[Ilphi]

Hiya everyone I've really been enjoying writing a short story called "Dawnfast" recently. I hope some of you get the chance to take a look at it and tell me what you think. Thanks.

(Forgive the erratic paragraphing. This is an attempt to break it up for internet reading - the proper version has a margin but I can't post that because ExIsle doesn't let me do HTML in posts)

I'd appreciate anyone taking the time to read this.


* * * *

“It had to happen to you.” The stern faced Marshall noted, striding up and down in front of Lando’s cell. Dust rose gently from his boots as he paced on the dirty floor and his fingers slowly caressed his jewel encrusted sword hilt.

“I didn’t start the fight.” Lando said quietly, leaning back in the cell with an ill deserved casual air.

“Don’t give me that.”

“No, it’s the truth. I’ll admit I threw a punch or two, but that other guy was the one who began the brawl.”

The Marshall pulled up his belt. “Andre,” He told Lando. “Is something of a town bravo; Flaunts what money he has, but money buys influence, and now he’s sitting in the magistrates office with a broken nose. The situation does not look good for you.”

“He insulted the Lady I was with, and as a gentleman I felt I should defend her honour.”

The Marshall shook his head slowly and for the first time looked Lando over. He was a sorry sight, he thought to himself, at the ragged but desperately patched up cloths he presented himself in, and the rusting scabbard which was presently missing its confiscated sword. He had a long thin face, hair neatly arranged despite his other appearances and properly cleaned. “You Sir are a hired blade; and the ‘Lady’ who accompanied you tonight is far from that title.”

“I know her past, but she ignored mine and I hers. Your bravo made a comment about her I didn’t care for, I told him to back off, and it spiralled from there.”

“Andre has influence with the court. For striking him you would probably have been hanged.”

“If I were of a more dignified profession I would be treated with the respect this matter deserves and-”

“-By God Sir, if you were of a more dignified profession you would choose your company more carefully.” There was a pause as both sides summed each other up the others positions. Lando looked at the Marshall’s polished leather boots, his ornamented scabbard swinging slowly by his legs and his neatly trimmed moustache. “We’re not talking about a duel here, this is a bar room brawl, nothing more.”

Lando thought back over the conversation. “You said I would have been hanged. What will happen then?”

“I have been approached by a Lady from one of the ships currently moored in our harbour.” The Marshall said. “It would seem she is looking for men of your profession with reasonable skill.”

“You mean she is after hired blades.” The Marshall nodded. “And I’m flattered you consider me of reasonable skill...”

“Even the most arrogant of you wouldn’t strike someone as clearly important as Andre without at least some confidence in his ability with the sword.”

Lando took the compliment for what it was. “And this Lady is willing to pay my bail?”

“On the condition you work for her immediately.” Lando frowned a little at the restrictive arrangement.

“I would very much like to know what kind of work I would be getting into.”

“Nothing dishonourable I’d imagine; she carries the broach of the Duke of Calliope. Well respected lands around thirty leagues across-“

“I know of them.” Lando interjected. He may not have expected to come through this favourably but he recognised when he had the upper hand. The Marshall had already talked to this Lady and he had some room to move in now. “Calliope is in league with the Gaian people. He is nothing more than a puppet to them.”

“The Calliope royal bloodline...” The Marshall replied sternly. “…Has remained entirely pure despite over a hundred winters of amiable relations with the Gaian people. Don’t be so quick to judge them if they choose their allies wisely.”

“Hmm, well they certainly don’t rank very high in my books. Okay then lets just get on with it, let me out of this cell.”

“So you agree to the conditions of your release?”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“As I suspected,” The Marshall jingled the ring of keys slightly before selecting the appropriate key and opening the heavy iron lock. The door swung open and hit the side of the stone wall with a clang, followed by Lando being guided out into the main area.

Lando paced along behind the Marshall noting the rows of cells he passed. Plenty of people were held behind the great iron doors; ragged, poor, rich, anyone and everyone was under lock and key. He walked up the steps into the courtyard of the keep.

Four large walls enclosed the dusty courtyard area. Behind him were the steps leading down to the cells, and casting a large shadow over sand was the striking magistrate’s office with its tall towers and clean stonework. Lando raised his hand to cover the bloated sun hovering maliciously in the clear blue sky as his eyes once again got used to the sunlight of the outside world. He was led slowly to the magistrate’s office, a towering colossus of painted wooden beams, stonework and arrow slits giving it the appearance of a keep from some angles. He was led through the large wooden door, underneath a port cullies and into the main chamber.

It was a large hall, spread out and could easily seat thirty men. Flickering lanterns provided the illumination as once again sunlight had been largely shut out from the room. This one was in a better state of repair than his cell at least, he thought to himself, despite the stuffy air. The Marshall led him over to a high rising dark wooded table with a tapestry cloth draped loosely over it, the stitch ware seemed to depict a charging horse but the creases made it hard to tell.

The Marshall had reached down and collected his sword which he passed to Lando.

“You really should look after your sword more…” He rubbed off a bit of rust with his wrinkling thumb which fell to the floor in sprinkles.

Lando took the sword handle and made an elegant gesture with the sword, testing it as it sliced through the air effortlessly. “It does what I want it to do.” He let the sword slide into his scabbard at speed with practiced bravado.

“Well, now that I have the ‘ole blade back, is there anything else you have of mine? I can’t exactly remember, being rather light headed at the time…”

“Don’t drink so much in future if you want to remember the night before.” The Marshall replied in a patronising tone. “I took what little was in your wallet and gave it to Andre, call it compensation.”

“Am I released from your custody now?”

“For the time being,” The Marshall tweaked his moustache with his fingers. “However long you stay in Gullgrove though keep your nose clean. I might not be so willing to ‘part exchange’ you next time.”

“Part exchange,” Lando thought through the statement. “What did you get in return?”

“Goodbye Lando.”

The Marshall turned his back and strode down the hall with his hands tucked behind his back. Lando smiled slightly and walked outside. Several yeomen had begun practicing with wooden swords in the courtyard, dressed in long dark green gowns bearing the heraldry of the region. Lando paused to watch the swords clap together before the Marshall came out and began barking corrections to his yeomen’s posture and swordplay. Lando lost interest and walked outside through the main gate.

The merchant city of Gullgrove spread out in front of him like the world on a platter. The Magistrate’s compound was on top of a hill, and the steep cobbled streets extended downwards and as they ducked the crystal sea bobbed up and down beneath that, crystal and shimmering in its movements. Ships of all variety rose up and down as if they were resting on the belly of some blue skinned giant; a topsail schooner with the wind rustling its sails headed out past the stone rise walls into the open sea. The city on the hill beneath him was bustling with activity as people flooded in between the cracks of the urban tangle of buildings, mostly modern with wooden beams diagonally across the front and white painted plaster filling in the plethora of triangles created.

“Do you carry that sword for more than decoration?” Lando’s quiet reverie of the free world was interrupted by a melodically female voice behind him. Upon turning he found its owner was a long haired woman leaning back idly on the sandy outer wall of the magistrate’s compound. She had long flowing blonde hair and wore a tight dress embroidered magnificently around the edges. Her face’s features were curved and re-assuring, but her eyes carried a stern resolve to him behind their green hue. He also noted the amethyst encrusted broach of Calliope on her dresses lapel and a straw hat casting a shadow over her eyes. “Do I pass your inspection then?” She continued after waiting patiently as Lando’s eyes slid over her.

“Yes, I mean, Sorry.” Lando blinked and realised his mistake. “I should have answered you first.”

“Don’t be.” She said, standing up and straightening her back. He realised, much to his dismay, that she was actually slightly taller than him. “We all judge people; Inspect them like canvas for sails. Would you like to know what I see of you?”

Lando recovered some of his confidence and re-asserted his relentlessly boyish attitude. “Sure, why not, everyone else around here has.”

“I see a washed up mercenary, I see someone who possesses a fair skill with the blade but who which no-one has paid seriously for in a while. I see a man running low on funds, who drinks his cares away and socialises with brothel girls and calls them Ladies.” She tilted her head in a mock quizzical fusion. “Would this be an accurate inspection?”

“Go to hell.” Lando’s cheeks had flushed a deep scarlet red. He had heard ten times worse from men, but somehow there was a deeper effect when coming from a primly dressed woman. Besides that, he realised the truth of it.

The woman gave a sharp laugh and began pacing around him. “If there is one I’ll probably be going there, but you’re not religious, are you? No, I wouldn’t think so.” She stopped behind him. “I want to hire you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“My money could solve a lot of your problems.”

“Work will come. In less neatly wrapped packages I’ll grant you, but it will come in time.”

“You don’t have a lot of choice in the matter.” Lando made a deliberate effort not to turn around and look her in the face. “Unless you want to get very well acquainted with a rope knot, that is.”

Lando grimaced. This woman was everything he was to other people; rude, curt, and abusive and spoke with an inelegant degree of candour. But what choice in the matter did he have? He would have to go along with this or he might as well walk straight back into the courtyard and climb onto the wooden trapdoor of the execution post. He turned to face her and looked her straight in the eye.

“Name your terms.”

“At least two seasons hire, just you, one small piece of hand luggage allowed, thirty gold pieces upfront and one percent of total profits earned, you’ll be moving sea bound away from Gullgrove port so you’ll need to tie up any loose ends.” She informed him in a quick monotone. “Do you agree?”

“Sure, why not?” He continued in his false air of casually ness but he had the feeling his new employer could see through it.

She began walking down the cobbled street and motioned for him to walk at her side. As they walked they passed street shops, horse drawn wagons carrying people and goods and smoke rising slowly from street side vendors. The population of Gullgrove caricatured their reputation perfectly offering all manner of shoddy goods and rotting fruits from their stands but the Lady, despite her obviously rich and noble heritage, seemed unparsed by it. As the smoke from a blacksmiths blew across the street towards them, Lando felt he could almost guarantee not one sooty trace of it would land on the woman in her pristine white dress.

“My name is Josephine Morrison, as you may have noted I am a Calliopean royal. In this case I am here in a proprietary role as the owner of the brig Dawnfast. It’s currently moored in Gullgrove port and I’m here searching for the crew.”

