NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: All OOC comments and registration go in the registration thread, found here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=528448), please and thank you.

Map (http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v650/That_Bum/?action=view&current=CaribbeanMapCarte.jpg) is made.

IC:

"Captain" Michael Harland stood at the wheel of the Immortal Voyage. Hull, fully stocked. Rum barrels, practically overflowing. Crew, eighty five strong. Wind, favorable. Yes, it was time to leave Tortuga.

"Drop sail and raise anchor. Let's go see if we can have some fun." Kirtanis smiled. He had a good feeling about this trip.

IC: Captain James looked back at the ship they had just looted, it was a Merchant ship.

Nice loot He throught, Rum, clothes, gold coins were taken.

The merchant ship exploded and all his crew laughed.

"Lets find some booty." said James

Tag.

OOC: map is done

OOC: map is done


nice map

Francis Weldheimer looked at teh small fire sailing ahead of him.

"Mr Jurgen, tell the men to put out all our lights and ready for the attack run." His first mate nodded and left quickly. The ship suddenly went dark, the men carried there own small lamps and were ready to relight them when they came close to the merchant. As time passes the Black Lightning drew closer and closer to the merchants unseen by there crew. At only a kilmoeter behind the men relight the lamps and readied the guns. The merchant ship sprang to life. "Prepare the cannons!" Weldheimer ordered.

"Yes sir." Jurgen responded. The ship came alongside the merchants and the captain spoke.

"Surrender the ship and wares and you shall not be harmed." Weldheimer yelled. The merchants looked over carrying lamps. There answer was predictable, no. Weldheimer sighed. "Fire!" The heavy 18-lb guns wrang out and the shots crashed into the small merchant vessel. "This is your last chance to surrender." He yelled.

Three Hours Later

"Sir, they were carrying a good stockpile of rum and spices." Jurgen told his commander.

"Good good." Weldheimer answered looking back at the ship they had just ransacked. "Jurgen when will these people learn?" He asked watching the merchants sails burning.

"I dont think they will Captain." Jurgen answered. "I dont think they will."

Captain Harland looked out over his crew. They were a few sailing days away from any port, but he wanted to test them. He blew his captain's whistle loudly, cutting over the noise of the wind.

"Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely," Harland smiled at the roaring laughter, "it is my privilege to say that you are the finest crew I have ever set sail with." Another cheer echoed up from the men. "So, we are going to put ourselves to the test. The pirate port of Barbuda is behind a blockade of British and Spanish ports. However, they also have some of the richest goods in the Caribbean. Men, we are going to get to Barbuda, traveling right under the noses of those British and Spanish sailors. Can you do it?" A resounding cheer went up from the men and even a few hats were tossed into the air. Smiling, Harland turned to his first mate.

"Mr. Kirtanis?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Set course for Barbuda."

"Right away, sir." Harland smiled, walking over to the ropes near the wheel, grabbing onto one of them, and leaning over the side, hanging on.

"Now, bring me that horizon."

The HMS Growl with it's three sister ships following behind had left port only moments before. However, the coast or any other land for that matter was out of sight. Wolfe looked down at his sword with a grim expression. His first mate came up to him, waiting for his captain to notice him. You never in your life, bothered the captain when he was doing something and that included him just looking at his sword.

"Yes, Lieutenant Homer. What do you want?" Asked Wolke acknowledging his top officer.

"I'm here to inform you that all officers and crew are ready, sir." Said Lieutenant Homer.

"Good, then I am to guess everything is ready?"

"Any moment now sir."

The other three ships were traveling in formation when their leader, the HMS Growl kicked up in speed. The problem was that the HMS Growl was the fastest British ship in the area. There was no way they could keep up, the captains looked towards their leader's ship with a look of confusion.

On one of the three ships a gunner was looking though the loads of ammo. His hand brushed against a barrel which caused one of the cannon balls to roll around the deck. Thats when he noticed that the ammunition was... armed. Bloody Hell. That was the last thought of the British sailor as expulsions erupted around them, as well as on the other two ships.

Wolfe looked at the three ships as they sank to the bottom of the ocean. He ordered the whole crew to stop working and so that the crew can pray to the gods. They prayed for forgiveness and that the gods had mercy on their ex-comrades. Then Wolfe yelled, "From now on! The HMS Growl and her crew work for themselves and not for anyone of royal blood!" There were cheers though out the ship.

"Set sail! We got to find a port to re-supply and then we got some stuff that needs some finishing!" He yelled out once again.

--snip--

OOC: Wait... so are you British or pirate now? I'm confused, lol

OOC: Wait... so are you British or pirate now? I'm confused, lol

More like a group of rebels who want to... I don't want to ruin the surprise, but lets say it involves a certain crew taking over a city and holding someone hostage to complete some goals. Over time you'll see why the crew is doing this, but for now I guess you can see them as a pirate crew if you want. However, they won't do any pirate stuff... It's hard to explain :confused:

More like a group of rebels who want to... I don't want to ruin the surprise, but lets say it involves a certain crew taking over a city and holding someone hostage to complete some goals. Over time you'll see why the crew is doing this, but for now I guess you can see them as a pirate crew if you want. However, they won't do any pirate stuff... It's hard to explain :confused:

I was jw is all... I had the Immortal Voyage on a beeline to where you were, maybe they'll still run into each other.

