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A Pulp Fiction in Naval Action

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A Pulp Fiction in Naval Action

Go to the PDF file below much better read

While playing NA-OW have you ever thought about what goes on when docked or the politics and stories behind the actual battles you take part in? What did the pirates do and say to petrified sailors on a tagged trade ship? There are countless real-life stories and NA incidents as well with an interesting backstory.

Here is a short collection of mine revolving around the Summer/Autumn time of 1808 while I was on holiday in Scotland with the daughter of the head of the Jamaica station James Dacres...

Unfortunately, I cannot display maps with drawings etc. due to memory restrictions. So, I will show the coordinates and descried routes as best as possible at the start of each story or chapter as required. May I suggest you read the Captain Norfolk nCook nav guide here and look at these other chart links...

http://forum.game-labs.net/topic/26960-guide-norfolk-ncook-using-a-map-charts-coal-to-get-around-the-caribbean/

https://na-map.netlify.com/

http://forum.game-labs.net/topic/8451-shrouded-recluses-map-with-accurate-coords/

@admin and the Dev’s have created a great world in which to have adventures. You the community then add to this world making a great game even better...

The stories interweave within each other covering all aspects of the Caribbean work. There is six in total and will post them all in a week or so rather than in one drop. Let me know what you think good bad or don’t give up the day job...

Thank you for reading

 

 

Martin.

a.k.a Norfolk nChance [ELITE]

Ps from time to time you might recognize a Character or two, this of course is purely coincidental

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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An Unplanned Exit...

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wNSHPQj0W8

Chapter I             An Unplanned Exit...

Midnight Mainstreet was silent with the light rain keeping everybody indoors. Jack & Danny’s Hardware corner store was suddenly the central focus as its first-floor window exploded outwards due to the black slave girl’s unplanned exit from the rented rooms above.

Gravity took hold, and she fell onto the fixed wooden awning above the shop. Its design was to keep rain off potential window-shopping customers not falling slaves. Head over heels or ass over tit she couldn’t control the fall off the low overhang. The ten-foot drop came to a sudden end with a thud and a splash of sludge the sound dampened by the continuing rain.

A Sharp stinging pain from the left lower ribs, the white flashing stars showing the partial concussion still present. Slowly she turned on all fours blood pouring from a broken nose. Staggering back to life, she used a wooden railing to climb to her full six feet in height. Tears streaming down her face. Caused not by the physical pain from the three light fractures, broken nose, dislocated jaw, winded, glass cuts and bruising... no her heart and her soul just got completely ripped out...

It would take too long to run around to the side door climb the stairs back to the room to help. She screamed as hard and as loud as her lungs could but no sound came. Air was still completely missing from her lungs. Hyper venting, gaining back primal control slowly it came at last...

“Aaarrggghhh Nooo, Shia please no...”

Come on girl you need to get your shit together and quick... focus

Get moving, come on...Move you bitch, he’ll be coming soon enough. Come on, move...

She hobbled to the opposite side of the street holding the pain threshold in check not passing out. Tia closed in tight to the side of building wall then ducked low with a small turn she was gone disappearing into the safety of darkness and the night...

 

-o0o-

 

Chapter II            A Filthy Hole... Sale-Trou [270, 29]

Map Route [125, -3], [240, -3], [270, 29]

“Sir, we’re about one hour out from reaching PORT. The Sun will set before and I forecast another cloudy wet night...”

“Thank-you Captain, I want to dock quickly and off the harbor front ASAP and you get the hell out of here understood...?”

“Aye-aye Sir”

He returned to his exercise, the Latin Bible in his right hand he punched the spine into the internal wooden structure, 47... 48... 49... 50...

The Brig that morning left the rendezvous meeting [125, -3] to head due East on the [-3]-longitude line. The wind NNW and fair for September. With the only cargo a man or more correctly described a Priest the light Big could move very fast at 12.20knots this compared to other slower larger Frigates or the massive fleet ships. At about [240, -3] the Captain would change course NnE towards Sale-Trou [270, 29] the final destination. Normally a Brig would hug the coast line for safety from pirates but this was French enemy waters. Keeping further south and in open water during the days trip he’d keep out of the way of regular shipping and sight. He’d hope anyway...

Sale-Trou deserved its nickname of filthy hole, it was the main landing station for the slave ships for the island. Here they were assessed packaged and sold at the local auction to the plantation owners scattered throughout the island. The plantations for both Coffee and Sugar required about 40,000 slaves per year be landed at Sale-Trou.

Revolts often needed French troops Garrisoned at strategic places with support troops at hot spots to squash frequent uprising since 1804. The plan by the Priest was coming to fruition causing chaos not just on Santo Domingo but Martinique and finding the rich French owners running this trade. These plantations directly supported the Emperor Bonaparte war machine.

Apart from support troops to quash revolts, other means were used to very good effect. One was to infiltrate the slave rebels and execute them in a very horrific and public way. Voodoo was the perfect vehicle to scare the slaves into obedience. All the slaves would be forced to watch a ritual by witchdoctors and then the revolt ring leaders would be named in the ceremony. Brought out in Public and bled to death slowly. No magic involved, just sheer terror...

He’d caused and influenced some local disruptions forcing action by one such merchant. The Merchant should find a surprise battle just starting about now with the Royal Navy. The Priest knew the French owner would drop off his execution team into Sale-Trou then they would do what they do best...

He had a small window to intercept them. The background research took months of planning using all forms of people and organizations. It was a good thing he wasn’t religious in any way...

 

 

Chapter III           Mainstreet, Sale-Trou

A cross the street he looked through the spy glass into the Upstairs rooms above the Jack & Danny Hardware store. The store already closed up for the evening and the two targets had returned to the rooms already drinking away in the main room. The rain driving most people indoors, Midnight was the key...

He knew they’d celebrate pre-mission with a ritual piss up and marching powder was mandatory starting at midnight. He’d seen them do it twice before as routine. He looked at his pocket watch 30 minutes good time to get ready.

He straightened the black cowling lifting the hood over his head, holding the bible in his right hand. The 6’2 man checked himself in the mirror getting into character saying “carpe noctem, carpe noctem...” his lucky mantra said before any mission...

...The Jack & Danny Building’s side door entrance led to a fleet of wooden stairs to the first-floor rooms. Silence is the key and important; the stairs are an effective early warning system. Just stepping on them normally leads to the wood to flex and creek as its supported from the two sides that bends. When climbing stairs, one needs to carefully walk up the far left or right of the step this forcing the weight through the wood supports and no flexing occurs...

He stopped when is eyes were level with the first floor. He could see the light reflecting under the door and hear the girls singing and laughing. The shadows and rhythm he could picture or visualize each girls position in the room...

...visualizing ...three ...six ...nine ...the goose drank wine

                ... the monkey chewed tobacco on the street car line...

He was outside the door, right leg forward anchoring him. A deep breath, and his left leg kicked the door at the lock hinged point with a furious force...

 

 

Chapter IV          Bing, Bang, Boom... iko iko un-day

The living room bare, just the chalked-out pentacle enclosed in a circle drawn on the floor in the center with symbols and small piles of rice, rock, doubloons and a goat’s skull placed within the circles edge at different points of the five-pointed star. Both the six-foot-tall sisters drunk on red wine and high as kites laughing as the time approached the witching hour...

The rhythm beat stomp lift stomp-stomp clapping each other’s hands in time as they danced anti clock wise round the Pentacle just like the wind, singing-screeching in Haitian Creole Vodu...

...Three... six... nine..., the goose drank wine...

...The monkey chew tobacco on the street car line...

...The line broke, the monkey got choked...

...And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat...

...Clap-pat [Clap]... Clap ya hands [Clap-Clap] ... [Clap-Clap]

...Clap your partners hand again [Clap-pat] ... My Momma Told me, if I was goodie...

 

The door crashed open splinters filling the air... The spine of the Latin Bible thrust into Shia’s throat crushing her larynx. Tia’s mouth open was too shocked and slow to react as the left jab connected with the tip of her chin. The head forced with speed one way, brain stationary is slammed against the skull...

Suffering trauma from the overwhelming number of neurotransmitters firing at the same time causing an overload and system crash the Brain needs to shut down and reboot. Her eyes roll back and she started the slow fall like a cut down tree...

The Priest follows through with a low explosive side thrust kick hitting just above the hip and under the last rib. Tia is accelerated through the window, glass and frame forced outward as she starts her precipitous decline outside...

He turns and faces the other witch. She’s edged back against the wall using it for support. Crouching low in a defensive stance breathing hard through the nose. A Cornered wounded animal he’d need caution here. Drops the left shoulder in a faint and returns...

She follows with an involuntary movement revealing the dagger in her right hand. There it is... he thought to himself. Throws the Bible directly at her face, she needs to duck block or cover but her attention is on the book.

The left fist lands on the cheek eye and nose, she collapses back and slides down the wall unable to retain balance. The dagger falls clattering along the floor. The right fist connects with the nose and mouth breaking the bridge and several teeth.

He crouches down on the right knee with the left covering guard his vegetables. The left hand grabs her throat hard choking and pinning her against the wall. Both her hands clasp around his to little use. The right hand draws open the Ivory Handled switchblade cut throat razer. Cross cut above his fore finger, a swift slash on the right then the opposite left side of her throat. Between her legs he slashes the inside of her left thigh. One handed he folded the razer closed and returns it to the secret pocket in the back of his robe.

Her struggling not as strong as before, the fight taking its toll. The Priest speaks in a deep low voice.

“Please don’t take this personally Slave. It’s just a message I need to deliver to your master that his time is over in the Caribbean. I’m setting his Flag on fire... Iko Iko un-day”

Her eyes distance, and struggling ceased it was over. He stood wiping his blooded hands on her dress and walked to the broken window. He watched the other Black girl limping badly across the street down the side of the opposite building disappearing into the night.

He’d get her later, Saint-Marc [235, 76] was calling first...

-o0o-

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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The Old Admiral & the Sea...

 

Map Route [83, -3], [125, -3], [170, -3], [170, 20], [155, 38], [125, 43], [55, 33] or [70, 10 to 42, 21]  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSy9D3He6q0

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter I             Midwatch Two Bells, HMS Indefatigable

 

   

 

To,

 

  Great Britain [Western Fleet]:

 

  Fleet Admiral Norfolk nNimitz [ELITE] [Western Fleet]

 

  Vice Admiral Admin – Van Squadron

 

  Lt-Admiral Ink – Centre Squadron

 

  Rear Admiral Hethwill – Rear Squadron

 

   

 

Position, fleet rendezvous 1.00am 17th September in the year of our Lord 1808. South East of Port-Morant, Jamaica. Latitude 83, Longitude -3 From the shallow atolls Travel 40 miles due East 125, -3 and STOP.

 

 Expect a second dispatch of orders from an [EDARK] asset on arrival or via Vice Admiral James Dacres Commander-in-Chief. Jamaica Station.

