Welcome

Date: 2-nd of August 1719
Place: In the open sea, near Hispaniola

Joseph strode out onto deck, and looked to the skies, it was a clear evening, and as the sun began setting, an orange glow flooded the seas, reflecting onto the ships sails, covering the open decks with a reddish hue. With the sunset came a coolness which all the crew had longed for; the August brought forth a dryness not a soul could bare, all who were new to the Caribbean seriously debated going home. But he was a Caribbean boy, Bulstrone, he had braved hotter summers than this, and he would not allow himself to allow his duties to slip, not tonight. They were on the hunt.

The game? A fair sized Spanish ship they had sighted yesterday afternoon, around 3 o'clock. Only a glimpse, but that glimpse, through a telescope, showed the obvious Spanish flag. Joseph was not on watch then, but the news spread quickly and almost all the crew were out on deck within seconds. The captain knew the trajectory of the Spanish vessel, he said they'd be heading to Puerto Rico. Only a good knowledge of the area could yield that knowledge Joseph had thought. He felt a little sorry for the new sailing master, he would have to be good to contend with Sharky's prowess.

Tonight they were set to collide with the ship, just after it was set to get dark. They would use the same tactics as their incident with the ''Siren'' a few months before, and so Joseph enjoyed the light while it was still there. He sat and waited for a while... He stood, and wandered for a while. He knew that soon, they would be fighting. The guns would make his ears ring, and the clatter of swords would be all around. But for now, the silence was deafening. It was the calm before the storm, and not a word was spoken. The crew did their duties, and Joseph watched the horizon.

Then he saw a light. Above the starboard bow. He squinted. Turned his head to the side. Then he realised the implications. He called out, in a hushed sort of shout ''Starboard Bow, ship!'' He couldn't make out any details of the ship, but in his gut, he knew it would be the Dons. He would soon be face to face with one of those damned Dons, maybe it would be the same ship that killed his father before him, but he doubted it. The navies did not seem to send a European vessel out so far as these parts. He would still make each Spaniard pay for what their friends had done to his family.

KEVIN PRICE and NEIL DONOVAN

Seven days since they left Kingston – and with this acalmy, they won’t get much farther… Yes, they had sighted the Spanish galleon for a while – and, in their captain’s opinion, it was heading to Mona Passage. It made sense, and they started getting ready for the attack. When the spyglass revealed that it was a galleon, Kevin sighed. Their small brig was not a match for such a giant… in daytime. Attacking at night though, with their dark sails and without any position lights, might be an advantage. A galleon had high hull and strong walls, but even their armour wasn’t invulnerable to good cannon fire… and ammunition was nothing the captain and the acting quartermaster had been making economy on. They had good ammunition, in sufficient quantity, and thanks to Jack Kildare, who, due to the new doctor’s care, had recovered partially and he was able to train his men, even the new ones knew now what to do in a fight.

Since the ship had been sighted, Neil, Julien and a few others were busy to make sure that the timber armour was in its place, strong enough to hold some of the enemy’s fire without collapsing. They also knew that, once the orders were to be given, they would be manning the guns – and a good prize was what they were looking forward to. Neil knew that if they got the prize, then Port-de-Paix was closer to judge it and get their shares; he looked forward to some nice days there…

This post has been written by ELENA

Don FELIPE MANUEL PÉREZ DE GUZMÁN, commander

Don Felipe Manuel Pérez de Guzmán, the second son of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, was looking to the horizon, trying to appreciate if a storm was coming. It had been a day almost without wind, not unlike yesterday. This had caused enough delay to the ship – besides the fact that a damn galleon was much slower than a ship-of-the-line. He hated this galleon, “Madre de Dios”, as much as he loved “San Jose”, which had been damaged severely by a hurricane less than one month ago and it was spending some time in the dockyards of Havana. Therefore, Admiral Moncada had reassigned the crew wherever they were needed, a bunch of them being sent to “Madre de Dios”, including Don Felipe, now capitan de guerra – or, how their enemies would call him, closer to their understanding than to the true hierarchical order aboard a Spanish Navy ship, commander. It was a good step towards a more stable promotion, and don Felipe was proud of this – only that he would have preferred anything but this galleon! A frigate, a corvette, a sloop of war, anything!

