Grace gripped the rail, her gaze intent on the little ship that raced in front of her. With its sails spread against the grey sea, the schooner looked like a large gull skimming the waves as it tried to shake off its pursuers.
It wouldn't. The gap between them was closing, if slowly.
"Faster," Grace shouted.
I'm trying, came the response from her own ship.
Behind and above, the Wind Weaver's white sails filled the sky, as many as the masts could bear and each stretched full by the wind. The barque was obviously full pressed. Grace frowned. "We should be closing faster than this. It's just a little trader."
"It's movin well for a dead ship," the first mate, Henry, leaned beside her, his lashing tail reflecting his impatience, "maybe twenty turns even."
Sleeping, the Wind Weaver corrected, but Grace ignored that thought. A ship was awake, or it wasn't, there was no need to differentiate.
Maneuvering expertly, the Wind Weaver bore down on the overmatched schooner. The battery had a little juice left in her yet.
"Run out the guns!" Henry barked with excitement, his tail lashing faster.
Grace gave the order to fire, and a broadside crashed into the schooner. Her captain wiggled the joystick on his remote control, vowing to wear around and rake the Wind Weaver's main deck with grapeshot. Too late. The schooner was hors de combat. Captain Billy burst into tears as his expensive model boat laid her bones on the bottom of the Central Park pond.
There was playing pirates, and then there was Grace's version of playing pirates.
Opening: Xenith.....Continuation: Mignon