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Post by Ladorak on Oct 3, 2010 14:42:19 GMT -5
Night always brought an inky darkness that closed in around a ship. All lights were generally extinguished after midnight, save for a few at the stern. The officer of the watch was the fifth Lieutenant, having taken his station around midnight, once the Middle Watch began. Half the crew were on duty, but the other half, including Spender, Caden, Carrow, Ocean, Willard and Elliot, were down below asleep.
They swayed silently (or noisily in some cases, depending on if they snored) in their hammocks, the rocking of the ship pushing them first one way, and then the next. They had gone to sleep about two hours ago, once their watch had ended at midnight, and the Middle Watch had begun. They were on the short sleeping starboard watch today, and would get only four hours of sleep, rising at 4 AM for the Morning Watch to clean the ship and start the day. It was now about 2 AM...2 AM on the morning of October 22nd, 1793.
By the Master's last calculations, the ship was northwest of the island of Sardinia, part of the Calgary Alliance. They were making good time south, heading to Cagliari, capital of Sardinia, for a rendezvous with Commodore Robert Linzee's small fleet, which was about to undertake a diplomatic mission to the Barbary States. Their mission to Naples had been a success. With a subsidy from the Welkin government, and Ladorak's smooth diplomacy, Naples had promised 4,000 troops to the defense of Toulon. The Agamemnon had returned to the captured port for but two days before being given a new assignment.
Word had been circulating that the Bey of Tunis was lending support to the Rosferian Navy, and allowing them the use of his port facilities and dockyards for repairs and supplies. It was illegal by the rules of war...as neutrals could trade, but could not shelter or harbor a belligerent vessel. The Barbary coast was a wild land, filled with feral creatures ruled by passion and desire and worshiping pagan gods. They were on the very diplomatic fringe with the continent, and owed much of their unity to the Eastern Hordes. They were weaker than the industrialized nations on the continent however, and could easily be coerced into cooperating....provided tributes were paid or bombardments were carried out, whichever method a nation figured to be more effective.
Agamemnon had been charged with delivering these orders to Linzee himself, and then to attach itself to his squadron.
As it was, Ladorak Fugate was restless tonight. It was one of his sleepless nights, and the stoat was pacing the quarterdeck anxiously, paws clasped behind his back as he gazed up at the stars. He couldn't shake the energy that had infringed upon him like burning fire. It was stoked by his adventuresome nature, and some nights he simply found it impossible to lay down in his suspended cot and drift off to sleep. Tonight was one such night.
The hour glass was tipped over by the Quartermaster at the wheel, and the next hour began to count down...the hour of two. Two in the morning. Nothing but them and the dark sea. The sea never slept either, and Ladorak wandered over to the gunwale to look down at her glassy, agitated surface as it glided smoothly by below them.
"SAILS! SAILS OFF THE STARBOARD QUARTER...AND STARBOARD BOW!" The stoat jerked his head in the direction of the lookouts, two on the forecastle, two in the waist, and the one that had shouted from the poop. Ladorak moved rapidly, yanking out a brass spyglass as if it were a sword, and extended it with a jerk of his paw. Raising it to his spectacles, the stoat rapidly scanned and swiveled out to starboard, pointing the long glass like a gun.
Nothing at first...and then..."Frigates..." he murmured, catching sight of dark shapes moving far off their weather side. There was one large one...perhaps a 40 gunner...off their bow...and three slightly smaller ones off their quarter. "Well hullo...what have we here?" the molting stoat (for his brown was turning quite dull, disappearing into some places in that "salt and pepper" pattern common in his species around this time of year) muttered. The chill of the night air was distinct, and he pulled his coat around him even tighter, shivering a bit as he lowered the glass. "Four frigates...but hard to tell what nationality. They aren't ours...we have none off Sardinia, and Linzee's ships are all 64 or 74 gunners...so who are they?" he asked to no one in particular as the fifth Lieutenant bounded up to him on all fours before rising to standing.
He quickly calculated the speed of the strangers, as well as their own course and heading, running it through mentally to judge time and speed. "Right...OK...at their present speed and our present speed...I reckon we could pull within range of that fellow at the head within...two hours...blast...not much time." he bit his lower lip, looking at his Lieutenant.
"We don't even know who they are sir...what if they're Neapolitans?"
"Right...they might be...MIGHT be...but...more likely than not they're Rosferians...it's not likely the Neapolitans would be cruising in these waters, and I'm not willing to risk it. Not with only a two hour gap. Clear for Action." the stoat ordered, giving a terse nod.
"Aye Sir. CLEAR FOR ACTION!" the fifth Lieutenant shouted, and the crew on watch immediately leaped into motion. The Boatswain was roused, as were his Mates, who promptly went about the lower gun deck, shouting at the top of their lungs to wake the sleeping crew.
