Notes: I was kind of disappointed that the Aquila wasn't one of the legendary battles in Rogue, or at least mentioned. If she gave the Templars such problems, you'd think Shay would've been involved in wrecking her. And I know it wasn't Shay that took her out but... *cough*
Chapter 3: The Ghost of the North Sea
The man o' war Shay had dispatched to India never returned. He hadn't expected it to, not after the Assassins got a hold of his plans for the Templar fleet. Whether the Soleil had been sunken or taken was an entirely different question, but not a priority. The Aquila, however, had used up the last of her luck.
Shay paced the length of the Morrigan's deck restlessly. He was aware of Haytham watching him out of the corner of his eye from where he waited at the helm, but chose to ignore him. He had one hand resting on the Morrigan's wheel, and the other on the the hilt of his sword. That, Shay knew, was an unconscious habit that he himself shared – gained from years of necessary paranoia. Gist was on Haytham's right, looking suitably cowed and obviously avoiding the Grandmaster's eye. He must have gotten quite the shaming from Haytham in regards to his own shenanigans. Speaking of which, Shay knew the dreaded conversation with Haytham about his wreckage of a mental state couldn't be avoided much longer. However, as much as he loathed to admit it, he was thinking a bit more clearly since they'd discussed it.
Shay cleared his throat loudly. "Gist, get down here." He ordered, inclining his head toward the docks where two men were approaching. They were Thompson and O'Reily, the captains of the Marie and Alouette, two of the three Frigates in the Templar fleet – 'liberated' from the French, of course. Shay hopped down from the deck of the Morrigan and landed easily on the docks beside the two men. Gist followed, stumbling a bit as he climbed down.
"O'Reily's told me that Baker got himself killed on a run-in with the Aquila last month. That means the Cherise has no captain. But, I need all three o' them for this to work, because we're goin' after our 'ghost o' the north sea'. Gist, I need you to captain the Cherise temporarily. Haytham will serve as my first mate for now." Shay explained, and the other two captains nodded to show their understanding.
"This is goin' t'be a risky battle, but she en't goin' to know what hit her." Shay continued. "The Morrigan will serve as a flagship, and the three o' you will flank her. If we can keep her from hittin' and runnin', we'll make short work o' her with our combined firepower."
"This is a terrible idea. You need me on board the Morrigan." Gist complained, glaring at Shay in annoyance. Shay just ignored him. He had this all thought out, and he was not going to argue about trifles this late in the plan.
"Just do it; the Cherise is docked at the waterfront. Keep her behind the Morrigan. Thompson, keep the Marie to port, and O'Riely will keep the Alouette at my starboard side. Don't break formation unless we need t'box the Aquila in, or I tell you otherwise. Oh, and if one o' you cock robins puts a hole in the Morrigan's hull, I'll put one in your skull. Watch where you're aiming; it might get tricky."
"Full sail! Get up that riggin'!" Shay barked, turning the wheel hard to starboard to avoid a nasty chunk of ice. The sky was clouding over, and the air had a bitter chill. It would snow soon, probably before morning. They had to press on before they lost visibility. It wasn't going to be an easy fight as it was; the last thing they needed was to sink each other because they couldn't see through the damned snow. It didn't matter, assuming Shay timed it right, they would run across the Aquila shortly after dawn of the next day. She'd left Halifax a day ahead of them, and as far as they knew, the crew had no idea they were being pursued. ...Not that Shay was taking that for granted.
"How long do you intend to avoid the inevitable, Shay?" Haytham asked, folding his arms across his chest for warmth. He was obviously not handling the cold very well, but never once complained. The crew answered to him without a the slightest hesitation as well. He had that air of authority about him and if he made an order, they scrambled to obey. Shay was beginning to wonder if he'd need to remind them who was actually their captain.
