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Post by Ladorak on Jun 19, 2011 13:12:16 GMT -5
Caden lowered his paws from his ears, and looked over in Carrow's direction. Though shaken up, the marten found it strangely exhilarating, and the albino offered a smile to the mouse, blinking his eyes a few times. Fortunately, he'd shielded them, or else he might have been outright blinded due to his photo sensitivity.
The gun was chocked, and the Gun Captain hooked the train tackle onto the ring on the back of the gun carriage, arresting any further forward movement. It rolled a little until the line went taut, and then rolled no more. Selvis could now pick up his pawspike and keep it with him till next time. "SERVE YOUR VENT!" was the next order, and the Gun Captain accordingly placed his thumb into the holster over the vent, and plugged the opening.
"SPONGE!" Ocean immediately went for the sponge, dunking it down into the bucket of water to get it nice and wet, and then held it out for Carrow to take. The ermine smiled briefly at the mouse, holding the long rod with the wet cloth on the end of it horizontally, to make it easier for the mouse to take. Already the air in here was getting warmer after the first discharge, and it would get a lot hotter before long. Fortunately, the casks of drinking water were set up amidships as usual, to provide the crew with relief and keep them from passing out.
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Post by Carrow on Jun 19, 2011 15:47:22 GMT -5
Carrow was shaken up as well, a little more than he was admittedly letting on, but nothing too serious... nothing like the first time. The mouse was quite thankful for this. He seemed to be settling into things rather well. Even Caden was pawdling the extra responsibility like it was nothing. It seemed extremely ironic, therefore, that a creature who was as normally as composed as Selvis Frenata seemed to be extremely frustrated and on edge. The rodent was no expert in reading body language, but even he could see that all was clearly not well with his weasel companion.
It was certainly an exhilarating experience for Selvis too, but this time around the exhilaration had been offset considerably by his inner turmoil. He went forward to retrieve his pawspike, and it appeared that the long-tailed mustelid was carrying the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. When he turned and took up his position again he looked dejected. Selvis had always been eager in training, and had been as cool as a cucumber the previous October. Whatever it was that was bothering him had knocked him off-balance something terrible, at least in Carrow's estimation.
While he was concerned for his friend, the field mouse had other things to be mindful of as well, so he strained his ears to catch the next order. The vent was being served now, which meant that the rodent would be up next. He was looking forward to it now. Well, in truth, he had been last time out as well, but this anticipation had been almost entirely consumed by anxiety and fear. Things seemed doubly ironic to Carrow now as it seemed that his and Selvis's situations had been entirely reversed for this conflict. Carrow still wanted to induce Caden, but something told him he might need to try and help Selvis sometime too.
When it was his turn to carry out orders, Carrow was ready almost right away. He had been holding out his paw, knowing that Ocean would be pawing him the sponge at any moment, so when the ermine presented it to him, (holding it horizontally, the mouse noticed, and trying to make things easier for him, something he appreciated quite a lot) he took it from the mustelid straight away, spotting that it was already quite wet. The mouse was lucky his paws weren't sweating - either from uncomfortable heat or worry - but he still didn't leave anything to chance, getting a good grip on the rod.
The stripling had also noticed that things were starting to heat up, both literally and figuratively. He'd hardly had anything to drink at breakfast, only a few sips of his weasel friend's coffee to help perk him up, and he was starting to realise he was a tad thirsty. The rodent resolved to go and slake his thirst at the first available opportunity. He had to do his duty first, of course. Selvis, who wasn't in need of water just yet, noticed the ease with which Carrow slid the sponge into the muzzle and began wiping it down. He's definitely gotten a pawdle on things. Maybe if somebeast compliments him he'll start being modest instead of self-deprecating, the weasel thought with the briefest flicker of a smile.
The mouse did a thorough job, as per requirements, licking his lips every so often, yet knowing he'd be free to visit the water casks sooner rather than later. He spent a few more seconds wiping down the inside of the weapon, just for good measure, before ceasing his activity and pawing the sponge back to Ocean. He was feeling good about his prospects in this battle, and his head was far clearer than he had expected. He nodded at Caden, before doing the same with Selvis. The longtail returned his companion's nod with another smile, genuinely happy to see how good a start he'd gotten off to.
