Intercepted (Nightingale)

[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

1530 Hours, May 28th, 1707 - Caribbean Sea, 14 NM South of Les Cayes, Haiti (4 NM South of Pointe Abacou)

The Nightingale had been at see for close to twelve hours now, with another thirty ahead of her if the winds were fair.  Even as the sloop swiftly cut through the sea, it seemed foolish that they would ever hope to reach Charlotte Amalie in time to catch the Templars and the totem.

Or perhaps that was merely defeatism brought on by sleep deprivation.  Horatio hadn't caught more than an hour since they had departed before dawn, and he'd gotten no sleep the night before.  The men were thankfully in better shape, with a three shift system to grant relief even if they were still upset about their shore leave being abruptly cut short.

Yet Davis stood on deck, alert and at the ready.  He told himself that he'd be able to rest soon, but it seemed he'd been saying that every half hour for the past seven hours, and every time he reached that next bell the commander came up with another excuse to stay on deck just a bit longer.  He told himself that this leg would be the hardest.  The crossing between English Jamaica and French Haiti was the "front lines" if such a thing existed on the high seas.

Now they sailed close along the southern coast of Hispaniola.  The Nightingale stayed close to the coast, choosing speed over everything else.  Every league they put between themselves and the shore put them further behind schedule.  But of course that its own concerns, namely that their ship could be seen by any child on land.  "Sud" as they called it was not the most populous of regions, but the threat was real, especially as they came around the point in just a moment.

"Mister Demato." Davis called as his new companion came onto the deck.  "I hope you find the sea a bit more agreeable today."  Horatio didn't know how the man felt or how he'd take the comment, but the small talk was a needed respite from the anxiety of a looming attack.

[Vitale Demato de Cordoba[Inact]

Vitale had been below decks avoiding the crew for a while now since his little impromptu swim several few hours earlier.  He'd been working up the nerve to leave the little dorm someone called a perk.  As he well knew, sailors didn't have bunks, but rather a row of hammocks, so to have your own space on any ship, especially a sloop, was meant to be a true accomplishment.  Davis had given it too him under the guise of him being the purser, but that was only subterfuge.  Vitale had been given the task of poison grower, and having deadly plants and insects loose on the ship, or even out on the ship, or really even known of by the general human species, was a severe danger to the crew.

Vi was currently deciding on whether or not to keep the plants.  They were a gift from the guild an island over from Jamaica, and would easily thrive on seawater, but Vitale had been studying them since he woke up several hours ago.  The leaves produced their venom when the plant was agitated, as Vitale had been experimenting with for about two hours now.  His dismay came from his last experiment, when he tried to determine whether jostling the plant would get a response.

It did.

That was a sobering thought.  The codex that came with the venomous plants said that it would cause lesions and sores shortly before paralysis if applied to the skin.  If it were applied to the mouth, eyes or intimate areas, it would cause death in just at two minutes.  Not a bad poison, to be sure.  Vitale had worked with worse natural killers in his time, but never outside of a controlled conservatory, built with spread prevention in mind.  The idea of having a deadly blight seething around the damp ship during a storm, or having it thrown around via a cannonball was a nasty idea.  Vitale sighed as he came to the most logical conclusion, it couldn't remain aboard.  Not that he just loved poison, but it was necessary for their goals, and the insects poisons were like nothing in comparison.  He would have to get a hold of a snake, pure and simple.

Vitale picked up the plants carefully, and deposited them into a heavy leather sack, then tied them inside sturdily.  Then, with a remorseful walk, he trudged up to the deck his load in tow.  When he emerged into the sunlight, the great source of warmth was already on its way to the horizon.  How late was it getting?  The Captain, or master, or commander, or whatever his title was, called out to him, in what Vitale was sure was an attempt to draw attention to the man who'd been tossed off the ship by a woman.  He ignored the idea, and dismissed it as nerves, instead choosing to view his greeting as simply that, a greeting.

"Captain Davis," Vitale answered his Assassin Master as he tossed the sack and its nasty contents to the sea behind, "I do indeed.  You do seem far less interested in chasing storms than my last Captain.  Do you think we will avoid them entirely in this new era of my sea-life?"

[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

"Captain Davis," came the reply. "I do indeed. You do seem far less interested in chasing storms than my last Captain. Do you think we will avoid them entirely in this new era of my sea-life?"

