A Pressing Engagement

[Ladorak]

He watched as she managed to jab her paw with her ramrod. Ow... was that from the lack of depth perception, or something else? He knew that only having one eye would banish any depth perception that she previously had held, so perhaps it had to do with that?

Either way, she did manage to get the rammer where it belonged, and he immediately picked up on the playful tone in her voice as well. He blinked, and gave her a fake "pout" in reaction to her rather "furious outburst". She had cursed, yes, but it seemed more in relation to her initial failure at getting the gun properly loaded. He laced his "pout" with a subtle undertone of "I'm on to you" before breaking out into a grin as well, unable to contain himself as he accepted the proffered grenade.

"Fine." he said, wrenching it away from her. "It looks like I just did!" he flashed his teeth in another grin, and moved over to a marine. "Match, if you please."

"Uh... right away sir." the marine said, fumbling around in his ammunition pouch for just such the tool that his Captain had requested. The ship's captain carried the equivalent rank of lieutenant colonel in the marines, and thus would always outrank any land officer that came on board, as the marines went no higher than captain in their own ranks on a navy vessel.

Saumarez was determined to make these Rosferians bleed with their next broadside. He was already going a good job of getting their attention, but the two frigates ahead of him were still focusing on the Druid. "Get ready!" he called out, for all around him. The marines needed no further urging, as they were going about their task like clockwork.

He strained his ears downward in order to hear what Steep was saying as he began to pick up on it. She was using her native tongue again, so he would have to pay extra attention. He caught most of it, however.

Her reaching out and rubbing behind his ear helped to put him at ease, and probably erased the blank expression on his countenance that he had given her. Smiling now after overcoming his shock, the weasel nodded, and spoke right back to her in rather fluent Ferlusanian.

"That's not going to happen. We're going to lead them on a merry chase, get away with it all, and enjoy our wedding later today. Not only that... we'll be enjoying life for many a day after this one." he stated, giving her a wink and light pat on the cheek.

Turning to face the cut down that they were drawing even to, he struck his match, and applied the small flame to the fuse. Already the ship was shuddering with the explosion of another broadside from the gun deck below them. Saumarez judged the time to toss, and promptly did so when he felt they were close enough, hearing the sharp crack of the muskets ring out, echoing with the booms of the cannon below them as he pitched his iron orb over toward the Rosferians.

The air was once again filled with smoke, and this time there was flying debris as the sides of the Scevola absorbed the punishment, suffering under the weight of the metal that struck the oak. An explosion went off somewhere on the main deck of the 50 gun cut down, and a few bodies could be seen flying into the air above the smoke, as if being tossed out of the mouth of an irate volcano.

The Rosferian warship launched its own broadside, but once again they aimed high, as per their custom, and tore into the rigging of the Crescent. Saumarez snapped his claws and let out an exclamation of satisfaction as he saw what was most likely his grenade doing some damage. "Yes! I'd say that'd get their attention, eh?" he looked briefly over in Steep's direction before lining up another shot with his pistol as he saw a gap open up in the fog like smoke, and he pulled off another round, sending it ripping through the air over to their opponents.

[spender]

Steep was down one grenade and both her pistol and musket needed reloading, after only a few seconds into the next fight. Unheeding the smoke this time, she unleashed all she had at once, going for the more exhilarating tactic of pure force over aiming and waiting—both things she wasn't in the mood to be doing anymore.

She glanced up as the Rosferian shots whizzed overhead. She scowled.

"James," she said, poking him in the shoulder. "You arranged all this, didn't you? This is a joke! They're not even firing at us! Are those even Rosferian ships, or are they Welkin ships loaded up with life-size dolls?"

She couldn't stay mad; she began breaking down in giggles at the idea of Saumarez, wanting to impress her on their wedding day, hiring his Captain friends to give chase and engage in a faux battle. Was this the kind of jack she was to be dealing with the rest of their lives?