 

   

 

 Good Luck, and fair Seas my Captains,

 

 

 

 

 

Great Britain Admiral of the Fleet Sir Peter Parker, 1st Baronet

 

  

 

 

Fleet Admiral Norfolk nNimitz or Fleet as a more popular nickname he’s known by, returned the dispatch letter to his satchel. Poured himself another large glass of French red, feeling for his Hunter-Case Silver Pocket watch lodged in his waist coat. It’s started early this time, the first minor handshakes and tremors of anxiety, pre-battle proving that the old man is not dead yet.

He closed the Silver lid, now 1.15am darkening his mood as the minutes rolled by... where the hell is he?  The heavy monsoon downpour could be heard outside rattling at the windows in pitch darkness on a moonless night. He wasn’t accustomed to the cramped cabin either, fidgeting and mumbling to himself...

You’re an old dog Fleet, you’re getting slow and fat... praying he turns up and doesn’t let you down. Fear never griped you before battle this much... he’ll be here by God or be damned

 

Why do I place so much faith in just one Captain...?

 

It’s because he irritates and yet drives men the same way as that dear friend did... yelling at you running across the Quarter Deck of the San Nicholas and then onward....

 

“move your ass Norfolk! I’ll wager my one good eye for your trollop of a wife I’ll be on the San Jose before you, Sykes, Thomo or Cookie ... the “old Agamemnon’s” he used to call us. How did we live through and survive that day... Ha ha ha?

 

My old friend has been dead now almost three years... I never believed him to be immortal, not just Legend either...

 

My earlier inspection of the Rear Squadron and its mortar brigs, fast frigates and lead ship HMS Indefatigable impressed no end. After some old salt swallowed the anchor giving the new Rear Admiral Hethwill his promotion. The hard work and his dedication to the group shows. He normally runs a smaller division of five mixed frigates called The Western Frigate Squadron [WFS].

The [WFS] orders are to patrol and support, sink French traders... The role runs not only in the Caribbean, but also the mid-Atlantic due to their speed. Giving direct support to the Glorious First of June hero Fleet Admiral Richard Howe, 1st Earl Howe [Atlantic Fleet].

Howe gave the [WFS] their nickname “Wolf-Pack” and it stuck ever since after they spotted a French 74-Gun Droits de L’Homme with the then pack leader Pellew back in ‘97. Just two frigates started in range of the heavier gunned French line ship. By the end the rest of the pack had caught up. And well, a reputation was born.

Two firm loud knocks on the cabin door broke Norfolk’s attention away from thoughts past and lifted his melancholiac sour mood.

“Enter...”

A sharp dark blue coat with white open facings, smart breeches with snow bright stockings marched towards his desk coming to an abrupt halt two paces from the Parisian furniture. The right hand sharp but not too fast raised without the palm showing in a perfect salute. The palm facing down, towards the shoulder. Forearm and hand a solid straight line. The golden epaulettes sat on the shoulders with just the one only silver star indicting it was Rear Admiral Hethwill Blue Flag.

It brought a proud adrenaline boost to Fleet. He rose from the captain’s chair, straightened his coat and returned the salute to the rank and then the man.

“Good Evening Admiral Norfolk nNimitz, I wish to report the arrival of the Van-Squadron. Also, Lt-Admiral Ink wishes to pay his respects and to inform that Centre-Squadron Crews are fully fed and most now resting.”

“Thank you Hethwill. Finally, they are here great news by God... Oh, and please call me Fleet...”

His mood lifted, the weight on his shoulders somewhat lighter. He collected the remaining papers and maps into his satchel. A spring in his step, energy flowing at the odds now in favor. And his fears of mortally recede for the time present.

“Hethwill you’ve impressed me with the state of readiness of Rear Squadron. It will be noted in my dispatches to Vice Admiral Dacres Commander-in-Chief. Jamaica Station ... Pellew left The Wolf-Pack in a safe pair of hands...”

“err- why err- thank you Adm... Fleet”

With the wine drained, it was time to depart the Indef. Never over stay one’s welcome not matter what rank...

“Right, let’s get this show on the road... Hethwill, call your XO and get my yacht ready to take me back to Flag...

...Send a note to Lt-Admiral Ink -Center Squadron, with Complements from Fleet. Good work and at five bells bring your XO to Flag...

.... Then a second note to, Vice Admiral Admin -Van Squadron, with Complements from Fleet...

Is this a fcuking hint you want a pocket-watch for Christmas? I have a case of ‘97 French red Saint-Joseph that needs finishing. Full Square’s for all Van Crew’s and SPLICE THE MAIN BRACE complements of Fleet, pass this along to the men please. Then get them rested. Five bells to Flag and bring your XO...

...now, my Wolf-Pack Admiral you Sir same deal, Full Squares, Grog and resting. Bring your XO as well at five Bells... you got all that...?”

“Aye aye Fleet...” with another snappy salute, one step back. He turned on heel, and marched out the cabin. All I could hear after that was yelling of orders and 350 Englishmen clambering all over this fabulous fighting frigate...

 

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter II            Midwatch Five Bells, The Flag

The Bell rang out its chimes echoing across the now flat millpond in the middle of nowhere. The rain ceased bringing a welcoming fresh cool breeze instead of the normal oppressive Caribbean humidity. No moon with a still cloudy sky gave the darkness a total pitch-black tone. Visibility was impossible at distance with lanterns unlit hiding The Western Fleet from passing vessels.

On his Fleet Flag HMS Victory, a 1st Rate line ship, Norfolk closed the Silver lid and returned the instrument to his waistcoat 2:30am. Standing alone at the stern on the Poop deck looking out across his command. The tremors and handshakes returned, irritated he slammed in anger his fist on the oak wooden rail.

“God Damn and Blast... “

He failed to see the approaching Officer marching then an abrupt halt and with a crisp salute holding firm like a stone statue. A Startled Norfolk jumped back flustered and mildly embarrassed showing weakness. In the darkness and failing eye sight he couldn’t make out who the officer was. He adjusted, straighten his coat, stance and posture. Fleet returned the salute to the rank.

“Good Morning Fleet Admiral Norfolk nNimitz, I wish to report my arrival and duties as your XO on the Flag ship HMS Victory Western Fleet.”

“Dru...? Drufus Kent is that you...?”

He couldn’t contain his joy with a big smile Norfolk offered out is right hand. Drufus took it in a firm grip and a warm smile.

“How you doing Fleet...? it’s good to see you again...”

“You tell me [ELITE]’s most senior [XO] that reads minds and lectures Admirals...”

Both men laughed out loud and relaxed they chatted leaning on the oak rail out of all ear shot. A few years back after the Atlantic campaign of ’94, Admiralty realized the Western Fleet needed to support or reinforce the Howe led Atlantic Fleet.

The larger Western Fleet sub-Divisions like [ARMED][SLRN][VCO] or [CKA] where not flexible enough to break off Caribbean operations at a moment’s notice. What was needed was a smaller highly trained bespoke Division that could respond at short notice with effective ALPHA. Norfolk nNimitz was tasked, forming [ELITE] with Drufus Kent as an XO and just five Captains.

With success and growth capped at just 10 Captain’s the Division became a highly effective team taking on much larger Battle Rated fleets. They were soon allocated the newly formed land based amphibious light infantry Corps of the Royal Navy, not British Army controlled or funded. The Corps was called The Royal Marines [RM] and a small unit would sail onboard with each [ELITE] ship.

Norfolk nNimitz success with [ELITE] brought promotion but also a recall to Admiralty and new assignments to follow. Drufus remained and settled in as [XO] becoming the small Division’s backbone. He served and instructed, possibly lectured its leaders well including the current one. This niche focus and tight team bonding created a more Cult type status compared to her peers.

 

“How’s the kid doing...? I need to ask”

“He’s absolutely fine, a real Cult Clan Leader. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree Fleet. He loves his Captains and crew and they him. Drilling home First Situational Awareness, then what’s the Ship Differentials and what’s my Forced Multiplier...? Just like you did back in ’95...”

“Good, good am glad. His mother God rest her soul would have been be proud... Right Dru, anything else to discuss before we go to my Day Cabin for the Operational Meeting?”

“Yes Sir, two things first all Squadron Leaders and their XOs are present. I instructed the Purser to open the Saint-Joseph and clear the main table... and secondly your younger Brother has also arrived. I introduced Norfolk nWay to the Officers but not who or what he does. I left him at your desk with his dispatches and papers.”

Both men adjusted their coats, straighten the posture saluted the rank. Then they walked together, Dru just slightly behind across the Poop and then the Quarter Deck to the Bow returning back towards the stern and cabins below.

 

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter III           The Great Cabin HMS Victory

Norfolk and Drufus walked into the Admiral’s day or Great Cabin. Immediately all talk stopped with six Officers stood to attention in their No.2 mess Dressed Uniforms. Dru peeled off and dropped into the Officers line. Norfolk busily shuffled with the satchel already part open headed towards the large mahogany table...

“At ease, at ease Gentleman. We’ve a lot to get through so wine, port and cheese at the back table feel free as and when. Let’s gather around the table and look at the first Maps now while I go have a quiet word with my dear brother...

... and remember the battle is always won before any Naval Action”

A spontaneous united chorus burst out in reply.... “Aye aye Fleet...”

Fleet greeted Norfolk nWay with a laugh and a hug at his desk. He was ten years the younger a Civilian dressed in a deep red full-length coat and white undershirt. A tall man at 6’2 starting to show signs of greying hair a full dark beard with grey edges and a growing middle. A Fashionable man of business and commerce.

“Good morning, Nimmy. You look -err well you’ve aged since we last met. At Felicity’s funeral late, last year wasn’t it?”

“My little nWay, it looks like you’ve been living well and a man about town so I hear... Yes-yes, it still burns me her passing. We agreed on our first day of marriage all them years ago, I would leave her a widow and a good Navy Captains pension... we agreed Brother, she broke her promise

...now what do you have for me?”   

“The second dispatch from Dacres at the Jamaica Station, also my analysis report. Dacres agreed with my assessment and Parker in London gave it the go. He gave you the Go... Look Nimmy this is not going to be a walk in the park...”

Fleet raised his hand cutting off Norfolk nWay mid-sentence.

“I know, look we need to press on time is short. I’ll open the SitRep discussion explain who you are and give you the floor to start then I’ll take over. Remember some of these six men won’t be alive tomorrow and they know it. England expects like my friend said...

...and they’ll do it... So, let’s give these young Officers some respect in return. We give them all the information it’s not a need to know...” Now it was nWay’s turn to hold his hands up, but more in defeat or surrender than anything else.  

“Don’t you want to read the dispatch plan and my analysis report first?”

“My dear little Brother you’ve still much to learn, my mind is set and heart is strong. What more do I need? Come on let’s get some good wine drunk and tell me about your friend Richard Wellesley. What on earth is [EDARK] doing with the East India Company...?”  

They walked to the back table. Filling their glasses with the Saint-Joseph nWay still shaking his head in comic disbelief. “Nimmy how the hell in God’s name do you know about that? Look EIC pays just as well as Admiralty...”

Laughing Fleet walked to the head of center table now covered in charts and what nots.

  “Gentlemen shall we get started...?”