Lando had listened to this explanation and nodded. He guided them down a side street of the city where less people would overhear them. As the cobbled streets narrowed the building around them seemed to loom menacingly but fewer people walked on the streets. A clatter of horse hooves echoed down the buildings followed by the rolling of carts wheels along the grooves in the dark stoned floor.

“I see. And why do you choose me?”

“I won’t go into the details, but we left our home port in the Calliope waters unprepared and didn’t have time to assemble our full crew or collect all our supplies. The fact of the matter is that I only stopped here to pick up mercenaries to bolster the number of able fighting hands aboard the ship.”

Lando stopped walking and looked Josephine in the face. Her wide rimmed straw hat cast a shadow and a tall bread house blocked out the sun. He couldn’t read her eyes, but her visible mouth was twisted into a faint and confident smile.

“Why me?” He asked bitterly. More of his true emotions, so carefully concealed behind his gaudy act, came through in his wavering voice. “Go into any tavern and you will find ten blades ready for hire. And they wouldn’t be in trouble with the local constabulary.”

Josephine shrugged. “Because maybe I needed someone who, and you’ll perhaps pardon the oxymoron, but who was an honourable mercenary.” Lando hadn’t had Josephine’s clear elocution lessons or education, but he got the meaning of her point. “When I heard you had struck a noble for insulting a whore,” Lando winced at the candid description. “I knew that someone who would defend such a woman’s honour would be the man I needed on board the Dawnfast.”

He continued walking, accepting her explanation, for now. Whatever the truth of the matter, he thought, she was right; he could certainly use the money. “So what is the Dawnfast going to be doing that needs mercenaries? Do you need some protection for cargo?”

“Nothing so humdrum,” Josephine reached into her pocked and pulled out a neatly tied up paper scroll. The seal had already been broken but he noticed the ornamented wax bore the mark of the Gaian Royalty. “Do you listen to rumours, Mr…? Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your second name.”

“Scabbia,” Lando replied, shooing away a rag clothed beggar boy.

“Right, Mr Scabbia, do you listen to rumours? In the city – in the bars – do you listen to the merchant ship crews talking? If you did you can’t have failed to notice them talking about pirates.”

“Well there have always been pirates.”

“True, but not these pirates; calculated, planned attacks, executed with military efficiency. Mostly a good four thousand nautical leagues East of here, at least, but they have been striking more and more recently. They have even been so bold as to attack Gaian shipping.”

Gaian’s. Gaian’s again, Lando thought to himself. The world will fall apart if anyone angers the Gaian’s. “Oh, heaven forbid that anyone attacks the Gaian’s.” He replied in heavy sarcasm. “May the pirates rue the day they cross that line.”

“Not really.” Josephine replied, seemingly un-phased by his sarcasm. “The Gaian navy is weak; mostly composed of Sloops and Cutters, and not enough to have any serious influence outside their own waters. I have noticed there is no love between you and the Gaian people, however.”

Lando straightened his back, and his voice took on a harder edge that was easily noticeable in contrast to his usual attitude. “My father was killed in the War of Affirming.”

“Doesn’t concern me,” She continued. “However you must be aware the Calliope people have got on very well with the Gaian’s.”

“Yes.” Lando replied with pursed lips. “We’ve noticed that.”

“You believe we should have sided with the other Duke’s in the War of Affirming against the Gaian’s? I remind you we didn’t fight for the Gaian’s either, but remained neutral during the conflict.”

“Everyone knows Calliope is strong. You have at least two thousand well equipped and trained troops that could march any time and one of the largest navies of all the Eastern Duchy. You could have made a difference out there on the Helios plains.”

Josephine shrugged. “What we did or didn’t do now is irrelevant. But as I mentioned earlier these pirate attacks have struck on some Gaian shipping – which they desperately need since their navy is still so small – and because of the co-ordinated nature of these attacks its unlikely they are simple bandits. They don’t have any ships to spare to stop these attacks, and even if they did-“She laughed slightly. “I doubt they would be up to the task.” They stopped again as she stroked the scroll she had removed earlier. “So in these situations it falls to the Calliope, possessing as you so eloquently put a fine navy, to step into the breach as friends of the Gaian’s. Do you know what a letter of Marque is?”

“No.”

“It is a commission – a license, if you will – granted by a state to a private warship and its owners to capture and confiscate ships of another nationality.” She passed Lando the scroll she had removed. He glanced over the Gaian seal, sensed what was coming, and rolled out the paper.

“Be it known…” He read slowly on the letter. “That in pursuance of an act of the Royal Gaian Court passed on the twenty-sixth day of Spring one thousand five hundred and six winters, I have commissioned, and by these presents do commission, the private armed Brig ship called the Dawnfast to the burden of three hundred and nineteen tons, or thereabouts, owned by the Duke of Calliope mounting eighteen carriage guns, and navigated by one hundred and twenty-nine men, hereby authorizing Gare Abloson Captain, and Lence Bramore Lieutenant of the said Brig and the other officers and crew thereof to: Subdue, seize and take any armed or unarmed vessel under the sovereignty of the Pirates, public or private, which shall be found within the jurisdictional limits of the Gaian Provinces or elsewhere on the high seas, or within the waters of the Gerne Straits.”

“And each captured vessel with her apparel, guns and appurtenances, and the goods or effects which shall be found on board the same, together with all the Pirates persons and others who shall be found acting on board, to bring within some port of the Gaian Provinces.”

“And also to retake any vessel, goods or effects of the people of the Gaian Provinces, which may have been captured by any Pirate armed vessel, in order that proceedings may be had concerning each capture or recapture in due form of law, and as to right and justice shall appertain.”

“The Gare Abloson said is further authorized to detain, seize and take all vessels and effects, to whomsoever belonging, which shall be liable thereto according to the law of Nations and the rights of the Gaian Provinces as a power under siege.”

“By the Emperor of Gaia, and Aino Mallira, Secretary of State.”

Beneath the names at the bottom were scribbled signatures in heavy black ink. Lando rolled up the script, passed it back, and then walked away. He strode away, but turned back, his hands rummaging through his hair.

“You hired me.” He said, slowly getting angrier. “You hired me. Not the Gaian’s, not their secretary of state, you didn’t say anything about me working for the Gaian’s!”

“You won’t be.” Josephine replied calmly. Her face was, as ever, unreadable. “You will be working for me. The contract I have with my employer doesn’t concern you.”

“My Father…” Lando began. “My father was killed on the Helios plains! By Prince Gerne’s attack plans as well, to be sure, but the sword that ran through him was from a Gaian hand!”

Josephine shook her head. His finger was pointed at her, Lando was getting more and more worked up, but she sensed he had become set in his ways. Yes, she was fairly sure this routine had been well rehearsed. “Cut out this knee jerk Gaian hatred.” She said firmly. “It’s not going to win you any friends. The War of Affirming was fifty years ago, I think it’s time for you to move on. How many Gaians’ did your father kill before he was himself killed? It’s the only truth in war; people die.”

Lando frowned deeply. He would still be indirectly working for Gaian’s. Josephine removed a small pouch from her belt and tossed it to him. “But as I said before, you must be honourable to defend your fathers name with such…zeal.” She shook her head and nodded towards the brown pouch. “There is your thirty gold pieces, up front as promised. The Marshall’s keeping an eye on you so don’t try to run away – not that I believe you would anyway – and we’ll meet down on the dockside tomorrow morning. Tie up any loose ends you need before we set sail. Have you ever been on a prolonged voyage before?” Lando shook his head. “Well I’ll explain more tomorrow, but you’ll probably need that money to buy your relevant wares.” She smiled briefly and began to walk off.

Lando sighed and turned around as well in the opposite direction. This arrangement didn’t suit him but maybe she was right, the War of Affirming was a while ago. He didn’t fight in it; maybe he shouldn’t get so passionate about it. And as he said the fault wasn’t all Gaian’s, Prince Gerne who his family was loyal to at the time devised a catastrophic battle plan which ended up marching his father’s brigade into an ambush. For the moment he was still free, maybe he could just take the money and leave? The Marshall and his yeomen can hardly be in all places at all times and he should be able to slip out of the city. Then again, Josephine called him a man of honour; he couldn’t remember the last time he had been complimented. Not after he had paid for it, at least.

“Oh, and one last thing,” He turned around to find Josephine about twenty paces away from him. “For God’s sake buy a new sword before we raise anchor.”

And with that Lando was left standing on the cobbled streets of Gullgrove alone, glancing over his rusting and aging long sword. “Why the hell does everyone have a problem with my sword today?”

[dataport]

hey I liked it, the sword line at the end was just perfect, I think its a great start! r ya gonna post more?

[Ilphi]

^

I'm working on another chapter and have 10 planned altogether. Its sort of going to be a long short story, lol, maybe about 30,000 words by the end.

Thanks very much for the nice comments

[Brit]

I liked it too and would be interested to read more. Should we assume that Lando is at least 50 years old, I would have thought him a much younger man

[Ilphi]

^

Hmm! Thats a toughy! I hadn't thought of that Maybe his father was really old... Here's Chapter 2. If anyone has any feed back I'll take it on board, i have 3 dedicated readers and two agree the opening to this chapter is somewhat slow, but it picks up at the end.

PS Sorry about the seemingly random paragraphing, as before my copy has a ruler and indents and stuff like that that doesn't favour well to copy + paste.

Hope people are still willing to read it! I'd be very thankful if you did.

* * * *

Lando was there, on the dockside, the next day as promised. He found himself leaning on a lantern post and gazing out over the Gullgrove port. Immediately commanding his attention were merchants dressed in long blue robes, rich judging by the stitching an embroidery on their edges, loading up a small Barque ship with barrels. They would be sailing east probably; he thought to himself as one trader threw down the fore sail at its mizzenmast. He spotted a single cannonade on the front of the ship and his mind drifted, pondering over their possible future, No, more than that; his possible future. He hadn’t seen the Dawnfast yet as Brig’s were too large to moor directly to the dockside but the thought of going into naval combat didn’t ease his mind. He didn’t tell Josephine, but not only had he never been on an extended voyage before, he hadn’t even been out of sight of the coast yet. The Barque in front of him, square and fore-and-aft rigged with long sweeping sails, would it even come back intact?

