Golden Age of Pyracy: Anthem of the Atlantic

Golden Age of Pyracy: Anthem of the Atlantic
A Jivusa and Click This Production


Chapter 1: Prologue

"Shipping traffic between Africa, the Caribbean, and Europe began to soar in the 18th century, a model that was known as triangular trade, and was a rich target for piracy. Trade ships sailed from Europe to the African coast, trading manufactured goods and weapons for slaves. The traders would then sail to the Caribbean to sell the slaves, and return to Europe with goods such as sugar, tobacco and cocoa. Another triangular trade saw ships carry raw materials, preserved cod, and rum to Europe, where a portion of the cargo would be sold for manufactured goods, which (along with the remainder of the original load) were transported to the Caribbean, where they were exchanged for sugar and molasses, which (with some manufactured articles) were borne to New England. Ships in the triangular trade made money at each stop.

As part of the war's settlement, Britain obtained the asiento, a Spanish government contract, to supply slaves to Spain's new world colonies, providing British traders and smugglers more access to the traditionally closed Spanish markets in America. This arrangement also contributed heavily to the spread of piracy across the western Atlantic at this time. Shipping to the colonies boomed simultaneously with the flood of skilled mariners after the war. Merchant shippers used the surplus of sailors' labor to drive wages down, cutting corners to maximize their profits, and creating unsavory conditions aboard their vessels. Merchant sailors suffered from mortality rates as high or higher than the slaves being transported. Living conditions were so poor that many sailors began to prefer a freer existence as a pirate. The increased volume of shipping traffic also could sustain a large body of brigands preying upon it."

This chapter will be a prologue-esque one, for introductions for the characters.(Any characters added later will be introduced in their own little way.)

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Rules:

1. No godmodding.
2. This will be a mature roleplay, so cursing and sexual references will be included. If you must, you can censor it.
3. 1-2+ paragraphs a post, at least decent grammar and punctuation.
4. For the most part, posts must correspond with the chapter.(Chapter 1 is a prologue, so nothing really to follow there).
5. If the Captains want, people can apply for positions on the crew. All unfilled spots will be controlled by said Captain.
6. You don't have to be a pirate. You can be a soldier, trader, etc.
7. If you want to be a pirate, it's a first-come first-serve.

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OOC:

If you want to join, go and post on the OOC.

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The Revenge sailed at a nippy speed through the mild summer Atlantic waters. It was midday and the weather was calm and refreshing, with moderate winds that carried the ship on its way at good speeds. At the stern of the flush deck frigate, a small table and chair was laid out against the stern railing. Captain Hamilton sat lazily in this chair with several charts and a jug of light wine laid out on the little wooden table. A single route was clearly defined on the topmost chart with graphite pencil, but Hamilton wasn't looking at the chart. He was staring out towards the bow of the warship in deep thought. They had been out of port for two weeks as of two days ago, so rations, fresh foods, and luxuries were still readily available. The Revenge and her crew had just weathered a large storm yesterday that had moderately damaged the ship's topsail rigging, but it was being fixed at that very moment. Otherwise, the state the ship was fantastic as it should be for a new frigate, and her crew was reliable and trim as always, and he didn't doubt their loyalty. The navigator, a rather unique one that had been pressed into the crew nearly a year ago, had completely warmed to the position, and Hamilton couldn't have asked for a better navigator. Everything was as he hoped for, and he was ready for duel with a Royal Navy warship anytime.

The penciled lines on the chart did not represent their own course, but rather one of the very large, and very wealthy British convoy that would be setting sail from the colonies in a few weeks' time. It had been leaked to Hamilton and his crew by a very reliable source within the colonies, but it had been quickly propagated throughout the pyrate community and there were likely many other vessels looking to cash in on such a haul. Hamilton didn't mind, however; the convoy would be large enough for several vessels, and if its escort was competent, would scare away all but the most hardened or experience sea captains out there. Hamilton looked forward to hassling the Royal Navy and gaining some pocket change, but there more immediate and pressing issues to address. Ahead of them, a medium sized topsail schooner about a few nautical miles out, was making a frantic scramble into to the wind. A British flag proudly waved on its mast, but it was fleeing the Revenge, which was in hot pursuit of the merchant vessel. They were still out of range of the frigate's long-nines, but most vessels would have lowered their flag long ago against a warship of the Revenge's size and speed. It would obviously put up a fight before going down. The captain liked this; it was nothing else but approach, wait for the flag to be lowered, and seize the vessel's goods for the past month or two. A fight would be refreshing for the crew, which had gotten no action save for gunnery drills on makeshift floating targets. Hamilton showed no sign of excitement, however, as he drank his wine and stared at the little schooner through the midday sun.

