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The Journeys of the Fevre Dream

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The Journeys of the Fevre Dream

Post by David.C on Thu Jan 28, 2016 4:34 pm

The sun hadn't risen yet.

Sailing in the winter was no pleasure cruise. If you didn't wear gloves when you climbed up the rigging you'd lose your fingers to frostbite, if there was a hole in your boot you'd lose a few toes, and no matter how much you wore, the biting cold wind of the Atlantic would go right through you and leave you feeling cold as a ghost.

The advantage that came with the winter, was the long nights. Two hours ago the crew of the Fevre Dream spotted their quarrel. It was a small river barge without any guns, there would be no challenge in taking her, especially considering the Barge hadn't even spotted the Fevre Dream yet. All of the Dream's lights were out, and the only sign of her presence was the big black starless square where her black sail stood. The plan to capture the prize was simple: sneak up in front of the barge and rake her from bow to stern. With a faster ship that handled better in the open sea, and the element of surprise, it was an easy task.

The Fevre Dream was in position and their foe hadn't even noticed them. The gun crews were at the ready, and David waited. He waited for...

There it was, the Barge had finally noticed the Fevre Dream. He could hear panicked shouts go between the small crew of the barge, but it only took David one word to silence them.
"Fire!" He called out. His voice wasn't made for command, it was too soft and was easily drowned out by the chaos of a battle, but it was a voice people listened for. It was gentle and calming, but David himself was quite the opposite, and that made people stop and listen. When David spoke he sounded like an angel that came down from the heavens just to call somebody a cunt.

What he said though was much worse than any obscenity, for he just commanded the death of an unknowable amount of men he'd never meet. The whole starboard side of the Fevre Dream lit up, and there was a crack louder than thunder, then the deck was black again. David could make out the deck of the Barge though, and saw several cannonballs rip through her. People screamed as the barge was nearly torn apart, debris flew into the air and landed into the water with a splash, and the boats little sail was let loose into the wind. It took David's breath away to watch it all. This was the point of no return. News of this crime would inevitably reach the world, and David wouldn't be able to escape the reputation that would come to him. As of this moment, history would remember him as a pirate. Was that what he wanted?

"Raise anchor, unfurl sails, and make ready for boarding!" He commanded, and he was easy to hear. There was only one scream in the distance that challenged him. Likely a sailor that lost a chunk of flesh to a cannonball.

The Fevre Dream approached the barge slowly, and for several minutes there was nothing to do but listen to the mans screaming. Was nobody going to attend to him? What would David do with him? He was going to have what remained of the crew put to the sword of course, but it seemed wrong to kill an injured man who couldn't fight.

Before David decided on what to do the Fevre Dream had closed in on the barge. He was standing on the aftcastle, watching his crew make their way onto the barge. Now that they were closer David could see "LE DADOU" written on the side of the boat. Next to it was the coat of arms of the County of Poitou.

Dave walked down the steps from the aftcastle and onto the deck, then climbed down from a net that was draped across the side of the Fevre Dream and jumped onto the deck of the Dadou. The Vanguard, which already swept across the deck and left three dead bodies behind, had started their sweep through the haul. One of the dead bodies David saw must have been the screamer, since the screaming had stopped.
One less problem to deal with. He thought to himself.

David paced around the deck until a pair of people emerged carrying a rolled up tapestry together. A wide grin spread on David's face. What luck! The first prize he had seized was not only a defenseless barge, but a luxury trader as well. A few men later came up rolling barrels of what David assumed was quality liquor.

Getting everything back on board was going to be an issue. The Dadou's deck was about 3 meters down from the Fevre Dream's, and David spent the hours leading up to the brief fight trying to find a way to move everything. What he came up with wasn't easy, and it wasn't fast, but it was the best they could do. The vanguard tied the goods to a rope, tossed the rope up to the Fevre Dream, and then the rest of the crew would pull it aboard.

"Ye' can handle this without issue I reckon." Said David to the members of the vanguard that had already set about their task.

He walked up to the edge of the Dadou then leaped off towards the Fevre Dream and grabbed hold of the net, and climbed up onto the deck. His arms were thin and without muscle, but he was a small man. It didn't take any strength at all to pull himself up.