Still, he had had enough money last night to comfortable sleep in the well renowned tavern Skylark’s Dream. He had had a good meal, first in a while, but had trouble sleeping in the densely packed beds. He had to confess that with so many layers on these beds to cover him with he wasn’t sure which two he was supposed to get in between. And he had kept an ear pricked at the talk of the bar, an inevitably most of the sailors conversations turned to the pirates. It’s funny how you don’t notice what they are talking about unless you really try to, or just dismiss it as normal seafaring talk, he considered. Yes, he had heard a lot about the ‘Beasts of the East’, and the ‘Daybreak Raiders’.

Was Josephine late? No, can’t be. She didn’t strike him as that type. He leaned forward taking his own weight again and glanced around the dockside. It was well constructed, a promenade a good few metres above the sea level. Behind him was a larger stone wall which from the marks it had acquired looked like the sea had flooded up to a few times; darker green lines cutting into the pale white rock. Circling seagulls squawked loudly over head and Lando looked down at his shoes, and the small bag he had managed to compress his entire former life into.

“Good Morning!” Josephine called loudly. He looked up to see her walking down the lower street towards him, a wind picking up into her so she had to had to keep a hand to stop her customary straw hat blowing away. She was in another finely made dress and as she approached him inhaled loudly through her nose. “God, I love the sea air, don’t you?”

“The ocean zephyr...” Lando considered. He sampled some of the air himself, deep, salty, and somehow moister than air further towards shore mixed with the undeniable smell of seaweed and sand. “Not bad, if you like sea salt.”

“It’s the best way to preserve things; the Dawnfast’s galley uses plenty of it.” She replied, looking over his bag. “Yes, yes, this is fine. Have you ever been shopping, Mr Scabbia?” Lando shook his head. “A ship doesn’t just leave a port such as Gullgrove without stocking up. She produced a crumpled parchment from her own bag and brushed some hair out of her eyes. “Four barrels of beef, four hogsheads of pork, firkins of butter, cheese...”

“I get the picture.” He interrupted. “Don’t you have crew on the Dawnfast to do that sort of thing? Come to think of it, just where is the Dawnfast?” He made a wide gesture with his hand across the harbour. “I’ve had a little time to look, and I couldn’t see a brig nearby.”

Josephine leaned towards him and pointed out into the distance, past the high rise stacks, where the ocean blended effortlessly into the blue sky. “It’s the third one out...” She commented, guiding his finger to the silhouette. “Past the risen sun, keep going, there next to the sloop… with a rigged square on the foremast and fore and aft with square top sails on the main mast.”

“Oh, right, I wasn’t looking all the way out there. You could bring that in a lot closer you know, and then you could have all the crew help you here on shore.”

“Oh, that’s not really the best idea.” Josephine shrugged and leaned back on the lantern post. “The borders surrounding these waters are fairly well protected, by umm, Prince Ramdon and his militia if memory serves – you’ll have to forgive me haven’t called in this way before – but still a ship moored in port is in real trouble if something goes wrong. More than that, if I moor and let my crew go dirt side, you know the story...some get in trouble, some find a better deal, some...” She imitated a crewmember and deliberately moved her head from side to side comically and spoke in a high pitched voice. “Oh, sorry Milady, but I met this special girl last night that I absolutely-must-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with.” She dropped the act and laughed. “Before I know it I leave port with twelve dozen stockings more and a dozen crew less. No better for them to stay where they are for now.”

Lando frowned. “That’s rather harsh.” He imagined himself locked inside a small brigs gun deck, having sailed for weeks on end. He found himself getting a little too involved in the fantasy; all at once the conditions came to him, the odour of dried sweat from sleeping men, snoring, yelling, and eating. Not for the first time he considered the possibility of running away, but for now he resigned to try and champion their cause since he would be living among them soon enough. “You could consider giving them a small break-“
“-You better get used to it.” Josephine interrupted in an austere voice. Damn, Lando thought, that woman can practically read my mind. “The crew can’t get squeamish about living conditions now. Nor can you. I haven’t explained your position in the crew yet - I’m sorry – but you will be at the level of a warrant officer, higher than the seamen. Most of them are used to command structure now being able seamen after a good few winters of service, but it’s important for them to see a strong leadership. There’s no room to question orders in a battle situation.”

“Fair enough, fair enough, but how many weeks have you been at sea?”

“Doesn’t matter,”

“So you’re saying have been at sea for ‘doesn’t matter’ weeks and the crew haven’t had more than, what, one hundred feet from stem to stern?”

“The Calliopean seamen needs discipline man. If we’re pinned down behind some Barquentine’s broadside, the crew needs to be well trained. Loading up a grape shot instead of a round shot could mean the difference between life and death and that comes with discipline.” She paused, considering her situation. Then she carried on in a faster and slightly angrier tone. “Anyway, what am I doing justifying this decision to you anyway? You won’t get much of that – justification of orders – nor do you have any right to expect that. But for the record, there are lines that Captain Abloson and I are careful not to cross when it comes to discipline. But anyway,” She checked her temper and motioned for him to walk alongside her. “Come on. God this sea air is annoying sometimes.”

Lando smirked at her new outlook and followed her along the promenade as they talked. Flocks of seagulls darted and dived in formations around them, parting a fond farewell to the ships going windward out of port. They slowly walked up a stone slope on a low gradient to the more developed areas of the city, turning away from the coast into the market areas. As a stark reminder against Lando’s alternate courses of action, they also passed the execution square.

“So what’s the plan for today then?” Lando asked.

“Well first you’re going to help me with the shopping list to speed the whole process along.”

“Oh.”

“First, well, I want you to go to this address…” She handed him a piece of paper, with the scribbled address: Fifteen Sullivan Alley. “And pick up two pieces of canvas for hammocks.” Lando looked at her with pathetic eyes. “Well, they will be used for your beds, so unless you don’t want anywhere to sleep that is!” Josephine answered his gaze. “I’m picking up two new crewmembers here in Gullgrove, and we just don’t have enough hammocks.”

“Who is the second person?” Lando asked suspiciously.

“Why, now that you mention it, turn over that parchment.” Lando turned over the crumpled paper to reveal the other side. ‘Warrant Issued,’ it read. ‘Against the buccaneer Owen Corcoran. Wanted for crimes against the following Dukes…’ The list went on for a considerable time.

“This is an arrest warrant.” Lando informed her in a tone of mock helpfulness, flapping the paper in his hand.
“Correction, it’s an ex-arrest warrant. I had the Marshal negate the strength of it.”

“What? Why? Look, just - you don’t want this kind of man aboard the Dawnfast. Seriously, I know his type.”
Josephine looked at the document. “He hasn’t been involved in any illegal activities for many winters... he made his money doing the pirate run, granted, but now he’s just tried to play down his old life.” She replied to him testily. She was rapidly loosing patience with his incessant questions. Oh, she couldn’t blame him, she supposed, he wasn’t used to a military tradition and only ever fought on his own; but his constant quibbling and fault finding in her plans was getting her annoyed.

“Oh, and I’m sure he’ll be ever so pleased when you ask him to join your ship. What are you, a one Lady press gang?”

“Have you ever sailed east? The coastline is a fractured wasteland the further east you get. Fjords cut deeply into the sides of the coastline, and endless archipelagos trail from the shoreline. Straits of jagged rocks can rip into your ship – and don’t even mention the fact that the time we sail there it will be approaching winter... cold...snowing...foggy!” She threw her arms out towards the harbour. Lando realised she hadn’t come to this decision without a fair deal of pondering herself, and for once he considered he should just keep quiet and let it pass. “Do you see the sea? It’s big! Biggest bloody thing you have ever seen. And where we’re going, there are lots of coves, and.” She stumbled over her words. “And...And valleys, and harbours, and gulfs, and just about everywhere imaginable to hide a small squadron in! We need a guide, someone who has had experience in pirating along the East Coast. The people we need for this mission might not be pretty but they are who we need.”

She breathed deeply, and massaged her forehead with her fingers. “God, you know, you make me mad sometimes. And I’ve only known you two days. Get your hammock cloth and anything else you need, and then meet me by the Skylark’s Dream tavern at the start of the forenoon watch.” She looked at Lando’s blank look and sighed. “That will be the fourth major bell ring of the day.” She thought of something else to say but bit her lip and decided against it. Instead she walked away quickly mumbling and climbed up steps briskly to the Open Market Square.

Lando swore and wished she would control her temper. He kicked a nearby pebble into the sea in frustration and followed her path up into the open markets. Not good, he considered, whole weeks aboard the ship with that woman? No, no, maybe she wasn’t that bad he considered. After all, he was bugging her and rudely dismantling her plans. Maybe she was well tempered once, but all this exposure to the Gaian’s had changed her. He still wasn’t happy about working for Calliope. He considered them lazy, cowardly, and sheltering under the protection of the Gaian’s. He thought back over the history he knew to compose an articulate argument against them the next time he was backed into a corner about it: around fifty winters ago, war broke out between the Gaian superpower and the Duchy of Autumn. Doesn’t matter how war breaks out, they just do somehow.

No side was honourable, and no side was villainous. Seven of the nine Dukes and Princes of the Duchy immediately formed a political, economic and military alliance against the Gaian’s, including Prince Gerne whom his father served under. Calliope abstained from the war wanting to remain neutral. The alliance fought the Gaian’s hard for three years, which in its own right is a remarkable achievement considering each of the Duke’s armies on their own were a fraction of the Gaian’s forces, and they were working together with seven separate leaderships – but eventually they were defeated. Somewhere along the line Prince Gerne had mounted a suicidal attack.

Lando moved through the town as quietly as possible, only stopping to ask for directions to Fifteen Sullivan Alley. It was fairly obvious as he wandered into the naval section of town which followed the rim of the harbour. The buildings became smaller and narrower, squashed together to fit more lodgings on the same street. Seaborne references were everywhere, in the shop names, even in the colour schemes; predominantly blue and pastels. Wide streets were replaced with small alleys that fractured and twisted likes cracks in a giant rock. He eventually found the rigging shop and explained his needs to the old, grey haired shop keeper who nodded knowledgably and found some appropriate material.

