The Doctor

Spidey Sense

:: Jack stretches in his hammock, and is in mid-yawn reminded of something he's neglected as of late. He rises, stows his hammock, and proceeds to the main deck wearing only his breeches and the usual headscarf that holds his mane of long, curly brown hair in check. He sleepily acknowledges the crew coming off their watch, walks to the gunwail, and doesn't stop... The shock of the cool water wakes him fully, and he starts swimming a lazy backstroke. He sees some of the crew looking over the side, and smiles as their alarm changes to laughter. He finishes his swim and climbs back aboard, and goes back to his berth to fetch fresh clothes ::

:: Jack walks along the gun deck, and begins to ready the crew for Mr. Youngblood to run them through their paces :: Gun crews, to the ready! Gunner's mates; check the location and quantities of your shot, powder, slow match, and wadding! Gunners; check your matches, but please do not light them yet. On the starboard side - step lively there! :: watches with satifaction as the crews take their positions and double check their equipment ::

The song that describes the way I wish to be this weekend - Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd

limelight

Dirty Laundry - Don Henley

"Brilliant!"

:: Jack hurries to the main deck, after uncharacteristically oversleeping. He gulps down a cup of too-hot coffee, and moves quickly to where the dinghy is stored. He has a couple of able seamen take the lines to lower the boat into the water :: Aye, Mr. Lasseter! I'll have our Mr. Morgan among us within mintutes! :: Jack gives the order, and the men lower him into the water, where he begins rowing vigorously to shore . In twenty minutes time, he's back alongside the ship with Morgan ::

"You're hired!"

:: raises his eyebrows at the sight of the frantic Mr. PEW on the shore :: Aye, sir. Looks like he's had enough of dry land, or those what live there... :: Jack calls for a boatsman to take the dingy and retrieve Mr. PEW. He gives the young man a serious look... :: No wasted time, mate. There and back, quick as ye please. And keep a sharp eye. :: The lad's eyes widen as he acknowledges Jack's advice, and quickly the boat is in the water and heading for the shore ::

All part of procuring medical expertise for the good Monsignor. The Captain knows the story, sir. And if he wishes to add it to his effects, that's fine by me.

RUM!!

Iron Man

Iron Butterfly

Aye, Mr. Lasseter. Repairs are complete, she'll be sporting the fine sails Kendra made shortly. Sir, I want to turn this over to you for inclusion in the ship's general armoury... :: Jack pulls a pistol from his belt, and hands it, butt first, to the Quartermaster :: This is the pistol I... obtained while I was in town. Given the circumstances, I'd just as soon not keep it.

Mather was the quintessential hell-fire and brimstone looney tune. And his brother was right in there behind him.

heart transplant

heartburn

heart-throb

Conquistadors

"Hold my rum! I'll only be a moment... " I think John Wayne had the best one ever, in True Grit - "Fill your hands, you son of a b*tch!"

Incas

:: Jack stirs from a restless night's sleep. The events of his second journey into town still weigh on him, crowding his mind whenever he begins to relax. It's not the fact that he shot the man in the tavern. He's killed his share of men, when the killing was necessary. No, what bother's Jack the most is the expression of surprise on the would-be-hero's face as Jack's shot burrowed into his chest. Jack muttered to himself... :: What did he expect, the stupid git? That I would stand there and get shot in the back? Bloody gentry... :: Jack finishes dressing, and pauses to retrieve the dead man's pistol from it's place among Jack's effects. He regards it for a moment, and tucks it into his belt as he heads topside for some air, and hopefully, home coffee :: I'll turn this over to Mr. Lasseter for adding to our armoury. I'm not above keeping a trophy, but not one taken off a damned fool...

'Til Tuesday

:: Jack slows the water barrel to a stop, and looks back over his shoulder in the hopes that Simon was paying attention. Seeing that a collision was not imminent, he turns to the mountain of a man. He tries to hide is astonishment that a single man is carrying two barrels half-full of foul water :: Simon, be so kind as to carry those two barrels down to the shore? Give them to the men with the large pot of tar. :: Simon glowers at Jack, then looks to Kendra. She nods her head, apparently instructing Simon to finish the task. Simon shifts the considerable load on his shoulders, and brushes past Jack on his way to the shore :: Thank you, Simon! There's a good fellow! :: Jack quiets his voice, talking more to himself than anyone around him :: ... and take care not to eat anyone on your way. :: He turns his attention back to Kendra, who presents him with not one, but two beautiful new staysails for the Samson :: What, you've done two? Did you not sleep last night either, good lady? :: He examines the tie-points where the sheets attach to the sails, and is happily surprised by their strength :: These are wondrous, indeed! Thank you for all your work on them. I'll get them to my men straight away! :: He stands there, smiling at Kendra, almost forgetting that he has sails and a barrel to deliver ::