He started walking towards his cabin, but stopped before walking through the door and turned around to address the crew.
"Good job lads! T'was a French prize we stole, but mark me words, England will take 'fense ta it. For what she was, she's got quite a bit of value in her hold, but there are much bigger prizes ta be found an' I dinnae like being this close ta England. I'll be retirin' fer the mornin', but see us cut loose from the Dadou and set out full sails to the west come sunrise! There be a storm there, but we'll weather it. Our next prize will be deep in the Celtic Sea, and there'll be nobody to stop us from claiming it."

Most of the crew that wasn't on the Dadou was on deck and listening to him, and those who weren't would hear their orders second hand from those who were. "An' don't worry, should any patrol try to give chase we'll lose 'em in ta storm. This prize is the first o'many, and mark me words, when we're done the seas will be a much different place." With that David turned and entered his cabin. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it on the floor, then maneuvered through the dark to find his bed. Along the way he walked into his desk, bumped into a chair, and then finally found his bed and collapsed onto it. He was too tired to get undressed, or even take his boots off. He pulled the blankets over himself, and fell asleep without a single thought on his mind. He was too tired to think about anything, either. The time at sea was taking it's toll on him, and he hadn't had a proper nights rest since he left Ipswich.

Last edited by David.C on Fri Feb 26, 2016 8:49 pm; edited 1 time in total

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The Wolf of the Celtic Sea

Post by David.C on Sat Jan 30, 2016 10:25 am

David didn't get to sleep for long. Less than an hour after resting his head the Fevre Dream was cut loose from their prize, LE DADOU, and a few hours after that they had sailed right into a storm and he had to get up to lead his crew. Nobody needed to wake David up, the melancholic howl of the wind made him stir, and the intense rocking of the ship made his stomach feel like jelly. "Oh chri-" He started when he felt liquid jet up from his belly. He turned his head and vomited off of his bed and onto the floor.


He stepped out of bed, on the side where he didn't puke, and made his way out the door. His room was easier to navigate now that there was some light coming in through the windows, but the sun struggled to work past the thick layer clouds looming above. His room was a dimly lit grey. Near to his door, his jacket was laying on the ground. David kicked it up with his foot and grabbed a hold of it, then slipped it on and took his cloak from a hook on his door and put that on as well, fastening it with a bronze brooch made in the shape of a Celtic knot.

David opened the door and stepped outside, but was set aback when he was hit by a face full of snow.
"Bloody hell!" He cried out, unable to even hear himself over the wind. Dave stepped out from the safety of his room and into the blizzard that was sweeping across the deck of the Fevre Dream.

The sea around him was furious. If David didn't know the gods as well as he did, he would think that they took offense to the capture of Le Dadou by the way they were reacting. This sort of storm is what David needed though. It seemed the gods were saying something along the lines of,
"This is what you asked for David. Enjoy several days of seasickness, and we hope you look forward to not sleeping at all." because that's what he could expect to go through for the duration of the storm. David had no right to complain, however, for this storm would likely be enough to lose any patrols that might give chase.

He had discussed the possibility of being pursued with his Quartermaster. If the English found the wreck of Le Dadou and made the connection that David was in the area at the time, there would doubtlessly be a patrol sent to hunt him down and the French would react the same. They'd expect him to go to Ireland though. They wouldn't expect him to go south, but that was just the most reasonable thing to do. He could capture another prize, and not abandon most of it's cargo this time, and lose the English.

It would put him further away from Ireland though.

Was he going to see Ireland again? After having some rest it seemed clear to David that the English would figure out his crime. He was always so obvious, wasn't he? He let them know where he was, and then he left Le Dadou where he found it. Of course they would be furious, and of course he would be hunted - by England and France together. Unless Le Dadou was far enough away from England not to care... But Dave knew how England functioned, England would want to care. If David sank another ship at the opposite side of the world, England would make it it's business. So the possibility was real that David would never see his sweet home of Ireland again, if either the French or English navies caught him at sea. That weighed hard on his mind.

David walked up the steps of the aftcastle, to where the wheel was. Each step was a risk while the ship rocked back and forth, nearly tipping each time, harassed by the wind. If David lost his balance he could be thrown into the sea, but he only needed to climb a dozen steps to get to the top where one of the Helmsmen was steering. He looked younger than David, but he said he was 15. He looked more like 12. He was short and small, much like David, but his face was prettier and his hair was short and golden. David didn't know the man by name yet.

"Where are we, lad?" He asked.

"The storm snuck up on us sir, I'm not quite sure." He squeaked, and gulped nervously.