"ALL CREW UP AND STOW HAMMOCKS! ALL CREW UP AND STOW HAMMOCKS! CLEAR FOR ACTION! CLEAR FOR ACTION!" They had rehearsed this plenty of times. The crew knew what to do under any situation...except this time, it wasn't a drill. The first step was to get the hammocks down, roll them up, and bring them up to their allotted slots in the netting on the gunwales, to serves as breastworks in battle. In addition, the crew would have to cover them with a wet layer of canvas, to prevent the vulnerable cloth from catching fire.
"CLEAR FOR ACTION! CLEAR FOR ACTION! ALL CREW UP AND STOW HAMMOCKS!" Caden groaned.
"Uggggggh....!" he mumbled something incoherent, tossing in his bedding as he slowly pried his eyes open. What...WHAT?! He sat bolt upright, coming awake at once. What time was it? Still night? It was dark as sin on the gun deck, and his eyes had not yet adjusted as he rolled out of bed onto the deck, shaking his head to wipe away the fog. Clear for action!? There were enemy ships on the horizon!? Really?! Caden was sleeping in the gun room due to his status as a Volunteer Class I, and thus wasn't out on the crowded gun deck with the rest of the crew, though all about him was a flurry of activity, as the other sleeping Volunteer's (including Ocean and Willard) were rolling out of their own hammocks. The Gunner and the Marine Lieutenants were dashing out of their cabins a little ahead of them, busily throwing on clothes as they headed to their stations.
Quickly fumbling with his ropes, the albino sluggishly managed to unhook his hammock and started to cumbersomely roll it up. OK...OK...how did this go? Over...then through...no! Right...here we go. He was in the process of waking up, having been roused from a rather peaceful sleep. He felt as if he'd only dozed off though, and all of a sudden there was all this shouting, and crew scrambling about.
Stuffing his hammock into the proper rolled position (he hoped, as his eyes still hadn't adjusted yet), the albino rapidly ran forward, towards the companionway. He bumped into some crew beasts a few times, who paid him little mind, as they all began making their way up to the weather deck. Stumbling on the stairs, Caden shook his head, exhaled, and kept going. Don't think...just move.
He tumbled out into the night air, making a beeline for the netting where his hammock's proper slot was. Hefting it up, the albino slid the bulky material into the slot, and stood back, waiting for all the other hammocks to fall into place before he'd assist with the draping of the wet canvas over the nets. He could already see some of the crew that had been on duty toiling their way over with a massive sheet of damp white canvas, which would go over the entire netting once all hammocks were in place.
Caden saw Ocean dump his hammock into its slot with his powerful arms, and the ermine glanced hurriedly about, trying to locate Carrow. He had something very important to discuss with the mouse before combat began...IF combat began. There was a slim chance that those four frigates on the horizon weren't Rosferian...but the odds were long. "Carrow?" he called out, wondering if the mouse might perhaps hear him and head on over.
Caden stood in line, awaiting his orders. Each of the crew would be rapidly divided up by the officers, sent off to perform an assortment of duties to get the ship cleared and ready for combat. Each officer could select only a certain number to assist with his tasks, and thus developed a system whereby every seajack would be employed in readying the ship. "Seajack Fugate! You'll be with me lowering the boats!" the marten jerked his head to the side to see the Coxswain, who was going around and picking up recruits on the spot.
"Aye sir!" Caden shouted, standing at attention by his hammock to wait for the wet canvas to arrive.
"Seajack Sleet! You're with me in dismantling the officers' bulkheads in the stern! My team will also be in charge of moving all furniture down into the holds!" This order came from the eighth Lieutenant, who was normally in charge of musket training when not at quarters.
"Sir!" Ocean saluted, and resumed looking for Carrow. They had some time before they had to hop to their duties...but it was a matter of minutes only.
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Post by bookity101 on Oct 3, 2010 23:36:49 GMT -5
Ellie woke with a start as the call began to ing in the lower decks. For once, she was able to jump straight up from bed. After Naples, and her time with Janey, she had been sleeping deeper, and more peacefully, so the two hours she had gotten felt like it had been much more than that. Hurriedly, she ran through the motions of rolling up her hammock, then dashed down the companionway to hang up her hammock. Stepping back after she hung it in its proper place, she began to cast about, looking for anyone she knew so she could get her bearings.
"Caden!" The beech martin padded up to her albino friend.. and as she had recently admitted to herself, first crush.
"Do you have any idea whats going on here?"
***********
Luxe jerked awake from his place in the gun room. He was a deep sleeper, and it had taken a few calls for them to penetrate in to his subconscious.
Jumping from his hammock, well rolling more like it... the poor beast was still waking up after all. Hurrying to the gun room, he began to sort through the things that might be needed by the marines. Fighting a yawn, he sat back for a moment, saying to the empty room.
"This is going to be a long night..."
