Of Pirates and Privateering [RP Thread]
((Since there's so many locales to pick from, and I'll be inexcusably late for work if I stick around to turn this into an IC post with my charry, just put your character's location in brackets at the top of the post. Not the Subject line mind you, just at the top of the message. For exampe, "[Port Royal, tavern]," "[At Sea]," "[Port Royal, Docks]," etc. Oh yes, and remember; anyone interested is to sign up in the OOC / Rules & Sign Up thread))
[Sea: 120 Nautical Miles Sou-Sou-West of Ila de Tortue (Tortuga)...]
The sun's first light breached the sanctity of night and cast blinding silhouettes of the English ships. They numbered seven in all, five sloops, a fifth-class Frigate and a light-Galleon, all bearing the markings and cloth of the English Royal Navy.
Against the glare of the sun on the water, the French Privateer's vessel was completely invisible to the English's eyes while the dark outline of the Navy transport fleet gave them the stealth-like abilities of a crow against a white background...
A dark-clad figure eyed the black shapes in the sun, licking the salt off his lips and at the prospect of the sheer profit such a fleet would offer.
Captain Luc-Tibou Livi'Nion was a man who had become a legal pirate in the French Navy's eyes, these lower-classed English ships were rightfully his and everything and everyone aboard belonged to him so long as he could take it.
The Recent modifications to his ship further enticed him; his prey were armed with nothing over twenty-pound guns, the structure of Captain Luc's ship could withstand the majority of the punishment that a twenty-pound bombardment offered.
"Capitaine?" His First officer stepped up proudly, ready to heed his command.
"Dur environ, apportez-moi à leurs nez... Je veux voir les blancs de leurs yeux comme je les envoie aux profondeurs!" Luc growled, keeping his eye on the prize.
((I'll keep him speaking French, I'm using a good translator to do so, so I'll also post the translation...)) [["Hard about, bring me to their noses... I want to see the whites of their eyes as I send them to the depths!"]]
"Immédiatement!" the eager young officer snapped his response curtly. [["At Once!"]]
"Dur-Au sujet de! Faites prêt les canons sur tous les quarts! Chaque dernier homme à son poteau!" his words got the men stirring as he broke the silence, they all knew what to do even without orders, such was a long-rehearsed plan of attack. [[Hard-about! Make ready the cannons on all quarters! Every last man at his post!]]
The 38-gunned Corvette veered away and immediately swung around at break-neck speed for a vessel of her class, the French colors were hoisted high in the new wind as the looming vessel, The 'Lady Orleans' moved in to pounce upon her prey.
With the full weight of the wind behind her, the graceful shape began to lift partially up out of the near-calm ocean as she picked up speed, cruising to an impressive ten-knots, full-forward into the face of the enemy. The plan worked perfectly, the blinding sun behind the English rendered the Lady Orleans invisible until they were within half a mile, the startled crews racing just ants in the distance as they tried to make ready their ship for combat, the Transport sloops veered away, each only with a light armament, they would be sheer cannon fodder against the might of the third-class Privateer ship.
Luc's plan was to sweep straight through, broadside the Galleon and the frigate by passing between them then charge on the sloops and scuttle them first.
Unfortunately, the two Navy vessels did not give that quarter, they too swung hard to port, bringing to bear their aray of 20-pound guns. Gun-smoke and lead filled the morning calm, the light shots merely wounding the great beast, the Lady Orlean swept to port and let fly their response, though many of Luc's men were keeling, the blasted English were using grape-shot.
The full-might of the sixteen Demi-Cannons thundered their approval of the conflict, the frigate took the large-portion of it, cutting a mast and knocking out a fair few of her guns. The brief moment were all three ships fell silent was almost unbearable, they were all trying to be the first to reload and fire in the hopes to make pause to their opponent reloading. Luc's men were in the main part twenty-year veterans, even though they fired after, they were ready to launch again in just seventeen seconds.
The Lady Orleans' second barrage was not so lenient, the 36-pound ammunition decimated the frigate, setting her flooding like a block of swiss cheese. The Galleon still raged, it's grape-shot cutting through Luc's men with ease and in a single barrage, he lost count of how many went down... This battle was more costly than he had anticipated, but a battle begun must be finished to the death!
"Chargez les grenades!" Luc howled over the brief calm as the retched English struggled to reload after the damage caused by the French vessel. [["Load the Grenades!"]] His men had begun to wizen up to the Grape-shot, they hit the deck as soon as the English opened up, actually knocking out a few cannons in the process...