It was mid-day when Patrick stepped out of his cabin and onto the deck of the Fenian Rover he had been in there all night examining a chart from which his sources said was the route for a large British convoy that was to leave port from the southern colonies and back to England it would certainly effect the king if he found out the whole shipment was looted. Patrick even considered throwing the whole of the goods over board just to defy the British. But sending a few of the ships back with their holds empty and crews slaughtered would be enough to deter the king toward letting go of Ireland. He sighed as he looked around at the crew on deck all of them rebels and enemies to the crown all of them working for a common cause of liberty. The bulk of the crew where gathered in a large crowd surrounding two cutlasses which where cross in a X shape and cheered on each other as they as they danced ontop of the swords preforming a old celtic tradition to tell who will die in the up coming battle. Approaching his frist mate Shaun O'Neary who was playing the bagpipes in tune with the dancers pulling Shaun's pistol from it's holster he fired it into the air to gain attention. The Gunshot rang out like a church bell as the bagpiper's and harpers stopped their tune and the dancer's pace went to a halt Walking back on to of the poop deck he yelled to his crew in a strong irish brogue "Gan focal níos mó a labhraítear! Now men today we go to battle you all know as well as I that we may not all live but whoever of you that loose your lives gain something more you gain the honor and pride of your country men! Your sacrifice shall Not go in vain for every bit of our blood that is spilled today will bring our homeland a step closer to freedom! Now men I wan those cannons Loaded in a tick with chain shot and double ball your muskets men I suspect we will have to board em for them to yeld."Patrick Shouted.
a rising cheer spread through the crowd as they started at their duties a young powder monkey ran up to Patrick with a long spy glass in his hands. "Thank you lad, now get swabbing those bores." Patrick said as he took the spy glass out of the boy's hand and looked through it there he spied the Merchant Brig that he had been stalking fro the past week or so. But what he was more fixated on was the Union Jack flying high on the ship's mast the mere sight of the thing angered him He ordered his men to bring the ship to full sail. As the wind pushed agains the canvas it propelled his ship forward with tremendous speed it was only a hour or so before they where in musket shot of the ship range of the ship. Yell the order to to his men to cut down the Decoy british flag and host up the flag of his own to his men. within minutes a large green flag was rippling in the wind on the field of green there was but one thing a skeleton playing a golden harp. Just as the flag went up the brig attempted to sail away from Patrick but it was too late he ordered a full broadside shot crippling it's sails and killing several men on deck. The opposing vessel returned the fire the cannon balls had causing Patrick's sails to be useless and destroying several cannons could easily be fixed several of Patrick men came to the starboard rail armed with line guns each fired sending a large rope connected to a grappling hook that caught on the ship's railed the merchant sailors started to scramble and prepare to be boarded as Patrick's men climb across the ropes. Soon enough Patrick on on deck of the merchant brig and in a blazing battle firing his pistols one by one he managed to fell two men before having to resort to his cutlass the sound of clashing metal rang through the salty air as Patrick hacked at a large Sailor who was deserpatley attempting to block Patrick's onslaught eventually the man was wore out and yielded along with the rest of the crew he asked fro the captain to meet with him on deck infront of his crew. Two large Scottish men dragged a well dressed merchant noble out of the cabin of the ship
"Captain I presume ?" Patrick said as the Scotsman kneeled down the man infront of him
"Feck off you dirty Fenian rat!" The Captain said spitting a mouth full of blood onto Patrick's boots.
"Now Judgin by this flag you have I am guessing you Pledge loyalty to Queen Anne do you not?" Patrick said pointing his flint lock on the head of the kneeling captain slowly bringing it to half cock waiting for the man's answer
"I Pledge my Loyalty to here yes and may she ever rule over you dirty Taigs" The Kneeling captain scowled still ignorant and full of pride
"Shame Damn Shame boyo, any last words?" Patrick said bringing the gun to full cock
"Aye God save the que-" The man's sentence where interrupted as by the ringing gunshot of Patrick's gun and the pain as the lead ball ripped through the captain's scalp.
"Alright then men show's over get to gathering any valuable you find and gather all the food and water needed for them to get back to the nearest English port dump and burn the rest!" Patrick said as he began to wip off the captain's blood off his clothes.