"Clear skies from here to eternity." Horatio answered. It was still May which meant the Caribbean was as calm as it was ever going to get, but weather was a fickle friend. Vitale likely had never been in a true storm before so the slightest hiccup might send him to the rail after whatever he'd tossed a moment earlier.

"If only there were a way to control the wind and the seas, I could give you a definite answer." he commented, alluding to the very item they sought, mere fantasy for any other ears aboard. "Nothing is true. Everything is permitted." he recited. "Our path is unknown both in duration and direction."

After a brief moment, Horatio then said, "You should have weighted it more." Catching the questioning look from his comrade at the sudden change of subject, he pointed to the sack floundering in their wake and then at the nearby point of land. "I assume your intent was not for it to reach land. Coincidentally the closest we'll come to it until Saint Thomas."

The commander then turned from the sack now far aft of the ship and back to their eastward heading. "Storm's coming."

[Vitale Demato de Cordoba[Inact]

The Captain seemed in a good mood, even though his simple statements seemed compounded in so many layers of meanings that Vitale wasn't even sure he'd caught them all. "Hopefully not so much direction. But we'll make due before the end..." As he said it, they both looked off the tail of the ship. Davis pointed out that the sack had not sunk, and was indeed weaving its way through the waves to shore.

"Well. How do you like that," Vi asked absently, as the Captain laid out that his decision to abandon the poison here was likely the worst time to do so. Hopefully the leather would give at some point, and the sack would sink to the bottom. If it did reach the shore, heaven help whoever opened it, the entire bag would be contaminated by now. Davis turned away from the shore to their stern, and announced "Storm's coming."

Vitale turned in his direction, and followed his line of sight to the horizon. He hadn't seen any dark clouds earlier, but now he saw one dark one at the edge of the world, followed by a distinctive white sail. He stepped closer to the rail of the poop, and peered out as well as he could. "The clouds, or the sails?" No one could have known they were sailing today of all days, and even if they had, they couldn't possibly have made better time. Not in Vitale's opinion. And even if he were wrong, making better time, sailing far enough around to stay out of sight, and then turn to sail straight at them? That didn't seem logical. "Do you recognize her?" Another of the sailors standing near by handed what they all called the "Lead" to the Captain, who stared through the device for a long while. When he dropped it, Vitale waited for what seemed like five minutes, though it were surely less. He looked back across the waves, then to the Lieutenant standing nearby. The man peered out at the coming vessel, then up at something atop their mast, then at the sky around them, before turning to the Captain and adding the urgency that Vitale felt creeping up in him, "Sir?"

What possible threat could a ship so far away possibly pose?

[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

"The clouds, or the sails?" Demato asked from beside him.

It wasn't the single cloud that concerned the commander. Vitale was smart enough to pick up on the possible underlying meaning, but not seasoned enough as a sailor to rule out the literal possibility. No, it was the approaching ship that was the storm. They'd rounded the point and were there for all the world to see. Small as it was, the French had men at nearby Les Cayes.

Without words, the captain signaled for the chip log to be tossed aft of the ship and then pulled up the spyglass to get a better look. It was merely a formality at this point. He already knew they were moving about 18 knots, but the sailing master's confirmation would be welcome. Now, seeing the other ship magnified, he judged their bearing a moment before declaring the Nightingale's speed was irrelevant.

"Do you recognize her?" the purser had asked earlier.

"Thirty guns. Looks like a smaller version of the Dauphine." Davis finally stated. "It's the Embuscade." There were few enough light frigates operating in the area and as far as Horatio could think, there were maybe only two French thirty gunners that had not been destroyed or captured earlier in the war. This was either the Embuscade or the Meduse, and the uncanny resemblance to Pierre Chaillé's previous design made certain it was the former.

The entire crew on the quarterdeck was looking to him anxiously, Vitale most anxious of all. They couldn't run, not forever. The French had the wind and their intercept course had been well plotted to catch the Nightingale before she passed. That meant they'd have to fight eventually, but they were woefully outclassed. Even as a light frigate, the Embuscade still had half again as many guns and men.

"Sir?"

Davis dropped the spyglass and turned toward the main deck. "Beat to quarters and clear for action." he bellowed before turning to those immediately surrounding him. "Bainbridge, to the gun deck. Quick and accurate. Go!" Without waiting for a response he moved on to the sailing master. "Prep the capstan and let out the lead." Finally and solemnly, "Mister Cordoba... get a sword and pistol."

