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Post by spender on Oct 9, 2010 19:15:23 GMT -5
Molly had shivers. It took everything she had not to punctuate each of Ladorak's with a short "zhzhzhp". Oh, the thrill of it all!
"Sounds like a good plan," she crooned, leaning her head on his shoulder. "But two hours? What are we going to do while we wait?" She waved a paw at the vast emptiness around them, making her point clear.
She paused to think a moment, scratching the back of her head; brown fur floated off in all directions, making space for the white hairs to come in.
"Will there be any paw-to-paw combat, or all long-range?"
Molly wasn't entirely oblivious to how Welkin's navy operated. She knew actual encounters were rare beyond much more than some cannon fire and all that. She would have to do her best not to be disappointed if it didn't come to anything more bloody than a few broken masts and a splinter or two.
Spender didn't feel like going up the ladder. His arms were tired from carrying the boat, and he didn't trust Caden not to pull his tail. But seeing as if he went first, he wouldn't trust Caden not to kick him in the head, there really was no point in complaining.
Not that this stopped him.
"I'm too tired to climb," he moaned, halfway up. "Don't think about pullin' my tail... aww, why's it gotta be so far... couldn't somebeast else climb for me?"
If it weren't for the exhaustion seeping out of his expression, one could have thought the ferret was simply being facetious, for he climbed the ladder and deposited himself back on deck without a hitch—but with three more yawns. He even got one of the officers yawning, who grumped about it when he realised why he'd done it, too.
Spender turned to watch Caden climb up, but didn't offer the marten any assistance. It didn't even occur to him to offer a paw up. Caden was a marten, after all...
The ferret's ears pricked. He could hear the order for beasts to report to their guns... So where did that leave him? The only gun crew he'd been on, he'd been kicked off.
It was a shame. He'd liked his little booties, and running around... not so much the carrying, but... Why'd they have to give him a different job? What a bore!
"When d'we get coffee?"
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Post by Ladorak on Oct 10, 2010 12:30:40 GMT -5
"I actually have things to do in that time...need to get out on deck...see if we need to set more sails..." Ladorak said, leaning against her head, his words reluctant, as he really wanted to just settle down by the non-existent stern windows with a strong drink and her by his side...but work came first.
He started walking out, pulling away from her, albeit slowly. "There's a small chance it will be close range...but they're smaller vessels...chances are my quarry will run, and try and outpace us, which he can...but we can keep him in range for a while. Their Captain's not an idiot...I doubt they'll try and close distance."
The stoat stepped out into the night, climbing the stairs up to the quarterdeck. He withdrew his spyglass and angled it out across the water. "Alright...we need to set the main sails...and the studding sails would be useful as well...I want to creep up on them while they're striving to get ahead."
"Aye sir." the first Lieutenant said as Ladorak closed his glass. Caden was just coming up over the side, following Spender. He had received no assistance, but he hadn't needed it. Spender's assessment of his climbing skills had been fairly accurate...he had experience on the ratlines after all, and had loved to climb trees before coming aboard. His favorite spot at Ladorak's house was the big oak tree out in back.
"We're getting the galley set up for that...along with a light meal, but you have your duties to attend to first." the Coxswain reminded Spender, and promptly slapped him across his back with a sharp crack of his rattan. "That's...when do we get coffee...SIR. You say 'sir' when you speak to an officer...you've been on this ship long enough to know that. Show some respect. Otherwise...good job lads. Caden, get down to your gun, Spender...report to the mainmast. The Boatswain will give you your orders."
Ladorak was in fact passing those orders out now, which involved setting the mainsails and studding sails in order to gain more speed on the lead frigate. Spender's comrades were gathering about the base of the mainmast, the Boatswain and his mates collecting them together, the Boatswain in charge of the mainmast at the moment.
Caden nodded, briefly frowning at the rather idiotic Spender and his lack of following code. He didn't frown at him...just frowned. That ferret asked for it every single time. Caden saluted, and eagerly took off down the stairs, heading for the companionway. Time to see everyone again! Spender would be excluded from their group for the moment, as he had duties on the mast to take care of. He'd play with Spender after they were on down time...provided the ferret was being sincere. If he wasn't...no fur off Caden's back.
