[Mission 1] Capture Lissa - At sea

[Elrick]

[Far be it for a mere seaman to propose a course of action but I suggest covertly overland. Ready for action (for what the two of us will be worth) but not disguised unless the Lt will be able to carry off any language difficulties we may encounter]

[I'm loathe to cast off the King's uniform.... overland seems the best way to do things. Lets crack on!]

PM sent to both of you.

[Peanut]

Jumping off the boat Bill nimbly lands on the low rocky outcrop they’ve pulled up to. Starting to work his way up the headland he pauses and looks back, watching the Lieutenant with concern. Used to moving stealthily he fretted briefly about Arkwright sticking out like a sore thumb. With a shrug he put the worry out of his mind and continued up the headland. Reaching the top he crawled to a good vantage point and looked down into the harbour. He scanned the town and the waterfront, taking in the steep narrow streets and closely packed streets. His eyes scanned towards the top of the town and the large, shabby fort that overlooked it. Apart from the large Turkish flag fluttering in the breeze it appeared quiet. Turning his head his gaze swept down to the harbour itself, past the small fishing vessels being prepared for sea and the two Turkish ships, the larger of which Bill recognised from the previous day. He then focused on the two vessels lying at anchor in the middle of the harbour, a clearly unladen barge and a French warship. As Arkwright reaches his vantage point Bill waves him to crouch down. He allows the Lieutenant a few moments to take in the vista below them. “Seems Frenchie is here Sir and not in a hurry to leave. Shall we nip into town for a shufti and see how many are there?”. He watches Arkwright's face carefully, trying to read the Lieutenant's counternance.

[Neil Gow]

Arkwright rolls his eyes at the gentle encouragement of his companion, that he remain covert in his observations. Did the imbecile think he was going to leap onto the rocky precipice and begin a musical admonishment of the French?

Still, they did have an excellent view of the harbour - the highly defendable harbour if that fort has more useful innards than its external facade would suggest. The turkish ships are ... irrelevant. The Spartan can handle them without concern. That French ship however is another matter. He slips a small eyeglass from his pocket and trains it upon the vessel. Sixth rate by the look of things, sleek, well-maintained for a Frog and the men working on her sails seem competent. Still, she would be a challenge for the Spartan, but nothing that their broadside couldn't handle.

He looks again, closer. A few men mending the sails, a few men polishing the deck ... but few others to be seen. The classic French mistake of releasing their crew in friendly harbour, knowing that their predilections will lead them to the first tan-thighed distraction they can find and thus, undoubtedly, a case of the pox and misery on their return voyage. A town filled with drunken Frenchies, avaricious Turks and a degree of intrigue... how could he stay away?

" We should move down and see the lay of the land a little, methinks. I'll just alter my clothing a little to put them off."

Arkwright proceeds to take off his longcoat and turn it inside out, rolling up the sleeves and putting the coat back on. He takes off his bicorn and flattens it, sliding in into the band of his trousers behind his back. Proud of his apparent obfuscation of rank, he presents himself to his companion, leaving him unsure whether the officer is mad, joking or both...

[Peanut]

Bewley looked at the Lieutenant in amazement. As his brain finally made sense of the words his ears had struggled to understand his eyes took over the struggle of comprehending the Officer. As Arkwright presented himself like some vaudeville act Bewley frantically struggled to think of something to say. Finally, at a loss for words, he weakly muttered "very good Sir...". Oh well, if it comes to the worst he could let Arkwright act as decoy...

"Ready Sir?" Without waiting for a reply Bill set off towards the town. Careful to pick a route that provided ease of passage while keeping away from any place that could leave them in sight of the harbour he led Arkwright down to the outskirts of the town. Crouching down behind a stone wall he waited for Arkwright to catch up. "Get your breath back Sir, I'll have a quick looksee before we go for a wander". Quickly, before Arkwright could raise any objection, he took off, heading between the first of the houses, using the shadows cast by the sun. Looking around he spotted some clothes hanging out to dry. Checking that no-one was around to see he liberated a pair of cut short trousers and a shirt. A few moments later he was, to all intents, a local. A few minutes later he had checked ot the way towards the centre of town and the likely areas that would attract sailors with coin to spend. He headed back to where he had left Arkwright.

[Elrick]

The air is dry and dusty, but cool. The trailing edge of last night's storm can be seen in the clouds streaming across the morning sky. Apart from an inquisitive goat edging towards Lt Arkwright's (apparently tasty-looking) sleeve, the immediate area is deserted.

Both men are startled by the muezzin's call to prayer which suddenly echoes from down in the town.

A single boat is being lowered from the French frigate, but otherwise nothing stirs.

[Peanut]

"Come on Sir. Let's go see what Frenchie's up to". Bewley turns back towards the town and heads off. He walks with a seemingly relaxed gait yet moves fairly quickly, almost gliding along the dusty streets on the edge of the shadows cast by the buildings. His eyes constantly scan the streets, his senses, honed on the streets of London's less salubrious neighbourhoods, alert for any movement. A quick glance back to check on the following Lieutenant before he turns down a side street that he'd figured in his earlier visit led towards the harbour.