"Mills, take the wheel. Martin, fill in for Haytham. Just keep heading due east, and come get me if anythin's evenly slightly amiss." Shay called, and two men came bounding to the upper deck. Mills, a seedy character, yet a lethal marksman, took the tiller. Martin, a muscular beast of an Irishman gave Haytham a curt nod and took his place. Both of them had been members of the Morrigan's original crew when Shay was still an Assassin, but they owed their loyalty exclusively to Shay, regardless of his allegiances. He saved both their arses from being put down like dogs for smuggling. They'd fight to the death if he asked it of them, and they'd do so without question or complaint.
"Shall we?" Shay asked, gesturing for Haytham to follow him. He threw open the doors to his cabin, and took a deep breath of the warm air that felt like fire after being in the cold for so long. With a sigh, he plopped himself down in the chair behind the large mahogany desk and neatly folded the map of the north Atlantic that was laid out across it. Haytham sat down across from him and fixed Shay with an expectant stare.
"I'm not sure where to begin. So I guess I'll just start with the hardest part: Liam." Shay said, and leaned forward against the desk, resting his head in hands. "I don't want to to talk about this, but I have to, or nothin' will make much sense. Liam and I were... Well, we were lovers once. If you tell a soul that, I swear I will shoot you in the cock."
Haytham didn't say a word, though he did make a small sound of surprise at the revelation.
"We grew up together. My father was a sailor, and his was a farmer. When my ol' man died in a storm at sea and I had nowhere t'go, Liam looked out for me. I worked for my keep, but I got into a lot o' trouble too. Bar fights and the like. Liam was always saving my arse. I took more'n a few good beatin's back then. Eventually, times got harder. Liam already worked for the Assassins, but kept me out o' it to protect me – until we decided we were tired of livin' like beggars and moved to the homestead. They were like family t'me, Hope and Liam both. Even Achilles, before he sent me after that blasted artifact. Liam taught me to fight and shoot proper, and it was Hope that taught me stealth. Achilles gave me my first set o' pistols." Shay continued, hating dredging up the memories of happier times. Haytham just let him talk, keeping his comments to himself.
"Killin' Hope almost did me in. She was always hard on me, but she was just pushin' me to be my best. Y'see, Hope didn't waste time or energy scolding people she didn't like, that couldn't better themselves. She knew what it was like to live in the gutter, too." Shay explained, recalling Hope's face and that pretentious smirk she reserved for when she bested him in a sparring match.
"Liam... He..." Shay faltered and looked away from Haytham. "For as long as I care to remember, he was a part o' my life. I wished I could be half the man he was; he kept me grounded. I doubt I would've survived those years without him. The thing, though, is that it's killin' me that I never really said goodbye. I just sneaked into the manor, stole the manuscript and made a run for it. I always thought it was Liam that shot me, come to find it out it was Chevalier and that Liam didn't even try to stop me. Liam was smart, and preferred to do things with as little bloodshed as possible. Maybe he could've even seen things from our point o' view. I never gave him that chance."
"It was a risk you could not afford to take." Haytham reminded him.
"I know that, but it don't change the fact that I can't sleep without seein' his face, or even just bein' here... He was my first mate when I took this ship from the British that attacked Chevalier's Garfaut. Seeing him dyin', it..." Shay just shook his head and fell silent.
"You mustn't blame yourself for this, Shay. It is not - "
"Captain! The Aquila's just opened fire on the Alouette!" Martin shouted, banging on the door to the captain's cabin. Shay swore vehemently and made a beeline for the door with Haytham hot on his heels. He collected himself as quickly as he could, it wouldn't do to be distracted by long-gone nostalgia now.
"Bloody hell, where did she come from?! She should be hours ahead of us!" Haytham hissed as Shay shoved Mills away from the wheel, and barked orders to the crew.
Somehow, they managed to regain their formation and trapped the Aquila between the Cherise and Alouette. The Morrigan and Marie rained mortar shot down on her like the hammer of God. It put more than a few holes in her hull, but the Alouette took a nasty hit from a volley of heavy shot and and was sinking fast. Shay managed to bring the Morrigan around and got most of her crew on board while Haytham gave the commands to keep firing on the Aquila.
