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| Repercussions; January 1751 | |
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| Topic Started: 6 Apr 2007, 03:16 PM (289 Views) | |
| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:16 PM Post #1 |
A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Brendan. OOC - All characters within are NPCs for the time being. IC - HM Sloop Falcon re-entered the bay without a trace of the grace and dignity that had marked her departure. It had taken a full two days for the badly battered sloop to sail home and her surviving crew had worked themselves to exhaustion. Lieutenant Gabriel Alderbury could not have been more proud of his men. They had buried their dead mates at sea with as much composure as they could muster and carried on the business of sailing. A remarkable group of men. Alderbury admired them fully. Their losses had been heavy. Falcon had sailed from Port Royal with ninety sailors, twenty-five marines, and four officers. She returned with seventy-four sailors, twelve marines, and three officers. Alderbury was ashamed of the numbers. Thirty-one men had been lost, with fifty-two men wounded. How stupid he'd been, to order his crew to board the enemy ship! He had been blinded by his own bloodlust and his men had paid for it with their lives. Falcon's undamaged cannons banged out a pathetic salute as the sloop passed the fort. Alderbury winced. Only five guns were serviceable enough to make the formal gesture. He wasn't relieved when the fort returned the salute after a pause. Without a doubt a runner had been despatched to fetch the Commodore. There would be no happy ending to this. "Mister Martinson, hands aloft to reef topsails. We can at least keep up the appearance of a proper sloop-of-war." Nobody smiled. He hadn't expected anyone to. The reality lay around them, in the sad shambles of Falcon's once elegant form. Alderbury felt his shame deepen. Who was he to make light of their situation? He was sure he was headed for the brig at the very least - if not the noose itself. Carelessness was not looked upon kindly by the Navy, especially when it resulted in the crippling of a fine ship such as Falcon. "Make anchor, Mister Martinson. I dare not bring her any closer." Alderbury ordered. The bosun lifted his pipe to his lips. Sailors appeared on deck to carry out their tasks. Alderbury turned to look up at the fort. Sunlight glinted off the glass of numerous telescopes, all fixed on Falcon. He turned away quickly, hiding his expression from the observers. Now was not the time for self-pity anyway. There were formalities still to be rendered. "Call away my gig if you please, Mister Colburn. My compliments to Lieutenant Forsythe and would he join me here with all speed." "Aye sir." The bosun's mate knuckled his forehead and hurried away to carry out his tasks. A bandage was wrapped around the man's head, covering the gash he had received during the failed boarding action. Alderbury was sure every man aboard blamed him for the current state of affairs. He certainly blamed himself enough for all of them and then some. "We're with yeh to the end, sir." Alderbury looked up from his study of the charred deck beneath him to see Martinson the bosun. "I appreciate that, William." It was the first time he had ever used the man's first name, but thankfully Martinson didn't show any reaction to the unusual informality. "In the end, I don't think it will matter." "Keep yer head up, sir. It'll turn out," the bosun said with a touch of gruffness. "Boat's ready, sir." The lieutenant sighed wearily. He wasn't looking forward to making his report at all. "Thank you, Martinson." The bosun knuckled his forehead and moved away, to be replaced moments later by Lieutenant Forsythe. A dirty bandage covered one side of the marine officer's face and Alderbury was somewhat surprised to see Forsythe's arm in a makeshift sling. "They'll want a hanging for this I'm sure." Alderbury lead the way to the maindeck and down into the waiting gig. "It's a sad affair, this." Forsythe didn't offer a reply to that as he clambered awkwardly into the gig. The bowman cast off and they were on their way toward the docks. A sense of doom came over Alderbury as he watched a carriage jerk to a stop near the pier that was their destination. An escort of mounted marines meant it was probably the Commodore himself come to order Alderbury's immediate hanging. This would not end well at all. |