[Sidney Bainbridge[Inactive]]

Bainbridge had been topside of the ship as they sailed. Like the captain he had been up since the becoming of the voyage. Unlike the captain he had gotten a full nights.sleep the night before and was full well and ready for the journey. As always Sidney had made it rounds of the ship checking it from top to bottom making sure it was all in order. He of course paid special attention to the guns.

Bainbridge had no doubt that the guns played the most important role in making sure the captains ship projected power while at sea. If all had gone well they wouldn't have needed to use them. Of course when they crested around the point there was no mistaking that they would be forced to show the full forces and skill of the Nightingale. Sidney knew what his duties would be. As Captain Davis looked through the spyglass Sidney eyed the status of the crew.

With the swift words of the captain the crew was sent to task. "Sir." Sidney simply replied confering he had indeed received the order clearly and with that he.stepped down from his position a few feet from the captains side. With a hasty step he made his was to the gun deck. Many of the men had already made their way on to the deck with the bellowing call of the captain for Bainbridge to report there.

Sidney walked the line for a moment with a word as more filed in. The look on Sidney's face was all they needed to know that he was expecting a fight. Finally as the last few made it on to the deck Bainbridge spoke. "Man the guns. I was all stations ready now." He commanded to the gun crews. Sidney walked to the first open gun port looking out at the target as it grew in the distance. They ship they faced out sized them and had them bet on guns. It would take the right maneuvering from the captain to make this a clean battle. Sidney had no doubt in his mind that this would be the case with Davis leading the Nightingale.

[Vitale Demato de Cordoba[Inact]

Vitale watched the Master while he debated and then at last call the ship to arms. Vi watched as all men ran to and fro, and a set of drums kicked up with a fast and steady paced beat. As Davis gave out his commands, Cordoba looked back behind the ship for only a moment, thinking how glad he was to have disposed of the sack earlier, and took a small comfort in that the sack was well drenched, and looking to sink after all. Next time he would weight it proper, that was a mistake that might take lives unnecessarily. The Master turned to Vitale last of all, in a less authoritative voice he said, "Mister Cordoba... get a sword and pistol."

Perhaps it did reserve authority, simply lacked the boom of his shouts from moments ago. Vitale looked back to the ship so very far away, and was curious if it simply took a long time to get the ships ready, or if they were closing much faster than he'd supposed. Regardless, Vitale nodded with a slight bow, "Very well Sir." And then turned to the lower deck. As he passed the crew, Vitale got to see first hand what beat to quarters meant. Men hustled about, pulling the sail's lines, and tying down the knots more heartily. There were several barrels on deck being nailed shut and hastily rolled away to safety. Once below decks, Vi watched men uncorking the cannons, and prepping them for fire, an orchestrated display of battle readiness. Long rams were shoved into cannons as he passed, and some men were using rope pulleys to press the tips of the cannons out their gun ports. When he walked hunched by Mr. Bainbridge, the two shared a smile, and Bainbridge patted him on the shoulder, before heading down the line, always doubling up on everything, making sure the deck was armed at all points.

Vitale closed into his room, and took up his cutlass and his favorite pistol and dawning them before briskly trotting to his door to find Bronach.  He'd already had his hidden blades attached since that morning, and they by themselves ought to have been more than plenty, but he'd never been in a ships battle before, who knew?  Vitale considered keeping his coat on for a while longer, but removed it at his door, and tossed it atop his hammock before departing and assembling himself.  As he finished tying his belt, and then slid his sword into it, he said, "Lady Rourke, would you lend your sword to the deck?" He stepped aside for her, and after a few moments he added, "I thought you might have an idea as to how we could avoid cannons until the Nightingale were ready for boarding and at that time, a way to access the enemies Captain?"

[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

The crew was quick to follow orders, even Vitale who presumably had never been in a naval engagement in his life.  Watching from the shore didn't count nor could any battle fought on land compare.  Hundreds of men crowded into a small target that offered remarkably poor protection from enemy fire and was prone to sink or explode with all hands... no, it wasn't the same as fighting in a nice field or better yet from behind a stone fortification.

No, Nightingale was at sea and that meant her only defense was maneuverability.  As important as guns were, they would win or lose this battle based on their sailing.  So as the two ships sailed closer and closer, the captain took in all around him.  They needed to win, and they needed to win decisively if they intended to carry on with their mission.  Davis thought on his ship, on the enemy ship, what he knew of the French captain, the current weather, the local sea... everything.

"Sir?" the Quartermaster asked hesitantly from behind the wheel.

