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Post by spender on Mar 10, 2012 11:39:44 GMT -5
"Don't be a tease," Molly growled. She admired the brief view anyway. When the show was over, she went back to snapping her rifle back together and rested her eyes again.
"Don't suppose I'll get to use this?" she asked. "There's no way I'm going to the fighting tops. I might just... take Tally to the hold and if we get boarded... But of course we won't."
She sighed wistfully, fond memories of her brief pirate life flashing behind her closed eyelids. Only a few boarding raids, but oh! the bloodshed, the carnage, how she missed it so. Now she had a family, and a little mouse to take care of, she couldn't risk such a thing. But at the moment all she wished for was to be able to at all. If things were bad now, she could only imagine what a broadside would do to her balance...
Her fears put to rest by Carrow and Ladorak's explanations, Tally ambled back to Molly's side after waiting a suitable time for the Captain's needs. She was thoroughly spooked by all the movement, and whimpered as her own things were taken away to the hold. While cannonfire was nothing new to her from all the practice and having been camping during the sieges last year, taking the ship apart was something new. Tally didn't do well with new.
"What's your plan again, dear? Run me through it, if you have the time... Tally, listen up. This is what Papa does!"
It should have felt wrong to dismantle parts of the Agamemnon. It should have really bothered Willard, so that he could then tell himself they weren't dismantling her, they were turning her into what she was meant to be! Instead, it was just another awkward lump of wood that was too big for him.
He was looking forward to the battle now, but mostly in the hopes that it would shake him back to normal. Or whatever passed for normal in Willardworld.
The news of their new gun position was mildly irritating. He had not practiced for the upper gun deck. This would put a serious hamper on his Actual Battle Speed Record. He'd had a nightmare about it, once—running up to Caden with the powder only to be told he was late. The nightmare had decided to take it a few steps further, and not only was he just late in delivering the powder compared to the other guns, but the battle had been over. For two days. Two days it had taken him to run up a few decks! After he woke, paws cold and heart beating, he could only laugh at the stupidity of it all.
But still.
It had been a very nerve-wracking dream.
"Yes, sir," he said to Caden. Salt box. Check.
His tail fluffed in minor anticipation as he shuffled backward with the partition. His little white toes sought out the steps leading down to the next deck, one by one, without incident, until finally the piece of bulkhead was stowed away safely.
"Alright," he said, "Now for the salt box. See you at the gun, Seajack Sleet."
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Post by Carrow on Mar 10, 2012 13:50:10 GMT -5
Selvis chuckled. The goanna was quite the master of understatement, it seemed. "Heh, well, you know what they say: many paws make light work. Or lighter work at least, in the case of this tiller," he was unable to resist adding... though he missed the presence of two particular sets of paws, of course. He was missing his pine marten and field mouse companions a great deal, and couldn't help thinking of the times before his friends had been promoted.
Caden had his new role, and so too had Carrow; the longtail wasn't about to hold that against them. After all, he had his own ambitions, and if the shoe had been on the other footpaw and he had been promoted ahead of them, they would no doubt be missing him. They had been more than deserving of their promotions, in his opinion, but it still didn't change the facts: he was having to make some adjustments he was finding slightly difficult. Having Alleline and company around helped a lot, of course, but things just weren't the same.
They were soon on the lower gun deck, and within moments had reached Caden. They put down their load, and Selvis smiled at the albino mustelid's encouragement. It was nice sometimes to know that his work wasn't going unrecognised; in a way, praise from his friends and Ladorak seemed to matter a lot more than praise from others. He nodded again as the next set of orders were given, brightening up visibly as it was announced that they would be moving up to the upper gun deck for the forthcoming battle. As he was in Caden's subdivision, the pine marten would be supervising him, like last time, and the weasel quite liked that - at least that was one thing that hadn't changed.
His pleasure at this announcement was tempered slightly by Caden's announcement that Alleline would not be working on the gun crew with them. He had been looking forward to having the goanna nearby as a Loader, but apparently he hadn't picked up enough in five days to earn that position. Instead, he would be up top. Selvis liked heights, of course... but he knew that the monitor lizard would be in a dangerous place in the upcoming battle.
Selvis wasn't strong enough to take a wall down on his own, so he gladly helped Alleline out with balancing the one he had just dismantled. "Indeed! I rather like this arrangement myself," he said with a wink of his own, before nodding and starting to move off, knowing that with his guidance, the much taller goanna would be able to avoid any potential obstacles he had to deal with because of his impressive stature. He listened to his friend's words as they walked, noting his question about working the tops. Selvis hadn't, but he told himself he'd try to put Alleline at ease.
"I guess you won't, yes. I was looking forward to having you there, but well... maybe next time," he said, trying to put a positive spin on things. "I'm sure that by the time we have our next engagement, you'll have much more experience working the guns. As for your question... no, I have not. I've never so much as been up that high, though I must admit that I wouldn't mind it because I rather like heights," he admitted with a smile. "I'm sure you can imagine what it might be like. Thing is, though, if I were you, I wouldn't get too worried. It's your first time, and being in battle can be a draining enough experience without panicking about other things. Trust me... I should know," he said softly, grimacing a little.
"It's better not to worry, because, like it or not, you don't have control over them, at least not right now. It's best to take things as they come. Just keep your mind on your work, and I'm sure you'll do just fine. You're a diligent sort, and most creatures can see that quite clearly." He turned his head a moment to offer the lizard a reassuring smile, as he couldn't give him a pat on the shoulder or anything similar due to the task he was currently engaged in. "We both know the chances of you getting into difficulty are are slimmer than you might think at this point in time, but you're going to be fine, all right?"
