rescue?

Gwen nearly missed the ship at first glance, but that was because her brain couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing.  When it did register and she looked back she nearly fell off her makeshift raft in shock.  What was coming towards her, and moving at an impossible speed was a full blown battleship-no battlecruiser she automatically corrected herself without thinking.  Gwen’s father had been a well known authority on such matters, and some of his enthusiasm had rubbed off on his daughter.
It was the speed that gave her away, that let on to the secret that this was no battleship.  She was long and low and mean, painted in a grey that was almost snow white and covered in tiger striped for added effect.  The razor sharp bow rising in a curving rake designed to slice easily through both the water and any enemy ships which happened to get in the way.  Hunched gun turrets housing the massive double gun barrels gave way to elegant, clean cut superstructure and hidden silos for missiles showing that whoever had designed her had decided to mix the new in with the old.  Whoever had designed her? It crossed Gwen’s mind it might not be the Rebellion at all but a separate group, even a rogue Sea Commander.  There were plenty of people out there who hated ‘High Seas inc’ but who didn’t care for the rebellion either and to make it even more beguiling the only flag the ship flew was the skull and cross bones of a jolly roger.
         But oh she was beautiful.  But then as a battlecruiser she had every right to be as although their merits were often called into question no one ever doubted that the hybrids were that.  The big old ships had an aura of power all of their very own, an aura that still intrigued and captivated people long after the missile age had taken over.  A presence that no nuclear submarine could ever hope to achieve.  When HMS Hood sank the world mourned her passing, yet when half the American fleet were wiped out during the Fall it was the men and women who served in them that were remembered, not the ships themselves which had been quite quickly forgotten
.          Gwen wondered what this new ship’s name was.  It had to be something quite imposing.  But then if the Royal Navy’s choice in ship names was anything to go by that might not necessarily be the case.  By now she was getting quite close to where she was drifting, close enough for her to see the sailors standing on her bridge wings, and to look up into the impassive tinted windows that hid the command from view.  A bit closer and she would be able to see the name painted in black letters on her side…
         It was something beginning with and ‘A’.  That was all Gwen could remember before the massive frothy bow wave caught her makeshift raft and sent it pitching wildly.  Then the world wend black.