Post by PIC on Sept 28, 2023 11:51:11 GMT -5
SEPTEMBER 10, 1880
The two weeks since the HMS Atalanta rounded Cape Verde off the western coast of Africa have been rather uneventful. This time of year is known for its big storms, but it’s been smooth sailing for Captain Francis Stirling and is crew.
The same can’t be said for what’s been happening on board. Stirling, since securing the Bravery TRIAD in Nepal some weeks earlier, has become increasingly difficult to work with. His power trip has only escalated in what many on the crew believe to be compensation for his lack of actual bravery.
After all, Stirling had sacrificed the lives of several of his own men just to gain possession of the piece, and in doing so, lost all respect with his crew. Regardless of his outward bravado, it is obvious Stirling is just as cowardly as ever.
The ship is set to cross the Tropic of Cancer later this afternoon. From there, it’s northeast along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge to Ponta Delgada, and from there… Britain. Crossing the Tropic of Cancer is key, as doing so eliminates nearly all possibility of encountering a hurricane on this voyage, a near miracle this time of year.
“Pirates!” The cry from the crow’s nest high above the Atalanta’s deck brings all of its crew out from the hull. “Pirates at two o’clock… Starboard!”
The crew rushes around. Sure enough, just off to the northeast of the ship is a much smaller vessel, flying the Jolly Roger and headed straight in their direction. Jenkins, the ship’s first mate, yells out to one of his subordinates.
“Wake the captain, we have an emergency!”
The subordinate salutes, then runs into the hull of the ship, down a flight of stairs, a corridor, and another flight before arriving in the barracks down below. He knocks on the door of a private room. After getting no response, he knocks again. Finally, Captain Francis Stirling emerges from the room, groggy and none too pleased to be woken from his slumber.
“Bloody hell! I shall have you courtmarshaled for waking me!”
“I… I’m sorry sir,” the young seamen quivered. “P..p…Pirates!”
Stirling curses. He goes into his room and emerges fully dressed in his uniform. The two make the trek back up through the gally and corridors until they emerge on deck. Stirling is directed to the starboard side of the ship where he sees the pirate ship, now only several hundred feet away. The ship is clearly much smaller than theirs, and close enough to see the crew is nowhere near the size. Jenkins approaches.
“Sir, we’ve scouted the vessel, and she should be easy to overtake. Our men are ready, and the fight should be swift and efficient.”
Stirling pauses as the hair on the back of his neck stands up. Why is he so scared of a smaller vessel when he has the best trained men in Her Majesty’s Navy at his disposal. His mind wanders to the TRIAD. If it were to slip into the hands of pirates, if HE were responsible, he knows his career and status would come to a crashing halt.
“Sir? Captain Stirling? Should we engage?” Jenkins asked. He is brave, he is ready to defend the Atalanta at all costs.
Stirling looks past the stern into the horizon where a group of clouds has formed. A few flashes of lightning can be seen and the seas slowly begin to get rough.
“Negative Jenkins,” Stirling responds. “Make way for that storm!”
“Sir,” Jenkins replies confusingly. “I don’t understand. We can take them.”
“I know we can take them. But I’m not taking any chances with the TRIAD. A ship their size in a storm that large has no chance of surviving. They’ll turn away long before we ever reach the worst of it, and then it will be clear skies the rest of the way.”
“But, sir!”
“That’s an order Jenkins!”
Jenkins sighs. “Yes, sir.”
Jenkins barks out the orders, Stirling ensures they’re followed to the letter. The mighty HMS Atalanta, full of the most skilled navy men in the world, turns to run from an inferior challenger. The pirate ship follows, but with the Atalanta’s speed, the smaller ship is no match. The Atalanta is a few hundred feet away from the storm when the pirate ship begins to alter course. True to Stirling’s thoughts, the smaller ship knows it cannot survive a storm of this magnitude. Stirling is brimming with pride atop the deck as he watches his would be adversaries scurry away across the Atlantic.
“Just as I suspected, they wanted no part in a storm like this.” Gentlemen, set course for Ponta Delgada!”
The wind from the east suddenly picks up. That storm is moving fast and the ship is not responding to the crew’s attempts to alter course.
“Captain Stirling! We’re being sucked backwards into this storm!”
Stirling rushes to the bridge. He tries every veteran maneuver taught to him at the academy, but it’s of no use. It’s as if some unknown force is pulling them in. The waves around them are raging. The sun is no longer in sight, replaced by the most ominous clouds you’ve ever seen. Lightning strikes on both sides of the ship simultaneously. The crew fears for their lives. Jenkins rushes up to the captain, a look of sheer panic on his face.
“Captain Stirling, what do we do?”
Stirling walks past him, staring out into the storm and completely ignoring Jenkins’ question. His eyes are fixated on the multiple funnel clouds he sees ahead. His ship being sucked into the vortex. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the Bravery TRIAD. He stares down at it, then back out into the distance as the HMS Atalanta is swallowed up by the sea.