Oh, well—might as well have some fun! She lit her last grenade and lobbed it over, then jammed her elbows down and buried her cheeks in her paws, letting the weight of her head ooze the flesh back to bare her grinning teeth at the resulting explosion.

[Ladorak]

"What?" he asked, blinking at her as they began to sail past the second cut down. "Are you crazy?" he pointed at the holes in their sails and the loose rigging that was now flapping around uselessy in the wind. "Would I risk damaging government property for all of this?" he asked, but as he saw her giggling he realized she really must think it was true.

It was hard enough to hear between the two of them as was, what with all the loud popping of muskets going off. "If one of our masts goes over the side, I can assure you it'll be no laughing matter." he said, moving past her a little to get a better view of the two frigates. "That's a favorite tactic of theirs! Disable their opponent's ship by targeting the masts!" he explained, motioning upward at the three standing masts.

"QUARTERMASTER!" he yelled back at the one in charge at the ship's helm. "PREPARE TO WEAR SHIP! HEAD FOR GUERNSEY!" he motioned with his paw towards the island, and the beasts at the wheel nodded their understanding.

"We're going to be wearing, so hang tight. Wind will be coming over our left or larboard side now. So get ready to possibly lose balance a little."

"PREPARE FOR WEARING!" the Midshipjacks were shouting out, repeated by the Boatswain and his mates all up and down the main deck. He was wearing none too soon. The two large 50s were definitely shifting their attention to him, and it looked as if the frigates were getting their larboard batteries ready as well.

"Now... as much as I'd LOVE to impress you... and I'm glad you think I'm trying to... I'm afraid this is rather real!" he called to her, and then pulled aside one of the Midshipjacks. "Relay this order to the Quartermasters. I want the ship worn AFTER we fire off a broadside at that first frigate, alright? Wear after we clear her bow, or else we'll be exposed to raking fire!" he ordered. The Midshipjack nodded, and began jogging off to the wheel.

"Thanks for the grenade!" Saumarez called over to her, and reached out to pat her affectionately on the cheek. "I'll let you keep your last one for this! We're going to cut out soon and try and give them the slip... now that we've got their attention. And... just..." he shook his head, smiling. "Me trying to impress you... I'll have to remember that one forever!" he said, taking out another cartridge and prepping it.

Spitting the bitten off top aside, he primed the flash pan and then dumped the rest of it down the barrel, jamming the silver rod down on top of it a few seconds latter and packing it down in there.

Moving back over to the gunwale in a game fashion, he cocked the hammer all the way back. "Alright! Let's make this a good one!" he shouted to her. "Let's start our wedding off with a literal bang!" he drew a bead on what looked to be the ship's Master, and grinned.

They were drawing even now, and both ships rocked under the power of their own broadsides. A total of 144 pounds of powder went off on their ship alone, sending the iron balls of death spinning across the sea and toward their target. They impacted about a half a second later, the range being only a few hundred yards. The Rosferian frigate trembled and splintered, followed shortly after by fragments of flying shrapnel showering down upon the Welkinites as Crescent's mainmast was struck.

The bits were mostly too small to cause any real harm, though it did look rather impressive, like confetti exploding on a New Year's Eve celebration. The damage to the ship was superficial, with more of her rigging and sails being cut up. And the chunk in the mast... though that still stood. Saumarez let the raining fragments blanket him, the small, dust like wood chips coating his jacket as he squeezed the trigger.

Jerking his arm back, the pistol went off, and it was with some satisfaction that he saw the ship's Master immediately clutch at his stomach with a paw, hunching over a little and stumbling over to the mizzenmast to lean against it for support.

[spender]

"So... you are saying, you wouldn't risk damaging government property for me?" Steep tried to stay jovial, but her tone was slipping. This was real. And, somehow, that made it worse than before.

Maybe it was wearing on her. All the smoke in the air, all the soot on her dress and in her eyes. Maybe it was the rolling of the deck, the tragic shifts in gravity. Maybe it was everything altogether, simply getting to her all at once, but she felt... tired.

