"Capt'n, frigates on starboard side!"
"Full sail! ... Orders, Capt'n?"
His first mate turned, looking to the taller yet younger male steering the ship. He was broud shouldered and of darker skin; a half breed. His hair stopped at his shoulders was black in color, half held up by a short string of leather. He was dressed in his Captain uniform, navy blue with white cuffs and trimming along with white trousers and moccasins.
"Take out Cressida's sails, sink the rest."
"Aye! You heard him men! Man the cannons!" Mr. Faulkner continued shouting commands, keeping the crew on their toes and ready for when Connor gave the order to attack.
The smallers ships sped forward as fast as the wind could carry them, heading straight for their target; the Aquila.
"Take cover!" His voice boomed over the sound of cannon fire, his men ducking behind the ship's edges to avoid damage as the enemey's cannonballs flew through the air, hitting the ships sides. Lucky, Connor had spared no expense in upgrading his ship with the best he could afford.
The enemey's fire ceased and his crew rose, Connor's hand raised in the air, his other still firmly gripped to the wheel.
"Wait for it...!" Faulkner called, watching the Captain readily as the crew below moved quickly to load the cannons.
It wasn't long until the smaller of the ships came into range, causing Connor to drop his hand and call the command. "Fire!" echoed him. "Fire!" The cannons fired, the momentome of force throwing the heavy weapons back from the ship's edge and into their secured ropes. The men scurried to reload as the heavy metals balls flew out over the calm waters and into the ships only a few hundred feet out, the cracking of the wood and panic echoing on the wind.
"Load the chains!" Connor commanded, returning his hand to a handle on the wheel, his eyes set on the Cressida.
"Load the chains! Aim for the masts boys!"
Connor looked out at the Cressida with determined eyes. "I want everything!" "You heard the man, full sails!" He had heard many rumors about the ship such as it belonging to slavers. Not only that, but the man wasn't picky about who he snatched up. It didn't matter if you were pale skinned, dark skinned or in between. If they were a child, a woman or an man. He'd take them and put a price on their heads and that did not sit well with Connor at all. He had been through this process before with his own people having been sold to government officials and the like.
"Fire!" He shouted again, the cannon's explosion echoing once more as the chained cannonballs flew through the air. Connor watched eargerly as they sliced through the masts and sails, the ship slowing in speed. He could hear the men shouting, preparing themselves for boarding. They weren't wrong to panic. Connor would show no mercy to these kind of men.
The Aquila took little time to catch up with their ship. "Secrue the ship! ..Hook us in! .. Tie those ropes!" Faulkner shouted, taking up arms as Connor and several other men made their way onto the other boat. They all knew their orders; occupy what was left of the crew while he took care of the Captain/Slaver. And while the fight was going on up top, the three Connor had chosen to go in and rescue the captured.
Connor made his way up the ship, towards the wheel, where the Captain stood with his sword at the ready. He appraoched the man, tomahawk in hand and dagger in the other. The two only looked at each other, circling another before both lunging inward. Connor blocked the brute's heavy blow with his tamahawk, using the weight of his body to swing the connected weapons away from him and outward into the open before ramming his dagger into the man's side. His oponent staggered back, looking down at the blood staining his hand. "You'll pay for that, boy!" He charged at Connor in rage, axe raised above his head. It wouldn't be the easiest thing to dodge, but it was possible to get out unscathed, for him anyway. Any other and they'd likely lose a limb. He stood still, his eyes focused on the blade itself, watching as it fell downward before dodging to the right. The blade skimmed his right shoulder and landed in the wooden floor panel, stuck. The man continued to hold the axe, grunting and cussing all the while he tried removing the wedged blade from the wood beneath him.
Zacharia and Thomas, two of the three Connor had choosen to help the slaves of the Cressida, were down below in the brigg helping the first few who had fallen ill or were weakened/beaten up while Grace helped lead the others capable of walking off the Cressida and onto the Aquila. The last group was just boarding when an explosion shook the ship free from theirs, causing several of them to drop into the water. Shreeks and cries echoed loudly as each one hit the water, stirring panic in the crew.
