V: a gunner in trouble.

Feb 19, 2012 17:03

[A communication written from the ship, late last night, completely and accidentally public (well, to those of you who are literate),]

Pirates! send help.

She's going down, send help. Please.

[Semi-Spam]

[There's a flash of a white shirt and breeches in the water, and then some flailing of legs.

Eventually, a pair of hands appear over the side of the harbour, and a sodden head follows them. There's washed out blood stains on his shirt sleeves, and he coughs, he splutters, then pulls himself up onto the stones.

He kneels up and coughs up a lot of salt water, gasping for air. He has several injuries - the blood on his shirt is both his own, and that of other men, inbetween gasps, he shouts to whoever can hear,]

We have... Oh God Almighty, we have lost her! I swear... the devils, the devils themselves have taken her! We fought, I swear, we fought, but their guns... there were too many.

[He's trying not to sob. That would not be manly, or British, or remotely sailor like. But he doesn't move from his spot on the harbour, despite his injuries.]

((ooc: Teppic is still known as Teppic, but now it's Midshipman [HE HAS A FIRST NAME BUT YOU DON'T KNOW IT] Teppic. He'll be known in harbour, and is nominally Indian for the sake of the time period.

Anyone who wants to know him well, poke me and I'll give him a first name, just for you.))

teppic

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