She didn't whimper, or crouch down and hold her head in her paws. She just rubbed her face and closed her eye, but in that act she betrayed everything she was feeling. All the pain and fear and exhaustion seeped through; she suddenly seemed frail.

And then she was cocking back the hammer of her pistol and the moment had passed. She stood straight, keeping her balance, and fired again into the enemy's invisible crowds on deck. A tiny spray of red spouting up through the mist marked her target. She felt something falling on her from above, some sort of dusty, dry hail. She couldn't figure out where it had come from. The surprise of it all had her gasping, whirling around, looking in all directions. This frantic movement disagreed with her.

Without a sound, Steep dropped her weapons and sank down, leaning her back against the gunwale. Her claws dug into her snout, trying to rip open her scab. She felt Saumarez fussing over her, trying to put his arm around her, and shoved him away.

"Just get us out of here!"

[Ladorak]

Much to his surprise, his fiancee seemed to collapse with that last broadside. It was a good thing they were wearing soon, as otherwise he wasn't sure she could take another pass.

It was clear enough to him that they had more than attracted the attention of all the enemy vessels. Already his ship was wearing, and they too were moving to follow suit. He wasn't sure what his casualties were, but figured them to be light.

As the spanker boom and gaff snapped the driver around to a larboard tack, he saw her sink to a crouching position, then outright sit against the gunwale and hammock rails. "Priscilla!" he cried out, going down and trying to take hold of her. "What's wrong?" he asked before she shoved him away, telling him to get them out of there.

Well... that's what he was technically doing, but at the same time he couldn't completely shirk his duty either, as cowardice was punished severely by his government, Admiral John Byng having been executed by firing squad for failing to properly engage a Rosferian fleet during the Seven Years' War.

They were heading towards Guernsey now, and the two other frigates in his squadron were disappearing around the western edge of the island, safe for the time being, as they could make landfall at the island's main port, St. Peter's, on the other side. He would have to tack back to the east, and then continue to tack until he could make port in that never before used passage. It was a risk, yes, but his pilot had assured him he could steer a 74 through those rocks, much less a frigate.

Saumarez went back to his pilot now, leaving his fiancee temporarily in order to appease her, but by no means was he going to leave her alone like that. "Can you get us through those rocks?" he asked as he approached the wheel.

"Aye sir, should be able to. I've sailed it enough times to know exactly where the shoals are, and if the Rosferians try and follow, they'll most likely touch bottom. Not a chance in hell they know these waters like I do. To them... it'll seem like we're running ourselves ashore to avoid capture, and then, at the last minute, I'll dart us in there." he said, flashing a grin. "Only about twenty feet of clear water on the right, and fifty on the left... but it's just enough for a ship to make it through, provided you know what you're doing."

Saumarez had to paw it to the old salt... he certainly seemed confident enough, and there was no pilot he'd trust more for this than him. Giving him a nod, he gave the order to tack, and watched as the ship swung about again, this time heading almost north and back along the coastline on a starboard tack. They would need to keep tacking as they needed to sail against the wind toward the inlet, but they'd make it.

Already the distant booming of the enemy's guns was becoming more faint, only their bow chasers able to fire, while the Crescent's stern chasers answered in reply. They were all following after him though, no doubt determined to capture him for his brazen attack.

The frigates would no doubt catch him after awhile, but that's only if he stayed out here long enough, and he had no intention of doing that. A master at improvising on the fly, he still felt fully in control of this situation.

Striding back over to her as the Boatswain ordered the ship tacked again, he shooed away a Marine who had taken notice of her and was trying to find out what was wrong, completely unaware of who she was. Sliding down to sit next to her in a highly impromptu fashion, he sighed, and looked over at her. "Too bad I have no control over Rosferian naval patrols. I'm... sorry we had to fight like that on your wedding day. But we're clear now, and making for a secret inlet where we should be able to give them the slip. It's going to be alright now." He said, reaching a paw out and placing it on her shoulder, patting it a few times.

