|
|
Post by Jack Sparrow on Jun 16, 2004 15:03:33 GMT -5
:Jack had stared at the pistol long and with great surprise, then took it, and tucked it away safely in his belt.:
"aye, Captain thank you. I won't loose it. I promise....."
The "little energetic squirt", hurried away, as if fearful he might cause more trouble by simply being near the captain. He didn't want to cause trouble. That was the very last thing he wanted. He loved this ship, and the sea to much to get marooned someplace:
:Jack slouched as he hurried away....determined to not stand out if he could help it. : "Someday, I'll be a captain...." he muttered to himself and was promptly hit squarly in the face by a blast of sea spray. Jack sputtered and wiped his face. Then continued to stare, in what he thoughto be, a couragously careless manner on the stern of the ship:
:He'd developed a odd habit of striking poses he thought to be "indimitating" or "glorious".....in his adolescent head.....another blast os spray came.....Jack wiped it away......then another. Jack grumbled and wiped his face again. Ob the third, Jack gave up, mumbled and went to find a more suitable place to be alone.:
:he liked to hear the rambling of his own thoughts in his own dark head, as most people do, when they're young and determined to "stand out" simply by doing what everyone else around them is doing. and on a pirate ship this consisted of doing what you were told, and kill who you were told to kill......:
:Jack touched the gold inlay of the pistol again then looked back at his captain.:
|
|
|
|
Post by Rose Glassman/Hawk Aureye on Jun 17, 2004 2:12:28 GMT -5
Kestrel had been curled precariously around the mast right below the crow's-nest, with both legs and one arm holding it, and dangling loose otherwise. It was quite a dangerous spot, especially during a storm. She was probably fit enough to stay there without any real danger, and it was a good spot to watch the crew from, but Kestrel wasn't stupid. Impulsive and quick-tempered perhaps, but few people dared to call Kestrel Blake stupid. Most who did, only did so once.
She climbed into the crow's-nest to weather the storm from there. She noted Jack's antics and chuckled, shaking her head; he was her age, she realized, but sometimes he seemed so much younger. Kestrel shook her head again as she listened to the captain joking about getting their beautiful and elegant lady folk below deck. She was no lady, so there was no danger in her being up here...it was purely exhilerating for her, being so close to the storm...
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 17, 2004 8:35:19 GMT -5
"No..." called the captian after Jack as the lad went farther away. "No you wont." He turned back to Ben and gave him that same, animalistic grin. He sailed steadily for a few minutes more, then called up to Krestel in the Nest. "Oh you beautiful women folk, you!;" he called up to her. "What do those eyes of yours see?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Rose Glassman/Hawk Aureye on Jun 17, 2004 11:10:44 GMT -5
Kestrel looked down, giving the captain a mock glare. "I see no beautiful womenfolk up 'ere, Cap'n," she called back down; she had less of an accent than most pirates, having been brought up as a lady. "An' I see a flattering cap'n, an' a ship with a crew fit to take on a drizzle like this'n." She's unable to keep the pride from her voice; Kestrel's devoted to the ship, and proud of the crew's exploits.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 17, 2004 11:23:54 GMT -5
Farron grinned back up, but then nodded and in a more serious tone, motioned with his head towards Caratana. "An' o'er there, lass?"
While waiting for her response, he surveyed the rest of the ship, barking a few orders, then turning to Ben. "'Ere mate, take the 'elm." And he strode to the front end of the ship, gazing ahead.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jessi Ferris/Ben Davidson on Jun 17, 2004 11:50:25 GMT -5
Ben took the helm from his captain with a slight nod and looked up at Kestrel. "Oy, woman, what say you to a warm bed and a hardened, grizzly man tonight after we've done our pillaging?" He grinned as she stuck her tongue down at him, knowing that he meant no harm and was completely joking. Everybody on the crew knew of his almost celibacy, and the thought of him coming onto a crew member was laughable.
Ben cursed as he lost control of the helm for a moment "This storm is beginning to go wild, Captain! We need to reach shore!"
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 17, 2004 11:55:44 GMT -5
Farron whirled around, with an offended, angry look in his eyes. The rain fell in sheets, the wind howled and sang of demons.
"HOLD FAST!" he bellowed. "HOLD THE WHEEL STEADY. WE'LL BE THERE SOON."
It was required to shout to be heard over the storm. he turned back to the sea. "Almost there..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 17, 2004 12:02:41 GMT -5
Caratana. Spanish isle, port, and fortress. In the calm bay, the three spanish ships lay at anchor, peacefully. In the distance a terrible storm was growing ever closer, the men were uneasy. Jutting out from the island clifface is the fortress of Caratana, cannons arrayed in every direction, looking down upon the bay.
Inside those brick walls was a candlewashed room, with a table cluttered with half eaten food and three chairs about it. It was mid afternoon now, but dusk was hurring on.
Admiral Adrea Orlandez sat at the head of the table, just finishing his supper, with his fellow captians around him. He drew a sealed envelope from his waistcoat pocked, and left it out on the table.
"These, gentle-captians, are our long awaited orders."
|
|
|
|
Post by Evelyn on Jun 17, 2004 12:15:31 GMT -5
Capt. Cuaron sat at the table with a gleam in his right eye, the one that worked anyway. His brown eye searched the envelope carefully and he set down his goblet of wine delicately. "Orders? Already? I just finished cleaning up some pirate filth the other day." Cuaron said gruffly. He glanced at the other officers and rubbed his clean shaven face. This Captain was a rough man, no doubt about this, but he held a sort of pride for himself.
