I had stepped up patrols the last couple of days in anticipation of this moment. My spies informed me of the Maceholder's pleas for help to neighboring lands. Now the Allied fleet has arrived.

The battle has begun.
The wind in my face, the salt air in my lungs, the sight of burning and sinking ships..I love this life.

My ship holds it own, but it is obvious my fleet is losing.

As I watch a ironclad sink into the depths, I get a message from the Doctor. "The enemy has landed on the island, the tide has turned. The situation is grim."
My ship is taking on water but I could continue to fight. I decide to see the situation, on the isle, for my self. The Doctor is surrounded by enemies with rifles at the ready. Maceholder tried to get the best of me. His bullets hiss by my ear as I get the launch away from the shore.

And what of the Doctor?

I am sure he can take care of himself.
I head out to open seas.

So I tender my resignation as Admiral.
I look forward to reaching foreign shores...I could really use a drink.
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