William Sunshot
Honorable Pirate
The storm broke eventually, spreading a deep blue blanket over the Caribbean. The day is cloudless, and the sun shines brightly through the windows of my cabin. I rise, dress quickly, grab my effects, and head out on deck. My men are bustling about and seem to be in good spirits. I see Eoin barking at them from up at the helm, his supernatural skill with the sails keeping our ship moving faster than I ever thought possible. I greet every sailor I pass, and they smile and greet me in turn.
It's a great morning.
I walk up to the helm where my Irish pilot is muttering to himself about some sort of tacking issue or another. The man is all business. "Good morning, Eoin!" I shout
"Mornin' capt'n!" he shouts back, a grin spreading across his face "We should hit that island ye oriented us towards today, should be there 'round noon."
"Fantastic, keep me posted."
I checked in with a few more people and places aboard the great ship, noticing that the cannon crews had prepared the newly captured Fury and Thunderbolt rounds. Some other trinkets were stowed in the hold, and I was (as always) pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the crew quarters. I insisted that the men keep themselves and the ship neat, and they did so happily. Disease avoided my ship like the plague.
A few hours later, I heard the call from up in the crow's nest.
"LAND HO!!" bellowed the lookout, a small wiry man named Pete.
The crew brought us in, dropped the anchor a ways out, and moved closer to the rail to look. It was indeed an island, and a seemingly small one. Its shores were sandy, but there were dozens of masts sticking up from the shallows, indicating there were rocks aplenty. It seemed peaceful, and nothing really stood out until I examined the coasts more closely.
"Bring us around the west side, but keep light on the sails. Slow and steady will be best, I don't think we're alone." I ordered, and the men jumped to work
Eoin looked at me strangely. I pointed west, to where I had just seen a mast. Eoin's gasp confirmed it:
We had found Teague's ship, the Troubadour. There were two problems to this; one, the ship was on fire. Two, the fire was bright blue.
It's a great morning.
I walk up to the helm where my Irish pilot is muttering to himself about some sort of tacking issue or another. The man is all business. "Good morning, Eoin!" I shout
"Mornin' capt'n!" he shouts back, a grin spreading across his face "We should hit that island ye oriented us towards today, should be there 'round noon."
"Fantastic, keep me posted."
I checked in with a few more people and places aboard the great ship, noticing that the cannon crews had prepared the newly captured Fury and Thunderbolt rounds. Some other trinkets were stowed in the hold, and I was (as always) pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the crew quarters. I insisted that the men keep themselves and the ship neat, and they did so happily. Disease avoided my ship like the plague.
A few hours later, I heard the call from up in the crow's nest.
"LAND HO!!" bellowed the lookout, a small wiry man named Pete.
The crew brought us in, dropped the anchor a ways out, and moved closer to the rail to look. It was indeed an island, and a seemingly small one. Its shores were sandy, but there were dozens of masts sticking up from the shallows, indicating there were rocks aplenty. It seemed peaceful, and nothing really stood out until I examined the coasts more closely.
"Bring us around the west side, but keep light on the sails. Slow and steady will be best, I don't think we're alone." I ordered, and the men jumped to work
Eoin looked at me strangely. I pointed west, to where I had just seen a mast. Eoin's gasp confirmed it:
We had found Teague's ship, the Troubadour. There were two problems to this; one, the ship was on fire. Two, the fire was bright blue.