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| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:16 PM Post #2 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Norrington. Norrington had been called from his office after Fort Charles had been saluted, by a none too forthcoming lieutenant. He had come out to see what was all the fuss, he hoped it wasn't some damn surprise for him, but he didn't press for the reason even though it was even within his rights. It was just the damn cold he was suffering from. He didn't really feel up to pressuring for the answers at this moment. The lieutenant brought him out to the courtyard and then out to the parapet, and he saw the source of the salute, and stood dumb. He stared at the approaching sloop, the Falcon, and his eyes roamed over the damage--sails in shreds, masts toppled, lines and rigging a jumbled mess, limping sailors...the Falcon had clearly seen battle. But with whom was the question. "Excuse me," Norrington already stalking off. Of all the bloody things to happen, this is what was going on. There was only so much drilling in the world they could do, and mock battles to keep themselves ready in case of the eventuality, but now this was getting absurd. The Falcon had severe damage from what he saw, and since he wasn't actually on the ship to see how bad things were there...there was the possibility that she was a complete loss. That was out of the question. If he lost yet another ship after the Interceptor...he wouldn't let it come to that, plain and simple. If only there was someone he could pass this trouble on to. If he could just topple over and faint--no, no better yet die, then he wouldn't have to deal with this whole mess. He was in no mood to walk out to the docks to meet Lieutenant Alderbury personally and find out what had happened, and he very much doubted that he was up to riding there at the moment either. That left two options, not going, or taking a carriage. Despite his intense dislike of those four wheeled contraptions, he opted for the latter, as the former was not a true option. *** The carriage rolled to a stop at the Navy's docks, surrounded by mounted marines. Now if that didn't scream, "Commodore onboard," then what would? Norrington didn't wait for anyone to open the door, he shoved it open himself and hopped out, nearly catching the frog on his sword belt, and his sword on the seats and he landed. He turned to stare at the approaching boat, trying to keep his features blank and neutral, but his eyes were filled with anger. |
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| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:17 PM Post #3 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Brendan. Alderbury's eyes were fixed on the carriage, his expression betraying the fear he felt. It was Commodore Norrington himself bounding from the carriage. The mounted marines who comprised his escort were spread out around the carriage in a way Alderbury found ominous. Then again, he was so scared of what might be said and done, he would have found a harmless mouse threatening. "Steady, sir," Forsythe murmured as the gig neared the dock. The marine officer's presence was a small relief to Alderbury. He knew the man's courage to be beyond measure. Hell, Forsythe had leapt from the falling maintop to save one of his marines who was hopelessly tangled in torn rigging. If that wasn't courage, what was? "I have a decidedly bad feeling about this." Alderbury felt his own courage waver as he watched the Commodore stride angrily toward the dock. Forsythe's hand closed around his forearm, a gesture of support, then the tillerman called out the order to ship oars. It was time to face his failure. The bowman hooked on to the dock and sprang nimbly up onto the wooden structure, swiftly tying off the fore and aft lines. Alderbury climbed the dock ladder as quickly as he could, making way for Forsythe, who was helped to the dock by the bowman. The marine lieutenant looked a proper mess, with his arm in a sling and his face bandaged. He knew he looked little better. His arm and side were well-bandaged as well and his jacket didn't fit right as a result. Neither did the gig's crew make a respectable appearance. The lot of them had clearly been involved in combat and had come out the worse for it. "What shall I say?" Forsythe lifted a singed eyebrow at Alderbury's uncharacteristic helplessness. "The truth is often the best course of action, sir." Alderbury had been afraid that would be the marine's response. He shuddered as they approached the Commodore. His mind raced for a way to present the ugly truth in such a manner that he would not be immediately clapped in irons and dragged away. How could he manage such a thing, though? His beloved Falcon lay at anchor in the harbour, horribly disfigured, and his crew was reduced to an ineffectual lot of walking wounded. Norrington would strip him of command, at the very least. "Commodore, sir..." Alderbury began, saluting the superior officer smartly. Then his voice trailed off and the explanation he had constructed vanished from his mind. "Sir, I can..." I can what? Explain how thirty-one good men died needlessly because of my own arrogance? It was then he was surpassed, to his complete shock and dismay. Forsythe stepped forward, offering an awkward salute with his injured arm. What the devil was the man doing? This was his fault and his alone! And yet, Alderbury watched, speechless, as the marine placed himself squarely between the angry Commodore and Alderbury. "Sir, First Lieutenant Colin Forsythe. The blame for the wreck you see in the harbour is mine. I convinced Lieutenant Alderbury to close with and engage an unindentified enemy frigate, approximately at four bells, not two days past." The lie rolled easily from the marine's mouth, leaving Alderbury's mind reeling. Hadn't Forsythe just told him that the truth was often the best course of action? Then it occurred to him that Forsythe was falling on his sword to spare Alderbury from punishment. But why? He scarcely spoke to the marine officer, even when they were at sea. What could possibly possess the man to step up and shoulder blame that was not his to bear? He had no reason to doubt Forsythe's courage or loyalty. The man had saved his life aboard that frigate and now he was quite possibly saving it again. But why? |
