mjh623
Rum Runner
So after a couple of days of hunting Louis’ ships around Falaise de Fleur, my side kick Claire LaRousse and I decide to slip into town and make some arrangements to liquidate the contraband cinnamon we’ve “acquiredâ€. While we’re there we happen to notice that there is a fine fat pinnace at the quay loading a hefty cargo. Something to keep in mind for later, I says to Claire. We slip into the tavern and make our arrangements with the local talent to meet us at Octopus Bay, where we have anchored the ships. With the details in place, we kick back and refresh our spirits with… well, spirits, of course! As usually happens once Claire gets into her rum, she starts ribbing me about the <i>Jezebelle</i>, my British built fast schooner.
“You sure I can’t buy you some new oars for that dinghy?†she quips, with that knowing smirk on her face. Claire is a true believer in firepower. To hell with maneuvering, just blast ‘em all to splinters. I had merely to suggest that she might be interested in taking command of the <i>Mephisto</i>, and she had her beloved Privateer <i>Cheri</i> in dry dock so fast it made my head spin. “Great thundering guns and fathom thick hulls are all fine and dandy†I says to her, “but with my speed under sail and quick firing four pounders, I can take on anything you can with that pokey barge of yours!†Well, the rum keeps flowing and the bragging keeps growing, and before I know it, I find myself bellowing out “I’ll take that wager!â€
Wait… what did I just agree to? Oh shizzah! Look what the rum has gotten me into now. I have just bet that I can sail <i>Jezebelle</i> around the island from Octopus Bay, up the Throat to the harbor at Falaise de Fleur, put a prize crew aboard the pinnace we had seen there, sail back out again, and rejoin LaRousse at Octopus Bay. The kicker is I have to do it in broad daylight and with the Black Jack nailed to the masthead and in plain view of the gun-bristling fort. My grog soaked mind is fumbling for excuses when our newest addition to the crew, a burly boatswain named Fred Bob, gives me a slap on the back, about knocking me off my stool in the process, and proclaims “Dat be de spirit matey! Fred Bob be askin’ fer de job o’ prize crew on dis here shrimpin' expetition! Fred Bob be thinkin’ this be great fun, it shore be!â€
I’m a little skeptical of Fred Bob’s enthusiastic confidence in my abilities, seeing as how he has yet to walk the deck under my command, but there is no backing out now. So we toss back our rum and head for the door… no, wait. This is going to require more rum! Back to the bar for another round of liquid courage. Blazes, I wish they had some Snakebite in this joint! We stumble our way out of the bar and head for the gates leading out of the town. I take note of the conditions, a twenty knot tops’l breeze from the WNW. Should make for a brisk broad run to the southern entrance, and a broad reach up the Throat. Not perfect, but pretty damn good. This just might work. Or is that just the rum talking? Only one way to find out.
We jump in the boats and head out to the ships anchored in the bay. I was having a bit of trouble getting my legs to cooperate going up the side of <i>Jezebelle</i>, but Angus, my mountain of a gunner, grabs me by the collar and swings me aboard like a gunny sack, saving me the ignoble humiliation of a dunking. We sidle up next to the <i>Mephisto</i> and offload all the powder and shot. Light and fast, light and fast I keep repeating to myself. I am a leaf on the wind! Angus asks if he can keep the guns loaded with one round. Well, one round out of the mouth of four pounders won’t accomplish much, but it will let us give the fort a “salute†as we pass. If we pass. Over go the wheat and the rum. Belay there with that rum! We’ll be needing that more than powder on this run. I pick 3 of the best barrels to keep and send the rest over. We’ll be lucky if there is any of it left by the time we get back! On board comes sailcloth, 20 bales. Another 25 of planks goes down into the hold under the supervision of Chips, the carpenter. Up anchor, bring her nose around for the run south, and we’re off. Claire heaves to just off the beach to await our return. Full sails up and running at fifteen knots. Not bad, this will do.
