. Determined to surive, she chided herself, knowing panic would mean sure death. Tucker's words came to her then and she answered him though he was nowhere nearby to hear her affirmation "Aye".

Inbetween the barrage of cannon fire would be seconds of near silence, which were realized to be her hearing returning slowly. The staccato pop of musket fire blended with groans and shouts of men both near and farther off on the snow would fill in the gap in an odd raising and lowering only to be drowned out once again by thunderous cannon fire.

After the Lucy's last volley shook the deck below her, Jenny glanced above the rail at the snow. Everything was lit as if daylight then plunged back into darkness intermittently. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the enemies guns flare and then die as the ship beneathe her was hit with the force of shot, the same sending plumes of water up alongside the hull. She held tightly to the wood and her stomach lurched but held fast not giving in to fear. She would face the enemy and see the damage wrought by her Captain's guns.

As the smoke cleared Jenny saw the third ship. Out of the chaos all about it loomed as if from no where, sailing across the stern of the snow. It's calm progression in odd juxtaposition to the scene around them. Undamaged and deliberate, the Watch Dog crossed the snow's wake like a specter. Sails full and ghostly, illuminated by the flashes all around. In the space of a breath all seemed to pause as the Lucy and her enemy became aware. Taking this moment like a curtain call without the polite pause for invitation, the 'Dog unleashed destruction in the form of a single barrage. Flash and smoke erupting from it's gunports. The scene was oddly majestic as time seemed to slow just then. Against the backdrop of the broken British ship, the Watch Dog full as if indestructible, rained destruction upon those who would persue her sister.. her guns thundered deafeningly and the Snow exploded anew in men and debris. Jenny caught sight only for a moment, of Captain Brand standing like a specter himself on the 'Dog's holy ground, shrouded in the dissipating smoke and flashes of musket fire.

Transfixed at the scene, her heart lept at the sight. At the same time she jumped from the nearby shout of Captain Lasseter "Nigel! Put th' Lucy into her! Now! " She turned to the tiller in disbelief and then towards the Captain only to see him rush the deck followed without hesitation by his men. Jenny breathed in a ragged breath at the shock of the Lucy making contact with the snow at that moment and the realization that there was no more distance safe or otherwise between them. Captain Lasseter was at once a man possesed of his command driving the men forward with his own actions brandishing cutlass and shouting. Then as before, calmly assured her even as he headed into the breach. As he did so he smiled..which turned genuinely feral as Dorian turned to faced his men and the snow once again. In her minds eye Jenny imagined Captain Brand with the same expression as the two ships closed irretrievably on their prey.

[Pew]

Grapples were propelled across the dark finding their mark on the snow. With a tremendous explosion of wood, metal and men, the Lucy and the snow were suddenly attached. Preston was further towards the bow and Dorian aft near the quarterdeck, but their was no mistaking the cries erupting from the ships officers, and like that, they were gone. Across the dark, reaching for halyards and stays came a tide of men; pistols erupting, muskets barking, cold steel flashing in what light was on deck. Preston held two pistols in front. His laning on deck caught one of the gunn crews in surprise as he levelled the weapon and discharged it in the man's chest. The second man at that station drew a dagger and thrust it towards the ship's master. A simple flush of light sparked, but no pistol shot came from his hand. The man grinned. Preston spun the weapon around and caught the man in the side of the head with the pistol butt and hammered twice, thrice against the man's skull. Blood spewed from the open wound covering Master Whitingford's face. He could taste the familiar iron on his lips, but this moment, he knew it was not his.

[William Brand]

The Lucy and the Snow were gammed so tightly upon one another that one could just hear the grinding of planking and timbers as they rolled against one another in the dark. The cacophony of noise which carried off of the close clapped ships was intoxicating. William found that he was repeating his orders over and over, anxious to be in the fray. "Move your carcasses!" he shouted, not angry, but ever so determined to join the fight before it was over. The 'Dog was recovering herself too slowly, turning about into the wind like a waking, drunken thing and still, William shouted. The only one louder than him was the Master Gunner.

"Ladle an' Spunge, ya fool from a bastard!" Petee cried, grabbing up the tools and doing the job himself when the man appeared too slow for his liking. "I'll see th' man swimmin' tha' hurts my guns! Mind that ball!"

Badger was also in rare form, mixing every order in equal portions with some of the finest crafted profanity anyone had ever heard strung together. It proved a kind of foul poetry that shocked the most ardent user of the art to shame, for the Bosun all but ladled it into their ears. Any man that dared to pause amidst his shouting was cuffed soundly in his dignity by orders and accusations both. Again and again he berated, corrected and propelled each and every sailor to their duties.

