“I wish I was a gunner’s mate aboard a man-o-war!” Lars the shanty man sang from his post at the mainmast. 


“Sam’s gone away, aboard a man-o-war,” the crew roared back as they heaved on the line to hoist the mizen top-sail. 


“I wish I was a gunner’s mate aboard a man-o-war!”

“Sam’s gone away, aboard a man-o-war.”
[url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGLAHpnXgXE[/url]

Jessica Scarlet hummed the chorus as she stood upon the quarter deck of the Weather Witch, peering at the approaching coastline through a brass bound spy glass. The south easterly wind was freshening as dawn broke behind them, filling the straining sails of the twelve gun sloop as she sliced through the aquamarine waters. There was a cheer as the mizen topsail unfurled and caught the wind, dragging them slightly leeward as the lines were hauled taut.


Captain Scarlet, or Red Jess as she was sometimes called, sniffed the air, tasting the tang of salt and the green earthy smell of distant jungles. She glanced behind her at the gray and lowering sky. There would be a storm later, but she intended to be well out to sea by the time it struck. She was of average height, with an athletic figure made hard by years of clambering up and down the rigging. Her red hair hung loose to her shoulders, partially controlled by a bandana and tricorn hat. A coat of black linen with gold stitching hung around her shoulders though the heat of the day would soon force her to shuck it. She blinked her blue green eyes and squinted through the glass again, noting the point where the white caps began to form, a sure sign of shoaling waters.


“Another point a-starboard if you please,” she roared. The helmsman, a massive Lesoutan named Pelae, was only a few feet away, but the command was meant to be heard by the whole ship. Sailors liked to know what was going on and Jess tried to oblige them where she could.

“Point a-starbord, aye,” Pelae replied, turning the great oak wheel slightly so that the Witch hardened up to the wind, running nearly parallel to the coast line.


“Hands to set stunsails!” Jessica shouted, watching with a critical eye as her crew began swarming up the rigging to shake out even more canvas to the rhythmic beat of Lars’ song. Krycek, the first mate, stomped up onto the quarterdeck. The dwarf was as broad as two men and so heavily muscled that it seemed to Jess that he might break his own bones if he flexed them all at once. His head was bald for all that his thick red beard reached to his chest. He wore no shirt, but was covered with intricate nautical tattoos.


“Ye weel rip thee stick out-o her if ye keep this up,” he grumped, scowling as though Jess had embarked on a conspiracy to do just this.

“Good morning Krycek,” Jess responded as she closed the glass with a snap. She could make out the mouth of the bay that was her target now and was satisfied they were on course.


“Don’t worry, the wind will slacken as we get into the shadow of the coast,” she assured him.

“Dinnae worry she says,” the dwarf continued to grouch. Jessica grinned, Krychek would bitch if they hanged him with a golden rope. It was a fine morning with a good wind and the taste of salt on the air, and who could complain about that?


“Flash!” a top man shouted, and Jessica’s eye was drawn to the small promontory that formed the eastern arm of the unnamed bay. A puff of smoke was visible in the air, followed a moment later by a column of water lifting a hundred yards behind the Weather Witch. It seemed that the Ran-tai were as methodical as ever. There was a battery up on the headland keeping look out. This was a challenge gun, not an attempt to sink her ship, though that would come soon enough.


“Run up the colors Mr Avery!” Jessica shouted. Wheels squealed as the green and white ensign of the Serene Dominion of Ran-tai rose to catch the breeze, snapping like a coachwhip.

“A half point to starboard Mr Pelae,” Jessica instructed, “make it look like we are a merchantman shying away.” The helmsman complied, and though there were no further shots, Jess fancied she could see activity around the distant smoke shrouded battery. No doubt they were sending men to inform the locals that another ship had hove into view. 


“Diya think it weel take them mor’n a minute to realize ye are flying everything by yer wee knickers?” Krycek complained. Jessica’s smile broadened. Krychek wanted to shorten sail, and so he was framing everything in a way that would lead to that opinion. She pulled a coin from a pocket and made the gold dubloon dance across her knuckles before flipping into the air with her thumb and slapping it down to reveal the crowned head of Emperor Carlos.

“I think, that if this Ran-tai princling knows a stunsail from his asshole, he will be unique in all the world,” she told her first mate. Ran-tai was a powerful nation that controlled vast swaths of territory in the northern jungles and on the heavily populated plains beyond, but they were newcomers to the sea. Their officers were of their noble classes and had little to recommend them beyond their pedigree. They wouldn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. 


“Two sails!” the topman shouted down as fifteen minutes later they reached the mouth of the bay. It was broad and well sheltered, a sandy crescent where several small streams drained the low interior hills. Green lantana climbed from the sand to the low headland. Two vessels were in the process of trying to lift anchor, one was a merchantman, beamy as a butter tub with two masts studded with over wide yards, the other a three masted warship flying the same ensign as the Weather Witch. Unlike the battery on the headland, the crew of the warship was quickly realizing there was no reason for a friendly ship to come charging into the bay at nearly twelve knots. Jessica could see green coated officers shouting orders as men swarmed up the rigging to set sails. She had already cut her cables and was drifting slowly to leeward. Sloppy that, as if the wind shifted she might be driven a ground before she got underway.


“Hard over Mr Pelae,” Jessica instructed, feeling the familiar thrill of catching an enemy by surprise. She ran to the quarterdeck railing and cupped her hands around her mouth.


“Run out the guns!” she shouted down into the waist. The shanty cut off abruptly as men ran down to the gun deck. Tackles squealed as the covers were removed and the six twelve pounder guns were run out. Jessica hummed the last few bars of the shanty’s chorus.