With clear skies and fast sailing, I’m feeling my wits slowly return to me. Well, we can’t have that now, can we? I take a deep pull off the flask of overproof I keep in my coat for just such emergencies. I’m also keeping an eye on the southern skies, as it looks to be kicking up a squall soon. Take a quick peek through the glass to the east and… whoah! What’s that? Looks to be a couple of large warships or heavy merchantmen hull down to windward and bearing away. Well, they can’t catch me even if they see me, but good to know they are there. We’re coming up on the turn into the Throat now, but the squall is racing out of the south trying to beat us there. Got to make that turn before she hits us! We pinch in a little closer to shore, bringing the wind a quarter point aft and eking out another bit of speed. This is going to be close. Helms-a-lee! About we go just as the squall breaks on us. She brings thirty-four knots of wind right on the stern as we begin our run down the throat. Fortune may favor the brave, but I’ll take a fool’s luck any day!
Nineteen, no, twenty knots! We’re screaming down the throat with my glass trained on the fort for the first sign we’ve been noticed. I don’t have to wait long. The fort disappears behind a wall of smoke. That Old Fart fellow is on his toes, I’ll give him that. I hear the <i>snick snick </i>sound of iron passing through canvas. A quick glance up shows only a few holes. We have faired much better than I expected, but now the water is erupting in geysers as shot lands all around us. Then CRASH! A ball has knocked a chunk out of the taff rail right where my hand was resting a moment ago. That was a little too close for comfort. But with this wind we won’t have to endure but two, maybe three more rounds from the fort before we’re clear. As long as we don’t lose a mast we might pull this off.
The pinnace and a lugger have heeded the alarm and are piling on sail trying to get out the north end of the Throat. Good, that will allow us to board under cover of the rock and out of the fort’s line of site. We race up the east shore to keep the fort’s guns at the longest range we can. Once again the fort erupts in smoke. The <i>Jezebelle</i> lurches and staggers as several heavy balls acquaint themselves with her hull, but most of them go long. They haven’t compensated for our speed and have overshot. The sails and masts are in better shape than I could have possibly hoped for at this point. Now the race is on to get past the rock before they can reload for a third round at close range.
We are closing fast on the lugger, and it is going to be a tight pinch to keep between her and the eastern shore, especially at this speed. I am a leaf on the wind. I am a leaf on the wind! Almost there… the next round from the fort starts, but they are too late. We are alongside the lugger now, with her between us and the fort. Angus looks my way and I give him a small nod. <b>BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!</b> He fires off our salute, straight into the side of the hapless lugger. It sounds thin next to the great booming of the fort’s guns, but it gives the crew a smile.
We are now closing fast on the pinnace, who is having to slow down to maneuver the tight northern passage. We’ll have to slow ourselves as well, if we hope to have any chance of boarding her. All sails furled, we glide up along side of her. Slower, slower, <b>NOW!</b> We spring to her deck like we were shot out of our own guns. The captain and crew are standing stock still with their jaws hanging open. “Fools!†one whispers. “Drunks†murmurs another. “Madmen!†shouts the captain. “All of de above!†laughs Fred Bob. I’m really starting to like this guy! The captain then quietly hands over his sword and accompanies Angus to the <i>Jezebelle’s</i> hold. We are in possession of the pinnace without so much as a scuffle.
“Alright, stop dilly-dallying around there! Fred Bob, get this crate underway. Doc and the rest of you, back to the <i>Jezebelle</i>! Set full sail!†<i>Jezebelle</i> catches the following breeze and quickly comes up to speed. Whoah, maybe too much speed there. Hard-a-starb’rd to avoid hitting the pinnace. Hard-a-port to not ground on the eastern shore. Hard-a-starb’rd again to avoid the rock that splits the northern channel! She lurches and lunges like a drunken whore, all the while going faster and faster. A glance back shows that Fred Bob has his own ideas of fun, as he has the pinnace sideways to the eastern pass, completely blocking it, and has opened fire on the lugger. She hauls down her colors before we have cleared the northern inlet. But now, another side of Fred Bob comes out, and he continues to pour shot into her until she sinks, all hands on board.