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| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:17 PM Post #4 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Norrington. "Sir, First Lieutenant Colin Forsythe. The blame for the wreck you see in the harbour is mine. I convinced Lieutenant Alderbury to close with and engage an unindentified enemy frigate, approximately at four bells, not two days past." Norrington's gaze traveled from Alderbury to Forsythe. It held a heated anger. He would have appreciated the opportunity to ask what the hell had happened, details being what he was after of course, as any man could tell that the returning crew had been engaged in battle, and not have been given the answer straight off. Being given the answer first almost made it seem like Forsythe was trying to invent an excuse for the actions taken, and there was very little that Norrington loathed more in his officers than not taking responsibility for their actions. "Forsythe, your dedication to your commander here is admirable, however, blame falls to the commanding officer, not the lievtenant in charge of the marines. It was his final decision to engage the enemy, not your own." He turned back to regard Alderbury, and his gaze softened. His anger slipped away just fading into the same sort of resigned tiredness he'd been feeling the past few days. That same feeling of the utter bleakness of matters. The impending inquiry into the loss of the Interceptor, and just everything, and now with the issue of the Falcon topping it all. He truly doubted that there was anyone in the world who was having as rotten a row of luck as he was. "We can only make the decisions that we think are best with the information we have at the time. You did your duty, apparently, and were beaten. It happens, it does not make it right, nor does it make it any more bearable. We simply must accept what has happened and continue on," he rubbed at his temples, he couldn't recall if the Falcon had brought a surgeon with them, or one of the mates from back at the fort, a terrible lapse in memory, and one quite uncharacteristic of him, but no doubt whomever was currently stretched thin attending the wounded. He turned to one of the mounted marines, "hurry back as quick as you can and tell Mr Beckett to prepare to receive wounded." He let the marine hurry off to warn his hand picked surgeon as to what was going on. A mess...a grand mess of affairs. And, he still needed far more information that what he had. He needed to know whom it was they attacked, were they pirates? Another country's navy (ooh, that would be a pleasure to try and to explain to the Governor, Admiralty, and Parliament, especially if they were not one of their enemy nations. What were their armaments, approximate crew, all that stuff that he would need to take properly document what had happened. Though, sympathetic to Alderbury right now or not, he planned on making the lievtenant do the majority of that writing. "Alderbury, Forsythe, this is a conversation that necessitates continuation, however," he said with a glance over the sorry and wounded state of the two men, "you look like you are more in need of immediate attention now. My carriage can be used to transport back the more serious cases of...injury, but I hope the two of you can make it back to the Fort on foot?" He said, concern evident. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know the number of casualties involved. It was no doubt high. |
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| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:17 PM Post #5 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Brendan. "Forsythe, your dedication to your commander here is admirable, however, blame falls to the commanding officer, not the lievtenant in charge of the marines. It was his final decision to engage the enemy, not your own." "Yes, sir." His face betrayed no trace of his emtions, but Lieutenant Colin Forsythe was disappointed that his attempt to place himself in the hangman's noose - so to speak - had been scuttled so quickly. The reasons for it were varied, most prominent among them was the hard-learned lesson that loyalty travels in two directions; both up and down the chain of command. How else could he assuage his own guilt for the marines he had lost? He had ordered a three-rank firing formation on the deck of the enemy frigate, leaving his men open to the slaughter. Nearly half his marines were cut down where they stood after firing only a single volley. What sort of shoddy leadership allowed such a thing to occur? He had stood there, seemingly calm and collected, as he called the firing commands, but he was trying so hard to conceal his terror. The sword that had sliced the muscles of his arm so thoroughly had come at him as he stood there. His arm was ruined now, or nearly