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Post by Carrow on Oct 4, 2010 7:20:16 GMT -5
"CLEAR FOR ACTION! CLEAR FOR ACTION! ALL CREW UP AND STOW HAMMOCKS!" Cerinus Apodemus came to his senses much, much quicker than his pine marten companion did. Once again, the mouse had used his friend's birthday present, a silver pocket watch, to hypnotise himself into a peaceful slumber, as he had been doing every night since being given it as a gift. However, as peaceful as his two hours of rest had been, he had found himself unable to drift deeper into sleep. Almost nine years of piecemeal rest - punctuated every now and then by waking up in a cold sweat after feverish nightmares - had warped the rodent's body clock. A few weeks of self-hypnosis would not change this. A few months, perhaps, would register a slight change.
It was at times like this that he wished fervently that there was a hypnotist on the ship. A creature who knew what they were doing, one he could schedule sessions with, and one who could take him into trances as deep as those Archie had needed to place him under when working on him. It was going to take that much to have any noticeable effect on the stripling's sleeping habits. He was thirteen now - but in his mind he would always be his four-year-old self: terrified of the night. He couldn't close his eyes most of the time, and when he did his rest was often less than, well, restful. Each time he pulled out that watch and began to slowly swing it, staring right into the centre of the spiral that lay behind its cover, he tried to relax, to let go and forget, just drift away into sleep... but it would always be harder than it seemed.
He had no trouble waking up. It was when he had woken up that the mouse's troubles began. This was his worst nightmare - quite literally in fact. Multiple times in the past week, he had woken with a start, moaning softly to himself as he tore himself away from visions of his complete collapse in the middle of a battle. He had seen it all far too clearly. He had heard the cannon fire. He had given his all to aid the ship, but had found it wasn't enough. He had stood helpless as a wave of despair crashed over him. He had felt his confidence slowly seep away... the worm slip from his paws... seen himself sinking slowly to the deck timbers and having a meltdown right there in the heat of battle...
No amount of help could ease the mouse's worries, and no amount of assistance, even from his dearest friends, could inspire him to believe in himself. He heard those words, and his heart started pounding in his chest. This was going to end one of two ways, he knew: he was going to just about manage to hold it together, until it was all over; or he was going to lose it completely. And even if Carrow should survive the conflict, who could say how he would be affected in the aftermath? It was with thoughts like this running through his head that the rodent snapped to it and leaped out of his hammock, before taking it down and rolling it as best he could. Even in the night he could see his paws trembling. Not good. Not good at all.
He soon had the hammock rolled up. Right, what am I to do next?, he thought. Oh yes... get it stowed and cover it with canvas. He'd done his best to get the object to assume the proper position, but he had to get moving. The mouse's back issues had resulted in his tumble back in Calgary having a worse effect on him than expected, but he had been free of pain for almost two weeks at this stage, so he was well able to run once again. And run the mouse did, tearing off up the companionway. He had to trust in his own paws to guide him up to the weather deck, and there were times when, running between (and bumping off) other crewbeasts that he felt he must surely fall, but Carrow managed to stay upright throughout the entire journey.
The stressed creature took the stairs up to the weatherdeck at a rapid pace, some even two at a time, running like his tail was on fire. He sped over to the netting, chest heaving as he tried to take stock of what was going on. He lifted his hammock, though since he was physically inferior to most others on board (mice weren't exactly renowned for their strength after all), it took more effort than it might have from another beast. He stood by his hammock for a moment, doing his best to calm down and stop the hysterical thoughts that possessed him at times like this from controlling everything he said and did. That was when he heard his name being called. He had to strain his ears considerably to hear the speaker over the tumult that was in progress around him, but hear them he did, and he recognised the voice instantly
Ocean? What could he want?, the rodent murmured to himself, as he tried to get a fix on the voice. Soon, though, the ermine ended up drifting into his field of view, which of course made things much easier for the mouse, who was clearly on edge and didn't want to become frustrated in his current condition. Who knew what he'd be driven to then? Desperate times called for desperate measures after all... but he hoped such action didn't come to pass. He made a beeline for the tall stoat, whiskers twitching from a mixture of excitement and pure, unbridled terror. He came skidding to a halt. "Ocean?," he responded, trying fervently to meet his gaze. "What is it?," he called, raising his voice in order to be heard.
--
Selvis Frenata had been sleeping much more soundly than his rodent companion. There was another difference between the two friends: whereas the mouse had been dreading any skirmishes, as soon as Selvis heard the call he broke out into a wide smile, hopping out of his hammock and rolling it up as per the instructions. He had gone over them in his mind again and again, until performing them had become almost second nature. But he knew that there was no drill tonight - that there was a real possibility of some action. He had long since resigned himself to the fact that such a thing was inevitable, but all he could think of as he rolled up his hammock was a particular quote from Shakespeare's 'Hamlet'.