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"Here...I'll take this..." Ocean hefted the panel up under his arm. "You get to the gun...we're done here anyway. See you there. And don't worry...I won't blab about this..." the ermine said, giving her a reassuring nod as he moved off toward the companionway, intending to deliver this panel down and report to his station, now as a Sponger instead of an Assistant Sponger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crews were gathering at the guns down below, each one reporting to their proper station. Barrels of water were set up all long the decks, as battle could be thirsty work. Each deck had two Lieutenants in charge of it during actual combat...they were the ones who decided who to shoot at, and gave out the orders. The Captain could pass on orders to them via the Midshipjacks. Every four guns were either under the command of a Master's Mate, a Midshipjack, or a Quarter Gunner. These individuals were in charge of deciding what part of the ship to aim at, or what type of shot to use. For the number four gun, starboard side, lower gun deck, a Quarter Gunner was in charge.
Caden tried his best not to kick up the sand, though seeing as there was water that had been spread underneath the silicon, it was hard to do. The wet grain stuck in the bottom of his shoes, but made traction easier as he walked up to his gun station. The Gun Captain of their cannon was already there, and the Quarter Gunner stood back a ways, close to the galley.
"Hey guys!" Caden exclaimed, jogging around the Gun Captain and throwing him a salute as he did so. He shuffled over to the left side of the gun, standing at this station. Most of the crews were gathering, and before long, Ocean trotted up as well, the swish, swish, swish of the wet sand under his foot paws mixing in with the other noises of the gun deck. Shouting, thudding of barrels being set down, as well as the whack of mallets striking the beams in the middle of the gun deck. The last beam was being knocked out, to be taken down to the hold to ensure that the crew had almost uninterrupted running space should they need to move quickly.
"Silence...SILENCE!" the Lieutenants shouted out the orders, now that the gun crews were in their spots. As this was the most powerful gun deck, the second Lieutenant was in command of the forward half, and the ninth Lieutenant was in command of the aft end. Talking diminished, until the clamor stopped altogether.
"CAST LOOSE YOUR GUN!" the two Lieutenants shouted. The second Lieutenant was a hulking badger, and he also served as senior gunnery officer on the ship. The Lieutenants had speaking trumpets, so that the Master's Mates, Quarter Gunners and Midshipjacks could all hear their orders, though those weren't necessary now as combat had not been commenced and the gun deck was fairly quiet.
Caden immediately worked the rope loose that held the muzzle of the gun pointing upward, and the barrel sank downward with the weight. He reached down, Ocean doing the same, and unhooked the side tackles, pawing the ropes to the auxiliaries on either side of the cannon. As this was going on, the Gun Captain was fitting the gun lock in place, sliding it down into the slot and making sure it was secure.
The rattling of the bolt as it slid out of the ring indicated that Ocean had yanked the gun port's lock free, and both he and Caden pushed with their paws on the wood, throwing open the gun port and letting the night air stream in to them. The process was being repeated all up and down the line. Battle lanterns had been lit and were hanging behind each gun up on the beams, and each were specially reinforced to withstand a possible fall and impact with the deck. Risk of fire was kept at a minimum, but the battle lanterns still provided enough light for the gun crews to work by, without letting brilliant light cascade out the now open gun ports and provide a nice target for the enemy.
Caden liked the cool feel of the night air brushing his fur as he stepped back away from the open port, and knew that now Carrow, the Assistant Sponger, would need to be retrieving the rammer, worm, and sponge from the hooks above him, and laying them out next to the gun. Likewise, Selvis and Polly would need to reach up and retrieve their pawspikes from the ceiling above, and lay them beside the gun as well.
The Quarter Gunner, a mink, turned to the powder runners that were lined up amidships (rather easily without the beams being in the way) for his set of four guns, Willard being among them. "Powder carriers, get down to the magazine and bring up the salt box as well as the first cartridge. Get to it!" the mink ordered. The salt box would have two cartridges inside, and the powder carrier would be holding the first one that would go into the gun in his free paw. Down below, in the almost pitch black magazine and filling room, the otter Gunner and his mates were hard at work measuring out correct powder amounts (too little the shot wouldn't go as far; too much the gun might blow up) and tapping them down into the canvas sacks that they would then sew up and set aside, ready to paw off to the powder carriers when they arrived down in the holds.
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Post by Carrow on Oct 10, 2010 13:42:07 GMT -5
Carrow and Selvis turned as one when Caden addressed his companions, and both smiled upon seeing him. Carrow, in particular, was quite glad to see his friend again. He was about to respond, but the Lieutenants got there first, and he stopped himself just in time, listening as the talk diminished and then ceased altogether. The mouse knew then that they would imminently be commencing the preparation of the guns, readying them for firing later on. A tremor of anticipation ran through the rodent again as he waited for the first order.