so, according to Falcon's weary surgeon. Surprisingly, the anger in Commodore Norrington's expression eased as he studied the two men. Forsythe shifted uncomfortably at the change. Fury he could handle. But the resignation he saw flitting acros the commodore's face was something else entirely. What else had been going on while Falcon had been at sea getting her guts torn out? "We can only make the decisions that we think are best with the information we have at the time. You did your duty, apparently, and were beaten. It happens, it does not make it right, nor does it make it any more bearable. We simply must accept what has happened and continue on." Lieutenant Alderbury had apparently regained some of his composure, for he spoke in a somewhat steadier voice than previously. "We were hopelessly outmatched, sir. I was a fool for ordering a close exchange." What's done is done, sir, Forsythe thought sadly. The faces of his fallen marines were drifting across his mind, the bold and loyal men who had believed he could not lead them wrong. He had led them wrong, because they were dead. His best chance to prove his detachment's ability had come with the sighting of the enemy ship but he had failed his men, denying them the honour to which they were more than entitled. He could not articulate this to Alderbury and expect him to understand. All he could do was hope the other officer would accept the fatalistic offering of loyalty at face value. Forsythe rubbed his injured arm gently, biting back a hiss of pain. Doctor Eckleston had done his best to stitch the long wound. His prognosis was not a promising one. If what the surgeon said was true, Forsythe would never have full use of his arm again, meaning probable invalidation out of service. To no longer be a marine. He hated to think of such a thing. "Alderbury, Forsythe, this is a conversation that necessitates continuation, however, you look like you are more in need of immediate attention now. My carriage can be used to transport back the more serious cases of...injury, but I hope the two of you can make it back to the Fort on foot?" Patronising though he perceived the commodore to be, Forsythe was experienced enough to recognise the man's concern. He would be more comfortable if given a horse, but he doubted that idea would be well-received. Further, he didn't think any of the mounted marines would relish having to surrender their horse to a dishevelled and wounded officer, marine or not. Besides, these were Lieutenant Cartwright's marines. The junior officers were notoriously territorial about their detachments and Forsythe knew better than to force his authority. "More than able to, sir," Forsythe said with a hint of irony. Walking was perhaps the only thing the two men were well-suited to at the moment. It would afford him time to mentally compose his report to Captain Collins, as he would have to make a report as soon as he arrived at the fort. Not an event he was looking forward to at all. Alderbury said, "I should like to remain here to see to my men, sir." Of course he would. In Forsythe's opinion, the young lieutenant didn't give himself enough credit. He had performed admirably during the battle but seemed insistent on believing he had gone from one blunder to another in succession. The Lieutenant of Marines attempted another salute and this time did let out a noise of pain as one of the stitches holding his muscles together popped free. "By your leave, Commodore," he hissed, striving to keep his face blank. |
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| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:17 PM Post #6 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Norrington. "I should like to remain here to see to my men, sir." "And that is..is certainly within your rights," Norrington said, sounding a bit more nasally than normal. Half way through that sentence he had felt like he was going to sneeze, and then...quite without reason, he couldn't now. Frustrating, and just another thing that wasn't going well today. Not like anything already had, but wasn't he due for something good? Even if it was small? Had he really done something so offensive to God that this is what he deserved? "By your leave, Commodore." Norrington nodded at the marine, and turned his attention back to Aldebury. "You are indeed, within your rights to refuse treatment, however it is not always the wisest of decisions. Keep that in mind," Despite Norrington's harsh tone, and dissaproval within the statement, he was in his own way, trying his best to look out for the welfare of the officers below him. Some commanders could do it with humour--certainly Norrington had remembered a Captain who had done such, but it was one quality, that he had a hard time gaining a knack for. "Since you are determined to stay here and see to your men, perhaps you could also give me a slightly more detailed description of what happened, and the damage that the Falcon has endured. She sailed here, so I am going to assume she is salvagable, but I need some idea of how much she is going to need...refitting...the damage..." he stopped to rub at his temples, "Actually, I'm not entirely sure that you even mentioned who it was you were involved in