Two days into their voyage, and the Immortal Voyage still had a strong, favorable wind at it's back. Checking his charts, Harland smiled softly to himself. They might actually make record time to Barbuda, as long as they didn't run into anyone along the way.

"Captain!" The shouting voice woke him from his slight zoning. "Debris off the port bow!" Leaving his charts where they lay, Harland grabbed his telescope and moved to the front of the ship. Extending it and sighting, Harland's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

Before them lay the remains of two burning hulls, and a British flag in the water. "Bloody hell..." Harland mouthed, "Who the hell did this to two British ships?" The Immortal Voyage passed right between the two shattered vessels, her crewmen looking over the side at the destruction. Harland swallowed hard.

"All men to their stations! I want two lookouts in the crow's nest and keep a weather eye on that horizon. I want to know long before anyone else if there is a ship coming near us." He turned back to the wheel. "Helmsman, give us more speed."

The HMS Growl was at half-full speed now which was very high, the wind moved with them to their unkown heading. Wolfe had ordered for all weapons and gunners to stand at the ready. They were due back to report in three days, but the Governor asked for daily reports by him. None of which he would get, which in turn would mean search crews and ships would come looking for them. Sadly for anyone who found them, they would face off against one of Britain's finest ships. One with large number of guns, soldiers and extremely high speeds. There was one problem for the ship, it's cargo hold would only allow for one and a half months travel at most. That however, would not be a problem for now, but it could mean death if they had to stay at sea for a long time. In fact, one of the other ships was a cargo holder, which carried supplies for the HMS Growl.

OOC: That is the pro and con for the HMS Growl, its a way to keep it balanced.

"Ship ahoy. Off the starboard bow!" The call rang down through the crew decks and into Captain Harland's chambers. Tossing his hat on and stepping outside, he grabbed a telescope and sighted ahead, recognizing a large ship, British-built, but not flying a British flag. We they the ones that had sunk those other British vessels back a ways?

"Fire a cannon shot, let them know we're here. Keep a sharp eye on them." Harland yelled, continuing to sight.

"Cannons ready, sir!"

"One cannon, fire!" Harland yelled, then waited for the ship in the distance to make the next move.

"Captian! Were being fired upon!" A sailor yelled, but without a hint of fear in his voice.

"Bring us on their left! Full speed! All men prepare for battle!" Yelled Wolfe giving out his orders. Men with rifles hurried onto the deck as cannons on both sides were loaded. The HMS Growl had 38 guns at the ready, 15 on each side, 4 on the forward and 4 on the aft. The captain was ready to fire if the hostile ship did anything else, but if they fired the speed alone of his ship should cause them to miss. Even then, he was greatly displeased by the turn of events. He didn't like killing people at random.

OOC: How do we make contact, you know. Talk with each other?

Off-shore of Petit Goave, French port on the tip of Hispaniola (Haiti)

~ Striding slowly towards the bow of his anchored ship, he made sure to make eye contact with every one of his crew whom he came across. They were a family now: the only family they had left. They had fought and died with one another for almost 2 years now, and had become what the French called the "Second Scourge", considering them worse than the infamous Blackbeard or even the "Great Pyrate Roberts".

Captain Marinaio grinned slightly, for he was no pirate. No, no, everything he was doing was perfectly legitimate. His revenge was orchestrated and paid for by the Spanish crown, which was eager to re-establish its power in the Caribbean. Ever since the 1600s, as more and more nations staked claims in these waters, Holy Spain had been desperately trying to throw them out.

The final blow came in Queen Anne's War, which pitted Spain and France against England and Holland. The devastation towards the Spanish ports and ships, not to mention the rise in piracy afterwards, was more than the Costa Garda could handle. So, Spain had once again begun to offer out Letters of Marque, legalizing privateering in the name of Spain.

Ciro Marinaio had gotten hold of one such Letter when he arrived in Havana with a commission and a ship from the Spanish government, and was pleased to find out that the Spanish were actually at war with the French, trying to reclaim Hispaniola. Ciro eagerly took up action, pitting his Brig, the Furia Giusta, up against much larger French vessels. To date, he had captured nearly 100 Merchantmen, as well as a few Dutch Fluyts sailing under French flags, and had even engaged and sunk a French Royal Sloop and a Brig of War that had been acting as Pirate Hunters.

Loved by Pirates, for he supported their work against French and English shipping, but also championed by the English, Portuguese, and Dutch for attacking France and not them, Ciro had made quite a reputation for himself, and now, he was going to further his own legend.
_____

The Furia Giusta sat in gun range of the port of Petit Goave with its starboard facing the port itself. No action had been taken against it, and no ship had come near it. She rose no colors, and the only identifiable mark on her was a green Cross emblazoned on the main square sail.