Just then Admin handed him a full glass of red. God, the man can now read minds can’t tell the time, but reads minds. Is there no end to his talents? Admin stood arms folded with pride and a smirk in silence ready to watch Fleet perform once more. He’d known no other who could put on this magic show, that most outsiders don’t understand or realize its importance... Fleet Admiral Norfolk nNimitz raised his glass in the air... 

“For England, and God save King George...”

“The King...”  the loud rapturous reply came instantly back, and stamping of feet demanding more...

The men needed this more than I, making them brothers for the rest of their short lives that remain. He just had to play to the crowd feeling the love and emotion over whelming for them and the Navy bringing a tiny tear to his eye. He raised he glass high once more...  

“To my dear departed friend, and our Patent Bridge Race...”

“His old Agamemnon’s...”  a union of a firm loud somber tone filled the cabin. No stamping or laughing... 

He slowly raised his glass one last time playing to the captured audience...

“Now to the last but by no means least, a Toast to our Wives and Sweethearts...” Another huge high-octane spontaneous chorus burst out “...and may they never meet...”

 

Still causing him to smile after all these years.  Admin, Ink and the rest laughing out loud...

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

Chapter IV          Midwatch Six Bells, The Battle Plan

“Admiral of the fleet Sir Peter Parker has given his approval for this operation. Look at the map and the right end of the red line is our current position. At the start of the Morning Watch the Western Fleet will sail North East heading to the lower right side of the French held PORT of Tiburon. We need to keep below the blue line...

...with our three squadrons we’ll attack the stationed Fleet and sink, burn or take a prize the 25 Indiaman-class trade ships docked there. The trade winds are moving North West, building strength pitching more toward North-North-West today and tomorrow. It’s a smash and grab we will not take the port just raise it to the ground...

...I’ll hand over the next section to Norfolk nWay to give a macro picture of our situation and what to expect there upon our arrival...”

Fleet Admiral Norfolk nNimitz was in his element feeling the adrenalin pump through his veins. He took a good swig from his glass his eye catching the grinning Admin. He knows Fleet’s ego well and that mind firing on all levels was a pleasure to see the Old Admiral work. 

“First though, I think we owe you a debt for the courage you supply. So, it’s fitting you understand where and how we got this information. Admiralty realized sometime back that we needed more detailed information on local theatres of operations to reduce risk and increase the odds of success...

... my old friend always had with him aboard ship Rev Alexander Scott. He’d sneak him ashore and let him walk through the towns and villages gathering intelligence. This included talking to his Catholic clergy counterparts. Their vast next work carried back and forth information from the four corners of the Globe to Pope Pius VII in Rome. Admiralty needed to expand and exploit on this new concept. We are entering a new dimension in warfare Gentlemen...

... A Caribbean outpost of a British private company was setup called [EDARK] by Admiralty run by Norfolk nWay. This special operations sister Division to [ELITE] had a role to build intelligence solutions in all four corners of the Caribbean. Assets controlled by [EDARK] have now successfully placed within most major Nations...”

He knew his men might not like this new type of under handed warfare. Promising the whole story this needed to be told. He nodded to his brother stepping aside moving next to Admin to listen.  

“Thank you, Fleet... We believe there is a high probability the true Creole Spanish local people, will try to retake the Colony of Santo Domingo the eastern half of the island. Timeline is immediate so one to three months. Spain is ripping itself apart with civil war and its rolling over now into the Caribbean...

...The France/Spain strong alliance is crumbler-ling. The French army was destroyed in Russia so Boney is low on resources and moral. France here in the Caribbean, is thinking the same...

...The intelligence reports started to show a re-trench movement from Macao to El Soco all the way back to Tiburon the Haiti part or the French West side. This over the last two months.

If we the Royal Navy successfully struck a main local French fleet and supply ships now it could cause havoc to Boney in the region. No doubt it would inspire the Spanish to up rise within Santo Domingo but also in local French Haiti with no Battleships or support the tinder box of a slave uprising here also is quite possible.

This one strike now could be the tipping point needed in the Caribbean with France unable to send support...”

Norfolk nWay laid down a file with “for your eyes only...” stamped in red across the titled “New L’Ocean Unsinkable-class” on the table and turned with a quick nod to Nimmy giving him the floor...

“Fleet, my I request the use of your ready room to shave and change before I depart on to my Brig...?”

“of course, my man just through that door there, the Purser will supply hot water etc...”

The tall bearded man with case in hand, and sporting his red jacket and top hat left the room without another word.

 

-o0o-  

    

Chapter V            Ready Room

His clothes laid out neat on the chair and chez lounge with a quick wash as best as could be mustered. Taking out his short scissors he started to clip the full beard. Next the Ivory handle Switch Blade cut throat razer he sharpened on the Strop...

He started to get into character holding the leather Latin bible in hand saying to himself... “carpe noctem, carpe noctem...”

Next door, Hethwell twisting and turning to read the file left by nWay with as much subtlety as Josephine’s infidelity.... “Admiral Hethwill, please hand me the big red leather book on the shelf behind thee before you do yourself a mischief...”

Hethwill looking along the bookshelf saw the large King James Bible size red book with the title “Fleet Commanders Companion [FCC]” emblazoned on the front and sides, the Bible also notably missing. “Here you go Sir...”

“No boy, my eyes tire at this time. Go through the chapters find Ships and then the L’Ocean...”

The book was a Bible of sorts but more for the Captain than the God-fearing man of the age. Fleet Tactics, Ships, Campaigns and Battles to list just some of the chapters. He found ships then L’Ocean with a couple of pages of detailed information.

“Notice how she is named in conjunction with the 74-Gun Temeraire-Class ship Gentlemen, similar to our own HMS Bellona. These two ships when combined together gain several more abilities than alone. So be warned...

...Hethwill, please read the Norfolk nWay [EDARK] file out for us all and then add it to the FCC pages for future reference...”

 

Finding one single page only he read it to himself first, New L’Ocean class build (Credit Agricole Shipyards) now even heavier with little roll. She doesn’t suffer leaks and can take more punishment than ever before. Venerable still the stern, needs Temeraire cover also. Attack recommends “Doubling” then boarding...

At Tiburon expect eight to ten L’Ocean-class with four Temeraire support.

Before reading out loud he starts energetically to flick back and forth through the red book TACTICS, Battle Strategy, Tactical Fleet Command... looking searching for doubling... Ink about to speak but Fleet just raised his hand slightly subtle even just off the table. Stopping Ink’s protest and allowing the lads brain to work, search and think without speaking...

“I’ve got it, I think I know what’s needed Fleet...”

A laughing and a coo-ing from the old salts jeered and cheered the young Admiral along... “Come on then tell us Admiral Hethwill” Fleet receding the floor to the young Captain. The smiling but red-faced new Admiral walked to the center of the table.

“Ok, ok... OK we’ll have the wind NNW and Van-Squadron needs to drive up and at ‘em then just before contact pulls away North. This pulling the defense fleet with him (Admin) or at least the 74s. The Center Squadron goes straight at them this time...

...Admiral Ink goes in and behind raking their main defensive line. HMS Victory stands off waiting to support either Van or Center as needed. The three Mortar Brigs in my squadron knock out the towers and fort to aid Centre Squadron.

...The battlefield will tend to drift NW and away from the port with Admin and Ink “Doubling...” into the defensive line maybe with some sterns showing to Center squad...

...An Open wedge now forms between Defensive line and harbor thus allowing the Trade ships maybe to make a run for it. The wind though only allows for La Navasse or follow the battle ahead. My Wolf-Packs drop on the trade ships even though we are outnumbered the supply fleet don’t stand a chance...

...The continued Doubling on the L’Ocean’s and with the NNW driving them more towards shore or they can turn West into Admin but leave their sterns open for Ink... There fish in a Barrel Sir...”

“Well let’s say sharks with big teeth in a barrel, but very good Hethwill. Any questions...?” With that one loud knock from the Ready Room door shifted everyone’s attention away from the table. “Enter...” said the Old Admiral

The 6’2 man now dressed in a black cowl hooded Priests robe with a white rope belt holding a Latin bible.  His hair tied back and beard now in a neat penciled goatee fashion placed him a European man of the cloth. Spanish or Italian looking...

The Officers stood a gash open mouthed at the transformation. Fleet closed in and took his brothers hand “Were to now my little Brother, it looks dangerous...?”

“Sale-Trou first then north to Saint-Marc maybe to cause chaos and mayhem hoping to inspire freedom in some of Gods children also to deliver a message. You take care Nimmy these ships these L’Ocean’s....”

“I know brother, let Dru take you to your Brig and God’s speed...” Both men laughing as Dru walked the priest from the Cabin to his awaiting Brig.

Fleet slammed his hand down on the table looking directly at Ink...

“Never mind the maneuvers Ink, just go straight at ‘em. You clear?” the response so cold so clear “Straight to the gates of hell Fleet, Aye aye Sir.”

“...Whichever way they go Double or rake them to back to hell....

...Any other questions Gentlemen...?”

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

Chapter VI          Morning Watch, One Bell, Quarter Deck HMS Victory

...He is Fleet...

 

He walked back and forth with Dru just behind. Sun just starting to rise. The ships all a sail moving towards battle. The men hard at work, singing a chant to help them along. The Officers ignore this as it keeps their minds focused and off what’s to come...

...We are Fleet...

 

Fleet looked confused trying to listen to the rhythmic beat

...His Ole Eggs N Bacon...

 

“Dru what are the men singing about...?

...He is Fleet...  ...We are Fleet... ... His Ole Eggs n Bacon...

 

 “Sir, what do you mean?

“The men what are they singing about...”

Drufus Kent[ELITE] stood and laughed out loud in front of his old Admiral “I have no idea Admiral Norfolk Nimitz...” Lying through his teeth

...He is Fleet...

 

 

            ...We are Fleet...

 

 

                        ... His Ole Eggs n Bacon...  

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

Epilogue              Kingston/Port Royal

Norfolk nChance walked down from his lodgings on the hillside towards town, his R&R nearly over. The view of the Carlisle Bay and the Kingston/Port Royal shipping channel always busy both day and night insight. The overnight downpour left the green flora and fauna with a lush cut grass smell.  

“Read all about it...read all about it...”

 

His approach grew closer so too did the volume in chatter and more pungent smells any working harbor has.

“Read all about it... The Jeheil Times... read all about it...”

 

Just coming onto the harbor front seeing witness to the drunk leaving the Red Lion in an argument. He continued his walk towards the Harbormasters Cabin.

 “British Success at the French PORT of Tiburon... Read all about it...”

 

He walked over to the kid stood on an upturned barrel with half a dozen broadsheets across his arm. Norfolk flick a coin into the cap on the floor which looked like business was doing well for the boy. He handed him a broadsheet... “Thank-yee Captain...” 

 

Norfolk nChance froze on the stop as the headline jumped off the page at him...

British Success at the French Port of Tiburon comes with the loss of a fleet legend. The heavy cost of this Naval Action...