--
Carrow smiled broadly as Ladorak went by him and gave him a pat on the back. Caden seemed to be doing that a lot recently as well, and the field mouse couldn't help but wonder if it was something the pine marten had picked up from his guardian. The rodent had always had two weaknesses: comforting eye contact, and reassuring physical contact such as pats on the shoulder or back. He'd been the recipient of plenty of both from Archie when he'd lived with her, after all.
That was the sort of thing that stayed with him, and the ermine Captain's gentle encouragement bolstered his confidence more than just a little. As a creature more prone to displays of nervousness than most of his companions (except perhaps Willard, who could be set off by some of the oddest things), things like battles and warfare of any kind could leave him feeling rather frazzled. He didn't need that today; while he wasn't sure about all the things he'd be doing later in his new role, he knew he had to be on top of his game.
He was being given plenty of assistance, though, and as his ears perked up at the rat Quartermaster's raised voice, he felt ready to take in whatever the older rodent had to say, without any feelings of anxiety or stress. He'd been in his new role for less than a week at this point, and he was hopeful that these feelings would diminish over time, as the days went by. It didn't seem to him that he had bitten off more than he could chew, and that was as much as he could ask for.
"South-southeast... got it, sir," he responded to the rat's instructions. Right... so that was halfway between due south and southeast. He could picture that easily enough. "We'll be spinning the ship's wheel far to starboard... OK. Far to starboard," he said, a little more softly, as his eyes followed the rat's claw around and around. He had no trouble with THAT either, for obvious reasons. He found that the visual guidance helped him rather a lot.
"A series of six commands?," he repeated curiously, though he could be seen to relax a little as the rat told him that he'd know a few of those already. He wasn't sure what those would be, of course, as he was working in a slightly different area now, but he hoped they'd come back to him once the Quartermaster started guiding him through the process. "OK, that's good to know, sir. Thank you," he told the rat once he had finished speaking.
From what Selvis had told him of his father's experiences in the Ferlusanian Merchant Marine, one either got lucky with those they served under and learned a lot, or got stuck with creatures who weren't interested in teaching others and were left to drown. Carrow was extremely thankful that things were different here, because he was sure that he would still be struggling if he'd been made to serve under creatures who didn't help him out as much as Ladorak and the rat Quartermaster (whose name he had still not learned). He was still quite lacking in self-confidence, and he knew that, so he knew he needed as much help as he could get, from as many different creatures as possible.
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Post by Ladorak on Mar 10, 2012 15:29:29 GMT -5
"There's no way I'm allowing us to be boarded." Ladorak quickly stated. "If we get boarded, we lose." He explained simply. "That 80 gunner has probably twice our numbers... if not more, since I know how much the Rosferians love to have their crews over-strength. "As for using that... not with what I have in mind." he said, eyes suddenly flashing now as a sly smile spread over his face.
"Ahhhh my plan... yes, yes!" He exclaimed, rubbing his paws as they began working on his office now. "I was just about to get into that, as you're probably wondering if I'm crazy or not, taking on a ship that's larger than ours, has more guns, and also has the firepower to match many of our second-rate three-deckers." he said, chuckling a little as he thought about it.
"Well under normal circumstances, yes. I would NEVER engage an 80 gunner. She'd devastate us broadside to broadside... but there's some other things to consider here. First, she's missing two of her three topmasts. Her speed and maneuverability have now been cut drastically. Also... there's a weak spot on every major warship, regardless of her size. That area is of course..." he turned, raising his arm and turning his paw pads upward to indicate the stern of the ship, and all the windows on the back. "Outside of the stern chaser guns, which will soon be mounted, there's very little firepower at the stern of a ship."
"My plan..." He went on, starting to flourish now, acting a little theatrical, "Is once I've tacked in pursuit, to stay right on the Ca Ira's stern. I will then proceed to fall off from the wind to expose our starboard broadside to her, pour a nice, double-shotted one into her stern, and then haul our wind to continue the chase." He veered his paws first to the left, and then straightened them out again to demonstrate.
"Once we've caught back up, I'll fall off again, and once more rake her stern. Hell, I'm even planning to tack every so often to ensure our larboard battery comes into play as well. This ship is nimble and fast, and our opponent is not. We can pull it off whilst our opponent will be hard pressed to try and turn to deliver a broadside to us. It's perfect!" he proclaimed, grinning now. "It'll keep us safe and out of a devastating broadside while at the same time allowing us to pound our foe without mercy. If they DO try and turn, we can turn right with them, and stay on their stern... though I'd like to see them try and turn that thing without their topmasts." he shook his head.
"If the Captain and the rest of our fleet come to our support, I plan on leaving the 80 and perhaps seeing about taking on their flagship... with assistance, of course." he stated with a cautionary nod. "So... impressed?" he asked, beaming. "It's a plan I'm particularly proud of, given our current situation and the fact our only real target at the moment is a ship far superior to us."
He briefly glanced out the stern windows to see who was following and who was being left behind. Three 74s (Captain, Bedford and Egmont, the last from the center division) appeared to be doing a decent job of keeping up with Agamemnon, but the others were falling hopelessly behind. The van division's flagship, the 98 gun Princess Royal, was way off in the distance, and it would be hours by Ladorak's estimate before she came up. That was the weakness of Welkinite second-rates... they were truly second-rate (hence where the term came from) and were some of the slowest sailers in all the world. The Neapolitan Tancredi wasn't the fastest either, but she was ahead of the Princess Royal at least. It was clear the van division was showing up the Calgarians.