A broad grin spread across the wizened face of the French Former-Admiral, he was ready to fire again, this time with incendiary ammunition!
In a single moment, the Lady Orleans Fired, a common sight for such a vessel but when the shots struck home, they hit with the force of lightning bolts, almost literally ripping the pitiful English Galleon in two, it was already over by that time... The Sloops were a fair distance away, but they were not built for speed like the Yankee-built Corvette, the resulting battle was more of a massacre, leaving the Privateer to sift through the wrecks for a worthy prize, the catch was that is had cost him nearly seventy men due to the grape-shot.
[Port Royal: Governor's Mansion]
Captain John Owen strode into the Royal Governor of Jamaica's office on orders of the Admiral, who had said that the Governor needed to speak with him. "Have a seat," the Governor immediately stated in a monotone slur. John consequently obliged and waited for a short while before the Governor spoke. "We have a problem. You see, a Former-French Admiral, by the name of Luc-Tibou Livi'Nion, is giving us quite a bit of hell south of Haiti."
"If he is a 'Former-French Admiral', then how the hell is giving us trouble?"
"Well, you see, just when he retired and we thought the Caribbean was rid of him, he apparently signed a Letter of Marque, and he is now a Privateer. Recently, at least according to our latest reports, he, with his single Corvette, the Lady Orleans, effectively destroyed a small fleet conveying a regiment of the army to Tortuga for an invasion of the French colony there. It consisted of five transport sloops, a light galleon, and a fifth-class. We cannot allow him to continue to ravage our fleet and menace our shipping lanes. Therefore, I am appointing you to the post of Captain aboard the Intrepid, a brand new fifth-class frigate that was specifically built with French Privateers in mind. It is of the Perseverance-class and will be manned with a full crew complement of two hundred and thirty-five men. It is your job to intercept Livin'Nion before he returns to Tortuga, where he will inevitably return for repairs. Your thirty-six ten pounders will not do much to his ship, as it is heavily-armored, but his crew must have suffered at least a few casualties, and I want you to board his ship and use your manpower advantage to overwhelm him. Now, it is rumored that his ship can reach speeds of fifteen knots, so, to be able to keep up with him, we gave the Intrepid advantages over any other frigate in the Navy when it comes to speed, it is capable of ten knots, and, once you get to him, it will be hard for him to put much distance between you and him, that is, as long as you get in front of him to begin with. Now, before he raids another fleet, go, Captain, and bring Livin'Nion to justice!"
"I am honored, governor, I will bring the scum back to Port Royal, where he can face what all privates deserve, to hang in the courtyard, or to rot in the prison. Thank you, good sir, and I will be off as soon as my crew can hoist the sail." As he responded, John rose to his feet, bowed to the Governor and made haste to get out of his sight. He walked briskly to the docks, and was enthralled to hear the ship was ready to set sail. He boarded, and, without looking back, left port. His mind was now set on the Lady Orleans, and he would not rest until it was at the bottom of the sea, or even better, in the hands of the British...
((Damn, nice posts by all. Though they alerted me to a problem I overlooked in the setting, so go visit the rules area again for the exemption given to locales >.> ... ))
[Port Royal: Docks]
Ugh... another slow day...
Nathaniel Drakken was by and large, more bored than he had ever been in his life. Normally he wouldn't take up residence in a port like this so openly, but he hadn't been in the region long... and by his calculations, assuming the closest victims actually managed to get word out that the False Hope was in fact a pirate vessel, he had two things working in his favor. For one, he had a forged copy of an English Letter of Marque still in his possession. Obviously he had to turn the original over when he was ordered to, and thankfully he'd taken measures ahead of time. It was of course possible to figure out it wasn't legitimate, but the odds of any officer examining it that closely was close to nil; and any that decided to take him and his letter to the proper authorities... well, Nathaniel would have to think of something on the fly.