Pipes lived up to the nickname he had been given. Another of the skills forced upon him by his rich parents that had paid off in an odd way, the long silver fluorescent glistened in his hands as he played. The tune he played was made up as he went, but was fast and urgent, driving the crews hearts to quicken, blood to flowen, and expectations to rise. He loved this part of the job, and made a great show of it. His agile form could be found on deck dancing along the rails to his own tune, then below deck along the rows of cannons as they were loaded. He would play until the moment of boarding, at which point he would bring the song to a chilling climax, draw his sword, and join the fray with the others. Aahh what a glorious job, and a beautiful day for it.

Viktor awoke to the rude awakening of cannon fire, the blast barely missing the outside of the captain's quarters. He put his clothes and other stuff on while rushing outside to see what had happened. "Cap'n, we 'ave some enemies over yonder. D'you want te return fire?", one of the pirates said. He gave a slight nod and said, "Give them hell". He shouted, "Return fire! Leave no man standing!", towards the crew and almost got hit with a cannonball. "And watch out for the enemy's rounds. They'll go right through you".

He walked up the flight of stairs to the rudder and yelled, "Full sail!" The Astaroth rushed at full speed, tearing through the water, at a very overwhelming for a ship of the Astaroth's size. The opposition followed suit, and the two vessels were sailing alongside each other, cannonballs whizzing through the air. The enemy ship was being torn to pieces, the main sail cracked and leaning on its side. He then left the rudder and walked over to the very large swivel gun, firing a round at the barrels under decks, knowing these were gunpowder and black powder. With that shot, the enemy ship burst into flames, enemies covered in the blaze and jumping into the ocean, grabbing onto pieces of wood broken off of their vessel. The Astaroth sailed away as the sloop of war sank, and Viktor gave a hardy laugh as he walked back to the rudder and took control of the Astaroth.

He ordered half-sail and turned around 180 degrees, sailing back to the wreckage. He stopped the Astaroth and had a few deckhands grab whatever was of worth and wasn't in pieces. A few minutes later, they came back with handfuls of precious cargo. He ordered they put it in the cargo hold. He made another turn and sailed West, pulling out a flask and taking a swig.

Riken was chewing on an apple core when a cannon ball whizzed by his head, and sailed into the water. “Well shit, this is going to put damper on my day?” Pirates were scrambling around on the ship’s deck, completely out of order while their captain was sleeping away. “Crazy bastard, sleeping at a time like this.” Riken tossed his apple core overboard and started running from the bow of the ship to the stern. During his sprint to the stern Riken tripped over a stray rope, and smashed face first into the deck. “Damn it all!” He grumbled as he pushed himself off the deck.

“We’re under attack!” One of the pirates yelled!

“Well aren’t you just a goddamn genius!” Riken started making his way to captain’s quarters again, this time taking care not to slip on anything. “Captain, wake up! Breakfast is ready, and you are-” Suddenly Riken was knocked back, a cannon ball smashed into the deck in front of him. Shit, damn it! I was almost there! Riken pushed himself off the ground once again, only to see the captain making his way to the rudder.

“Full sail!” Captain yelled. And suddenly The Astaroth was speeding through the ocean, the enemy ship increased speed as well. The two ships sailed side by side, each one firing shots at each other. However the enemy vessel was clearly outmatched, and was being destroyed quickly. Even so that was not enough for the Captain Ulchried, who took to the swivel guns and delivered the shot that sent the enemy up in flames; effectively ending the batter.