 

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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The French Merchant Admiral and some sympathy for the Devil...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lM4dBQrLC8

Map [771, -140]

https://www.loc.gov/item/2010593374/

 

 

Chapter I             Chocolate Voodoo

He sat twiddling the small brass totem of Ganesha the Hindu elephant God in his left hand. Its meaning from a Sanskrit compound ‘Gana...’ a group or multitude and ‘isha...’ meaning Lord or Master. A fitting title for the richest man and largest employer in Fort-Royale if not the whole Caribbean Monsieur Jean Ribault.

The rich man was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders with a worried frown looking at the ‘in’ file of papers on his desk never seeming to shrink. He stood, stretched and walked out onto his first-floor balcony. The Mansion painted a brilliant white and opulent as you might expect. It sat on the hill overlooking the Fort-de-France Bay on the main road to St. Mary.

The night breeze blew into the busy Bay and cooling the Mansion from the days heat. A large storm was brewing out at sea on its way to Jamaica, the fork lighting visible across miles of vast ocean. He sat on the edge of the stone veranda and lit his clay pipe.

His family ran a merchant business in Bourgogne. It expanded into all areas of cottage industries. Then lending money to struggling farmers and wine growers from Champagne to Aquitaine. The now Merchant Bank was called Credit Agricole. With no need to move into Paris the family name avoided persecution when revolution struck.

Jean’s father ever the trader played politics well, sending the young boy to École spéciale militaire de Saint-Cyr, and then onto École Navale. He wanted his son to expand the family business in the Caribbean with prospects of Sugar Cane, rum, fruit and cacao.

Twenty years later Jean with a thinning hair line and on set of middle age showing, had built up this place from nothing, even the Governor called him Sir. He now controlled a private Navy nearly equal to that of the French here which was needed to protect Credit Agricole Indiaman-class trade ships from the British Wolf-Packs. Louis Thomas Villaret de Joyeuse the Governor was a Rear Admiral himself, Jean needed to see tomorrow as well. The grandfather clock chimed indicating 9pm bringing him back from his thoughts...

Two six-foot identical twin black slave girls walked into the first-floor office barefoot to do their masters bidding. White full-length shire smocks offset their milk chocolate satin skin, messy afro hair and voodoo tattoos covering all aspects of body part.

Tia Dalma spoke in a cheeky girlish creole accented pigeon.... “Mèt Mèt Sir Boss, ou pare yo pram 'yor’ cruzin we de Dalma girlz quick quick speedy lar...” This while the other sister was preparing on the center table the latest export to the Fashion-conscious Parisian.

Shia Dalma had made three perfect white powdered lines each three inches in length on the priceless French furniture... “Yay a Boss man... yo pare Marching Powder sniff sniff bang bang... yor like chocolate mister mister...”

11:45pm walking out of the mansion he was late, but fcuk was it worth it. Laughing to himself climbing into his horse and carriage to take him into the town center...

-o0o-

 

Chapter II            A Wraith’s Warning... 

The center of the port town was noisy and rowdy with bars and whore houses open for trade.  Le Copper Bay Tavern set back off the main drag was quieter and more secluded affair. Dark, only candle lit with a small string band playing an improv set as Jean walked in through the back-door entrance.

He stood then leaned on the bar at the very end looking for his connection. The Barkeep knew him but didn’t shout his name just brought over a new bottle of red Saint-Joseph and two mugs adding the bill to his tab. Wraith appeared from the back entrance also out of the darkness.

A wiry tall skinny man, dark hair with beard and deep-set eyes topped off with a worn leather Tri-corn black hat. He wore a three-quarter length deep blood red Bridge Coat open. Black leather trousers and black shirt. Quick check showed at least three knives and one flintlock pistol about the person.

Jean stepped back with a start not noticing his arrival...

“On my word Wraith you startled me. I must apologize for my late tardiness, but please tell me why [VSCO] has sent the Monkey and not the Organ Grinder...?”

Wraith’s cheeks turned red and scowl appeared across the face as his blood boiled at the insult.

“You brought the Gold you French Cunt...?” he snarled in a Scottish accent.

The hand from behind light as a feather and as fast as sin came over Wraith’s right shoulder placing the blade gently onto the left side of his neck. The left-hand palm opens just pushes into his lower back, the pressure forcing him ever forward on to the blade.

This was Shia’s favorite weapon, the Fairbairn-Sykes double-edged dagger. The design an 11.5-inch-long black weapon with a 7-inch blade that tapered in. This stiletto slender style can easily penetrate a ribcage or pierce a heavy woolen Guards coat in one thrust.

She could feel Wraiths vibrations through her palm in his back, shocked and scared adrenalin must be flowing through his veins. Shia Dalma was in complete control of this man’s near future. However, this was only showing a force that exists not brandishing it...

No, this was total show only.  Normally she’d have thrust the knife into the right side of Wraith’s neck where the external Carotid right Artery sits pushing through to the left Carotid Artery. The vocal cords sit in between and are cut. This would cause major blood loss to the Brain as the jugular veins also removing blood from the organ. He couldn’t speak and would feel faint within moments. Losing consciousness within ten to fifteen seconds to bleed out silently in under a minute.

“Wraith now now language please. You have heard of the Dalma Slave sisters, right? On land they are rarely far from my side. Now let’s sit in the far cubicle discuss business, drink wine and talk women...”

On Wraith’s right, the face of Tia Delma came into view out of the darkness. She puckered up her lush ruby lips and gently kissed Wraith on his cheek...

 “Now-now my little bèl dyab. Shia epi m ap manje ou si ou mank respè Monsieur Ribault...”

With that the face, knife and the pressure in his back returned to the shadows leaving Wraith dripping in sweat. Composing himself shaking off the chill he followed Monsieur Ribault to sit opposite in the cubicle. He took a long drink from the tankard his heart just coming under control.

“What did that witch say Monsieur Ribault...?”

“Hahaha something like you little devil, if you disrespect me again her and Shia will eat you alive... now to business where is Chris...?” Jean dropped a heavy leather purse on the table. Wraith in one clean movement had remove it from sight with his deft touch.

“He’s trying to get more details and had to remain in position. We think you’ve got real trouble heading your way...

...two days ago, a Royal Navy Three Star Fleet Admiral was smuggled into Kingston/Port Royal... He’s a Red Flag top draw sort, names Fleet Admiral Norfolk nNimitz...”

Jean held his hand up stopping Wraith mid-sentence thinking, racking his brain why did he know that name?

“Yeah-yeah he’s got a son here runs a small British division [ELITE]. He’s just visiting his son I think Belize Yucatan way...”

“No sorry Ribault, this is why Chris needed to remain in position and get more information. Turns out Norfolk nChance, the Son is on R&R in Scotland with James Dacres daughter. The Commander in Chief of the Jamaica Station... He’s not even in the Caribbean...”

“fcuk, so what’s Norfolk nNimitz doing here...?” he half said to himself...

“Exactly, Chris wanted to warn you first. Admiral Nimitz is here to use the Royal Navy WESTERN FLEET so Chris started tracking down where the squadron leaders’ last local positions were...”

He dropped another leather purse on the table surprising Wraith but not enough for him to miss palming it away in style. “That’s good work [VSCO] you pay the best to get the best. I can tell you where that prick Hethwill is, Puerto Rico trying to tag my Indiaman-Trade ships with his Wolf-Packs. I want Chris to go crucify that piece of shit...

...oh, and tell me how or who smuggled nNimitz into K/PR...?”

Wraith wouldn’t make eye contact shifting in his seat nervously, instead focusing on draining the tankard. History coming back to haunt VSCO, Credit Agricole and Monsieur Jean Ribault.   

“It was... Nick... Nick... Nick the Cursed and the [BLACK] privateers...”

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter III           Tuesday: Credit Agricole [CAC] Meeting Preparation

Destraex was Monsieur Jean Ribault’s assistant, number two, XO, right arm etc. He turned Jean’s words into actions. Today 7:30am he was prepping the morning meeting they’ll have before the Tuesday tour round the Docks with the usual afternoon 3pm with the Martinique Governor Louis Thomas Villaret de Joyeuse or Villaret for ease. 

The Credit Agricole Caribbean [CAC] structure was large and complex, good planning years before it grew helped in its expansion and dominance of the area. Tight routines helped manage this vast out post of the French Merchant Bank. Destraex driving much of the working day to day mechanics. Nearly twenty years in Ribault’s service he became a very rich man indeed as well.

The first floor was the main offices of [CAC] in the Ribault Mansion, he needed to clean up the main table first removing clothing, wine bottles and white powder. This means the Boss will have a hangover and in a bad mood probably...

The large local map of Fort-Royal was laid out. To the left of the town the FORT Saint-Louis and armory behind. A smaller FORT sat on the opposite side of the Bay. Then the town center, as we move into the BAY and Cul-de-Sac ROYAL with the Ribault Mansion sat high on the St. Mary main road. The right of the town the docks for unloading and loading on “Free-Point” shared between trade, French Military and [CAC] trade ships.

Going North East, the COHE Cul-de-Sac had the main [CAC] Warehouses with the [CAC] Shipyard complex at the Chime River outlet. The shallow bay was perfect for shipwrights. Buying the land to build storage sites around and above the docks allowed easy access from ship to warehouse and vice versa. Other Companies having to use the other Vache Bay for storage sites. The compacted location of the Warehouses meant goods from the island’s plantations La Trinite, Saint-Pierre or Le Marin came all to the same location for export quickly. This efficiency not replicated as well on the other island sites further North.

Opposite bank of the COHE bay was the vast French Navy Shipyard Iron works and Armory complex. The Barracks sat on the outskirts of the town Lamentin also. This inadvertently meant the French military to offered close protection to [CAC] main hub if in the event of a revolt or invasion.

The far door opened and the cleaned shaven bald Managing Director walked in, brow-wrinkled with a continuous thoughtful squint.

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter IV          Tuesday: [CAC] Morning Meeting

...Good Morning Monsieur Destraex, what’s important for this local Tuesday meeting...

He did look tired, no more than usual though. Average height he wore like Destraex a black three-quarter coat white shirt black trousers, the fashion for a man of business and commerce.

Morning Sir, usual stuff Warehouse inspection with the Clerks and head Store Keeper. Then a visit to the Yard complex and progress reports with the Master-Shipwright and the L’Ocean-XX progress. After lunch we’ll attend our afternoon 3pm with Governor Villaret.

“OK we may have trouble brewing. Cancel the Warehouse meetings get them to send me one-page reports instead. First the Shipyard and then I need an update of our current Battle Fleet locations, Trade ships in and outbound due in the next month. Then the latest hotspots brewing... riots trouble anything... Speak to the bank, current cash with near term liabilities... and a quick liquidation of CA assets... Acid Test...

... also look in the [FCC] Fleet Commanders Companion, Royal Navy Fleet Admiral Norfolk Nimitz fact sheet... and my second shave before we meet the Governor please”

OK Sir, anything I need to know? ...  Yes, but I’ll Brief you in the carriage on the way to the Shipyard, 20 minutes we leave ok?

Aye-aye Sir...

