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| Jonathan_Morgan
Posts: 1,511 Status: Duke Karma: +250 [+1] [-1]   |
Subject: The Arival of Morgan | |||||
| The Carmaican Sea often saw little combat from fear alone. Fear of the powerful Arelian Navy. Besides her massive, well equipped and trained army, the Royal Arelian Navy was a source of fear, not because of her commanders, but her ships. The most powerful of them were armed with the pride of the gun makers; 24 pounder long guns. These cannons could blast a twenty four pound ball with twice the force of Outer Veilian cannons of the same make. Traditionally, they fired bar and chain shots in to rigging of other ships, and then the sailors would storm the disabled vessel. On the bow of the more powerful ships they had what the Army had come to known as The Hands of Boudicca, the queen ho instituted the weapons. Though the Navy knew the weapons as Mannanan's Wrath. They were massive fifty pound guns that could blast a load of grapeshot four miles on the calmest of seas. Only three vessels had the weapons, the Caroline II, the Molly, and The Grace of Mary. Unfortunately, The Grace' had turned rogue. The crew mutinied against her captain, and taken command of the ship. Though she held no allegiance to the Crown any more, they still sailed under the Arelian ensign. They pillaged and razed the coasts of Westland in the name of Arelia. "All hands on deck! All hands on deck!" The command rang out like a cannon blast, and the ringing bell like blades. They shattered the still morning air of the sea. The crew fell out, literally, their bunks below deck. Rushing up the ladders to get topside, they found the Officer of the Deck, the First mate already armed with around ten pistols on their person. On the horizon there were to ships. Both had odd ensigns, one was a sparrow on a crimson field that as tattered and in desperate need of retirement. The other was slightly more majestic. It did not sail towards them, but came from the east towards the other. It boar the blue purple field with a stone tower. The Arelian ship fired a greeting shot to their ally from the Westland Provence of Icarus. The boatswain blew his whistle just before the firstmate called out again. "Captain on the Deck!" The crew snapped to attention and turned to face the bridge. A relatively short, though strong featured man walked out of his cabin in his red Arelian uniform. His short brown hair was slightly messy, stated he too had only just woken. "Mr. Giles, what have you to report?" His Westland accent showed in his voice with pride. "We believe it's Sparrow, Captain Morgan. The Duke of Icarus sent post early in the morning stating that we had permission to engage in Icarus waters if they may join in the fight. I presumed you would agree, and replied accordingly, Sir." He handed his brass spyglass to the captain. Taking it, the Westlander brought it up to his right eye and observed the sparrow crested ship. "You know me well, Mr. Giles." He said smirking slightly. "I welcome my old countrymen, and say we should sink this slave trader to the bottom of the ocean. He was allowed to leave on Asher Isle when the army had it's chance..." He collapsed the spy glass and returned it. "MAN YOUR GUNS!" The crew let out a resounding "HUZZAH!" "Oh, and Mr. Giles..." "Aye, Captain?" "Send word to that rogue de Marin that this Storm Dweller fell to a seadog." He grinned as his officers laughed. "Aye, aye Captain." The Westlanders were the first to open fire on Sparrow. They of course were behind the times as far as naval warfare went, or it was just that particular ship. The ship itself was an old long boat, armored with shields and armed with ballista and catapults. They had launched a massive flaming ballista bolt, which hit it's mark on the side of the ship with a resounding WHAUMP. Though it was not exactly a fatal hit, the ship would have caught fire within minutes. Or it would have if it were not for a large wave cresting and dousing the flame. "Mr. Elis" Morgan called to the second mate who was manning the helm. "Bring me to that ship, Mr. Giles, unfurl all canvas, and have the hands at their guns." The white canvas sails beat the wind as they fell from their furled positions. The wind soon filled them, bringing the ship forward at 30 knots. (Around 32 MPH). The cannon covers were lifted, and the cannons loaded and rolled out. Sparrow's ship took no notice of the Arelians speeding towards them. They had already unleashed a punishing broadside. Many of the Arelian sailors removed their cover, knowing that the longboat would have sunk to the bottom of the sea. It was to everyone's surprise when the smoke cleared and water settled, the majestic