“Ah: you new to sailing, aye?” He discerned after a few minuets in conversation with Lando. He spoke with a deeply influenced accent, the kind that must have come from years of service on a ship.
“Yes.” He watched as the old man threw two pale coloured strips of sail canvas over his shoulder and walked to the counter with them. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, aye ‘an to be sure.” He measured the canvas against a notching made with a crude knife against his worn wooden counter. “These two fit your bill well, but I’ll do you a favour and let you roll them up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Roll up your own hammock, I needs to see how tight you can get it, so I do.”

Lando stood indignant for a few seconds but realised there was no malice in the sail merchant’s request. He rounded his shoulders in a perfect care-free shrug and rolled up the cloth fairly loosely into a bundle, tying together two laces the shopkeeper had provided. He stood up and the old man walked around to the floor where his bundle was, quickly squatted down – something Lando would have guessed he wasn’t capable of given his age, but his joints were obviously well exercised in youth – and tried to fit the hammock through a brass hoop he carried in his watch pocket. He couldn’t get it through, so stood up and told Lando in no uncertain terms it would need to be a lot tighter.

“In battle,” He explained. “Hammocks are rolled tightly and lashed along the ship's rails to protect against musket fire and splinters. Boson's mates check the tightness of each rolled hammock every morning with a regulation sized hoop, and don’t be on the receiving end if your hammocks not through the hoop.”

He had to admit he wouldn’t have known this unless he was informed. “Thanks for the advice.” He told him in a truthfully grateful manner. He tied the cloth together tightly and placed them under his arms.

“Oh, don’t ye mention it, no don’t bother.” He walked back behind the counter. Lando walked back outside and considered asking around for a little more advice of this nature, but the half bell before the forenoon watch tolled loudly. Several times, in fact; it was easy to hear near the harbour as all of the larger docked boats echoed the call. He had obviously wasted a fair deal of time wandering the winding streets of the naval district and doubled back his steps into the main part of town.

This time it was Lando’s turn to be late for an appointment, and he hoped Josephine had calmed down since their altercation that morning. She seemed in a better mood now and ushered him into the Skylark’s Dream without comment. The ground floor of the inn had a row of tall windows facing the road which were open, and he could hear many conversations inside.

A fair number of people were inside as he walked in and was immediately struck by the scent of roast meat and alcohol, despite the open windows. A burley keeper with balding hair in a velvet tunic showed them to a small three legged table in the corner of the room underneath a framed painting, and she ordered a substantial meal to blend in. He glanced around the people inside the common room; a white haired lady sat reading with a glass of wine beside her. What looked like a group of farm labourers lounged back in the corner opposite them: he wondered what farms there were nearby, he rarely left the city. A group of youths laughed loudly in another corner, drinking too much ale altogether. Serving wenches slid amongst the crowd, answering cries for more ale. One attracted the attention of a hefty man, no doubt interested by her dress which was tight across the shoulders and loose everywhere else.

“That’s the man we want, over there.” Josephine pointed to a tall man sitting at one of the tables. He had a dark face and wore a hooded robe of greens and browns. “There’s Owen Corcoran.” He sat next to a sulky-faced girl.

“I think I’ve met the girl.” Lando joked. As he did, he caught her eye and she looked quickly at him. He foolishly continued to stare at her before she leaned towards Owen and pointed Lando out to him as his head came around.

“Damn it, Lando.” She swore as Owen looked them both over from afar then turned to return to his meal of mushroom and beef. “Well he knows we were checking him out now.”

“Here, miss,” said a serving wench at Josephine’s shoulder. She turned to find a platter piled high with roast mutton and a mound of barely swimming in savoury gravy. With it came a loaf of crusty bread and a bowl of honey. Josephine considered the meal was actually fairly good for the district and broke off a bit of the bread to eat with her honey. The girl on Owens’s table moved off and walked out onto the inn’s landing. “Go on then.” She nodded to the empty seat at the table and spoke through a full mouth.

“What me?”

“Yes, he’s much more likely to respond to, how shall I say, a less reputable looking character than he is to me.” She told him after swallowing. “Just tell him the truth and offer him four hundredth of the total profits and forty pieces upfront.” She looked at him impatiently. “Go on then!”

Lando rose from the table and left Josephine to her meal. He was slightly annoyed at Owens’s higher proposed cut of the pay, but decided against raising it. He sat down opposite Owen, screeching the chair loudly on the wooden floor as he pulled himself up to the table and sat with arms crossed on the top. Owen scarcely looked up but Lando noted the dagger concealed in a leather pouch inside the robes, visible by the bulge and stitching. Lando’s hand responded in turn leaning gently on his sword scabbard, and as Owens’s eyes fixed onto his he couldn’t deny his back breaking into a small sweat.

“You’re not yeomen, are you?” Lando shook his head. “Marshal? Guardsman? Militia? Bloody hell – not Nainah, are you?” Lando shook his head to every one in turn, with slight amusement as the former pirate listed every policing agency he could think of off hand. “Right then, who are you?”

“My name is…” Lando considered giving a false name, but in the end it didn’t matter. “Lando Scabbia.”

“Owen Corcoran,” He replied in a deep and complex voice. “But then you already knew that, from the way you were scoping me out over there.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Josephine. “Lover?” He asked.

“Employer,” Lando corrected with a withering tone. “I’ve got a proposal for you.”

“I’ll hear you out, but I’ve got to say I might not care for it.”

“There is a brig in Gullgrove port – the Dawnfast – sailing East tomorrow.”

“East?” Owens’s reactions peaked and he shook his head heavily. “Oh, no-no-no, don’t go east.” Lando explained he knew about the pirate attacks and briefly summarised the mission. Owens’s first reaction was to snort. “What’s her armament?”

“Nineteen twelve-pound carronades, couple of long chase guns.” Lando rattled off information he had been given. He took it this was fairly impressive, as Owen clicked his tongue, considering the offer.

“Here’s a better idea: you take me and that big ship of yours, and we sail west to Erosmouth Guard harbour. The Duchy of Autumn has a trade embargo going on right now with that port, but they’d never challenge a brig like you’re Dawnfast here, and we could make a killing profit, maybe fence a few stolen goods I’ve got lying around up there. The trip could be very lucrative, probably much more than your fatuous contract with the Gaian’s.”

“It’s a very tempting offer, but unfortunately the Dawnfast does not belong to me. I’m here as something of a…ambassador.”

Owen spat onto the ground and finished off a mushroom. “I’ve no love for the Gaian’s.” He told him coldly.
“In that we are in agreement.”

“-Like to gut every one of ‘em.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I lost my father in the war, though.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Owen slid aside his plate and read Lando’s scepticism. “No, really I am. It’s not nice. Who was the dead mind who got him killed?”

“Prince Gerne,” Lando replied. “He marched the bloody brigade straight into an ambush.”

“Oh aye, wouldn’t surprise me.” Owen drank down his flagon of ale and savoured the flavour as the liquid slid down his throat. “He’s not done too bad for himself, that Gerne, was getting quite a profit a good few winter’s ago but no-ones heard from him in a couple of winters now – I wonder if he’s dead and they can’t announce it for fears of triggering a war of succession. “

“Interesting,” Lando lied; he knew hardly anything about external politics. “So what do you think of the offer.”

Owen threw his napkin down onto the table and leaned back. “Well I’ll think about it, I guess. I do know that East coast like the back of me hand, but not keen on turning in on my old entrepreneurial associates – still owes them a favour or two, I do.”

“We’re not going after any pirates except those we have a marque against, and most probably won’t bother us if they see the Dawnfast.”

“True enough.” He leaned into the table again. “Well, might as well.” He admitted. “It might be nice to get out on the sea again, and make some money the more conventional way.”

“That’s good news.” Lando beckoned Josephine over. “Owen has accepted the offer.”

Owen looked over the neat Lady who walked across the room, still with a slice of bread in her hands. “I’m going to be in a cabin with you then?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” She replied curtly but with a faint degree of humour. “I’ve decided to set sail early tomorrow morning, and catch the dawn zephyr out wind wards and then trim the sails east. It’s not very good conditions right now and I’m told it will probably rain and kick up a storm in the night. We might as well start the right way. You two should stay here for the night, and get down on the dockside for the mid-watch tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” She spoke privately to Lando before she left telling him to keep an eye on Owen that night and that was the reason she wanted them in the same tavern, but everything went fine. He ordered a private room for a gold crown from the landlord who led him up the stairs onto the landing. He took a ring of keys from his belt and led Lando to the third door on the right, and swung open the door for him silently. He checked that Owen found his room okay, then turned in himself.

The room was compact but neatly arranged. A sturdy wooden bedstead with a thick straw pallet on it stood against the wall. Linen sheets stretched across the bed and he noted a narrows clothespress beside the door. The walls were whitewashed and the floor scrubbed so it was clean, and the warmth from the downstairs kitchen rose nicely through the floor. He hung up his clothes on the pegs but kept his scabbard on a stool next to the bed; just in case. Lando climbed into the bed which felt almost too soft to really disturb and he was left thinking about how trustworthy Owen really was, despite his agreeable atmosphere in the inn that night. Somewhere along his deliberation, he fell asleep dreaming of soft blue waves lapping over the shore.

[Mikoto]

I just found this fic. Hope you write more soon, Ilphi.

[Brit]

I've just read the second part, I'm really enjoying this, I love the sea faring references. Couple of typos noted - well I am an Argosy typo sniper.

Barely for Barley
an inevitably - should that be as?

Anyway I love it so please keep writing.

[Ilphi]

Okay cool I didn't realise people were still reading it

Quote

Brit:
Barely for Barley

Well spotted! *feels the buellet woosh past him by the typo sniper*


Here is Part 3... where they like, finally get onto the ship! Nice

* * * *

Chapter 3: The Illusion Of Power



“Are you saying we can’t trust him?”

“What I’m saying…” Josephine replied with tight lips, carefully pondering over her words. “Is that he came awfully easy last night, don’t you think? I mean, we just had to lay our cards down on the table and he folded instantly.”

Lando had to agree there. But from their brief encounter Lando had to admit he rather liked Owen; they both seemed to be made of similar stuff, even if Lando’s past wasn’t quite as colourful as his.

“Well, maybe he just wants to get away from Gullgrove.”

“Yes, but why? He’s awfully happy to come east - we have to consider the possibility he wants in on these pirates’ schemes. Or he could be using us for another objective – I don’t know – but whatever’s going on keep an eye on him. As long as we keep our senses about us like a cat on the prowl we can stay on top of him. There’s only so much you can hide on a single ship.”

