The commodore lowered the spyglass. "Pirates, if I've ever seen them," He handed the telescope to a nearby crewman. "Never mind what flag they're flying. No one in the Royal Navy would sail such a tub."
A few men exchanged nervous glances. "Should...should we open fire, sir?"
"I think not," The officer turned sharply on his heel away from the rail. "We're faster than she is and we've got better firepower. We'll deal with her if she ever catches up." And with that, he strode to his quarters.
(-o-)
The first mate lowered the spyglass. "Captain, ye may want ta take a look at this."
Captain Aston snatched it and raised it to his eye. A quarter league away, some of the navy sailors were making rude gestures in his direction and laughing themselves sick. The calm sea breezes carried some of their taunts to his ear and he reddened with anger.
"'Where's my chatot?'!" He exclaimed, throwing down the spyglass. "They think I carry a bloody bird on my shoulder?" He began muttering furiously to himself.
"What're yer orders, Cap'n?" The first mate stood carefully out of kicking range, lest Aston's anger become violent. "We can't catch up to 'er, not at this rate, anyway."
The corners of the captains mouth twitched upwards in the beginning of a smile. "No. We can't."
Carefully, deliberately, he pulled his honedge out of his belt and whispered a few words. Then he let go of the hilt and it sped toward the larger ship, blue cloth flickering in time with the waves.
It took only a minute or so until the pirates could hear the sounds of battle carried over on the wind. It was only a minute or so after that that the sword floated back into Aston's waiting hand.
An entire navy vessel had been defeated by one blade.
Aston wiped the honedge on a corner of his shirt, staining it red, before tucking it back into his belt. "Imagine," He chuckled. "A chatot on my shoulder." He kept chuckling, watching the still ship as the distance closed between them.