Roger Hawthorne watched the approaching pirate ship with trepidation. It was not so much that he feared death, but that he feared for the deaths of others. There were innocents aplenty aboard the Merchantman Andalusia. To be sure, her captain was a right bastard and the first officer was cruel and sadistic, but the men were good English lads, with wives and children waiting for them back ashore.
The ship cutting through the water towards them, tacking to make up time, was a twenty gun sloop, large for its class, and as deadly looking as a razor blade. Her flag was a fractured skull on a red field, showing her to be a pirate craft. Whether her crew were privateers or simply pirates made little difference. They would kill the men, who showed the slightest resistance to turning pirate, or simply slaughter the entire crew. One could never tell with pirates. They were an unpredictable lot.
He feared for the women folk below the decks as well, locked away in their cabins for their own safety. The Baroness and her ladies were traveling to Port Royal, to join her husband, the governor. The pirates would surely use and abuse them in ways which flickered across his imagination unbidden. They would most likely hold the Baroness herself for ransom.
Roger checked his sword in its scabbard, making sure that his saber was loose. It was a cavalryman's weapon, which was what he in fact was, but it would serve well enough. He had book passage on the Andalusia to escape the memories of his late wife, who had suffered many long months with fevers before passing. He was a tall, muscular man with long brown hair pulled back into a rough ponytail. His hawkish nose rose between to steel gray eyes. His firm chin was bare of whiskers, though he could use a shave. His suit was brown with brass buttons and he wore a green coat.
As the pirate gained on them, the captain ordered the ship to turn to port, and bring her broadside to bare. They could never escape, so the only thing to do was to fight. The merchantman turned slowly, barely bringing it's side to bare before the sloop arrived. Twelve cannons barked out, loaded with grape shot, as the sailors fired muskets at the lower deck of the other ship.
Roger drew his rapier, determined to make a fight of it. He said a quick prayer, hoping that God would be with him, and then readied himself, stretching his arms and legs out and running through some basic fencing moves. Soon enough the bloody blaggards would be upon them and the fighting would be for real.
The pirate sloop quickly threw out ropes, lashing the two ships together, and it turned to meet them side to side. They did not fire their guns, probably out of a concern over damaging their prize. Roger saw pirates swinging over onto the deck, and ran toward the first one he saw. She was a raggedly dressed woman in her late forties with wild, unkempt hair and an equally wild look in her eye. He couldn't bring himself to run her through, so after ducking her clumsy cutlass blow, he clocked her across the face with the pommel of his sword, causing her to fall amidst the fighting. The pirates were evenly matched with the larger crew of the merchantman, making up for their lack of numbers with their ferocious demeanors and theatrical appearances.
The ship cutting through the water towards them, tacking to make up time, was a twenty gun sloop, large for its class, and as deadly looking as a razor blade. Her flag was a fractured skull on a red field, showing her to be a pirate craft. Whether her crew were privateers or simply pirates made little difference. They would kill the men, who showed the slightest resistance to turning pirate, or simply slaughter the entire crew. One could never tell with pirates. They were an unpredictable lot.
He feared for the women folk below the decks as well, locked away in their cabins for their own safety. The Baroness and her ladies were traveling to Port Royal, to join her husband, the governor. The pirates would surely use and abuse them in ways which flickered across his imagination unbidden. They would most likely hold the Baroness herself for ransom.
Roger checked his sword in its scabbard, making sure that his saber was loose. It was a cavalryman's weapon, which was what he in fact was, but it would serve well enough. He had book passage on the Andalusia to escape the memories of his late wife, who had suffered many long months with fevers before passing. He was a tall, muscular man with long brown hair pulled back into a rough ponytail. His hawkish nose rose between to steel gray eyes. His firm chin was bare of whiskers, though he could use a shave. His suit was brown with brass buttons and he wore a green coat.
As the pirate gained on them, the captain ordered the ship to turn to port, and bring her broadside to bare. They could never escape, so the only thing to do was to fight. The merchantman turned slowly, barely bringing it's side to bare before the sloop arrived. Twelve cannons barked out, loaded with grape shot, as the sailors fired muskets at the lower deck of the other ship.
Roger drew his rapier, determined to make a fight of it. He said a quick prayer, hoping that God would be with him, and then readied himself, stretching his arms and legs out and running through some basic fencing moves. Soon enough the bloody blaggards would be upon them and the fighting would be for real.
The pirate sloop quickly threw out ropes, lashing the two ships together, and it turned to meet them side to side. They did not fire their guns, probably out of a concern over damaging their prize. Roger saw pirates swinging over onto the deck, and ran toward the first one he saw. She was a raggedly dressed woman in her late forties with wild, unkempt hair and an equally wild look in her eye. He couldn't bring himself to run her through, so after ducking her clumsy cutlass blow, he clocked her across the face with the pommel of his sword, causing her to fall amidst the fighting. The pirates were evenly matched with the larger crew of the merchantman, making up for their lack of numbers with their ferocious demeanors and theatrical appearances.