The second factor working in his favor was time. With the winds what they were, the merchant frigate he and the crew of the Hope had ransacked before coming to Port Royal wasn't due to actually arrive in the nearest port for at least another two to four days; and Port Royal for another six to eight. Which meant, for now at least, he could afford to be a little brash. He currently stood at the stern, looking off into town at the market that had been set up not far from the docks by a few of his crew to sell the recently "acquired" goods. Mostly spices, as a vast majority of the lumber and any usable cloth had been left in the Hope's hold in the event any repairs needed to be made in a hurry out at sea. He ignored the racket coming from behind him, as best he could at least, reassuring himself that the work being done on the mast was vital and well worth both the cost AND the headache. After all, it was a sloop; the one mast was all she had before she was dead in the water. Reinforcing it with iron was in the best interest of himself and his crew if they were going to continue testing their luck in the area. He woudl have liked to have a few guns mounted in the stern, and a pair of chase guns certainly met his fancy as well, but right now he was still a little short on finances.
Especially since the market stall that had been set up to sell the stolen goods was coping with worse business than he usually had to contend with. For the past day and a half they'd at least made enough to partially resupply on gunpowder and shot (for culverin and personal arms alike), as well as fully resupply on food and drinkable water. He was beginning to worry to a lesser extent about the British guards that made their rounds through here; evidently the local authorities were starting to crack down on undesirables, and given the fondness the local pirates had for small ships it was no wonder he kept getting the occasional glance from a passing redcoat. He was more than willing to let them inspect the ship to their heart's content, especially since the crew's own hooper had replaced any marked barrels with unmarked ones crafted on the voyage from the trade routes to port, leaving the former in pieces along the way.
Calm down...you've got nothin' to worry about. They wanna come aboard, let 'em. Refusal will only bring trouble...
[Sea: 70 Nautical Miles South of Ila de Tortue (Tortuga)...]
A chill wind picked up behind the French ship, they were making good time considering the despicable loss in manpower. As they neared the infamous port, my black-flagged ships passed just within telescopic range, normally these were lawless waters, they were pirate's waters.
The black-flagged ships closed in just enough to make out the shape of the also-infamous Corvette, none wished to contend with the third-class, even in her apparently weakened state.
One vessel, however decided to take a closer gander, the fourth-class former English royal ship bore the black cloth of the free-sailors in these treacherous waters, obviously they had not seen nor heard of the former Admiral and his vessel.
Luc was already prepared, the guns were already loaded and every available man at his post with grenade-shot loaded in the front culverines. Two warning shots struck home from sixteen hundred paces, shearing off the frontal-mast and dropping her two triangular sails, the Pirate vessel knew then that it were outclassed in both weaponry and the skill to use it, pulling away with her tail between her legs.
Luc trusted pirates as far as he could throw them, which would only be a few feet. Tortuga was a den of the worst of humanity, not bound by any laws nor dignity as most normal place in the world, it was what men would be like almost as though they were godless, who in Luc's eyes that were true.
He would reach the infamous port by sunlight the next day, but for now, the morning air was a calm cool compared to the heat of yestermorn...
The cargo in the hold was worth more than his earnings in a decade as Admiral, as they say "tous dans le travail d'un jour!" [[All in a day's work!]]
[Sea: 50 Nautical Miles East-North-East of Port Royal]
Captain John Owen looked out over the spacious waters of the Caribbean Sea. His mind drifted to the thought of battle with Livi'Nion, a chance to prove yet again that he was the best captain in the Royal Navy. It was around noontime, and Captain Owen decided to grab a bite to eat before the midday inspection of the crew. He walked to the middle of the deck, where there was a stack of crackers that had been brought up from the stores for lunch. He snacked on one or two and then proceeded to march the length of the ship three times. The first he simply observed how well the crew was managing the ship. The second, he inspected their uniforms while they were at attention. And the third, the crew was at ease, and he made idle chat with them.
While he was in the middle of a fascinating discussion with one of his lieutenants, a crewmen in the crow's nest called out in a heavy Scottish accent, "French ship, dead ahead!" John immediately cocked his head to the expansive water in front of the ship. He didn't see anything at first, in the glare of the twelve o'clock sun, but then, focusing his eyes in on a black spot slightly to port, he saw a small ship. Upon further inspection as the the Intrepid closed the gap between the to ships, and with the aid of a telescope, Owen saw that it was a brig of about ten light cannon. The Intrepid was soon side-to-side with the ship, and it surrendered without a fight. Upon interrogating the Captain, John found out that the small ship was only a scout for a larger fleet, and Captain John knew he would have to steer clear of that. Not only was his ship not equipped to take on a whole fleet, but he knew that he needed his ship and crew in tip-top shape if he was to take the Lady Orleans...
