The Doctor

Aye, sir! On my way! :: He makes his way back to the Armoury, and sets about arranging arms and ammunition for quick distribution. He pauses, and turns to the Gascon :: Armand, mon ami... Under the circumstances, the Doctor cannot argue that I am in harm's way. Please, return topside if you like. Should we see action, I'd rather you be among those giving our foes a warm reception. I'll find you if need demands.

:: Jack defers to Mr. Warren in matters of the ship's barge :: My apologies, good sir. Old habits, eh?

:: Jack makes his way to the gunwale, looking first at the crippled Dutch ship, then at the French man of war bearing down on us. He returns his attention to the Dutch ship, watching the edginess of her crew as the French approach :: My, this could get ugly, indeed. I do hope our Dutch "friends" behave themselves this day... :: Jack turns his attent to the crew on deck. In tones that carried no overt urgency, but much authority, he began to instruct the barge crew to make ready, and for a handful of select men to take up arms :: We shall do nothing to alarm our Dutch "guests," nor shall we react in haste to our French visitors. They mean to impress, not engage. We may be vigilant, good sirs, and prepared. But it a soul takes up arms out of turn and without instruction, I shall personally dump your shrouded corpse over the side. Now, look smart, gentlemen. We have company to prepare for.

:: Jack smiles appreciatively at Dr. Fitzgerald. He gains his feet, using his upper body strength to do most of the work :: Thank you, Doctor. I understand your concerns, and I do appreciate it all. And you understand my nature. I promise that I shall not stray from Armand's side, and I shall return to your care should this be little more than an exchange of salutes. Now, to my effects... :: Jack readies himself, and as quickly as manageable, he is more or less presentable for duty, armed, and using every available handhold in lieu of a crutch to make it topside. The sunlight is excrutiatingly bright as he reaches the main deck. Leaning up against the bulkhead, he spies an oar in need of repair. He takes it in his hands and smashes off the cracked paddle against a barrelhead, fashioning a makeshift walking stick from it. He makes his way furhter out onto the open deck, and looks back to the quarterdeck. There, he see the Captain, Quartermaster, Bosun, and the Doctor :: Captain! Good to see you up and about sir! Master At Arms, Jack St. Anthony, reporting for duty, sir!

:: Upon hearing the cry of "ship astern", Jack reflexively reaches for the loaded pistol he customarily keeps hidden in his bedding. He curses quietly in frustration, since he had been stripped of arms in his previous fevered state. He sits upright on his cot, and looks squarely at the Surgeon :: Dr. Fitzgerald? I understand your convictions to date concerning my health. But in all my years of dealing with ships, I have neither looked upon one nor shot at one with my leg. I swear to you that if our ship sees action this day, I shall make every attempt to get shot in a different extremity rather than reinjure my knee. :: He continues looking at the Doctor with a practice expression of "Your move" upon his face ::

:: Jack stirs from sleep, and slowly looks around the quiet Sickbay. He notices that the door to the ward has been left propped open, allowing the morning sounds and smells of the ship to drift down to him. He can hear the the voice of the ship, with it's creaks and rustles, intermix with the break of the water against her hull. He longs to see the sunrise, and that spectacular moment when the horizon turns green just before the upper limb solar disk breaks into dazzling view. The gentle undulation of the ship causes him to remember exactly why he chose a life on the sea. Without thinking, he begins to sing ever so quietly... :: Candlelight dies at the window And the night wind blows soft from the sea Though I lie in your arms, I'm a thousand miles away On the waves sailing fast, sailing free Now I'm bound for the heart of the ocean I'm riding the sea in my soul In the dark and the deep She will rock me to sleep Down below... where the black waters roll When the sea birds cry out in the morning And the sun lays its kiss on the sand I'll be drawn to the shore Like so many times before As I long to be far from the land. Now I'm bound for the heart of the ocean I'm riding the sea in my soul In the dark and the deep She will rock me to sleep Down below... where the black waters roll I can still hear your voice on the trade winds I can still taste your tears on the foam But the lure of the tide that I'm feeling inside Will not rest till my heart finds its home Now my heart is the heart of the ocean There are storms from the sea in my soul I'm restless and deep And before I can sleep I must go... where the black waters roll, where the black waters roll...

:: As he listened to Dr. Fitzgerald's rejection of his request to resume normal duty, Jack smiled wanly :: I understand your concerns, Doctor. And, of course, you are correct. Under normal circumstances, that is. You and I know that these are anything but normal circumstances. Despite my normal inclinations, I cannot pull rank of station in this matter. Please, stop smiling, Doctor. You make it ever so difficult for me to argue sternly with you! I will acquiesce to your wishes and remain under your care until you are satisfied. Please do me the favour of extending my compliment to our Captain and Quartermaster, and also inform them that in the passing of my fever, I have managed to recall my own last name in addition to other fractured, incongruous memories. :: He cocks his head and winks mischieviously :: A bloody feat 'at Ol' Jack's found a marble or two t' claim 'is own? Funny ol' world, ain't it?