As for Jack, so long in prison, he was slower in the use of words but no less effective, preferring instead to jump at every opportunity to see tasks done himself. He sometimes forgot his risen place on the frigate, and followed orders more often than he gave them.

Below the quarterdeck, but no less chaotic in order, the surgery was rife with noise and activity as Luigi and Syren continued to load muskets for the next round of battle. Claude was already strewn upon the table face down, stripped naked to the knees. The two ladies proprietors of the place were engaged in mopping and stopping the blood from his wounded hip and buttock, exposing them to the violence and impropriety of the life at the same time.

To say that Argus was excited would have understated his feverish temperament, for he was everywhere at once like child underfoot; his injuries of the day before forgotten.

Then the frigate was turning. Truly turning. She began to spin about like an overbalanced dancer on one heel. It was just enough that everyone smiled upward to hear the canvas filling.

[Pew]

Grunts, groans and screams pierced the night air. They were accompanied by the sound of steel clashing and pistol reports. It was dark and difficult to see, but Preston knew to lead his men of the Lucy aft from the bow. He watched the mayhem and bloodletting upon deck. The ship's master could only assume that Captain Brand used the Watch Dog and its verocity to take out the rudder. Dorian was working his way aft to the quarterdeck and Preston would clear the bow and met him thus. He glanced about and saw more of the Lucy's men spilling over into the waist of the snow.

The ship's master felt an immediate pressure and then a burn to his forearm. A sailor from the snow had come across Preston's arm with his cutlass but had stopped short of removing the appendage. Whitingford was surprised at the man's sudden lack of interest to continue hacking through bone, but saw a short sword run the man through. Charlie Goddon appeared in Preston's face, smiling.

"Sah," was simply all the Bo'sun's mate said.

He saw Nathaniel Brocke kneeling near the bow just out of attack of the cold steel and firing, loading, and reloading as fast as his seventeen years would allow him. Many rounds found their mark in torsos, heads, and limbs. John Kingsman stood by his side fending off blows by those on deck so that the lad could take his best shots against what men still were atop in the rigging.

Peter Norman had followed Charlie over the rail and fought shoulder to shoulder with him until Mister Goddon had removed a lout from Preston's leeward side. Peter was fighting off two men at once when a pistol shot dropped the one to his larboard and he was able to slash the man just to his right. Peter wiped his nose with the back of his hand and joined Preston and Charlie. The three men regained their footing and continued the march aft through the blood soaked scuppers.

[Dorian Lasseter]

On the deck of the enemy ship, chaos reigned. Damage done by the guns of the Watch Dog had far outdone what the Lucy had wrought. And now the Lucys marines and sailors alike were continuing to damage those who would come against them. Captain Lasseter had bolted onto the deck and his men followed him, not in his wake, but at his shoulders. For every man they had encountered, Dorian fended off the attack and only returned blows a fourth of the time, so bloodthirsty were his men. Muskets and pistols were discharged time and again, both at the enemy and from them. One found its mark across The Captains back as he was striking at a man with his cutlass. The sting caused him to arch his back and grit his teeth. Instead of slowing him down, it propelled him deeper into the fray, now curses in gaelic flowed through gritted teeth as he hacked and slashed at men around him, searching the chaos for the mark of an officer. At one point he used a great gun that had been dismounted to see across the deck. Climbing atop it he searched the deck and finally spotted a man yelling and pointing at men, sending them forth to do battle with his.

Jumping off his vantage point, just as a musket shot meant for him was fired, he gained the deck and gave a final order.

Lucifer! To Me!!!

With this given he thrust his bloodied cutlass into the air and slashed it forward in the direction of that officer about to meet Captain Lasseter, and find him in a most foul mood.

Edited August 23, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[William Brand]

The Watch Dog

Mere minutes had rolled by in the time it had taken the frigate to close the distance to their target. These minutes had been the worst of all, coming as they did with a pace so slow as to torture those who pressed the rail. Every man there was a man possessed, ready to be about a business born of greed and madness both.

The Lucy loomed as did the shattered snow, and so loud was the engagement that William could not rightly discern which crew it was that held the other by the throat. Part of the battle was obscured by a tangle of canvas and line forward and a pallor of smoke hung in the air, mixing light and dark together.