"Steady." Horatio replied almost in a disinterested tone before turning to the master's mate expectantly.

"I don't know." he replied to the intense gaze.  "Maybe twelve fathoms.  Hard to tell as this speed."

"Hmm." The commander turned back around to look across the deck in front of him.  Busy as it was, much of the crew had since disappeared or clustered at their stations.  A few remained ever occupied with the thousands of ropes controlling the sails, but they were the exception rather than the norm.  A moment later the first gun poked its barrel out of a gun port.  Then another and another.  Before long, Bainbridge had all 20 guns run out and ready to fire.  The sailing master reported as much as he stood beside Horatio, but again the commander seemed disinterested.

This time he was preoccupied with the enemy vessel, once again with the spyglass to his eye.  Embuscade was still on course to intercept them, and the quartermaster was still hesitant to steer straight toward that meeting point.  "Hold fast." he ordered.  Then, "Sounding!"

"Ten, sir... I think." the master's mate replied.

"Good."  Davis answered.  "The capstan?"

"Manned and ready." the sailing master replied.

Horatio gazed through his lense at the magnified light frigate.  "Starboard guns make ready!"  There were a few questioning glances as the enemy ship was coming up on the larboard side, but the commander ignored them.  "Almost..." he said quietly to himself.


(Pew pew starts next round of posts.)

[Sidney Bainbridge[Inactive]]

Bainbridge checked one by one as each cannon was loaded and ridden forward in to the ready position. The crews worked fast and accurately as they had done so many times before in prior engagements as well as the many time that Sidney had run them through training on it. They would be ready to left all hell break loose as soon as they were in range and lined up. For now though it was a waiting game while Captain Davis took them in and lined up for what was to to come. 

"Corwin, bring the grape shot and carcass up for the next volley." Sidney commanded of one of the men on the deck. As he looked out one of the ports to the incoming ship. They would need to weaken its personnel along with the ship to make sure they were ready. As soon as they punched a hole in the ship it would be time to follow through with the grape shot to weaken the man power and the carcass round to light firsts as well as release gases that would clear more of the crew from the inner decks of the ship. 

For Sidney this point was always the most nerve racking part. The waiting, he hated the waiting for everything to start. Sidney's hand grazed along his back where he could feel his hidden blade resting. After a moment Sidney gave way from his position watching through the port of the ship and made his way back to the bow and waited for the moment they would be in range.

[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

The two ships were nearly on top of each other now, coming alongside each other on a narrow angle of otherwise nearly parallel courses. They were destined to meet at near pointblank range for a classic broadside engagement, an engagement the frigate would almost assuredly win.

Davis kept his eye on the opposing ship and her young captain in particular back on the quarterdeck as the Embuscade also cleared and prepared to fire. "Sounding?" he asked again without dropping the glass from his eye.

"Eight." came the nervous reply from the master's mate.

In that moment the commander turned from the enemy ship and toward his own as he issued a flurry of orders. "Hard to larboard! Drop anchor and furl sails! Ready on the starboard guns! Fire when she comes about!" Commands which were repeated and then carried out across the ship in that order.

Just as the Embuscade had nearly caught up, the Nightingale pitched hard left from rudder, sails, and then the anchor suddenly catching on the shallow seabed beneath them and further jerking the ship around. Nithingale spun with such speed the commander needed to grab a rail for balance and gritted his teeth as the prow came within feet of striking the unawares Embuscade.

Instead of a collision, however, Nightingale narrowly missed the larger vessel which was still gliding along at full speed. The sloop had dropped back behind the enemy vessel before the French could realize what was happening and fire off a single shot. More importantly, Nightingale was now turned to fire, facing the enemy's exposed rear, and so close it would be near impossible to miss. Davis didn't even need to give an order before the raking firing started.

[Sidney Bainbridge[Inactive]]

Sidney was calm at least for the moment. He had served long enough to know that there wasn't any reason to be on edge not yet at least. Not till the ship came in range. That of course was only moments away. The crew that stood with him at the guns needed the calm leadership and in moments the captain would give the order and expect the full might of the Nightingale to be let loose on the opposing ship.

The gun crew was a mix of all sorts those thathad come from prison like he himself had, common folk and even corwin who had grown up in the same town that Sidney had though not of the gentry class his family was well off. Though he was new to the ship and the royal navy as a whole Sidney could see a bright future in the navy for the young man.