It came more quickly than even he had been anticipating. At the command of 'Cast loose your gun!', his brown-eyed gaze was immediately cast upward to the hooks above him. With a shade of difference, he knew that he and Ocean would have had their positions reversed, but he had always carefully studied the actions of his Assistant Sponger whenever he'd had the chance, and he was reasonably certain he could replicate them, even under the entirely different and much more stressful conditions in which the wood mouse now found himself.
His vision was improved by the lanterns. It took the mouse a brief moment to adjust to the light, even though he was not facing it head on. He had little difficulty getting his bearings, however, and soon he had taken down the rammer, worm and sponge, holding them in trembling paws for a second to make sure he could pawdle them. One involuntary twitch and they'd all hit the deck - and the problem of spasmodic movements such as those was another the rodent had to deal with when he felt himself to be under pressure. He hardly trusted his own paws in situations like this, but as it was he had no problem with it. He set them out beside the gun, just about able to distinguish the enemy ships. They weren't especially close.... but they were getting closer.
Selvis had been on tenterhooks, waiting for the first order, and as soon as it was bellowed out by the Lieutenants, he set to work, reaching up above him with scarcely a glance. He was positioned directly below the pawspikes, and he took his down without any great effort (unlike Carrow who'd had to stand on tip-paw to retrieve his things; even despite his so-called 'growth spurt', Carrow was still a little on the short side, which of course meant he had to stretch to grab things that weren't in easy reach above his head), placing them beside the gun in a nonchalant fashion.
The weasel certainly wasn't a cocky creature, but he had always been fond of physical exercise, a habit he'd gotten into that had enhanced his natural dexterity, and now the benefits could be seen clearly in the ease with which he went about his tasks. The mustelid was prepared to do his very best in this situation. He knew his companions would to - but he was wondering just how they'd be affected when combat actually begun. Carrow was becoming a real concern in that department. The longtail relished it, and made no effort to cover it up; while Carrow made his best attempts to conceal his trepidation but couldn't keep it under wraps at all - and they were only in the preparation stage...
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Post by Ladorak on Oct 10, 2010 23:31:45 GMT -5
The crew were completing their tasks satisfactorily, and the next orders were passed out. "TAKE OUT YOUR TOMPION!" The "tompkin" was pulled loose by Caden, who grasped hold of the lanyard and jerked it outward, a nice pop being emitted as the plug came out of the muzzle. The marten let the tompion dangle by the lanyard, and looked out the port to the distant enemy vessels, black shapes moving in the night. They were out there alright...and the distance was closing. Still about three miles away, if not further.
The auxiliaries on either side placed their paws on the gun, and began rolling it back now, back away from the hull. The wheels on the carriage squeaked, groaning out as the heavy weapon was moved backward so that the Second Captain could affix the train tackle to the back of the carriage. The Gun Captain backed up, inserting the other end of the train tackled into the ring on the deck, preventing the gun from moving forward. The breeching rope wrapped around the cannon prevent backward motion of course.
The gun was now secure, and the Gun Captain moved back to begin screwing on the bolt to keep the gun lock in place. He spun the metal piece around, making sure it was secure, twisting it until it couldn't go any further.
"LEVEL YOUR GUN!" This order was for the Gun Captain and the pawspikers. Selvis and Polly would need to lever the back end of the cannon up so that the Gun Captain could insert the quion, and keep the gun pointed straight.
Peskers picked up her massive wooden "crowbar" from the deck, and inserted one end under the breech of the gun. She'd wait for Selvis to start lifting, and would push down when she felt him doing the same.
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Post by spender on Oct 11, 2010 2:12:07 GMT -5
For all the muttering and griping that followed the whack of the rattan, it did have one positive effect on Spender; it had woken him up. The ferret ambled over to the main mast, trying to reach his new ache with an arm twisted behind his back.
"Wosn't talkin' t'you, stupidface," he murmured, keeping his voice just low enough to expel air and not be heard. "Can't a ferret talk to 'isself without gettin' smacked around like a bug... grumblin' chivvers-faced officers just like t'hit me 'cos they like feelin' their sticks bounce off... stop bein' so bouncy, Spender... fuzzy wobbly zipperfrisker chubguts..."