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Post by Ladorak on Jun 20, 2011 9:50:46 GMT -5
Ocean set the sponge back down, and immediately grasped hold of the rammer, as he knew what was coming next. "LOAD WITH CARTRIDGE!" was the next command, and the powder carrier stepped forward with the salt box, opening it up for Ladorak to take the nine pound canvas sack from.
Pawdling it with great care, the shirtless stoat shoved the white cylinder into the mouth of the barrel, his paws glistening with some salt flecks that had been transferred from the cartridge to his fur. He then reached for a wad from his Assistant Loader. Pushing the sack in as best he could, the stoat then pressed the wad in on top of it, and stepped back for Carrow to ram them home into the gun's chamber.
Ocean was holding Carrow's rammer out to him when the side of the Northumberland erupted, the Rosferian vessel delivering its own broadside in response to the one that the Welkinites had sent their way. It was with some satisfaction that Ladorak now knew that the Rosferians fired slower. The Patriote was strangely silent. Ladorak and the crew couldn't possibly know this, but that particular Rosferian 74 was suffering from a severe case of contagion, and the disease had spread to most of its crew, rendering the majority of them incapable of working the guns, and even now they were struggling to get away from their opponent, the Valiant. Nevertheless, the broadside that came from Northumberland was still impressive.
Caden had turned around, heading for the water cask, when he felt the ship shudder. The masts in particular were the target of the Rosferians, as per their usual method of firing high. The albino could hear the sickening soud of wood shattering somewhere above him however, and he knew that an errant shot must have struck the hull.
It would mean casualties, but fortunately for them, the casualties would be on the upper gun deck. Caden looked behind him over his shoulder, making sure their gun deck hadn't taken a hit, but from what he could see, it seemed OK. There weren't any gaping or jagged holes in his line of sight.
Sighing in relief, he now knew just where he'd be aiming next time. Screw this, thought. They can fire at our masts all they want. We're the lower gun deck. We should be targeting their hull to kill or disable as many of them as we can, and to knock out their batteries. I'm NOT having my crew die under me! Better we kill them than they kill us! Let the upper gun deck take care of their masts.
The white furred, red eyed marten had just lit a fire within himself, and he was determined to see this through. They would be heading closer to their opponent, and though they probably wouldn't be cutting through the line, Caden hoped that Duckworth would engage closely nonetheless. He wanted to batter the hull of that 74, and turn it into swiss cheese. It was the only way to keep his own crew safe.
Dipping the metallic cup into the basin of water from the chain it hung on, the thirsty marten Midshipjack took a drink, and then jogged back over to his battery. Time to get back to work... and with a purpose now too!
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Post by Carrow on Jun 20, 2011 11:16:26 GMT -5
Carrow tensed a little when he saw Ocean pick up the rammer. The mouse knew he couldn't relax just yet. He still had a bit more to do before he took any manner of time-out, of course. For now, the field mouse kept his eyes on Ladorak, whom he could see was being given the powder cartridge by its carrier. He still remembered the first time they'd run through this last August, with Spender injuring Caden while he was in that same role.
The mouse hadn't forgotten about that, and whilst it was still there in his mind, he couldn't properly forgive Spender for it... but then again, even if Caden had made his peace with it, the mouse still saw it as an unforgivable act. Spender had been given one hell of a punishment for stepping out of line on that particular day. Carrow remembered being pleased about those consequences - not because it was Spender in particular who had been punished, but because he liked to see justice done for others... because it sure as hell hadn't been for him, all those years ago...
Ladorak had now taken up the sack, and was pushing in the cartridge. He did the same thing with the wad, and then it was up to Carrow to ram them both home. The rodent did so with a good deal more strength than he had done that first time, last July.
Most of the time, the rodent didn't *feel* stronger, but he was reminded of how much he had apparently come on at times like these. He was still by far the weakest creature out of his fellow crewbeasts. He gave the ramming motion everything he had, and then stepped back, a satisfied smile on his face. He knew he'd be tired when all this was done, but at least he was no longer walking around with his energy completely sapped anymore.
The constant exhaustion he'd felt for the majority of his first year had lifted at this point, and the times when he had been almost entirely unable to function due to weariness were a distant memory... all save one: the time when Spender had caused the rodent to have an emotional breakdown the previous May. You just didn't forget things like those no matter how much you wanted to. Carrow knew. He wanted all those bad memories to fade into nothingness, but knew they would not, at least not for a while yet, even though he'd come to terms with them.
His wounds had begun to heal, but both the physical and mental scars would last forever. Whether they faded or not remained to be seen. The mouse had decided that the next time he saw Selvis in action would be when he chose to take a drink.