The distinct pop and whine of musket balls could be heard everywhere, and while the 'Dog was not heavily engaged, an occasional misspent shot from the fray carried to her. Eric Franklin was missed just under his right arm as a shot passed cleanly through his shirt and cut down John Clovely. Another mislaid ball deflected off the flagstaff with a dull 'chock' and only just upset a hat worn by Martin Gadd amidships. Paul Mooney was wounded not once, but twice, and luckily so, for neither shot had struck the man fatally. David Henry was grazed across his left temple, having turned just out of the way of a shot leveled soundly at his forehead. The hit caused the man to cry out, though he recovered himself.

The worst of all came from a swivel fired aboard the snow. A sailor there had intended to strike one of Lasseter's rearguards aboard the snow itself, but William Flint had struck the man with such force from a belaying pin, that the swivel swung wide as it discharged. Shot was carried safely over the heads of the fighting men there to the crew and frigate beyond. Balls from this swivel struck the Main chainwale, bulwark rails and as many as four men aboard the frigate. Maxamillain DeRuyter lost two fingers of his left hand. One ball exacted the upper half of Simon Larke's right ear. Richard Legatt was hit in the shoulder by a shot that glanced off a block at the Main shrouds. Christopher Newstubb was hit soundly across the top of his skull, the force of which scalped him and kicked his head back so hard that his spine was heard to pop in several places as he crumpled to the deck, leaving an astonished Alain Roux to blink the man's blood from his eyes.

For himself, William was injured in a way almost too embarrassing to recount, for a ball had struck the Main mast and bounced across the quarterdeck where it came to rest under his right heel. The ball had settled neatly under his shoe upsetting William's balance as he stepped backwards. William turned his ankle and went down in an unceremonious heap, striking Robert Hollis with the flat of his cutlass as he fell. Hollis, employed at the wheel of the frigate, could offer no aid to William, though he catalogued the event for some future retelling. William was left to raise himself alone in a stagger of limbs and profanity.

Then they were there. The Watch Dog had come about almost to the very bow of the snow and grapples and men went over together.

[Black Syren]

As they began to turn she cursed not being in upon the action for the fever of the fight made her blood run hot and bold. Her eyes were bright with it and she looked once towards the door and yet focused ehr attention upon Welling's who had yet to stir. Catching sight of the twin surgeons now covered in Claude's blood she knew they would be busy for a while yet so it was a blessing that Welling's stayed asleep. Still she found herself venturing closer to make sure that his blood loss was not significant and it did not appear to be so once the makeshift bandage had been removed. Still she pressed it back and tore another strip from her shirt and folded it and quickly replaced the other pad. By then the sound of gunfire and cannon resounded and The Dog was once more savagely nipping and tearing into the heels of the enemy. She turned away wanting to continue the fight as did Argus if his frenzied actions were anything to go by. Hefting her musket higher upon her shoulder she moved with purpose to the door, her duty to see to it that if they were boarded none not of The Dog would enter. She watched as Argus sniffed the floor before moving to her side and whining, his ears pricked as much as his breed allowed, hackles raised, tail low between his rear legs. Signs of fear and aggression, signaling him he sat but kept a wary eye upon the door and his tail thumped once then was still as the fight raged on.

Ajayi was struggling to sit up, Luigi speaking firmly and puching the bigger man back into a supine position and weakly Ajayi had no choice but to give ground in that moment.

[Pew]

By the time the Watch Dog had latched onto the snow so much blood had been let that the new onslaught of Brand's crew had brought the snow to bear quarter.

Standing on the quarterdeck of the snow, clutching a dripping cutlass, stood a mate of the snow. Clearly backed into a corner, he had no choice but to recognize defeat, especially with the men of the Watch Dog still spilling over into the bow. Dorian stepped to the man and drew his pistol, "Wot say ye?"

The man, clearly aware of his Captain's gross error in judgement, threw the sword down in defeat. With a cold ringing, the cutlass rolled until it stopped against the binnacle.

Dorian Lasseter turned to those in the waist, "The snow is ours!!"

[Bloody Bill Flint]

A shout of triumph when up from the men and women of the fleet. Amidst the revelry Nathaniel Brocke appeared at Preston's elbow close to tears. "Sah" was all the lad managed before his resolve broke and the tears flowed freely. The Quartermaster's gaze followed the point of the lads arm to a sight that stole his very breath. Bill Flint lay prostrate upon the snow's deck, her colors clutched in his fist and his body riddled with shot.

[William Brand]

Aboard the snow.

William Brand came aboard with his cutlass still firmly held in his hand. He moved deliberately slow, to hide his temporary limp. His ankle was still burning from his unceremonious fall on the quarterdeck, which thankfully few had witnessed. Still, he went with a practiced dignity aboard the snow. The decks of the ship were riddled with the wounded and the dismembered. William tried not to take in his losses, choosing to view the field with a more auspicious eye. It wasn't a callous effort on his part, but he wanted to present the air of strength in victory, indifferent to the cost. There would be time enough for reflection in grief later.