Captain Ciro Marinaio had been instructing his men for the past few days of this operation, and now, he meant to go through with it. The French would pay for the murder of his father, and no matter how many men, ships, and even colonies they lost, it would still not be enough. The guns were ready, the anchor was being pulled up, everything was all set.

In nearly a hushed tone, standing right in the middle of the ship, Ciro commanded, " Fire."

A thunderous clap shook the sky and the sea, smoke shrouded the ship, and twelve buildings crumbled in Petit Goave.

A start, Ciro mused to himself, but only a start ...

As the starboard guns were loaded, the ship turned quickly to port, bringing its next broadside to bear. In the port, women cried, children screamed, and men ran frantically about. As the Spanish and Genoan flag rose on the mast, the people knew who was after them, knew their fate: Il Italiano would burn that city to the ground. They fled as militia moved in to prepare to repel a landing force, only to find that the Furia Giusta had fired again, the volley heading right for them.

On the deck of his ship, Ciro Marinaio grinned ...~

"Captian! Were being fired upon!" A sailor yelled, but without a hint of fear in his voice.

"Bring us on their left! Full speed! All men prepare for battle!" Yelled Wolfe giving out his orders. Men with rifles hurried onto the deck as cannons on both sides were loaded. The HMS Growl had 38 guns at the ready, 15 on each side, 4 on the forward and 4 on the aft. The captain was ready to fire if the hostile ship did anything else, but if they fired the speed alone of his ship should cause them to miss. Even then, he was greatly displeased by the turn of events. He didn't like killing people at random.

OOC: How do we make contact, you know. Talk with each other?

OOC: Pretty much, yeah. Raise a flag of truce of whatever. Oh, and I wasn't firing on you. We were a good mile or two back when we fired, we just did that to get your attention.

IC:

"Captain, they are turning to fire!" A sailor shouted from the forward bow. Through his looking glass, Harland could see that the ship was indeed coming around, the sailors readying their guns.

"Bring us about to show them our aft, give them a smaller cross-section to fire upon. Raise the truce flag, show them we only want to talk." The captain shouted as the Immortal Voyage started to turn about. Standing on the aft end of the ship, Harland raised a bullhorn.

"Oy, sailors! We don't want to fight. We wanted to get your attention to see if you had anything to do with those two ships back a ways!" No response as of yet.

"Get ready to take evasive action, don't worry about firing, they've got us out gunned." Harland said to his first mate, voice tense.

Weldheimer read the map of the Carribean carefully. Things were happening everywhere. "Jurgen, set course for Saba, the brits will be interested in getting these supplies." Jurgen nodded and left the room. Weldheimer surveyed the map. So far no sign of any good weak convoys had come up for him to raid. He was hoping that by the time he reached Saba there would be one.

OOC: I know that, but the captain didn't.

IC:
Wolfe was now really pissed, but a little more happier now that the other ship didn't seem to want a fight. He put his looking glass away.

"It might be a trick so stand at the ready. Bring us on to the side of that ship." Wolfe then took out a bullhorn of his own.

"What are you talking about?! We were just traveling about! We are coming up on your side so that we can talk face to face!" The ship decreased speed at a rabidly high rate until it was on the unknown ship's side, armed guards on the HMS Growl stood at the ready. Just because they betrayed the Empire didn't mean they had to act like pirates, many of them saw them as military men still. So they were always ready for action, no matter where it might take place.

~ Petit Goave offered nearly no resistance after the initial bombardment. 5 broadsides had hit the city, killing many, damaging much, and all but wiping out the town Guard. As if a returning hero, Ciro Marinaio brought his ship up to dock at the port. His crew charged in to the town, looting and pillaging, but under their captain's strict orders they were not to harm any of the townsmen left behind. For while Ciro's hatred of the French burned like the Sun, he did not hate these French men and women: they did him no wrong. However, every ship and town in the Caribbean belonged to the French Crown, and that was his intended target in these raids.

Strolling down the streets with the same swager he had on his ship, Marinaio made his way into the tavern, flanked by two of his senior crewmates. The people inside could not escape when the attack began, and cowered in a corner when Ciro approached. One, a young lady, rushed forward waving a pistol, and actually fired the weapon at Ciro. She was stricken with fright, making the shot go wild, hitting a wooden plank in the ceiling.

She froze and drop the weapon upon realizing what she had done. Ciro stepped forward, gently grabbed the barrel of the pistol, and tugged ever so slightly. The girl let go and let her hand fall to her cheek, as if she had been slapped.

Ciro tucked the gun in his sash and chided the young girl.

" Now, that's not the way to greet someone, is it?" he asked in perfect French. She looked shocked that some savage such as Il Italiano could speak her language, but she shook her head all the same.

" No ... no, it's not ..."

