The Battle of Navarino Bay

 "The Greek Revolution needs a miracle," an old woman sighed, picking out her vegetables and putting them in a bag, her shawl coming loose and fluttering in the wind. She turned back to the Greek man who had helped her pick up her stuff before she dragged him over to the market place, because after all, she had said, you're such a nice strong man, and I can't carry these home myself! The Greek didn't mind though, and helped pick up her bought food and bring her to her home.

"The Ottomans have made such big steps! We're holding onto the skin of our teeth here! Nikos, bless his heart, says I shouldn't worry about it, that the revolution will be back on its feet in no time, but I still do. I've been around a long time, and this the biggest revolution I'VE seen," she rambled, guiding the man to the steps of her house, before finally stopping. The man almost dropped dead in exhaustion. Apparently the old woman hadn't been exaggerating when she said she lived on the far side of the sea town.

"I am so sorry! I dragged you all the the way up here and I don't even know your name!" the old woman realized, taking his hands and patting them with a severe grandmother look on her face.

The Greek man was at a loss, shuffling and looking at the ground. "Er, that's okay ma'am, just trying to be a good person."

"Nonsense! Tell me your name. I must know who to thank for helping me! "

"My name is Heracles, ma'am."

"Heracles. Oh, I know a man who has a nephew named Heracles! What's your last name good boy?"

Again the man was at a lost, stuttering and looking at the ground, and the food, before saying the first thing that came into his head.

"Um, Karpusi."

"Karpusi? Your last name is Watermelon?"

Heracles looked up from the watermelon that had inspired this brilliant idea and came up with a foolproof plan on why he was named after a fruit.

"Er, my father was a watermelon farmer." The old woman tutted and gave a sympathetic look, patting his hands once more.

"You poor boy. You must have been bullied so much when you were a child. Though once I knew a man called Alexios Psari. Imagine that! Your last name being Fish! Thank you so much Mr. Watermelon, I'll make sure to pray for you on Sunday," she chirped, before patting Heracles on the cheek and preparing to go up the stone stairs to her house above the bakery.

"It was no problem ma'am. Have a nice day!" The man shouted back at the rapidly retreating woman, going down the hill and to the sea, after a couple of tight turns of course. Pylos really was a beautiful city, even if it was sparsely populated, thought the Greek, passing the tavern he was staying at and following the road, up another hill, to the sea.

Unfortunately, Heracles wasn't here to sightsee, as was made clear when instead of going straight towards the narrow and rocky beach the sea town boasted, he went to the shipyard, where he had a full view of the mighty galleons and mile high ships that floated blissfully on the other side of the bay. There were so many of them sitting in the water that it almost looked like the ocean had given up and let trees grow on its soil once more. The flags of the ships fluttered and strained in the sea breeze, turning the leaves of the sea forest into an orchard of red, white, and blue. The three flags of the bay looked similar, with the same main colors, but after that the difference between the 3 national fleets stopped there.

The British ships in Navarino Bay glowed brilliantly, outdoing the other 2 in sheer size and number. Though Heracles knew that they weren't the true best that Britain could conjure, the gloating ships were pretty close. After all, the more to intimidate the Ottomans into doing what they wanted.