Dauntless/Pearl
She wasn't going to stand for this. The impertinent little wench! Flashing sail, plunging through the waves, her men shouting and waving across the distance as if they thought themselves better than a properly painted and turned-out king's vessel. And that captain of hers - oh, the nerve of that cad, saluting the Commodore from the mizzentop before he scrambled off to the wheel.
The Commodore was better than that, she thought proudly. Her captain was a man of little distinction, but today the Commodore sailed aboard. The Commodore was noble and true. The Commodore would not be baited. The Commodore...
...looked up into the Dauntless's billowing sails, shading his eyes against the sun. Shoulders squaring, he strode to the helm, calling out orders, and politely relieved Captain Martin from his post.
She felt the shift, the new freedom as lines were tugged and yards shifted, so surprised that she barely noticed.
The Commodore frowned, stroking his hand along a spoke of her wheel and glancing at the Pearl up ahead. "Slow to respond," he murmured.
His words stung along every inch of her dignified bulk. Slow, was she? She'd show them all, the proud Commodore and his insolent rival, and most of all that flirty creation frolicking upon the blue sea.