Disclaimer: I don't own it, unfortunately
"All hands on deck, bracing both masts hard a starboard"
"Coils on deck and down to one turn"
"Haul away"
"2-6-heave, 2-6-heave"
"Steady on the main topgallant, we don't want her to snap"
"2-6-heave"
"That's it lads"
"Now I want 6 of you on the upper topsail before this blasted wind rips her to shreds"
"You there, haul away on the clews and bunts"
"Faster damn it, we're losing her"
"That's it, good work men"
"An extra ration of rum for the lot of you"
"We'll be there in no time if this wind carries on Captain"
"Yes, if it doesn't take our sails with it"
Captain Tom Pullings heaved a sigh of relief as he climbed in to his cot. His first day in command of the Acheron had been trying to say the least. Around half of his crew were injured from the battle to capture the ship and the other half were being violently seasick. It'd be a miracle if he didn't end up on the floor at least twice that night the blasted boat was throwing itself around so much.
He'd been delighted when Jack had given him command of this fine vessel, but that had quickly turned to despair. The Acheron was surely a cursed ship. They had destroyed the main mast in capturing her and consequently she was sailing like a drunken old woman. The coarse was riddled with holes from musket fire and there wasn't a spare on board. The French crew must have thrown it overboard when they knew they were going to lose the battle. His men were working flat out to repair the damage but having the sail down was making the ship as unstable as hell. Only the Mizzen mast had emerged totally unscathed. To make matters worse the French prisoners were contenting themselves by making the most awful racket imaginable. He could hardly hear himself think. With any luck they would find an Island tomorrow with a few good trees they could make a new mast from, but he doubted it.
