Andraste wasn't the fighting or truly heroic action sort by any standard. She fought when she had to, but she much preferred to speak her way out of compromising situations. She had some training with a sword but she hardly thought that her meager, below average skill would be enough to save her with one of Tortuga's best. Lucky as she was in melee fighting, she would not survive this one on one encounter. While she might have been unable to handle a large dragoon pistol, she was particularly accurate with the small two-barreled dueling pistol that she kept on her person, but that would most certainly hinder rather than help her. She didn't want to kill Geoffroi, she just wanted him to leave her alone. She wasn't a murderer but if someone else could take responsibility for his ultimate demise, Andraste was more than willing to let them have their way with him. She was above his base tactics anyway – if he wanted to fight then he should demand satisfaction and duel with her for his honor.
Seeing as that was never going to happen, she needed to buy herself time for the British Fleet to arrive and to do that she had to await Geoffroi's appearance and stall him. Whether it would work or not depended on how fast the legendary Commodore Norrington brought the HMS Dauntless to bear. It wasn't imperative that her crew escaped, but Geoffroi was her problem and she hated involving others in private matters.
The Captain went to her cabin to search for her letter of marque; she'd need it in order to save herself from the noose. She rummaged through her desk until she found the stamped paper and stuffed it quickly in a few sacks of cloth before placing into the waistband of her pants. Satisfied that she had all the information she'd need to escape trial, she made her way back to the helm and stood there tapping her fingers on the wheel until Geoffroi found his way aboard, brandishing both a cutlass and a malicious grin. He had come by a small rowboat.
"It's been a long time eh, me dove?" Geoffroi took a few steps forward and twirled his cutlass in a loop.
Andraste took out her own cutlass for posterity's sake and its unfamiliar weight almost forced her to drop it. She quickly brought her arm down so that the cutlass point was to the ground. "My dove?" she sneered. "Where are your friends, Geoffroi?"
Geoffroi leered, "right behind ye." For his French name, Geoffroi sounded nothing like a Frenchman. His accent was a common one and he slurred his words together in a way that was typically pirate. What he lacked in his verbal repertoire though, he made up in rugged good looks and a ruthless temper. With dark skin, green eyes and brown hair going slightly gray from age, he was a womanizer with a bad drink problem and a stench about him that would make a fly drop. Whether it was his smell, excellent sword work or cunning that left his enemies dead, no one really knew.
Because of this, the Artemis's captain knew much better than to turn around and look. There was a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, meaning that someone was behind her, but standing with her feet planted firm and a weapon in her hand she figured she could be quick enough to dive out of the way.
"It be nice to see ye again," continued Geoffroi. "I missed ye since our last 'talk.'"
Shuddering at the memory, Andraste gave a small peak towards Port Royale. The ships were moving out of the bay, and would be with her in a few minutes. Shifting her cutlass between her fingers, she had no choice but to continue on, to provoke Geoffroi into a fight or try and keep him occupied with a verbal sparring match. "If talk is what you can call it."
"Can't ye take a little pain?" Geoffroi moved forward until he was face to face with her. His breath reeked, her's was no better by any stretch of the imagination, but she wasn't the one exhaling her stench all over his face. Giving a grin filled with gold teeth, Geoffroi trailed his cutlass down one cheek and then up the other, pushing the skin down hard enough to cause discomfort but not enough to cause blood. He stopped at the edge of the large black hat Andraste adorned her head with. Andraste found his touches sickening.
"I can take pain but if you were any real gentleman, as you so claimed to me you were, you'd remove yourself from my personal vicinity. Now tell me, why on earth are you here?"
Geoffroi gave a low sounding growl. "Did ye not think me little plan perfec'? Here I lured ye into Port Royale, 'ere I'll leave ye, and 'ere ye'll 'ang for something ye didun do."
The Captain was not so surprised. She had guessed Geoffroi's plot, but not its intricacies. He had lured her into this part of the sea so he could destroy her when she was vulnerable. She had no means to defend herself, but surely he must have known that she'd have brought him into the custody of the British fleet? She had a letter of marque; she had a right to attack ships with discretion. Geoffroi did not. "You think you're very clever," purred Andraste, "but I know that the Dauntless has long nines. They'll blast your ships out of the water, mine is already sinking so it is of no concern to me."
Geoffroi only smiled and turned his back to walk away. "Oh Andraste, Andraste, Andraste. So little ye understan', how much ye still gotsa ta be learnin'!"
Andraste shook her head and made ready to use her weapon. Talking was out of the question now. The Dauntless may not reach her in time but it was in firing range. She needed Geoffroi on her ship when his own were blown apart. From there, he'd have to be taken with her and she could smile when she saw him hanging by the neck at dawn.
"Are you up for a little duel?" there, she had released the bait. Like any hunter, Geoffroi turned back to her; he raised his eyebrows at the alluring suggestion. "For old time's sake? We can work…on the stipulation when you beat me as you so often do."