The voice of a dove Ciro thought. He patted her gently on the head, and then left, once again accompanied by his two men. The girl stood there for a moment more, and then hurriedly rushed out one of the back doors ...
_____

As the city was looted and the men finally returned to the Furia Giusta, Ciro returned too. However, when he finally arrived, he heard a small voice behind him.

" Wait!"

He turned slowly, only to see the young lady from the tavern running towards him, carrying what looked like a rucksack used to store sugarcane after it had been cut.

" Come back for your pistol?" the Captain asked sarcastically as he raised an eyebrow in surprise that this woman had the boldness to approach him after he had destroyed the city around them with almost no expression.

" No, no," she stopped a few feet away from Ciro, and then took a very small step forward. She cleared her throat and then said rather flatly, " I want to join you."

Ciro Marinaio took a step back when he heard this. He looked her over quickly: about his height, maybe a little shorter, her flowing dark hair touselled in the sea wind, and her green eyes possessing a radiant beauty he had not noticed before.

He scratched his chin for a moment, looking out towards the sea.

" How old are you?"

She gulped before she answered, " Twenty one."

He thought it over more.

" Any reason why you want to betray your countrymen? Sailing with me, you will be capturing and killing Frenchmen."

She nodded once. " I know. This town, this life ... there's nothing for me. I want to leave, I want ... I want adventure."

At this, Ciro could not help but laugh.

" So that's what this is? The 'glorious life of the Privateer'? You understand how we live? We are wretches that our Mother Country would rather sweep under the carpet and forget that we ever existed, we are scorned and hated by many, and our daily lives are a struggle against the Earth itself. You understand this?" the Captain quipped with a harsh undertone.

" Yes ... please, please take me away from here. There's ... there's nothing left for me." she looked towards the ground, and then back at the town when she said "me".

He felt pity for her: he knew what it was like, to be landlocked, with nothing in your life going for you. He sighed, looked at his ship, then at the sea again, and finally waved her over.

" What's your name?"

She smiled brightly as she answered " Sabine," and, before he knew what was happening, she had wrapped her arms around him: she was hugging him. Quickly, he brushed her off, holding her in place by her arms.

" First off, you don't do that. Understood?"

She nodded quickly, and then Ciro continued.

" You will stay in my cabin and you will act as one of the crew: when we fight, you fight, when we dine, you dine."

She agreed happily, made way to try and hug the Captain again, thought better of it, and then locked her hands behind her back, rocking forward and backward on her heels.

" Well, when do we set off?"

Ciro looked at his ship, and noticed that everything was ready. " We set sail now, and don't make me regret this."

She laughed slightly, " You won't, and besides, I have information that may be of interest to you."

Ciro joined in her laughter (though it was actually at her expense) when he heard this. " Oh, really? What kind of information?"

She stopped and at him as he strode up the gangplank.

" Information on a map. A map that leads to unthinkable riches."

At this, Ciro's ears perked up. Maybe, he thought, it was a good idea to have Sabine on board after all.~

*bump* (don't want this to die)

Weldheimer stood at the front of his ship as it headed towards Saba. A detour had occured when he spotted a pair of Dutch ships to plunder. Right now the Black Lightning was so full of booty that it barly made it here without a hitch.

Hours Later

"Captain."

"Yes Jurgen?"

"Supplies have been fully unloaded. We are ready to go."

"Good, good. Set sail for Petit Grove. I hear some ships there have valuable information." Weldheimer ordered. Immediatly the men went to work. Francis turned back to the front and looked towards the horizon. His men didnt rest until he felt like resting. Sure it made him less popular, but these men were pirates, not to be truste either way.

~ The Furia Giusta had set sail away from Hispaniola, and redirected towards San Juan where Ciro and his men could unload the plunder of Petit Goave.

As he stood by the helm, Sabine had come up to him and had begun to tell him of the map that she had mentioned.

" Several years ago, the Spanish treasure Galleon, Caballo Rapido, was caught in a hurricane off the coast of Curacao, and was completely destroyed, her cargo washing up in Curacao, Caracas, and Puerto Bello. A large chest containing a map leading to a 'place of a thousand riches' happened to come into the hands of a Dutch merchantman, who carried his crew all across the Caribbean trying to find the treasure."

Ciro nodded as she went along, " Did he ever find it?"

" No," she shook her head solemnly, " Captain Hans Pieterzoon's ship was captured and sunk by Pirates operating out of World's End, a small port based on the islands south of Western Cuba. The fools however didn't care for the map, and pawned it away in World's End, where it passed from captain to captain, each trying to find their way to where it lead. None have succeeded, and I happen to know for a fact that the last ship carrying that map is the French frigate Liberte Rogue, operating for the French government to try and secure the treasure for the French crown."

Ciro could not believe his ears when he heard this. In fact, he almost didn't believe her.

" How do you know all this?"

She simply turned to him and smiled, her dark hair waving slightly from the sea breeze.

