[Graham Moore]

[OOC: This thread follows "Red Sky at Morning" and happens before / during "A Goat Ruse"]

Standing on the quarterdeck, Graham was bent over a map that had been placed on a makeshift table. All around him, various devices of navigation lay scattered, bearing evidence of the intensity of the last few hours.

When Thorne had ordered him to chart a course in pursuit of the dimly lit ship that they had discovered earlier on, Graham had immediately set to the task, despite his exhaustion. All morning long, the tiredness in his very bones had dogged him, but he had pushed on, disregarding his body's needs yet again. He simply could not afford to be weak in the current situation and that had been enough reasoning for him to keep going.

It was a fortunate coincidence that the early morning haze had obscured them from their quarry's eyes for almost an hour while they cautiously followed the faint light in the distance. It had allowed Graham to establish the stranger's most likely route by dead reckoning and he had not been surprised to find that the ship was headed straight for the treacherous waters of Baja Mar.

Once the light of the rising sun had lifted the haze and the advantage of following unnoticed was gone, they had had to drop behind until the other ship had disappeared out of sight. Anticipating this, Graham had gone over his calculations numerous times, but had been endlessly fretting about it. If he was wrong, if there had been a mistake in his calculations (and since he had been forced to base them on assumptions, it was very well possible), they could easily lose their target without even noticing it. Worse still, once they entered the maze of islands and bays, was the danger of stumbling inadvertently on the other ship, which would have effectively ruined their cover and advantage.

So, in addition to worrying about navigating in these dangerous reefs, shoals and cliffs, they also had to proceed with caution, often sending out men in boats to scout the next bends and bays of an island. Graham had placed two men at the bow, taking soundings every bell, and every man up in the rigging, the lookout and even down on deck had been instructed to keep their eyes open. His two remaining mates had enforced his orders with even greater rigor than usual, but Graham did not want to ponder upon the fact whether this had anything to do with Hardwick's demise.

And yet, despite his precautions, they had nearly met disaster when one of their scouting boats had hurriedly returned before noon to report the other ship anchored just around the next bend and that it was indeed the Sea Hound. Thorne had immediately ordered to heave to, in order to avoid being spotted, but the waters they found themselves in were particularly shallow and they had avoided running aground by a hair's breadth.

When they had finally found a cove which could hide them sufficiently in proximity to the pirate ship, Graham had wanted to set right to improving his maps and establish possible courses for the various possibilities of the upcoming battle, feeling the need to ensure that he would not make a navigational error in the heat of the fight in these dangerous surroundings.

But now as he was looking at the maps, the lines and dots of the islands danced in front of his eyes and blurred into each other. Now that the excitement of the nautical challenge was over and they were back to waiting, he felt the exhaustion of his body even more keenly. With a deep, weary sigh, he rubbed a hand over his face and turned to find Lt. Legge or the captain. Perhaps he would be allowed some rest during the calm before the storm.

[Daniel Hedge]

Daniel had come above deck for the sake of fresh air. Another man had passed away overnight and the sick bay stunk of rot; it was a bad idea for anyone to stay there for too long, breathing that air. Earlier in the hour he had even given Hendrik a slight reprieve so that his stomach would calm down some.

Coming up on the quarterdeck he spotted Mr. Moore leaning over various navigational instruments, obviously hard at work. Or maybe not anymore? He appeared to rub his face wearily and then, to the Doctor's surprise, he turned as if expecting some one to be in front of him! Well perhaps he had been expecting someone else?

As it were, Daniel greeted him with a friendly smile and nod.

Meanwhile, Daniel's eyes took in the man in front of him. Mr. Moore was exhausted, mentally and physically. He wanted nothing more than to insist that the man take a break and sleep for a time, but he knew his place and the Sailing Master would not have taken kindly to such a "command".

[Marina Costa]

This morning had passed in a strange way. There were lots of things to do, messages to convey, and the anticipation of a great battle was floating in the air. Now, the new acting midshipman was on the deck, attempting to find something more to do. And it wasn’t difficult at all, when everybody was busy…

She saw Mr. Hedge and she came closer, apologising as if it was her fault:

"I am sorry, Sir, that I'll be able to help you only after the battle is over. I am an acting midshipman now."

Marina looked in the same direction with the doctor and she saw how tired Mr. Moore was. She was also aware about how severely wounded he was, and probably affected by Mr. Hardwick’s death. As if she wasn’t… She had taken Mackie from there some time before, and tried to feed him, to give him water, exactly how his late master had wished when he had entrusted Mackie to her care.