So cursing, he found his way over to his station, where the Boatswain instructed him to help set the main sail. That was easy enough. Just a bit more climbing, some fiddling with ropes and things... after all the practice it came almost, but not quite, second nature to him. Spender normally despised busywork, but this was something he found he was... not "capable"... but at least he didn't screw it up constantly.
It was an improvement.
His spirits lifted higher when he spotted Molly down below, tailing the Captain. He tried to wave at her, but dared not call her name and attract anyone else's attention--such as any officer nearby who wanted to bounce their rattan off his rump again.
Willard hurriedly scraped sand from his footpaws. He much preferred going bear around the ship, finding his claws and pads had better grip than the shoes worn by most of the crew.* But with all the sand, he was rather annoyed. He couldn't wait to slip his slippers on--when he did, he found their warm comfyness to be invigorating.
Having already gone up and down a few times to help prepare supplies, it was but the work of a moment to move his tail down to the powder room and pick up the three cartridges, box and all.
His way back was a little slower, half due in part to the weight of the box, and half because he suddenly realised he was carrying things that, when heated up, would explode and likely shred his outsides and turn his insides into curry. Not that he would let them get near heat, but he hadn't lived all thirteen years of his life without taking into account the risks of his actions. Weasels were capable of sliding into holes as big as their heads, but Willard was the kind of weasel who made sure that any hole he slid into was as wide as his head plus both fists. Maybe it was boring not to walk along the edge of a fence like the other kits did, but he'd never fallen and gotten a sharpened stake through the leg, so nyah.
Life was dangerous enough without tempting the fates...
Willard held out the first cartridge to Caden when he arrived, and once his paw was free, saluted the marten with it, just in case that was the right thing to do.
* Unless it's a rule to wear shoes, in which case... XD
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Post by Carrow on Oct 11, 2010 4:28:20 GMT -5
Selvis perked up visibly when he heard the next set of orders. he'd been waiting for Caden to follow up on his command, and had one eye on his pawspike the whole time - whilst he'd kept the other on the albino marten. He seemed to be doing quite well for himself thus far - a pretty much flawless job that would have been expected of most anybeast who'd been doing as well as he'd done in practice. They'd been working on this for months after all.
Right then, matey, Selvis told himself, time to shine. The weasel hefted the so-called crowbar in his paws, smiling as he inserted one end under the gun's breech, just as he had done countless times before. All the work he had done on this was set to stand to him. Having done this at least once a day when they were on gun training, it was pretty much second nature to the mustelid at this stage.
Bracing himself, he clamped down on the pawspike, glancing over at Peskers for a moment before he went ahead with his work. He was being expected to lead this time around. It made no difference to him anyway. The longtail knew that the practice had made things quite a good deal easier, so he had little trouble applying as much force as he could muster to the pawspike. He pushed down on it, muscles bulging as he began to lift, expecting Peskers to follow suit at any moment.
Carrow had felt his gaze drawn to his weasel companion's progress. If anything, he was the odd one out in the group of friends when it came to physical ability. Caden was strong; so too was Selvis, and even Elliot seemed to find that sort of work easier than the mouse did. Then Spender - who was more an enemy of the rodent's than anything else - could pawdle anything physical that came his way - if he so chose to do so, that is.
The wood mouse stripling had none of that, of course. He didn't stand out in a crowd; he wasn't really renowned for anything like that. But he preferred being more inconspicuous. He had received 'attention' in school, and the scars from all that still hadn't healed. It was likely they never would. That treatment had changed his life... well, more like ruined it. He didn't think much of himself precisely because of it. He had been told numerous times that he was a good friend, however. There were times when the field mouse felt that that was the only thing he had going for him, but he felt strangely content with that. Better something like that than nothing at all... than how the first eleven years of his life had been.
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Post by Ladorak on Oct 11, 2010 13:12:10 GMT -5
The Boatswain was ordering the mainsails to be set, in order to increase speed and get the ship barreling toward her prey. At the same time, the studding sails would need to be set after Spender and the others completed setting the mainsail. The studding sails were attached to additional yards that the rigging workers would need to run out and tie down to the edges on either end of the main yard.
With the studding sails set, the Agamemnon would be signaling her intent for a general chase. The Melpomene would either try and run...or keep on her present heading...but either way, Ladorak intended to close distance faster than they could anticipate. One thing the stoat Captain was certain of...they wouldn't be banking on his speed. A 64 gunner shouldn't be able to move quite as fast as the Agamemnon could, and Ladorak was hoping to use that to his advantage.
