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Narcisa Caro
Captain Ambrogio twirled his mustache casually as Pierre approached. "So I saw, Monsieur Dupont. It is rare to see you with such...vigor. Such spices to be added to our own cuisine sounds quite acceptable, yes--but if there are any not up to your--OUR standards--then I trust you will inform me, so that we might trade them." He gave his mustache one more twirl, and a sly grin upon his face. "And I trust you will give your cleaver a few wipes with a cloth before you prepare meals with it again, yes? Our foodstuffs may be won with blood, but I would rather not *dine* on it."

The Merchant Vessel

The group of sailors under Morgan's charge closed in on the pile of loot arrayed before them. At first they were like children, bickering and arguing and pulling and tearing, but under the stern glare of their first mate and under the threat of losing fingers, they quickly sorted themselves out and shared the loot among them fairly.

Narcisa Caro



The Devil's Skull & Fist

The pirates definitely seemed to be winning, being superior in number and having taken out many of the opposing crew with the ram. The British did have a slight advantage over them, in that they were better trained, better disciplined and better armed, but their numerical inferiority made such advantages for nothing.

Suddenly, a cry went up from the pirate ship, from a sentry atop the central mast, who had someone managed to cling on to the fabric for dear life while the two ships had collided.

"Captain, enemies ahoy! British fleet approaching! Five ships or so! A third rate at its head, by the looks of it!"

If Nelson looked at where the pirate was pointing, he may just see the vague outline of a large ship and some smaller escorts huddled around it, each ship larger than Nelson's. With islands and sandbanks to his north and east, and the fleet approaching from the south-east, he could only go westward, which would, unbeknownst to Nelson, lead him back to where he was supposed to go, the Caicos islands.

"Oui, of course," acknowledged Pierre. He held up the part of his apron that was now stained after he'd wiped his knife on it. "See, I have already taken care of it in part. But certainly, I shall give an extra rinse to the knife so that my future plates do not contain the, eh... foreign seasoning." He chuckled.

"GET THESE [&@%!] OFF THE SHIP AND GET US THE [&@%!] OUT OF HERE!" Nelson ordered the crew upon seeing the british fleet. Whilst he wasn't scared by the fleet, he knew that it would be sucide to tangle with them and suspected that he may have fallen for a trap. "Leave their wounded on board for questioning later and get our wounded healed." He told his first mate and knew that the orders would be relayed. He hated running away but his ship was just one and against an entire fleet, it would be like fighting with a wooden prick.

Narcisa Caro

Those cannons from the merchant vessel that could be salvaged were transported across to the Narcisa Caro, to replace those guns that had been lost or damaged during the brief but brutal skirmish. There were just enough cannons to bring the total number of guns back up to 44, the same as there had been when the Narcisa Caro had been back at port. The merchant ship, now devoid of loot, was then secured to the Narcisa Caro by rope and rigging, and the ship set off on its merry way.

Devil's Skull and Fist

Given that the two ships were still mangled together, with their rigging and ropes wrapped around each other's, it was slightly easier said that done to get the Devil's Skull and Fist "the [&@%!] out of here". The pirates quickly threw themselves into the mass of ropes, slicing them away, trying to free their ship. At last, the pirate ship was free, and just in the nick of time. The third rate opened fire on the ship with its forward cannons, killing some poor lad beside Nelson and injuring a few others. The Devil's Skull and Fist pulled away from the sixth rate, with the British flotilla in hot pursuit. After some time, though, the British ships broke off the chase, seemingly to go and tend to the damaged sixth rate they had left behind, giving the Devil's Skull and Fist the time to flee in safety.

North of the Turks & Caicos Islands

By the time the Narcisa Caro made it to the waters around the Turks & Caicos Islands, Albert Holst had already been there for some time, waiting patiently, having enjoyed a serene and peaceful journey, unblemished by any skirmishes with merchants or with foreign navies. The Devil's Skull and Fist arrived in the same area about a half hour after that, with Nelson having managed to navigate through the minefield of sandbars and small islands and making it make to his original destination.

The region was desolate and devoid of any maritime trade. A low mist clung to the calm, languid waters, waters so calm that it appeared the very energy had been sucked out of them, like they had been poisoned, with a demeanour similar to that of an ill and bedridden man. The climate had taken a sudden cold spell, and the clouds were grey and the sun's rays cold and weak. The pirate captains may not have believed in such nonsense as ghost ships, but some of them undoubtedly could see why the merchant rabble and their crews would. In a word, the region seemed haunted.

Narcisa Caro
Captain Ambrogio frowned as the Skullfist or whatever appeared on the horizon. "Unfortunate that they did not beach themselves or find some other means by which to leave our seas. Ah well, their captain will see to his own end soon enough."

The Italian Rapscallion sniffled at the ill weather. "We shall continue sailing about for a but few hours' time, so that we might dispel rumors of 'ghost ships'. But no longer than that. I will not have us waste our time hunting every corner of this patch of ocean for fables, while we have cargo--and a vessel, to trade!" He hacked violently into his handkerchief, and calmly observed the area from the deck of his ship. "Keep your sights sharp, men. Perhaps there is a wreck from a battle that has our fellows 'spooked'."

Pierre was not presently engaged in preparing any refreshment, and so he found himself on the deck. His mouth turned downwards in a frown at the poor conditions, not that such a look was that much distinguishable from his normal facial expression.

"Bah, I did not come to les Caraïbes for the same weather I get on a rainy day in Cherbourg," he griped, this being what he said more or less every time he sailed through bad weather. Although, he had to admit there was something about this place today that was a bit more sinister than the average storm front. He cast his eyes out across the eerily still waters, partly of his own volition, and partly following Ambrogio's orders to look for anything out of the ordinary.