Atana watched the the battle from the mast and rigging. She determined that this must be a male thing. The sheer violence of it and the possibility that both ships and crews could be lost. For what? She stayed small and silent watching the man in leather on her ship and the other on their ship. The pilot was to far away, but he was a good target, unless the hulls crashed in the waves and sunk them all. 

With a small word and a gesture, she threw a knife that seemed to hover in the air. Atana decided to attack there maneuverability. Without their main sails to drive them, it would be harder to turn and run. It would also give her ship a tactical advantage. They would be watching for flaming arrows, not a single floating knife.  

Atana had learned a little about sails from being in port. Sails loose strength as they age, wind rain, sun and cold all cause them to break down. She did her best to puncture the main sails where they billowed then forced of the wind. Like a woman cutting fabric, once the cut was made the fabric once to strong to rip would would rip down the weave with ease. What she was doing would not be noticed, with luck, till after the deck battle had started to rage.