James T. Kirk

Scotty cast a glance to Nimoy, then nodded, offering the glass briefly over. "Aye, it is. Looks to be a lifeboat, one man aboard her, headin' right for us." The details were getting clearer by the moment, and so far, the other ship still had not responded. "We've taken in sail to allow him to catch us. Then we'll get whatever story it might be he has."

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He'd been referring to the main ship he had seen on the horizon, but now that Scotty mentioned it, he could make out the lifeboat as well.

"We got any idea who they are, the other ship, not the lifeboat?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Have they signalled?"

Because if they hadn't, that most likely meant... trouble brewing.

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"No, they havena. No colors, either, on their mast." It looked like there might be some activity on the ship out there, but the distance was too far to tell. "We've taken some precautions, if it does turn out to be trouble. And they'd be hardpressed to catch the Grey, even if our wind doesna hold as well as it is now." That was some pride in the schooner talking. It was also something of a fact -- the Lady Grey had a slim, narrow body with a sharp prow and a deep enough draft for stability. And that wasn't counting the massive fore-and-aft rigged sails that flew aloft.

Edited Date: 2009-09-19 11:36 pm (UTC)

From:

kirktastic.livejournal.com

"Let him go." Kirk rumbled unhappily. "There's better then that misfit, and he'll find out shortly enough."

"What about the ship, sir?"

"....keep along with it. I want ta see it's speed."

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"She's makin' sail to follow!" yelled one of the ABs, who'd been keeping watch all along the rails of the schooner.

Two men instantly pulled out their spyglasses -- Winslow and Lowe -- and one bounced a little on the balls of his feet because he'd offered his over to Nimoy. After a moment, the captain said, "She's got a full spread, and can run dead ahead of the wind."

"She's heavier, however, Captain," Lowe said, watching through his glass.

"Mm." Winslow thought on it for a long moment, then gave his orders. "Hold our course until we get that boat, then make all sail. It's going to be close, but he's making good speed."

"Aye aye, sir," both Scott and Lowe answered in unison.

All they could do was wait.

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cso-spock.livejournal.com

Spock stepped up beside Kirk, adjusting the baldric across his chest as he looked out across the ocean to where the life boat was floating away from the Enterprise and towards the other ship on the horizon. The smallsword was a pleasant weight against his hip, along with the flintlock in its holster resting just below his stomach along the wide leather strap.

"Following the ship is not necessary, Captain."

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Within hailing distance, he's barely be able to breathe. Just... not daring to believe that he'd made it this far. He fought to get enough air in to call out, and his call tapered uselessly once it hit his throat. Frustrated, terrified, and conflicted, he dragged enough of a breath and tried again.

The voice that rang back, however, cut through the air as though it were made for it; it would be hard to believe that it came from a man of only five and a half feet, if not for the fact it most obviously did: "Boat ahoy!" A standard hail. "Come alongside!"

Relief. Flooding, overwhelming relief. He became aware of a childish urge to punch the air, but ignored it and maneuvered the lifeboat as instructed. He was vaguely aware of the litany of "thankyouthankyouthankyou" pouring from his mouth; there was no way they could hear it, really, but there it was.

The man who had called to him didn't waste any time; the curious crew along the rails of the schooner threw a line over for Harold to climb up, even as the man barked back over his shoulder, "Coming aboard now, sir!"

He snatched at it like the lifeline it was, and gave a strange backward glance to the lifeboat he'd come to love. So many times he'd stowed things in it, the fantasy of escape bringing him the illusion that the boat was the only thing in the world truly his. A silent, split-second goodbye, and he scrambled his way up the line and to salvation.

"Secure!" the man yelled, then immediately turned to return to stand below the quarterdeck; another man joined him there quickly.

"Make all sail, gentlemen!" the fellow who had to be captain yelled from the quarterdeck above.

It became a flurry on deck; the crew pushed off the rails, and the two officers barked -- the one who had rescued Harold handled the mainmast, whilst the one who had come down to join him ran to the foremast. Shouts rang out in the approaching darkness as the officers ordered their respective watches -- setting stay's'ls, setting the gaffs, flying every stitch of canvas the Grey had aloft. A well-ordered crew, the deployment was swift; they were trimming quickly.

"Helm, ten to starboard!" the Captain cried out.

Harold stood. Some kind of freedom; he didn't know yet what he'd escaped to, but it was different and that had to be something. He stood with a thousand-yard stare and simply breathed. Eventually, he took a few careful steps to turn around and face the ship he'd called his home. Loss and relief in equal, wrestling measures.