[Elrick]

The streets are narrow and steep, sloping down towards the harbour. In places, the houses are so close together that the men are unable to walk side-by-side. The townfolk must be at prayers because the two men see no-one about, although several dogs bark as they pass.

At the top of a long flight of steps they get a look across the harbour. The French boat is pulling across the water towards the town, a single officer sitting upright in the stern. A signal of some kind is now flying from the French frigate and there is some movement on both it and the barge.

From all around are the sounds of the town coming to life as prayers end.

[Neil Gow]

"Mr Bewley, I believe we may need to get closer to that ship to ascertain her intentions. This sudden flurry of activity is curious is it now. And I believe this innane caterwauling and subsequent praying may give us the opportunity. You see Bewley, the rational man would not set his watch by the times of prayer, but the irrational man would, allowing his enemy a chance to plan his move in that knowledge - to whit, after prayer, I would wager that these Turks will proceed to eat, happy in the knowledge that their evening's ministering is complete. And your common frog, as well we know, cannot resist a good meal. Indeed, I would wager that the party on the boat are indeed, outwardly bound to serve as guests at some banquet or other and in this knowledge, as men of rational thought, we can proceed."

Noticing Bewley's rather blank look, Arkwright sighs. "In this hour, the frog officers will be stuffing their faces, so we can get closer with less chance of detection?"

[If this comes to some sort of challenge, I would like it to double up as a challenge for my Personal Mission, proving that Reason overcomes Religion.]

[kremmen]

Aboard ship, Elijah continues to do nautical things. Flemishing may be involved

[Ovid]

Chambers does a routine health check-up of all the off-duty men.

Georgios, meanwhile, has the rest of the crew on high alert, watching for enemy ships.

[Peanut]

Bewley looks up at the morning sun and then back at Arkwright. "Umm, yes Sir. Follow me". Hurrying up Bewley continues to dart down streets towards the harbour. Quickly he scouts our a place to observe the landing French boat. A villa with a small balcony that overlooked the harbour provided a perfect vantage point. Standing in the shadow provided by the building Bewley squinted into the sun and watched as the boat pulled up. He remained perfectly still, his breathing slow and measured, as he watched the French Officer stiffly disembark onto the quay side. He waited to see which direction the frog would go, his mind already running through the options he'd have of tailing their prey.



[Edited to add more, as I'd rushed the original entry due to being conscious of the delay]

[Elrick]

HMS Spartan tacks into the bay where the Caledonia and Swanage lie at anchor, spaced out to cover each other in case of trouble.

The sound of a bugle echoes across the water from the Caledonia and men can be seen scurrying on her deck. A signal snaps out at her masthead "Awaiting orders".

A small group of officers can be seen on Swanage's deck, studying the Spartan through telescopes. No other activity can be seen.

[Elrick]

From the shadows Bewley and Arkwright study the steps where as French boat comes alongside. One officer, a sailor and a boy (perhaps a servant) step up onto the dock. Two well-dressed Turkish men appear from a nearby doorway. Words are passed, although not clearly enough for Bewley or Arkwright to hear. Then the group turn away and walk up through the town towards the fort.

The remaining French sailors climb out of the boat and stand chatting for a few moments. Once they are satisfied that their officer is out of sight, all but one of them set off into the town. The remaining sailor pulls a small bottle from an inside pocket and crosses the dock to a sheltered spot where he can keep the boat and the street up which his officer and his compatriots have gone. For a moment, Bewley and Arkwright think that the Frenchman is heading for their hiding place, but he finds shelter in a nearby doorway.

Out in the bay, the two French ships are silhouetted against the sky as the early evening light begins to fade.

[Peanut]

Decisions, decisions... Looking at Arkwright for inspiration, Bewley weighs up the options. In a low Whisper he addresses the officer "well Sir, I don't much fancy trying to follow the frog officer and the turks to the fort. So we can go join the frogs in town or pump that poor sod left on guard for info. You speak their lingo, don't you Sir? I'm sure I can rustle up a bottle of something we can go share with 'im". Looking around the buildings near where they are hiding Bewley selects a likely looking abode that affords good cover to anyone entering. Carefully he makes his way over and checks for any sign that anyone is in.



[Not sure if you want this to be a challenge or a test against either Scavenge or Skullduggery]

[Ovid]

HMS Spartan tacks into the bay where the Caledonia and Swanage lie at anchor, spaced out to cover each other in case of trouble.

The sound of a bugle echoes across the water from the Caledonia and men can be seen scurrying on her deck. A signal snaps out at her masthead "Awaiting orders".

A small group of officers can be seen on Swanage's deck, studying the Spartan through telescopes. No other activity can be seen.

Ypsilantis makes sure that the sighting of the two ships is relayed to the Captain, including the (perhaps) strange omission of any signal from the Swanage and its lack of activity. On the other hand, maybe Captain Sinclair was just being a little too eager, as usual.