Connor had him pinned now, the Captain's back against the ledge. "You are the one who will pay." The man only laughed, taking out his flintlock gun and firing it off into the distance. He was confused for a moment, his brow lifting. Why waste a bullet? It wasn't until the ship shook that it clicked. The crew around the powder barrels flew in every direction, his own crew flying overboard or lying lifeless. Connor bit back his rage, just about to finish his job when the impact sent him stumbling forwad and into the Slaver infront of him.
"I think not boyyo." He laughed again, gripping Connor's shoulder and running his sword through the boy's side before shoving him away.
"Agh!" Connor staggered back, almost falling from the shove, but regained himself enough to take one final lung at the man, his tomahawk nestling deeply into the man's neck, taking his life. The final expression he wore was mostly of shock. He thought he had won and completely underestimated the young assassin. The native watched the man fall to the deck with a heavy thud as he staggered backwards, hand appling pressure to his wound before turning tail and returning to help the people that had fallen overboard.
"Connor!"
"How many have fallen?" He shouted from the Cressida's ledge.
"There were four, but we've rescued them."
"Then let's g-" Just as he was about to board the Aquila he was stopped at Thomas' words.
"They say there's another..and that she's in the Captain's quaters.."
"Prepare to sail." Thomas almost looked bretrayed when Connor spoke. They were just going to leave her? "Capt'n we can-"
Connor only raised his hand before turning his back on the Aqulia. He would find her.
"Connor you can't do it yourself! You're injured, you bloody dolt!" Robert clearly didn't approve of Connor's plans, but the boy continued on even as his vision blurred and his body fell numb.
Bodies were scattered on the deck, torn and bleeding. Some cried out for rescue while others took their last breaths. He walked past most of them without looking down, afraid he'd see a friendly face. He was right not to because when he couldn't fight the urge not to look upon the desctrution and death he spotted Borris. He was a native aswell, not from his tribe, but still a close and treasured friend. Connor crouched down beside him, taking his lifeless hand in his own before closing Borris' eyes and saying a few words in his native tongue before rising. He continued, his search coming to an end when he found and busted down the Captain's door. "Jeanne?!" He called out, but no response was given. "I'm here to help, not harm you." It was then that he heard movement, a slender, frail figure appearing out from behind the dressing pannels. She was quiet for a moment, studying the man before her. He was intimidating looking, his height and large shoulders enough to send anyone running for the hills. "You're hurt.." She spoke finally, moving carefully towards him, clearly concerned.
"I will last long enough to return to the Aquila. Come." He then turned and made his way out of the Captain's quaters, waiting momentarily outside for her to join him. Once she did he lead them to his ship where his crew waited in silence for his return.
"Bloody idiot.. he's gonna get himself killed.." The first mate continued as he held the wheel, steadying the ship until Connor returned.
Moments later, the pair appeared at the edge of the Cressida, the crew and rescued slaves letting out a cheer before helping Jeanne and their Captain back aboard.
"Welcome back, Capt'n."
"Let's go home."
...
The return home was smooth sailing, the weather co-operating with them.
"How're you holdin' up Connor?"
"I am fine, ."
"That gappin' hole in your side says otherwise.."
Connor continued to look on, ignoring his first mate's complaints. He could steer the ship fine even with a torn up side. "I will get to look at it when we return."
"Mighty fine idea, Capt'n." Though that did not stop his worrying. Connor had done little even to attempt to stop the bleeding. And with his worries vocalized there was silence, the Aquila making her way back into familiar territory; Davenport.
"Prepare to drop anchoir!" The men scrambled below to fill the order, the ship slowing in speed as it appraoched the dock.
"Drop anchoir!" Connor commanded, the ship soon coming to a halt beside the old wooden dock. With the ship docked, the men dropped the ramp and lead their passengers off with care, many still uncertain of the situation. The native couldn't blame them since this was all new territory and the last people that said "trust me" forced/sold them into slavery. Some weren't even so lucky and were just taken off the streets when no one was looking.
"Shall I call the Doctor or are you going to walk back?"