The two weeks since the HMS Atalanta rounded Cape Verde off the western coast of Africa have been rather uneventful. This time of year is known for its big storms, but it’s been smooth sailing for Captain Francis Stirling and is crew.
The same can’t be said for what’s been happening on board. Stirling, since securing the Bravery TRIAD in Nepal some weeks earlier, has become increasingly difficult to work with. His power trip has only escalated in what many on the crew believe to be compensation for his lack of actual bravery.
After all, Stirling had sacrificed the lives of several of his own men just to gain possession of the piece, and in doing so, lost all respect with his crew. Regardless of his outward bravado, it is obvious Stirling is just as cowardly as ever.
The ship is set to cross the Tropic of Cancer later this afternoon. From there, it’s northeast along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge to Ponta Delgada, and from there… Britain. Crossing the Tropic of Cancer is key, as doing so eliminates nearly all possibility of encountering a hurricane on this voyage, a near miracle this time of year.
“Pirates!” The cry from the crow’s nest high above the Atalanta’s deck brings all of its crew out from the hull. “Pirates at two o’clock… Starboard!”
The crew rushes around. Sure enough, just off to the northeast of the ship is a much smaller vessel, flying the Jolly Roger and headed straight in their direction. Jenkins, the ship’s first mate, yells out to one of his subordinates.
“Wake the captain, we have an emergency!”
The subordinate salutes, then runs into the hull of the ship, down a flight of stairs, a corridor, and another flight before arriving in the barracks down below. He knocks on the door of a private room. After getting no response, he knocks again. Finally, Captain Francis Stirling emerges from the room, groggy and none too pleased to be woken from his slumber.
“Bloody hell! I shall have you courtmarshaled for waking me!”
“I… I’m sorry sir,” the young seamen quivered. “P..p…Pirates!”
Stirling curses. He goes into his room and emerges fully dressed in his uniform. The two make the trek back up through the gally and corridors until they emerge on deck. Stirling is directed to the starboard side of the ship where he sees the pirate ship, now only several hundred feet away. The ship is clearly much smaller than theirs, and close enough to see the crew is nowhere near the size. Jenkins approaches.
“Sir, we’ve scouted the vessel, and she should be easy to overtake. Our men are ready, and the fight should be swift and efficient.”
Stirling pauses as the hair on the back of his neck stands up. Why is he so scared of a smaller vessel when he has the best trained men in Her Majesty’s Navy at his disposal. His mind wanders to the TRIAD. If it were to slip into the hands of pirates, if HE were responsible, he knows his career and status would come to a crashing halt.
“Sir? Captain Stirling? Should we engage?” Jenkins asked. He is brave, he is ready to defend the Atalanta at all costs.
Stirling looks past the stern into the horizon where a group of clouds has formed. A few flashes of lightning can be seen and the seas slowly begin to get rough.
“Negative Jenkins,” Stirling responds. “Make way for that storm!”
“Sir,” Jenkins replies confusingly. “I don’t understand. We can take them.”
“I know we can take them. But I’m not taking any chances with the TRIAD. A ship their size in a storm that large has no chance of surviving. They’ll turn away long before we ever reach the worst of it, and then it will be clear skies the rest of the way.”
“But, sir!”
“That’s an order Jenkins!”
Jenkins sighs. “Yes, sir.”
Jenkins barks out the orders, Stirling ensures they’re followed to the letter. The mighty HMS Atalanta, full of the most skilled navy men in the world, turns to run from an inferior challenger. The pirate ship follows, but with the Atalanta’s speed, the smaller ship is no match. The Atalanta is a few hundred feet away from the storm when the pirate ship begins to alter course. True to Stirling’s thoughts, the smaller ship knows it cannot survive a storm of this magnitude. Stirling is brimming with pride atop the deck as he watches his would be adversaries scurry away across the Atlantic.
“Just as I suspected, they wanted no part in a storm like this.” Gentlemen, set course for Ponta Delgada!”
The wind from the east suddenly picks up. That storm is moving fast and the ship is not responding to the crew’s attempts to alter course.
“Captain Stirling! We’re being sucked backwards into this storm!”
Stirling rushes to the bridge. He tries every veteran maneuver taught to him at the academy, but it’s of no use. It’s as if some unknown force is pulling them in. The waves around them are raging. The sun is no longer in sight, replaced by the most ominous clouds you’ve ever seen. Lightning strikes on both sides of the ship simultaneously. The crew fears for their lives. Jenkins rushes up to the captain, a look of sheer panic on his face.
“Captain Stirling, what do we do?”
Stirling walks past him, staring out into the storm and completely ignoring Jenkins’ question. His eyes are fixated on the multiple funnel clouds he sees ahead. His ship being sucked into the vortex. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the Bravery TRIAD. He stares down at it, then back out into the distance as the HMS Atalanta is swallowed up by the sea.