Lando thought over their conversation. “There was a couple of things… he seemed to have detailed knowledge about politics in the East, something you can’t really come across unless you’ve been there fairly recently, and he asked after the Dawnfast’s armaments, comparing them … well, lends itself to the possibility he knows about the pirates armaments, which seems to indicate he knows something about them.”

“True enough.” Josephine noticed Owen was now walking towards them on the seafront. “He’s here now, keep quiet.” She put on a false smile. “Owen, good glad you’re here.”

Lando had woken at first light that morning, and crawled out of bed fairly quickly. He turned in the key to the landlord and waited in the common room for Owen to come down. He sipped on some hot drink a serving wench provided and waited for him to arrive, but Josephine entered the inn fairly quietly and told him she needed to have a word with him before they were all together. They waited outside before he arrived and they now walked together in a three towards the dockside.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked casually as they walked down a gravel slope towards the harbour’s docking ring, where wooden platforms reached out in jetties letting small ships such as sloops moor onto. The wood shifted slightly underfoot with a creek as they stepped onto it, and they walked along the front following Josephine’s lead. They passed a small fishing schooner, attached by a rope gently lapping in the water to the dock, and a man dressed in a dark green tunic threw a large net of fish onto the wooden dockside, which squelched as it landed and salty seawater was squashed out of the dead carcasses, returning to its mother ocean through the gaps in the wood. A brackish smell rose to their noses and the fisherman caught Lando’s eye briefly before returning to unload his trawl lines.

“Aye, ‘twas good nights sleep. Work up a few times, either from the inns objectionable hooch or your even more objectionable offer.” He yawned loudly revealing his darkly stained teeth before continuing. “Or both.”

They rounded a corner and came onto a small wharf where a moderately sized rowing boat was tied to. Inside the rowing boat were two grumpy looking seamen manning a dark wooden oar each. Standing in front of it were two men, both dressed in obviously naval uniform and displaying the colours of Calliope; red and green stitching entwined horizontally along the fabric. One had a small broach to show he was an officer; the other had his topcoat unbuttoned in the centre showing a white loose material underneath, and the heavy equipment belt around his waist revealed he was a marine. The officer stepped forward and bowed graciously towards Josephine, a man in his mid thirties who had carefully controlled hair and high cheek bones. The other man stayed next to the boat looking upright, never even glancing over the newcomers. Lando noted his much heavier armament, a long sword and he glanced at a holstered handgun in a leather pouch. Lando had some experience with guns, but on the whole found them cumbersome and over-rated. The officer’s sword was much more to his liking, sweeping brass in a gothic style with a folding rear part of the guard which latches into a stud on the brass top piece of the scabbard, in case of a gale or dangerous weather on the ships deck, he assumed.

“Lieutenant, this is Mr Scabbia who will be serving with us as a swordsman and Mr Corcoran who will be assisting our navigator as we sail further east.” The officer shook both their hands in turn and Lando noticed the calluses on his hand, a telling sign that despite his officer status he had experience with the blade. “Gentlemen, this is Lence Bramore, first lieutenant on the Dawnfast and Fencard Blake,” She said, indicated the marine standing next to the boat. “The Sergeant of the Marines onboard the Dawnfast.” Lando smiled to the new acquaintances and looked over the ratings sitting in the boat, phasing out of the conversation as Josephine asked after the ships status. One of the ratings averted his eyes and tapped on the oar while the other looked disdainfully at Lando. He shrugged and tuned back into the conversation.

“There we go, oh, watch your step there.” Lence had boarded onto the boat and offered a hand to help Josephine step down. She hitched her skirt up a little and went down cautiously, firmly gripping onto Lence as the boat bobbed down slightly beneath the increased load. Fencard fell in behind her, walking to the back of the boat carefully treading over the oars and manning the tiller. Owen walked in and took the damp seat towards the stem of the ship, as did Lando when he slowly got on board and shifted his position to balance the weight of the rowing boat properly. Lence asked him quietly to push them away, so Lando uncoiled the rope from the wooden post of the jetty and pushed away from the shore.

Fencard barked some orders at the ratings that extended the oars out through the brass hoops on the ships and dug them deeply into the dark blue water. They moved forward and retracted the oars then cut in again in a single, monotonous motion that made the oars each side mirror themselves perfectly. The boat picked up a fair speed and wind began whipping into Lando’s hair as they passed away from the cover of the harbour.

“It’s a good wind,” Lence informed Josephine. “If it stays in our sails we can clear the Dolphin Peaks by sundown.”

The dock of Gullgrove disappeared gradually into the distance. The high rise towers of the magistrate’s compound were visible on the hilltop, appearing striking over the rest of the city. The ships they passed gradually got larger, first just single sailed fishing boats but later on much larger three mast sailing ships. The water around the oars swirled in eddies and they passed the stacks that marked the outline of the natural harbour. The sun was rising to a high peak and Lando felt his outfit itching slightly. The sweat was visible and glistening on the skin of the ratings, but they continued rowing unhindered by the heat, the oars blending perfectly into their form like a natural extension.

“So where are you guys from?” Lence asked them informally, unbuttoning his topcoat and leaning back in the boat.

“Born and bred in and around Gullgrove.” Lando replied. “My family originally came from east, territory under Prince Gerne, but we migrated in a trading caravan, or so I’m told.”

The lieutenant nodded back sagely. “What about you?” Owens’s gaze had drifted out across the harbour. “What? Oh, umm… can’t remember. I’ve been all over the place.”

“Fair enough,” Lence replied. “Oh… look.” He turned around. “Oh, almost arrived…there she is.”

In front of them the Dawnfast spread out balancing on the ocean. It had a brown keel which wobbled only slightly on the ocean which was being picked up slightly by the increasing wind. The brown keep cut into an almost orange lower wale, which had freshly polished wood – the crew must have had something to do while in port, he guessed. Eleven gun ports were cut in each side of her high bulwarks, closed hatches at this point covering them up. As they got closer he made out the crew on deck, and some climbing high in the riggings. She carried four sails on the foremast, one square sail on the main, and a large fore-and-aft sail with gaff abaft the fore, with large staysails over and three jibs. Rigging ropes cast between the masts resembled some large spider’s web, almost infinitely complex from Lando’s viewpoint. At the head of the ship a large figurehead was attached; in this case the traditional image of Gaia with long hair behind her shoulders and she wore a pendant which was the broach star of Calliope. The bowsprit stretched out long ahead of the ship, seeming to pierce a large cloud in the backdrop behind it. Trailing from the back riggings of the ship and flapping eagerly in the wind was the flag of Calliope, red and blue colours encasing a star.

Lando had to admit the ship was very impressive, and although he had seen many ships pass into the harbour of Gullgrove this ship was superior in craftsmanship and appearance. The spread of guns on its hull certainly looked intimidating from his position down on the boat beneath them, although he hadn’t seen any of the carronades yet. As they approached the ratings retracted their oars by the order of Fencard and held them up vertically. More seamen from the Dawnfast climbed down on squared ropes trailing from the side of the ship, and one threw down a rope to Fencard who tied it to a hole in the bow of the ship and the rowing boat was drawn alongside. A ladder came down and was secured with bolts onto the Dawnfast’s hull. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Josephine, despite taking Lance’s hand as she embarked on the rowing boat, was willing to climb up the ladder onto the ship. First she climbed up slowly, followed by Lence, then Fencard and finally Lando and Owen. The ratings remained behind to secure the rowing boat to the hull of the Dawnfast.

They stepped onto the spar deck of the ship. There were a few pieces of wet rope and other objects, and he noted the heavy chase cannon at the stern of the ship on top of the poop deck. All around them seamen continued their daily routine; a boatswain glided on the quarterdeck examining the masts, spars, and rigging for any signs of defects, and a group of seamen scrubbed the decks clean. The deck of the ship extended a fair distance in either direction from where the party had embarked. Towards the stern side of the ship the floor rose and from it emerged the door and window to the Captain’s cabin. On top of that lay the stern castle, in the centre of that the mizzenmast which had a large vertical sail attached and flapping loosely in the wind, the spanker sail, with the wooden boom extending far beyond the stern of the ship. At the very aft of the ship two large lanterns were being cleaned down. He noticed two officers had glanced over the newcomers and were now walking down to greet them.

Directly in front of Lando the main deck continued for twenty five feet across, and a large hatch took up most of the floor space. Towards the bow of the ship the forecastle rose again, with a pair of steps at either end of the forecastle leading up onto the higher deck. The large, brass, rounded ships bell drifted slightly from side to side in the breeze, hanging from a bracket mounting. Lando glanced around the deck, but could only spot the single carronade, facing astern.

“Ah, sweet Lady Josephine,” The pair of officers had reached them on the deck, and the first to speak easily wore the most prestigious uniform he had seen. As well as the fine stitching and officer’s broach, his shoulders were also decorated with a gold stitching. Lando correctly assumed this was Captain Abloson. “The Dawnfast finally has returned its most valuable treasure.” Josephine flushed a deep scarlet and bowed graciously.

“The Captain is very kind.” Fencard saluted the Captain, and then melted away into the multitude of crew occupied in various pursuits across the ship. By an indoctrinated sense of respect, however, the crew did not walk in between or even close to the gathering of officers in the centre of the spar deck. Like an invisible bubble around the party, they were afforded the luxuries of space and privacy which were so prized aboard a ship. Lence walked around from the back of the group and in between the new arrivals and the officers, his arms outstretched either side in a gesture of magnanimous greeting. “Gentlemen, please let me introduce Mr. Scabbia, a fine swordsman I am told, and Mr. Corcoran who is knowledgeable in the topography of the eastern coast. I would introduce to you, the esteemed Captain Abloson, Regent of Metis Province, and Second Lieutenant Erzor Malwan.”

The Captain shook both their hands cordially but Lando noticed him looking over his shabby clothes and frowning slightly. “Both, ah… able bodied seamen I suppose?” He asked slowly.

“Well,” Josephine replied, carefully deciding how to phrase the obvious statement. “Mr. Corcoran has served on, well…” She hit a wall in her reasoning. She obviously didn’t want to directly admit she had hired a former pirate.