The weasel's copy had of course been in his native Ferlusan, but he knew what it roughly translated to in Welkin: 'If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.' How appropriate that the mustelid should think of such a thing at a time like this. He was full of confidence in his own abilities, though far from headstrong, and he was certain he would do his absolute utmost in this upcoming battle. There was a slight chance of nothing arising from these preparations, he knew, but the suddenness of the order had struck him as slightly strange. They wouldn't call anything like this unless there was a real possibility of conflict.
He set off for the weatherdeck. Normally, he wouldn't have been allowed up there, but Selvis wanted to find his friends more than anything. Even as it was, the weatherdeck was where he would have to store his hammock, so he figured that this wouldn't be a problem. With this in mind, the longtail fairly sped up the companionway, taking the stairs as normal. He knew that the crew would be given a few moments' leeway due to the unexpectedness of the development, but he couldn't afford to delay all that much. He hadn't seen Carrow at all, and he was genuinely concerned about how the mouse would be taking all this. He had never told anybeast of his fear, but all his friends had seen the signs, as clear as day, and now those fears were being realised.
He jogged over to the netting once he had gained the stairs, and slotted his hammock into its allocated slot, standing by it and awaiting further orders. As it happened, he ended up right next to Caden, and this made him smile. He winked at the albino mustelid, his good humour overcoming every other emotion that bubbled up within him. He was soon joined by Elle, and before she could speak, he managed to get a quip in. "Nice night for all this, eh?," he commented ironically, knowing Caden would be able to see past his friend making light of the situation. On the outside, Selvis was chipper and cheerful as per usual, but inside, he was as tight as a coiled spring, just raring to go, obey orders, get about doing something. He'd do his absolute best for the ship, for the crew, his friends and himself. Opportunity knocks but once...
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Post by Ladorak on Oct 4, 2010 9:57:47 GMT -5
The eighth Lieutenant had spotted Elliot almost as soon as "he" had emerged on the weather deck as well, and immediately picked "him" up for duty. "Seajack McNamee, you'll be joining me in dismantling the bulkheads and moving them and the ship's furniture down into the holds!" The fisher Lieutenant patted the young marten on the back, and kept on moving. Elliot would be joining Ocean in that task it seemed.
Caden shook his head, gulping a little, but smiling at Selvis's quip. "Indeed...least it's a clear night. I don't know Elliot...I'm not sure what's going on...I don't...see anything..." the marten spun around, looking out across the dark landscape of the larboard side, not realizing that the potential enemy vessels were over on the starboard side of the ship. As Caden's hammock was stowed on the larboard side, he was naturally looking out there.
"I don't...see....anything..." he repeated before a sudden hiss from behind him yanked his attention over to starboard. There was a white, luminescent light shooting up into the sky, brighter than any star. It soon exploded in a distant roar, crisp white tendrils branching off and drifting lazily down to the ocean. It hadn't looked as if it had gone very high, but Caden knew what it was immediately. "Star shells! Rockets! That was a rocket! There!" he excitedly pointed at four black shapes that were lit up by the firing of the rocket. They drifted on the sea, their billowing white sails showing an almost full spread of canvas as the blackened masses turned into ships, frigates from the look of it.
"Frigates!" the albino exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the white glare of the burning sky rocket. "Agh...blast...I don't...I don't do good with bright lights..." he murmured, clamping his eyes shut as the shell burst became too much. As an albino, Caden had a higher sensitivity to bright lights than did most others, and it was showing now. The rocket wouldn't bother a creature like Selvis or Elliot, but to Caden, it was blinding.
Under the glow of the rocket, the four strange frigates began to tack, or execute a turn with their bows toward the wind. All four of them began to turn towards the east...towards the Agamemnon. Ladorak watched them doing so, making sure to count the number of guns each one showed through is spyglass. "I count...hmm...forty plus thirty-eight plus thirty-six plus...twenty-eight...142 guns altogether...that's more powerful than the largest warship afloat...combined that is. But as it stands...that bigger one...that one's way out in front..." he mumbled to himself. "We could run her down and cut her out before the other three could come up with us...and then...it would be 40 against our 64...more than ample odds...Quartermaster! Adjust heading! 200 degrees! Make for that large frigate out in front of the others! Run her down!" the stoat barked, slapping his glass shut.
"Aye sir!" the Quartermaster replied, and spun the wheel accordingly. They might be outgunned and outnumbered...but Ladorak could ensure that for awhile at least, they could fight just one of those frigates with a superior advantage before her compatriots could concentrate against his own vessel.
Meanwhile, down on the weather deck, the temporary illumination of the scene revealed the officers rushing about, one Midshipjack in particular approaching Carrow. "Seajack...Apodemus was it? You're with my group. We're going to be retrieving the spare tiller and relieving tackles from the hold and getting them ready...just in case the tiller gets shot away." the Mid said, just as Ocean located the mouse.
