Captain Saratoga
Day dawned at last, and Saratoga caught a better view of their pursuer. For he was certain now that was what it was. He noted the glint off of freshly hauled out cannons, and though it waved erratically, and was partially veiled by the sails, he thought he recognised their flag: Captain Veryl; one of famed Admiral Becket's lot.
However, perhaps luck was on their side, despite its great sails, the larger ship was tacking, zigzagging to and fro in an unfavourable wind. Meanwhile The Vanishing Gull had found a good wind and the captain could feel them even them picking up more speed. This point in their favour afforded him enough peace of mind to leave the deck for a few moments.
He needed to check their supplies. There remained some provisions leftover, and he'd loaded some salted meat before the ceremony on Staggerfell, but nonetheless he didn't know how long it would all last.
Opening the hatch, it creaked loudly as always, it wasn't great for stealth but the hinges were stiff enough to hold themselves up which was convenient. Moreover, considering door into this part of the ship could be swiftly covered by some sliding panels so as to disappear, if any authorities did get to, well oiled hinges wouldn't do much.
Closing it behind him he descended into the aroma of rum, exotic spices, and gunpowder---his usual fare. He began weaving his way through the area, discading barrels he knew contained contraband, and checking the ones that (at least on the surface) had some food or water.
A noise echoed from behind a stack of three barrels tucked away in the corner, followed by a scrabbling hand reaching out and blindly searching for the pair of glasses lying a few inches out of reach.
Saratoga swiveled, and peered into the dim gloom of the hold. He gently grasped his gun, and approached the noise. There was another noise, and the sound of someone pushing themselves up by their elbows.
"Who goes there!" He barked.
"Oh, hey Captain." Fabian tilted his head backwards to look up at Saratoga,
amusement painting a small curve in his mouth.
"Huntington?" The captina said, amazed, he moved closer and loosened the tense grip on his gun. He saw one of them, putting on his glasses. Then he looked closer and found the other one, still dozing with half a biscuit in his mouth.
Saratoga uttered a curse.
"How long have you been down here? Why even are you down here?"
"Well, we've been down here since the ship took off I reckon--"
"We wasn't too sure we was on the right ship!" Ferryl cut in around a mouthful of biscuit, chewing vigorously as he was waken by the sound of talking.
"That too. I thought we ended up getting on one of those cutthroat pirates' ships so we decided not to move from this spot." Fabian lifted a shoulder in an awkward attempt at a shrug, awkward because of the child clinging to his other arm.
Saratoga uttered a long, exasperated groan.
"It's been a day sinc we left Staggerfell---how much have ye eaten?"
The two of them looked at eachother, glanced around and shrugged.
"Well get yourselves up on deck pronto."
After they'd left, he half-heartedly checked a few more barrels, they all told him the same thing: They'd have to land, soon; there was only enough food and water for a few more days. In the morning light again, he scanned the sea's for their pursuer again. The tall ship hadn't gotten any closer, but it must have found a strong wind, for neither was it getting farther away.
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