Being the war captain, he cared less for the ship’s speed – if not taking into account that the garrison in San Juan was waiting for them to deliver everything they had requested from the Capitan General and from the Admiral – and more for it’s capacity to fight an eventual enemy. He had no doubt that privateers, French Navy (now their British allies too) and the pirates were all on the prowl for a nice, plump and not too big galleon, just a 350 tons one like “Madre de Dios”, good to be tackled…

The ship had a complement of 65 sailors and 90 good soldiers who, unlike the sailors, were under his command. He had drilled them, latest, yesterday, in manning the 36 guns. Well, he has supervised the drilling, actually, because Chispa, the master gunner, was the one to conduct it.

The best thing about commanding a galleon was that the guns were located quite high above the water, which gave them advantage in fight, sweeping the decks of low vessels with canister fire and denying them the protection of their topdeck walls and railings. The formidable firepower of a galleon’s broadsides easily outmatched almost any other ship on the sea, and its height made it difficult for smaller vessels to board it or to sweep the galleon's decks with grape or canister fire. These were all reasons for a good officer to love the ship he was commanding, weren’t they? Yes, but… the storms, so common in the Caribbean? Even his beautiful “San Jose” had not been immune to them…

Now, that the evening was falling, he intended to ask Rey, the pilot, what chances were that the weather worsened. Facing the swaying and tossing of a storm aboard a galleon instead of a man-of-war was not the most pleasant experience. The big swells were difficult on any ship, but if on a ship of the line they were in danger to sweep the deck, here the pitching increased due to the height of the ship, and having several men really sea-sick, unable to do their duty, was not fun at all. (Not confessing that the mighty war captain, still an Army officer, not a sailor, was sea-sick on higher tides too.) Besides, increased rolling meant also that some of the cargo shifted, making the ship listing to one of the boards…

This post has been written by ELENA

There was no shout or drumming to general quarters, the Captains tactic was stealth at night, using there black sails and lack of lights to there full advantage, but behind Jay he felt the floor bounce as feet emerged onto the top deck, and the lower decks were prepared for battle, as the word from the Ox was passed swiftly to the Captain then to the ranking men of each section, after it was confirmed.

The last day had tested Jay’s skills to the limit, they had spotted there prey, but the Captain had wanted there ship to have the important tactical move of ‘having the weather’. With this the Captain could direct the attack, leaving the other ship with only the option of running or standing ground, rather than being able to tack around and follow for there own attack.

Checking the instruments again, and with a glance at the chart laid out on the board at his side, held down by weights at each corner, he swung around to inform the Captain of the line, only to find him standing there and checking the chart himself.

Jay didn’t mind, his work had been checked often that journey, he had seen others re checking depths on the Captains instructions, and finding that Jay had not made a mistake he had simply nodded his approval and moved on to other tasks. He was new, and a sailing master had to be trusted in what he said, the safety of the ship was based on his chartings.

‘We hold the weather Captain. The Galleon is on the leeward gage. We have both options for attack that you wanted. If they sight us they cannot with there wind take up the lead and follow to attack us, leaving them the choice to stand or run. If they run, they will be exposing there 'bottom' to shot. On a ship that size if your cannons penetrate the hull that will be exposed in heeling away, it is an area that will on there next tack immediately be under the water level and she will take on water quickly, she will be ‘ hulled between wind and water Sir’.

Jay showed the arrow markings he had made, that showed both manoeuvres first the one he had just described(not actual image,just to show general idea and then the mapping out of the tacking and degree turns for the second plan.