[Sea: 20 Nautical Miles south of Ila de Tortue - Tortuga]
The men were growing restless, normally after such a large-scale raid they would be shipping off to French seas though they were vulnerable with such a loss in manpower. The Pirate-Port grew closer with each moment, yet the threat of Pirates was insignificant, they had cleared the Lady Orleans a direvct path after they wounded the Fourth-class with relative ease.
The moon was set high, casting an eery glow on the canvass, the waves were growing unsteady, yet there was no threat of storm. Luc lay swaying in his hammock, fondly openning his hidden locket, gazing at the warming face of his 32-year old spouse. He hadn't heard from her, let alone felt her velvet skin in over eighteen months, she lived in Paris, in as best accomodation as money could buy. Luc wrote to her every month, though never had time to hunt down letters of return, nearly every package he sent had at least one item of significant beauty and value, a gold bracelet here, diamond ring there though he was thankful that she didn't know how he came to possess them, pried from the bloodied hands of the English...
The Voyage was quite uneventful, nightwatchmen were tripled with the looming threat of the Pirates, there wasn't a moment where at least three sails weren't on the horizon.
Sitting up with a groan, replacing his silent secret under his matted beard, Luc leapt out of the hammock nimbly for someone of his age and moved to an old oak chest. From inside a padded-crushed-velvet case came an Italian Cello of the highest quality, carved from maple and teak, gold attachments to compliment the beautiful design, a present from the Master of the Fleet upon Luc's retirement.
As soon as the wand touched the strings, a sound eminated that could bring a tear to even the most hardened of sea-dogs, Luc was no master of the instument, though his skill needed no more encouragement than what the instrument herself offered.
The men in lower decks appreciated the break in the monotony, the sound eminated throughout the rear decks and many hummed along.
To Luc, time had slowed to a crawl as the sound engulfed him, the next thing he realized, was the sun's first light creeping through his cabin-window, time had infact raced...
"Terre sur l'horizon!" the first-watch called, the infamed Ila de Tortue lay in wait before them, the sun behind casting an ornate halo around the otherwise bleak den of sin. [[Land on the horizon!]]
Luc regrettably cased and stored his prize possession, making good time to the main deck, his brass and crystal telescopic eyeglass making good detail on the approaching landmass.
"Tortuga..." he muttered under his breath, they would be docking within the hour.
[Sea: 100 Nautical Mile North-East of Port Royal]
As night engulfed the sea and the Intrepid, Captain John Owen lay sleepless in his bed. This was not unusual for him, as it often occurs when he is on a mission of any importance. He began to realize the governor was foolish to expect him to find the Lady Orleans before it docked at Tortuga. She had such a head start on his ship that, at best, John thought it only possible to catch her leaving port, when she would be strongest. But there would be advantages to that, too. The Lady Orleans would have its back to the shore, so there would be no escape and limited maneuverability for her, or, even better, he would catch the Lady Orleans while it was in port, an opportunity for an almost sure victory. To these thoughts of pride and glory, Owen drifted off to sleep...
The French Corvette silently glided past the craggy rocks that surrounded the entrance into Tortuga. Luc-Tibou could already see that the town was nearly –dead, they must have been celebrating something all night as many dozens of hung-over men lay allover the docks and up the streets. Apparently this place was worse than he had been told, not only were they drunk and hardly moving, many half-naked women littered the scene also, indicating that prostitution was not a taboo here… Nor was rape…
If the English wished to reclaim this port, morning was apparently the time to do so, even the make-shift fort here was a pathetic excuse, only a few remained conscious, if drooping eyes and wide yawns could be called consciousness…
“Le lieutenant, nous fixent aux docks et disposent une partie armée pour aller à terre. Restent vigilants, ceux-ci sont des pirates après tous!” Luc bellowed to his first officer, he would make haste and claim what he needed before waking the rabble, there was no telling what they might do. [[Lieutenant, secure us to the docks and prepare an armed party to go ashore. Remain vigilant, these are pirates after all!]]
“Oui Capitaine!” snapped the French-Italian First officer, with a click of his heels, he spun and began barking at the men, “Fixez les docks, armements sur la plate-forme, faites vite ou c'est la prison pour vous!” [[Yes Captain! Secure the docks, armaments on deck, make haste or it’s the brig for you!]]