The rodent felt the ship shudder and was knocked off balance again. He had to try particularly hard to stay upright this time, but soon he was standing again, his heart beating like a triphammer in his chest. A quick glance around confirmed that the lower gun deck had not been the target of the Rosferian shot. His sharp ears could detect wood splintering above him, though. Casualties on the upper gun deck, most likely, he thought, as he let himself settle a moment, the rammer remaining in his paw as he knew what he had to do next.
Carrow wasn't left trembling by the impact of the hit. Selvis was. Even though the weasel had been trying hard to hold it together, he was still nervous and considerably agitated. The mustelid tried to get his shaking under control, watching Caden leave to get a drink.
He was reminded of how thirsty he was becoming, but could hold out for a little while yet. He was suffering from a terrible case of nerves, and it was no wonder, considering everything he was going through. He was exhilarated, however, and paradoxically this exhilaration helped him calm down. This was far more thrilling than the first battle had been. He saw Caden return, and noted the purposeful look on the marten's face, something which made him smile. Aha, the longtail thought, our Midshipjack has got plans.
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Post by Ladorak on Jun 20, 2011 22:50:55 GMT -5
Caden had plans alright. Save the lives of his crew by disabling their guns and crippling their gun crews. Take as many of them out as he could. Screw the masts. The fire from the Queen and the upper gun deck batteries could take care of those. He wondered why the Patriote didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight though. If anything, it looked like she was pulling out of the line, allowing the Valiant in. Strange... and he just didn't see the Rosferians as cowards, considering how the Northumberland was fighting after all.
The Gun Captain drove his priming wire into the vent, and felt the bag give way under his motion. Withdrawing the wire, he nodded and called out "Home!" to indicate the rammer had done his job, and that there was no need for further ramming. The cartridge had been rammed home.
"SHOT AND WAD YOUR GUN!" Ladorak received the 24 pound shot in his cupped paws, his rather finely toned arms able to pawdle the load without too much issue. He rolled the ball into the barrel, and kept his left paw over the gun's mouth. He got the wad from this Assistant Loader, and promptly shoved that in on top of the solid shot.
"Take it away, Carrow!" he called over to the Sponger mouse, as once more, ramming was needed to push that shot right up against the cartridge.
Caden rubbed his paws in anticipation. Oh yes... they'd be aiming right for his target with this next blast. No more delaying. He was going to lay right into them. Being to windward of their opponents was nice as well, as it meant the smoke was blowing towards the Rosferians, and away from the Welkinite ships. That soon wouldn't matter, as they'd be close enough where it would simply engulf both vessels before moving on, but for now, it was a nice reprieve.
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Post by Carrow on Jun 21, 2011 12:56:51 GMT -5
Carrow smiled broadly when the Gun Captain confirmed that he'd done his job properly. Now that he wasn't being racked by nerves, the mouse could feel excitement tingling within him, starting from the tips of his claws and going right up to his whiskers. He was starting to realise how efficient a team he, Ladorak, Selvis and the weasel's zorilla companion were making.
Now it seemed as though the longtail was the most nervous creature in the group. This spoke volumes about how much the normally easy-going mustelid was fretting. The mouse could tell that Selvis was suffering, though he had no idea why. It wasn't like him at all... and he was doing all he could to hold it in, that was plain to see.
Selvis bolted as soon as the next command was given, pawing his throat. His thirst needed to be quenched immediately, because he wouldn't get another chance until after the cannon hid fired again, and when you were thirsty, every minute counted, particularly in a sweltering situation the likes of this one. He ran back amidships to the drinking casks, slowing his pace a little once he neared them. Selvis knew he didn't have much time, much less than he would need to get his head together.
The weasel was an emotional wreck and had already broken down in front of Caden, but he promised himself, as he dipped the cup and drained it in a single movement, that he'd wait until the action was over before deciding what he would do next. He reckoned he needed time alone with his own thoughts so he could start sorting himself out first. He needed to take stock of how things were, and nothing else would be rectified if the mustelid completely went to pieces now after all.
His rodent companion, meanwhile, had stood poised with his rammer. He'd caught Caden's gesture and his natural curiosity made him wonder just what the pine marten was up to. Then he was given the go-ahead by Ladorak, and he moved swiftly to complete the task, ramming the shot and wad home with a few relatively powerful thrusts.