Just as corwin returned with the added rounds he had requested with the help of three other crew members the orders from thecaptain were relayed down to him. "Brace yourselve." Sidney belted to the crew for the impending turn just as the ship began its turn. Seconds later the anchor hit the shallow sea bottom and the ship drug to the side and crested around the back of the opposing ship.

Fire by two on mark... Fire" he commanded to the first two gun. He walked briskly down the deck toward the next two as the first set struck the glass windows of the captains quarters sending glass and Sid shrapnel flying about. "Fire" he commanded to the second set. The second round went blasting through the same sectionof the ship carving out a deeper hole in the enemies vessel. "Last four lower your aim to the water line." Bianbridge called out as he made he way down the line the would try to punch a hole that would let on water. Had he had a few moments more he would had had them change to slide shot to try and take out their Rutter.

The third set would send one last blast to the captains quarters to rip deeper in to the ship. "Fire" and with that it was to the last four to give one final blow before they passed by. Though Sidney had been moving quickly the opposing ship was passing faster then he was moving and the remaining four would have to fire together to make them all hit.

By now the first cannons would be starting to reload for the next round. "All guns fire!" Bainbridge yelled out as he held his position half way down the line and with those shots three of the four landed along the water line the four only grazing the side of the ship. Though all three hit one truly penetrated along the waterline allowing water to spill in with ever movement of the ship and wave of the ocean. It would provide a weakness to the ship and its crew as they fought to control it and keep it from slowing and eventually sinking the ship. It wasn't a clear victory by any means but it was a start.

[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

In a few short seconds, Nightingale's small gun deck let loose on the enemy ship.  The raking fire did as expected, completely tearing through the rear of the enemy frigate.  The aft cabins were completely destroyed with a few balls tearing down the length of the ship and doing Lord knows what kind of damage to the huddled gun crews.  Bainbridge took things one step further, firing a few rounds low at the water line to both knock out the Embuscade's rudder to make maneuvering near impossible and threaten the enemy ship with sinking as water rushed in below decks.  Other than a lucky shot igniting the ship's magazine and obliterating the entire vessel, the shots had done as much damage as could be hoped for.

After the din of the last gun subsided, the captain was immediately back issuing orders.  "Hard on the capstan and weigh anchor!  Loose sails!  Ready the larboard guns!"  Finally turning to the quartermaster he instructed, "Pull through and have us about."

The young man laid into the wheel and swiftly Nightingale was pulling around to make a complete turn and head in the opposite direction back from whence they came.  The anchor was raised with surprising speed and soon they were cruising along pulling in to chase after the target.  The Embuscade meanwhile did not appear to be doing nearly as well.  They'd been raked of course and were showing the typical signs from such a devastating hit especially when delivered in such a surprise fashion.  The vessel had also taken a hit to their rudder which explained their sluggish movement, but it appeared as if the French ship was barely responding at all as if lacking any form of direction.

Davis would exploit the weakness now and worry about its cause later.  From here on out there would be no need for tricks but just a steady pounding.  The quartermaster knew what to do as he lined the Nightingale up to fire a broadside.  As they neared, the captain prepared two and three steps ahead in the battle.  "Bainbridge." he called down to the gun deck.  "Prepare bow chasers."  The sloop had gun ports for two forward facing canons, but actually lacked the physical armament.  As they prepared to fire on the larboard side, two of the starboard guns would need to be moved forward.  Hopefully they wouldn't regret lightening the starboard battery.

"Find the master-at-arms and lieutenant of marines." Davis next ordered to the master's mate who had previously been taking the soundings.  "I want snipers on the fighting tops and I want arms and grapples ready on deck."

In those short moments, the two ships were aligned side-by-side.  They were nearly ten times as far apart as before, but well within range.  And although no longer pointblank, Nightingale was moving steadily instead of listing terribly through the turn, now making for good firing conditions.  "Fire when ready."

[Vitale Demato de Cordoba[Inact]

For your listening pleasure...

Vitale and Bronach discussed their options as she hastily gathered her gear. She chose several pistols, and more than one cutlass, making Vitale wonder if he had enough weaponry on his person, but at the risk of looking foolish, he simply let the moment slide. He'd never been in a ship's battle, but he'd been involved in more assassinations than any other onboard, and had fought on the battlefields of Poland and those of the Ottoman Empire. Whatever was ahead of him, adding to his arsenal would not add to his knowledge of how to apply it. No, he would have to learn new ways to fight later, and use what he knew to the best of his ability for today. Which was all anyone could ask for.