“Now look here, Cap’n.” Riken started making his way to the rudder as the looting team made it’s way back onto the ship. “I walked through cannon fire to wake your ass up, and then come and save the day. That’s last time I try.”

Viktor glanced at Riken. He stared at him for a minute, as he took another swig of rum. "Aye, boy. But I'll tell you, it was a hell of a battle. An exciting one, it was!", he said, stumbling. "I might be a little drunk, too. Give me a few minutes to sober up. I'll be around deck". He ordered the men to halt the Astaroth as he walked around and inspected the men. He got bored quick, so he climbed up to the crow's nest and sat on the edge, using his telescope to look around, seeing nothing surprising. He looked around the top deck, crew and deckhands going about everyday things. He stretched out and lied down on his back, facing the clouds. It wasn't too long before he fell asleep again.

He woke up again a few minutes later, climbing down the rope ladder and landing on deck. He waited, and then stretched, trying to fully wake himself. Once he felt awake enough, he looked around once more, everything usual. He rest his hand on the handle of his cutlass and walked around, laughing and listening to the rhythmic sounds of his boots on the wooden deck. He whistled loudly a tune, altering it to match the sounds of his leather boots.

Viktor walked to the starboard and set his foot on the end of a cannon, kneeling on it and inspecting the siding of the Astaroth as well as the surrounding waters. He stepped off and faced Riken, who was in a different place. He walked up to him and struck up a conversation. "So, Riken, have you ever journeyed to the Caribbean Bermudas? The cities of Nassau, Kingston, Havana? They're every bit beautiful as you'd think, boy. The air smells of seawater, flora, and spices. The views from land onto sea, or even in towns, is awesome. The women aren't all that bad either, am I right boys?!", he said, turning to the crew and receiving many "Ayes" and a few pointless yells. He laughed, and set back on the railing, crossing his feet and getting relaxed.

After a minute, he said ",Now, Riken, I haven't heard much about you and how you exactly came aboard the Astaroth, what drove you to being a mercenary. Look around. These men all have personal tales of lust, greed, anger, fear, all reasons to become a pirate. You and mercenary business, I'm not so sure". He cocked a few inches towards him and pulled out a different flask than last time, filled with fresh import water. He refreshed himself by taking a drink and then splashing some on his face. He then gave attention to Riken, waiting for him to respond.

It was only when the frigate closed to just outside of the long nines' range that Hamilton finally swung into action. After a long delay between the sighting of the vessel and closing in on it, the captain had not issued an order for general quarters. Downing the last drop of wine from the pewter jug, he stood up and called out to the quartermaster. "Beat to quarters."
The quartermaster, expectantly awaiting this order, immediately repeated the order as the crew scrambled to their positions. Loud thumping of footsteps echoed throughout the ship as the vessel's gun crews scurried to run out their guns, and seamen retreated below to fetch their weapons. Captain Hamilton, straightening his jacket, approached the bow of the vessel, where the two long-nines sat.

"Capn'?"

The officer of the gun crew stationed to one of the bow-chasers looked up. Hamilton looked at him with a stern face. "You can have the pleasure of firing the first shot, Mr. Bodkin. Fire."
The sailor immediately primed the gun, and with a flash, the iron cast gun rolled back from the recoil of the shot and was stopped by breech rope. The nine pound warning shot across the bow of the merchant schooner and splashed over into the water. Hamilton and the ship's crew waited expectantly for movement from the other vessel, but none came in reply to the shot. The captain of the vessel seemed to have a misconceived notion that he would be able to get away.
"Mr. Bodkin. Another shot, if you please. Make it accurate." Another shot rang out, this time hitting it precisely on the helm of the ship, destroying the ship's wheel and whoever was at the wheel. Hamilton looked up at the masts again and finally saw the British colors of the ship come down. Hamilton nodded in satisfaction at the gunnery crew's aim.
The main action was now over, but Hamilton knew boardings had their share of surprises, and he judged, from the actions of that captain, the real fighting had not begun yet. He turned to move back to his cabin, but paused to speak to the crew in his vicinity before doing so. "Ready a boat for boarding. Tell me when it is ready. I'll be in my cabin. If a single shot comes out from the ship in the meantime, give 'em hell."