" The Liberte Rogue had set sail from Petit Goave a few days before you arrived, and if I remember hearing correctly, she's bound for Santa Catalina, an island to the East of Nicaragua. Amazing the things you hear in a tavern, no?" she laughed slightly as she could feel the thrill of a chase about to happen.

Finally, Sabine thought, I will be able to see the world, to leave my past ...

While Captain Marinaio thought over how he would get to Santa Catalina after docking at San Juan, he heard a voice above him calling down.

" Captain! Ship ahoy* towards the bow!"

Rushing to the front of his ship, Ciro pulled out a spyglass as he ran. Finally reaching the bow, he peered over the calm ocean before his Brig, and there it was: a massive ship with so many sails that it looked like a cloud was coming towards them. He couldn't see any flag flying, and his gut feeling was a bad one.

He dashed back towards the helm, as the helmsman asked him for orders. Thinking quickly, he called forth the navigator.

" How far are we from San Juan?"

The navigator thought for a moment, and then responded, " We're a few hours away, maybe 4 or 5."

That sounded about right, as Ciro could see the Western coast of Puerto Rico fast approaching. He also knew that in between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico was a series of very small islands, as well as shallow waters: perfect for his Brig to sail through.

" Helmsman!" Set course sixty degrees left! Head for the channel 'twixt the islands!"

With a quick, " Aye!", the ship began a rapid turn. Ciro only hoped that he could outrun the frigate heading towards him.~


*Ship = Black Lightning, heading from the East.

HMS Agamemnon cut gracefully through the clear blue water of the Caribbean sea comming back from a long range patrol in search of hostille vessels. The Royal command of the area was interested in enemy movements and to which direction most of them came to terrorize the crowns shipping lanes.

Captian Richard Braxton stood near the helm of his vessel looking out over the sea, a cool breeze filled the sails of the, HMS Agamemnon, a fine example of English craftmanship,

"Clear sea's, a cool breeze, the sun is high in the sky and we are making good time to our destination..."

"Yes sir, a fine day indeed..it is to be expected given the amount of action we have seen this last week"

Replyed a ships officer by the name of Johnson, he was a good sailor and also had the job of quartermaster onboard the vessel. While the mighty ship of the line moved along, all the brass aboard the vessel was being shined and the decks were being cleaned aswell. The last few days for HMS Agamemnon were good, they only suffered minimal damage fighting afew pirate scooners/ sloops they came across destroying them both taking but few prisoners.

"Keep us on this course, steady speed all ahead..be on the lookout aswell, and raise our colours im heading to my cabin"

"Yes sir!"

Captian Braxton moved down the stairs onto the main deck and proceeded through the doors towards his cabin. Once inside he took off his hat setting it on a large oak desk, from the rear windows of his quarters he seen he sparkling ocean to their rear, he sat down and opened a bottle of brandy pouring it into a glass...he looked on the wall to see four swords, two belonging to French Captians who surrendered to him, a Spanish sword and a Pirate Captians sword all in a line. Richard was proud of his acheivements as a young Captian, he was respected and considered a gentleman by other officals.

He sat there thinking of his career so far as he had a relaxing drink.....

OOC: Im basicly sailing...feel free to run into me..

Weldheimer looked at the horizon. As Petit Grove came into view so did another ship. This one was bearing the Spanish flag (feel free to correct me on this). Weldheimer also saw smoke rising from the coastal community. "Jurgen!" He called to his first officer.

"Yes captain?"

"How many provisions do we have left?" Weldheimer asked using his telescope to scan the ship as it began to head for the maze of islands to Hispanola.

"More than ample for a chase sir." Jurgen responded suspecting what the captain was planning to do.

"Good." Weldheimer paused for a moment ashe lowered the telesope and folded it. "Follow that ship, full speed." Jurgen saluted and left yelling orders immediatly. Weldheimer knew that the smaller Brig would make for shallow waters to make following it difficult, but if i had just attacked the city as he suspected, it no doubt carried cargo of value aboard, and Weldheimer wanted it.

OOC: Yup, no Spanish Flag, Ciro flies the Genoan Flag, in honor of his heritage: this would not be familiar in the Caribbean at all.

IC:

~ " Mierda! Captain, she's givin' chase!"

The call from the crow's nest was not something Captain Ciro Marinaio was in the mood to hear. He began to shout orders to prepare the ship to make full speed and be combat ready if needed. He knew that as long as his ship could at least make it to San Juan, the harbor's shore batteries would be able to stop the larger ship from pursuing any further.

" Set full sail! Any extra food or supplies we can abandon for the immediate moment, cast overboard! And load all the guns with chain and grape!" He didn't want to sink the enemy, but if they needed a little 'persuading' to give up the pursuit, then so be it. As his men carried out his orders, Ciro felt a small tug on the back of his shirt. He whirled around to see Sabine standing quite close to him and was surprised to see her a little bit taller. He looked down quickly to see that she was actually standing on her toes.