The partitions were being lined up neatly against each other down in the hold. There was plenty of room, as The ship was packed with about only two months' worth of provisions, but that was only a third of her capacity after all, so there was still more room than usual aboard Agamemnon for everything. "Yep... see you at the gun." Ocean said to Willard, nodding at him as the weasel went on his way.
He helped Selvis and Alleline stand the last one up, pushing the partition up against the others. "Huh... but we've worked aloft before." Alleline stated, nodding now. "Guess that's really all I'll picture then. A lot of shooting and smoke and being up high." He said as they made their way back up now, heading as a group for the most part to the upper gun deck. Gun number eight, was it? Halfway down the starboard side... almost smack dab in the middle then.
Having ascended three flights, the goanna and ermine headed straight for their assigned gun, and Alleline could most certainly help as an auxiliary for now, assisting where needed. The upper gun deck was under the command of two Lieutenants, those being the Fourth and Eighth. The Fourth commanded guns 1-8, and the Eighth commanded guns 9-13. The Fourth, being senior, was a ring-tailed mongoose whom everyone knew informally as "red", due to the brilliant rust colored fur he sported.
The gun crews were starting to gather all about now, and Alleline figured he'd make himself helpful by occupying the loader spot until their regular loader showed up. "Silence! SILENCE!" the Lieutenants called out, the mongoose indicating he had quite a set of pipes on him despite his diminutive stature.
"CAST LOOSE YOUR GUN!" they both shouted out, the crews quieting down around them now, though it was impossible to get full silence on a warship.
"Spender! Psst! Spender! Could use some help!" Ocean hissed, waving to his brother, who was wandering around in a daze near the bilge pump. Ocean removed the rope from the gun's mouth, assisted by Alleline. The two unwound the side tackles and the rope was passed to the auxiliaries on either side. Ocean began to retrieve his tools from overhead, giving at least one to Spender to help set down on the deck. The gun captain fixed his gunlock onto the barrel, tightening the screws in order to ensure the lock stayed in place.
"TAKE OUT YOUR TOMPION!" came the next shouted order. Ocean yanked out the stopper from the mouth of the gun, tying it around its own lanyard so that it wouldn't get caught in anything. He then nodded at Alleline, and both of them got in front of the gun, beginning to push it backward so that the gun captain could attach the train tackle. With creaking and groaning, the guns were slowly pushed back toward amidships. They were heavy, these 18-pounders weighing close to three and a half tons, but Alleline was a strong creature, and Ocean was relieved to be working alongside him now. Everyone around the gun pitched in to move it in fact. When it could go no further (being arrested by the breeching rope), the crew stopped.
The train tackle was attached to the ring on the back of the carriage, and to the ring amidships. Now, having been pushed to the breeching rope's limit, the gun could move back no further, nor could it roll forward either with the train tackle securing it. "LEVEL YOUR GUN!" the Fourth Lieutenant called out.
This was all Selvis's show from here on, as he was the pawspiker, and his companion would be helping him out. The two had to lever the breech of the gun up so that the gun captain could shove the quoin in there to level the barrel out with the deck. Ocean wiped his brow and took a step back, his job temporarily over with for now until the next command. He took a moment to study his brother, and see just what he would be up to, kicking some sand around his paws in a distracted fashion as he did so.
"Good. You're catching on quick." the Quartermaster nodded. The gun crews out on the weather deck (manning the 12-pounders) were at work to either side of them, and several were being pushed back toward the Captain's cabin in order to set the stern chasers up though the now removed glass windows.
"We just have to wait for the guns to be loaded, then we'll be tacking. Captain's got to have all available paws of the Forenoon Watch for that, after all." he murmured. Everywhere, the ship was being steadily transformed. The last of the Captain's furniture was being taken away down below, and sand was being spread out all around. "Do you miss that kind of work?" the rat asked Carrow now, keeping his eyes on the sails and then on the enemy ship, which they were approaching at an oblique angle.
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Post by Carrow on Mar 11, 2012 16:37:08 GMT -5
Selvis smiled as Alleline responded to his suggestion, quite glad to hear that he had been able to assist the monitor lizard and quell his fears slightly. He looked more relaxed about things now, and that was good. It was really all the goanna could do in his situation, but the longtail knew from experience that having even one thing to ease one's mind during battle was helpful. "Sure, whatever works for you," he replied gently after Ocean had finished helping him and his lizard friend stand the last of the partitions up.
He followed his friends over to their assigned gun. It was the number eight gun, so was going to be almost right in the middle of the upper gun deck. He was still smiling as he sighted the Fourth Lieutenant. The mongoose was a striking-looking creature, and he was also rather good at what he did. Every now and then, the longtail had missed being able to do these kinds of things while on land towards the end of last year, but now that he had gotten back into the routine, he felt ready for whatever today would bring.
Selvis's ears twitched a little as silence was called for, knowing that, any moment now, the first set of commands would be given out. He knew, of course, that he didn't have to come into play until after the train tackle had been attached to the ring on the back of the gun carriage. He kept an eye on proceedings, also keeping an ear out for his cue, curiously studying Spender out of the corner of his eye, noting that the ferret seemed to be sleepwalking through things, quite literally in this case.
There wasn't very much he could do, short of actually going over there and guiding the ferret over to the gun, but he wasn't about to do that. Spender's moods were as unpredictable as they had ever been, so Selvis couldn't be sure what kind of response he'd receive if he tried something like that. He did want to help the ferret out, of course, but he wasn't sure he could actually make much of a difference, as even if Spender did come over to the gun, there was every chance he'd forget what he was supposed to be doing and wander off again.