The fight took hours, but some well-aimed mortar from the Cherise snapped the Aquila's main mast off right at the base. The scout in the crow's nest fell screaming to his death, and at least four of the crewmen were crushed under the mast as it fell. Shay recognized the first mate, Faulkner, as he managed to avoid taking a shot from one of the Morrigan's puckle guns. The Aquila's captain wasn't so lucky. It took his head clean off and blew their powder store to smithereens in one go. Faulkner scrambled to his feet and took the tiller, calling out orders to fire everything they had on the Morrigan. That, at least, went according to plan.
Shay knew that once they recognized the Morrigan with both he and Haytham on board, that they would do everything they could to sink her. It was the perfect bait. It would get them the Templar's best ship and the lives of both the Grandmaster and the turncoat that had laid waste to their brotherhood – all in one fell swoop. It'd be worth it, even if it killed them all. Well, that was what they were thinking anyway. Unfortunately for the Assassins, Shay had no intention of letting them take him to Hell with them. When Faulkner brought them along broadside, it left them wide open to a volley of heavy shot from the Cherise.
"Full sail! We need speed!" Shay yelled, turning the wheel hard in the direction of the badly damaged Aquila. One more good hit, and she was as good as gone. "Brace!" Shay howled, holding tight to the wheel. Haytham just managed to grab onto the railing in front of him as the Morrigan's ice ram slammed into the Aquila's hull at full force. The splintering of wood and the hopeless screams of the enemy crew that had been in the line of fire filled the air.
"Give me all the sail we have!" Faulkner commanded, wiping blood from his face where a piece of debris had struck him. Through shear luck, he managed to steer the Aquila clear of mortar fire from the Marie and a strong gust of wind propelled the listing, wreckage of a ship out of range for all three of the Templar vessels. Haytham swore more obscenely than Shay thought him physically capable of.
"Let her go." Shay said, bringing the Morrigan back on course from where the rogue wind that saved the Aquila had nearly blown her over. "Full stop! Pull back!" Shay hollered, and the crew grudgingly obeyed.
"We almost have her!" Haytham snapped, betrayal in his voice.
"It don't matter. There's not a shipwright in the world that can fix that. They might be able to ground her somewhere and save themselves before she takes on too much water, but the Aquila's little more'n a floatin' scrap heap. ...If she stays floatin'. They know they're beat, and they don't have the resources to replace her." Shay explained, motioning for Gist to hang back as the Cherise blew past the Morrigan, still in pursuit. He must have gotten the sign, as the frigate slowed to halt beside the Marie a little ways ahead of the Morrigan.
"Very well. As long as they stay out of our affairs, there's hardly any point in slaughtering her crew." Haytham agreed with a curt nod. Shay looked at him as he stared straight ahead, at the horizon that was blurred out by hazy, low-hanging snow clouds. There were holes torn in his cape from a few narrowly avoided musket balls from when they'd gotten in shooting range of the Aquila, and his hat had been blown off by the sudden gust earlier. It was by far the most disheveled he'd ever seen the Grandmaster.
"You know, Shay, I really hope you don't handle your women the way you handle your ship. You're awfully forceful with her." Haytham said with a smirk and Shay only stared at him, open-mouthed as a few of crew that were close enough to hear burst into hearty laughter. Shay thanked whatever Gods there were that Gist hadn't heard it. He'd have had a field day with that one. ...After he, like Shay, had been rendered utterly speechless by the rather uncharacteristic comment.
"Aye, and which city has the fairest lasses? New York or Boston?" Shay asked, fondly recalling a completely innocent conversation he'd once had with Liam that led to a heated debate over whether or not the whores in Havana were better in the sack than the ones back home in New York. Not that Liam would ever admit to having participated in said conversation. Then he thought of how Haytham was standing just where Liam always did, and wondered how in God's name that had come to be. ...Even if it was only a temporary arrangement.
"That's not something I ever thought of much," Haytham admitted after a long pause. "I rarely have the time to waste on trivial things."
"I hope you don't treat your women like 'trivial things'..."
"That's quite enough, Shay!"