" Yes?" he gave her a quizzical look as he wondered what she wanted.

" What can I do to help?" she asked enthusiastically, her body swinging from side to side.

Shaking his head exasperatedly from side to side, he waved her away and strode back to the helm.

" Nothing, just ... go into the main cabin and wait, I don't need any distractions here."

" No!" she stamped after the Captain, finally making it in front of him before he made it to the stairs leading up. " No, you said I would be one of the crew, that I would fight with the crew. Now, what are my orders, Captain?"

Taking a step back, Ciro could not believe that this French maiden would stand up to him like this. And yet, he admired her for it at the same tme.

" Help unfurl the sails, and afterwards, take to the bow and help guide us through the shallows up ahead."

" Aye, Captain!"

She ran off towards mid-ship, leaving Captain Marinaio intrigued to learn more about her. However, escape was his foremost concern. Looking out towards the starboard side, he could see the hostile ship bearing towards the Furia Giusta, while a bit towards port were breaking waves in the middle of the ocean: shallows, where his smaller Brig could get away. However, his ship could not outrun the bigger vessel; not by a long shot. It had too many sails, and if it got in range, its guns could cut him down in a second.

His only choice was to flee, much like the regular pirate would flee from a national warship. Ironic how the situation is reversed, he thought. Still, he still had the advantage of knowing these waters: the currents, the hidden shoals, the shallow points: he could outrun them. He could win this fight. Win, that is, by running away.~

Captain Jean-Pierre Lafayette boarded the French Ship and quickly scanned his crew of 700. The ship, Victorie, was safely pocketed inside the French port of Jamaica. Around the ship were smaller, weaker dingys and craft floating around in the emerald-green sea.

"Lift the anchor! Let's get out of this port. To sea!" Soon, the crew manned their positions and the ship began leaving the harbor towards the open sea...

HMS Agamemnon continued to sail on it's original course back towards the Bahama's where it would re-arm, re-supply and receive new orders then venture back out to sea. The ship had went wide and moved around Jamaica so to not make contact with grouped French vessels and enemy ports, all that could be seen in the distance was the wide open sea....

Captian Braxton did an inspection of the ships decks and brass, he was impressed that he could nearly see his reflection in the metal,

"Good job..we approach Hati, be on alert and anything that comes into veiw im to be informed immeaditly then the decision on where we stand will be made"

A loud relpy was heard,

"Aye, aye Captian sir!"

The men returned to their stations and Braxton to his quarters leaving his first mate, Mr. Daniels in charge.

OOC: I cut up inbetween those two ports (Port & French) im headed towards the Bahama's....

Weldheimer watched the ship sail in towards the shallows. He knew that if they managed to reach deep enough the frigate would be hard pressed to navigate its way through the shallow water. "Get this ship moving fater!" He ordered jumping down. The vessel he was pursuing had abandoned some of its supplies. "Ready the guns for a volley on my orders, what do we have aboard thats expendable?" He asked Jurgen as his first mate came running up.

"Nothing of weight captain."

"Good." Weldheimer said as the Black Lightning moved closer to the ship. This running only served to make him curious, why would a vessel run at the mere sight of his ship? Surely he hadnt become that great of a menace. Weldheimer made a mental note to stay more low key from now on. He ran to the main mast and began to climb for the crosnest. He wanted to raise his standard (http://tinypic.com/view.php?pic=6evvhht)and await the reaction by the ship he was following.

~ Ciro saw the flag fly above the the frigate, but could not exactly tell who it belonged too. In fact, the sight of no standard was what set him running: pirate vessels were notorious for either flying no colors or falso colors. It seemed that the only way to tell who someone was on the waters was to be right alongside them, and Ciro Marinaio wasn't in a rush to do that against this ship.

" Sir!" came a call from the port of the mid-ship, " Sir, I recognize those colors! It's the Black Lightning! I came across it off of Gibraltar, we don't stand a chance if she unloads her guns!"

" Then lets not let them!" Ciro shot back. " Dump absolutely everything except the loot, weapons, and ammo! We're almost to San Juan, all we have to do is lose them in the shallows!"

So, Ciro thought as he saw the flag, he's resorted to the Pirate trick of trying to make us surrender through his reputation? I can do the same ...

" Sailors! Hoist the colors!"

Several " Ayes!" shot up from the crew, and the white flag of Genoa rose above the Furia Giusta

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6e/Genova-Stemma.png

Heading towards the farthest stern, Ciro drew his Damascus steel Cutlass, waving it in the air as he shouted back at the Black Lightning, his voice echoing over the water,

" Turn from this ship! The Furia Giusta will not be taken, not whilst Il Italiano commands her! Turn, before your ship is gutted on the shoals of this channel!"~

Weldheimer noticed the flag. He had seen it off Gibralter before. Then he heard the man on the back shouting. Obviously this ship was carrying something of great value, it was dumping all its cargo into the water. Weldheimer decided that to give more pursuit would be useless. The small ship couldnt carry anything else beside ammuntion and weapons. The shouting ended and he still stood in the crowsnest. He yelled back to Il Italiano "If that is so true than why do you run? Surely if you are so mighty you would stand and fight?" From his vantage point Weldheimer could see the entire other vessels deck. He looke dit over with his telescope, one individual caught his eye as he went about the ship frantically. That lad looks far to young to be a pirate, and he surly doesnt have the build for such a job. He thought. He watched the crewman for a minute and moved on to observe what he could.