[[OOC: This was written, in large part, by

allmhadadh, we put it together to save tag space.]]

Edited Date: 2009-09-20 12:32 am (UTC)

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"It's the Enterprise," Lowe said, once the sails were set, trimmed and the Grey was on her starboard tack. And that one name alone was enough to make the entire crew fall silent.

The Enterprise had quite a reputation. It wasn't all one-sided; she was considered a villain to the lawful side, and a more... noble vessel from the other. Kirk was known as being one of the best pirates to come along in quite a long time, both for his skills at taking vessels, and for his skill in charming his way through ports.

For a schooner, however, the ship was more the former than the latter.

"She outmans and outguns us," Winslow said, watching the ghostly white sails unnervingly off the larboard stern, closer by far than they had been.

"Aye, sir, but we can outrun her," Scott replied, a creeping edge of defensiveness in his voice for the vessel.

"Belay that, Mister Scott," Lowe said, though he didn't raise his voice to do it. "She's got the wind on her side; she'll likely not gain, but she's not going to disappear, either."

A square-rigged vessel like the Enterprise, even given how heavy she was, and even given that she wasn't as nimble, was still the best setup to run dead before a wind. The Grey could, on the other hand, sail far closer into the wind than any square-rigged vessel. But in this case, she had to tack, starboard and larboard, in order to keep ahead. It diminished the distance she could gain on speed alone.

It was, then, a stalemate.

"Go and see about the fellow we brought aboard, if you please," Winslow finally ordered, as he remained on the quarterdeck to watch.

"Aye aye, sir," came the reply.

Lowe and Scott both could not help glance back at the famous vessel behind them. And then they headed down to the maindeck to meet their new charge.

Edited Date: 2009-09-20 12:43 am (UTC)

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Harold didn't immediately turn to greet them. He barely registered that other people were on deck. He looked back on the Enterprise, not even blinking when the wind tossed his hair into his eyes.

Loss and triumph. Captain.

He closed his eyes for a long moment and turned. He opened them to the sight of two men who could, at a glance, be related. Dark hair, dark eyes.

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The shorter, and elder, of the two gave the newcomer an appraising look. A sharp, smart look. The younger was more openly curious, nearly a look of wonder.

"First mate Harold Lowe, and you're aboard the schooner Lady Grey of Cardiff," the elder finally said. His accent, for those who knew it, was Welsh, an almost sing-song note to it that seemed nearly at odds with the way he could bark from the stern and hit the bowsprit with his voice.

"Second mate Montgomery Scott," the younger added on, giving their rescue a quick bit of a grin, before schooling his features back to something more acceptable. Similar accent, but not nearly the same.

"What brings you to us?" Lowe asked, his even gaze never wavering.

Edited Date: 2009-09-20 12:56 am (UTC)

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Lady Grey. Harold thought it was perfect.

The odd combination of commanding and sympathetic was comforting, but he was still wary. He felt drawn in both directions; he wondered briefly which would win out.

He found a small optimistic smile for the one who had introducted himself as Scott, before turning a set jaw to the one who shared Harold's name.

That... was a rather large question, wasn't it?

Try an introduction instead. "My name is Harold Lee. I was pressed into service on the Enterprise after she took the merchant ship I served on. I saw your sails, and took a chance." He put out a hand. "Thank you. How can I help?"

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Lowe took the hand and shook, followed by Scott, then said, "Korean, correct? What are you rated for, then, Lee?"

Generally speaking, a man could go his whole life without seeing an Asian sailor, absent the Philippines. That being said, Lowe had indeed been to the Far East, and carried a good deal of respect for the cultures he was exposed to there, however limited his dealings.

From:

kirktastic.livejournal.com

"She might have something worth taking." Kirk said to Spock, tilting his gaze to his first mate. He looked to his crew and snapped, "Set us for as much speed as ye can get then everyone below deck! To oars!"

Another trick up her sleeve, one that few knew about, and it made Kirk grin at the sheer thought. The Enterprise had been outfitted for her lower decks to pack one hell of a surprise when she needed to overcome ships.

From:

cso-spock.livejournal.com

Again, with the sporadic hunting. The ship didn't look any different than any other ship that they might pass, but this one they had to plunder? Illogical.

Spock only left his side for the time necessary to organize the crew below deck for the oars, before he returned, and took the helm, steering to parallel the other vessel.

Kirk wanted the ship. So he would get it for him.