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter V            [CAC] Shipyard Complex, Cohe-Bay

The Credit Agricole Shipyard complex was run by Lazare Carnot a brilliant organizer of logistics and project planning. He in the functional and plain third floor shipyard meeting room sat next to Jacques-Noël Sane the chief designer for [CAC] ships. Opposite the two Senior Directors in for the Tuesday visit drinking coffee both mumbling to each other with worried frowns ...

Sane, rather cheekily was headhunted from the French Navy a few years back by Destraex to go to the private sector side of ship design. Seeing his brilliant design on the 74-gun Temeraire class, he was a “must have...” according to Destraex. [CAC] needed him to redesign a couple of Trade ships, an LGV-class conversion for a whale hunting project idea and an Indiaman-class re-work to fit more slaves into the cargo hold without weakening the super structure...

In 1785, Sane designed for the French Navy the Ocean-class ship of the line. A massive 118-gun three decker, displacing over 5,000 tons. The ship-class was even larger than the Spanish Santisima Trinidad flag ship. His current project was to deliver with Carnot 10x improved designed [CAC] L’Ocean-XX class. Nicknamed the “Unsinkable-Class”. Five of the new ships were ear marked for the French Navy. Ribault getting a good price from the Navy would reduce his 5x Ocean construction cost by 40%.

Ribault stood, stretched and with a small yawn picked up the coffee. He walked around the room to look out of the large window over looking the yard and the Bay further out, this as Carnot ran numbers with Destraex.  

The [CAC] yard was a grade III listed with drydock, storage and warehouse. A very busy yard indeed with several Ocean-XXs completed sat anchored in the Bay while two others both under construction still in the docks. What was noticeably was the vast French Navy Shipyard complex very visible on this bright sunny Tuesday. He laughed to himself...

“Destraex, have you a second to look at this please?” the three men looked at Ribault, the Shipyard men worried he’d spotted some major flaw and a bollock-ing was due... “Sure Jean...”

“Look out of the window and describe what you see... Carnot and Sane as well come tell me what you see...” a bollock-ing was defiantly coming the men thinking to themselves... All three describes more or less the same thing a very busy shipyard efficient and productive... “You’re missing it, look at the Navy Complex...”

The French Navy Complex was at a base level three times the size of [CAC]s. All Graded III with the ability to have six ship of the lines under construction or re-fit at anyone time. The supporting infrastructure of iron workshops and armory made it second to none outside France with only the Brest Shipyard Complex larger in scale.

“Well, its not busy...” replied Sane

“It’s not busy Sane, its fcuking dead...     ...Destraex we’re can’t rely on the Mother land for support; the yards should be working which costs Francs. They’re saving cash running a go slow right in the middle of a fcuking war. I bet they probably can’t afford to pay for the 5x Ocean-XXs...”

The men took a trip down to the actual yard to see the final two Ocean’s under work... Three weeks to full complication was Carnot’s guide. Outside the yard whole external cottage businesses sprang up to cater for the well-paid yard workers, like taverns or whore houses or... He’d seen him before somewhere...

Three workmen on a break sat on barrels drinking and listening to a tall Priest lecturing to them about God knows what or just God. His height noticeable Spanish-Italian looking...

“Jean, we need to go. Get changed you shaved for the 3pm with the Governor...”

Ribault, couldn’t place him so moved on climbing into the carriage for the next meeting...

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter VI          3pm Governor Villaret Meeting 

The Horse and Carriage pulled into the large white plain looking Government House drive way stopping outside the covered entrance. Two Old Guard Guards stood to attention outside as a freshly shaved Jean and Destraex both all in black with black tall hats and canes walk pasted the heavy mustaches of the Emperors Finest. 

The Saint-Joseph already decentered in Vallaret’s overly large office the main table cleared. The chimes of the very expensive carriage clock rang three bells and the door immediately knocked and opened. The two men walked in straight to the table...

“Good afternoon Gentlemen, some Saint-Joseph perhaps...?”

“Vallarat, why are the Navy yards on a go slow? You’ve no fcuking money, have you...?

...we’ve got a problem, a big problem...” He goes on to explain Wraith’s information of the Admiral Nimitz arrival. Not seeing the threat at all just a whiny trader losing a few francs everybody is on a tight budget... “Come-on Jean why the panic over one man’s visit to K/PR, what’s the problem?”

“Look, the relentless attacks by that prick Hethwill and the Wolf-Packs are hurting the bottom line. The Slave rioting that flares up at exactly the right time in the furthest possible place stretching our resources to the limits... Then we find a Red Flag three-star Royal Navy Admiral arrives...

This points to a full blown combined [Western] attack on something that’ll hurt...”

Destraex pipes in... “Look Governor I did agree with you on this, but looking at the timing of slave up rising and the successful coordinated attacks on our relief support ships is not by chance or just bad luck. It’s too consistent...

...Our Plantations around San Juan in Puerto Rico flare up. We send our closest support from Macao at Santo Domingo and guess what the Wolf-Packs are waiting for us... Not chasing, but lying in wait... This has happened in our own backyard of Saint-Pierre while most of our home forces are helping with the Port-Louis issue on Grande-Terre...”

Re-filling his guests’ glasses pondering the issue as it sinks in... “We’ve a spy or leak or you have Jean...?”

Destraex continues with Ribault remaining silent. “I don’t think it’s internal but our ship movements are being watched and targeted or manipulated...”

“Is our wonderful Emperor ever going to send some more support or do we start asking for a tax rebate against the amount of [CAC] trade and war ship we are losing...?” Ribault interrupts... “In fact, what if we hold back on delivery of the L’Ocean-XX class ships and keep them for ourselves. Is he going to pay for them...?”

“You wouldn’t dare, our Navy needs them ships as soon as possible... He’d have your head if he thought you’d do that” Destraex needed to break the rising tension before Ribault pushes his luck too far. “Jean, why not tell Villaret where you think the next attacks or flare ups will be...?

...what you said in the carriage on the way over makes sense...”

Ribault shaking his head thinking what’s the point...

“The next slave delivery is due at Sale-Trou [271, 30] within the next two months, this is open information. I believe there will be at least two to three big flare ups (slave revolts) here or at Dominica [752, -93] or the Terre islands [744, -81k]. We’d be forced to keep our ships here at Fort-Royal and not re-supply Macao [425, 50] with its current depleted reverses...

...Then as the approaching slave convey appears the Wolf-Packs will attack unopposed. Great Britain is very good at getting other people to fight her battles and die in her cause. She is very risk averse. Risking a Full Fleet attack on Fort-Royal will leave them over exposed if it fails. No way... They will however make it look like all hell will break loose down here to keep us locked in...

...The Western Fleet will attack closer to home. Port-au-Prince [249, 50] or Santo Domingo [363, 45] are good targets. Unsupported the whole island will fall into British hands or mob rule, but we our out no income at all. From there Puerto Rico will fall and we’ll be dead within months at FORT-ROYALE the Capital is lost...”

Vallaret somewhat ashen faced flopped into a chair on the side wall understanding the problem... the penny dropping... We’d be bankrupt inside months, the Capital lost. I doubt the Emperor would welcome me back with open arms saying we all make mistakes... I’m for the chop...

“What do you want Jean... You have a plan...?”

“With immediate haste I wish take a heavy Battle fleet North with supply trade ships. We’ll re-supply Ponce [512, 34]. When the Trade ships arrive, they’ll support them into Sale-Trou [271, 30]. Macao [425, 60] we’ll retrench assets we have left there into the fleet then move to EL Soco [394, 44] same thing we retrench assets. We leave Santo Domingo Port as is though...

... the fleet moves towards Sale-Trou and I’ll drop off the Girls. They’ll start digging around and are there if anything flares up. The entire fleet moves to Tiburon [156, 39] and waits...

Which ever way the Western Fleet goes (Prince or Santo) we want to follow and cut them off from a K/PR return. Cutting their route home will break them from behind...”

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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Pirates, Privateers and their Ridiculous Names...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl6fyhZ0G5E

 

You Get What You Give...

 

 

 

Chapter I             Somewhere Near Barbados - East...

Midnight on a fair sea off the East coast of Barbados the fast-small warship speeds along with the wind, towards her meeting point. The two mast-ed Square Rigged vessel complemented by a trysail-mast immediately abaft or behind the main mast indicated she was a Snow-class warship. The Wound had a pointed bow that gave her great flexibility in turn rate speed and application of movement, but would be prone to roll or pitch on a moment’s notice...

Holding with one hand onto the Forestay and one foot on the pointed bow the small looking bald Captain with a long black beard blowing in the wind, scoured the horizon for his connection. The two tromoblon short range blunder buster guns always present strapped across his chest. Also present was his ever-persistent thirst...

“Dog... Dog... Dog-man bring me some rum am parched up here... also switch flags now and put up the JACK...” he bellowed with a layman’s French accented English to his XO. His right hand rested on the head of a short carpenter’s axe in his side belt loophole. Carpentry ran in the man’s blood from his father and his father’s father business in Northern France. He was good at woodwork, but this axe was a weapon primary rather than an honest man’s tool of labor....

The large Union Jack flew aloft, as he drank deeply from the bottle of rum. The one hundred plus crew were totally loyal to this Pirate or Privateer or Outlaw whichever name you wish to categorize him in. No one really knew the true story behind his name Nick the Cursed, but speculation was always listened too...

Some pointed to his alcoholism, never able to quench his thirst he’ll drink rum morning noon and night. This can lead to a particularly post heavy session of Nick coming up with some hair brained dangerous scheme to get rich that’ll probably end in a reduction of the crew size from death... this is the curse some say...

Some point to the stigmata on his wrists and feet he doesn’t like people to see but rubs at when nervous. Even in his middle age they still bleed from time to time and his gate more a wobble suited for sea legs rather than a runner shows the pain he must feel just by walking sometimes.

The lanterns lit up all at once brought the Flag line ship’s position in to view, then they were immediately doused pushing her back into total darkness. The Wound adjusted and headed towards the massive ship. Nick needn’t need any more time to tell which ship he was meeting a very famous one indeed. The HMS Victory...

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter II            HMS Victory, The Wound rendezvous [794, 794] …

“Howe, these are my dispatches for Parker in London. When signaled have Victory delivered to me at Port Morant, Jamaica and I’ll pull in Drufus Kent from [ELITE] to be my OX. He knows the local waters and me so keep the rest of the crew as is...”

“Aye-aye Fleet good luck Sir, you’re travelling chest is aboard The Wound, the Captain asked to take some of our rum stores as well, the pirate... He said make sure he gets his LGV...?”

“Yeah that’s Nick alright, that’s all-in order as well...”

Fleet saluted Lord Howe shook his hand and made his way down the rope ladder to The Wound. His full black over coat disguised his rank but the atmosphere surrounding him showed his importance in spades. Nick led the Guest to his cabin without a salute or word.

“Dog, once all the rum is stored away make sail SSW heading Nassau [32, 349] ... then drop the JACK.”

“Aye-aye Nick”

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter III           The Wound, Captain’s Cabin...

The cramped damp dark cabin wasn’t Fleet’s normal size or taste but would have to do. He sat at the small table as Nick took off his two guns and opened a new bottle of Navy Rum and brought two semi clean silver tankards to the table to sit opposite.