Shocked and in silence we complete our run back to Octopus Bay and our rendezvous with the <i>Mephisto</i> and Larousse, making what repairs we can on the way. The crew is in high spirits at the success of our little caper, but also tempered by the shocking display of cold heartedness from the new boatswain. I’ll have to keep him on a tighter leash from now on. But for tonight, we’ll toast our success and revel in the pure exhilaration of being alive. And collect on my bet from Larousse…
“You sure I can’t buy you some new oars for that dinghy?†she quips, with that knowing smirk on her face. Claire is a true believer in firepower. To hell with maneuvering, just blast ‘em all to splinters. I had merely to suggest that she might be interested in taking command of the <i>Mephisto</i>, and she had her beloved Privateer <i>Cheri</i> in dry dock so fast it made my head spin. “Great thundering guns and fathom thick hulls are all fine and dandy†I says to her, “but with my speed under sail and quick firing four pounders, I can take on anything you can with that pokey barge of yours!†Well, the rum keeps flowing and the bragging keeps growing, and before I know it, I find myself bellowing out “I’ll take that wager!â€
Wait… what did I just agree to? Oh shizzah! Look what the rum has gotten me into now. I have just bet that I can sail <i>Jezebelle</i> around the island from Octopus Bay, up the Throat to the harbor at Falaise de Fleur, put a prize crew aboard the pinnace we had seen there, sail back out again, and rejoin LaRousse at Octopus Bay. The kicker is I have to do it in broad daylight and with the Black Jack nailed to the masthead and in plain view of the gun-bristling fort. My grog soaked mind is fumbling for excuses when our newest addition to the crew, a burly boatswain named Fred Bob, gives me a slap on the back, about knocking me off my stool in the process, and proclaims “Dat be de spirit matey! Fred Bob be askin’ fer de job o’ prize crew on dis here shrimpin' expetition! Fred Bob be thinkin’ this be great fun, it shore be!â€
I’m a little skeptical of Fred Bob’s enthusiastic confidence in my abilities, seeing as how he has yet to walk the deck under my command, but there is no backing out now. So we toss back our rum and head for the door… no, wait. This is going to require more rum! Back to the bar for another round of liquid courage. Blazes, I wish they had some Snakebite in this joint! We stumble our way out of the bar and head for the gates leading out of the town. I take note of the conditions, a twenty knot tops’l breeze from the WNW. Should make for a brisk broad run to the southern entrance, and a broad reach up the Throat. Not perfect, but pretty damn good. This just might work. Or is that just the rum talking? Only one way to find out.
We jump in the boats and head out to the ships anchored in the bay. I was having a bit of trouble getting my legs to cooperate going up the side of <i>Jezebelle</i>, but Angus, my mountain of a gunner, grabs me by the collar and swings me aboard like a gunny sack, saving me the ignoble humiliation of a dunking. We sidle up next to the <i>Mephisto</i> and offload all the powder and shot. Light and fast, light and fast I keep repeating to myself. I am a leaf on the wind! Angus asks if he can keep the guns loaded with one round. Well, one round out of the mouth of four pounders won’t accomplish much, but it will let us give the fort a “salute†as we pass. If we pass. Over go the wheat and the rum. Belay there with that rum! We’ll be needing that more than powder on this run. I pick 3 of the best barrels to keep and send the rest over. We’ll be lucky if there is any of it left by the time we get back! On board comes sailcloth, 20 bales. Another 25 of planks goes down into the hold under the supervision of Chips, the carpenter. Up anchor, bring her nose around for the run south, and we’re off. Claire heaves to just off the beach to await our return. Full sails up and running at fifteen knots. Not bad, this will do.
With clear skies and fast sailing, I’m feeling my wits slowly return to me. Well, we can’t have that now, can we? I take a deep pull off the flask of overproof I keep in my coat for just such emergencies. I’m also keeping an eye on the southern skies, as it looks to be kicking up a squall soon. Take a quick peek through the glass to the east and… whoah! What’s that? Looks to be a couple of large warships or heavy merchantmen hull down to windward and bearing away. Well, they can’t catch me even if they see me, but good to know they are there. We’re coming up on the turn into the Throat now, but the squall is racing out of the south trying to beat us there. Got to make that turn before she hits us! We pinch in a little closer to shore, bringing the wind a quarter point aft and eking out another bit of speed. This is going to be close. Helms-a-lee! About we go just as the squall breaks on us. She brings thirty-four knots of wind right on the stern as we begin our run down the throat. Fortune may favor the brave, but I’ll take a fool’s luck any day!