Selvis had also noticed that the usual Loader hadn't arrived yet, so Alleline was temporarily taking their place. Once again, he smiled, as he was glad to have his goanna companion around a little while longer before he headed up top. He saw that the lizard was quite adept at this sort of work, despite only having been on the ship for a few days. Maybe he was a little more competent than had been assumed? The longtail reckoned his friend certainly looked like he could hold his own.
Once the gun was locked in place, it was his turn to carry out orders, and he rubbed his paws eagerly as he heard them given: "LEVEL YOUR GUN!" He went forward to retrieve his pawspike, watching as his teammate, who this time was a hedgehog, did the same. The way he went about his work suggested he was certainly confident enough - not like the zorilla Selvis had paired up with last time out, on the Orion. He nodded at his spiky companion before they both inserted their 'crowbars' into their respective slots.
Selvis led the count. "One... two.. three!" The two grasped their pawspikes and pulled with all their might, Selvis grunting a little as he put all of his strength into levering the gun. He wasn't sure how strong his hedgehog partner was, but it felt to him like the work was evenly split between them. It certainly didn't take them long to lever the gun's breech up. This seemed to be going better than it had last time. The hedgehog seemed to make up for his small stature with his strength, and Selvis reckoned they'd work well together. Soon, the job was done, the breech levered up as far as was required. Selvis hoped to learn his teammate's name before battle got underway, but he knew that now was not the time for talking.
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Carrow smiled widely upon hearing the rat Quartermaster's praise. "Thank you, sir. I'm doing my best," he said modestly. Not only was he keeping up, but in the older rodent's opinion, he seemed to be doing a good job. The mouse was pleased with this. Even though they would be engaging with their foe in less than an hour, he found that he was getting into a good place now, and this was just what he needed, as he had sometimes been rather rattled by the action he'd taken part in so far.
He nodded as the plan was outlined to him. "Of course, we'll need all the assistance that we can get with something like that." He was looking forward to assisting with the tacking. It'd be something new for him, and his slight worries about the manoeuvres themselves were offset by the fact that he relished being able to try new things.
It was then that the Quartermaster asked him if he missed the kind of work that was going on down below. A pensive look crossed his features for a moment as he gave thought to the query before responding. "The thing I miss most about that kind of work is being down there with my friends and being able to help out with whatever needs to be done. Things like that help to build camaraderie after all, and it's taking me longer to adjust to my new role than I thought it would, in that respect.
"While I miss that sense of togetherness that that kind of work brings, overly physical work like that has never exactly been my strong point, and so, while I enjoyed doing that sort of thing down below, there were times when I wondered if I was cut out for it. Maybe this kind of work I've been doing as a Quartermaster's Mate suits me better; it's too early to tell, but it seems that way.
"Added to this, I rather like working with you, sir," the field mouse told his superior with a small smile, "but there are some times when I wonder what it'd be like to still have my old job. Don't get me wrong: I'm happy in my current career, and have enjoyed the few days I've spent in it, but I still have some adjusting to do, and that's more for personal reasons than anything else. I'm still getting used to the new arrangements, you see," he explained. Not matter how much the mouse enjoyed what he did now, he still missed his friends. He didn't feel lonely out here, but he couldn't help but wonder when he'd be able to see his companions again today; it all depended on how the forthcoming battle went.
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Post by spender on Mar 12, 2012 10:55:27 GMT -5
"I'm not wondering if you're crazy," Molly said demurely. "I know you are... you married me, remember?"
She quieted down to listen as Ladorak layed down his strategy. It was interesting, but a little more than she could concentrate on with her head spinning so; and her stomach even more. Her limbs felt weak and trembly from lack of food. It was not at all the kind of discomfort she was familiar with—not since the long Imperium winters as a fishmonger.
Molly tried to smile as he finished.
"I'm impressed," she admitted. "You almost made that sound like our second date." At least her sense of humour wasn't impeded. She glanced at Tally, who was watching the crew moving about intently; the mousemaid did not appear to catch the meaning of what Molly had said.
"How much longer now? Minutes? Give me your paw..." Molly reached for his paw to haul herself off the floor along with her completed rifle. She let him take most of whatever weight didn't want to be put on her own footpaws. "I'm fine," she said, before he could ask. "I'll be fine... I need some adrenaline. Won't be as bad once things start. I hope... Come, show me where I'll be watching from."
Willard had a little song. It went something like...
"Little rubber slipper Slip on right Got no buckle so we tie you tight Gonna go into the magazine Where there's no light To get an ammo box for the fight Little rubber slipper You're so snug Don't get messy from stepping on bugs!"
Half of the tune was "God Save the King", and the rest was Willard's own arrangement, which he tentatively titled "Ode to Wearing Shoes". There was nothing quite as good at cheering him up as putting on his working slippers, his first and only pair of footwear: even after nearly freezing to death Christmas Eve, he had refrained from buying boots. They just looked so expensive.
He was fourth in line to collect the salt box. This slightly upset him, but he knew it was only because he'd taken an extra few seconds to make sure the slippers were tied very carefully, and that had allowed less careful creatures to get ahead.
"Don't trip," he warned them. "Be careful!"
He was up next! His paws tingled. His tail fluffed to its fullest.
Times like this, it almost felt like home...
It was Burton who gave Spender the necessary shove towards Ocean; the ferret stumbled, only just barely managing to stay upright as his footpaws tangled together in the sand. He accepted the tool from Ocean, and following the stoat's movements, managed to put it on the deck with the rest.