"They're not going to lay a claw on you... or either of us. I only did what I had to to protect the slower ships in my squadron. I couldn't allow them to be overtaken after all... and they got away. They're safe now too." he said reassuringly. "Whatever happened to you back there?" he asked with concern. "Was it your head again... or something else?" he inquired, hesitating before her pulled her head tightly against him and kissed her bleeding scab.

His sailors and officers all found this behavior highly irregular, as their stiff, formal Captain was suddenly something more out of a story book now than the heavy pawed commander he usually was. It caused confusion, smirking, and everything in between, but Saumarez ingored it all, only focusing on her for the time being.

[spender]

"I don't mind the fighting," Steep said. Her voice was husky, thick and tired. One might think she was half asleep; they would be partially correct, in that only half of her was conscious. The other half was distant, hidden from view. Its presence was only known by the occasional flustering fit of convulsions in some metaphorical medical tent. Something needed to be put down, and half of her was the doctor fighting the patient with bed straps.

"It was my head," she assured him. "...Is..."

Steep tucked her head under his arm. Like a kit, her claws scrambled blindly for his sleeve and yanked it to hide her face. She soaked into his warmth, letting her hind legs splay out. Her dress became tangled in splinters.

She wouldn't let herself cry.

"I'll be better soon." She choked, inhaling too much saliva, and clutched Saumarez even tighter until this passed, then finally drew her head out and tried to sit up beside him, blinking in the sunlight. "How much longer is it? Where are my maids—where is Pip? I need to get ready... I'm making such a fool of myself out here... Do we still have to fight? My pistol, I dropped it..."

She was sitting on it; no wonder her rump felt so warm. She pulled it out and placed it on her lap, fiddling with the mechanisms.

"I guess I should clean it. James, I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... have this happen. We won, didn't we? But now I've ruined it. We should be cheering, and I'm trying not to, not to..." She sniffed, smiled stupidly, and then grimaced again.

"Please, may I have a cigar? Something—anything. Rum, water."

[Ladorak]

He held her as long as necessary, making sure he could simply support her in her time of woe. She needed to vent, and let the pain pass. "It won't be much longer. We'll be in the secret inlet soon, and well out of the range of their guns once that happens. They won't be able to follow us without risking running aground... and that they just won't do." he said, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't say we won. More like got them to chase us and not my comrades. Now we just have to get away. We couldn't win against odds like that... but I promise, the next time I take you into combat, it will be a victory." he said, smiling to himself.

"Yes, of course. I'll go get you something." he said, and rose to go and retrieve a drink. "Midshipjack!" he said, grabbing hold of one that was passing by. "A rum for my fiancee if you please. Be quick about it."

"Erm... yes sir. I'll send for one of the Stewards, and he can deliver it." the young officer stated, unsure why he was being singled out for such a menial task, but knowing it would do no good questioning his Captain.

Saumarez watched as they tacked back and forth, drawing closer to the rocky channel. This would be something to see. "Priscilla." he said, pointing. "Look. We're about to give them the slip." He stated, grinning as the Steward brought her her rum. As it turned out, the Rosferians believed they had him. To them, it appeared he was going to run himself onto the rocks to destroy his vessel and prevent its capture, but as it turned out... he had something far different in mind.

They were heading for a passage between the rocks, so narrow that even a fraction to the right or left and they'd be foundering, their hull smashed in. As it turned out, the pilot knew exactly what he was doing, and much to the chagrin of the Rosferians, he "threaded the needle" and brought the Crescent in rather happily, and they were now safe in the bay. The frigate turned a little, and delivered a parting broadside in defiance to the Rosferian ships, who all turned away, not wanting to risk grounding or worse. They had no pilots familiar with this channel, and the rocks to them looked quite dangerous, being close together and narrow as they were.

The rocks to either side of his ship had slightly unnerved the weasel, but his pilot had pulled it off, and they were clear of the shoals now. The weasel breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled over at his fiancee. "Well... we made it. They can't follow us, and we're in. Might you like to change back into your wedding dress by removing the uniform?" he asked. "I can sail us right up to the chapel... and we can get this wedding started." he said, his smile turning into a grin now as he zheeped.