But now the cat was probably sleeping somewhere below deck, while she was on the deck, trying to get accustomed with the idea – and the duties – of being a midshipman. Well, she knew clearly one of the duties, and it matched what she liked too, so she approached the sailing master, saying politely:

”How can I help you, Sir?”

[Daniel Hedge]

Costa approached the two men in an almost apologetic fashion. Daniel's suspicions were confirmed when the boy addressed him in his typically humble fashion.


"I am sorry, Sir, that I'll be able to help you only after the battle is over. I am an acting midshipman now."

"Ah, then congratulations are in order, Costa. Don't worry about that now, your hands will stay busy, as will mine." His comment had not been directed toward anything in particular, but an observer may have noticed Daniel's eyes flicker towards Mr. Moore as he finished speaking. There were far to many people in his condition on this ship. A battle, even two, will not be well received and the sick bay will be filled to capacity within hours if they engage the target ships soon. So much blood to still shed... was it really all this necessary?

Daniel's thoughts were projected on his face. He was tired as well, but more mentally than physically. He was here to help, but many people on board would not except his most often proscribed remedy- patience.

Costa was a good lad, though. That was why he had wanted him in the first place! But the look of longing to be helpful that he gave Mr. Moore... what did it remind Daniel of so much? The boy had certainly taken the strongest liking to the two men whose hands were most involved in navigation, was that what he really wanted to do?

He was talented at many things, it seemed, but Daniel observed his interaction with the tired and broken Sailing Master had a spark in it.

"Putting the lad to work for you might be a good idea, Mr. Moore. Could take some things off of your hands, and maybe even get you off you feet," he added with an amused smile.

[Graham Moore]

[OOC: I sincerely apologize for being late to this!]

In his weariness, Graham had not heeded where he was going, and thus nearly bumped into the doctor when he had made up his mind to find the captain or the first officer. His irritation with himself and the exhausted state he was in clearly evident in the abrupt way he had left his post, Graham now smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Dr. Hedge, I did not see you."

Noticing Hedge's scrutinizing look, he was about to make a sarcastic comment about being on his way to bed already without the doctor's advice, when at that moment Costa appeared, as bright and eager as always and not a hint in his face that he had been up all this time, too, assisting Graham with the navigational instruments that he could not handle in his invalid state.

Graham observed the doctor's face as Hedge was complimenting the lad on his promotion to midshipman. The weariness in there spoke volumes about Hedge's anticipation of the coming battle and his experience with previous ones. Again, Graham found his own emotions mirrored by the doctor and it warmed his heart a little. Everyone else in the Navy always seemed so eager on battles.

Just then, the doctor said, "Putting the lad to work for you might be a good idea, Mr. Moore. Could take some things off of your hands, and maybe even get you off you feet."

A quiet snort of amusement escaped Graham as he answered, "And that is exactly what you would like, isn't it, Dr. Hedge? Somebody to sweep me off my feet and put me to bed finally. But I think I might actually follow your advice for once."

Turning to Costa and growing serious again, he stated, "Costa, I will entrust you with improving these maps. Note down the necessary amendments. And I have another task for you as well, or rather an exercise," a slight smile tugged on his mouth again as he considered the lad for a moment before continuing, "considering the facts of our future engagement with either the pirates or the Spaniards, or possibly both, find the best way to navigate in these waters without endangering the ship unnecessarily from shoals and the like or the enemy's fire. I will expect you to present your results to me in a few hours time."

[Marina Costa]

The new doctor was a true gentleman. Fortunately, he didn’t mind that Marina could help him only after the battle - because she obviously would. By contrary, he congratulated her, sounding sincerely.

”Thank you very much, Sir! I promise to come and help you as soon as I can,” she answered, meeting his gaze.

Then she looked with concern at Mr. Moore, who seemed more in need of rest - opinion shared by Dr. Hedge too, as he intervened in her favour. The sailing master smiled, first teasing the doctor, afterwards admitting the wisdom of his advice, and asking for her assistance. For one moment, her heart had stopped beating, when realizing how much he was trusting her. She would try to be at the height of the responsibility

”I’ll do it, Sir! Thank you for your confidence in my skills, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” she answered.

Improving a map through sounding the depth and paying attention to the many obstacles here around was not as difficult for her as calculating the best route without mathematical errors.

Her face all crimson, she took everything needed and started working, with a frown of concentration. Too many honours for her lately… and her main desire, as stated, was not to let down anyone who believed in her capability.

[Daniel Hedge]

”Thank you very much, Sir! I promise to come and help you as soon as I can.

I’ll do it, Sir! Thank you for your confidence in my skills, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,”

Of coarse the lad would take a compliment and continue to worry about his amount and quality of work. Even after Mr. Moore had entrusted a heavy job to the boy it still seemed like he felt he wasn't doing enough to help.