His smile had faded, leaving his mouth hanging open in confusion. He was too frazzled to be startled by the Lieutenant's shouting. Instead he simply spun around slowly, trying to figure out who was making all the racket. What was a tompion and what was he supposed to take it out of? They started to move the big black thing, and Spender jerked forward to try to touch it as well. It was in place before he could figure out what direction he was supposed to be pushing. Then another shout, and two of the group began to stick stick things under the black thing. Spender glanced briefly at the rest, who were standing aside.
He thought very hard about the best thing to do. Action, or inaction? It took him a while, but eventually he reached down to grab the tool he'd been given earlier, and going down on all fours, tried to jam it under the cannon, just as Selvis and the hedgehog were rising from the task.
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Post by Ladorak on Mar 12, 2012 11:12:55 GMT -5
"Right this way." Ladorak said, having hauled her up to her paws. "My station is always on the quarterdeck, so that's where you'll be." he told her.
"Hmm..." he pondered a moment. "I'd say... about... forty to forty-five minutes or so. We need to complete our tack first, and catch up with them a little. It seems we'll be receiving support from at least three other 74s... so I'm hoping that works in our favor." He said, though at this rate, it seemed the Rosferians had a preponderance of heavier ships at their rear. It was smart... having the flagship drop down like that. Brave and smart. It would act as a deterrent from mounting a concentrated attack with smaller ships... which the Welkinites were doing. Still, Ladorak was undeterred. He would be getting that 80 gunner today... nothing was going to stop him.
As the gun was leveled, the gun captain was able to insert the quoin, sliding the wedge to its halfway point, and nodding for the pawspikers to let down the breech now. It settled evenly, and the gun level with the deck.
"LOAD WITH CARTRIDGE!" came the next order. Caden closed his eyes to think a moment. What to tell Willard? They were going for a double-shotted broadside, as far as he knew... but only for the starboard battery, from what he'd heard from the Fourth Lieutenant. The larboard battery would just be a single shotted broadside.
"4.5 pound charge!" Caden called out to Willard now, remembering that a double shotted broadside had the same powder usage at close range as a single shot. The rule was usually to give the gun a quarter of what the shot weighed at close range. So in this case, it was 4.5 pounds. 6 pounds for long range, as they took a third in that instance to be fired the longer distance. Caden was glad he could effectively remember what was needed for the 18-pounders, as this was the first time he was working them. As for distance... Ladorak had indicated to the Lieutenants that he intended to close distance and make it almost point blank before firing... hence the lesser amount of powder needed.
He almost moved to stop Spender from jamming what appeared to be the sponge under the gun carriage. "Belay!" he shouted out. Stupid ferret! His starter was in his paw, but Ocean moved swiftly, and held up a paw to steady Caden, his other lashing out and grabbing the implement before Spender could make use of it. He wrenched it from the ferret's grasp and set it back down on the deck. "Needed help with moving the gun... not that." he muttered.
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"Aye, it's a lot of physical work, yes." the rat nodded. "It's always good to be in physical shape though for working at sea... as even Quartermasters need to be strong to keep the ship on course in a heavy sea. This wheel can easily throw a grown beast if the rudder suddenly gets shoved hard over." he cautioned. "You'll find yourself being pulled up and launched over the wheel as it spins violently... though we try to have as many as four Quartermasters working the wheel in rough seas in that case." he explained, to put the mouse at ease. "It's best to let go if you feel you're about to be thrown... the wheel will spin, yes... which could damage the masts and sails as the ship whips about but... don't fight it if you feel it winning. Call for assistance, and some will surely be given. As said though, we almost always have enough Quartermasters working the wheel in rough seas to prevent that."
"It gets lonelier the higher up you go." He explained now. "Less crew to work with that way. Captain's always the loneliest job, as unless you have your wife on board like our Captain here, you always dine alone. Still though... good answer, though I'd still try to stay fit if I was you." he stated with a wink. "No use getting all comfortable with this... you're going to need plenty of strength to turn this wheel in a heavy siege."
The guns in front and behind them were being loaded with cartridge now, as that order had just been given. These light 12-pounders up here would be all but useless at long range, as they'd usually bounce right off the side of a ship unless at close quarters. As close quarters was exactly what Ladorak was going for, they were being prepared for battle just as the same as the upper and lower gun decks. It was point-blank where they had a real field day. The 12-pounders could be used as anti-personnel guns at that point, unless of course one was fighting a ship considerably bigger than your own, in which case you'd have a whole gun deck or two above you.
"Once the guns are loaded on both batteries we'll be tacking." Ladorak informed them as he moved by to take his post, relieving the Master from commanding the ship. "Once that's all complete, we'll be set up and ready to go."
One of the seajacks in the filling room saw Willard approach the wet canvas curtain now, and shouted behind him to the Gunner. "Willard Waters, sir!"
"Willard Waters... that's Fugate's subdivision so... they're on the upper gun deck." Horace stated. "4.5 and 6 pound charges!"
The seajack nodded, and slid the appropriate salt box forward. It contained one 6 and two 4.5 pound charges, as closer range was expected for this fight. He held it out for Willard to take through the wet curtain, as the powder carriers weren't allowed to enter the filling room.
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Post by Carrow on Mar 13, 2012 14:20:57 GMT -5
Selvis smiled at his hedgehog teammate as they carefully let down the breech, giving him a small pat on the cheek; he couldn't go for an encouraging shoulder pat as he valued his right paw and didn't want anything to do with a hedgehog spike-related injury so close to their battle. Well done, he mouthed, and the praise was acknowledged by a small nod and the return of his smile. Clearly, the only thing prickly about the hedgehog was his body; his temperament was just fine.
