Connolly thinks about the question and then answers "Captain Jack never was liked enough by the any of the nobles and never got any forgeries made."

The celt sees the ship is flying French flag.

"The bloody French will be easy pickings anyways." he mutters to Connolly. "Do we have a French flag? If so fly it"

Hawk approaches The Celt "Well Captain, may I suggest we prep the cannons and have the lads aim for the sails? Some will of course aim at the ship but rather we remove its chances of running then causing it to become drift wood."

The Celt clasps Hawks forearm, "A solid plan lad, just keep the regular balls ready to sink em if we need to. I'd rather take the ship itself if possible so hold your fire until they fire upon is or I call out for no quarter."

The Celt pauses, "If they've got any long guns or 12 pounders we'll be taking those too".

"Ai yi captain. Not every thing will be aimed at the sails, just a few. We'll try to clear off majority of the deck if they resist, just try to give my men some areas to aim for that won't include our sailors." With that Hawk heads down to the lower deck and starts shouting orders for men to prepare for a pending battle.

Grumbling at being out voted and then ignored, Handsome Jack heads below deck and gathers his gear. No doubt blood will be spilled if the new captain is not up to snuff.

Just as the French flag is flown, the merchant ship does a hard course course correction and begins fleeing the area.

The Celt smiles bloodlust I his eyes, "They had their chance! Let the heavy canvas fly, Bring em down bullies. I want every mast on that ship gone! An extra share goes to the gunners that bring down their main mast. Once we've slowed 'em down load for a broadside, I want a first volley on their gundeck and a second in the main. Then we board their rear and take control of their helm. "

He walks to Connolly and unsheathed his claymore, "They had true chance. Looks like they don't wish to parlay. Assemble a boarding party."

Hawk hearing Black Stewarts cry starts barking orders at the gunnery crew. "ALRIGHT, chain shots aimed at the masts, the sooner we bring it down the better we all are. I want back up crews to be ready to load up regular shots for when they're dead in the water. LET'S MOVE PEOPLE, THE ONE WHO CAUSES THE MOST DAMAGE DOESN'T HAVE TO HELP CLEAN UP THE CANNONS!"
Hawk aids any that need some help aiming, and just keeps on top of people handling powder and ammo.

Flashback:

The sky is darkened with smoke as the city of Edinburgh was burned and sacked. The castle badly damaged. Amongst the dead was an impossible amount of blood. Black Stewart stood battered and wounded, though his red and black tartan looked freakishly clean in the firelight despite being soaked in English blood. He could feel the pain in his left hand left from the raw wood of his butra. He could barely hold his claymore coloured red with the essence of his enemies life.

He watches as peasants try to put out the fires in their homes and the English retreat. he stalks after them content on killing every last one of the bastards. He was the last of his kinsmen one of twenty warriors from his clan who had survived the attack. Less than a dozen of his fellow follow warriors all from other clans follow him into the night as he seeks his payment for transgressions against his people. A payment that can only be made in blood.

End flashback.

"It seems blood must always be spilt" he says to himself.

"Boarding parties, make Fast! We will make short work of these cowards if they do not immediately grovel at our feet!"