Today's challenge - the words Effect, Light and Flying. For some reason, the idea for this one came almost straight away, and now I'm left wanting to watch Hornblower again. The whistle blew with a shrill blast and the entire crew immediately stopped what they were doing to turn to the captain and listen.
“I’m afraid shore leave may have to be cancelled,” she said, pointing towards the town where a large crowd were gathering. They were armed with knives, belaying pins and some pistols – clearly here for action rather than to simply see the Zephyr when she came into dock. “To arms, all! Prepare to repel boarders!” Her crew, all well trained, immediately moved to it. Those that had reached the dock climbed back aboard, and all grabbed weapons and moved to cover to begin taking shots at the crowd as and when they could. The captain moved to her ship’s master as her people prepared to defend their home. “Can we see them off, Mr Beckett? There appear to be a lot of them.” He shook his head slightly, not wanting the crew to see him. “No, Maam, I suspect not. Cloudbank is a poor port, with poorer folk. That makes them desperate – when a ship laden with valuable cargo comes in, well – it has a mighty powerful effect on them.” She nodded. “Perhaps you could have mentioned this risk before we docked, Mr Beckett?” “With respect, Maam,” he replied, “I did. The situation hasn’t changed though – we’re still desperate ourselves. We need power.” She drew her own sword and pistol. “Aye, Mr Beckett. As you say. Get some people that aren’t fighting to take in the sails. We don’t want anything blocking the light.” “Aye, Maam,” he said as she headed down to join the battle. “Miss Blasier! Take in the sails!” Her division had been tasked with staying aboard ship, so they’d be the nearest. “Yes, Sir!” came the answer immediately from the midshipman he’d addressed. “Higgins, Demeter, take the main mast! Balust, Damian, take the fore! Javro, Williams, take the aft!” “Aye, Maam!” came six answering voices as her division moved to complete their work, climbing the masts swiftly and working to bring in the sails, wrapping the voluminous fabric so that the lenses that were so crucial to the Zephyr were bathed in what was left of the day’s light. Beckett moved to the wheel. They’d have to be ready to leave as soon as they had enough power. He was sure what he had told the captain was correct – they couldn’t win this fight. The only thing that mattered was if they could hold out long enough. He watched the needle move as the light provided the last of its power. Shots fired and he spared a moment to look at the fight. The captain was now in the thick of it, as was her way. She wouldn’t have her crew fighting and not go to risk herself beside them. It was why they were so loyal to her – they knew that she’d been a simple sailor just as they were at one point, that she wouldn’t put them to a risk that she would take herself. They had enormous respect for her and would die for her if it came to it. He heard a thud and saw one of Blasier’s division fall from the yard. An unlucky shot had knocked him off balance and, even if it hadn’t killed him, the fall would have finished the job. Already he could see Blasier climbing to take the man’s place and ensure the job was done. “Mr Portabo – stand your division ready to help with the sails!” “Aye, Sir!” and soon after six other answering shouts. He looked again at the needle. It was climbing. They could leave now, but they wouldn’t have the power to get anywhere. “Mr Beckett, Sir?” He looked down to see a young powder girl at his side. He nodded at her. “The Captain sends her respects, and requests that you set sail as soon as you can.” He nodded. “Very well. My respects to the Captain. We’ll set sail immediately.” The powder girl nodded and headed back into the battle to inform the captain. He blew on his whistle. “All hands aboard! I repeat, all hands aboard!” He called orders and sailors moved to release ropes keeping them docked whilst the crew withdrew back onto the Zephyr. They were well practised and moved swiftly, though he could see some bodies were being left behind. As the last rope was cut, he flipped the switches and channelled power from the batteries beneath the lenses and into the engines, feeling them fire up. This was madness – with the power they had, they would only be flying for a few minutes. The captain appeared at his side as they moved away from the dock, into the clouds. “Beat to quarters, Mr Beckett,” she said when he looked over. “Let’s teach this mob a lesson in courtesy.” He repeated the order, hearing the lieutenants and midshipmen repeat it after him. All crew moved to the guns. “On my order, Mr Beckett,” said the captain. “Give them a broadside.” “Aye, Maam. On your order.” A moment passed. A blessed, still, quiet moment. The only sound came from the engines humming. The mob on the dock had been silenced by their failure to capture the Zephyr. They didn’t know what was coming. “Fire, Mr Beckett,” she said. “All hands, port side, fire!” Guns roared, and the people on the dock were left dead, wounded or running. They didn’t need the starboard broadside. “Take us back in, Mr Beckett,” the captain said, once she was satisfied that they could safely return. “We still need more power.” “Aye, Captain.”
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