~ The Black Lightning began to slow, and then, eventually turned. They had given up the chase, and Ciro's ship was safe, for now at least. He would not be spurred to battle by the taunting its captain had given him either: he knew well enough that had he chosen to fight, he would have died, along with his men. A brig stood no chance against a frigate, and that was just common knowledge.

Sheathing his blade, Ciro returned to the helm to begin navigating the shallows. So far, Sabine had proven her worth, calling out directions flawlessly, and the helmsman obeyed her as if it were Ciro himself giving the orders. Looks like the crew's taken to her ...

Striding to the front of the ship, Captain Marinaio stood next to Sabine, who, when she noticed he was there, snapped a quick salute.

" We're almost through the shoals, sir! We'll be home free after the ship finishes this turn!"

Ciro dismissed her with a wave, like before, only this time instead of dismissal on his face, he wore a smile.

" Sabine, this is not a Royal Navy vessel: we're privateers. This is about as close as you get to a Pirate vessel, so there's no need for formalities. Okay?"

Sabine Ciel was somewhat taken aback by Marinaio's laid back appearance: so far, she had thought he was like every other French captain she had met. The image she had worked up in her mind was a man of unquestioning authority, who used force to ensure his command. In front of her, however, was a man who could actually display reassurance, compassion, and laughter. It was ... different. Almost a kind of culture shock. She didn't mind though, in fact, she kind of liked the way Ciro was. He was almost the epitome of the adventurous rogue: daring the seas, taking on fierce enemies, it was like the tales her father used to tell her.

She turned back towards the sea as the Furia Giusta pulled hard to starboard, angling the ship along the Northern coast of Puerto Rico, in the direction of San Juan. The sea wind whipped at her hair, a feeling she felt at home with, and she ran a hair fleetingly through it as Ciro walked away. He stopped, took one last look at her, and then made his way below.

I hope they didn't throw too much overboard, or we may not be able to afford food ...~

Weldheimer came down from the mast. "gather as many of those supplies as you can. Then steer us ti the harbor, im sure they will be glad to pay double for these supplies." Weldheimer said before entering his cabin. Like the rest of the ship his cabin was spick and span, the vessel was cleaner than most other pirate ships and he prided himself in the fact. It wasnt a Royal Navy equivalent, but it beat the smelly and dark cabins of most others. He sat in his chair and began to write of the days evets in his log. Of all his possesions this log,this ship, and the small medallion he wore about his neck were the most valuable things he owned. He hoped the crew would make a good profit off these supplies. If not, then they would have to work harder for it.

San Juan, Puerto Rico

~ The ransom and stolen goods from Petit Goave paid well in a Spanish port: in fact, the various merchants and even the governor himself gave Ciro quite a profit from the plundered valuables.

Soon, with the money he made, he was able to buy back all the supplies that he had ordered to be thrown to the water when he ran through the Puerto Rican channel. Afterwards, he made his way back to the ship, where Sabine had been patiently waiting.

" Not much for the land?" Ciro asked warm-heartedly.

" No, it's not that, I just want to be ready to cast off when the time comes," she replied quickly.

Ciro Marinaio shook his head. " The crew is in town, the ship must still be restocked: we're going nowhere until at least tomorrow. So, come down, enjoy the town, okay?"

Sabine thought about it for a minute, and then nodded and jogged down the gangplank.

" So, where to first?"~

HMS Achilles. A fourth-rate ship of the line, unusually tasked with a spot of privateering of the larger merchant ships and general protection of British interests in the region. Moored in the British Virgin Islands, she would be heading for shipping lanes to intercept the Spanish and the French.

Her captain, Archibald Callaway, a man born with silver spoon in his mouth, was at the helm.

"Mister Mason, begin preparations to depart."
"Aye Sir."

After some minutes, the Achilles opened her sails and made for the open seas. Cutting gracefully through the waves, she made off at 17 knots, destined for the shipping lanes, and, inevitably, the enemy

As the Scarlet Rose sailed away from its priate port the the caymen islands, it sailed out into open see looking for merchant ships to prey on, even if armed as they wouldnt be ready for them.

They knew the world was getting smaller each day, So Bigtig had been thinking about turning towards some gun running or something that would get him enough money for a bigger ship so maybe his men can go raid a small town for treasures.

"Tig, look" Bigtig looks at small island with a ship that has run aground, "Well what are ye waiting for, lets go you poor excuse for a crew"

his men ran to their stations and made sail towards the ship.