‘If we turn 2 degrees s.w and take our tack at that point , we can come along this tack, and that will bring you broadside on, and if we are still not detected then you can use the gunners skill to take down there means of navigating away, and board them. If you miss at that point, with the gage on our side, you can swing at the point here, come back on her leeward side and you have the repeat attack but with there knowledge that time, but if they put there effort to fighting at that point, you can turn at there port and take out there rudder.’

Each option was pointed out on the diagram with degrees of direction, arrows showing the wind, the enemy ship marked for the options it could take given there wind, it didn’t matter that the Captain and Jay did not speak the same language a tacking diagram and tactical chart showed all the Captain would need to know.

' If there holds are as full as we have been led to believe, a ship of that size will be slow to turn, but boarding will be harder on such a height, and our cannons will be hitting lower at this side.....

Jay had fulfilled his task, the options were there, the information the Captain needed laid out for him to review and decide on.

Bandaged up still from the last time the Shark had gone to battle, Jack limped steadily in the gun deck using the cannons for support. He would not show his men weakness. In his mind, the events of the last battle rolled in his thoughts as well as his orders. "Hold fast and at the signal give these bastards hell" Jack shouted at his men amidst cheers and a volley of chatter among the men, "I'll have no bilgerats man my guns, you hear me men".

It seemed as though some of shipmates were surprised that he was still able to stand. Jack had not really worried at the prior battle when the cannon had malfunctioned til he heard the crunch and crack of his leg bones. After that he remembered the searing pain rising in his leg like a steaming pot after it came to a good boil beyond that he remembered nothinng.

Pistol in hand Jack shushed some of the newer men in his crews. He had made the effort when he came back to the ship to train his men better and make it clear how to load the cannons. He drilled the men extra hard causing some grumblings among them but it was no matter to him. It was better for the men, he thought to see good old Jack as him self, desoite his stingy attitude towards one of his gun crews for obvious reasons but no matter.

As usual he smelled of the familiar scent of gunpowder and sweat, he would have an expirienced man on every gun at all times til he heard the word. Jack despite his limp, was entirely in his element. Waiting on his men he shouted at them, "Are we at the ready". This was to be the last gun drill of the day, he wanted perfection and he would have it.

KEVIN PRICE and NEIL DONOVAN

Even if it was a fight, therefore the captain had supreme power, Kevin, as an old seadog, was also interested in it, and kept close to Sharky. He liked the new sailing master’s professional approach. Well, not that he could understand much of a map, honestly speaking, but those diagrams looked interesting, and he hadn’t seen anybody before using them. (Well, not that a boatswain’s mate would have any reason to mingle with the sailing master aboard Fate’s Hand).

Jay’s words seemed familiar – even if he hadn’t known already, the man’s experience in the Navy was shown. He smiled and praised him:

”This is a good idea, because in the cover of the night we’ll succeed to get closer to the galleon’s hull to let our broadsides reach them without getting ourselves too much of a target. Giving that they are well-armoured, I doubt they would sink immediately if we broadside them. We’ll have time to loot… And if Neil and Julien are good, we might even patch it up to last until Port de Paix and sell it.”

They had the advantage of high manoeuvrability, speed and flexibility which the heavier galleon hadn’t, but if they got sighted too soon, that huge floating castle would gun them down in one minute.

Neil was one of the gunners. He listened to Jack’s attempts to discipline the newer recruits, while handling the rope sponge quietly. He wanted that prize... Who didn;t?

This post has been written by ELENA

BENE, sailor

Bene was laid back in the crows' nest watching the horizon, his foot placed to the top of the basket, and his weight on the back boom of the mast. Sleepily he was singing his favourite tune. ‘ De colores, de colores, de colores se visten los campos en la primavera…’ (english translation-All the colors, all the colors, oh how they dress up the countryside in springtime) Dressed in his usual sailors attire, except his was dirty and sweated up, with salt stains where he dipped his head in the salt bucket and didn't care that the salt dripped over his uniform.