"Carrow! Glad I found you! I heard you injured your back recently, and I wanted to ask if perhaps I could have your spot in the gun crew in place of you? I could take over Sponger because...well....no offense, but I don't want you staining yourself over this. You could help me out by taking my old Assistant Sponger post, so all we'd really be doing is swapping places. That way, you wouldn't have to worry about accidental strain or something. How's that sound?" Ocean had to admit, he had always seen himself as more capable than a mouse of being Sponger, but he wasn't going to let that part on to the rodent. He saw this as an opportunity to get Carrow into a slightly less stressful spot for his first battle, and possibly "ease" him into this experience.
The ermine patiently waited for Carrow's response as the officers continued to pick up crew beasts for their tasks. The grison Gunner's Mate approached the group gathered around Caden, the albino rubbing his eyes to try and clear the bright bursts of light he kept seeing as the rocket began to burn out in the night sky now.
The grison looked at Selvis, who seemed currently unemployed at the moment. He had seen the eighth Lieutenant get Elliot, and knew the Coxswain had Caden, so that left Selvis. "Seajack Frenata, you'll be with my boys, bringing up extra shot from the hold and laying them out in the shot garlands. We're just waiting on all hammocks to be stowed...shouldn't be more than a few more minutes." the Gunner's Mate commented, as Caden finally managed to scrunch his eyes back open a tad, blinking them a few times to clear them.
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Post by Carrow on Oct 4, 2010 12:33:05 GMT -5
Carrow looked up at the Midshipjack, smiling slightly. "Yes, sir, thank you!," he responded. He really was grateful to be told he was doing something, as it gave the distressed rodent something to focus his mind on, and something to work towards. It would be a while until actual contact, he knew, so at least now he had a little time to get his bearings and make himself useful, both of which he felt would greatly benefit him, especially in his current condition.
After the Mid had informed him of his duties, the mouse turned to Ocean, taking in his proposal in silence. He looked drawn and tired, and of course, very, very nervous, but he tried to get his trembling paws under control. To aid him in this, he made eye contact with the ermine as best he could whilst the older stripling spoke. Once he had finished, Carrow nodded vigourously, unable to keep himself from stammering as he responded to the idea. The words poured out of his mouth, a clear sign that he was under stress that was becoming more intense by the second.
"Oh, th-thank you, Ocean!," he replied, shaking slightly despite himself - and trying fervently to ignore the ermine's off-paw comment about his fragile nature. He wasn't that much of a liability... was he? It was hard not to be nettled by a remark like that, especially when he could hardly help it under these circumstances - the wood mouse hadn't pawdled any kind of weaponry in his life up until a few months ago, after all, so the idea of a *battle* was terrifying to a pacifist like him - but he managed not to show that his fur had been ruffled.
"I must admit that I was a little f-f-frightened of that prospect. I c-couldn't help but think of what w-would happen if I should trip or s-s-stumble during my tasks, e-e-e-especially because of what happened b-back in Calgary last month, so I think this w-works out for me quite well. I'm g-going to be honest for a second, Ocean, and a-a-admit that I think you'd be m-much better suited to this kind of thing th-than a creature like me." A creature like me *in particular*, he thought, his head full of self-deprecation and doubt.
"Th-that sounds fine to me...," he murmured. There was suddenly much less chance of him screwing things up. He had less to do but would still be kept on his paws. There was less chance of mistakes being made, but the stripling wasn't confident in himself anyway. It would take something akin to a miracle to get something like that to start happening, he couldn't deny it any longer. Though there were occasions when he was more content in himself than he had been in ages, when sadness hit him it was not a pretty sight. He felt better, and worse, than ever - but his opinion of himself showed no signs of changing.
--
Selvis realised how bright the rocket's light was, and had to shade his eyes with a paw even as it was. He wasn't having as much difficulty as his albino companion, though, and he knew that Caden would be made to suffer if he watched for too long. He glimpsed the shapes that were lit up by the bright light, then turned away, frowning slightly, before returing his attention to Caden. Was the marten alright? It didn't seem like it. He stayed close by his companion as the light gradually burnt out.
He watched the approach of the Gunner's Mate with a small smile on his face, and his tail swished contentedly as he listened to the grison's order. "Bringing up extra shot from the hold? Alright; got it, sir. Thank you," he responded politely, eager to offer his services to the ship. He could see now that the Agamemnon was beginning to change position. They were indeed heading for the approaching frigates. Selvis knew it would be some time before anything else occurred, but now his suspicions had been confirmed: there was indeed going to be conflict. A quick glance at Caden, and he saw that the marten's eyes were open again. He patted his fellow mustelid's shoulder gently, letting him know he was still there. He'd looked rather disoriented after all.