Thank you, Captain, for giving up your cabin... Fleet opened with clinking cups in a salute with Nick as the boat/ship did a slight rock n roll... Please Admiral, call me Nick I insist and it’s an honor to have you on my humble ship... well then you must call me Fleet in return Nick....

I remember reading about you Fleet and the adventures you had in the Jeheil Times and The Gazette. To have you sitting in my cabin is a true honor Sir... Fleet, slightly blushed... Well it was all him you know, I just rode his coat tails...

Come on tell me what was he like, bulletproof?

Fleet laughed, he took an instant shine to this rough rogue...

“Far from it, in fact just before our patent bridge race on the quarter deck of HMS Captain a cannonball hit the deck. Sent me flying right and backwards. Nelson was to my left and blown off his feet backwards.  Captain Miller caught Nelson and both fell over... If Miller hadn’t have caught him he’d have gone over the side... Nelson gets up blood all over his abdomen from splinters. I yelled at him to get down to the surgeon. He then starts fcuking running at the San Nichols... and the “Move your ass Norfolk...” quote goes down in history...”

Both men laughing, Fleet noticed him rubbing the scares on his wrists... “So, want to tell the real story why you’re called Nick the Cursed...?”

Nick was drunk and in ore of the admiral in his cabin, he couldn’t refuse but didn’t want to replay the horror of his past either... “OK Fleet, but I need to show you something first... give me your pistol hidden under your coat...” ...so much for that plan Howe...!

Nick took the small flintlock primed and loaded pistol. He stands and walks to the middle of the floor pistol in the right hand. “Fleet, now watch closely...” with that he cocks the hammer and puts the gun to his right temple. The ship pitches slightly as he pulls the trigger moving the barrel...

The hammer hits the flash pan causing the black powders ignition and the gasses accelerated the lead ball out of the barrel now offset from the temple. The bullet grazing along the forehead to imbed itself into the top left of the cabin’s ceiling.

“Good God man...” Fleet leaps from the chair in absolute horror... blood streaming down Nicks right forehead and cheek from a three-inch cut left. Dog bursts in with two Pistols primed and with crew support...

“It’s ok Dog...it’s ok... just showing our guest the Curse...”. Everyone relaxes and returns to their duties all apart from Fleet shaking. Thinking is it Nick the Cursed or Nick the fcuking Bonkers... Nick with his left-hand points to the top left cabin ceiling as he gives the gun back and wipes the blood from his brow cheek and chin...

Fleet can visibly see half a dozen other bullet holes within the same area... Nick re-fills both tankards.

“You ready to listen Fleet...?”

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter IV         

The heavy hand hammer struck the long iron nail once firm and true. It pierced through the left wrist and the Yard beam behind. He yelled a banshee scream unable to move being held down in place... The Hammer falls hitting true the second iron nail driving through the right wrist and yard beam behind, yelling in absolute agony...

His arms tied with rope keeping in position not allowing the Iron Nail to rip through the soft flesh of the hand. That was Wraith’s idea. The yard arm was hoisted up into place and nailed into an unmovable position locked. He could rest his feet on a small wooden plinth below.

His body as well as arms were now tied to the front mast and locked cross yard of the trade ship. Left foot on top of the right the other pirates held him in place. Chris takes the iron nail placing it on the top of the left foot. One clean strike of the hammer the nail punches through both left and right foot beyond into the wooden plinth below. Chris had done this many times before, the skill of just three strikes remarkable indeed... He’d also passed out by now...

He came too slowly confused and sunburnt, thirsty... Nailed or crucified on the front Mast and yardarm... the trade ship was at full sail... adrift... in the middle of an empty ocean...

-o0o-

 

Chapter V            Spreading the Gospel with the code

Imagine a strip of water [205, 154] south to [204, 128] this is just North of Saint-Nichols [203, 109]. Another strip East [435, 154] to [435, 128] this directly North of Macao. Connect the four coordinates up to form a rectangle. This strip runs West to East along the top of the Santo Domingo island.

It was agreed and allocated in Nassau by the code that this is the prime hunting ground for the [VSCO] privateers. All shipping is game within this box and other privateers should stay out. A percentage fee will go to Nassau for this shipping right. Other gangs have other water rights all over this Caribbean map.

Overtime certain stretches of water become known to be lethal for trade ships and they’ll avoid them. This could mean your prime stretch of sea becomes worthless after a few good captures. The worse the reputation a local pirate gang has would scare shipping into early surrender without any fight at all. The victims pleading mercy with an immediate surrender was worth them keeping their lives...

Chris wanted it known by all that this was VSCOs area. He needed a calling card like Blackbeard. He tied small candles into his beard setting them alight before a raid. The captured men terrified it was the devil himself was Blackbeard seeing the smoldering smoke from is head... It came to Chris in a cruel way to send a message perfectly...

The rectangle area of water would be known as his Christendom. He would kill all the trader ship’s crew apart from the fittest looking man. He would be nailed to the Mast and Yard arm crucifixion style by “Christ”. Wraith filled in the Log book time entry date and warnings... The ship with full sails, was then set adrift. The poor survivor had roughly three days max to find help on average. After a couple of trails and errors like needing to lock and fix or nail the yard arm in place to stop it moving they got the routine. The yardarm moving around tends to rip the arms out of the shoulder sockets of the survivor from the turn movements killing him way too quickly...

A plan can work too well at times and this one petrified the locals with dread seeing a crucified sailor on an empty boat drifting into port. The area died in shipping so too did the VSCOs income. The problem was solved by a French trader. He agreed to give times and places of other French shipping in return for immunity for his trade ships. This worked really well for both parties with VSCO income returning and the French Merchant growing his business while eliminating much of his French opposition.

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter VI          The young Nicholas Deschamps...

Born in Northern France the son of a Carpenter he was good with wood from an early age. At 16 his father drank himself to death. With the family business in debt the workhouse now loomed or the Navy Yards of Brest. Watching all the ships come and go at Brest he got the sea bug and wanted to travel...

He applied to be a Carpenters mate on a private trade ship called Le Gros Ventre. This was a Tamponne-Class ship owned by a small company called Marine Royale. It basically shipped wine and Parisian Furniture to the Caribbean selling to the growing rich French Planation owners. Returning with Coffee and Sugar to import back into France.

He was now 21 and a full and valued crew member. Learning all aspects of sailing as the Le Gros Ventre did the back and forth many times to the Caribbean returning to Brest. The money and bonuses he’d managed to save a nice amount for a man his age. The Marine Royale Company started to invest directly into the plantation business at San Juan [532, 47] he a small shareholder also. For once in his life his was truly happy...

-o0o-

 

Chapter VII         Marine Royale [MR] and Credit Agricole [CAC]

The Directors at a rival merchant operation became concerned at [MR]s success and growth. The Senior Director instructed VSCO to target the three-month round trip run by Le Gros Ventre. Intercept before landing at San Juan [532, 48], the ship route coming down the [538] latitude. Anywhere between [538, 179] to [538, 128] was perfect. This area was outside the Christendom zone but gold is a persuader in low traffic times even if it meant stepping on other Privateers toes...

Middle of the ocean land still not insight they came out of nowhere. The two Pirate Frigates descended on the Le Gros Ventre with the wind, chained the sails killing her speed. One each side closed in and locked onto the trade ship. The Captain instructed the crew to surrender and offer no resistance hoping for mercy...

VSCOs instruction was to rob, kill all crew then scuttle the ship leaving no trace. The bloodlust though took over and no matter the appeals from Wraith, he wanted a Crucifixion as well. Chris pointed out they were 60 miles out and the wind going NnE anyway...

Wraith filled the Captains log time position and who was the perpetrators reluctantly...

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter VIII        Losing My Religion...

The Sun was so bright burning his skin, the thirst so demanding unlike anything he’d experienced before. Blood loss, dehydration and tiring he could feel his upper body slowly pulling him forward suffocating him slowly... periods of passing out and returning to consciousness left him no concept of time...

Night fell, cooling his skin but the thirst still wouldn’t let up... He was so pissed, the moment he said to himself he was truly happy wham pirates attack...  Some one up there must really fcuking hate him... to die so young and what a miserable life too, a carpenter’s son death by crucifixion... isn’t it ironic...?

The Sun beat down once more, his anger burning matching the pain from the blistered skin, and the never quenching thirst. His mind wondered hallucinating with dehydration and the on set of suffocation... If God hates him so and he doesn’t know why, fcuk him... I’ll trade my soul if you the devil let me live a full life... the heat was in tense as he passes out from heat stroke once more...

 

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter IX           A Contract offered, a deal done...

Knock, knock... Knock, knock... the wrapping sound stirred and woke him. The Sun just setting and a cool breeze adding relief but the thirst relentless. Knock, knock... the sound coming from the bow, he looked down to see what it was...

A well-dressed man in a black three-quarter length coat, and top hat sat on the edge of the ship near the bow front. He was tapping with his black Cain rhythmically... he turned to look at Nicholas...

“Oh, Nicholas Deschamps you are awake at last...” He spoke in a lovely Parisian high society accented French now moving to stand in front of the young sailor...

“Who are you...?” he croaked in a near whisper his throat totally parched.

 

“Please allow me to introduce myself... I'm a man of wealth and taste ...

 

...I've been around for a long, long year ...Stole many a man's soul to waste ...

 

And I was 'round when Jesus Christ ...Had his moment of doubt and pain...

 

Made damn sure that Pilate ...Washed his hands and sealed his fate...

 

...Monsieur Louis Cypher am sure you guessed my name...”

 

Hallucinating in his final hours of life, pissing himself laughing... “Fcuk off and leave me alone...”

“My dear Nicholas you called me, I found your situation amusing indeed. A carpenters Son crucified while he” .... Monsieur Cypher points to the sky with his Cain, thunder sounding in return... “While he throughs you to the wolves just because you said it was the first time in your life you were truly happy... and they call me the devil...”

“Am glad I amuse you so, now fcuk off, you irritating cunt and let me die in piece...”

 

“Ha-Ha, yes that is coming my boy so need to be quick. You want to live I can make that happen. Just because I feel you’ve being hard done by I’ll offer you this Nicholas Deschamps...

...On your death if natural and from old age I’ll keep that soul of yours, however if someone kills you... that soul is his...” pointing upward again and the thunder returning... “The killer will then be contracted to me, and I’ll take his soul instead...”

“What type of deal is that...?” he choked no longer able to lift his head, breathing shallow...

 

Monsieur Louis Cypher started singing to himself, dancing around the bow front...

...Three... six... nine..., the goose drank wine...

...The monkey chew tobacco on the street car line...

...The line broke, the monkey got choked...

...And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat...

...Nicholas ...Nicholas you are dying, please do we have a deal...?

 

“Yes, yes I want to live...”

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

Chapter X            Mortimer Town

...Read all about it... The Jeheil Times... Read all about it...

The Paper Boy stood on an upturned barrel on the busy harbor front with half a dozen broadsheets over his arm.

...Man survives Pirate crucifixion and nine days at sea... Read all about it...

