Divine intervention?

"Have ye no pride at all, Randall?" Came the voice of an Irish man.

Anna turned to see a barrel-chested, red-headed man, aiming a pistol at the other man.

"Back off yer bleedin' heart, Twomey! Captain said we can have what women we want. Don't push yer squeamishness on me!" The other man barked.

"She's a woman of the cloth, ye bastard! Imma no saint, but that's too far. Step away from the sister, now!"

Anna felt herself breathing heavily. Had God answered her prayer and inspired this man to save her? Still, she didn't want this to result in bloodshed.

"Oh I get it. You want her for yerself, don'cha, Twosey. Those "ethics" of yers are just a crock, ain't they? Well she's mine! I'm having some fun before these bitches are put down." He turned menacingly back to Anna when a gunshot went off over his head.

Anna and Randall looked back to see Twomey starting to load a new bullet. "I'm dead serious, Randall."

The other man withdrew his cutlass once more. "Face me like a man, ya Irish bastard. If you want the pretty nun so bad, come get her!"

"Fine ye stubborn bastard." The Irishman unsheathed his own blade, discarding the pistol as he does so. "Apologies for this sister."

The two men charged, swords clashing in a minor, but louder echo of the fighting up above.

"Please..stop," Anna pleaded. "There's so much **** already."

Another lurch of the boat caused the two men to stumble and fall. Anna's attempted **** stood up first to try and get an advantage over her rescuer.