So, mates, here be the setup. 3 Spanish treasure galleons, running heavy, outbound for Europe. There's an intervening spit of land, and the slowest of the three takes the southerly route while the others stand to the north. I chase after the southmost one in my 20-gun Brig of War, the "Fancy", and engage her warmly. I've got the weather gauge, so I'm systematically cutting her up to board her. But, to my dismay, one errant shot hits her powder magazine, and she goes up like a Roman candle.
C'est la guerre. I suppose that 400 years hence, I've given someone something to do in the way of treasure hunting.
I turn my attention to the other two galleons, as the "Fancy" has taken no injury, and I overtake the two running broad beam to the wind. I run up from the south and cut in between the two, severing the trailing ship from her equally fat consort. I engage her more carefully, rotating between shot, chain, and grape. She's near ripe for boarding, even though she's stubbornly not stricken her flag. I did not, in this instance, have the weather gauge as securely as I usually insist upon. Nonetheless, we're avoiding her volleys and ranging in to throw grapples.
Then, the most curious of events happens. My quarry turns, as the wind qould give her, to the northwest. Her consort, in much better condition, is coming up slowly by northeast. Cat, quit laughing. The "Fancy" is turning to the west to continue engaging the weaker prey, when I suddenly find myself caught in the withering fire of <b>both</b> galleons, as they are both able to send broadsides against me.
Thank you, Cat, that's enough out of you.
Badly cut up, the "Fancy" is still handy enough to lay hold of the weaker of the two galleons, and after a brief boarding action, the heavily-laden galleon fell into my hands. The other galleon was able to run before the wind and escape.
Now I find myself deep within Spanish waters, struggling with a damaged ship aginst unfavourable winds. We'll see how this small drama plays out.
C'est la guerre. I suppose that 400 years hence, I've given someone something to do in the way of treasure hunting.
I turn my attention to the other two galleons, as the "Fancy" has taken no injury, and I overtake the two running broad beam to the wind. I run up from the south and cut in between the two, severing the trailing ship from her equally fat consort. I engage her more carefully, rotating between shot, chain, and grape. She's near ripe for boarding, even though she's stubbornly not stricken her flag. I did not, in this instance, have the weather gauge as securely as I usually insist upon. Nonetheless, we're avoiding her volleys and ranging in to throw grapples.
Then, the most curious of events happens. My quarry turns, as the wind qould give her, to the northwest. Her consort, in much better condition, is coming up slowly by northeast. Cat, quit laughing. The "Fancy" is turning to the west to continue engaging the weaker prey, when I suddenly find myself caught in the withering fire of <b>both</b> galleons, as they are both able to send broadsides against me.
Thank you, Cat, that's enough out of you.
Badly cut up, the "Fancy" is still handy enough to lay hold of the weaker of the two galleons, and after a brief boarding action, the heavily-laden galleon fell into my hands. The other galleon was able to run before the wind and escape.
Now I find myself deep within Spanish waters, struggling with a damaged ship aginst unfavourable winds. We'll see how this small drama plays out.