Oh, I'm looking over my dead dog Rover, who I hit with a power mower. One leg is missing, the other is gone, the third leg is scattered all over the lawn. No need explaining, the one leg remaining is spinning on carport floor. I'm looking over my dead dog Rover, who I overlooked before! How friggin' sick is it that I recalled that from memory?!

:: Jack watches the arrival of Mr. Pew, and wonders aloud about yet another assault aboard the Watch Dog. :: What's all this? Another of our crew harmed? One of those Dutch devils loose below decks, no doubt. :: heavy sigh :: I can lie about here no longer. I must speak presently with the doctor about returning to my duties as quickly as possible. Not to mention introducing myself "properly" to the senior officers... :: He catches a questioning glance from Armand. Jack smiles and winks in reply :: Haven't ye heard, mate? Ol' Jack's got himself a right proper last name, eh? :: Armand chuckles and shakes his head, and returns to looking after Mr. Pew. "L'humeur de l'Anglais est très étrange." ::

:: Jack hears the good Monsignor's voice at the door of the Sickbay. Having walked twice from his bunk to the writing desk, then back again, he was just settling back to rest his leg :: Monsignor! How good it is to see you! Please, Armand, let him in. I have a thousand questions for you, Father. How is the Captain? And what of these Dutch slavers and their vessel? Have we made a prize of her?

Shake 'n Bake!

This is the Irish Heritage Festival of the Faire. Should be a good one, since it's being sponsored by Guinness!! I'll be there Sunday. :)

Parrot Heads!

Minnesota Vikings :)

Tube Steak Boogie - ZZ Top

Deal 'em!

Roulette

:: Jack totters across the Sickbay deck, focusing on his balance rather than the pain. He appreciates the encouraging presence of the Doctor and Armand, emboldening him to press his progress without worry of injuring himself further. The revelations of the previous evening seem to have forged a bond between the three, even though not another word was spoken on the subject. Jack smiles as he reaches the writing desk, with it's sweetly steaming prize awaiting him. He listens intently as Dr. Fitzgerald describes the events that should ensure a full recovery. He is looking forward to returning to duty as quickly as possible, knowing full well that he will miss the almost constant company of these two remarkable souls. Their reverie is broken by the sound of someone knocking at the door. Jack watches as Armand's lightning reflexes respond to the potential threat posed by whoever is on the opposite side of the door. He tries not to laugh as Armand slowly swings open the door to reveal the steward, Miss Smith, her eyes the size of dinner plates as she stares down the muzzle of Armand's pistol. He quickly stows his pistol and welcomes the shaken steward into the Ward with a gallant flourish, locking the door behind her. But whatever humour that could be found in the previous moments evaporates as the Doctor reads the note Miss Smith had brought her. We are apprised of what has transpired with the Dutch slaver ship, including the conditior of her crew and human cargo. And with a world-weary look upon her face, Dr. Fitzgerald conceals a weapon within her cloathing, gives the note to Armand, and heads topside. Jack is well acquainted with the business practices of the Dutch slavers, having on more than one occasion boarded such vessels for inspection as they passed through English waters. On the whole, he had little use for the Dutch, and even less for those who ply their trade in human flesh.

OK, 3 times through of Pink Floyd's recording of "Comfortably Numb" with the headphones on, and I've finally got that other crap out of my head... phew! :)

I don't know why I listened to it, but I did... The Scissorsisters' utter bastardization of Pink Floyd's "Comfortaby Numb". It sounded like the Bee Gees and Abba took acid and decided to band together and ruin good music.

"Daylight Stranger" - Gary Puckett and the Union Gap Try this one... "All grown up and no place to go, Psych 1, Psych 2, What do you know? All your life is Channel 13, Sesame Street, What does it mean?"

Not in Minnesota...

:: Jack enjoyed a final draught of brandy from the Doctor's flask. As he listened intently to the physician's words, he noted that she too pays as much attention to how something is said as to the words themselves. More training from a noble house than she is willing to divulge. No doubt a skilled negotiator. Coupled with her innate loveliness, a potentially devastating combination. His mind raced as she attended the nick on his neck, back across the years, thinking of how much has been stolen from him. Finally, the Doctor dims the lights and prescribes rest, and Jack is suddenly aware of how much time has passed, and how very tired he is :: As you wish, Doctor. And I thank you. :: He settles into his bunk, quietly pondering the odd bond between Tempest and Armand. At long last, sleep wins out... ::

Charity, love... please accept a very warm and heartfelt hug. I do understand. :)

Drunk on tequila... I think I'll wait before cracking open the Guinness...