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Post by spender on Oct 4, 2010 17:13:15 GMT -5
This was taking far too long. Despite refusing Peskers' offer to help, Spender still hadn't done up his hammock on his own. It was just him left, and Willard holding his own hammock, watching the miserable ferret struggling. Willard grimaced. Fates! Spender's eyes weren't even open. No wonder...
"Here," he sighed, putting his roll down to help Spender. No one can do anything without me... as always. "Let me help."
"I can do it--"
"No, you can't."
Four hour sleep shifts were the worst. Willard didn't mind them as much--it meant he could get more done being awake! But for Spender, it was easily the worst part of ship life. The ferret was on his, what... third, fourth hammock that was out of his own pay? Willard knew it was at least two. Half the time Spender was awake, but just too busy sulking to get out.
"Now look," the weasel muttered, "you're going to get me in trouble. We're both late now. Hope you're happy..."
"Iwan'coffee."
Willard had had coffee, once. He preferred to function without it. He liked his world not to go all wobbly around the edges. And to be able to hold things without them mysteriously spilling all over the place.*
The weasel and the ferret were the last two to come up and slot their hammocks away. Willard decided to keep his glasses in his pocket, despite the risk they would break if he was bumped around too much. If they were shot at, they'd break anyways, he figured.
"Oooooooh," Spender burbled, distracted by the flares.
Willard glanced around, trying to make sense of the chaos. There was Ocean and Carrow, there was Selvis and Caden and Elliot, there was the Captain, there was Peskers, heading off somewhere with the Carpenter...
"Seajack Cielciosk! Over here, lad. You'll be helping lower the boats!"
"Urrr," Spender moaned, zombieing his way over towards the Coxswain. Willard watched him go, amazed that anyone could look so asleep and still move without tripping on his own footpaws. The ferret hadn't been himself since that first day at Naples... Not that this was necessarily a bad thing, Willard reminded himself.
"Seajack Waters!"
The weasel spun around, saluting whoever it was who called for him. Which, it turned out, was the Gunner's Mate.
"Come with me, we're going down to the magazine. I'll give you instructions on the way, when things are a bit quieter. Let's go!"
Willard hopped to it. Strangely, for all his nervous tics and twitches, the weasel found himself entirely calmed by these events.
Neat!
* To Willard's perception of things on a caffeine high, the world shook. To the world's perception, Willard shook. Peskers had once joked that if they'd held him down to the deck after a cup of coffee, they could have sanded the wood down to be smooth as a newborn's tummy.
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Post by Ladorak on Oct 4, 2010 23:28:44 GMT -5
Melpomene was the name of the ship that Ladorak was gunning for. She was out ahead of the others...and Ladorak estimated he could engage for as long as three hours before the others could catch up. Plenty of time to finish her off. If she ran, the time slot might be less, but not by much. Agamemnon was the fastest ship in the Welkinite Navy, and could easily match a frigate's speed if she really wanted to. The Melpomene could pull away, but only just barely. She would be in range for a good bit.
Ladoark knew something about the orders to Linzee, and figured that these four frigates MUST have been from Tunis recently. Intelligence had reported at least one line of battleship in Tunis, along with about five frigates. Where else would they have come from? The only other Rosferian ships in this sea were under Welkin's control back at Toulon. How ironic then, to run into part of his quarry here...hundreds of miles from his destination.
He proceeded to head down off the quarterdeck, toward the waist where his ward stood. Caden was in the process of rubbing his eyes, grateful for Selvis's presence. The long tail was patting his shoulder, letting him know he was still right next to the albino.
As the marten's gaze came back into focus, he could see Spender, blurry at first, before he materialized into something more solid. And he was with the Coxswain...perfect...just who Caden wanted to work with...
He was suddenly aware of Ladorak standing next to him. "Oh! Captain!" Caden tardily saluted.
"At ease. She's the Melpomene" Ladorak's pronunciation came out "Melpomen", though in Common and not Rosferian it would be pronounced "Melpomeanie". "If I recall my mythology correctly, Melpomene was the Muse of tragedy...and we're the legendary King of Mycenae...so should be interesting. Do your best...son." Ladorak spoke lower there, squeezing Caden's shoulder before he departed.
Caden felt more at ease about this now, and nodded at the departing molting stoat. "Right Selvis...here we go." Caden grasped the wet canvas sheet in his hand, the whole thing being stretched the length of the weather deck as all the crew pitched in, grasping it with their paws and claws to drape it down over the hammocks. The canvas was tied down with rope, and knotted to keep it secure. That taken care of, the ship's "breastworks" were now in place, and the crew could get to their other duties. Caden had to admit...he felt slightly safer with the white wall blocking his view of the outside world, save of course for the night sky overhead. The "breastworks" blocked his view of the sea though, and even though they were thin, they gave the marten a sense of security.
