Lewis McLain

Biography
Captains full name: Lewis Hector McLain

Rank Held in the squadron: Master

Career: Naval Officer

Age of joining the Navy: 14

Current Age: 23

Reason for joining the RN: Highland winters

Sum up your captain’s personality and traits: A headstrong and temperamental young Scotsman with a lot to prove; Lewis will follow any orders given even if he thinks he knows better. A stalwart combatant on land and sea, McLain will go far in the Royal Navy if only he can learn that discretion is the better part of valor.

Captains Quote: “The characteristic of a genuine heroism is its persistence. All men have wandering impulses, fits and starts of generous courage. But when you have resolved to be great, abide by yourself and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot become common, nor the common heroic.” ~ Emerson

Your captains aims and goals:  "I mean, sir, to take out a bloody great frigate and charge it through the Caribbean and kill every damn pirate I find."

Friends and Family
Greg Sander - Freetrader

Gregory Mark Sander is the grandson of a celebrated privateer who sailed with Henry Morgan in the 17th century. At the age of 23, Sander inherited his family’s scattered estates and squandered fortune and is now seeking to rebuild tattered dreams into an economic empire. Sander's first investment into mining and lumber in Guyana met with failure, but in his travels there he met Captain McLain. They've formed a useful working relationship. McLain's contacts helped Sander earn contracts with the Navy Board and build his new enterprise in Beleize and Honduras. Sander uses his own connections with smugglers and other unsavory characters to guide McLain to any illegal dealings in his areas of patrol.

Record of Achievement

 * December 1st 1720 - Admiral's Commendation For services to the website.


 * October 27th 1720 - Promotion to Master


 * October 4th 1720 - Enlisted in the squadron

Ship History
HMS Blue Angel - 16-gun naval cutter, Lancer-class. Commandeered: Oct. 9th, 1720. Refit and recomissioned: Dec. 15th, 1720 Stationed: Port Royal. Major actions: Action - 1720 - October 10 - off of Matthew Town.

HMS Harrier - 20-gun light frigate, Postillionen-class. Commissioned: Oct. 21st, 1720. Decommissioned: Jan. 5th, 1720.

HMS Raptor - 32-gun naval frigate, Falcon-class. Commissioned: Nov. 3rd, 1720. Lost in Action Nov. 22nd. Major actions: Action - 1720 - November - 22 - Stalking the Florida Strait.

HMS Hunter - 28-gun pursuit frigate, Athena-class. Commissioned: Nov. 3rd, 1720. Stationed: Santa Catalina, unofficially assigned to The Redtails for tackling duty. Major actions: Action - 1720 - November 9 - The Surprise off Irish Point, Action - 1720 - November - 22 - Stalking the Florida Strait, Action - 1720 - December 9th - Ambushed by PARTY TIME off Jamaica, Action - 1720 - December 15 - A Failed Attempt to Arrest a Pirate off Irish Point.

HMS Spitfire - 38-gun naval frigate, Gallant-class. Commissioned: Nov. 24th, 1720. Stationed: Belize. Major actions: Patrol - 1720 - December 1 - Hunting Pirates off San Marcos, Duel - 1720 - December 15 - Engaged PARTY TIME off Orleans, Action - 1720 - December 16 - Chased a Pirate off Gibara.

HMS Punisher - 46-gun naval frigate, Mercy-class. Commissioned: Dec. 16th, 1720. Stationed: Santa Catalina. Major actions: Battle - 1720 - December 16 - The Capture of New Orleans (a.k.a. - Captain Lapenotiere's Christmas Present).

HMS Marauder - 56-gun naval fourth-rate ship-o'-the-line, Reason-class. Commissioned: Jan. 5th, 1721. Stationed: Orleans. Major actions: Action - 1721 - January 5 - A Spot of Bad Luck at Jaqueme.

Background Story
A lone night watchman was the only one who saw the ship arrive in Jenny Bay. It wasn’t so much of a ship as a pile of broken planks and shredded canvas, held together by tatters of rope and a few desperate men. It flew the Union Jack from its mainmast – the only mast standing amid the floating wreck of what had been a proud light corvette. The crew guided their ship to the navy dock. Standing at the shore end, the watchman felt the impact in the soles of his feet as the crippled vessel collided with the far end of the pier. He ran forward.

“Secure her best you can, Mr. Parker!” a voice called over the clamor of the crew. The voice was thick Scottish burr, produced by a short but powerfully-built man in a ruined midshipman’s coat, with a red pony tail under a watch cap. The man turned, and he spotted the watchman. “I must speak with the post commander immediately, along with the harbor master and anyone else I need to authorize me to commandeer one of these vessels.” He gestured to the ships tied to the navy pier.

The watchman was taken aback. “Of course, you must speak with Captain Swain and Master Haggerts. They will want to know the meaning of this, bringing this wreck here. And who shall I say has arrived?”

“I’m Lewis McLain, acting commander of HMS Typhon. Now get moving, man. We must be ready to sail three hours before dawn!” The Scotsman turned back to his crew. “Mr. Jackson! Take your party below and offload anything that can be salvaged, starting with the cannon!”

The watchman ran back into town. Some minutes later he returned with the harbor master – a Mr. Haggerts – and Post Captain Edward Swain. Swain recognized the red-haired young officer immediately. “By God, McLain, what the hell happened?”

