The Lutine

[Lutine]

This was some prose I wrote a while back that I thought I should share. It tells the story of the HMS Lutine(also my forum namesake), a very real ship that sank carrying very real gold. Indeed, when the HMS Lutine sank, it caused a stock market crash in Britain. Ouch.

This was my take on the voyage. The last bit was a little cheesy, rushed, even. If I ever extend this(I likely will), I'll definitely be editing out that part in favor of a more realistic and gritty plot.

 

---

 

 

The brass bell of the 32-gun frigate HMS Lutine rang loudly as massive swaths of waves battered against its beaten frame. Like a duet, the ship creaked and groaned along with it.

Another wave. Jeremiah Cromfeld winced as the dark wave swept several sailors off the deck to drown to their deaths, their safety rope having been snapped.

He was almost mesmerized by the chaos on his ship. The long rows of brass 26-pounders on deck had been fastened down. The proud colors of the Royal Navy was in shreds, and the frigate's characteristic yellow-and-black Nelson colors was discolored and unsightly.

 

A man yelled from across the windswept deck, but he couldn't make out what he was trying to say.

The man yelled again. "Sir! She's crouching!"

Jeremiah glanced towards the bow of the ship. He could barely make out the bowsprit amidst the sea spray and the torrential rain, but no doubt about it, the venerable ship had developed a severe list to port.

 

For a second, just a second, he considered abandoning ship. She was a proud Royal Navy ship, but she would never withstand this beating.

No, he reminded himself. The gold must make it to England.

Jeremiah pulled the young midshipman on the bridgedeck aside. "You there, Mitchel! Get below -I don't care if you can't get down- Move everything we've got to starboard. Now!"

The young man stammered a reply. "Y-yes, Captain Cromfeld!" The officer hurriedly jumped down the bridgedeck stairs, ripping his soaked navy blue jacket in the process.

 

A futile act, he thought to himself. He had already lost the entire mizzen-mast to the hellish storm during the day, and the main topgallant mast came down an hour later. In addition, the pumps and the men working them were half-dead from exhaustion.

Gritting his teeth, he shot a glance at his first officer. He was at the bow with two other sailors, cutting the port anchors loose in desperation.

Stumbling his way to the portside by gripping the rough wood railings, he made his way towards the bow.

'Riley!" he barked. "You're in command."

Without saying more, he turned away, back to the quarter deck.

 

The quarterdeck doors were swinging wide open, likely bashed inwards by unsecured material.

He groaned as the oak door fell inwards when he pushed on it.

The cabin itself wasn't far off from the doors' condition. The framed glass had shattered, beaten in by the unrelenting rain, and paper amongst other personal belongings were strewn all across the room.

Futilely drying himself off with a towel, he looked down at the rain-soaked canvas charts on his desk.

They were still at least a hundred eighty sea miles between them and Ushant. He shook his head in discontent. They would never make it.

 

A large outcry suddenly rang out on deck. Surprised, Jeremiah ran out, tripping over the crumpled door.

 

"What? What is it?" he yelled, startling a sailor frantically fastening rope beside him.

 

"Sir... It's the ship! The devil's ship, I tell you!" the man quivered, pointing out to the pitch black sea.

 

Jeremiah scowled. "What kind of nonsense is this?" he asked, pulling out a brass spyglass from his belt.

 

Then he saw it. A streak of lightning highlighted the pitch-black silhouette of a merchant brigantine, floundering at sea. The vessel itself was innocuous enough, but eerily, it was drifting towards the HMS Lutine's port side at an alarming rate against the current.

The captain frantically yelled at the helmsman. "H-helmsman! Hard to starboard! Starboard!"

It was a futile attempt. All sails had been struck for the storm. They themselves were drifters in the ocean.

 

The ghost vessel rammed the frigate at an incredible speed, splintering against the timber of the old warship.

A beam struck Jeremiah on the head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Edited August 7, 2012 by Lutine

[Keanumoreira]

That was fantastic! You've got a real knack for writing. Ever considered turning it into a profession? :thumbsup: