Thread: The High Seas (Safehold and Lemon)

Old Glory, resplendent here as a massive battle ensign, flew from the mainmast in the increased wind, a perfect blessing. Moores trap was sprung. This pirate was in for the long-drop, there was no doubt about that now, lest in that schooner the bastard had managed to squirrel away about thirty more cannon than he was obviously capable of hosting. Running wasnt an option either. Endeavor was herself a fast corvette, and shed have no problem making an intercept here. He guessed the pirate to be headed at a speed of about 15 knots, and with this wind he was going to pull 18, maybe even 20. He smiled as the cannon on the port side was run out in preparation for the fight. Gun captains barked orders at their well-trained crew and, with a signal relayed up from below, the ship was ready for combat. A few moments passed as Moore considered what this latest catch would mean. The third pirate on this tour, hed made the mistake of fighting. All that would do was kill some of his men with gunpowder and splinters, instead of a few days of decent meals before the inevitable appointment with the rope. Moore wondered what the captain was thinking. Surely he did not think he could actually win. But the black skull and crossbones banner flying proudly from the yardarm showed that maybe he did. Foolish. Perhaps, somehow, he did not realize he was up against a warship of the United States Navy? Or had not realized it until it was too late, and simply resolved to go down fighting? Moore neither knew or, really, cared. Once battle was joined, reason, and all real plans, went out the bilge. At the ready, boys! Stand fast! He peered through the spyglass. As expected, the pirate was not unarmed. While some true amateurs of the Caribbean plied their trade with sword alone, and sometimes that was good enough for the average unarmed merchantman, the more successful of the buccaneering business made sure that all but a full-on-warship could be subdued, because the most valuable cargoes were often protected by a fair bit of gun. Well, my fine piratical friend, Moore thought, grinning as he peered over her fairly heavily-gunned main deck, noting about twelve sizable cannon that would probably mean this fight wouldnt be settled immediately, now you are up against a full-on warship. You are up against Endeavor , and if you know whats good for, that black flag is going to get hauled down faster than you and your friends will, God willing, drop when the hangman pulls the lever. It was then that Moore felt his stomach turn. Not over the now-visible amount of blood that was present on the pirates decks, or over the clear not-inconsiderable armament he possessed, but over the presence of one person. A woman. He could see her now, as prepared for battle as any of her comrades, but with her sex as clear as the black flag fluttering in the wind. This was problematic. He lowered the glass and adopted a pensive naked-eye gaze. There were all kinds of new considerations now. While she would surely hang like the rest, if inevitable events came to pass, Moore fully intended to transport his prisoners in humane condition to the rope. Rape was now a threat, on the part of his men and this woman. He would have to account for that in addition to guilt over potentially killing her. Silly girl. Damned pirates. But there was nothing to be done about it now.