“Our flotilla had a run-in with the Bilge Rats. We managed to pick off some of their scouts, but they brought in their flagship and shredded our rigging and left us behind, figuring to come back and pick us off later. The Tigris and the Badger didn’t last long against the pirate fleet. We managed to jury-rig a sail and escaped upwind before that bloody great bark of theirs could give chase.”

“Where’s Captain Simpson?” Swain asked.

McLain held up a ruined gilt-trimmed tricorne. “This is all we could find.”

“Christ. What were they thinking in Bridgetown, sending a light patrol like that to fight off our pirate gang. I told them they had a thirty-gun refit bark, and we’d need at least a light frigate of our own to stand up to it.”

McLain shrugged. “Jenny Bay is apparently not worth risking a frigate to defend – no offense, sirs.”

Swain sighed. “You’re probably right. Let’s find you and your men some lodging, and the morrow we’ll see to what can be done to salvage the Typhon.”

“With respect, sir, I already have my orders. I intend to finish off the Bilge Rats.”

“How? With what ship?”

“With your permission, sir, I shall take that cutter” McLain pointed down the dock to a diminutive twelve-gun warship, “and any men you can spare from the town garrison. Before the battle we saw the cove where the Bilge Rats make their anchorage. I’m certain I can take it under cover of darkness.”

“We’ve tried that before,” Swain said. “Their encampment is unassailable by land.”

“But not by sea. They’ll leave the Desecration – their flagship – anchored at the mouth of the cove. We take that, aim its guns at the camp ashore, land a raiding party, and then we kill every last one of the murdering bastards.”

Swain looked down thoughtfully at the tough young Scot. His plan treaded the thin line between bold and rash, but Swain liked it. The young officer’s zeal was infectious. “You take the Blue Angel there,” he nodded to the little cutter. “I’ll take the Shadow.” Swain waved to a sturdy schooner. “I’ll muster the entire garrison force and pack them into the ships. Ready your crew, Leftenant.”

Lewis McLain grinned through his blood-stained beard. “Aye sir!”

Two hours later, two small warships left the bay under the light of a waning crescent moon. McLain and his crewmen, along with the best marines from the garrison, manned the Blue Angel. McLain took a liking to the little ship immediately. She was a well-rigged ship and she handled beautifully in a light breeze. Though lighter in armor and guns than the Typhon, her small size was an asset – she was slim and lithe, she changed speed and direction sharply without hesitation. McLain felt he could handle her with grace and precision of his own rapier.

The Bilge Rats were making no effort to conceal their presence only ten miles up the coast from Jenny Bay. The huge bark Desecration was anchored as McLain figured, right across the mouth of the small cove, silhouetted by the bonfires ashore. McLain brought the little cutter alongside the starboard bow of the bigger vessel. His men hurled their padded grappling hooks up over the rails. The Scot took a line and pulled himself up to the Desecration’s forecastle. His intrusion was unnoticed.

He sent his men below while he took his marine sergeant aft to search the captain’s cabin. It was empty, but they found two crewmen sleeping in the galley nearby. They killed them in their sleep and went below. Their men were engaged in silent bloodletting, moving from the fo’c’sle to the fantail through the decks of the ship, murdering the pirates without making a sound. When they were through, McLain went to the top deck and waved his sword.

Swain saw the signal and sent the crew from his fort’s gun battery aboard the Desecration. Manning the port guns, they would use the ship as a fixed firing platform to rain death on the pirate camp. Swain took the Shadow and the rest of his men behind the big bark and made shore. McLain and his crew returned to the Blue Angel and made for the other side of the cove. They waded ashore and crept along the beach to the edge of the camp, lying low in the sand, waiting for Swain to signal the gunners.

A single pistol shot was fired. A moment later, the guns of the Desecration answered with a series of hollow booms. Nine and six-pound iron spheres poured in to the throngs of drunk and drowsy pirates. When the dust cleared, soldiers at both ends of the camp fired their muskets into the first figures that stood up. McLain charged forward with a shout, firing his pistol into the first moving shape he saw and thrusting his rapier into the next. His crew followed, unleashing their vengeful bloodlust with brutal effect.

McLain singled out a tall man in an outrageous hat – he recognized the man commanding the Desecration when it had laid waste to the Typhon. The pirate captain raised a saber. McLain slapped it away with his blade, spun, and crashed his elbow into the pirate’s jaw. The man staggered, but struck back with his sword. McLain barely blocked the swing in time, and took a step back. The enemy captain regained his balance and slashed down again. McLain struck back in quartata, sidestepping the incoming blade while landing grievous blow of his own, cleaving the pirate’s left shoulder to the bone. The pirate captain stared in amazement at McLain, and the young midshipmen simply ran him through.

Swain reached McLain just as the dead pirate captain slumped to the ground. “Well done, Leftenant. A superb piece of action.” The older officer was grinning widely as he looked around at the wrecked camp, strewn with the corpses of pirates.

McLain saluted. “Thank you sir. I await your orders.”

Swain nodded. “We shall return to port, and then on the morrow you may take the Blue Angel back to Port Royal to deliver our reports of what happened here to the Admiralty. And I suspect your promotion should be made official.” Swain extended his hand, and McLain took it. “You’ll make a fine captain, Lewis McLain.”