"Doesn' matter, we'll find our way soon. We headed west?" Said David.

The boy nodded.

"Well keep puttin' distance between us an' England, but start movin' south, 'sif we're on way to Portugal."

David hoped that his plan worked. It was possible they'd get spit out of the storm right next to a French patrol... But there was always the risk of things going poorly. David wasn't worried of dying so much as he was scared of dying at sea. He was quite a striking pirate, and as some made him out to be, a competent captain, but the sea made him uncomfortable. When he stared out across it he didn't see anything beautiful, he saw a menacing blue wall staring back that had nothing good to offer.

The sea wasn't a place of freedom like people made it out to be. The sea was the only frontier in which nobody was welcome.


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Re: The Journeys of the Fevre Dream

Post by David.C on Tue Feb 09, 2016 1:39 pm

It had been 12 days since the capture of Le Dadou, and 12 days that the Fevre Dream had been hiding in the storm that was assaulting the Atlantic. At one point during the voyage, David couldn't quite remember when, the idea of sailing towards Portugal to throw off the Navy changed into sailing towards Portugal to take on food and water. Neither the French nor the English would expect David to go to there. The Portugese hated the Irish, the Irish hated the Portugese, and David was known to stay close to the Isles. With it being impossible for the Navy to give pursuit in the storm, and it being wholly unexpected for the Fevre Dream to land in Portugal, David felt safe. He felt a bit uneasy too, for the furthest he had ever been away from Britain before now was Champagne. Now he was further from home than ever before. His exact location was uncertain. When a Captain spent this much time in a storm he couldn't know where he was for sure. None of the stars that guided men at sea had shown themselves. The storm never broke and the clouds were unwavering shields that kept the heavens out of sight.

David was sitting in the Garrison, the mess hall of the Fevre Dream, alone at a table tucked away in a corner. The room was livelier than he was used to seeing it. The crew was throwing a party to lift everyone's spirits. For a party it was awfully calm, but most of the crew was either busy sleeping or, doing their jobs. There were five others, besides David, who were sitting at a table together playing cards, drinking beer and enjoying themselves. Dave looked grim and glum sitting alone, expressionless, but he was happy. No, happy wasn't the best word for David at that moment. He was just... Content. The fear of never seeing land again was gone now that the course was set for Portugal, and after the first week of extreme discomfort, David got used to the storm. His stomach had settled  and he could keep down his meals, and his legs adjusted to the rocking of the ship, and there wasn't anything to worry about. The Fevre Dream was built to handle the worst the Atlantic had to offer.

For David every day on board the ship was dull and no different than the last, but today was alright. He was sitting by his lonesome, relaxing and enjoying the fruits of his labour, and oh it was sweet. He watched the crew he built play their cards and joke with each other, and he was sipping away at a glass of Whiskey. Whiskey that he stole.

When David dreamed of becoming a pirate, he thought mostly about the thrill of risking everything at sea, and that thrill was real. He felt the adrenaline kick in when his crew opened fire upon Le Dadou, and plunged itself into the storm, but since then it was hard to say what he felt. His mind was empty of all of it's usual torments, and all he was left with was a sense of contentedness.

He looked into his glass and smiled softly. If it weren't for David, this Whiskey would either be sitting in the cellar of a mansion, or would've already been consumed by some fat, greedy, rich lord who didn't deserve it. Not that David was any more deserving of it, just because he successfully stole it didn't mean he had a right to it, but David liked knowing that it didn't matter who deserved this Whiskey. Regardless of who deserved it David was the only one with the means, the strength, and the will to take it. Under his breath he laughed. What a small prize it was, but to be able to take anything, even a glass of whiskey, was such a remarkable feeling after losing everything.


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Re: The Journeys of the Fevre Dream

Post by David.C on Tue Feb 16, 2016 8:24 am

What did she look like? Her hair was... Black, if David recalled correctly. It was black, but when it danced in the sun he could see faint embers. Her hair never danced though. What colour were her eyes? Blue? Or did David just see his reflection when he looked into her eyes? She was such a distant memory now that David was sure that nothing he remembered was as it was. He had a clear image in his head about what she looked like, but when he tried to focus on any one detail she vanished before him. It was painful to have forgotten the eyes he was so quick to lose himself in. It felt like she wasn't even real, his lady love. She had been gone a long time and David had changed. The evenings spent with each other, and the promises exchanged had been swallowed by time.