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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The Battle of Tiburon

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT3SBzmDxGk

GB Fleet Route:

START [125, -3], E [170, -3], N [170, 20], NNW [155, 38]

In Preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable...

-          Dwight D. Eisenhower

 

Chapter I             the Western Fleet Closing in, Planning for Battle...

The Western Fleet left the [125, -3] rendezvous point on the Morning watch One Bell or 4:30am. Heading due East towards [170, -3]. The wind NNW cloudy and overcast. The pace was slow with the heavy ships which wasn’t a problem. Hethwill and the Frigates had scouted ahead. This stretch of open water is quiet with most ships keeping closer to the coast. The order of the day was dry cannon drills to keep the men busy. The cannons quiet so not to draw attention. The crews will be fed early afternoon with the expected arrival towards dusk 7pm.

They arrived at the turn point [170, -3] and paused. Each squadron sorted itself out for the next move North would be [170, 20] then the NW turn into the Tiburon Bay and the PORT itself. The Rear Squadron would be the furthest EAST coming into the coast line. The Mortar Brigs Working together drop the first then second tower with the fort last. They’d move in each time a tower fell. Once complete target the PORT bay with the Credit Agricole Indiaman Trade ships.

 

Attack Plan Tiburon

image.png.647b0b5ee36527abefdcec5f41bac94a.png

Within the seven-mile perimeter Fleet expected the French-Van Line [FR Van] between [150, 35] going East to [160, 35]. Four L’Ocean-XX and two 74-gun Temeraire-class ships supporting. The French Rear Line [148, 38] going East to [155, 38]. Same set up Four L’Ocean-XX with two 74-Gun Temeraire-class ships. Then the French Flag L’Ocean-XX [Ribault] behind both lines near the FORT near the coast.

Attached to each squadron a Le-Requin 6th Rate fast support attack ship. These ships will be free float spotters and Mortar Brig hunters and stern campers. Wolf-Packs need to drop these two...

However, the main French Heavy Fleet ships will be anchored so, NNW wind will have them Bow facing SSE as the GB force approaches not broadside facing. They need to spot the GB fleet early in order to start pulling up anchors which takes an age or cutting away. The Ocean-XXs then need to start a slow turn into the West.

Anchor FR Positions

image.png.81c7ed40be48fc60555102488ac1d609.png

 

The Officers Meeting wanted Admin with Van to go at them then and pull West. This while Ink and Center Squadron comes in over the top directly at them. The two squads then double on each single FR ship. The FR Rear are too far and against the wind to be a threat. As the FR Van turns WEST to get wind they’ll open the Stern to INKs squadron. If they don’t turn INK will rake anyway. Timing is the key with Admin not pushing too fast. INK needs to cover more ground., Admin needs to stall. Attack Double one ship a time over whelming it into surrender.

GB Rear needs caution not to run ahead before Admin and Ink have engaged. Otherwise they maybe a good broadside target for the FR-Van far East Ship. When in distance the M-Brigs start reducing the first tower. Watch out for the 2x Le-Requin ships floating, they need Frigates to support the M-Brigs.

The FR REAR is a wait and see game. The FR Van must be destroyed first. This may allow the Trade ships to escape though while they have the un-restricted wind...

 

Also, Worth a look...

His friend had The Battle of Aboukir Bay, Fleet has The Battle of Tiburon. Both look similar in operation.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Nile

-o0o-

 

Chapter II            Thunderstruck...

The Western Fleet main Van and Center Line-ship squadrons, with the wind powered into the Tiburon Bay at a pace. The Rear following close behind. The French caught definitely off guard and taken totally by surprise. The anchored Ocean-XXs had no time to react. Admin turned West first in front of the first L’O. Ink wider turning in a longer arch, receiving ranging shots from the near Tower coming behind the same L’O. The Mortar Brigs pulled up in range of the first tower. Targeting and firing within 5 minutes.

Not sure if the first French-Van Ocean-XX Les-Etats-de-Bourgogne got any shots off, Ink layered the broadside into the rear of the Ship. The internal destruction was devastating against the untouched PORT and STARBOARD sides. Ink depowered needing to assess damage and let the ship behind carry on to the next L’O. Again, it was too late for the near French ships, the two squadrons were already on top of them. The second Ocean-XX Le-Sans-Culotte surrendered exactly the same after another devasting stern rake. Admin pulling them off course first.

The Smoke and fading light reduced visibility to feet instead of yards, Admin turned his squadron North the French Van done for. Ink followed suit towards the slow shifting French Rear. Both British fleets hadn’t got off scot-free though. Ink’s ship showing real damage and Admin’s third ship losing a lot of crew. The HMS Victory started to follow up between both lines NW. The Two towers gone. The fort coming under heavy bombardment from the Mortar Brigs.

-o0o-

 

Chapter III           Hunting the Jack...

After anchoring at Tiburon, Rear Admiral Jean Ribault had sent both Le-Requin ships to scout and wait for the British Fleet. When sighted, to return for the French fleet to give chase and block their return to K/PR.  The first North side to [205, 68], the second south side [282, 000]. He also had VSCO scouting with ear to the ground, but to date this Western Fleet was nowhere to be seen. Even the Wolf-Packs had retreated.

He sat at his main desk, in his Grand Cabin aboard the [CAC] Flag Ocean-XX named L'Impérial. Even at sea looking for battle near-daily dispatches still showed up from the Ribault Mansion.  The “In” pile still high as he stood, stretched and walked round the cabin twiddling the Ganesh totem. 

Patience Ribault, he said to himself. It’s a good trap and springing it will devastate the British. He poured himself another glass of red as the Sun dropped and the light faded. But it didn’t fade. The flames from the Van squadrons a blaze South, the smoke defusing the colors making a beautiful spectacle. The Marine Drumming started the Beat to Quarters as all hell now breaking loose. Jean running to the Quarter Deck...

-o0o-

 

Chapter IV          the Mid-Game Brawl...

The two GB Squadrons with the weather gauge pressed onto the very slow-moving Rear Four Ocean-XXs and the two 74-Gun support ships.  The HMS Victory bringing up the Rear. The smoke dense and darkness totally with no moon either. Both French and British fleets had condensed into a small patch of water to brawl it out. The British speed no advantage colliding with the Ocean-XX group. The Mortar Brigs destroyed the Tiburon fort, turning to targeting the Credit Agricole Indiaman Trade ships in the port causing a raging fire storm with the tightly packed ships.

The L'Impérial started to move away from the central Ocean-XX pack moving SW round the back of the melee sighting the rear of the HMS Victory who was totally in cloud and smoke now and wouldn’t see the rear approach. The HMS Indefatigable frigate, with the wind turned with all speed and headed to intercept the super massive French Flag ship...

The Ocean-XX ship had three decks, with 16x 36-pound cannons on the lower deck, 18x 24-pound on the middle and 18x 12-pound on the upper deck. This total mass weight accumulated to some 1,244 pounds of cannonball weight. A Ball leaves a cannon at roughly 1,000mph so at a short distance would deliver a force momentum of some 30 tons. The HMS Victory, receiving such a force at the stern would be destroyed as she did to The Bucentaure at Trafalgar three years earlier killing nearly 200 crew in one rake.

The compacted battle now played more to the Ocean-XXs advantage than the British and it showed as losses mounted. However, the Ocean-XXs were outnumbered two one so the war of attrition still implies a loss.

-o0o-

 

Chapter V            Taking on the full Force Momentum...  

The Ocean-XX Flag L'Impérial crawled into position up and on towards the HMS The Victory who was entangled with the badly raked and damaged Le Dauphin Royal. Ribault on the Quarter Deck pushing his crew hard to drive them at the target...

... Rear Admiral Hethwill had got the HMS Indefatigable at full speed 12knots coming along the Starboard side of L'Impérial and port of the HMS Victory. Ribault was fuming with rage seeing the British frigate coming out of the smoke to hide his primary target. The Wolf-Pack ship once again screwing with him... This is the last time that’ll ever happen... He screamed FIRE... Fire... fire...

At near point-blank range the HMS Indefatigable took the full momentum of the 1,200 pounds of solid iron accelerated to 1,000mph, delivering some 30-odd tons of devastating force. The Quarter Deck disintegrated into splinters, flesh and bone as Hethwill and 214 crew were killed instantly crippling the British frigate warship. The HMS Victory remained untouched as Le Dauphin Royal struck her colors. The French Flag L'Impérial rolled away the Battle lost.

-o0o-

 

Chapter VI          Hunting Peacocks...

It was time to leave, Fleet instructing Kent his XO to get signaling and shouting to the others as they both walked up and down the Quarter Deck. The re-group area was at La Navasse [126, 44], then if all good back to Port Morant [63, 18] and K/PR. If not then egress to Port Antonio [55, 33] ...

His ship Le Dauphin Royal had surrendered, but not he no not yet. He sat on the “Top” platform of the Main lower mast. It helped spread the stays that held the mast to give it better purchase. In battle in was a good sniper platform.

Alan Bernard 20, was a Voltigeur a light infantry skirmisher attached to the Ocean-XX ship. Unusually he carried an Ezekiel Baker rifle. This his own hunting gun he’d grown up using since his dad gave it to him aged 12. He was allowed to keep it in the regiment due to his exceptional shooting ability. At 200yards Alan was lethal with the 9-pound weapon measuring just 46 inches in length.

In a crouch, Squat-Kneeling with the right knee on the platform, his left knee supported the elbow and arm that carried the rifle. He leaned his body into the mast letting it take his weight feeling the slight roll of the ship.

He ranges in on the distance of HMS Victory’s quarter deck below, not rushing noticing the breeze and strength of the wind, adjusting. The two officers walking strutting up and down the deck like proud peacocks. He focuses on them, which to target at just under 100yards. One of the Peacocks walks just behind the other. Yeah, it’s a deliberate show of obeisance... The other must be the Senior officer. He moves the barrel ever so slightly third of an inch if that across. He cocks the hammer back. Focusing on the lead Peacock slowing his heart rate, he breathes out and squeezes the trigger...

The problem with the Baker was its slow reload time so when you fire you fire to kill his dad would drill into him. The slightly undersized lead ball needed to be wrapped in a small patch of greased linen. This allowed it to more closely fit the bands of rifling. It took a lot of force to ram home the ball when loading the tight wad and thus the extra time.

...The lead ball hit center mass the lead peacock, his white shirt exploding into a crimson red. Thrown back the other officer catches him as they both fall to the ground. Job done, he rolls round the opposite side to the mast remaining still hiding from retaliation shooters smiling to himself.

-o0o-

 

Chapter VII         A Planned Exit...

“Drufus Kent get on your feet, you are a fcuking Officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy...”

Admin yelled at him. The ships all packed in, very close together Admin could clearly be seen on the Bow of his own ship ahead of the Victory his sword drawn blood stained the left side of his face and jacket. His or another who knows...

Drufus Kent pushed the carcass off him and rolled onto all fours. He was covered in blood. Onto one knee using his hand to push off he tried to stand... but couldn’t there was quite literally nothing left inside the man. Tears down his face, his hand trembles as the shock manifests itself.