This wasn’t supposed to be his watch, infact this wasn’t his usual position, but the man on the watch had a stomach that could not cope with the rolling sea, and the weather would get worse so the sailing master said, and as Bena was on nothing more than bilge pump duty, he jumped at the chance to be above deck, and well above watchful eyes of the Captain and Boatswain who he thought always had it in for him. Which in truth they did, for Bene was the worst of the lower Ranks, lazy, idle, rather too dull in the brain to understand more than simple directions.

Humming for a moment when he forgot the simple words, before singing again, he paid little heed to the east, south or west, just idly staring forward and singing the song that he considered himself to be making a fine rendition of! Even if he did say so himself.

If the Boatswain had known such a change of duties had occurred he would flog the pair of them, especially Bena who was nothing but a waster in the officers eyes, but the change had been made without being noticed, and now he was free for a good few hours to just enjoy the air and lack of supervision.

This post has been written by Ren

DUARTE RIAL, Pilot

Duarte got don Felipe’s question and understood the reason.

”I hope not, Sir. Navigating these treacherous waters at night is not easy task at all.”

There were reefs and hidden rocks, and passing through the Mona Passage itself needed attention even at day time. Duarte had told the sea captain that they would rather anchor in a bay and wait until morning to continue, but Don Alfonso told him arrogantly that if he doubted his own sailing abilities, the captain would inform Admiral Moncada that he had done bad to assign him such an incompetent pilot. So, he had to swallow the injury and keep sailing.

He knew only partially the crew, since they had been deployed on “Madre de Dios” to complement the existing one just a few weeks ago, following the destruction of “San Jose”. He didn’t care who was on duty, as long as they watched for ships and position lights, or, the one at bow, to sound the depth not to run into a shoal.

Slow and steady was their progress. A watch ended, another had started, but the pilot didn’t leave his position. He had seen at a certain moment three masts at the horizon, then they disappeared… Duarte didn’t worry anymore about the other ship, he had other concerns with this area. He had to prove himself in front of the sea captain of “Madre de Dios”, cursed be his name…

He forgot when he had slept lately. It was definitely long time ago. If the people off duty returned to their hammocks, he couldn’t afford this luck. He felt tiredness enveloping him in its poisonous embrace…

This post has been written by ELENA

KEVIN PRICE and NEIL DONOVAN

The night made sailing these waters more hazardous, but the privateers rejoiced at the cover provided by the Almighty himself. They had hidden behind a little islet, waiting for the Spanish galleon. All lights were extinguished, not leaving even a position one, and they were waiting to see the Spaniards’ lantern.

Kevin smiled, looking at Sharky. Tonight would bring their plan to fruition. Yes, the unlikely privateer captain proved to be a keen strategist and one who had a revenge against Spaniards more than against pirates. Tonight their plan would be christened in blood. No more parley, no more quarter.

Upon an almost whispered order, dark sails were unfurled to catch all the wind. Moving without a sound in the water, the small privateer ship, with men instructed to keep the silence, cut the distance towards the galleon. It seemed God was on their side tonight, to supply them with a moonless cover.

Neil and the other gunners were at their places. It was not the first time they had to aim in the dark, and if last time they managed, the galleon was bigger, providing more room for the chainshot and grapeshot to land on. Guns were loaded and run out, men appointed to each, cartridges served out, matches waiting for the order to fire. It smelled battle. Neil prayed to smell victory too. They needed it badly.

This post has been written by ELENA

Francois woke with a start, alone and disoriented in the dark. His pulse responded first, pumping panic through his veins at a furious rate. He pressed his hand to his heart, and his fingers curled around his stomach. His right arm throbbed with pain and his face turned into a horrid expression. His awareness returned in a dizzy rush.

A faint silvery glow leaked in under the cloth he had hung up the day before to get some privacy in his nightmares. It was morning. And if it was morning, that must mean he'd survived the night and that he had a greater chance to survive the day. He turned onto his side. Every muscle screamed with pain. His shirt and trouser were still heavy with damp, resisting her feeble attempts to rise. Perhaps he didn’t need to move, after all. But then he heard the men whispering.A spanish ship had been seen on the horizon.