Why on earth was he thinking about this now though? The memory sneaked up on him. He woke up and rubbed his eyes, but when he opened them again she was standing there. Between his bed and his door, she was standing.

"Sails!" he heard someone bellow. "To the east!" and he looked away for a moment, and when he looked back she was gone.

David sat up in bed and stared at the door. There was a woman there a moment ago, he was sure. A woman who looked just like Blaze did, he thought. A revenant sent to call his memory back to days long passed. But to what purpose? He wondered.

A knock came on the door, and the pretty blonde helmsman David had seen a few times came in right after. David avoided eye contact, and shifted his eyes towards the empty book case next to the door.
"I heard." David stated. "Southwest. Try not to work 'gainst the wind too much. Now be off." with that, the Helmsman left the room without a word. David laid back down in bed and fell asleep.

Soon again, he woke once more. He was alone this time, but something was different. His room was...


He shot out of his bed like a child that woke up on Christosmass day, and ran out onto the deck in nothing but his nightclothes. An old pair of trousers, and a ragged white shift. He got outside and looked up at the sky. The great cloudless blue sky. Everything was so damn bright too! Two ungodly weeks without the sun. He started thinking that the gods had cursed him and he'd never see the sun or stars again, but there it was. A jeweled crown, a sunny sky.

David shouted at the nearest crewmate
"Do we know where we are?" And he looked at David, puzzled. "Ye'ven't been told? We're half a days sailin' from Gascogne, cap'n. We're 'pproachin' Iberia now too, will just be a few hours 'till we're there."

Iberia? Had David really made it that far? If that was the case it would be less than 10 days until they'd reach Portugal.

"Bloody good that is to hear!" He said with a shining grin. "I'm off ta' get a drink an' celebrate. Make sure the crew knows where to find me."


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Re: The Journeys of the Fevre Dream

Post by David.C on Mon Feb 22, 2016 2:59 pm

The celebrations never stopped. Below deck in The Garrison part of the crew was partying like they would die tomorrow, because they very well might, but their high spirits couldn't be contained. They captured a ship right under England's nose and threw themselves into a storm before anybody could catch them, and actually managed to sail back out. That fact gave every man on the ship a high that would last for months. They weren't the bunch of misfits they always thought they were anymore, they were true pirates, and pirates had to party.

The party had lasted a week without interruption, and showed no signs of stopping. When people woke up, they went and did their job, but when they finished their shift they ducked into The Garrison and made the most of their time.

David was on duty right now, though. Most of his waking time was spent on duty. There were a few men who could be trusted to steer the ship, a dozen capable fighters, nearly everyone knew how to hoist the sails, but there was only one captain, and the crew couldn't work without it's captain. And at the moment the crew really needed it's captain, because another fight was about to start.

On the horizon was a hulk flying Breton colours. There were no guns, but even so she was riding low. David figured she was worth taking, but he wasn't quite sure how to take it. She was faster and more maneuverable than the Fevre Dream, but it would only take a couple of good broadsides to send her into submission. 

The Hulk was to going to the southwest, against the wind, and the Fevre Dream was right in her path. David climbed to the aftcastle, the most protected place that was above deck. "Sail ta' meet the enemy off'a our port side, ya' hear?" He asked the helmsman, who wasn't the young blonde boy David was used to seeing, but someone else, who looked like a skin-sack of bones. The helmsman nodded and David waited for the distance between the two ships to close before bellowing, "Gun crews, make ready!" and saw his men scramble into place.

The loaders set about getting the cannons ready to fire, archers started gathering in the forecastle, and the vanguard started to gather on deck. Then, suddenly, the Hulk started turning away. Was their captain so dumb as to show their stern to the Fevre Dream and run? "Keep going straight, we'll rake 'em when the chance is there and the fight will be o'er 'fore it's began." He said to the helmsman, then took out his spyglass to watch the prize.

Then he saw why the captain was running. They didn't have any guns on their sides, but they had a single chase gun on their stern and before David told his crew to open fire the single cannon fired. For an instant David was terrified, but then he remembered he had eleven guns pointed back. The cannonball flew over the deck and put a hole clean through the main sail.

"Return fire!" He shrieked, and a volley of cannonballs was sent towards their quarry. The hull took one hell of a beating, and the mast crashed down into the water and uprooted part of the deck with it. "Now turn west, we're going to board." he told the helmsman, then again shouted to the crew, "We're going to board!"


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