battle with. That would be good to hear." He looked at the Falcon. Oh, dear God, he was doomed. Another person's command or not this was three devastating defeats within the time span of two and a half months--the attack on Port Royale by the Black Pearl and Barbossa, the attack by the mercenary ship and the French Pirate vessel, and now this, and to top all of it off, a pirate who escaped the gallows and was still free gallivanting about the Spanish Main. If all that didn't convince the Admiralty to stip him of his colours, and put him to a court martial for sheer ineptitude as an officer...then they would be quite insane. There had to be some way convince them that this was all rotten luck, and to be able to gain a quick decisive victory somewhere, and somehow, so that much of this could be overlooked. There had to be. |
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| Brendan | 6 Apr 2007, 03:17 PM Post #7 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Brendan. "And that is..is certainly within your rights," the Commdore replied, somewhat hesitantly. He dismissed Forsythe with a nod and the marine officer was quick to make good his escape. Eager to return to the fort, or simply to be away from the obviously agitated Commodore? "You are indeed, within your rights to refuse treatment, however it is not always the wisest of decisions. Keep that in mind," the Commodore went on, his tone taking on a definite edge that had Alderbury suppressing a wince. "Since you are determined to stay here and see to your men, perhaps you could also give me a slightly more detailed description of what happened, and the damage that the Falcon has endured. She sailed here, so I am going to assume she is salvagable, but I need some idea of how much she is going to need...refitting...the damage..." here the Commodore stopped to rub at his temples. "Actually, I'm not entirely sure that you even mentioned who it was you were involved in battle with. That would be good to hear." How best to relate the humiliating tale? Alderbury glanced across the bay toward his beloved sloop, his expression almost grief-stricken. "We came across an unknown ship about a day's sail sou'west, sir. She was hailed and failed to heave to, and I gave the order to close with her. She," the lieutenant swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat. "She ran out her guns at our approach, sir. I'd wager she had two lower gun decks and cannon on her main deck. To be honest, sir, we made our approach with our own cannon run out." Taking a steadying breath, Alderbury glanced down at his shoes. The eyes of his boat-crew were upon his back and he knew they could hear every word. "Cannon fire was exchanged and we were dismasted in the first volley. The danger of being boarded became close, but I ordered the crew to make their own boarding attempt. We... suffered a good deal in that foolish attack. As you can see, sir," he added, brushing his fingers over the bulge under his coat. The heavy swath of bandages added two inches to his narrow waist, making it awkward to stand and sit. "Lieutenant Forsythe suffered the bad slash to his arm, which most likely will cost him the privilege of service. I should not have survived myself if not for him, sir. A bolder marine officer I've never met. And... I regret to report the loss of Midshipman Graham, as well." The tears were stinging behind his eyes but he did his best to keep his face blank. It was bad enough to return in such a poor way. He couldn't bear to bring any more shame upon his ship and crew by acting like a half-witted boy. He was already embarrassed enough. "What more do you care to know, sir?" Alderbury asked in a ragged voice, tearing his gaze away from the badly damaged sloop in the harbour. |
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| James Norrington | 24 Dec 2007, 06:09 PM Post #8 |
Norrington, James Norrington
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"What more do you care to know, sir?" "More than, no doubt, I will ask in good time," Norrington said, softly. He glanced again at the Falcon, "We have a lot of work to do to ensure that she is seaworthy again." He turned ready to head back the same way as Forsythe to the fort. The sooner he got back the sooner he could either just collapse, or start contemplating what exactly would have to be said the Admiral Lord Heyworth that would...save some of them. He'd be lucky if he only lost his position, he decided. He stopped and turned around, "Mr Alderbury," he said, "when you decide that you have suffered enough and recall that you need to see the surgeon," which had better be sooner than later, "you may send someone to put Reed in charge of this refit. He knows well what to do. I'll be sending down relief parties to assist with the Falcoln and to help with the wounded." There was something he was forgetting...but...what was that? The men. Oh yes--that! "Oh, and try to make sure that the men don't speak to any others. I think it would reflect best on everyone, if we were the ones to inform our superiors, and that Heyworth does not learn of this through idle chatter." (ooc- *gags* Horrible post, I know) |
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4:11 AM Jul 30