His heart rate had returned to something that would be considered normal under the circumstances in which he now found himself, and he stepped back, pawing the rammer back to his ermine Assistant Sponger, smiling at Ocean in a content fashion. It seemed the mouse was quite suited to teamwork when he wasn't having panic attacks or letting his nerves get the better of him.
Selvis returned to his position to see Carrow was finished. He turned, smiling at the rather thoughtful-looking Caden as he settled again, knowing he'd be back in action soon. All this was giving him just the kind of release he was in desperate need of.
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Post by Ladorak on Jun 22, 2011 9:26:57 GMT -5
Ocean gave the mouse a smug smirk, and placed the rammer back down on the deck. They were drawing closer now, the hull of the Northumberland seeming to "grow" in size, though she was still in range of the Queen's guns as well, and that would help matters. A 74's battery and part of a 98's battery were certainly powerful forces against only a single 74. The Northumberland would probably range on ahead and get away from the Queen at some point, especially since the latter had lost her mizzentopmast in combat on the 29th, and wouldn't be able to maintain the same speeds that the former could put out, but Orion could definitely stay with her.
"RUN OUT YOUR GUN!" the auxiliaries waited for the Gun Captain to unhook the train tackle, and Caden ran over to pick it up and move it back out of the way. The less things that were underpaw, the better, at least the way the albino saw it.
With a great creaking and groaning, the wooden gun carriage was laboriously rolled forward as the auxiliaries tugged and heaved on the lines, wrestling the four ton weapon towards the gun port. This time, the beasts on the right out muscled those on the left, and the gun came out a little more to the rigtht this time before it bumped up against the hull.
"POINT YOUR GUN!"
"OK... here's what we're going to do!" Caden spoke up so that all four gun crews could hear him. "The first two guns need to adjust their aim so it's more centered, as does this one." he motioned to the one his friends were on. "Shift this one to the left a bit. After that, depress the barrel, as we're going to be aiming right for their hull! I aim to do as much damage to them as I can, so let's get on with this! We'll preserve ourselves better this way, and it's time to lay into them! So adjust to the left, and then depress the barrel until we get about a ten to twenty degree elevation. I'd say twenty is preferable." the only reason it'd be slightly elevated at all would be account for the distance between the ships. It still needed a tad bit of an arc on it in order to reach the blood red hull of the Rosferian ship.
This was Selvis's cue, now. He'd need to shove the gun's breech to the right in order to move the barrel left, and then once again lift up the breech so that the Gun Captain could push the quoin a bit further back in.
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Post by Carrow on Jun 22, 2011 10:27:30 GMT -5
Carrow could see the hull of the enemy vessel seeming to grow in size now as their ship continued in its approach. He watched as Ocean placed the rammer back down on deck, and took that as his cue to go and quench his thirst. The mouse started heading back amidships as he heard the next command being given, knowing he could relatively take his time now because he wouldn't be needed until this round had been completed and the Northumberland had been fired on. It certainly seemed as though that particular ship was the Orion's target.
All the same, though, he really did want to get back to his post in time to see their shot being launched, so he picked up the pace a bit, and had soon reached the water casks. The rodent thought a little about how he had done so far. When a creature was nervous, they were more prone to rushing things and making mistakes, but that hadn't happened to him thus far. Sure, he'd gotten a bit of a fright when he'd seen all those guns go off the first time, but knew that his reaction would diminish the more he saw them fire.
His throat felt parched, so he dipped the metal cup into the drinking water and threw it back, before repeating the process for good measure. He reckoned that that would give him a few minutes' reprieve when he got back. Every bit of time he could take for himself would help. The field mouse was unable to keep his thoughts from turning to Tally for a moment. If only she could see me now, he thought. I wonder what she'd think? He was determined to see this whole thing through, for Caden and Selvis, for Elle (though he knew he might not see her when he got back, as she tended to be rather busy), for Archie, and now for Tally as well. His thirst was well quenched, so the mouse turned to head back at a slightly more sedate pace.
Selvis had spotted his companion's departure, and had wondered briefly how the rodent had held out for as long as he had. He'd had barely anything to drink at breakfast after all. Breakfast... all that seemed to belong to a different world for the weasel at this point, both because of the combat situation he was now, and how things had changed for him on a more personal level.