San Juan, Puerto Rico

~ Sabine and Ciro decided to start their journey through town at the tavern, seeing as information on the shipping lanes, recent pirate and national attacks, and good trades in cities could be found there.

Upon entering, Ciro realized just how thirsty he was. His parched throat felt sandy and raw when he gulped: he needed some type of grog in order to get by for the rest of the day. He asked Sabine to wait at the other end of the counter as he grabbed a drink.

After a few minutes, Ciro Marinaio was happily finishing off the rest of his drink: something new from Port Royale called " Devil's Punch," apparently. It was a mixture of rum, brandy, port, sherry, and lots of sugar. It definately had a bit of a kick to it, but it was so sweet it was as if he had bit down on a sugar cane. Tipping a gold coin the barkeeps way, he spied around for Sabine, only to see her slowly stepping back into a corner as a man in a plumed hat advanced slowly towards her.

Walking over and eyeing up the situation, Ciro knew he had to step in. When he was standing next to the man, he tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Sabine's "friend" towered over Ciro, and his insignia on his shoulder marked him as a Captain of the Guard.

" What do ye want, boy?" the captain sneered at Ciro. His breath reeked of one drink too many (Ten drinks is more like it ...), and his vicious snarl showed that he obviously didn't take to Ciro's intrusion. Straightening himself, Ciro looked first at Sabine, who bore a worrisome face, and then back to the captain.

" What seems to be the problem here, sir?"

" Nothin' of yer own business. Me and the lady here were just gettin' ... familiar," his face turned from a snarl to one of the most hideous smiles Captain Marinaio had ever seen.

Sabine shook her head back and forth. " Ciro, please stop him ..."

The captain brought his hand back, as if to hit the young Frenchwoman, when suddenyl the guardsman found himself on the floor, Ciro standing over him.

" I would have thought a man who bore such a title as yourself would learn at least something about respect."

Growling, the captain stood quickly, drawing his rapier.

" Ye'll pay for them words, knave!" he scowled as he thrusted the weapon towards Ciro's chest. Sabine shut her eyes, praying that the Italian Captain would not die in front of her, and was shocked to her the distinctive ping of metal on metal.

In a flash, Ciro's hand had shot towards his cutlass' handle, and he had drawn the blade just enough to block the otherwise fatal blow. What had started as a dispute was now a full-fledged duel, as the Captain of the Guard attempted attack after attack, only the have them thrown away with ease by Ciro's sword. Sabine had run from the corner, and others were making well to stay out of the way too.

Ciro had begun to push the captain back, using broad strikes to get him to spread his defenses, and then, just as the evil Spaniard tried to plunge the tip of his rapier into Ciro again, the young Captain spun so that the sword's point passed just behind him. He turned half-way around, swinging down on the rapier. The blow was so fierce that it lodged the weapon into the wooden floors of the tavern, and, as the Captain of the Guard tried desperately to pull it out, Ciro Marinaio delivered a swift kick to his chest, sending him sprawling backwards. As he reached the crowd that had gathered around the two, he fell into Sabine, he drew her dagger and struck him on the back of the head with its pommel.

The Spaniard was knocked out cold from the blow, and the barkeep and a few other sailors quickly grabbed his body and threw it into the streets outside the tavern. As for Ciro and Sabine, they too disappeared using a backdoor, lest the rest of the Captain's men come to find out what the commotion was about.

Once they were a safe enough distance away, Sabine stopped running, trying to catch her breath.

" You ... you saved me," she gasped, almost in shock as the events came flooding back to her.

" Think ... think nothing ... of it," Ciro panted, bent over with his hands resting on his knees. Finally, after awhile, he stood again, and motioned for her to follow. " I believe the governor still owes me a favor or two here; He could let us stay at his home for the night, and most likely get us out of trouble for our little 'incident' back there."

Sabine smiled, nodded, and stepped in line behind Ciro as he made his way through the winding city streets. All the while, she wondered why this man was constantly risking his life for her. He's so different from anyone else I've ever met ...~

Weldheimer left the port and headed for the west. His goal was San Juan. From there he didnt know. It all depended on what was going to happen when he arrived, and if on the way some unluckly merchant ships got in the way he would make a hefty prfit off them.

OOC:Pretty much trying to run into another character...

San Juan, Puerto Rico

~ The governor's house was rather a pleasant place to stay, but apparently, it had its cost. Ciro had been given a mission by the governor: a diplomatic mission to Port Royale, an English colony in Jamaica.

Still, the Furia Giusta was stocked and ready to sail, Ciro's crew and Sabine were aboard, the weather was fair, and the wind was even heading West: it was a perfect day for such a journey.

Within a few more hours, the ship was finally in the blue waters of the Caribbean, deciding to head around the Northern half of Hispaniola and head in between Cuba and Hispaniola in order to reach Jamaica. Unfortunately for Ciro Marinaio, this put him rather close to a few French ports, most notably Tortuga. Hopefully, his journey would remain rather incognito ...~