"But, I wouldn't mind taking orders to take out another barbaric ship of that nature. Those pesky pirates have been looting our Spanish cargo ships for too long and I cannot stand it." He said with a soft growl as he pounded his fist upon the table strongly. He glared at the other captains around him. His blue glass eye never twitching while the other swerved to look upon his fellow comrades.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 17, 2004 12:21:12 GMT -5
Orlandez laughed and patted the man's arm. "Peace, Cuaron, peace. There shall be scum-cleaning soon enough. Let us see what king and country ask of us this evening..." he said, sliding the envelope back into his hands. With the dinner knife, he opened the yellow tinged envelope and unfolded a wrinkled piece of equally tainted paper. He read it aloud.
"Orders, To Admiral Adreas Orlandez and the Royal Focres stationed at ecetera ecetera ecetera...
...Captian Farron Grave of the pirate vessel The Sea Dancer; sink, burn, or take her aprize....
admirallty orders, ecetera ecetera ecetera..."
he folded the paper and looked up at the others. "Well then, gentle-captians, we've got our work set out for us, don't we. We make sail in the morning."
|
|
|
|
Post by Rose Glassman/Hawk Aureye on Jun 17, 2004 13:46:45 GMT -5
Kestrel turned her mock-glare onto Ben, and stuck her tongue out at him in a somewhat childish way. She was the youngest girl on the ship, which had led to a few...encounters when she first came aboard. However, Kestrel and her sword had quickly taught the men better, and from then on she'd earned their respect. She liked most of them, and Ben was a good fellow - more than ten years older than her, like most of the men on board.
She heard the captain's inquiry and turned to check. The storm clouds were gathering; the rain was pouring, soaking Kestrel to the bone. She didn't care; the storm was absolutely exhilerating. "It's close!" she bellowed, her eyes sharp as the raptor she had taken her name from. "There's some ships up front, methinks...anywhere b'tween two an' five, I can' tell!..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 17, 2004 16:21:34 GMT -5
Farron grinned, broadly. "Good lass!" he bellowed, and meant it. Aye, there were ships there, ships and spaniards, and by the end of this, both would be at the bottom. He turned, and lowered his glass ,which he'd been gazing through.
"Ben!" he hollared. "Keep 'er steady! Just a lil' bit more!"
|
|
|
|
Post by Jessi Ferris/Ben Davidson on Jun 18, 2004 8:18:37 GMT -5
After the helm had slipped the first time, Ben adjusted his position, and held steady. "I've got it, Captain! That last one just surprise me a bit." He looked out over the water for the ships that Kestrel had seen, but the rain was even harder now, and he couldn't see more than 50 yards in front of him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Emma Hawkins/Rick MacKinnon on Jun 19, 2004 11:09:10 GMT -5
<ooc-Sorry I'm late,all!:thwacks her computer with a rolled-up newspaper:>
Red MacKinnon knew exactly where his weapons were,but checked anyway when the Captain called for the crew to arm themselves.His hands barely paused in their duties,just long enough to confirm that the tarnished silver pistol was still in place,stuck in his belt beside the long,curved blade in its leather sheath.The young man had been with the Dancer for a year and a half now,and had always proved to be a hard worker if nothing else.His tongue was quick,and he had the tendancy to look for fights that one often finds in impulsive young men who have yet to suffer any real losses.Perhaps this was because he kept himself too aloof for anything to harm him-the only thing he held dear,it seemed to some,was his own life,and even then only when he was sober.
The heels of his worn black boots dug into the deck slightly as he pulled the line in his hands tight,keeping a careful eye on the sails,already under strain from the approaching storm.When he reached the mast,he quickly secured the line and rushed to the side of the ship to help prepare the cannons.He ran a hand through his messy,shoulder length,dark red hair,the feature which had earned him his nickname,and peered out over the ocean as his hands did their work automatically.
His eyes,usually a light grey,were bright blue,shimmering with the electric feeling of a fight brewing.How many ships were there?At least two... no more than four or five,he'd guess.A devilish grin crossed his face,and he laughed anticipatively.
"'F they're look'n f'r a fight,they'll bloody well get one,eh?"he asked a crewmate,Jack,still grinning wickedly.In his eyes,there was nothing better than a good fight,provided one came out alive and mostly undamaged.He was soaked to the bone;his hair was so wet it looked black,his boots slid on the deck,and he could barely see though the rain.
This was going to be fun.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fish-legs Bob on Jun 19, 2004 17:12:44 GMT -5
Farron turned back to the island again. They were closer. he could feel the storm in his bones, knew the time was right. He flew back to the helm, and with a nod to Ben, took it again himself. "GUN CREWS TO YOUR GUNS!" he hollared above the storm, which was now at its peak. The Dancer skimmed across the waves, full sail. He'd never seen the ship going so fast, it would be hard to break her away before she hit the rocks. The storm broke, the rain clouds, fog, and winds dying in a single instand, as the storm veered the other direction. And left the Dancer flying towards Caratana with inhuman speed.
"BRACE YOURSELF, LADS!!" he yelled, the din now behind them. "FULL SAIL FORWARD, LADS! WE'RE NEARLY THERE!"
The sky echoed with the first cannon 'boom', from the fortress of Caratana, as the Dancer hit the enterance to the bay.
|
|