“Dru, I need you. I need that famous XO... The Indef is gone, she’s done for. I need you to take control of Rear group... I’ll send Center group out to La Nav first, Ink and crew are in bad shape so they go first. I’ll follow then you bring up the rear. Any surviving Wolf-Packs protect our sterns... I don’t want a double tap to the head from a fcuking Le-Requin after all this work...

...We’ll regroup at La Nav. If tagged egress to Port Antonio otherwise Port Morant and home to K/PR...

...You understand Dru... do you fcuking understand?”

Drufus Kent pushed off the knee with both hands. Stood straight, focus total on Admin. The face showing anger sorrow total rage covered in dried blood. He straightened his coat, corrected his posture into an attention and gave Admin a crisp clean salute with the right-hand, palm never showing... He bellows...

“Aye-aye Fleet...” With one step-back he turns on heel and marches across the quarter deck issuing commands to the crew of HMS Victory to climb onto the poop deck into the smoke and darkness.

Admin sword in hand, runs across the deck to the starboard side searching for his friend... “Ink, Ink you there...? I didn’t give you permission to fcuking die so you must there...”

“Aye-aye Fleet, just Sir. What is your Order Sir...?” The man covered in black powder soot, a white handkerchief tied to the right arm indicting he’d boarded something recently. No sword, lost just the axe in hand. Covered in hair blood and what nots.

“Get Center Squadron moving NW and we’ll regroup there. I’ll follow, The Flag will cover the Rear... understood?”

“Sir, your Flag now. Understood Fleet see at La Navesse...”

-o0o-

 

Chapter VIII        the Butchers Bill...

Tiburon was a blaze and shone bright against the dark night for miles around. The victorious convoy regrouped unmolested at La Navasse. They turned South West heading towards Port Morant and home. Admin sat at his Captain’s desk writing the action report. The Cabin in bits, was raked a couple of times. He drank from the open bottle of Saint-Joseph not able to find a single glass in one piece.

The task of writing a successful battle report was still bitter sweet and not a purely joyous affair at all. The butchers bill, or cost was the list to complete. He took a long hard drink from the bottle before putting Quill to parchment...

British Forces

First rated Ships of the Line started with 6 in each squadron plus the Flag HMS Victory total 13. Lost 5 Victory survived. Four 74-Gun Bellona-class third rated lost two. One sinking on the way to La Navasse.

Five frigates started with three losses including the HMS Indefatigable. All three Mortar-Brigs destroyed by French retreating Ocean and 74-Gun support ship.

Officers:

Fleet Admiral [3*] Norfolk nNimitz [Western Fleet] Red Flag

Rear Admiral [1*] Hethwill [Rear Squadron] Blue Flag

 

French Forces

Starting with 9x [CAC] Ocean-XX-class, two survived. One escaped the flag ship L'Impérial the other taken a prize Le Dauphin Royal. The rest too badly damaged and were scuttled. Four 74-Gun Temeraire-class started, three sank. Two Le-Requin small attack support ships unseen and suspect still active in the area.

The [Credit Agricole] Indiaman Trade ships started with 25x. None survived all burned in the port fire storm from the Mortar Brig attack.

Officers:

Unknown as yet, but Rear Admiral [2*] Jean Ribault did escape the area.

 

He threw the quill down shaking his head and drained the bottle empty... “And we fcuking won...”

 

-o0o-

 

 

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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The Pacific a New Frontier...

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCFBtIqhWKA

This is the last story in the Pulp Fiction Series. I Hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think. Would you like more in future?

Thanks again for taking the time to read them

 

Norfolk

 

 

 

Chapter I             Government Hse., Kingston/Port Royal

Norfolk nChance sat in his best No.2 Dress uniform in the reception area of Government House. He checked his late father’s Hunter-Case Pocket watch against the Grandfather clock 9:55am. He had a 10 o’clock with Vice-Admiral James Richard Dacres, Commander-in-Chief Jamaica Station. He was the Admiralty here in the Caribbean.

Dacres 59, had a marvelous Naval career and accumulated considerable wealth. He was retiring and moving back to England so wrapping up all business here before departure and a new head appointed. The Admiralty also needed to re-assign assets including Divisional leaders as well...

The Grandfather clock, clanged echoing off the walls registering 10am. Norfolk stood straightened his coat hat in hand and walk to the plain brown double office doors, knocked firmly twice and waited...

Enter...

-o0o-

 

Chapter II            Praise and Lecture...

The large messy office covered in stacked boxes and rolled up maps made it hard to see Dacres hidden behind a pile of whatever packaging on his desk. He marched up to the furniture coming to an abrupt halt two paces before. Stood to attention and gave a crisp salute never showing the palm, stiff like a stone statue. Dacres stood, straitening his black civilian clothing and returned the salute to the rank.

“Good Morning, Vice-Admiral Dacres, Norfolk nChance [ELITE] division reporting to Jamaica station as ordered Sir.”

“arrgh Norfolk my boy, I know its early but a glass of Saint-Joseph?” the man looked tired and was ready to leave the station. The large bags forming under his bloodshot eyes and rounded shoulders showing a worn-out man. Both men toasted the King. Dacres moving them both to the large wall maps of the Caribbean at the back of the room.

“Norfolk, your father was a sad loss. A good friend and a Navy hero. You know I served with them both...?”

“Thank-you Sir, with father and his friend? What was he like bulletproof...?”

Dacres laughing, “Why does everyone ask what was Nelson like? ... I commanded both of the two villains a few times. At Cape St. Vincent I was Fleet Admiral... (Norfolk feeling a lecture coming...)

...Admiralty developed the Permeant Fighting Instructions to keep control of many massive Line ships at anyone time. Keeping this tight line meant the delivery force momentum onto the enemy was maximized. What tended to happen instead was an inaction or ossification with an un-willingness on both sides to engage...

... Lord Howe started it, Nimitz and Nelson followed keenly disobeying permanent orders exploiting areas that gave forced multipliers into a BATTLE situation... It took great courage and with calculated risk could take the day... The Frigate Captains like Pellew, Cochrane or Duckworth did this as routine. This free thinking gets drummed out of you the further you climb with the larger the ship. Your Dad never stopped thinking... don’t let it happen to you...”

-o0o-

 

 

Chapter III           Current SitRep The Caribbean...

Dacres picked up his teak point-stick looking briefly at his Admiralty notes going on to explain the current situation and probable near-term highlights. Post the Battle of Tiburon within two months Santo Domingo fell to the Criollos locals and the French were out. In Haiti, Slave revolts starting at Saint-Marc that expanded, again the French unable to control and are now out. Puerto Rico now looks to be the next French island to go.  Once the news spread to Europe of this, Spain became the UKs new ally...

Rear Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane Commander-in-Chief Leeward islands has taken temporary control of the Wolf-Pack squadron with the death of Rear Admiral Hethwill. He’s blockading Martinique, Fort-Royale and area. He’s worried about the Neutral Danes coming into the war on Boney’s side. He wants a full-on land invasion of both Martinique and Guadeloupe, Basse-Terre to take France out before the Danes decide to throw their hat in.

The French are rumored to be launching a Re-Supply Expedition Mission to help restore French rule after Credit Agricole’s Ribault returned to France and pleaded his case with Talleyrand. This we doubt will happen or if it does not in strength as resources there are tight as well.

This means more or less we have the Caribbean under control. It means [ELITE]s small bespoke division is surplus or a luxury in the Caribbean that could be more useful elsewhere...

Here it comes... thinking Norfolk, here it comes...

 

-o0o-

 

Chapter IV          A New Frontier and Problems...

Did you know Norfolk I met your Grandfather just before his second Global voyage in ’72? We got plastered in the Prospect of Whitby ale house in Limehouse ending up in some trouble in the local opium den and whore house next door. A wonderful cartographer and explorer...

...My Grandfather was the famous British explorer Captain Norfolk nCook. A stubborn Yorkshireman like myself. On his third voyage was killed trying to kidnap a Hawaiian King after a dispute over ship repairs or something that turned very sour. Explorer maybe, but a Yorkshire Diplomat your asking for trouble. And was killed in a fight that broke out. Rumors persist that the King was prone to Anthropophagy after Grandads body was stripped mutilated and only the bones were left. The King stating this is how they honor fighting Hero’s... hmmm....

...Anyway Norfolk, we at the Admiralty had hoped like him you could navigate to the Pacific from the Atlantic side here in the Caribbean. Do you think that’s possible...?

“Of course, Sir” Norfolk opening his satchel taking out two folders... “These are my Grandad’s General Navigation Guide and the Route to the Pacific directly...”

“Amazing work great stuff.... Now what we need you to do Norfolk...” Dacres pulling down a rolled map of the pacific over the Caribbean one...

 

see the link and PDF attached

-o0o-

 

Chapter V            [ELITE] New Mission... New Location...

Admiralty would like you to move the [ELITE] HQ from Bensalem [-435, 30] on the Yucatan Peninsula to the Pacific Ocean. Find and build the new [ELITE] HQ on the Galapagos Islands [-430, 573]. The route must be like Captain Norfolk nCook travelling WEST not EAST.

Going south past Brazil round the Cape Horn, or going North past the United States through the Northwest Passage into the Pacific. You must measure the time and distance travelled. We need the quickest route there and back...

Full roll out of shipyard, warehouse and armory with a good defendable port with infrastructure.

“Sir, seriously why there’s nothing out there. Why all the hardware...? ...and wouldn’t Easter Island be a better Pacific sight...?” Norfolk pointing too it taking a good swig of the wine.

Dacres might not care and was just passing along London’s orders but deflects “That’s the orders Norfolk. Am sure they’ve seen Easter Islands location also. Anyway, got a good Easter Joke for you...

...Man takes his Son fishing and the boy says... “Dad why is my sister called Teresa?” His father laughing “well Son, when she was born your mother loves Easter and Teresa is an anagram of Easter. Why do you ask Alan...?”

Norfolk spits out the red wine nearly joking laughing, shocked a Vice-Admiral would tell such a rude joke. “Yes Sir, err very funny indeed Sir...”

 -o0o-

 

 

Chapter VI          the East Indies Station and China Station...

The furthest Royal Navy outpost was in Ceylon at the old trading port of Trincomalee. Then a couple of years ago the China Station was opened in Singapore at the straits of Malacca. With the rise in China Tea demand the East India Company requested protection into the South China Sea from Pirates. This is further North near the Pearl River Delta near the Portuguese enclave of Macau.

Link up with Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Troubridge, 1st Baronet is the Commander-In-Chief of both East Indies and China Stations in Singapore. He believes traffic will be coming your way from Localizations of forces from The Japan’s, China and Korea.

We need to be prepared and you Norfolk with [ELITE] are our frontline...

 

“Sir, regarding the Pacific do you think we’ll see a lot of Naval Action...?

 

-o0o-

 

 

the end...

 

http://forum.game-labs.net/topic/26960-guide-norfolk-ncook-using-a-map-charts-coal-to-get-around-the-caribbean/

 

Edited by Norfolk nChance
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