Roberts

Roberts slapped at the infernal insect which had seemed with singular purpose to plague him for the past quarter mile. He dipped his hat in th' stream an placed it back atop his thick mass of hair letting the water run off. Being back on land his mood had darkened to match the thick of the jungle they traversed but gave way to caution and his thoughts went to what lay ahead and above them. He assumed Cat would be safe amongst th' others and with any luck th' small crew would reach their destination ahead of detection. He was glad to be rid of the bulk of Phonse and though he didn't know the man travelling with him so well, at least he was more competent and a ranking officer.. despite losing his rank so quickly. Roberts smirked at this thought..his heavy beard almost obscuring any hint of the grin. He grasped a branch pulling his large frame along as the terrain grew uneven and motioned to Tomas to cross the stream to the side which had less undergrowth.

Roberts stood and looked at Ransom for a long hard second before looking to see the crazy Irishman at the helm of the sloop. Holding the bucket high, he dropped it with a thump onto the deck of the Rakehell and walked to the rail, swung his legs over and dropped onto the deck of the sloop. "Aye-aye Cap'n , There be yer bucket ya wanted. Ain't gonna take it wit me incase you decide ta say I stole it, seein' as ye seem ta be givin' orders then changin' yer mind an' punishin' them that follow 'em. Did ye ferget ya gave permission ta shoot that bloody Irishman if he comes near this ship again?" Roberts turned away and looked keenly at Nate. He still wasn't sure if the Irishman was a spirit or flesh so he crossed himself and stayed in the waist of the sloop. He faced sidelong just in Case Cat showed her face an decided t' even things up a bit. No sense gettin shot in th back.

Johnathan Roberts had been threatened by Red Cat before...many times for that matter..he tried t' sputter out a reply..that he warn't gonna kill th' lad.. Roberts had reasoned if Nate were real..he'd bleed like a man..an if not..they'd all bear witness.. He'd aimed fer a good wound t' put th man in 'is place..but not ta be fatal. After all Captain Ransom had said..."If that bloody Irishman comes near this ship again, you have my permission to shoot him. IS THAT CLEAR?" But th' rage in her were all too real an Roberts was now fearful that he'd be th' victim of his own actions. He regained his balance enough t' attempt t' throw her off him an pistol shot be dammed...wot were one more scar more r' less? But th' pistol remained jammed just below 'is jaw bone an Cat were shakin with rage. Suddenly he was released as a crewman among the frozen crowd spoke. "He's dead...jus like 'at" Roberts blinked an look fer himself. Nate lay still as stone..

Roberts watched from close by ..resolutely. He let the others pass 'im as they headed towards the newcomers aboard. His feet hurt. He was angry an pent up like a hungry dog behind a fence. Roberts was a man of action. All this lollygagging about...no prize..no rum..no fight. It was preposterous to him. All this posturing, running out of guns and making so many threats. E'd been ready to fight and his blood was up. E'd been hungry for wotever Jacky Tar was riskin his men fer. Gold, treasure...th only ones that were slaked were th' sharks. An fer th Pride O' Flodden t' up an sail away with Spaniards on th beach, gold in th water an at least two prizes to be had...th' back of his neck tingled. All the supernatural happenins that the big moor spoke of..the odd smells and unexpainable things such as this.. Black Nate was now reappeared on th' Rakehell's deck an Roberts in his superstition had gone t' wonderin as he had now n' then if th' man were just a crazy Irish sailor with extroadinary luck, or if he were some sort o' changeling amidst 'em. Roberts face grew dark as he mulled over th' fact that th only prize of a ship had been somehow taken by Nate..who saw fit to take Cat as well..an she..hadnt seemed t' give a fig fer wot happened t' him since dissapearin so many days ago. The big pirates nerves were frayed t' th' last. So in th midst of so much frustratin lack of sense 'e did th' one thing that made sense at that moment. Roberts drew his pistol an shot Nate.