The weasel guessed, from the amount of powder that would be required, that Ladorak was planning to engage the enemy at quite a close distance. He also knew that the four-and-a-half pounds of powder that the albino marten Midshipjack needed would have an effect roughly four times its weight, and that would be quite useful at close quarters, especially as it seemed the ermine Captain was planning to engage the Rosferians at almost point blank range.
His attention was caught by Spender's efforts to help with moving the gun, and he shook his head as he heard Caden shout 'Belay!' Selvis's fellow mustelid had the starter in his paw, and while he couldn't be sure if his friend would have struck Spender had it not been for Ocean's intervention, the facts remained: the ferret wasn't helping. Quite the opposite in fact: he was hindering proceedings, only this time he was blissfully unaware of what he was doing.
Ocean's timely response made the longtail wonder how long it would be until Spender actually did get punished for not following orders. The situation the ferret found himself in was unfortunate, but rules were rules, and sooner or later Spender would face repercussions. None of this was really his fault - his one-night stand and betrayal of Polly notwithstanding. He couldn't help any of it, but Caden, and the rest of the higher-ups who dealt with the ferret needed to be seen to run a tight ship; Selvis knew that, regardless of Spender being unaware of himself, there couldn't be one rule for him and another for everybeast else. That wasn't how things worked around here; whether or not one meant to break rules or obstruct work was irrelevant.
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Carrow looked thoughtful as he listened to the rat Quartermaster's words, and he couldn't help but gulp slightly as he was cautioned about what could happen to him if the rudder suddenly got shoved hard over. He'd need to try his best to keep control of things, if ever that happened, but knew that he was in no position to do so now, as he wasn't exactly the strongest of creatures by any margin. There wouldn't be much he could do in that case except try and judge when to let go.
If he was thrown hard enough, he'd more than likely end up dazed, or even be knocked out, and he couldn't have that. He relaxed though as the Quartermaster told him that he'd have plenty of assistance in rough seas. All the same, he'd really have to start working on his balance... just in case. "OK. Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to do that if I get into trouble. There's no sense in taking a risk like that, especially when one's a creature my size. I'll do my best," he promised, nodding.
He resumed listening as the rat told him that the higher a creature rose through the ranks, the lonelier it became for them. For Carrow, who had enlisted aboard the Agamemnon precisely because of the friends he'd made, this was a rather sobering thought. He wasn't entirely sure about his prospects of eventually making Quartermaster, in any case, so he figured he'd just see how things went. It wasn't like he was completely cut off from his friends, after all.
He smiled as his superior winked at him and advised him to keep fit. "Oh, if I was 'comfortable' in my current position I'd know something was off, sir!," he responded, returning his fellow rodent's wink. "It's not really the sort of career one can get 'comfortable' in, in that sense, or so I've heard. I see it as a challenge, and I've quickly learned that it involves different kinds of work, both physical and otherwise, than those which I used to do before I took the promotion.
"Don't you worry, sir. I feel about as fit as I've ever been, and I'll work hard to maintain that. I'd like to think I know a little bit about what the job requires in terms of physical ability, but regardless, I'll always try to do my best. I like working in this career, and that's motivation enough for me, I think," he assured the older rodent. He wasn't even trying to convince himself; the field mouse knew this to be the absolute truth.
His attention was caught by Ladorak as he told them that they would be tacking as soon as the ship's guns had been loaded. He nodded at the mustelid as he passed by, offering the ermine Captain a smile and a salute. "All right, sir. I'll be ready." He was wondering what it would feel like for him to supervise the ship in this manoeuvre; it was his first time, and he hoped to do well. What the mouse lacked in experience, he was planning to make up for in enthusiasm
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Post by spender on Mar 14, 2012 9:19:24 GMT -5
"A good while, then," Molly said, nodding. "Tally, come dear. Is Carrow at the wheel?"
Tally nodded, suddenly grinning.
"Then let's go visit. I need some fresh air anyway..." Dreading though she was, Molly let Ladorak lead them to the quarterdeck. At first it was not so bad—she almost managed to distract herself from the queasiness with the simple act of moving around. But then it caught up with her. She grit her teeth and put on a brave face for her mate and his crew. She couldn't be seen to be weak, not now.
Tally wriggled her rump in a little dance upon climbing up to Carrow's level. She pulled away from Molly and Ladorak and went to stand beside him, where she rocked back and forth on her heels and studied what he and the Quartermaster were doing.
Willard tromped back up to the upper gun deck, chest heaving with exertion. A near twenty pound box was nothing to scoff at for the little weasel. He could lift up to fourty, fifty with care and leverage, but carrying something up several flights without a real proper workout beforepaw was tiring—but not too tiring! He vowed he could do it all day if need be. It was when your muscles felt their worst that you were doing your best.]
He set the salt box down beside the gun and popped it open.
"Four-point-five, sir," he grunted, taking the charge out to pass (delicately) to Caden. Or whoever he was supposed to pass it to. Willard knew, even if his author was a bit thick about it all.
The weasel shut the box and plumped himself down on it. He scratched at his ankles; the slippers were a little irritating. A small clod of white fur drifted off the outside of his leg. He glowered pensively at it: Great. He was beginning to molt, then...
Spender's lip trembled. It seemed he was going to cry—suddenly the center of attention from the gun crew, he at least understood the newest outburst was in direct correlation to his actions. He didn't know just what it was the fluffy white marten had been about to do, nor why the fluffy white stoat had stopped him and taken away his sponge.