According to Bronach, as she preferred to be called, the best route aboard the Embuscade would be to climb the fighting top of the forward mast, and then to swing aboard when the ships were close enough. Tali asked while they made their way through the sub-decks again, if it would not make more sense to climb to the rear mast, but Bronach seemed sure of her decision, and Vitale was reminded for the hundredth time in two days, that he was "Not a sailor." Once they had arrived on the main deck though Vitale could clearly see that she was correct, and that the two ships would undoubtedly cross closely at the fore. The crew looked rather on edge for their supposed bravery, and all that Vitale had been told about the courage of sailors. Even Bronach seemed nervous, if only a bit. Tali decided to ask about this while they were climbing the rigging, and the tart lass informed him that they were outgunned, out-manned and outclassed in nearly every way. When they got to the top, he asked in what way the Nightingale was 'not' out of her league, and Bronach explained rather briefly that they were faster and lighter, but added on the tail of her short explanation that the Embuscade had them on an intercept course that could not be outrun at this point. A battle was imminent, and Davis would have to quote, "Ma' som'in m'ricles appea'". She actually said it much more colorfully in her own accounting, but I digress.

"Which one is our target?" Vitale asked as Bronach tied off two lines to the main rigging. She was walking in a fashion that made Vi's skin crawl with static, and feet energize with ache, though the woman seemed to mind it little if at all. The only thing that looked to off put her, was the course of the Nightingale and Embuscade. She'd look over her shoulder and curse, then go back to her ever quickening work, and the repeat the process.

"Loo'fer the boy lover'with the biggest'at." She finally replied when she rejoined him on the wooden platform, then handed him a rope that he was suppose to use to swing across. By now, there were several other sailors and marines that had begun to ascend the rigging as well, all looking to have a similar idea or otherwise plan. Vi was about to further dig from Bronach the "Plan" himself, when she impolitely told him to stop asking questions. It wasn't his style to go into anything headlong, and "hope for the best", and he didn't like being treated as some lackey or dim witted recruit. But, there wasn't any time to do anything else.

As the Nightingale was nearly on top of the Embuscade, the Captain's call could be heard, and Bronach cursed, and shouted for him to follow her then and there, as she turned and vaulted off at an odd angle, which Vitale did in her image, but precious seconds after she'd ordered! The original idea had been to swing straight ahead, but the angle of this new swing would have them flying in at an angle that would have thrown them into the ocean of the Embuscade's larboard. But Bronach, who knew more than enough of her trade, had seen the Captain's plan clearly, and by the time their bodies arrived at the full of their swing, the Embuscade was directly in front of them. The swing had been treacherously fast, the weight of his own body pulling him down the rope in his hands, as he struggled to tighten his grip against the centrifugal force of his swing, which only gained in speed from the sudden and jarring turn of the Nightingale. Bronach was already dangling in the rigging as Vitale reached the fullest of his arch, and released his hold, hurling himself into the rope just side the gaff rigging of the stern. He hit with such force, that Tali was unable to wrap his arms or legs into the ladder of rope, and barely clutched a handful before falling the breadth between himself and the ground.

He was only able to cling to the rope for a moment or two, before his weight pulled him free, and were it not for the time that had passed being enough to slow his swaying, he might not have fell straight down, as it was, the wind flew against his pants and shirt and hair in his freefall, where he slammed into the deck of the quarterdeck, his knees bending fast to absorb the shock of his landing, though from that distance, the sting was still severe. By his face, you may not have known how much however, as his landing amidst the Officers of the Embuscade garnered all attention. Several men shouted cries of surprise, but the Captain stepped forward as though he'd expected this very thing. He was unafraid, and undaunted, and his courage inspired all around him. A large man, very large, approached Vitale from behind slowly, holding a naval axe, and looking every bit ready to cleave Vi's head from his shoulders. Vitale retained his neutral expression of impassive determination, and announced in his perfect French;

"Abandonnez maintenant, et vous vivrez"

The looks of the men around him were a mixture of confused and entertained. The accurately described, large hatted Captain declined in an equally pompous French pronunciation, and gave the order to have "this vermin killed". The biggest Frenchman on earth with the axe behind him started forward, just as a crack filled the air and was gone as quickly as a lightning bolt, and the man's head exploded in a grotesque show of meat and brain. All, including Vitale, looked upwards to the rear fighting top, to see Bronach with the rifle of a dead French marine, barrel still smoking. She gave a little wave to which the French Captain gave a "Hmmph" then turned back to Vitale, before looking beyond him, and with wide eyes screamed for the crew to cover. Before he could even finish his statement, the quarterdeck beneath Cordoba's feet erupted in earthquakes as the Nightingale opened fire! The sounds were deafening! And the Embuscade's bulk shuddered, despite her great size, as each cannon strike seemed to grow progressively stronger and the very supports of the boards beneath his feet felt to loose all strength! The silence fell as the last shot seemed to snap a complete silence to the world around them...