Oh, he sighed as he realized that he indeed had to get out of his comfy hammock. He drew a deep breath, then wished he could spit it out. The air was thick with humidity and rank with the odors of sickness and bilge. He slid from his hammock, ignoring the protestations of his aching limbs, and flung open the cloth and reveling him self to the rest of the crew.

He lunged for the staircase, scrambling up on his hands and knees. A salty breeze nipped at his ears as he emerged headfirst into the gray dawn. He inhaled a deep, bracing breath of fresh air. The thought of returning below held no appeal whatsoever, he had been at sea for a long time, but when men gather for several months bellow deck in a cramped space, you are sure to get an horrible smell. He closed his eyes and wondered what to do, how could he remain like this, head and neck protruding from a hole in the deck, like some species of seafaring marmot.

He climbed abovedecks and struggled into an upright position, planting his feet in a wide stance to buffer the ship’s rolling. Francois closed his eyes again. Either the ship was caught in a whirl pool, or his head was spinning like a top. He looked toward the nearest rail—only five paces away, perhaps six. Beyond it, the coastline appeared to teeter on a fulcrum. He bowed his head, focused his gaze on the deck beneath him, and took one step. Two.Then the deck pitched suddenly, and his locked knees buckled. with a deep breath he steadied him self, and with another bid breath he tried to pull away from his sickness.

He saw Jack and shook his head, "How can you not bee sick after that wound you got? My head hasn't stopped reeling since I got this bloody thing! Maybe i shouldn't have got drunk last night" He grinned at his mate and winked. With long steppes he sprung to the rail have heaved over the edge.

Jay turned from where he was taking a compass bearing, and checking there night position on the star maps, before writing down the measurements of depth taken from where they were hiding behind the small inlet behind the island.

The order had just been made quietly to unfurl the dark sails, and the ship had lurched forward as the sails bellowed and caught hold, seeing Francois arrive in an unstable condition made Jay smile, but now was not the time for teases or laughter at his torment.

The black darkness of the night was still on there side, no light lit up there ship that could be detected by the galleon, now they just needed to keep the wind, and ensure a speedy advance to cut the distance to the now sighted Spanish ship.

‘Keep it down boys’
Jay whispered to them, before beginning the measurements again, not wanting there ship that was moving with more speed now to ground it self or flounder on some unknown shelf.

The air of anticipation was growing now the cannons were set, making all the men on the deck that night buzz with excitement.

‘ If you can bear it can you take the rope after I've thrown it overboard, and count the knots for me passing through your fingers, so I can measure the speed. But tell me quietly the amount. You know your numbers?'
A glance given to see if Francois could do the job, if he couldn't he would add.

If you can't then I’d go and get something down you my lad quickly from the Doctor; you won’t be of any use up here if you can’t stand upright. If the wind keeps up, we will be on them very soon.’

Again Jay spoke barely above the whisper so the wind could not carry a single sound to the ears of the Spanish Captain’s men.

AITOR ZABALA, master gunner

Aitor walked through the low ceilinged gun deck, inspecting each gun with rigour. He did this every fortnight, and would not rest till all the cannons were up to his meticulously high standards. He checked in his regular way: check the Cascabel, the reinforces and the chase for cracks and anything which could cause catastrophic failure; check the action of the wheels, that it is easily pushed into place and able to roll back after the fire of a gun; then check the vent, if it's large enough and strong and lastly, he used a makeshift caliber check, a circle of wood on a stick, the right size to assess the bore of the rifle, checking if it had swelled or shrunk or been somehow widened or thinned. It took a long time to assess each individual gun, but if just one gun malfunctioned, it could spell the death of multiple seamen, and even the loss of the ship because of fire. His job was boring, but, with few friends aboard the ship, he had a lot of free time to do this boring job.

