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 12th September; A Night-time Raid
Tide Evans
 Posted: May 1 2016, 02:20 PM
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Quartermaster, Royal Navy
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Joined: 4-May 14

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The only drawback to any night attack was the brightness of the moon. Fortunately for the Terpsichores, the moon had been new only a couple of days previously, so there was virtually no light from it in the night sky. Stars, bright as they could be, did not count. Even better for the little flotilla was the fact that there was a layer of clouds between the earth and the heavens, handily obscuring the twinkling of starlight. Tide Evans cast an eye upward anyway, chiefly out of long habit. Then he brought his gaze sharply down again to narrow his eyes at the line of Marines in the centre of the cutter. One of the red-jacketed dullards had shifted, rattling his musket just enough.

"Silence in the boat!" The Welshman hissed, his voice barely audible but still laden with crisp reproof. All movement except the regular rocking motion of the oarsmen ceased immediately. Good. It wouldn't be long now until the boats ran ashore and the business of sacking this French signal tower could begin. Tide had to admit he was eager for the chance for some quiet destruction. Cruising up and down the coast was well and good but it did not allow for the right kind of exertion, in his own considered opinion. He peered ahead of the cutter and made a minute adjustment to the tiller. Not long now.

Beside him, the officer in command of the boat shifted to glance away to larboard, in the direction of the other cutter. Keeping an eye on the other boats was imperative, Tide knew. A collision, or even a near-miss, could alert the French to their presence. All seemed well, though. Tide thought he could see the darker outline of the beach standing out above the steely-blue line of the sea. Nearly there. Their assigned landing place was just ahead. Every man in the cutter knew what was expected of him and as soon as the boat was run hard ashore, everyone would leap to his respective task at once. Of that, the quartermaster was sure.

"Marines!" One of the bullocks uttered the single word in a short, sharp exhalation of breath and there was an imperceptible stiffening of backs in the middle of the boat. Despite himself, Tide brushed his fingers against the hilt of his sheathed cutlass. Not long now at all.

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Patrick O'Neill
 Posted: May 6 2016, 09:13 PM
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Passed Midshipman (Master's Mate)
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Patrick was excited for the raid. It would provide a chance for distinguishing himself. And he needed a bit of distinction for though he had passed his examination for Lieutenant, he'd never received a commission. Which is what led him to take a job as one of Terpsychore's Master's Mates.

Furthermore, it provided him a chance for some action. He'd loved fighting since he had joined the Navy. Of course, back then he was only a boy, and didn't generally do much of that. After he'd become a Midshipman he would be in the thick of it. And he longed for it again.

Seated in one of the ship's boats, he quickly checked his cutlass once more, and then made sure his pistol was half-cocked. It would simply not do if his pistol accidentally, and more importantly, prematurely discharged.

He looked at his mates. He didn't have many friends -and most of them were either staying behind, or in other boats- and everyone was ready. Or at least they were making an effort to appear ready.
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William Bush
 Posted: May 11 2016, 11:55 PM
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First Lieutenant
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As the boat plied quietly through the water, Bush drew in a deep breath. They were approaching as soundlessly as possible, yet even the slightest noise could alert the enemy to their presence. Which was of the utmost concern, for his party was headed straight for the signal tower, to capture it without drawing attention. That would not be easy, but he was confident his men were up to the task.

The beach was ahead, just barely visible in the darkness. The other boats were nearby, all headed to their assigned spots. So far, everything was running smoothly. Reaching down, Bush briefly touched first the hilt of his sword, then his pistol, readying for the inevitable conflict. The men around him all seemed to be feeling likewise, judging by their tense postures. They would not have long to wait. The beach was closer now, and soon their task would begin.

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Cross Johnson
 Posted: May 15 2016, 03:50 PM
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Private, Royal Marines
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This would be the first action ashore for which he held no greater authority than the musket in his hands. No rank meant no responsibility. It already felt strange and just a little uncomfortable, but on the whole, Johnson found that he was not unduly troubled. If all he had to do tonight was skewer any Frenchmen unlucky enough to cross his path, that was perfectly fine with him.

It helped of course that he was in the Premier's boat, which meant the greatest chance to do a little fighting. The Marines and boat crew were to take the signal tower itself, as soundlessly as possible, and see to it that all the tower's inner workings were completely destroyed, also as soundlessly as possible. The sheer challenge of it appealed to him, if the truth was known.

The only drawback was the fact that Major Cartwright was in the cutter with them. But of course the officer had elected to command the party of Marines that would win him the most glory. Johnson traced his thumb over the edge of his doghead and fixed his gaze on the thin pale ribbon of beach as it drew steadily nearer. In the bow, a seaman was taking soundings, calling out the depth of the water in a nearly inaudible voice.

At most, another couple of minutes stood between them and land, and then the night's work could begin.

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