Nineteen, no, twenty knots! We’re screaming down the throat with my glass trained on the fort for the first sign we’ve been noticed. I don’t have to wait long. The fort disappears behind a wall of smoke. That Old Fart fellow is on his toes, I’ll give him that. I hear the <i>snick snick </i>sound of iron passing through canvas. A quick glance up shows only a few holes. We have faired much better than I expected, but now the water is erupting in geysers as shot lands all around us. Then CRASH! A ball has knocked a chunk out of the taff rail right where my hand was resting a moment ago. That was a little too close for comfort. But with this wind we won’t have to endure but two, maybe three more rounds from the fort before we’re clear. As long as we don’t lose a mast we might pull this off.
The pinnace and a lugger have heeded the alarm and are piling on sail trying to get out the north end of the Throat. Good, that will allow us to board under cover of the rock and out of the fort’s line of site. We race up the east shore to keep the fort’s guns at the longest range we can. Once again the fort erupts in smoke. The <i>Jezebelle</i> lurches and staggers as several heavy balls acquaint themselves with her hull, but most of them go long. They haven’t compensated for our speed and have overshot. The sails and masts are in better shape than I could have possibly hoped for at this point. Now the race is on to get past the rock before they can reload for a third round at close range.
We are closing fast on the lugger, and it is going to be a tight pinch to keep between her and the eastern shore, especially at this speed. I am a leaf on the wind. I am a leaf on the wind! Almost there… the next round from the fort starts, but they are too late. We are alongside the lugger now, with her between us and the fort. Angus looks my way and I give him a small nod. <b>BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!</b> He fires off our salute, straight into the side of the hapless lugger. It sounds thin next to the great booming of the fort’s guns, but it gives the crew a smile.
We are now closing fast on the pinnace, who is having to slow down to maneuver the tight northern passage. We’ll have to slow ourselves as well, if we hope to have any chance of boarding her. All sails furled, we glide up along side of her. Slower, slower, <b>NOW!</b> We spring to her deck like we were shot out of our own guns. The captain and crew are standing stock still with their jaws hanging open. “Fools!†one whispers. “Drunks†murmurs another. “Madmen!†shouts the captain. “All of de above!†laughs Fred Bob. I’m really starting to like this guy! The captain then quietly hands over his sword and accompanies Angus to the <i>Jezebelle’s</i> hold. We are in possession of the pinnace without so much as a scuffle.
“Alright, stop dilly-dallying around there! Fred Bob, get this crate underway. Doc and the rest of you, back to the <i>Jezebelle</i>! Set full sail!†<i>Jezebelle</i> catches the following breeze and quickly comes up to speed. Whoah, maybe too much speed there. Hard-a-starb’rd to avoid hitting the pinnace. Hard-a-port to not ground on the eastern shore. Hard-a-starb’rd again to avoid the rock that splits the northern channel! She lurches and lunges like a drunken whore, all the while going faster and faster. A glance back shows that Fred Bob has his own ideas of fun, as he has the pinnace sideways to the eastern pass, completely blocking it, and has opened fire on the lugger. She hauls down her colors before we have cleared the northern inlet. But now, another side of Fred Bob comes out, and he continues to pour shot into her until she sinks, all hands on board.
Shocked and in silence we complete our run back to Octopus Bay and our rendezvous with the <i>Mephisto</i> and Larousse, making what repairs we can on the way. The crew is in high spirits at the success of our little caper, but also tempered by the shocking display of cold heartedness from the new boatswain. I’ll have to keep him on a tighter leash from now on. But for tonight, we’ll toast our success and revel in the pure exhilaration of being alive. And collect on my bet from Larousse…
" border="0" alt="me.gif" /> Great read. Thanks!
:" border="0" alt="laugh.gif" /> that's just nuts! well, as you might have noticed already, i get a little nutty in the game at times as well. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/rolleyes.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="rolleyes.gif" /> i will continue my log later, but i have no idea when. i'm prety busy for now.
:" border="0" alt="icon_eek.gif" />
)" border="0" alt="smile2.gif" />
" border="0" alt="dunno.gif" />
" border="0" alt="no.gif" /> keith TRIED to take greenford once with a chebec, because he had no idea of it's strength. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/smile2.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="