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*John finally gets a patch on, then a cannon blew right through it*

... stare

*Looks over to Aeoess*

Seems like they're back in range....

scream HOW DID I SEW MYSELF TO THE SAIL, AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! scream

stressed stressed stressed


crying

*She looks up at the sails, where John and the others were*
Stop lolly-gagging, ye scurvy dogs! Sew in peace or scrape off the barnacles next time!
*she directs a statement solely for John*
As a high-ranking officer, I'd expect ye to stick to yer strengths and direct the lot of us on what to do...

*The Boadicea lay in the offing, a little West by South. The only sounds coming from her were those eminating from within her lower decks and the sound of the pumps hard at work. The hands, having been ordered to house the great guns against their portlids, were sitting about the deck splicing and knotting like madmen. Soon, the new jurymast the carpenter had fashioned out of the shot away topgallant yarmarm was stretching up into the sky suspended by ropes and pulleys, secured and a sail bent on. She took the strain, the amst groaned adn the ship lurched forward with an even greater heel to leeward. Her bow-wake ploughed strong and true even though she had only gained an additional 2 knots on her already limping 8 knots. Though compared with the swift-sailing 9 knots the Lady Washington was making, the additional knot would bring their guns to bear once more. A general cheer went up from the handsall about the decks as the sound of rushing water tore down her side.

"Silence, fore and aft!", resounded about the ship, and the cheer died instantly, aside from one or two men who had been made deaf from cannon fire. The Officer of the Watch returned from bellowing at the crew and set back to attempting his Noon-time Sightings. It was a tradition in the Royal Navy, and most navies for that matter, for All officers, sailing master, his mate & midshipmen to have their sextants trained on the sun at Noon so as to find their precise ocation on the globe: dead reckoning.

Lord Nelson fixed the sun in his sights and brought it down to the horizon. It beat down furosiously upon him and his officers, their all wearing heafty blue frocks, they would surely die of this heat if they did not wet their whistles soon enough. This thought was broken by Mr. Mowett, who in tradition brought his sextant to his side, strided to his Captains side, reported his readings and said aloud, "Noon sir, if it pleases you."

"So it does. Right then, make it Noon, Mr. Mowett" Keeping a straight authoritive face, he glanced out over the water towards their prey who, in desperation, was flying all the sail she could carry. He thought of her Captain and why he hadn't yet pulled off any capers for which he was infamous. What was he waiting for?

"Turn the Glass and Strike the Bell!" cried out Mr. Mowett, who was instantly repeated by Mr. Callomey, the senior midshipman. In response to orders, Mr. Archer, the Marine Sentry that stood at the break of the quarterdeck, stepped up and clanged out eight bells: the official beginning of a new naval day. No order was needed for what happend next, for by this point in time, it had become clock work. The Bosun and his mates put their pipes to their lips and let out the high, shrill calls to dinner, in perfect unison.

With a roar that sounded like an oncoming army, the hands rushed below in a mildly orderly fashion. The thunder of three hundred men going down 'tween decks filled the air. The remaining men about were to wait for their turn. For now they milled about on deck putting things to rights as the Boadicea glided forever onwards towards it's not-so-distant target, which seemed to lose it's headway with every hour that passed.

Nelson paced about the quarterdeck: his usual nine thousands turns quite completed, he nodded to Mr. Bainbridge, who was now releaving Mr. Mowett so he may go to Dinner within the hour. Having been ondeck for more than his usual spell, Horatio Nelson handed command over to his Second Lieutenant and went below. He thought everything of his 'Not having to wait to eat in Rotation' - 'Thank God, for his Steward'.

Steadily on, the Boadicea ploughed through her fine bow-wake. Foamed poured through her dolphin striker as she gained on the Lady. Sometime in the midafternoon watch, Lord Nelson passed along the word for the Gunner & his crew. Something was afoot, but what he had in mind was of logical enough sense. His cabin was cleared for action, and after he'd had his dinner atop of the brass 18 pounder, he had his plates taken away and the gun swung into place. He'd had a trick up his sleeve since Gibraltor, which was by now two thousand miles South.

With his gunner and a crew of the best pointers in the ship, the transom wall disappeared: folded into itself and was peeled away to reveal a vast open sea, rolling with deep blue aqua waves. Horatio was a fine hobbiest in the way of gunnery. These last two guns were his own property, pulled from his last prize in the Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. The guns made a right mess of the cabins spit and polished floors, but they did their job to a tee. This night they would be used to practice their gunmanship. Run in and out for the next four hours, these guns and the seaman who pointed them would perfect their skills and put them to use as soon as it was made possible.*

"Frankly, I'm not all that tired mate."

-He sat down on the deck and wiped the sweat of his forehead.-

Crouching on the stairs leading up to the helm, her hands dangling in between her legs, Syn sat there, looking a little bedraggled even though she hadn't done nearly as much as some of the crew. Watching the rest of the crew move about, some lying down and others leaning against things, she sighed and lowered her head, dismayed by what had occurred, even though they had escaped for the moment. The mood of the night and the slap of the waves against the ship's hull made her long for a violin in her hands, to run a bow across its strings and coax forth a song. A shadow passed over the ship and she lifted her head just in time to see something flying overhead, disappearing into the night.

It was an albatross.

She grunted and looked away quickly before anyone saw her watching it, glaring out into the night where surely the Boadicea lurked, eyes nearly glowing as she gnashed her teeth in anger.

"Damn ye... damn ye an' every mother's son on ya."

She had been of no use almost half of the day, lying on her back and vomiting up sea water, holding her head in her hands to stop the pounding between her two temples. Now that the sun had gone down she could look up to the sky without squinting and could feel her headache slowly recede. Deciding she felt better she slowly raised herself from the shade of a resting cannon, placing a shaky hand on the barrel to support her dizzying weight.

Looking around the ship she spotted John working on the sails, seaming to curse the starts out of the sky. Smiling she went over to help him.

"May I be of some service to you?"

Destiny slowly made her way back onto the deck. She cocked her head, but didn't hear the roar of the cannon, so they must have been able to outrun their pursuers.

As she set foot on deck, she looked about for the Captain, or another seniour officer. Seeing John and Melaria off to one side, she carefully walked over to them.

"Good evening sir, ma'am. how did we do? We're still sailing, so I guess we survived, but how is everyone else?"