But instead of crying, the ferret again dooked, low at first, then stuttering into awkward laughter. His eyes were still sad, however, and his mouth did not curl back into his old smile. He tugged at his breakfast neckerchief nervously.
"I—I'm s...sorry, Buh-lay," he said to Ocean. "I j...just don't know wot w...went wrunng." He sniffed as something began to drip out his nose. Despite the laughing, it seemed Spender really was crying. "Wot duh I duh...? I jus' wanna hullp. I wanna go s...sailing."
He looked to the hedgehog, to Selvis, to Caden, Alleline, Willard, and all the others on the crew, as his eyes misted hopefully.
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Post by Ladorak on Mar 14, 2012 10:57:24 GMT -5
The regular loader who normally worked the number eight gun, starboard battery, showed up just then, much to Caden's relief.
"Excellent! 4.5 pound charge, if you please!" the marten ordered, upon seeing Willard arrive shortly behind the loader, who retrieved one from the box (it wouldn't be Caden, as he had to command several guns).
The loader (an otter who was also a marine, as they often times helped work the guns) took his place, Alleline moving to work as an auxiliary for now, and slid the cartridge down into the barrel, pushing a wad in afterward and stepping back to allow Ocean to ram it home. The ermine did so, shoving the ramrod into the muzzle and pushing the wad and cartridge back with several good jabs. He then pulled the ramrod out, and set it down on the deck as the gun captain yelled out "Home!" once he thrust his copper wire into the vent to see if it came out black.
Ocean studied Spender, noticing that... despite the fact it didn't look it, his brother was crying. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to do. There wasn't time for this! They were less than an hour from engaging the enemy! Weakness like this simply wouldn't do.
Caden, for his part, looked away from the ferret the moment he felt his eyes upon him. He was too busy, after all, and he didn't exactly have the greatest of pasts with Spender, and as far as he was concerned, Spender deserved this for all the terrible things he'd said about him and his family in the past... and for breaking his wrist. Let the ferret squirm... watching him act like a worm on a hook was at least vindication, or so the marten felt. He really had no sympathy for Spender anymore, as all his previous efforts to befriend the ferret had been in vain, and all he'd gotten was abuse piled upon abuse over the years. Maybe later... when there was time, he'd see what he could do, but not now.
"SHOT AND WAD YOUR GUN!" the Lieutenants shouted.
"Double shotted broadside everyone!" Caden yelled out to the several guns under his command. "Double shotted! We need two shots in the barrel! Two shots!" he held up his claw to indicate the number.
The otter picked up one 18-pound ball, rolled it into the hole, then took a wad from his assistant, stuffed that into the muzzle, and repeated the process, placing another 18-pound shot with a wad on top of that in front of the previous shot and wad.
Ocean then rammed the destructive package down, pushing it until he felt no more give, and then pulled back and set the rammer back down on the deck.
"Switch over to the larboard battery! We'll get that one prepared as well!" "Red" shouted out. As there was still time before the engagement, the crew now moved to the opposite side of the gun deck, and in a matter of five minutes, the guns on the larboard battery had all been made ready as well, having been cast loose, leveled, and loaded, though they weren't double shotted, as that was typically an opening broadside tactic, and there just wasn't time.
"ALL FORENOON WATCH UP ON DECK! ALL FORENOON WATCH UP ON DECK FOR TACKING!" the Boatswain was shouting down now. Excellent timing, as the guns were now prepared and ready for firing. Caden started shouting down below, as it was partly his job to keep up the messages, and soon, they were all heading for the companionways.
"Hey... Spender..." Ocean said as they climbed the stairs. "Come on... we are sailing. You just need more training... that's all. That was my fault... I shouldn't have called you over to the gun crew... as you aren't even technically supposed to be working them now. You're going to be out here during the battle... OK?" he asked, motioning to the weather deck as they moved out into the daylight.
"Remember how you'd pull on the big lines to move the yards back and forth? That's what you'll be doing if we tack or wear. So just listen for the command to 'haul', and when you hear that, starting pulling... but keep your paws planted, OK? Don't step back or you'll run into the crew behind you. You're working the mainmast, so you'll be on the quarterdeck.
"Ready about! Stations for Stays!" Ladorak called out the command, and this was the order for everyone to take their positions. The Boatswain shouted it out much louder, delivering the orders to the crew standing about him.
"READY ABOUT! STATIONS FOR STAYS!" the marten Boatswain shouted. Caden worked his way aft, toward Ladorak on the quarterdeck. Ocean clapped Spender on the back, and walked with him toward the quarterdeck. "Just get in line like you always do... like you've been doing the past few days, OK?" he asked. By now, Spender should have gotten the commands down, but in his state... who knew? "I'll be right behind you... won't be going aloft until after we tack." he clapped Spender on the back again.
Gunfire suddenly erupted in the direction of the 80 gunner. Ocean turned his head to look over his shoulder and see what was going on.
The Inconstant was delivering a second broadside as she passed by the Ca Ira now, which was currently under tow of the frigate Vestale. Unfortunately for Captain Fremantle, he had arrived only a few seconds too late, and the larboard battery of the Ca Ira was now unmasked, having been cleared of wreckage only moments prior. The big 80 gunner shook as she unleashed her own broadside, and the rigging of the Agamemnon jiggled a little from the force.
The Inconstant heeled over with the weight of her opponent's broadside, which left three of her crew dead and fourteen wounded. One shot holed her below the waterline, and this caused Captain Fremantle to put his ship before the wind and beat a hasty retreat. "Bloody hell..." Ocean murmured, shaking his head as he got in line with the rest of the crew to begin hauling on the lines.