"Captain." Dorian said from his place across the crowded deck. His voice carried well enough, despite those who still pressed the snow's crew with threats to keep them in their place, not to mention the many muted cries or unbridled calls of pain which came from everywhere.

"Captain." William returned, grateful that Dorian had not chosen to call him Admiral, as he had sometimes done with mixed humor and respect in private. "How is it with you?" William asked, almost conversationally, but still removed. The man above the moment.

"Well." was all that Dorian said in return, his cutlass still threatening an officer of their captured prize.

This was the way of things with war. Captains were required to be many things. The bloodthirsty madness of before had been a necessary thing to engage the crew, filling them with purpose to overshadow doubts and misgivings. Now that this was accomplished and the deed was done, Dorian and William were the quiet opposites of their former selves, lending a calm to an aftermath that demanded order. Power in silence. Were they to act any other way, unnecessary blood could be shed and the fragile moment might dissolve into fighting again.

William nodded at Dorian. Just that, but it was permission to do almost anything in the moment. An 'as you will' gesture that they understood as captains. Then Dorian was shouting orders, returning his bloodletting boarders to working men.

[Black Syren]

Word was called that the Snow had surrendered and she barely had time to move back before the door slammed open and the injured began to trickle in. The surgery would soon become crammed and she slipped out to make room but kept her weapon ready. Adrenaline still ran high on the Dog and making the weather deck she looked up to see Ciaran still aloft and keeping his eye on the activity below. Argus bumped against her thigh with a whine though his hackles remained raised, his body suggesting aggression. They wended through those less injured, and those taking inventory of the damage to the Dog.

Reaching the rail which was a riot of confusion she settled with Argus amidst her fellow marines and kept her gaze on what she could make out in the dim light and smoke. About her the Dog’s lanterns were being re-lit though it seemed to be a slow process. Argus whined once and shifted and she signaled him to sit and wait. It was clear to her he had no liking for the thunderous cannon fire but now he was clearly eager to partake in the aftermath. At this point it was best to keep him quiet for he would be quite the surprise if any tried to board, yet the way things looked now it was unlikely that would be tried. Poor Argus would have to wait to test his cunning in battle though she figured this was a good test to see if he would do as commanded.

She could only imagine what they must look like..three ships locked together in an intimate embrace. Quickly she raised her gaze to the sea to make sure there was nothing further hidden.

[William Brand]

William scanned the sea around them, finding it impossible to see beyond the deck of the snow and the crowding bulk of the Watch Dog. He grabbed up James Standiford as he rushed by cradling several spent pistols that had been discarded in the fray. "Fetch word to the lookouts. I want the Navarra's position immediately."

"Aye, sah."

The lad jumped nimbly across the grinding gap between the frigate and snow, careful not to lose his cargo in the effort. William watched him as he went and his eyes fells upon a crumpled John Clovely. "See t' that man there, you braggart."

"Aye, Sah!" Maxamillain DeRuyter returned and tipped his hat smartly, presenting the bloodied remainder of his diminished hand. William was soundly reminded of his quick impatience.

"Good lad."

"P'mission t' retire, sah." Paul Mooney said at his elbow. William looked the man up and down, surprised to find him covered as much in his own blood as others.

"How is it with you, sah?" William asked of him, surprised that the man had his feet.

"Spilled my blood, sah. I spilled theirs." Paul had only just engaged the enemy before the surrender and he looked no better for it. He wavered a little and William took him at the elbow and propelled him over the gap into those waiting hands that bore him to the surgery.

"Navarra North, Northwest a point...!" Ciaran called, but the last was lost as a shot discharged somewhere below.

"Not so surrendered." William said to himself, not surprised.

[Black Syren]

The shot caused a frenzied excitement and there was much shoving and pushing as Marines sought the cause. With the lanterns lit and the smoke dissipating she could make out the snows decks and the peaceful or seemingly peaceful surrender taking place. She could make out harried sailors, those of the Dog mixing with the Lucy and the snow. But who had made the shot and why? Raising the musket to her shoulder as Argus tensed up she could see Captain William and Dorian both seeking the cause, the man before Dorian held in place with that good Captains own cutlass had her looking quickly elsewhere.

But where and to whom had the first shot been meant? She sighted along the barrel as excitement began to turn to alarm that the shooter had yet to be found. Her finger itched on the trigger and she could feel a cold sweat break upon her, Arguss big body both comforting and a signal for trouble for his body remained tense and he growled low in his throat.