The day started out well, a strong breeze, but unusually calm waters. I busied myself about the Whitby, being fleet Admiral for the Defense Corps stationed there, gathering papers and keeping watch. Moored next to the great ship was the smaller Alabama steamer.
The new SPD Alabama was a Brigantine class ship, two masts, sleak, slender hull, modeled after the agile Sea Dog Brigantine, so not only could she move fast, but manuverable aswell.
As the sun rose higher, I pondered my earlier decision to make use of Lord Linden's pine trees as kindling rather than take my fill of coal from one of the large colliers that sat in the bay here.
I once more raised the spyglass having pushed those thoughts from my head and scanned the waters and shore.
I spotted Officer Dylan on shore and immediately shot up a white flare, hoping he'd notice. No sooner had the flare died out than he was on the Whitby.
We talked for a while, he noting how perfect the winds were for sail that day, and both of us kept the thought of pirates out of the conversation, this area usually being heavilly infested with them like lice on a poor man's head.
The two of us being pirates ourselves basked in irony from time to time, but no one asked questions, having myself been promoted through the ranks to Vice Admiral by the leader, Chase.
I once more took up my spyglass and searched the seas when Dylan called out. "7 oclock! Two masts, full sails!" I turned quickly to catch view through the magnifying tube and saw not one set, but two sets of dual masts making their way around the Jinsil coast, making high speed towards the Sanchon waters.
I ordered Dylan to the Alabama and made him prime the guns full as I took to tossing some logs into the furnace, causing the stack to puff smoke thicker than she did a mere few minutes before.
Luckily both ships passed us with little worry, one flying the skull and crossbones, another the Spanish Main. Both being enemies of my Yankee pride and Confederate colors, they were prime targets for me and my crewman.
After a few minutes they had engaged eachother and I set the ropes off to release the Alabama from her bigger cousin and make for the fray.
The alabama is a good ship, near and dear to me as she seems to have a soul of her own. With the heat of Hell's fury in her boilers and the smell of Satan's sulfur in her smoke, she easilly outclasses the other Brigantines.
As we took her turn in stride, wheel hard to our starboard, her masts creaked and her hull groaned as if a beast had been woken.
i ordered speed increased from full, to flank, and we easilly topped 11 knots over the water.
As we closed, the two ships fired a full broadside at eachother, now was our moment.
I quickly lashed the safety valves down as the steam pressure rose, we reached 15 knots as the ship threw up a great wake, the water frothing behind our stern from the single screw under us.
As we neared closer, I saw the look on Dylan's face that I knew far too well, the look of bloodlust and excitement, battle was his home, and he intended to go there, with or without a ship.
"Ready the guns!" I shouted to him which he responded with profanities to me of being ready and how he'd rake them good.
We caught luck and were able to steam between the two, the deep bellow of her steam whistle shrieked above the noise of battle before all our cannons opened up with a mighty roar, the waters shook and the ship rocked as each shot left it's steel home to fly into wood and fabric.
Both ships took all our shot. I watched as the ship off our port took a round severing a crewman's arm, two more into her hull and one through the mainsail. The other ship took our shot high as we rolled on a wave and we shredded her sails, slowing her to a crawl.
With great haste I kept the boilers hot and sped away from the two ships, the iron of the furnace almost glowing red from the flames while one of the enemy turned their ship to face us with her four guns. Puffs of smoke popped from her sides and i called out, "Make ready, incoming rounds!".
Three plumes of water on our sides lifted straight up 20 feet or more and rained sea water on us, the fourth shot struck our stern.
That shell woke the beast into a fury as dylan and i held tight.
The ship lurched forward and increased speed, water rooster tailing behind us as I fought to keep the wheel angled, the ship was pulling to port as if she wanted to go back and give them what for.
As we managed to escape between the two colliers stationed in the harbor, our rigging snagged while one of the other ships went down. "Dylan! It won't be long before they come for us! Scurry yer furry arse up the mast and cut the rigging, all of it!"
Profanity once more filled the air as Dylan climbed fast and began hacking. I saw the top masts of the other ship turn towards us. Bits of rope fell to the decks, a top spar dropped and bounced overboard before the ship jerked and we were free.
I once more gave her a quick spin of the helm and pushed the steady growl of the steam engine full open, making flank speed again before fighting the wheel over for a hard turn. We now faced our rival foremast to foremast as we made a terriffic wake.
We closed quickly and I tugged the lanyard for the whistle, once more that deep bellow echoed off the waters and filled the enemy's ears before Dylan raked her full, incapacitating the enemy in her place.
I immediately cut the engines to full reverse and turned the wheel over to port, turning the ship on her beams as she fought the water's grasp on her planking and returned to our enemy.
Once more we raked their ship and with a belly of iron, she went to the bottom.
We circled the water above the sunken vessel before heading for shore, there finding a group of pirates saluting with one finger.
Upon mooring i inspected the ship, we suffered one hit to our stern, one through a sail, another through the stack. One cannonball from our opposer rolled about the deck, which we promptly handed off to that captain.
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