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*Aeoess hands him one*

"If we are to be taken I want you to find the right moment and free yourself from whatever cell you are in, and if possible free a few others as well.

My intentions are to make sure we are not to be taken for long, and to help free the crew and the captain if the captain has nothing better in mind."

"...Yeah, probably, but it's not impossible to get out of the irons, especially when you've been locked in them before."

*Aeoess looks to Ares*

"Who says we need to take the ship? We just need to escape, whether it's on their ship, on in England where they'll port.
If we have the chance to do it in England, that would be our best bet, we'd only have a few guards to either distract, knock out, or possibly kill, instead of the whole ship full of British seamen to deal with."

(ooc: Reminer to everyone: My character is very delusional.)

"Yes, we should plan! But before we do, do you know of the other ship's layout at all? Like where the cells would be and where all possible safe, and unsafe exits would be?"

(|Continued from the Master Cabin|)

*Coming on deck, Jack strode to the shrouds and hopped up onto the quarterail. Looking aft, he spun around and peered forward into the bows. Taking a short leap off the rail, his boots landed hard on the deck. The sounded seemed to shake the boards who seemed to sigh under his weight. The old wood hadn't been recaulked or treated in ages, and now she was showing her age. But nonetheless, she would hold true,as she always had before.

His hands firmly grasped behind his back, Jack paced to the helm and gazed at the compass inside the glowing binnacle. Swaying to and fro, it indicated their northern progress: a slow progress, but leeway nonetheless. Looking forward, Jack set his eyes upon the same woman that had just strode from his cabin not a minute before. He was determined that she opened that packet. It was vital.

In a rather loud and booming voice, Jack made his intensions clear.*

"Mr. Vanstring, pass the word for Miss Midnight, if you please."

- Mounted high in the crosstrees of the mainmast which had been braced with capstan bars and secrued in place by 7 inch line, Horatio peered at the 'Lady Washington' through the glass he'd borrowed from one of his multiple cookie-cutter officers. The long midshipman's glass focused jsut so upon the brig's quarterdeck and in doing so spotted the ships company moving about the deck.

It had been sometime since the Officer of the Watch had reported any movement aboard the little ship that floated not far off. But now, as the golden gleam of epaulettes and dark blue frockcoat appeared on the quarterdeck, the lookout called out from the foremast, "ON DECK THERE! ENEMY MOVEMENT, SIR!"

"Thank You, Mr. Collins...". The sound of his captain's voice coming from directly behind rather than from ondeck seemed to startle the unobservant lookout. Jumping from his comfortable postion, the poor seaman lost his footing and fell from the yardarm he was purched upon. Plummeting downwards, the limp form splashed into the rolling waves, creating quite a stir ondeck.

"MAN OVERBOARD!!!" Horatio cried to deck as the men below hurried to heave anything that floated over the side. The fool that thrashed in the water far below swam for a rope fender and having lodged himself on it, sat there helpless until a boat would lay alongside and pluck him from the Antlantic.

Turning back to his studies of the enemy vessle, he wondered why Jack hesitated to act. It had been nothing but stern-sights since Gibraltor and now it seemed as if he'd have to take the weathergauge and wind from his old friend. He hated to do it, but his orders expressly stated that the rouge pirate and his crew were to be taken into custody and that the brig was to be taken aprize.

But now 'Lucky Jack' had retaken his place upon deck. What was he planning? What was going to be his next move? Only time would tell, so for now, Horatio leaned back against the mast and sat comfortabley nestled in his place in the crosstrees. The hustle and bustle of attempting to fish out the lookout seemed to fade into the background as the wind ripped through the rigging and the strain of the rigging and the filling of the vast spread of canvas sang aloud a song of utter peace. This would be the last peaceful night. In the morning, the 'Boadicea' would move in for the kill. -

*Smirking at the smeared english*

"Very good, Mr. Vanstring... very fine."