Grinning wolfishly, Geoffroi nodded his head in agreement and put his sword to work, lunging forward and then thrusting and jabbing in subsequent turns. He feinted left and went right, then reversed his technique and dropped to the ground, rolling to his side and trying to come up and pierce the soft flesh of his opponent's belly. Every move he had ever learnt Geoffroi used to his advantage. He was the better swordsman and he found every weak spot, exploited every vulnerable point on Andraste's body. He teased her, giving sharp pokes to the spots he came in contact with, leaving small spots of blood that would soak through her white shirt into her black vest.
Andraste though, was not teasing. This was a game for her life and the life of her crew. She stepped back and he stepped forward, she twisted her body to thrust backward and Geoffroi merely sidestepped and tried to knock her cutlass away. There was no move that Andraste's limited skill could conjure that Geoffroi could not block or twist to suit his own devices. She parried a thrust to her shoulder and then dove across the deck of her ship, skidding on her side and then scrambling back to her feet to avoid the downward chop aimed for her neck. She twirled to the mast and lunged around it when Geoffroi's first mate headed her way. He ran straight into her weak kick, knocking him back a few steps but enough to get his feet tangled in some loose rope. His flailing overbalanced him and he plunged overboard into the sea.
Knowing that her luck was running thin, the Captain tried to put as much distance between her and Geoffroi. Of course this did not deter the older pirate, and he came charging. His cutlass twirling he moved far too quickly for the Rose to block or to parry; she was quite pinned. So it was that she found an accidental opening, she took it. Her cutlass hit the soft flesh of Geoffroi's face, and she tore down her sword, scratching out one of his eyes in the process. It gave her a slight advantage, now that she had partially blinded her opponent, but she did not have the time to savor her small victory. The clumsy first mate she had tripped had climbed his way back up, and now she was also dodging blows from him. As she turned to flee, he scored several swipes across her shoulders, cutting off some of her hair in the process and leaving a few shallow scratches.
Driven on by his vanity, Geoffroi was out for vengeance over his newly scarred face. He howled in rage and hurled himself forward, stabbing his cutlass deep into the Captain's thigh and tackling Andraste to the ground, knocking the hat from her head. Andraste screamed out in pain as she felt the blow from the blade. She lashed out beneath her enemy, trying to fend off the hands that reached about her throat. All she could do little to but claw and bite as would a wild beast.
It was at this time that the HMS Dauntless had readied her guns and was about to bombard the pirate ships in their bay with shot and cannons. Commodore Norrington gave the signal and the guns were loaded and fired. One of the cannon balls hit the Artemis's mainmast, crashing it down upon the deck; a few others breached the ship's planks and dropped straight down into the watery interior. A lucky one smashed into the quarterdeck, just short of Andraste's foot.
Both pirates were unaware of the damage the Dauntless was reeking on the Artemis, the largest of the three vessels in their range. Andraste was temporarily blinded by shards of wood and dust; Geoffroi was too beyond physical pain to feel it when a splinter impaled his leg. Both only realized what was happening when they heard guns, much closer, aiming at Geoffroi's ships. Two other ships of the fleet, the HMS Triumph and the HMS Moore had closed the gap and begun firing their smaller guns.
Andraste scrambled to her feet, forcing her legs to support her weight. Favoring her right leg, she tried hobbling to the side of the ship and was about to jump over when she was knocked down to the deck by a hard blow from behind. Her head bounced against the floorboards of the ship, she made out the silhouette of a man holding his gun by its barrel.
"Ta, dove," Geoffroi smirked, his one good eye frosted over with malice, the other sat in his skull bleeding. With the aid of his first mate, he picked his way though the cannon fire and headed back to his ships. The splinter that impaled his leg was no where to be found.
Andraste lost site of him, but knew that he would be gone once the Dauntless, Triumph and Moore crossed the gap. He would probably ride out the smaller sloop to his flagship that he'd have left anchored further down the coast. While still in its damaged conditioned, his little ramrods were damn quick, and as she pulled herself again to her feet she could already see it sailing away. There would be no chance for any of the British fleet to intercept Geoffroi, they could only fire on the swiftly retreating schooner or continue their bombardment of the Artemis, something they were happily obliged to do.
With as many holes as she did devilish ideas, the Artemis was taking on water fast. Already she was starting to tip on her side, shaking the balance from her Captain and tumbling her down the tilted deck of the ship. If given a few minutes more, her wooden hulk would be at the bottom of the bay sleeping in Davy Jones's locker. All the wildest stunts, all the most daring escapes that the ship had seen in its time at sea were nothing compared to this last voyage; the Artemis was sinking, the first of her three twins to do so. She would be left only to legend – The Artemis, personal ship of Andraste Morgan Rose, was no more.