Luc stood upon the prow with pride, his men appeared as an orderly army of France’s finest officers compared to the filth that littered the Pirate-Port, with trained efficiency the Lady Orleans was docked and men with loaded rifle and powder quietly marched onto the dock in search of a trader, Lu-Tibou placed in the middle for protection.
(Seth, I’ll assume as this is your game you’d want to control the NPCs so I’ll let you be the pirates here unless you’ll allow me to control them…)
[Sea: 150 Nautical Miles South-West of Tortuga]
As the sun rose over the dark blue sea, the image of five French ships appeared on the horizon, but it was nothing to worry about, as Owen was already aware of the fleet's existence. He had already informed his crew of the protocols that needed to be followed, and the Intrepid's superior speed was more than enough to outmaneuver the large, bulky fleet, and she continued on her way...
((no, it's a minor island actually in the Caribbean))
The sun was beginning to rise over the mountainous terrain, shedding light in droves over the sleepy-pirate community. Luc was surrounded by his men who were on high-alert, ready to cut and shoot anything that was willing to attack.
Signs hun over the doors here and there, showing directions to popular places such as the many taverns or traders, Luc-Tibou needed wood and sail-cloth and about fivehundred yards of rigging.
behind the little entourage his men carried canvas-slings loaded with the bounty taken from the english Fleet: three sacks of coffee, a hundred pounds of processed-cocoa (Chocolate) and fivehundred-odd English musket rifles and enough shot and powder to sack an entire fort, pilfered from the troop-transport sloops and from the dead-hands of the Redcoat soldiers.
Surprisingly, the major trader in the area was calm and placid, his shop hardly in the state of dis-repair such as the rest of the town, he was rather smartly dressed for a Pirate, greeting Luc and his men with a hopeful smile.
"Est-ce que cher capitaine, je peux être le premier pour vous accueillir au Tortuga, je suspecte que ce ne soit pas une visite sociale?" he greeted, spotting that they were obviously not English sailors. [[dear captain, may I be the first to welcome you to Tortuga, I suspect that this is not a social visit?]]
"En effet, j'ai besoin d'assez de planche, toile à voile et calage pour couvrir une frégate deux fois autour, aussi bien que tous les 'bons 'hommes qui peuvent être épargnés, je n'en veux aucun de ce pirate-détritus..." Luc replied curtly. [[indeed, I need enough plank, sail-cloth and rigging to cover a frigate twice around, as well as any 'good' men that can be spared, I want none of this pirate-trash...]]
"Malheureusement monsieur, ce genre de chose ne peut pas être trouvé ici, bien que je puisse avoir votre ordre dans des moments! Queest-ce que je demander pourrais serais le paiement, le commerce ou la pièce de monnaie?" The trader answered, his tone was as if he tried his hardest not to offend his customer. [[Unfortunately sir, that kind of thing can't be found here, though I can have your order within moments! what might i ask would be the payment, trade or coin?]]
"Le commerce, comme vous pouvez voir..." Luc motioned behind him, the sacks and canvas ladened down with the goods, his men, opened them up and revealed their contents to the Trader, who beamed delightfully. [[Trade, as you can see...]]
"Monsieur très bon, celui semble davantage que proportionné!" he bowed politely to the gruff-looking French captain, exiting almost at a jog and rousing his men to make ready their customer's order. [[Very good sir, that seems more than adequate!]]
overall it took the trader all of thirty minutes to complete the transaction, dropping a sizable pouch of Spanish Doubloons to make the trade even as weapons and Chocolate were two of the most expensive commodities.
Luc thanked his luck that the Pirate-Port decided now to wake up, they were all groggy and blurry-eyed, not even realizing the Privateer and his men moving through with many rounds of plank and sail-cloth, they had to make several trips before weighing anchor.
Luc willed to leave this godless place before making his repairs, pirates were not only untrustworthy scum, they were also quite unpredictable and more often than not quite dangerous.
With the morning warming on their backs, the Lady Orleans made her way out of the infamed pirate-den, unaware of the English-hunter that lurked nearby...
((Whoops, forgot to mention about the spare mast... I don't have enough time to mention it and begin translating as the fifteen minute edit period is nearly up!))
In the glare of the morning sun, it took Captain John Owen a little longer than he usually would to find the Lady Orleans in the expansive waters of the Caribbean Sea, but it did not matter too much, as he new what he was looking for, and had the crew at the ready for battle. He yelled to the crew to assume their battle positions. The Intrepid was already in good position for a broadside, and Owen ordered it, bringing to bear eighteen of her twelve pounders. The shots pierced the silence of the open sea; the large, black spheres of death rained down upon the Lady Orleans. The battle had begun!