“Run out to port!” she called and the process was repeated on the other side of the ship. Some of the newer members of the crews grumbled, but they were corrected with slaps and punches from their more seasoned comrades. Jessica’s orders sometimes seemed eccentric, but the old timers knew they were never without purpose. Jess watched the enemy ships struggle to react. It was better luck than she could have hoped for that the Ran-tai warship had anchored closer to shore than the vessel it was safe guarding. A Lesoutan ship in a similar position would have anchored in the mouth of the bay with springs on her cables so she could command the seas without ever having to set sail. Evidently the Ran-tai had wanted to be closer to shore for ease of bringing aboard supplies. Jess could make out boats pulling furiously towards the warship from where they had evidently been making camp. 

“Run up the colors!” she shouted as the Ran-tai ensign came down. There was no need to clarify which colors she meant, as the black skull and crossbones sailed aloft.


“Fire as you bear!” she shouted, a heartbeat before her first gun went off. She didn’t need to tell her crew when it was time to start shooting. The Weather Witch cut across the bow of the Ran Tai warship at almost the maximum range of the guns. Greyish pencil lines sprang from the crashing discharges and stinking clouds of gun smoke. The first two shots went wide, splashing on either side of the ship before the third shot smashed the figurehead of the ship into a cloud of flying splitters. A great cheer went up from the crew as the next shot shattered the bow sprit, dropping a tangle of timber and lines into the sea. Jessica saw flashed from the Ran-tai ship as her bow chasers touched off. The heavy long guns hammered heavy shot her way and a hole appeared in the mainsail as a lucky shot howled over head.


“Reload and secure port guns! Mr Pelae, hard a-lee!” Jessica shouted, all but hopping with excitement as the gun crews sponged the guns with buckets of sea water to quench any embers still burning in the breeches before ramming fresh bags of gunpowder into place. The Weather Witch heeled over as she arrowed straight into the bay. The sails snapped as they luffed, losing some of the following wind.


“Are ye blind! Haul away ye droolin’ pond scum!” Krycek roared as men leaped to pull cables tight. The Witch was slowing, though still held a prodigious turn of speed. They were only a few hundred feet from the merchantman now and her crew were obviously in a panic. Axemen cut her cables as her first sails shook out but it was a foul wind for leaving harbor. The sun was well up now and beating down on the shore, making everything seem to glow an emerald green. A shot crashed overhead and Jess looked up with a scowl to see the battery on the headland was joining the fight.


“She’s presentin’!” Krychek warned and Jess looked up to see the Ran-tai warship turning to bring her starboard guns to bear. It was going to be too late. The Weather Witch passed behind the merchantman, at the same moment the enemy guns bore. Jessica grabbed the wheel from Pelae and turned it hard. The Witch crashed into the side of the other ship in a scream of splintering timber. Men screamed and there were a handful of shots from the merchantman as desperate sailors fired muskets or pistols. It wasn’t a smooth collision but rather a series of crashes as the hulls rebounded from one another on reflected waves. Jessica held on grimly as scantlings snapped and yards collided, ripping away. The important thing was to bleed off momentum that would otherwise carry them into the shallows. The noise was tremendous, like two forests colliding. Men on both ships screamed and several went down in showers of splinters.

“Stand to starboard guns!” Jessica bellowed as loud as her lungs would allow. The Witch had lost much of her speed in the deliberate collision, but she slipped free of the other ship no faster than a trotting horse. Jess put the helm hard over, swinging the ship in a lazy circle that pointed her loaded starboard guns directly at the stern of the Ran-tai ship. All six guns fired at once in a colossal explosion of fire and powdersmoke. The quarter gallery of the enemy ship exploded in splinters of glass and timber as all six guns raked the enemy vessel, cannonballs careening down the length of her like scythes. More importantly Jessica saw the enemy ship wobble as its rudder post was shot away.

“Clue up! Clue up! Stand for stay! Gunners reload!” Jess shouted as hands swarmed aloft to reset sails. The wind that had driven them in to the bay was a memory now, replaced by a warming land breeze off the coast, it was but it was enough to keep maneuvering way on. The Ran-tai warship had finally built up some speed, but without her rudder she had no way to maneuver. Men clambered up and down the rigging in confusion, but it was a good bet her captain had been killed by the raking which had shattered her stern castle. The ship's momentum was carrying her towards the headland with no rudder to steer her. A crack crew might have been able to get anchors away before they struck, but these were no tarry deep sea jacks and anyway, they had cut their cables, the best crew in the world couldn’t have brought fresh sea anchors up in time.  Before order could be established the ship came to a crashing halt. Men who had been aloft were shaken free, the lucky ones plunged into the shallow water, while the less fortunate struck the deck, breaking bones or worse. There was a tremendous shriek of ripping timber as the foremast came away, ripped free when the rudderless vessel had run around. It toppled in a nest of rigging, dragging lines and spars down in ruin. The ship was helpless and under Jess’ guns but there was no time to finish her off. There was a crack above as the shore battery sent another ball through the topsails, they were struggling to depress the guns far enough, but that wouldn’t last. That didn’t matter, it was the merchant that she was after, not the warship.


 Jess turned her attention to the merchantman who had managed to get her sails set and was picking up speed. Jess cupped her hands into a trumpet.


“Strike! Strike for  your lives!” she shouted to the captain.

“Prepare borders!” Krychek yelled, louder by far than Jess and with more impact. The pennon fluttered down as the merchant ship struck. Wisely, the captain didn’t attempt to shorten sail, correctly surmising that Jess would want him to move out of the bay and away from the battery’s harassing fire.

“Pretty work, brave boys, pretty work I say," Jessica hummed. 

[@POOHEAD189]