"Selvis...guess I have to go and work with Spender..." Caden said, a bit forlornly. "Good luck on getting all that shot up from the hold. We're gonna need it." he winked one of his reddish eyes, and proceed over to the Coxswain. The other groups began to break off with their officers, all to tend to their duties. From on high, they must have resembled ants scurrying about, or something close to it.
"Right, Seajacks, this way!" The Coxswain led his group over to the cutter and launch that was stored amidships. "We've got to get these over the side so we can tow them behind us...far less chance of them being hit and destroyed that way. They'd be smashed to splinters if they were left on the deck...so let's see...divide into two. Half of you take the cutter, the other half take the launch. We'll lift on three, and carry them over to the davits."
Caden decided to take the cutter, as it was smaller and he was closer to it. "Hey Spender..." he said, in a lower tone. "Guess we're working together...again." He got his paws up and under the upturned boat, and waited for Spender and the others in his group to do the same.
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Ocean nodded, and gave the mouse a reassuring smile as he placed his paws on the rodent's shoulders. Cor...the guy looked like he was about to give himself an aneurysm. "Hey...thanks. You won't regret it...and I'll see you at our gun in fifteen minutes, OK?" After the ship had been "cleared", the crews were to report to their guns to get them cast loose and ready, and then they would be on down time until Beat to Quarters was sounded, in which case all crew needed to report their action stations.
He patted the mouse on the back, and jogged off with the eighth Lieutenant and his group. The fisher was leading them down below, towards the stern. He stopped them at the companionway however. "OK...I need three groups. One will be dismantling the Captain's and First Lieutenant's cabins, and taking everything in there below to the holds. Group two will be one deck down on the upper gun deck, dismantling the Lieutenants' cabins and taking all that stuff, including the wardroom table, down below. Group three will be taking apart the gun room's bulkheads. If you get done early, move down to the next deck and keep going until the stern areas are clear of EVERYTHING We need leg room people...so hop to it!"
Ocean decided to head one flight down and start taking apart the Lieutenants' cabins. He bounded down the stairs, surveying the thin wooden bulkheads that separated the gun deck from the wardroom. Rubbing his paws, the ermine clutched hold of one panel, and with a jerk of his arms, wrenched it out of its slots in the floor, and holding the slightly heavy wood panel above him. Tucking it under his arm, he motioned for Elliot, who was in his group, to come on over. "Here...you take one end, I'll take the other, and let's get this bad boy down to the holds. You can lead off, I'll be right behind" he suggested, resting the other end on the deck until Elliot could get to it.
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Ladorak had moved back into the stern, knocking on his cabin door and calling to Molly within. "If you aren't decent, you might want to throw something on. They're going to be taking down the partitions in my room soon...so you'll be standing in a big empty space if you aren't ready. May I come in?" he asked, hoping she was decent.
Already the dismantling crew was taking down the first Lieutenant's and Master's cabins, which flanked the entrance to his cabin on either side, and they would soon be on the Captain's space.
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Post by Carrow on Oct 5, 2010 15:35:00 GMT -5
Selvis couldn’t help but look disappointed when Caden delivered his news. The weasel had been hoping such a thing wouldn’t come to pass, but now he couldn’t help but worry a little. Spender had gotten himself into some unsettling situations since they’d docked in Naples at the start of September, and knowing how much the ferret despised the albino marten - it was well known that he was thought of as a ‘freak’ by the bully - he was concerned, and rightly so.
“Well now, that is a shame…,” he murmured. “Sory to hear you have to work with him - although in his case it probably won’t be ‘with’. He’ll most likely not do any work or something like that. You know how he is after all. And of course… well, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague ever since the incident a few months ago, so I know that you’re far from pleased about this. If he does anything to disrupt things tonight, though, he’s going to have me to deal with. Behaviour such as he would get up to, at a time like this? Well, I’m not going to stand for it if he does let us down,” he said softly, his voice resolute. He’d taken just about as much as he could stand of the ferret, and if the irritating beast stepped out of line, it wouldn’t have to be just the authorities he’d have to contend with…
Not that Selvis’s thoughts were straying towards violence. He was a powerful stripling, that much had to be admitted, but he only ever exercised this strength to help defend those he saw being abused in like manner - which is to say that if Spender inflicted physical pain on Caden or Carrow, he would be on the aggressor in two shakes, caring little for the consequences. He waved Caden off, calling to him: “Thanks! I’ll certainly do my best! Good luck and take care!” Another thing he was unable to tolerate was laziness, and Spender had been seen to exhibit plenty of that already. A creature who didn’t pull their weight didn’t last aboard ship. He remained where he was, waiting for instructions from the Gunner’s Mate.
