Johan Puke was wearing his big woollen coat with the large collar turned up. He was standing on the quarterdeck of his frigate HMS Venus protected by the poopdeck from the icy cold wind. Being armed with 26 guns of 24 skålpund and 14 of 6 skålpund giving her a broadside of 354 skålpund (332 lb) she could hit hard, her heavy guns being very powerful, but she was still fast and manoeuvrable, fully comparable to much smaller frigates. The design had been made by Fredrik af Chapman and as most of his designs it was very successful. HMS Venus was very much the queen of her own destiny. Johan's orders were to take, sink, or burn any ships he could reasonably match without taking any unnecessary risks. It was very much up to himself to interpret them and decide what to do. There had been rumours of a ship carrying the payroll to all the Russian soldiers now advancing into Sweden.

He wondered how come he had gotten these orders. Not many frigates, or other vessels for that matter, was not used for the fleet, fighting the Russian naval vessels. He wondered if this was to his benefit or if it was a banishment, far from the glory of fleet actions. He didn't care for titles, but a promotion... He really wanted to be captain of a ship of the line. In his mind he could see himself as the commander on the quarterdeck looking over a large and crowded deck, lined by heavy guns. His vision faded and he was back on his frigate, cruising the Baltic, between Finska Viken and Rigabukten, an area where just about anything he would encounter would be of the enemy Russia's navy or merchants trading with Russia, going to or from Riga and S:t Petersburg. Far from any Admiral to impress.

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