Connor gave him a lopsided smile, the answer obvious, as he moved himself away from the wheel, the only support he had, before following in prusuit of the others. He was doing fine up until the end of the dock, his legs giving out beneath him, causing him to drop to the ground. The dirt clouded around him momentarily before settling agian, his eyes half-lided and conciousness slipping. Had he actually cared about his limits as a human being Connor would've taken more time to care for his wound, but that wasn't him. He cared for others first than himself.
"Connor!" "Capt'n!" "Skipper!" Voices cried out, but they were all dull and far away to him. He was tired, his vision fading into blurred images before turning black.
"Thomas retrieve Dr. White and have him meet us at the manor." Mr. Faulkner ordered, rushing off the Aquila and to Connor's side. Zacharia followed him in presuit, helping lift Connor, as gently as they could, up from the ground and slinging both his arms around each of their shoulders for support. He wasn't the lightest person, which would make manouvering him a bit difficult for just the two of them. Not only that, but the hike back up to the manor wasn't going to be a walk in the park either; Connor being twice thier size and all.
"There's plenty of room in the wagon." Jeanne spoke, a slender hand gesturing to the horse drawn carriage. The two men looked at each other then to the carriage but before either could protest, the woman continued. "Some of the messieurs thought it a nice idea to stretch their legs. We have been sitting for quite some time afterall." She added a soft smile before turning to return to the carriage, the two men following behind with Connor. "If you insist Miss."
Jeanne hopped into the back and stood in the center of the small area of leg space, hands held out to help load Connor into the back. Carefully, they lifted him into the wagon, Jeanne resting his head on her lap as Zacharia moved to the front, climbed up onto the seat, took hold of the reins and headed out.
It was several hours into the next day that Connor awoke in a panic, his breath harsh and body soaked with sweat. 'Again..?' he thought, looking up at the cieling of his room. "When did-?" he began, the sound of his door opening catching his full attention. "..Old man?" His throat was dry and his eyes still heavy. He might have over done it a bit.. this time.
"Looks like you had an eventfull day yesturday." He spoke, his tone the same as always; low and unwavered. His eyes betrayed him though. Connor could see the worry in them... the fear that Achilles had lost him. He said nothing and instead tried to sit up, gaining himself a frown and a shot of pain up his side. "Lay down, you'll only make it worse."
"Thank you for the concern, but I am fine."
Achilles could only shake his head. What did you say to a stubborn, rock-headed boy like Connor without it resulting in a arguement? He let out a quiet sigh. "There is no rush to heal. The people you've rescued are fine and well taken care of. Ollie and his wife have put them up in their Inn for the time being."
"That is good to hear.."
"And yet you still sound troubled. What is it?"
"Jeanne.."
"What of her?"
"I have heard that name before, but cannot seem to recall from where.."
Achilles was the one to fall silent this time, moving his cane to his right before returning his weight onto it. "That matter can wait for now. You need rest."
The native nodded in response as he slowly eased himself back down onto his matress, his mentor turning to leave his room. Laying his head back onto his pillow, Connor went back to starring at his cieling, the woman's name haunting his mind.
A gentle knock on the door caused him to stir, his hand raising to brush away the sleep from his eyes as the door opened again, revealing a woman. Her skin was much like his own, but a shade darker. Her hair was black and eyes a beautiful golden brown. "Sorry to wake you, thought you might be hungry." Her tone was gentle, motherly and it was enough to tug at his heart strings; Reminding him of his mother.
"It is alright." He offered, his eyelids refusing to open fully, his hand still wipping at his eyes.
The woman moved closer to the bed, placing the tray she carried onto the desk by the window before making her way over to his bedside and helping him sit up; despite his dislike of being touched, Connor put that aside and allowed it this once. She was very gentle, making sure he was comfortable in his position before returning to his side with the tray. "Merci.."
Connor looked confused at her words, unsure of what was being said. The word itself sounded familiar, but he could not place the meaning. But before he could inquire as to what she meant she let out a small laugh. "Thank you. That is what Merci means."
"Oh.. I was only doing what was right."
"Not many would do what you did." She smiled again, placing a hand ontop of his. "Now, eat up. You need you're strength back if you're going to get back to work." Jeanne straightened up some before turning to leave.
"Thank you."