The initial bombardment did little against the hulking vessel, merely shattering block-and-tackle along with a few souls lost...
Their answer back, however was not as polite... the sixteen thirty-four pound guns roared ferociously, the entire ship bucked under the shock, solid-shot rained down noisy death on the English ship, the range was incredible and only a few shots missed as his crew were masters of naval warfare...
Captain John Owen hit the deck as soon as the shots were fired. This was not a precaution he usually took, but he realized this was not an ordinary cannonade, and the last thing his crew needed was to have their captain killed and take the Lady Orleans themselves. After the bombardment ceased, John rose to survey the damage. Several of the Intrepid's guns had been blown apart, and quite a few of the crew lay sprawled on the wooden planks. Captain Owen now knew he was not going to win a long range battle, even though the Lady Orleans had already been previously damaged. Both sides scrambling to reload, Captain John ordered his crew to turn the Intrepid to the side, out of the way of the majority of the Lady Orleans' gunfire. The Intrepid was now in front of the French Privateer and beginning to turn slightly toward the vessel. The crew was almost ready to board, but John ordered one more artillery barrage before the crew reported to the upper deck.
Luc saw his opponent's plan, the attack from the aft could slow the Lady Orleans down... but the French Privateer had another scheme, the Intrepid swung around to the Port-side of his ship, his men read his thoughts through subtle action, the Port cannons loaded with Knippel-shot.
"La droite dure, déploient des traîner-poids! Apportez nos pistolets pour soutenir et faire prêt le vent! Préparez pour repousser des internes de peur que nous soyons attrapés par leur embarquer-attaquions!" the weathered French seaman barked, his orders followed to the letter. [[Hard right, deploy drag-weights! Bring our guns to bear and make ready the wind! Prepare to repel boarders lest we be caught by their boarding-attack!]]
The Lady-Orleans dragged the water on her Starboard, bringing the Port broadside to bear. the Sixteen-intact guns aimed high for the masts, the sails took hold of the wind and brought the Intrepid within their line of sight. with either ship facing opposite directions, the Chain-shots were let loose upon the rigging, sails and mast; even if the masts didn't fall, the damage to the ship's maneuverability's and speed would be drastically reduced, allowing the Lady Orleans to escape from their boarding attempt.
The men had to cover their ears as the ship was rocked again by the force of the Demi-Cannons, the shots louder then the crack of lightning and thunder as the Knippels flew through the Intrepid's means of propulsion, the size of the shots catching everything in their path, shattering one of the mast though amazingly not completely felling it.
Both ships had fired simultaneously, with the Orleans aiming high, the Intrepid's crew were free to let loose a full broadside that killed a dozen men, unmounted three of the mighty cannons, destroying two others and blowing away one of the minor powder-stores, though thankfully not igniting it.
The French ship now seized her advantage, catching the full force of the wind in her favor, leaving the Intrepid to pull about and try to catch up with her with such damage caused to the rigging and sails, if they did try and go with the wind, the force would surely snap the wounded mast clean off.
Luc-Tibou regretted having to run, but that English ship was led by a sound structure of leadership, combining that with the overpowering number of men, Captain Luc-Tibou was confident that he would've lost. The Lady Orleans was fitted to move at speeds up to a possible fourteen knots, but the damage to the hull and mountings had dropped his speed even in such high wind to just nine knots, still faster than the Intrepid was able at present...
It was now that Captain John Owen realized he was up against one of the finest when it came to naval captaincy. He quickly realized that his ship was in no shape to chase after Livi'Nion, and he decided to instead return to Tortuga, conquer the island, and confiscate the ship parts that he knew the pirates had for use on the Intrepid...
Luc stood at the stern of the top deck, surveying the rizing smoke that drifted from his wounded adversary as it faded over the horizon. He realized that his men were running thin, of the 67 that accompanied him into Tortuga, only 52 now remained, any more and his ship wouldn't even be able to fire a single broadside as well as keep his ship moving.
The afternoon sun warmed the cold decks, the chill wind died down to a slow, reducing the Lady Orleans to just six knots. Luc consulted his maps, searching for a freindly port from where to hire more men and make complete repairs.