After every gun was deemed satisfactory to his high standards, he went below decks to check the stores. He checked the round shot, chain shot and grape shot, and transferred any wrongly placed rounds into their proper container. He smiled. His pride and joy were all well kept and maintained, just as he liked it. Striding forward he went to the magazine. He looked at the multiple barrels and smiled. 'Excellent, just as I left them' They hadn't moved since the last time he had checked them, but then he had a brief moment of uncertainty. He slowly walked forward. He came to the first barrel. Lifting the lid cautiously, he peered inside. Lemons. He swore. He lifted the next lid. Apples. All but two barrels contained nothing but fruit. He ran to the deck cursing between each breath.

His footsteps running to the deck were loud enough to break the almost silence on the deck, it was very quiet till he yelled to the crew ''Which of you idiots put the fruit store in the magazine!?'' He was fuming, and he threw a lemon on the ground with a satisfying squelch. He slammed his boot onto it with enough strength that could have broken a bone. The pieces of lemon went flying everywhere. ''Dios mio, if I don't find out now, I will personally whip each and every one of you to within an inch of your lives! Which one of you is stupid enough to put a barrel of fruit next to gunpowder?'' He stood still as everyone looked around from their positions to see what the commotion was all about.

Bene Sailor

Bene heard the man shout, the shout carried easily upwards, on such a clear but dark night, but he kept his head down and said nothing.

No one would look up at him, because ‘ him’ was supposed to be his friend who didn’t work on the stores, he was always in rigging or on watch.

Gulping he felt the usual pangs of guilt and blushed…..it was him…he had put what he thought was the two barrels of gun powder by the magazine, if it was fruit, then that meant the gunpowder must be in the kitchen stores with the other lemons and oranges....

Swallowing more spit, and ducking further down in the basket he stayed quiet, perhaps something else would distract the Master Gunner, and he would forget his quest to find the culprit.

This post has been written by Ren

JUANGUI EXPOSITO, able seaman

Juangui saw Bene’s reaction – and he knew very well that it should have been him the one who misplaced the barrels. But Chispa was already going to explode of fury, he didn’t need one more voice to tell him a guilty one’s name. The cat would be Bene’s tomorrow otherwise, and he had tasted the caresses of the “Captain’s daughter” more than enough.

Why did he befriend Bene? Simply because they shared the misfortune of growing without parents… This was enough. He didn’t have known brothers, but each of those who grew next to a church or as a street rat and a stowaway on a ship were his brothers. Besides, it was his instinct of protecting the weaker – and if Juangui had learnt about steering a ship and about reefing and rigging properly, not the same thing could be told about Bene, who wasn’t capable to reach the status of able seaman.

He made a cross, half hidden by a sail, hoping that Bene wouldn’t be discovered to face Chispa’s anger, and kept busy with taking in the sails, waiting to hear ``Go below the watch!''. But who didn’t? Rest was so appealing…

This post has been written by ELENA

KEVIN PRICE and NEIL DONOVAN

While Jay was talking to Francois, who, still resenting after the wound, was not the most useful gunner now, better that Jay had taken him to help with casting the log, Kevin repeated in a whisper the instructions to the master gunner, then both of them passed the word to the gun captains. They shouldn’t hurry, aim well and fire only when ready. They were close enough for a broadside to damage even the galleon’s hull, and the dark sails, together with the lack of position lights, made them unseen in the darkness…

It was difficult to aim only at the moonlight, and both Kevin and Neil knew this; however, this new strategy had proven benefic for the small privateer vessel. It compensated for the difference of dimensions and gun power.

”Come on, lads! You can do it this time too, even better than to that pinnace three weeks ago! This one is much fatter!” he whispered here and there.

Neil smiled and nodded. Of course he could do it. And soon a deafening sound roared across the waters between the tiny privateer vessel and the big galleon, as the first cannonade allegedly hit its mark. Others would follow, no doubt…

This post has been written by ELENA