—
Carrow found himself being comforted by Ocean, and the mouse couldn’t help but smile. He felt the strong ermine’s paws on his shoulders, and he finally brought himself to meet his companion’s gaze. “Y-you’re welcome…,” he murmured, still trembling visibly. He couldn’t keep himself from thinking of the worst case scenario at a time like this, and he wasn’t even thinking of the ship, or its crew. The worst thing that could possibly happen to the petrified rodent was that he should freeze at a crucial moment. He knew that the auxiliaries had slightly less to do, but he was still one of the cogs in the wheel, helping it on its way, and he knew he still had a part to play. Responsibility like this was something he was unfamiliar with, and when placed in context of the upcoming skirmish, it only increased in magnitude.
He thought again of the letter he had been pawed some weeks ago. Addressed to ‘Cerinus Apodemus, HMS Agamemnon’, it lay unopened near his sleeping quarters. He had wanted to open it, but his recent confidence crisis (extreme confidence crisis in the wood mouse’s case) had prevented him from doing so. Thinking of her always produced mixed emotions within him, and since he was more inclined towards a despondent disposition these days, he was afraid to open the letter and read it lest he should start weeping. They would of course be tears of happiness (as he had been assured she was most likely still alive), but nonetheless he felt he needed to keep more of a pawdle on his emotions. If there was a time for that, it would be after the battle… if he survived.
“I-I-I’m s-sure I won’t,” he responded shakily, his nerves subsiding a little (though this decrease would have been invisible to almost any creature: tense Carrow was tense Carrow; when he was on edge, it showed clearly, no matter his degree of anxiety). “You’re quite welcome. I’ll… I’ll see you soon…” His voice lowered, becoming quite distant for a moment as his thoughts turned to other matters. He was doing all he could not to think of the significance of a certain date within the next week. He didn’t need to be reminded of that at a time like this. That was the last thing he wanted. Yawning a little, he watched Ocean depart, brown eyes travelling to the Midshipjack who had first addressed him. Right… enough of that, he thought. Listen out for orders. For now, that’s all I need to do.
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Post by spender on Oct 5, 2010 16:37:06 GMT -5
"Guess we're working together...again."
The ferret just yawned. "Hey... don't sound so excited about it," he mumbled.
He was still sore that he'd been tricked into getting things for Caden and not Ocean. The pine marten still seemed to dislike him, and Ocean wasn't much better off either. What an absolute waste.
Not that he minded, when he went to see Molly during off-hours... All that just slipped away. It was nice to be able to enjoy himself for once.
Peskers was still a problem, though. He--She'd--only talked to him once afterwards, to make him promise not to tell anyone, or else she would inflict grievous bodily harm on him (and seeing as the talk was had whilst she had him in a headlock with her knee poised, he was inclined to believe she was not bluffing.) But any of that friendliness she'd displayed while wearing a dress was gone, and she was back to her usual ways of trying to make him trip, pushing him when that failed, and stepped on his paws before he could get up again.
It was really quite depressing. He'd thought everything would change that day. And no matter how much he shoved his hatred aside and tried to be pleasant, all he ever got was a smile and a wave from the others. It made him want to punch them for being so rude.
The little boat lifted gradually. Spender's muscles popped--the months at sea had finally filled him out somewhat. No longer was his size just for show, padded out by fur and blubbery ferret blubber. Even without putting all his effort into it, a considerable amount of the boat's weight was taken off the others' paws because of him. Not that he really noticed. Every pair of paws helped.
"Hrrm," he grunted, peering through sleep-gooped eyes left and right. "Which way's th'davits...?" Were they on the starboard or larboard side right now?
"Yes," Molly called. She wasn't decent--not in the sense of being appropriate for public display, at least. She was still very much in her underthings, although she had one of Ladorak's jackets slung over her shoulders, and was in the process of dancing around on one footpaw, trying to get her other into a pair of his trousers.
She blushed when he came in.
"I can't find my fighting clothes!" she wailed. She hopped back and sat on her chest of clothes to finish tugging the trousers on. "I'm not going out there in a dress! What happened to my working skirts? Did someone take them to the hold?"
She did up the belt and began working on putting the jacket on.
"D'you have a moment to help with the curtains? I don't want the crew to tear them if they're going to take them down..."
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Post by bookity101 on Oct 5, 2010 23:39:49 GMT -5
Elle could only nod to the Lieutenant before she had to follow her group down the hold. Avoiding the many beasts around them was a task and a half on most days, but now it was nigh unto imposable. Still, she managed to stick close to Ocean, using his much taller and stronger body to block some of the beasts who were sure to throw her off balance.
After the Lieutenant's orders, everybeast "hopped to it". And Elle found herself catching hold of the opposite end of the plank that Ocean had grabbed.
"Right.." She latched onto the end of the board, barely noticing the weight. It seemed Spender wasn't the only one who had added muscle during their time at sea.
"You're gonna have to tell me where to go though." She grimaced a little at all the beasts around her. "It's kinda hard to see everything when you are my height." Elle took two steps forward, and promptly bashed her snout on a beast who appeared out of nowhere...
"Then again, maybe the tallest should lead the way..."
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