IC: Bryon, or as he preferred to be called, Sierra was awoken to the sound of a cannonball being fired. He was slightly hungover from the previous night, not that he remembered it much. Hamilton hated it when Sierra drank to much at Sea, saying anything could happen at a moment's notice. "If you're going to drink at least get drunk," he thought to himself. He got off of his bed, one that he had won in a gamble with another pirate, and staggered to get his clothes on. We're going to be boarding if all goes well. Finally, I get first say over what's mine. He strapped on his dual swords on his back and also strapped his pistol on his hip.

He exited his cabin and walked through the stern of the ship to avoid seeing or talking to anybody. Some of the cabin disliked him. They thought he didn't carry on his fair share of the duties around the ship and to be fair, he didn't. Captain Hamilton, or Hammy as Bryon liked to call him, was perhaps the only reason he was allowed on the ship. That, and his excellent skills with his fists and his swords. Some of the crew liked him, as a matter of fact, appreciating his company and his lack of concern. He was a drinker and a smooth talker and he was always ready to make a bet, as long as he thought he even had the slightest chance of winning. He heard another cannon shot and thankfully he wasn't close enough to the point where his ears would ring.

He was pretty useless when it came to shooting and always begged Hamilton to teach him but the captain never had time. He could hit a moving target, some of the time, but even then he couldn't beat the average pirate at a duel with guns. Despite that his reputation spread as far of the seven seas. Sierra of the Revenge, the master swordsman that could swing entire battles in the Revenge's favor. Of course that might be slightly exaggerated. He had finally reached the cabin he had walked around for and silently entered and sat on the chair directly opposite of the door. He leaned his had back and waited and sooner, rather than later, the door quickly swung open.

He leaned forward with a slight grin on his face, "Gooooooooood morning, Hammy!"

"What the fu-"
Captain Hamilton opened the door to his cabin and was met with the face of Sierra blocking his entire sight of vision. For a moment he thought he was getting jumped and nearly clocked him in the face, but decided to give him a whack on the head for the surprise and the horrible nickname. "Don't do that ever again. Now get out of my room, you daft blockhead! Didn't I call general quarters?" The captain paused for moment, before changing his mind as he looked at a pistol on his desk. The man had a decent swordhand and combat skills, so he wouldn't be half bad to be on the boat. The only big issue the captain had was his insufferable use of 'Hammy' in Hamilton's presence. "On second thought, you're coming with me. Get out and get your sword and pistol and meet me on deck." Walking over to his desk, he grabbed his two pistols and holstered them in his belt, before grabbing his black tricorn hat off the coat stand in the corner of his room. Adjusting his hat as he left his cabin, he almost ran into another person in the small space between his cabin's door and the other set of doors that lead out onto the main deck. The person in question was Paige Parker, the young but knowledgeable navigator of the ship. The navigator was his personable confident of questionable gender(to the crew, of course). Parker seemed to have waken up quite late, probably by the sound of cannonfire, for the navigator buttoning up a coat and donning a hat.
"Ah Parker. Good morning-- And good timing. You have the ship for today. We've caught up to that merchantman that was sighted at dusk yesterday, so we're boarding." The navigator nodded, slightly sleepily, and captain Hamilton, hopefully with Bryon in tow, made his way to the launch where the boat had been lowered.

Fifteen minutes later, Hamilton, with a company of twenty other able bodied men, pulled up alongside the Lady Anne, the merchant schooner that had surrendered an hour earlier. As Ham climbed the wooden ledges up to the ship's main deck, he noted that the ship was eerily quiet, suspiciously so. It sounded like an ambush to him. Almost reaching the deck, he grabbed the hat of the sailor below him and waved it right above him, through the railings of the vessel. Before he could say 'safe', a shot rang out, followed by several shouts from the main deck as sailors rushed towards his position. Releasing the situation, he pulled himself up into a position relatively safe from gunfire and rallied his men. "To arms, sailors! They think to ambush us! I think not!"