"Lad, you'd be wise to not worry about what you'll be wanted to do after the battle, or even after this job here. You have plenty of energy, take care not to stretch it too thin," Daniel warned him. Mr. Moore looked exhausted, but proud of Costa and his talent in Moore's own field.

Turning again to Mr. Moore as the boy began his work, Daniel felt a tiredness sweep over him as if it were contagious. This battle seemed like so much. It really wasn't his place to question the orders of his superiors but... would the price be worth it?

"Mr. Moore I have great confidence in the decisions of my superiors but... from one man to another: is 'Steadfast' in any order to be entering a major, maybe two, battles so early? Granted, I have my own opinions on the matter, which I'm sure the Captain or First Lieutenant would not appreciate, but I am simply curious of yours if you care to share."

Daniel had grown up with military ideas pounded into him since he was young, but unjustified bloodshed was one thing that never sat well with him. In Mr. Moore, he felt a kinship of ideas, perhaps this conversation would be better received than in other circles?

[Graham Moore]

Graham was about to excuse himself to the doctor and continue his search for the captain to request some rest, as he was rather worried about making a mistake later on if he kept pushing his exhausted mind.

The doctor's words made him halt his steps, though. Observing Hedge thoughtfully for a moment, Graham wondered how he should answer that question, since it was not something he himself deemed worthy of consideration. He had always been more focused on dealing with the situation at hand, not fret about it.

"And what would you have us do, doctor?" The frown on Graham's face betrayed his weariness as well as frustration with that topic. "Follow the Sea Hound around, until we're all able again, squandering our supplies and the opportunity of catching them unaware and possibly weakened in the meantime?"

He paused, still pondering Hedge, and his voice and expression grew softer as he continued, "No, Dr. Hedge, to be honest, I do not think that we're in the best shape for what might well turn into a vicious battle. But we have our orders, and we're here now. Nobody said that following the Sea Hound into her home waters would be an easy task, so we'll just have to make do and give all we've got to achieving our goal."

Graham turned to leave, but there was still something that he felt he needed to add. "And doctor, if I were presented with the choice to lie low and allow myself to heal, and the opportunity to bring this scum to justice, " he pointed with his finger in the direction of the pirates' mooring place, his voice growing unintentionally fierce with his emphasis of the words, "I would always choose the latter, no matter the prize to me."

He broke off, realizing he might have offended Hedge, but he did not want to take back his words, they were meant honestly by him. Slightly embarrassed by his outburst, Graham turned his head away from Hedge and added softly, "Trust me, what they would do to others if left alone, or what they might have already done to their victims, is by far worse than any battle."

[Daniel Hedge]

"No, Dr. Hedge, to be honest, I do not think that we're in the best shape for what might well turn into a vicious battle. But we have our orders, and we're here now. Nobody said that following the Sea Hound into her home waters would be an easy task, so we'll just have to make do and give all we've got to achieving our goal."

Daniel silently agreed with the man and thought the conversation might end there, at least for the sake of avoiding speaking an opinion that his superiors might not welcome. However, Mr. Moore's face seemed to change as a dark thought crossed it. Surprised by the sudden change, Daniel merely listened.

"And doctor, if I were presented with the choice to lie low and allow myself to heal, and the opportunity to bring this scum to justice, " he pointed with his finger in the direction of the pirates' mooring place, his voice growing unintentionally fierce with his emphasis of the words, "I would always choose the latter, no matter the prize to me."

"Trust me, what they would do to others if left alone, or what they might have already done to their victims, is by far worse than any battle."

Mr. Moore ended his last statement by turning his face from Daniel. What could have happened that gave this man such a blackened voice? It occurred to the doctor that, despite all his years in the field he never managed to grasp the complexity of a tortured mind, whether by external or purely internal forces. Naturally, Daniel preferred to not fight when able. It just seemed like an unnecessary sacrifice when life cost so much. The things that pushed a man to hate another's existence with such intensity... Amazing.

Very well, he would push no more. But, perhaps... "I see your position, and I'll respect it. However, Mr. Moore, if my sense holds any or no weight, you may wish to look into some alternate means of healing.

Sometimes, actively fighting an infection is not always the best course or action. Sometimes, all that's needed is rest."

With that, he nodded towards Mr. Moore, bidding him adu, and retreated back to his sickbay. Walking into the room, the soft whimpers of infection and disease met him with a grueling stench. Still, he thought as he rinsed his hands and sat down to work on an old infected bullet wound, There appear to be worse things than scars of the flesh.