Moment's later, a cascade of lingering shots could be heard from the Nightingale's marine snipers as the sloop of war passed around, and even from there Vitale could distinctively hear Davis' commands, even if he could not make them out. The deck of the Embuscade roared to life! The French Captain stood and ordered Vitale's immediate death, and then turned to resume his own duties as though that would be the end of this unwelcome boarder. Vitale didn't draw his sword, but stood up strait, and faced the two men, who had cutlasses brandished. They attacked in unison, Vitale feigned to the right, and caught the sword-arm of his rightmost enemy, as both swords swung to his previous position. Vitale's foot came up quick in a sidekick, smashing the sword from his furthermost opponent's hand, and then he wrenched the arm in his grasp down, twisting the man's wrist upward, forcing him to drop his hold of the weapon. Vitale then pulled the right arm of his opponent up above their heads, and with all his might, twisted the man's arm around them, forcing him to turn his back to Vitale, where his hidden blade was embedded into the Frenchman's heart, and all threat of combat was silenced.

The second pulled a knife, and lunged for the kill, but Vitale responded even faster, punching the sailor's wrist, and then punching his rib cage, while extending his other hidden blade in the same jab! The man jerked as his reflexes realized he'd been run through, and he stared into his own death with unbelief. Vitale let the two men fall with no noise, and stalked towards the French Captain, who'd turned his back to him. He shoved past a sailor, sending the man reeling to the right, and then rammed his hidden blade in-between the Captain's third and forth ribs, his blade completely through the mans still heart.

Vitale turned as he let the man drop from his blade, and let the device retract, then pulled his pistol and cutlass to face those remaining around him, even as they watched their Captain die mid sentence. One might suppose they simply couldn't believe what was before their eyes. The Quartermaster, Vitale later supposed, began to give fresh orders, but he only got the first part of a word out, before Vitale put a sixty two caliber ball through his head. Vitale never bothered with his pistol again, letting it drop then and there, and turning savagely on the target to his immediate right, slashing his guard away, and then bringing his saber around to drive it into the Sailor's gullet. He reversed his grip, and pulled the long blade out of the man, before looping it in the air, switching his grip as he did back to a standard hold, lacerating the man from his right shoulder to his left hip. As he finished his kill, the next of the group attacked him, lunging for a stab, which Vitale parried away just in time. As the swords shunted down each other, Vitale rolled around the man, and pressed him away, then ran his cutlass into the man from his back, sticking the sword through completely, his blade buried to the hilt. The third and forth, the final two on the quarterdeck with Vitale, attacked with war cries of outrage, one stabbing, one cleaving with their swords.

Vitale left his cutlass, and used his hidden blade to shunt the stab away from him, and into the body of his pinned comrade, leaving him to pull his blade from his own man, as the second's blade came down on top of Vitale. Vi grabbed his foes' sword at the hilt quickly, and let the momentum come down at his left, turning himself with this new aggresore, so that they stood side by side, fighting for control of the sword. The Frenchman elbowed at Cordoba's mouth, but Vitale tucked his jaw safely away at the man's shoulder, then released his right handhold, and grabbed the man by his forearm, then extended his hidden blade, so that it entered the man's arm and sank in deeply. The Frenchman recoiled, dropping his grasp on his own weapon, and nearly pulling Vitale with him, as he tore his arm from the double sided hidden blade in his muscle. As soon as he'd freed himself of his painful piercing, Vitale lunged at him, knocking his left arm free with a sweeping blow, and then grabbed the French Sailor by his throat, as the other sailor finally freed his own sword and turned on Vitale, shouting to stand aside and surrender. As though this were an option now...