[spender]

Steep supposed she should have been more impressed by their escape. To her, there was nothing extraordinary about their passage between the rocks. While she understood the basic functioning of a ship well enough, the intricacies of their dangerously narrow maneuver was lost to her, and she did not understand why the Rosferians did not follow.

But she trusted Saumarez without asking for clarification, and in the end it paid off. Maybe she would ask later, when her head was clearer, and he could make a little map on the bedsheets, play with her cigars again, and if she was lucky, he would make little explosion noises again.

Steep sipped her rum, paws trembling as she raised the mug. Tilting her head back to quaff it, she noticed the mast and stared, wondering at the missing chunk. So that explained the splinters...

This Navy stuff was just not for her. Things raining down on an honest fighting creature in the middle of battle, things that weren't rain or mortars... it wasn't natural. She couldn't recall anything spooking her as much as that had.

Her tail swept around irritably as the Welkinites "spat" at the Rosferian ships. She had to admire their audacity, but–

"Oh, was that necessary?" she growled, pawing at her head again. "Just when things started getting quiet again..."

She smiled back at him as he zheeped.

"I suppose I will. Ah, just in time." Her maid was poking about, looking for her. Steep stood and waved her over, shrugging out of her jacket. The two jills had a swift conversation in Ferlusanian. Steep spoke much faster than she did with Saumarez.

"Take these things back—no, the rifle is not mine. Is Pip safe and well? Good. Fetch my toiletries, there is scarce time to waste. My fur is a mess! Nevermind the scab, there is nothing to do than to wipe it dry. Try to get this soot and smudge out of my dress if you can."

She dismissed the maid away to first put away her uniform, and then turned to Saumarez. She felt inexplicably guilty for her decisions.

"I am sorry," she said, now in Welkin Common again. "I suppose I should not have bothered to fight—your crew would have done well without me, and now my dress is simply ruined. What will your family think, and all the Welkin admiralty that may attend? I know my own father will simply be amazed I am even standing upright, and any Ferlusan officers he has invited cannot have a lesser opinion of me. I was foolish, James! I did not think... it is not my own standing I must worry about anymore. If this marriage undoes you in any way... Oh, look at me! One-eyed, scab-nosed, half-drunk, soot-stained common weasel... Nowhere here is there a niece of the king of Ferlusan, and no one at that wedding will see her, either. Oh, James, I am so sorry..."

[Ladorak]

"Oh, please! Don't be!" he exclaimed. "My father is dead, and he'd be the only one who'd have the propriety to speak up. My mother wouldn't dare, and I'm not sure how many of my brothers will be there. Please... don't let it worry you. As for the Admiralty, I doubt any of the bigwigs will be there. Admiral Howe definitely won't be, as he's celebrating his most recent victory over the Rosferian fleet, and everyone is mostly focusing on that. It will be a smaller affair... nothing to stress over." he explained, giving her a smile. "Really... it will be fine. Just... make yourself as presentable as you can. That dress is only going to be used today after all." he said, giving her a wink. "If they think any less of us, we'll just laugh it off over drinks tonight."

The ship was heading for the dock now, right where the chapel was. "Well this was convenient! We can sail right up to the thing! Just a short walk to the church, and we'll be there." Although Saumarez wasn't Catholic, he had requested a service in his future mate's denomination, mostly because of her father, and because it was the proper thing to do. His pa would've thrown a fit, but he was dead and buried, so there would be no problems on his end.

"I'll be waiting at the gangway." he said, and retrieved the epaulettes from his pocket and began affixing them to his shoulders. Well he wasn't too dusty... he'd look presentable enough, with his shiny Knight's Cross and gold buttons. As it was, Sir James Saumarez wasn't going to care as much as to how he looked. There was no way she could ruin his standing... he was a Knight after all, and he had been selected for this duty... it wasn't like they had any real choice in the matter. It was going forward regardless. If those in attendance laughed, or snickered, or grinned, or shifted uneasily, he'd do exactly what he told her... laugh it off over drinks.