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Peskers pushed down as well, leveling the giant gun up and lifting the breech so that the Gun Captain could slide the quion in. The giant wooden wedge was pushed underneath the breech, and the back of the gun now rested on it as the pawspikes were withdrawn. The gun was perfectly level, pointing neither up nor down.
Caden caught Selvis looking at him earlier, before the long tail shifted his attention over to the mouse. Hm...the marten wondered if Selvis wanted anything. Caden was surprised a second later to find Willard standing next to him. Wasn't...the powder carrier not supposed to move forward until the load with cartridge order had been given? Ah well...Caden supposed the weasel was hyper tonight...or wanted to jump the gun. At any rate, the order soon arrived.
"LOAD WITH CARTRIDGE!" the badger Lieutenant shouted. Caden took the cartridge out of the paws of the weasel, but noticed something peculiar. He wasn't wearing shoes. Shoes weren't required in combat...only if you were working on the weather deck. It increased injuries if you stubbed your toes, or stepped on something sharp (generally didn't happen as decks were cleaned at least once a day), but otherwise, Caden thought that he'd rather like the feel of his bare paws on the wet sand.
The albino made sure the stitching on the canvas (the seam) was pointed down, and shoved the canvas sack filled with black powder into the muzzle. He then held out his right paw to Elliot, to receive the wad. Elle, as the Assistant Loader, would be working on tying junk rope together that was kept in a net nearby, to make sure there were plenty of wads for the upcoming battle.
As Caden waited for the wad, he took the liberty of copying Willard, and gently eased off his right foot paw's shoe with his left foot paw, and then did the same for his left. He stood on the sandy deck, wriggling his freed toes in the grit. It felt...stupendous. He smiled, happy at this change.
Ocean was glancing across at Elliot, giving her a small nod. As soon as Caden shoved the wad in, the ermine would ram the cartridge down into the gun chamber. He briefly wondered what it was that Caden was doing, but quickly dismissed it, figuring that perhaps the marten felt more comfortable without shoes at the moment.
Ocean held his paw out for the rammer, knowing Caden would retrieve it from the deck to paw to him any second.
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Post by Carrow on Oct 11, 2010 15:14:38 GMT -5
Carrow had also noticed what Willard had done. He'd slid his shoes off to acquaint his toes with the feel of the sand. He tilted his head in a curious fashion - something that had become a habit of his. Whenever Carrow was intrigued about something, it was either the raised eyebrow or the head tilt that expressed his feelings, and he settled on the latter for this particular instance. Now he saw Caden follow suit, and he dragged his shoes in the sand to test it out a little.
He imagined anything like that feeling rather nice beneath his paws - but then he reckoned that there was always a chance of his exposed footpaws being caught on something if he was on the move, so this made him hesitate a moment, and he eventually decided against it. The absolute last thing the mouse needed at this stage was another injury of any kind. He became still again, watching the ongoing proceedings with interest. He'd seen it all before numerous times, but he was still fascinated by it. The crew of the Agamemnon were growing more efficient by the day, it seemed.
The rodent's thoughts had strayed a moment, as he wondered how little details like this could pop into his mind at moments like these - in situations like the one he found himself in. If anything, he quite liked that idea. He'd be doing himself a favour by thinking of anything else but the task that needed doing, and he knew it. His nerves were still there, very much so, but since he had things to do he was keeping them at bay, or at least trying to. He wasn't quite sure how much longer he'd be able to keep it up, though, as those ships were getting closer still.
His gaze soon returned to his immediate surroundings, however, and he realised that he was needed again. Ocean was holding out his paw, in need of the rammer. The stripling snapped to it, reaching down... and feeling a strange sort of twinge in his back. He frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen. It was only minor though, and he wasn't going to worry himself over such a trifling matter. If his back should start giving him trouble during the upcoming skirmish, the mouse was going to keep going through the pain - a remarkably different outlook to that of the creature who had fainted from what was merely a graze back in Whistleminster.
He crouched instead, feeling that he had more support in such a position. He didn't have a good reach, and added to his diminutive stature this often caused problems for the mouse, but he'd gotten used to it. He'd made do. This time, nothing untoward occurred, so, satisfied, he reached down for the rammer and gradually rose to a standing position once again. He knew that he'd be looked at by Kasal if he came to him with a complaint - and maybe even looked after. He'd had little experience with the older pine marten's methods, so was quite unsure what sort of reception he might receive under such circumstances. Pawing the rammer over to Ocean, he gave the ermine a small, nervous smile.