Vitale violently wrenched his prey's head around, and let his hidden blade extend into the man's skull from underneath, and pressed against the man's death throws, as he jerked and spasmed under the introduction of steel to his nervous system. When Vitale let go, he actually flung the sailor's corpse to the ground, and then stood at the ready stance of the traditional assassin's hidden blade form. The sailor with his bloody sword attacked again, stabbing again, and Vitale again attack him as quickly as his dead comrades, sidestepping the attack, even as he punched the man's sword wrist, causing his blade to go flying and forcing the sailor to plant his leg behind himself to keep from flailing. Vitale followed up with a left handed punch to the man's exposed kidney, and again followed this with a crushing blow with his right hand to the sailor's jaw, sending him in a half spin, his back suddenly to Vitale. Vi took only a second, and raising his left hand high in the air, he plunged his blade into the man's back, killing him instantly, and following the body to the ground, where he finished the attack on his knee. As Vitale stood, several men at the bottom of the Quarterdeck's stairs were gathered, and stared with mouths agape. Vitale was just about to launch his next set of attacks, when the entire ship exploded with force and ear splitting thunder.

The Nightingale's fury...

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[Horatio Davis[Inactive]]

A roar rocked the Nightingale as the larboard battery fired. Once again, the concussion and din interrupted all other activities, more so this time as they all fired in one great volley. The first sound to return was the shout of a forward boatswain ordering “brace” just as the Embuscade feebly attempted to return fire. Davis got low beside the wale as three maybe four guns answered out of sequence, only a fifth of the original French firepower. Of them, one went wild over the bowsprit. Two others went high, causing minimal damage to the sails and rigging but missing both man and timber. If there were any others, they must have fallen short into the sea for the commander could neither see nor hear them come overhead and there were no impacts to the hull.

“Chasers, make ready.” Davis shouted as he returned to his place at the forward rail. “Larboard guns, reload with grape.” He turned to the quartermaster and more quietly confirmed that the lad knew the plan, “Intercept course, then right alongside to board.” The way things were going, Davis was confident this fight would be over soon. The Embuscade was already falling apart, unable to even return fire effectively. The sooner they knocked out this obstacle the sooner they could be back on their way.

The mate was soon climbing the stairs back up to the quarterdeck to report, but Davis waved him off. Men were already forming on the deck with cutlasses in hand. A handful of marines had assembled to form a firing line of sorts near the bow and a few other red shirts could be seen heading up the rigging. All but the gun crews seemed ready for close action, and although the largest portion of the crew, there was nothing to be done until they’d fired their last shots. Hopefully by then their added numbers wouldn’t even be necessary.

A moment later the sound of an explosion echoed from the front of the ship quickly followed by a second as the bow chasers started firing. One went high, cracking a yard and causing half the mizzenmast’s lower sails and rigging to fall. The other went straight through the decks, following the earlier raking on its path of destruction along the axis of the ship. Anyone thinking about reloading on the French gundeck as Nightingale closed in might just reconsider that course of action.

As the Nightingale pressed on and the Embuscade continued to lag, the gap between ships tightened rapidly. Horatio took a moment to prepare himself for the action to come rather than focusing on his ship. He gave his sword a short pull to ensure it was loose in the scabbard. Then he set his pistol at halfcock before sliding his hiddenblade down through the gap where he once had a tenth finger. The Nightingale’s master and commander took a deep breath before quickly retracting the blade and returning from a place of inner tranquility to the present action.

Just before their firing angle was lost, the bow chasers loosed two more shots. At such extreme close range, the balls went into the crippled aft of the ship but came out on an upward trajectory through the center of the main deck, one of them even visibly taking out some rigging as it kept on its upward path before finally arcing and falling harmlessly into the sea far away from the battle.

Only seconds after that spectacle had ended, the sloop slid directly alongside the struggling frigate. From only a few dozen feet away she let loose with everything she had once again. The gun deck opened up with ten loads of grapeshot for a total of ninety 206 caliber balls along with the heavy metal plates, rings, and rods of each load tearing through what was left of the enemy gun deck. Topside, the Nightingale’s two swivels fired standard roundshot, the larboard gun taking a diagonal path across the enemy deck to hit as many targets as possible while the starboard gun aimed high and obliterated the French fighting top on their main mast. This was all joined by a marine volley hitting the forecastle, a dozen snipers tagging targets of opportunity down below, and a dozen or so sailors taking potshots of their own.

The result was pure devastation, or at least Davis assumed it was. The Embuscade was literally falling apart before his eyes with wood splinters flying everywhere. Sails and rigging were falling, men and material were being tossed about, and there was now a huge smoke cloud drifting between the two vessels. Through that cloud a half dozen grapnels were tossed as Davis gave the command to board. Only when the commander drew his own blade and stepped toward to the rail did he wonder where Cordoba had gotten to.