Re: Going for Grey

From:

allmhadadh.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-09-20 02:24 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

Well, that one shot his eyebrows up even as he was stepping back from the handshake. He nodded in the affirmative, glancing at Scott briefly before returning his gaze to Lowe. "Ordinary seaman, sir."

Harold decided to keep his mouth shut unless he was asked any direct questions. He didn't really want to volunteer that he was the Captain's pet; he feared the men in front of him would recoil at that knowledge, toss him aside.

"Please, allow me to repay this kindness, sir. Put my hand to whatever you will."

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"You'll have the starboard watch; we're down a man there. Mister Scott, if you would..." Lowe gave a firm nod, then turned and headed back up to the quarterdeck to keep watch on the vague, ghostly white sails behind them.

Scotty watched, a mild expression of worry, then turned to look back at Harold, and gestured, "Ahead, then, to the foc's'le. We lost a man three weeks ago, and we havena replaced him yet. Ye'll have his berth, though we'll have to outfit ye for gear from the slopchest. But pay's decent and ye'll likely not find a more fair ship. We're all hands right now, so as soon as ye have a look at where ye'll be sleepin', come back above and stand by the foremast." He wasn't quite so strict in tone as Lowe, not able to mask the curiosity in his voice, but he still had an officer's tone. "Have ye eaten, Lee?"

Re: Going for Grey

From:

haroldlee.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-09-20 02:34 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Going for Grey

From:

allmhadadh.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-09-20 02:42 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

With a nod, Leonard handed the spyglasses back and headed for down below.

Just as he'd thought - and if there was trouble brewing, if that really was a pirate ship, as he suspected, he wanted to be ready.

Bill and De looked up at him questioningly as he entered the room where their hammocks were strung up, amidst all the others. Leonard ignored them for long enough to kneel down and pull out the bag that held his meagre possessions.

Meagre except for this one family heirloom he had carried around with him since he'd abandoned his old life, not because he wanted to use it, but because it was stupid to assume he might not have to, someday.

The rapier's blade gleamed in the light cast by the oil lamps as he unwrapped it, still as sharp, still as deadly as it had been when his father had given it to him upon entering the Fleet.

He just hoped that if he had to use it, he'd remember those skills he hadn't used in over a decade. Stagefighting was... nothing like the real thing.

From:

canadianbill.livejournal.com

Bill's eyes went from the point of the rapier where it sparkled in the light filtering down into their sleeping quarters, to Len's face, and then back to the rapier. He had never had occasion to examine, or be shown, the contents of Leonard's rather mysterious bag of belongings, and he had certainly had no idea that a sword as magnificent as this one was among them. He wondered whether Leonard knew how to use it; and then immediately dismissed the thought - it was evident from Leonard's posture, the way he held the sword at a perfect balance in his hand, that he certainly did.

"What the hell are you going to do with that?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

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"Hopefully nothing," Leonard responded, as he sat down on one of the barrels they'd pulled together as makeshift chairs, keeping his grip on the sword even as he rested the flat of it against his leg.

"There's a ship on the horizon - not flying any colours, not responding to hails, and someone in a lifeboat was headed our way, probably getting on board about now," he explained. "And I'll be damned if that ship belongs to any fleet I've ever heard of."

From:

de-forest.livejournal.com

Great. Great. Just what De was worried about, unidentified ships on the horizon. Why couldn't anything ever go right?

But his thoughts about that were rather taken over by the fact that Len had a sword. A real one. Not a stage sword, they all had those, but this was a real sword.

"What on earth do you have a sword for, Len?" His tone was somewhat incredulous, disbelieving.

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"So I can defend myself, in the event of that becoming necessary?"

Leonard wasn't all that surprised, actually, that De had trouble accepting this - it wasn't as if he advertised that part of his life much.

"Used to be my grandfather's," he explained, "and I got it from my father the day I enlisted. I probably should have returned it, really, but for some reason I couldn't part with it. Some things you just... hold on to, even if they're no longer a part of your life, you know?"

From:

de-forest.livejournal.com

DeForest nodded; he understood the sentiments and reason why Leonard still had this sword - he had just been a little surprised that Leonard, of all people, had such an instrument in his possession. It was not something that he would have expected from his association with Leonard so far.

"You...think we'll be defending ourselves? Len. I didn't sign up for that Len. This was just meant to be a simple voyage, cross the sea, get jobs - no one said anything about having to defend ourselves against.." De scrabbled for the right words, panic rising in his throat "...against unknown ships!"

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