dragon headed ship was still afloat. It was dented, and bruised, but no one was harmed. "My God..." Mr. Giles muttered. "They're wood must be the thickness of six foot steel." Captain Morgan withdrew his spyglass and fixed it on the Westlanders, trained particularly on the captain. "No...it is enchanted. I recognize the captain, he's a mage." He lowered the glass as they came parrall with the enemy vessel. "OPEN FIRE!" Mr. Giles echoed the command. "OPEN FIRE!" And then the second mate Mr. Elis. "OPEN FIRE!" On the third fire, eighteen cannons let loose a blast of iron. The shots ripped through the hull of the ship, and chain and bar shots tore in to the rigging. One of the enemy sailors was caught on the neck by one of the chain shots. He decisively lost his head. It was later learned that it was the first mate. There was little left of the masts after the punishment from the Arelian guns. The Storm Dwellers left the Westlanders, that shield was impenetrable and the catapults and ballistas were useless against their ship. The crew changed sides to fight with the Arelians. The cannons were rolled out of their storage places and quickly, though poorly, loaded. When they were fired, the inadequate powder amount hardly gave the right amount of force. Though it still caused railing to splinter, and the mizzenmast to fall over from the several shots that hit it. The two ships continued to exchange cannon fire, with neither ship sinking. For a brief moment, on the bridges of both ships, Morgan's eyes met Sparrow's. They exchanged looks of hatred for each other. It was then that Morgan gave the order "Bring us about, Mr. Elis." "How close sir?" "Boarding distance." Without hesitation the second mate spun the helm, turning the ship sharply and bringing it closer to Sparrow's ship. As they neared, the Arelians let off one last broadside and abandoned their guns. They took to the store room for their small arms. Armed with pistols, cutlasses, boarding axes and blunderbusses they swung over to the enemy ship. Others ran across gangplanks that were set up. A furious battle ensued between the slavers and Royal Arelian Sailors. The officers of both ships kept to the bridge of their respective vessels, observing the battle. It was not until Sparrow drew his broad sword and rushed down the ladder to the main deck that Morgan tossed his hat and coat to this first mate and drew his cutlass. "CEMPT TRAL BROCHAN DE CEBLIE MANNANNAN!" He yelled in Arelian, meaning 'Send these dogs to Lord Mannannan', as he boarded the enemy vessel. He spent no time with formality, dueling with the enemy sailors, he simply killed those in his way if they were in mid-duel, and shot others if they came near him. Sparrow was showing the same lack of mercy to the Arelian sailors, with seven of them having already fallen to his sword. A pistol shot stalled Sparrow as it drove in to his left arm. "Have a death wish, small fish?" Sparrow yelled, squeezing his arm trying to get the bullet out. Morgan gave no reply as he cut his way towards his opponent. Just as both raised their swords, the ship shook again as cannons blasted and struck with tremendous force. Every sailor was distracted, looking from where the shot came from. An exceptionally large vessel, flying Arelian colors, sailed towards the two ships. Front cannons were smoking as they were being reloaded. The silver letters glittered on the starboard bow. ''The Grace of Marry'' was almost ready to fire again. "Had to send for help, small fi...." Garreth Sparrow gurgled his last words and sputtered, blood spilling out of his mouth. Morgan had not waited while the slaver started to gloat, and slit his throat with a swift swipe of his cutlass. "Back to the Darling!" He yelled to his crew, the slavers starting to scramble from fear now that their leader was dead. As the crew of the Darling turned and reboarded their own ship, the Grace fired again. The shots fell short, splashing in to the ocean. The Darling sped forward, ready to engage the treacherous ship as it began to pull away. The loyal Arelians perused the traitors with out hesitation. The chase took the two ships up the eastern coast of the Westlands, neither one stopping for anything. Days turned to weeks, and finally after six months of pursuit The Darling was forced to stop and take on provisions, and repairs. It came to a disgrace to Captain Morgan, who wanted the head of the captain of The Grace. They were welcomed to the Port of Helios, where the crew went ashore until the ship was repaired and restocked. Jonathan Morgan, in particular went further inland, knowing his old compatriot, Fintan de Marin lived the forests of Helios. |
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