End of Night Five

The Anglo-Spanish War, c.1588

Under the blanket of darkness, a trio of ships were headed northbound towards the Dutch coastline, but the journey had slowed in the last few hours as the sails had caught little of the westerly wind; the convoy, known as the Flota de Indias, was traveling with a full cargo hold of precious metals, Iberia's finest and other assorted goods, both to assist in financing the campaign against the English as well as convince the United Provinces to lend their aid rather than oppose the Spanish.

The journey had been rocky, the seas particularly bothersome as the convoy sailed around Finistère, but there was very little that the seasoned sailors onboard could not handle; that was, until the lookout starting screaming from the crow's nest, having spotted a single English galleon hurtling over the horizon, wind in her sails.

One of the escorting galleys was ill-prepared to face such a foe, and found herself victim to the Golden Hind's opening volley; dozens of cannonballs slammed into the galley's portside, shredding through the hull as though it were made of paper and crippling the mast, leaving the usually-capable sailors onboard to try their best to keep the ship afloat and retaliate, but they wwere taking on water far too quickly for them to concentrate on returning fire.

One man refused to go down without a fight, however; a gentleman whose name was completely inoffensive, he ran to one of the few cannons to have avoided the water thrown upon the deck and blindly fired it, only for another volley from the English galleon to rock the ship and send the shot off-kilter. The misfired cannon had caused the flailing sail from the mast to ignite; the sailor attempt to snuff it out by dragging the cloth onto the decking and stamping voraciously upon it... in his vigorous frame of mind, the Spaniard failed to notice a stray spark hit one of the gunpowder barrels; he was blown skywards, the ship following suit as the explosion completed the groundwork set by the English ship.

The Golden Hind took a sharp turn, with the wind in her sails, to easily bypass the other escort; the famous ship was barrelling straight for the treasure ship, attempting to move into a boarding position. Unfortunately, there are always overzealous sailors who wanted a taste of the action a little too soon; gibson was one such man, his attempt to jump aboard the vessel falling flat as he thudded against the hull of the treasure ship face-first, dropping into the churning waters below entirely unconscious.

The boarding then proceeded as planned, with dozens of Englishmen leaping aboard, weapons-in-hand; men were fighting openly on the deck of the ship, so much so that even the Spanish bucket boy was using his broom to attempt to stave off the English. In the confusion of battle, several gunshots were fired across the ship, but only one seemed to strike it's target; Warman felt a shot slam into his back lower back, causing him to stumble onto the blade of one of the English attackers.

Nearby, Double A was fighting with an Englishman; sword-slash for mace-swing, blow-for-blow, it was a pretty even match between the two of them. Two other duelers stumbled upon their fight, knocking both themselves and Double A's opponent to the ground; sensing the opportunity, Double A leaped forward to kill his foe, only for the fallen Spanish dueler to thrash out, his sword piercing Double A's neck and killing him instantly on the spot.

As the fight was clearly leaning in favour of the Golden Hind, Sir Francis Drake decided to make his grand appearance; swinging onto the deck of the Spanish treasure ship, Ironside dispatched the battling Spaniards with the upmost ease, his foes unable to cope with his superior swordsmanship, balance and agility. In the heat of the moment, he almost struck the arm of one of his shipmates; he began to mouth an apology when the man swiped his shortsword horizontally through the air, slicing a neat crimson line across the privateer's throat.

As the battle raged on around him, Drake rotated on the spot, his free-hand clasped at his neck as he continued to fight despite his failing strength and fading vision, his curved blade still claiming lives even as he began to die; eventually, he could fight no more, and he collapsed in a heap upon the deck of the treasure ship, cries of "al dragón está muerto!" echoing in the air.

With the death of their famous captain, the English morale began to falter, enabling the remaining Spanish forces to repel them from the ship, though not before the fleeing sailors could carry Drake's lifeless form back to his quarters.