The longtail listened closely as his marten Midshipjack friend gave the orders, his eyes sparkling as the albino outlined the plan. Oh, that was a good idea, and no mistake! Twenty degrees, was it? Well, he'd get that, or as close to it as he could manage. "Yes sir! Coming in loud and clear!," he called back to ensure Caden he'd had no trouble understanding him. It was quite loud in there now, but Selvis could better it when he had to.
He turned to his zorilla teammate, whose brown eyes now shone with anticipation and who had their 'crowbar' already in paw. The weasel didn't need to say anything upon spotting this new-found enthusiasm. He simply picked up his own pawspike and inserted it into its slot, glancing left to see the zorilla had done the same. "See what I mean? It gets easier the more times you do it!," he exclaimed, more softly this time. "You're a natural, I just knew it!"
The zorilla merely shrugged modestly. This time, it was the striped mustelid who led the count. "One... two... three!," he called, and that was the signal. Both creatures gripped their spikes and tugged for all they were worth, slowly but steadily moving the breech to the right; just a little, but that was all that their Midshipjack required. When they were satisfied they'd done things right, the pair began levering the breech, keeping a close eye on the level of elevation.
Selvis was looking to get as close to twenty degrees as possible, but the zorilla had a better idea. He spoke to his fellow mustelid as they worked. "Don't worry about it. We'll just do our best with this." They continued with the levering process until the zorilla spoke again. "There! That should probably do it." Selvis raised his right paw to signal that the task had been completed, as Carrow returned, taking up his post again. He smiled when he saw the raised gun, looking out to sea a moment as it began to dawn on him what Caden was planning to do.
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Post by Ladorak on Jun 22, 2011 11:32:43 GMT -5
The Gun Captain once more sighted down the length of the barrel, using the gun sight and the horizon relevant to the ocean to calculate the degree of elevation. The gun needed to be depressed a little, as it was currently at a 45 degree angle. That meant more quoin.
Waiting for the pawspikers to lever up the rear end of the gun, the Captain pushed the quoin forward a little, making a careful note of where he was. "Let it down lads." he instructed, and the pawspikers did so, allowing the breech to rest once more on top of the quoin. Taking the opportunity to again sight along the barrel, the Gun Captain felt confident that they had accomplished this rather well, and waited for the Lieutenant to catch up with orders, as he'd missed "prime" earlier. As the Orion had not been to sea as long as the "Eggs and Bacon" had, it was clear their crew was a little rusty with loading and firing, but they would soon get it back, and it was clear that they could still fire faster than the Rosferian crew could.
"PRIME!" the Lieutenant had gotten the order wrong, but it didn't matter. It was a good thing he had caught himself, and the Gun Captains now broke into the cartridges with the wires, tearing them open for the quills, which were inserted, and the black powder was poured into the flash pan, the lids all snapping shut up and down the gun deck. The Gun Captain now took the lanyard, and backed away and off to the side in order to avoid the recoil of the gun when it went off.
Caden did the same, closing his eyes (as his photo sensitivity could only take so many bright flashes) and plugging his ears. Ladorak turned away from the gun, holding his paws over his ears as well. The auxiliaries got ready to jump back as soon as the order to fire was given, and they were still holding on to the lines for all they were worth in order to ensure that the gun didn't roll backwards before firing and accidentally punch a hole in their own hull.
"FIRE!" the lanyards were pulled back, and once more the world around them shook and trembled as the gun deck erupted, the 24 pounders going off and snapping back, their shots sailing across the sky. The muzzles of the guns belched fire, and the noise would have been deafening without proper protection.
Opening his eyes quickly after he felt the shock from the blasts subside, Ladorak looked out the gun port as best he could, while Selvis would be chocking the wheels of the carriage. The Gun Captain was already making for the train tackle, scooping it up so he could attach it after Selvis had arrested the gun's forward movement.
The effect of their shots were almost immediately discernible. The larboard side of the Northumberland could be seen clearly one moment, replaced by a shower of splinters the next. The splinters flew off of her like violently shedding skin, and Caden knew that they had hit their mark. He cheered upon seeing it, as did Ladorak. They probably hadn't punched through the hull just yet with the majority of their shots, but they were working on it. At least a few of the shots HAD gone through however, as holes could be seen, nice and round and a stark contrast to the square "holes" of the gun ports.
The masts of their opponent were also struck, mostly from the fire from the upper gun deck and the Queen. Northumberland's sails now had a few tattered holes in them from where the shots had passed through, and Caden suddenly felt that fire within him stoked. It was as if no one could quench these flames. This ship would be theirs by the end of the day, or it would sink under the Rosferians! He silently promised himself in that moment then and there that he wouldn't rest until this ship had been captured. They would force this Rosferian ship to strike, and pick up some good prize money for doing so. He wasn't going to personally stop until he saw this through. He had made his vow, and now all that was left was to carry it out.
Ocean was getting the sponge ready for Carrow, picking it up and splashing it down into the water filled bucket at his paws, running the cloth around and dunking it several times to get it wet as the train tackle was reattached. The gun was now immobile, thankfully.
"SERVE YOUR VENT!" came the Lieutenant's orders, and the Gun Captain moved to place his thumb into the holster over the vent, to stopper the vacuum and prevent any sparks from shooting out when Carrow went to sponge down inside of the barrel.
"SPONGE!" was the next bit, and Ocean held out the rod for his shipmate to take.
"So what did you think of that?" he asked, eyes shining a little with the light of the old hunter displaying within. He was still an ermine at heart, and battles like this really got his adrenaline flowing, and his heart racing. He was pumped up and ready to continue this fight to its final result.
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Post by Carrow on Jun 22, 2011 13:03:37 GMT -5
With every order that he accomplished, Selvis should have been able to relax a little more, but that just wasn't happening for the longtail, who was still as tight as a coiled spring. His inner turmoil showed no signs of going away, but the weasel promised that he'd try and keep it from coming to the surface again, as this was neither the time nor place for such things. The weapon was being primed now, a little later than normal, but the Lieutenant had now caught up with things.
Selvis was preparing himself for the moment when the gun would fire and he could see whether Caden's move had paid off. So too was Carrow. The mouse had begun to back off so as to not be in the way of the recoiling gun, and this time he decided to close his eyes. The rodent didn't suffer from photosensitivity, not like Caden did, but his reaction to the earlier blast had left him feeling uncomfortable, so this time around it was a case of 'better safe than sorry'. Selvis remained where he was as he'd be trying to chock the gun as it rolled back.Both mouse and weasel soon had their eyes closed and ears plugged, waiting for the command to be given.
Soon, the Lieutanant barked out "FIRE!" and the response was immediate. Even though the sound was slightly muffled, it was still awe-inspiringly loud due to the amount of guns going off at the same time. Carrow felt his legs trembling again, but managed to remain upright. This time Selvis had a little more difficulty staying on his paws, and the longtail swayed slightly before successfully righting himself.
As soon as the reverberations of the shots had begun to fade, the Ferlusanian weasel spotted the gun carriage as it was shot back towards him. He was well aware of the risks that his job carried, but they didn't bother him too much. He shot forward, having retrieved his pawspike from earlier, and threw it under the wheels of the carriage (something he was becoming ever more confident with doing) and smiled as it stalled. The way was now clear for the train tackle to be reattached.
Taking a few steps back, Selvis surveyed the damage that had been done, a sight that had left Carrow standing transfixed, in open-mouthed wonder. The mouse had received a reminder of the true destructive force of those 24-pound shots. Both creatures could see that Caden's efforts had paid off, but Carrow was considerably more impressed than Selvis was - or at least, Selvis wasn't giving much away. The mustelid was smiling, though, so was obviously pleased with how well Caden's plan had worked.
As the Lieutenant gave the next orders, Selvis retrieved his pawspike from beneath the wheels of the now-immobile gun, returning it to its proper place. He decided that there would be no better time for him to have another drink. The heat was intensifying further, albeit gradually, and it was having an effect on the weasel who was suddenly desperate to quench his thirst. He headed back amidships, still smiling. Things were going well.
Carrow, meanwhile, was waiting to come back into play, and soon it was his turn to carry out orders. Turning to Ocean as the ermine spoke, he responded simply: "I've never seen anything quite like that in my life! I'm really starting to enjoy this now!" The field mouse accepted the rod from his ermine Assistant, getting a good hold on it before stepping forward and giving the muzzle a good wiping down.
He was taking to this whole routine like an otter to water, and even in the sweltering heat of battle he was still going to do everything he could. For such a mild-mannered mouse, he felt quite fired-up. He was soon certain he'd done a good enough job, and stepped back, pawing the sponge back to Ocean. "I saw that look in your eyes, just there; do I even need to ask if YOU are enjoying it?," he asked the mustelid mischievously, eyes sparkling.
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