They were getting closer now, and already he could hear the bells tolling, and the organ beginning to start up. He was a little late, yes, but he figured they could forgive him for this. He'd just extricated his ship from a most dangerous situation, and he'd probably be lauded for it later on.

As it was, they were greeted by a cheering, whistling throng on the dock. Saumarez was extremely popular on his home island, and every time he got into a fight like this, he only furthered his already growing status. Now their Knight was getting married, and it was quite the news on the island. It was seen as momentous, and being the show off he was, the old devil had gotten himself into a battle right off the coast, for everyone to see. He was able to escape and get the better of his opponents, and this was just one more laurel to add to his status. He was a regular small town bumpkin turned hero to them, and they were going wild over it.

He gave them waves as his ship pulled up, and nodded modestly to the cheering crowd. They were all eager to catch a glimpse of his bride to be, and he waited patiently for her at the gangway, whence he would loop his arm around hers, and they could begin the walk down the dock... and thence to the chapel. He was giving them nods, a small smile, and waving his paw, but his mind was focused on Priscilla Steep, and he wanted to move as soon as she was by his side, the better to get them there and get this underway. He didn't dislike crowds, and the familiar faces put him at ease, but he wanted to just hop to it and get it rolling.

[spender]

Steep's maids had been employed by her father for the last seven years. They were trained for this moment. No more pulling their Lady out of the tub and slapping some dress on her last minute to show off to whichever random suitor had decided to show up that day: this was the real deal. It was but the work of a moment to have Steep's fur brushed, her dress dusted off, every last ribbon and tassle fixed in place, and still time for a good-luck nosekiss from Pip (safely in his cage, of course.)

Steep kept her eye on the crowd, hidden behind a gaggle of sailors. Her head was just one of many, allowing her to see and not be seen. She gazed over them, her expression unreadable.

Public.

The word almost scared her.

These were not the aged, cynical creatures of Admiralty, nor the bright-eyed and ragged soldiers of Ferlusan, nor the quiet drifting creatures that swept through her father's manor and kept it clean for the next day. These were the dirty ones, the tick-ridden and sickly; the clockwork fleas, her father called them. The beasts who kept a nation running, kept the cogs turning like a clock. A king without a nation, he said, was just a paw pointing at a number, no reason or meaning behind it.

They cheered. For who? For the ship? For the wedding? For Saumarez? For... her?

She had not faced a crowd since her kithood. The last crowd had been at her mother's funeral. The crowds after that had been in uniform. She was scared—but she was born for this. In another universe, this would have been her entire life, waving back at the crowd, another pretty sickle-necked face on a plump pillow on some balcony or a silk-shadow rumbling past in a carriage. No pain in that other world. No drink. No fighting...

Steep brushed her maids aside and stood straight. Her army boots stomped the deck as she made her way to Saumarez's side.

She put her arm through his elbow, and they descended into a hush. Her eye pierced into them, their open maws and baffled faces. She was clearly not what they were expecting.

"My lady..." the cry from the ship was faint. Steep paused, causing Saumarez to stop as well.

"Oh," she said, raising a paw to her head. With all the seriousness she could muster, she lifted the beret from between her ears and flung it like a discus back onto the ship.

This apparently pleased the crowd, and the volume of their cheering raised itself again. She was not what was expected—she was better. A princess with scars, an army Captain in a pretty pearl dress.Their Knight had found himself a fighter!

Roland Steep waited in the doorway of the chapel for them.

"Captain Saumarez," he said, his old voice creaking carefully over the timbers of Welkin Common, "what a magnificent display! I was set fit to have you hung for putting my daughter in danger in such a way, but I see now—your country has chosen you well. All my doubts, Captain, you have defeated them soundly. Priscilla, my dear, I could not be prouder of you. Not until you grace my world with a littler Steep, that is!"

Only now did Steep blush.

"Paaaaaa..."

Roland winked at Saumarez and stepped aside to let them in.