“I have, Sir, served aboard several private ships of war.” Owen picked up, and Josephine nodded very slightly towards him in respect to his quick thinking.

“Mr. Scabbia however, Sir, has not yet served on an ocean vessel.”

“A landlubber,” Gare Abloson said disdainfully. “Well, if you think it is needed Lady Morrison, it shall be done.” He gestured for the second lieutenant to step forward. “Mr. Malwan, please show Mr. Scabbia the basics of the Dawnfast.”

Erzor stepped forward. “Very good Sir.”

“First Lieutenant Bramore, please accompany me onto the forecastle. The sail maker wants to hear our opinion of some rust on the foremasts riggings deadeyes.” Lence nodded and turned neatly to follow the Captain across the deck. Second Lieutenant Erzor started to speak, but noticed the ships quarter-master hanging at his shoulder with a list of supplies received from Gullgrove that needed signing. While Erzor was occupied with that temporarily, Josephine stepped forward and spoke very softly into Lando’s ear.

“The Captain likes to select his crew himself, these with him now have had years of experience patrolling Calliopean waters.” She said very quietly. “He might not accept you at first but give it time.” She then backed away and spoke in a much louder and plain voice. “Owen, I want you to stay with Lando for the time being now. Despite your past employment, there still may be some finer points you are yet to pick up on.”

“Fine.”

Erzor finished signing the document and began to stride up and down before the two new crewmembers, talking in a pompous voice and generally taking pleasure in patronising both of them. Josephine hanged back, leaning against the side of the ship, but listened in. “The first rule of the ship: All the officers and ship's company are to obey the captain's orders with promptness and respect.” He considered the rank that Lando and Owen would be taking aboard the ship. Higher than seamen, able fighting hands, similar to gunners. “The officers are strictly enjoined not to interfere with the duty of their superiors, or with any other than their own.” He continued. The talk went on for some time, outlining rules in a flowery speech, but basically everything he said was simple common sense. Lando found his concentration drifting around loosely, but listened in again as the rules list drew to a close. “Finally,” Erzor said, deliberately letting his eyes linger on Lando’s dirty stained trousers. “That if any person shall steal, or convert to his use, any part of the prize or prizes, or be found pilfering any money or goods, and be convicted thereof, he shall forfeit his share to the ship and company.”

Lando sighed as Erzor paused, his deep breath sending out a clear message. He then proceeded to show them about the deck, pointing out objects and explaining their use. Of this he was slightly more pleased to receive information about. Josephine also followed them around a few paces behind, but not engaging with the talk at all. “The capstan here,” He pointed to a circular wooden cylinder rising from the ships hull, towards the stern side of the spar deck. “…Is used to raise anchor and winch lines. Now, you won’t need to know about the sails names, because,” He half coughed, half laughed with a superior tone. “You won’t need to think about them in your position, but the basics are always useful to know. That’s the foremast.” He said, pointing to the tallest mast at the bow of the ship, nestled in the forecastle. “And behind me is the mizzenmast.” He nodded towards the smaller mast towards the end of the ship. “That large vertical sail is called the spanker, or driver. The triangular sails stretching out from the bow of the ship are called the jibs.”

“I understand.” Owen said, finally losing patience, in a tone that could not be called rude, but which had an inarguable degree of finality to it.

“Very well then, I shall show you to where you will be sleeping on the ‘gun’ deck.” Lando wasn’t sure why he put such a comical tone on the word ‘gun’. Josephine knew, however, and followed them across to the route down. Erzor lead them to ladders directly in front of the forecastle, and slowly walked down keeping a hold on the rope provided. The deck was darker, and had a more menacing atmosphere. However once all four of them were down on the deck, Lando used his incredible powers of observation and stumbled out loudly: "There are no bloody guns!"

The exclamation made several of the ratings look up at him before continuing with their work. However it was accurate; although there were gun ports, lashing ropes, and tracks for running the carronades out, there were no actual guns visible on the deck. The dank floor continued on very far, with nine gun ports cut on either side of the hull, and in between the small hatches mess tables were bolted onto the wooden planks. Directly in front of the ladders they had walked down was the removable and holed cover to the cargo hold bellow, and peering down it Lando spotted stacked barrels of gunpowder, a cartridge rack and a shot locker for the ammunition. Josephine looked up, expecting his outburst, and walked forward to field the question, instead of letting Erzor mumble out an answer.

“Ah, yes...” She spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice, with eloquence becoming her royal heritage. “As I mentioned at our first encounter, we left the Calliopean docks without a full weapons quota... or even a full crew. Remember, that’s why you are here right now.”

“But, you’re a ship of war and you left without more than, what, a single gun?”

“Two carronades,” Erzor corrected, mustering as much dignity as he could. “Both acting as stern chasers on the ships stern castle.”

Lando began walking around the deck of the ship, half-smiling with the ironic nature of the situation. He was currently standing on the gun deck of one of the most potentially powerful ships on the Northern coast, and it right now could probably be outfought by a cutter. He trampled over the hatch to the hold of the ship, and turned around when he reached the bilge pump. “I don’t believe this. Why did you leave without proper weapons?” He looked straight at Josephine, expecting her temper to take control of her as it had done before, and predicted he would get into a shouting match. Instead, Josephine walked towards him, unflinching, and spoke in a voice as cool as a mountain lake.

“Lando, could I have a word in the wardrooms please?”

He was disarmed by her attitude and followed her towards the aft of the deck without rhetoric. They passed the capstan’s counterpart on the lower deck. The gun deck changed character once you cross the part where the mizzenmast roots down through the ship. The ports where the guns would be run out in this section of the ship were not exposed with mess tables sitting in between them as they had in the rest of the deck; instead removable bulkheads sectioning them off like small rooms against the side of the ship. There were six of these cubicles enclosed with privacy on the edge of the ship, and a further two built like boxes around the mizzenmast. They were the wardrooms, officers quarters where the command staff could rest in comfortable detachment from the rest of the crew. Josephine ushered him into one towards the stern of the ship, next to the rudder head cover that rotated slowly back and forth with the currents of the sea. She closed the makeshift hatch behind her when they were both inside. The room was already extremely small, and would be even worse when it finally had cannon in it – if it ever had cannon in it.

“The Dawnfast was supposed to have twenty twelve pounders, and two heavier chase cannons on her fore deck. Although Calliope has the finest ship builders, we still needed to place an order with a private contractor to supply that many guns and the relevant equipment. The order was placed, of course, years in advance.” She explained, still calmly. “The private company made their weapons in their own compound, around ninety leagues south of Calliope’s capital keep. When the arranged time came, we supplied a cohort of one hundred men, approximately, to escort the cannons safety into our border. We never heard from either the cannons or our escort cohort again.”

“What?” He replied, shocked. “What – umm, nomads?”

“Attack a one hundred strong company? No. This was a planned attack, which no one survived, and they took away the caravans of equipment. This kind of pattern bears a striking resemblance to the pirate attacks further east, and someone must have a substantial force and daring to attack us like that. We can only assume that whatever force controls these pirates, also has access to a substantial land force, which puts them in a whole new class of threat. And added to that, have spies within both the Duchy of Autumn or Gaian court to have knowledge about the Dawnfast, and the wisdom to see it as a threat that needed to be removed. ”

“I see what you mean.” Lando replied thoughtfully. He leaned back against a barrel in the corner and thought through what he has been told. “Even so,” He began. “Couldn’t you have waited to get more guns?”

“No!” Josephine replied, a little strongly, but clasped her hands together in front of her chin. “No, don’t you see? The Dawnfast was sitting in dry dock at the time, a little fire here... a few ounces of gunpowder and she is crippled without even launching, and the pirate attacks continue unabated.” She winced at the possible scenario. “We just couldn’t let that happen. The Calliopean army was engaging marauding bandits on the Helios planes at the time and we couldn’t recall them to guard the Dawnfast, nor could we ever properly protect against a stealthy sabotage team. Our only choice was to launch and accept the Gaians Letter of Marque early, hoping to catch the pirates off guard." She shrugged and continued in an off-hand manner: “The couple of twelve pounders we were able to scrounge came from the Tourniquet which was due to be scraped later that winter.”

“So that’s why you left early – because you couldn’t safeguard the Dawnfast anymore.”

“Exactly. We sent outriders to courier a message to the next friendly port along, the port of Parthea where we will be docking next to become fully armed. They have respected gun forgers there; we can pick up our quota as originally expected. I’ll admit we’ll be sailing unprotected for a while, but, well-”

The ship’s bell interrupted the conversation, ringing shrilly from the spar deck of the Dawnfast.

“Oh, dear, you’ll have to excuse me.” Josephine backed out of the cabin. “I’ve been summoned on deck; it seems the ship is departing. You can come too if you like, although be aware Captain Abloson doesn’t approve of off duty crewmembers in the space between the mizzenmast and stern of the ship.”

“Forget it.”

“Hmm, quite.” Josephine glanced around the small confined chamber. “For the time being you and Owen can share this small room. You should be able to squeeze two hammocks in here when the carronades finally arrive.”

The Dawnfast left the port of Gullgrove shortly later, picking up the midday wind in her unfurled sails. The neat prow of the ship cut through the dark blue ocean easily, and the hull lightly skipped across the ocean, occasionally cracking a wave against her keel, which exploded in a spray of blue and white. The coastlines gradually disappeared away from the horizon, and at dusk that day Captain Abloson ordered the direction to change and the ship came about ninety degrees in a smooth arc, setting its true course: east. Owen seemed pleasantly surprised at being allowed to sleep in the remaining wardroom; he was fully expecting hanging a hammock between the mess tables and slumbering with the ordinary seamen. Lando took slightly longer to accept the charms of the quaint little cabin, but when Owen put it to him would he prefer to be here, or sleeping next to some large chewing seamen, trading libidinous comments about some left behind girl with his friends, Lando could hardly complain. His stomach had been remarkably well behaved for his first real day at sea, and he only felt slightly nauseous as he lied down on the swinging canvas. He settled his swimming mind and gut by opening the gun port and letting the cool nights air rush in. The waves tumbled gently beneath him, stumbling over each other in their quest across the ocean. Lando’s consciousness joined them for a while, jumping across the blue expanse in single strides over the horizon until Owen told him to close the hatch.