Ahoy lass! ^ Southern hospitality

Roberts had watched the fray in the water with little interest once it were apparent no great treasure 'd been brought. Normally he would have, as gold and the promise o' it seeped into his veins like a briny gale into wool. Aye he had come t' th' rail with the others, but Robert's real intent were if a chest of gold be lifted an one o' them scum attempt t' off th' other, he'd have evened th' score right then. No treasure need be settled back t' th' bottom which should be equally divided. Now he stood aft like a great hulk. His deeply tanned visage set in concentration of his own private thoughts which had drifted back t' a certain lass he had unfinished business with. One meaty hand lay across the butt of the pistol he'd aimed by way of the sharks, now stowed at his waist. The breeze trifled with a few unruly pieces o' thick black hair determined t' escape from neath th' wool cap he wore. His bright blue eyes had flicked back an forth from an expressionless face, passin 'tween th' ships which had maneuvered so strangley about 'em. Sunlight glinted off brass as th' brig known 't Mr. Dysart began 't come about... She'd run out 'er guns. Roberts did not move, but a slow smile creased th' ruddy tan above so many thick black curls o' his beard revealin a hint o' gold he carried. He reached out an stopped a crewman who was tryin t' pass th' imposin man witout notice, graspin the lad's gangly arm wit ease "Tell th' Cap'n" he said without turnin about.. "I b'lieve we may have t' welcome Mr. Dysarts good friends. He nodded topwards th' advancin vessel an the lad looked across. His eyes grew big an he rushed foreward with barely an "Aye sah" Roberts continued t' stand an watch as he silently counted th' guns.

Roberts had said little since the storm..since Cat an Nate had left him behind. He was worried about her..the storm had drug up memories agin an now there'd been some strange happenins...Roberts said nuthin o' em t' any man nor woman aboard. He stayed mainly in th' daylight and sat now at th stern, his meaty palm held th lucky coin as his thumb caressed the groove he'd worn in it over th years since that night....

Holds up a mug "Grog"..bleah

Things Sterling would hang a man fer...

member (pub)

8:00 - 10:30 Slept 11:00 - 3PM Pillage 3 - 6 pm plunder 6 - 9 pm drink the spoils and sing 9:30 - 2 am Sleep it off 2:30 - 3:00 swordfight. 3:00 - 3:15 bleed 3:15 - 4:00 git stitched up 4:00 - 5:00 drink t' ease th pain 5:00 - 11am sleep Aye!

Roberts pulled a pistol before th' last syllable O' th crazy Irishman's tune reached his reddened ears. He stood there aimin an cursin ol' young Nate summin awful. So blue was th' air that Collard looked to th' sky fer a bolt a lightnin from th' almighty afore he quietly but firmly suggested a shot might be heard by either th Relentless r' the Spaniards. Neither o' which he cared t' see agin so soon. Roberts hadn't released th' charge on account o' two reasons. Both o' his superstitious nature. One, cause if'n th Almighty really did foller this daft lad about..it wouldnt fare well ta be sendin him home. Two because he'd really been a little afraid t' find.. or more correctly not find her. Summin told him she be alive sommere..he wanted t' cling t' that hope. "Aye Mr. Dysart...." he grumbled and shoved the pistol back in his belt. Robert's didn't move from th' spot...just stood an glared out at th sea as if willin himself t' see her 'fore Nate did. Frustrated and now more cross than ever..he threw a few more curses at the little boat and it's lone inhabitant as it receeded o'er th' swells an turned t' do his duty all th' while a prayin in 'is own head. Th crewman before him scattered back to their tasks as well not wishin t' incur th' wrath of an already beleagured Captain. A quiet fell across th' Rakehell save for th sound o' men workin as they should, knowin better n' ta create on more reason fer their rum t' be cut.

Roberts tipped his hat t' th Captain and again crossed th deck keepin an eye out fer Red Cat. He stood a moment aft, starin out at th water. T'all looked clear an was calmin. He shudderd in th' breeze an headed b'low hollerin fer Nate. But th lad was not nearby. Assumin he'd found her sommere, Roberts in the fog of his fatigue decided t' lay in his hammock fer just a moment an then seek em out along wit some coffee. He knowed Red Cat musta been abouts. She was a strong sailor an had been in her share o' storms. However, once his eyes closed, sleep won over an the big man snoreed on like a gale.

Even in his state, Roberts held back a smirk as steam from what had now become a light shower nearly rose from the th heat of th' Captain's ire. Which he wanted no part of. "Change of watch Cap'n..." the big man said plainly. Roberts paused running a hand through his rough beard, raised a brow and let his eyes drift to the Relentless as it turned it's stern on them. ..."Anything ye require for I head b'low ?"

Aye Lass...It's the onions before yer hammock that'll do ye in everytime!