[Captain Jonathan Thorne]

Thorne had been profoundly cross when Steadfast had nearly hulled herself in heaving-to along the reef. The sailor responsible for casting the line had received a glower that might have peeled paint, promising that if the unfortunate salt should survive the coming battle, he'd have Thorne's stern displeasure to face. In any other situation he'd have the man clapped solidly with a hard bit of rope for his stupidity, but now was not the time to lower morale or cause unneeded noise. The cliffs of the cove would likely amplify any sound, signaling their presence to their quarry.

So Thorne had retreated to his cabin and his charts of the isles – not to rest, as would be wise this soon before the battle – but to plan. He doubted he could sleep if he wanted to. Sleep seemed impossible when the fever was on him, and it was on him now with a bloody vengeance. His heart beat like a war drum in his chest and he felt restless and full of energy. A glance in his shaving glass showed a slightly disheveled man with a burning flush on his cheeks and a peculiar brightness in his eyes; he scarce recognized himself. He wanted to laugh, though he didn't quite know why. He felt giddy and excited as a bridegroom; he was yearning and frightened and filled with dread and anticipation all at once and it felt as if his mind raced any further his head might burst open and all his thoughts would come pouring out like Athena from Zeus' skull.

It was exhausting. It was invigorating.

Death loomed over his little ship and all her crew and in some strange way, the shadow of that spectral hand made him feel alive in a way he rarely chanced to feel anymore. It made him feel ten years younger; it made him feel as old and immortal as the earth.

Finally, he rolled up the chart. He'd thought through every last contingency, he knew it. In his mind's eye he'd seen every possible arrangement and alignment of ships. Staring at the map any longer he'd simply drive himself mad. So he'd prepared himself. He'd shaved, dressed, and donned his coat and hat. He'd buckled on his swordbelt and his pistols, making doubly sure that both were loaded. He'd even tucked a knife into his boot – just in case. Looking in his shaving-glass once more he saw a captain in place of the disheveled man from earlier – but a feverish captain still.

No matter.

Downing the last cold sip of coffee remaining from his breakfast, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and strode back on onto his deck. "Any movement on the Hound's part?" he demanded from an exhausted-looking Moore.

[Graham Moore]

Graham, who had just turned away from Hedge to leave the desk, involuntarily tensed as he heard the captain's voice before he even saw him. Cursing his tiredness for his inattention, he straightened in a vain effort to hide his exhaustion and replied, "No sir, they are still anchored at the same spot, though something seems to be going on. Lt. Legge sent out a boat to gather more intelligence on their movements, but the men haven't returned yet."

Looking at Thorne, Graham could not help but envy the man for the energy which exuded from him. The thought of the coming battle seemed to have invigorated the captain and his palpable enthusiasm for engaging the pirates was in stark contrast to Graham's own depressed, exhausted state.

Painfully aware of the difference in their response to the situation despite their mutual hatred of the pirates, Graham fought with himself for a moment. It was hard for him to even have to admit to himself that he could go on no longer, but stating it to his commanding officer was as if admitting defeat. Still, he knew that there was no way around it.

"Captain,...", Graham hesitated, quite unsure how to phrase his request, "if there is no other pressing matter, I would like to take the chance to get a bit of rest. I am sure that the pirates don't intend to move until the Spaniards arrive and I would leave the deck in Mr. Costa's capable hands."

[Captain Jonathan Thorne]

"No sir, they are still anchored at the same spot, though something seems to be going on. Lt. Legge sent out a boat to gather more intelligence on their movements, but the men haven't returned yet."

Thorne nodded. "I hope they keep damn well out of sight," he muttered. All the intelligence in the world on the Hound would be nil if she spooked and fled, or engaged before the time was right. The pirates would have eyes out for the Spanish ship; he hoped those eyes were too peeled to the horizon to notice a jolly boat skulking around the coast.

"Captain..." Moore interjected into his train of thought, requesting the chance for rest.

Thorne took a more critical look at Moore; the man was pale, his features drawn and deep rings of violet underscored drooping eyes. A stiff wind could have well knocked him over. He's exhausted. Thorne tried to recall how long they'd both been awake – by rights he ought to be as tired as his Sailing Master, but when his blood was up he seemed to lose the need for sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed he also lost the ability to remember others still had that need. He frowned. "Yes, yes, go below. You're no use dead on your feet." He waved a dismissive hand, irritability manifesting on his features. Not that he was truly cross with Moore; it was good and well that the man sought to rest now so Thorne could have him on deck when the battle began. Costa was a good lad, but green to command.

No, he wasn't cross with Moore. He was cross with the waiting. But right now, wait was all he could do...