This post has been edited by Ilphi: 03 April 2003 - 12:41 AM

[Mikoto]

Pretty cool Ilphi, keep it coming!

[Ilphi]

Well folks, every Sea Story needs a Big Bad Storm ™

****

Chapter 4: Storm Off Ardos



The Dawnfast held a course east for twenty-three days. They kept out of sight of the coastline, but were always fairly close to it. The weather deteriorated rapidly the further east they travelled, and coupled with the disintegrating coast certainly gave the impression they were truly sailing into an uncontrolled and wild land. After passing the headlands one day out from Gullgrove the sea suddenly became more vindictive and greeted them with a gale on only the third night, throwing vast waves of white spray across the deck. When they did glimpse the coastline, sandy beeches and gentle slopes were replaced with jagged rock and pebbled coves, and dark caves cutting into stacks and columns. The previous night had been calmer, but Lando could hear a storm brewing in the west and Owen predicted that it could be blown on top of them.

The morning dawned grey and drizzly. Drifts of fine thick mist shrouded the close-hauled Dawnfast separating it entirely from the rest of the world. Autumn was setting in, and trees along the northern coast had turned a golden brown colour, and Lando walked up onto the spar deck that day to be greeted with grey skies and silver clouds where the sunlight pierced though them. But the sun itself was no-where to be seen, and the storm Owen had so confidently predicted was chasing them fast from the stern.

The crew were engaged in their normal duties, and Lando had managed after a few weeks to slip into a routine where it wasn’t considered strange for him to be on the spar deck. He looked up to see Josephine, Lence and Erzor all on the stern castle above the skylight deep in conversation. He walked around, killing time until this exchange had passed and Josephine had walked away slightly, leaning out on the taffrail at the very end of the ship. Lando climbed up onto the stern castle quickly, walking towards her to ask of their situation. He passed the belaying pins next to the mizzenmast, and glanced down through the skylight to the captain’s cabin. He couldn’t see the Captain through them, however, so continued pacing along until he was directly next to Josephine. He expected her to be instantly alerted to his presence like her reactions normally allowed, but for now she just stood their gazing out to the rolling tempest chasing them windward.

“If your thoughts are this heavy, perhaps we can use them as an anchor.” He joked slightly catching her attention. She was too deep in thought to be annoyed by the intrusion, and slowly returned to reality after her silence.

“Hmm, what? Oh,” She stood up properly and forced a smile. “I haven’t seen you much for a few days.”

“Well, you know me; I don’t want to interrupt important ships business. But any chance I can be advised of our situation?”

“Stick around a few minutes. I’ll vouch for your politeness, so stay out of the command crew’s decisions.”

Lence stepped onto the stern castle and began pacing back and forth, before addressing the watch seamen and clearly giving his orders.

“You down there!” He called to the seaman manning the wheel on the quarter deck. The seaman looked up at him, his sturdy arms never letting the wheel slip too far in either direction. “Turn us coastward three points!”

“What’s going on?” He asked Josephine.

“We’re just turning towards the coastline quickly so we can get a fix on how far we are along east.”

After half an hour the coastline appeared on the horizon and Lence ordered the seamen to steady his course. The storm had gained another few steps towards them, and Lando looked up to the ever darkening sky wondering what it would be like on the ship in an strong storm like the one he could see approaching them. Erzor produced a pocket map from a black book, which had detailed line drawings of the coastline. He and Lence simultaneously looked down the distant coastline with brass telescopes, referring to the map every few seconds until they finally agreed on their position and marked it on with pencil. Josephine realised this too, and they all regrouped by the ships wheel on the quarter deck. Lence explained their position to Josephine who nodded sagely, but her expression told that this was not the best news.

“Second Lieutenant Erzor, please be so good as to fetch the Captain.” Lence ordered. Erzor marched forward, knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin and waited a few seconds before he was shown in by the Captain’s steward. Several minutes later Captain Gare Abloson stepped out onto the quarterdeck, fiddling with his cufflinks to get them fixed on properly and hastily asked why he was summoned. Erzor followed after him.

“Sir, our position along the coastline is here.” Lence pointed to a cross on the map made in pencil. They were half way across a large headland, which reached out from the coastline like a giant finger pointing towards them. The finger coiled round in front of them, and sheltered a large area of water north-east of their current route. This sheltered area in front of the finger looked like a giant bay cutting into the side of the coastline, but their already planned course took them straight on past the finger and dead east. “We are coming to the end of the Ardos Peninsular, and the Gulf of Partilo will lie to our starboard side within a few hours.”

“Ah, we are making fair progress then. We should be at the port of Parthea by the end of tomorrow, if we continue straight ahead and trim sails east mid-day tomorrow and head into the coastline where Parthea lies.” He was talking in an extremely clipped, irritable manner. Lando wondered if he had slept in past first light and resented being woken. According to the map, Parthea was in a fair distance inside the Gulf of Partilo.

“Yes Sir,” Lence replied. “But there is a slight problem. A heavy storm chases us; it will break over us soon and looks fairly strong by all accounts. We can avoid this storm if we change course now…” He moved his finger down along the furthest edge of the Ardos Peninsular. “And seek shelter inside the Gulf of Partilo.”

Captain Abloson shook his head emphatically. “No, I won’t change our course into their because of some bad weather. The Duke of Partilo has always made it clear he will board and search every ship inside his sovereignty. I won’t let him expose the Dawnfast as being so temporarily weak. We will weather out this storm.” He spoke the last sentence in a callous, almost contemptuous manner to the suggestion of turning from the storm.

“Sir! With all due respect!” Lence began.

“These are my orders, Second Lieutenant!” Captain Abloson told him firmly. “Be so good as to have them seen carried out! I shall be in my cabin if you need me.”

The Captain turned around neatly and walked back into his cabin. The rest of the officer’s eyes trailed his retreat across the quarterdeck, and they were left standing for a few seconds as the clouds darkened overhead. Already a shorter, choppier and much harsher motion was replacing the ship's normal languid rolling and rain was beginning to beat down on the deck. Josephine tightened up her undone jacket and Lence squinted in the cold.

“What now?” Erzor broke the silence.

Lence didn’t like the undertone in the second lieutenants simple question. “We shall obey the Captain’s orders, of course!” He drew himself up, now resigned to the task of getting through the storm. “Second Lieutenant, inform the crew to take battens and pin the tarpaulin down to cleats on the deck - drum tight!” Erzor saluted and walked down to the ladders. “My Lady,” He said softly, addressing Josephine quietly as the rain drops patted slightly on his hair. “May I suggest you return to your cabin for the duration of the storm?”

“A suggestion I am only too happy to accept,” She said reasonably truthfully, her arms folded as she shivered slightly. “Gaia damn it, this would be so much easier if we could just shelter in the Gulf of Partilo. There is a fair chance we wouldn’t even be spotted.” She gave an annoyed shrug and disappeared in the direction of her quarters. Lence turned to face Lando.

“It’s your watch, but are you sure you want to stay above board? It can get pretty nasty.”

“I’ll try and handle it.”

“It’s your call, of course.” Lence walked away and climbed up onto the forecastle.

Lando occupied himself as best he could, but it seemed like in no time at all the black storm clouds were upon them. The rain increased, widened, thickened and attacked them from a malicious slanted angle. The deck began wildly pitching from side to side; he and the rest of the crew remaining above deck were forced to grab hold of rails. Soon claps of thunder boomed overhead followed by jagged forked lightning carving up the moody sky. Lando lost track of what time it was in the day now, impossible to tell under the dark, thick and moody sky. The easterly wind lay firmly into the ship and picked up waves, buffeting it around from side to side. Lando was almost thrown onto the deck by a furious fetch, and now clawed his way across the deck to where Lence was standing on the starboard side of the quarterdeck.

The wind sang in the taught riggings and pushed through Lando’s now shaggy hair, uncontrolled after weeks at sea. He reached an area roughly near Lence’s side and tried to get the hang of surviving the godforsaken conditions. He balanced to the roll of the hull as the roaring wind sent another massive grey wave after another smashing into the side of the Dawnfast. The starboard bow received the wave first and heaved the bowsprit up into the night’s sky, and the ship heaved slowly over. Finally the bowsprit plummeted and the ship fell down the far side of the wave, foam creaming around them on deck. The wind freshened and the rigging began to make a strange harping sound. Lence looked up at the wildly moving sails and flapping riggings, and realised she was carrying too little canvas.

“Mr Malwan!” Lence shouted loudly to Second Lieutenant Erzor. “Send the Captain my compliments and tell him I am double reefing the main topsails!” Erzor nodded and struggled forward against the wind, nearly loosing his balance as the Dawnfast came crashing down after rolling over a wave. He disappeared into the Captain’s cabin for a short time, and then re-emerged on deck and yelled back quickly permission was given. Lando noted the captain wasn’t coming out onto deck himself.

“All hands!” Lence boomed out. “All hands, double reef the topsails!”

Seamen came pouring out of the hatches and re-organised about their stations. The Halliards and reef tackles on the ship were promptly manned, and the top men swarmed all over the rigging like strange silhouetted monkeys. North of the ship came a charging rumble of thunder, and then it repeated itself much closer. Lightning accompanied it again, lighting up the entire sky, striking against the bulging storm clouds. The morale of the seamen dropped in shock and horror at the new intensity of the storm, one of the more pious crewmembers took some time out to recite an old prayer on the main masts beam. The ship plunged and rolled along the grey sea under the charred sky. The wind picked up a colossal wave roller which smashed its full fury into the side of the Dawnfast. The force threw Lence against the rails of the top deck and winded Lando as he smashed into the capstan.

“Man overboard!” Came a cry from up in the riggings, echoed further down the ship. A dark silhouette had been flung from the riggings into the furious churning of the tempest. Another large roller flung itself against the ship, shuddering down the main sails with water. Erzor prayed silently that the sail was intact and hadn’t taken any holes or tears.

“The weather does not look good, Mr Bramore!” Captain Abloson had finally appeared on deck, sometime in the confusion between the battering of the waves. He seemed now to be slightly easier going, as if he had been feeling the ill effects of the storm in his cabin. The image of him sitting down, trying to eat a civilised meal while the plate was thrown from one side of the table to another was in more than one persons mind.