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Post by bookity101 on Oct 11, 2010 22:52:16 GMT -5
Elle couldn’t help it, she froze. He KNEW!?!? She knew that jills and jacks smelled different, she could tell that, then again she had always been able to. But she had been so, so careful… and since Naples, she had been extra careful about her scent.. she remembered that Caden had once been confused about why she and her “brother” smelled so similar… and now Ocean Ocean knew
Before she could get her senses back, the orders for the guns were called. Numbly she nodded and followed the flow of beasts to her station. In her dazed state she made her way around the larger beasts around her, unfortunately, one of the crew beasts who was also headed her direction had a reputation for not having the best of balance. He also had absolutely no sense of smell, as it had been lopped off in an altercation in years gone by… meaning he had absolutely no idea how bad he always smelled. And because she wasn’t watching where she was going, she couldn’t avoid said over weight, stinky, wobbly weasel as he slipped on the one, the only, smallest fractional portion of the deck that had no sand on it. Both went tumbling, and off flew one shoe. Elle managed to scoop it up, but she didn’t bother to slide it back on…
Arriving just after Caden did, she simply nodded to the assembled beasts as she took her place by Caden, for once glad that that his smell had rubbed off onto her clothes. There was no way that anybeast would be able tell the difference between her female smell and any of the males surrounding her.
Focusing in on the routine of her job, she set to. She was always careful to stay out of the way when not needed. But now the confounded rope was giving her fits. Her paws were fumbling with nerves at what Ocean had said. She had blanked out almost everything after he said “..for a jill.” Bits and pieces had registered like;
“..smell your scent… so different… officers… to busy…” …and after that, nothing. It worried her! She had finally found out how to keep everything in her mind organized in Naples, but it revolved around the beasts who knew her secret being let in on the secret as her discretion.. not because she smelled different!!
Elle glanced over her shoulder, he paws pausing in their trembling. She had caught Oceans nod, prompting some of the conversation, well one sided conversation to rush back.
“Don't worry about telling me... And don't worry...I won't blab about this...”
A weak smile began, and then grew more confident. Caden hadn’t found out Or Carrow for that matter. Ocean wasn’t going to tell. And now there was one more beast to help her out if things became too muddled. Selvis was great, in a comforting Uncle kind of way. But Elle had watched Ocean deal with Spender, and appreciated the fact that he had a more no-nonsense style. Definitely the type that might be able to help keep her from freaking out... like she just did. Shaking her head, Elle sighed as the knots of nerves in her chest began to relax, and as they did, she found that working with the junk rope became so much easier to do. Soon she turned and carefully placed the wad into Caden’s waiting paw.
“Sorry about the delay, bad case of nerves, but I’m better now…” Elle waited till she caught Oceans eyes, then nodded and smiled slightly to him. Then she couldn’t help but catch Carrow’s eye as she went to turn ‘round again. A brilliant encouraging smile was shot to the young mouse along with a wink before she turned back to what she was doing. Finally ready for all that was happening....
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Post by Ladorak on Oct 12, 2010 16:16:24 GMT -5
Caden stuffed the wad into the muzzle, and stepped back as Ocean retrieved the rammer from Carrow's paws. The older stripling began the process of ramming the wad and cartridge down into the gun chamber. The rammer shoved the contents down the barrel, and Ocean gave it several good pushes before he felt satisfied, withdrawing the rammer and leaning on it as he waited for the next set of instructions, the final before their break..
"Thanks." He said, softly so that only Carrow could hear. They weren't supposed to be talking at the moment, so the ermine stripling kept his voice low, more muttering than anything else, but he still figured to thank Carrow, and not just for pawing him the rammer, but for letting him have this job in the first place.
"SHOT AND WAD YOUR GUN!" the badger shouted, his voice echoing in the enclosed deck. The Gun Captain ran his vent pricker down the vent, puncturing the powder bag and withdrawing the small copper instrument to his satisfaction. Ocean had done a good job...no need of further ramming.
Caden turned to Elle now, who was going to paw him first the heavy 24 pound shot, and then another wad. After both had been rammed home, they could go on break and let the Middle Watch take over. "You looked really flustered about something when you got here...you OK?" Caden asked the beech marten, doing his best to keep his voice low as he cupped his paws, ready to receive the heavy weight.
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