Ladorak too shook his head. Too bad Fremantle... though he had to commend him for his zeal and ardor. The intrepid frigate captain deserved praise, and Ladorak would make it a point to speak with him afterward if he could. However, Fremantle and his gallant little ship were now out of the fight. It was Agamemnon's turn now.
"Captain!" Caden called out, approaching him now. "What's the plan, sir? How are we going to stand up to that thing?" he asked.
"By tacking back and forth behind her, falling off, then hauling our wind, then tacking and tacking again. You'll see! Don't worry! I have no intentions of going broadside to broadside with her Caden! It'll make your job of aiming your guns harder, but... you'll catch on soon enough I'm sure." he assured his ward. "Ready! Ready! Ease down the helm!" he passed the order on to the Quartermaster and Carrow, looking right at them.
"OK... start turning the wheel to larboard." the Quartermaster said, beginning to turn it in his direction (he being on the larboard side of the wheel). "We're going to turn to starboard, or fall off from the wind. Just a little bit though... this is so we can gain a bit of speed, as we need to be going fast to tack."
Behind them, on the poop deck, the gaff and spanker boom were starting to be hauled in amidships, in order to allow the driver to be filled for as long as possible before it would swap sides over to the larboard side of the ship (for a starboard tack, which they were heading to).
The ship was starting to gain speed now due to Carrow and the Quartermaster having let the ship fall off a bit, and now came the turn. "Helm's a-lee!" Ladorak shouted at them, and the rat nodded.
"That's it! Jerk the wheel as far to starboard as it can go! All the way over! All the way over!" the Quartermaster ordered. They were now going to use their momentum gained to turn right into the wind... and provided things went correctly, pass the bow through it, and come out on a starboard tack, on a heading of south-southeast.
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Post by Carrow on Mar 15, 2012 13:54:19 GMT -5
Selvis was a soft-hearted creature, when it came down to it, and even if he found it hard to show sympathy for Spender most of the time, he didn't like seeing others in distress when their position wasn't entirely of their own making. He'd felt himself bristle slightly at first, as it had sounded as though the ferret had actually begun to laugh, and he'd considered simply ignoring him as it had appeared nothing had changed about his fondness for disrupting work, but soon it became apparent that he actually was crying, and Selvis paused for a moment to consider what had just happened.
He, too, looked away when he felt Spender's eyes upon him, though he didn't immediately avoid the ferret's gaze. He seemed more unsure of what was going on than anything else, which explained his hesitation. For the life of him, he couldn't think of what to do, so he didn't do anything. Extenuating circumstances, namely the upcoming battle, prevented him from turning his mind to Spender's predicament. Right now he neither had the time nor the patience to assist him, and those were the facts.
The longtail hadn't had a good relationship with Spender back when he had been his old self, and seeing that the ferret still struggled to recall who he was didn't help; neither did the fact that, thanks to his condition, Spender's mind was now even more sieve-like than before. He considered trying to assist him later on, if he even got the chance. He knew not how long the upcoming engagement would last, after all. Neither did he feel like anything he could do would have an effect, so he simply let it go for now, as it wasn't too important to him anyway.
Instead, he busied himself with his work, and a few moments later had successfully levelled a gun over on the larboard battery as well. The work was filling him with enthusiasm about the upcoming action, and as the crew received the call to head up the companionway to the quarterdeck, he felt his tail stand straight up behind him, a clear indication of his excitement. He briefly wondered how his field mouse companion was getting on. It'd be nice to see him again, if only briefly.
They were soon up above, but before Selvis could head aft, his attention - and that of Carrow's - was caught by the sound of gunfire. Both their heads turned, and they looked as curious as each other about what was going on. The mouse was momentarily stunned by what he saw, as the Inconstant's broadside was met by the full force of the Ca Ira, and his jaw dropped as he saw the devastating effect it had had on the Welkinite vessel. That ship was now out of the fight, and the way it had been knocked out of proceedings startled him slightly.
The Rosferian ship was an imposing sight, but Carrow soon snapped out his daze, certain that Ladorak knew what he was doing and that he would see the ermine Captain's plan come to fruition later when they finally engaged with their foe. The mouse was pleased to see that his friends were back up with him - particularly pleased to see Caden as he knew he'd see next to nothing of the albino marten for the duration of the battle - and he waved and smiled at them as the spotted them.
Selvis was delighted to see that the mouse looked to be enjoying his work up here, and he returned his wave and smile. Of course, he didn't know how desperately the mouse missed the atmosphere down below; the field mouse hadn't found himself fully capable of opening up about that just yet. Carrow, meanwhile, had a job to do, and the presence of all the creatures he had been missing fired him up further, and he was determined to do his best with it.
He made direct eye contact with Ladorak as the ermine gave the order, fur rising on the back of his neck as he was told that they were ready to begin tacking. He nodded as the rat Quartermaster gave him the first instructions, noticing that he was helping him a little by starting to turn the wheel to larboard. He made sure to increase the momentum, using both paws and a push-pull technique to turn the wheel. His relative lack of strength was compensated for by his vigor.
The rodent knew he needed to be listening out for further commands, and his reaction speed was impressive as Ladorak gave the next command. He was swift in responding as he heard the Quartermaster's voice in his ears, changing direction and putting considerable effort into jerking the wheel over to starboard. He wasn't sure how many times he'd need to do this during the day, but he knew he had to go for it in executing this manoeuvre. He guided it all the way over, as instructed, but wasn't sure when exactly to let go, so he looked to his superior for further guidance. He'd taken advantage of the ship's momentum, but had he done it correctly?
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