“We appear to have run into a spot of rain.” Lando said loudly, in a humour so dry it could never possibly be touched by the ocean. A further roller impacted against the ships side, drenching Lence and Captain Abloson with spray.

The Carpenter, Benjamin Wells, strode awkwardly towards the quarterdeck, keeping a hand on the side of the ship at all times to counteract the ships wild pitch changes underfoot. He wore a large rimmed hat, unusually, but it was tied to his head with so much rope and string it was almost suffocating him. Even then he kept on hand on it as he talked in a loud, but well mannered voice.

“Four feet of water in the well, Sir!” He informed the officers. The monstrous waves and rain continued battering away at the ships worn timbers, and the Dawnfast was becoming harder to control. Many seamen now hung from the riggings, dreading the next roller for fear it would be their last. The great ships wheel was like a beast trying to break free from its reigns, taking the effort of several men to control it. The occasional flashes of lightning highlighted the chaos.

“We must turn starboard into the shelter of the Gulf of Partilo, Sir!”

“No!” Captain Abloson said; his first, instinctive reaction.

“Sir,” Lence tried to press the matter coolly. “I have heard of finer ships dragged under in storms less potent.”

Gare considered this for a few seconds, but his opinion was swayed when another man on the riggings lost his footing and was left perilously hanging from them. Fortunately the men around him grabbed hold of him and pulled him up to the main top.

“Very well!” He said. “Gaia damns it! Defeated by the weather! We shall change course to the Gulf of Partilo and hope that the Duke welcomes visitors!”

The Dawnfast turned two points weather ward and rolled slowly, showing her sheets and hands in disarray. The storm made conscious attempts to keep them in its oceanic paws to play with, tossing the ship around a bit, but eventually it broke free and the sails were returned to their standard positions, allowing the ship to speed out. More than escaping the brunt of the storm, the peninsular they were now behind sheltered them from any more of the giant roller waves allowing the men in the riggings to come down safety and return bellow deck. When they escaped the dark maelstrom it was approaching mid-day, and the sun made an appearance finally, peeping out behind puffy clouds. The storm got smaller and became distant, far off, nothing to concern them any more. Now they had new concerns, sailing into another Duke’s territory. Lence paced up and down the deck with his brass telescope at his side, yet confident he had made the right decision. Lando’s watch ended, and he disappeared bellow decks to get some sleep.

Lando woke up to a frenzy of activity around him, as Owen walked in through the door interrupting his slumber. Owen’s watch had now come to a conclusion, and Lando decided to stretch his legs on the spar deck.

He was surprised to see the coastline on the horizon as he climbed up the rickety ladder, which had slipped from its firm rooting in the gale. Apparently, the crew were also surprised to see it there. Erzor had his telescope in hand, squinting through it examining the various distinctive qualities of this stretch, and was referring back to his map every few seconds. Lence was pacing up and down the stern castle, clearly troubled. Josephine appeared a few minuets later and asked him what was happening.

“I’m not sure.” Lando told her truthfully. “I think they are trying to decide exactly where we are.”

Josephine crossed her eyebrows and paced over to Lence, asking him what was going on.

“Well Milady,” He tried to talk loudly over Erzor’s uncouth cursing as he muttered endlessly ‘There shouldn’t be a coastline here. There shouldn’t be a coastline here.’ “It would seem the storm threw us slightly further coastward than we anticipated, and we are much further into the Gulf of Partilo than expected. This does mean, however, that we should reach Parthea slightly faster.” Josephine shook her head and leaned against the mizzenmast, annoyed slightly at the problems fate was throwing into their path.

“Sir!” Erzor called quickly from the edge of the ship. “Sir...I think you better take a look at this.”

Lence turned neatly on the spot and strode over to Erzor’s side, his telescope instantly in his hands and unfolded. He looked where Erzor was pointing and through the brass ring he saw a magnified building, precariously built on the very edge of the cliff. It was a solid wooden construction, but the tower on top instantly indicated it was a watchtower.

“Oh, blast!” Lence said simply. He ran forward to the rail at the front of the stern castle and called down to the watch detail manning the wheel. “Turn us three points to port! Get out of sight of that tower!” The seamen threw the wheel anticlockwise and the tiller of the ship responded accordingly, the great wooden fin redirecting the slipstream of water.

“What is this?!” Captain Abloson was now visible on the deck, striding out of the Captain’s cabin with his hand on his sword hilt. “Mr Bramore, what’s going on?”

He never got an answer because from the coast they heard a loud whizzing sound, as the watchtower shot up a bright blue flare, followed by a green one. The two rockets charged up into the sky, and every eye on the deck of the Dawnfast tracked their ascent into the clouds before they began to arc and lost their flame. We’re in trouble now, Erzor considered to himself: within hours that signal will be passed along and every port in the Duke of Partilo’s domain will know there is a foreign ship in their waters.

“Mr Bramore!” Captain Abloson called over. Lence’s attention was dragged down from the path of the rocket into the sky to the Captain’s impatient face. “Mr Bramore, kindly do explain what is going on.”

“Sir, the force of the storm took us further coastward than we expected, and it would seem we have been...spotted, by a Partilo watchtower. It stands to reason we should expect to be intercepted by a ship within a day, they will want to search our hold for any contraband materials.”

Captain Abloson frowned deeply. “I don’t want that, if the pirates can mount an attack on a ground convoy they have spies everywhere... and the search party would no doubt report that the Dawnfast currently lacks her main armament and the spies could relay that... and mount an attack at sea.” He shook his head. “Keep out of sight of the coast from now on, let us hope that they lack the co-ordination at present to send a ship to search us.”

“Can they...? I mean, isn’t it an act of war to board someone’s ship?” Lando asked Josephine quietly.

“It’s something of a moot point,” She explained. “The Duke of Partilo defends the decision claiming that every captain knows it will happen, and his armed forces only search the ship and take contraband material or a small tribute fee if they refuse to give up the material.”

Lando didn’t like the sound of that, but they had no choice but to continue onwards. The Dawnfast continued along the coastline, the crew collectively hoping that their counterparts on the coast couldn’t dispatch a ship quick enough. Their spirits rose when a fog set in, but all to quickly the mist was blown away by a strong wind from the south – probably the tail of the storm. They estimated from brief snatches of the coastline they were within one day of Parthea, when the inevitable cry came from the riggings: “Ship sir! Three masts on the horizon!”

The ship’s bell rang shrilly in the wind and all crew reported to their action details. The command staffs were on the deck in full parade – Captain Abloson, his two lieutenants either side of him, the boatswains and prize masters surrounding in a huddle. Sergeant Fencard had his marines lined on the spar deck, heavier naval rifles broken out of storage from the hold. Lando and Owen, as able swordsmen, were stationed either side of the mizzenmast to repel any borders and protect Josephine and the Captain. The two stern chasers were loaded, cleaned and properly manned although they couldn’t be properly used. The command staffs were unsure what decision Captain Abloson would take in dealing with the approaching ship. Lando was thankful he was stationed near them so he could over hear any important conversations. But at this point there were no conversations. Nothing but silence penetrated the cold, calculating gaze of Gare Abloson. His face was impossible to read. The decks and sails were secured, and the ship was as close to combat formation as it could be in this situation.

The Partilon ship moved closer to intercept them, clearly angling to try and get at their broadside. As they drew closer, telescopes appeared almost stimulatingly in the hands of the Captain and his Lieutenants as they scoped out the approaching Partilon warship.

First Lieutenant Lence identified the warship as a Barque design. It had three masts, with the foremast and mainmast square rigged and the mizzenmast fore-and-aft rigged. The colours of Portilo flew in the wind from its mainmast flag, and the prow sliced through the ocean as Captain Abloson took away his brass spyglass to consider the possible courses of action. Erzor gazed down to the gun ports of the ship. They were closed, but he counted six. The crew on deck were standing too, in a heightened state of action mirroring the Dawnfast.

“Six gun ports on their starboard side, Sir.” Erzor reported matter-of-factly.

“Are they cleared for action?”

“No.”

Captain Abloson began pacing up and down the deck, turning his feet in a proper parade style as he reached the edge rails of the stern castle. Lence, Erzor and Josephine watched him with quiet concern, and behind him the Partilon Barque turned one point to get to their side properly. The Captain clearly wasn’t thinking of running, Lando thought, or he would have given the order by now. The ship came along their broadside, although they were manoeuvring cautiously. The Captain paused next to the belaying pins, and for the first time let some emotion show on his face as his eyes and brows wrinkled; some fear was present.

“I’d, ah; I’d appreciate any suggestions right now.”

“We might still be able to run.” Erzor commented. “Get into neutral waters, they might disengage and break off the chase.”

“Sir,” Fencard said in a deep, gravely voice, his bayoneted rifle held tightly against his shoulders. “We may not be able to outfight them with cannons, but if we draw close enough to board I can lead marines on board and seize the ship. Two ships would be useful in fighting these pirates.”

“Um, excuse me!” Josephine piped up, acting in a true capacity as the royal representative. “While Partilo’s grounds for searching ships are trivial at best, he will see us taking his ship as a declaration of war and we’ll risk open war between Calliope and Partilo.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Lando spoke, out of turn. They were surprised to hear a swordsman escort speak. There was a slight pause. In the backdrop the Barque appeared in the corner of Josephine’s eye, now bigger than life next to them. They could hear the whooping of her riggings and the spray of her bow. She bailed him out.

“Go ahead, Lando.”

“Well, okay, we don’t have all these guns… but they don’t know that. We haven’t opened our gun ports yet but as far as they know we still have these guns. That could be why they are being more hesitant.”

“Yes,” Erzor agreed. “That’s why they haven’t cleared for action; they don’t want us to rise to the challenge.”

“You want to bluff them.” Lence compressed the idea. “You want to act dishonourably and deceive them.”

Lando shrugged. “There are no saints on the battlements.”

Captain Abloson paused to consider the idea. Then he started laughing. Laughing in a cold, hard, determined way, the kind of laugh of a man who had lost control of a situation but it was going his way. “That’s why their captain is acting like such a coward,” He mused loudly. “He’s trying to work out if a twelve gunned Barque is any match for the Calliopean flagship. “

[Mikoto]

Good, Ilphi, keep it coming!