The Doctor

Jack awakens to the calls of alarm on deck, and his head immediately feels as if it is being crushed in a vise. Too much grog and not enough food. No time for self-recriminations, he thought. He rose and dressed himself as quickly as possible, checked his arms, grabbed his cane, and headed topside.

The weekend is approaching, so it's time to play with food again. I'm planning a homemade pizza (thin crust) with alfredo sauce, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, toasted pine nuts, mozarella cheese, and fresh basil. :)

Daughters of the Devil - My Lady's Cutlass

"An excellent sh'ggestion, my friend. I would apprciate th' help." Jack slurred. Armand gestured to Mr. Lasseter that he would be helping the inebriated Master At Arms to his billet. With that, Jack was soon safe and snoring in his billet.

"Armand, mon ami! Isn't it a beautiful night?" Jack asked, obviously still enjoying the spell of Bacchus. He dropped his voice much lower as he leaned toward Armand, who attempted to tactfully distance himself from the smell of rum, "I may have said something earlier this evening that upset your si... the Doctor. I asked her how she knew Capt. Fournier, and she took her leave quite suddenly. If you see her before I do, please let her know I wish to apologize for prying."

Nodding a salutation to the Quartermaster, Jack enjoyed the bit of dizziness that followed. "Aye, sir, still up. 'Twould be a shame to waste the rum in me belly by fallin' asleep just yet. That star up there has an unsavory twinkle about it. I'll be keepin' an eye on it, just for safety's sake."

You nailed it on the taste, Eric. I couldn't stand the stuff.

foreplay

third eye

alphabet soup

Jack saw the change in Tempest's expression, and knew immediately that he'd said too much. He bade her good night and watched her depart the main deck for her quarters, Armand in her wake. Jack toasted the empty air. "Sparkling work, Jack. Nicely done, killing the conversation that way... Idiot." he said ruefully, and drained his tankard.

Jack reaches out to help the Surgeon steady herself. While he knows she had simply taken a faulty step, he could not help but tease her a bit. "Aye, madam, my state of mind is indeed far less troubled than before. It would seem your's is none the worse off for the extra rations, either" he smiled. He chuckled at her playfully exasperated look, and continued with his answer. "You might say that Capt. Fournier and I have sat at opposite sides of the table before. Just never in such a genteel setting. The ship we toasted, the Atlantica, was carrying me to my first command when she was taken by a French patrol off Portugal. Atlantica's captain was a bit full of himself after outrunning a Spanish patrol, not realising that they had herded us into the arms of the French. Fournier was a junior officer, a midshipman I believe, on the lead ship, under Capitaine Morieau. We were treated quite well, if one can call being held captive comfortable. It delayed my taking command by several months, as you might imagine. I managed to make up for the inconvenience more than once. "My greatest fear, once I realised that is was indeed Fournier, was that I had put our party in peril. Silly of me, since Fournier had us on his ship. Where would the sport be in that? No, that would not be our friend's style... And speaking of 'friends', my dear Doctor Fitzgerald, he seemed to know you quite well... It's a vast ocean, but rather a small world, wouldn't you say?" Jack let this last question hang in the air as he sipped once more from his tankard.

outhouse

Jack hears the rustle of the Doctor's dress as she joins him at the port gunwale. He turns to her and meets her smile, his own smile a bit too broad from the rum he'd been enjoying. "Good eve to you, dear Doctor. A fine night, is it not? The perfect finale to a day replete with good food, good rum, and now, good company."

Jack walked the deck, cane in one hand, tankard in the other. On this warm evening, he had forgone his usual kit for boots, breeches, a loose shirt, and headscarf. He made his way to the foreward section of the main deck, preferring to look out over the empty expanse of water rather than watch the consort vessels around the Watch Dog. He sipped his grog as he thought back over the day's events, silently damning his jumpy nerves and worrisome nature. "Fournier is not the type to make a move without all due contemplation. You always were and impatient chess player, Jack" he thought to himself. He breathed deeply as he felt the rum slowly wash over his concerns and numb them. The sea, the wind, and the sails sang their songs to him, and he found a moment's peace.

Especially with pyracy, sorting out historical truth from "traditional" truth is easier said than done. And a hell of a lot less glamorous. :)

Jack took a deep breath at the mention of the Atlantica. All those years ago, the ship that was carrying him to his first full command aboard the Brig HMS Panther was jumped and captured by a French patrol near Lisbon. While not formally at war, the two nations had expended a considerable amount of energy capturing ships and blockading ports. The Atlantica was one such English vessel to fall prey to French predations. Her crew were taken captive and repatriated unharmed, but the memory of having been a French prisoner was not especially pleasant. Fortunately Jack was only a passenger, so no blemish came to his Naval record. Fournier was a junior officer on board the ship that served as a floating prison house for the Atlantica officers. He had been a watchful, quiet man; preferring to observe the "cordial" interrogations without actively participating. Fournier had progressed to a station that did not surprise Jack in the least. He had been impressed then, and he was still impressed. Jack raised his glass in kind. "To the Atlantica! And how is Capitaine Morieau these days?"

Admittedly, I've got Jack Sparrow overtones to my garb. And I'm not giving up my tall boots - where would I put my flask if I did? Faire booze is too expensive! I intentionally kept some of the Sparrow look but tried to keep a fairly strong historical bent as well. So there I go, staggering between the two worlds...

Jack bowed slightly to the frenchman during his introduction, his eyes never leaving the other's, all the while affecting a cordial smile. Now face to face with Fournier, he knew. Expletives of a most ungentlrmanly nature ran though his head, but his face remained calm. "Now, just ignore me, you dog, and pay attention to the Captain..." Jack thought.

Jack stood upon the deck of the French frigate with his comrades, his face impassive as the initial pleasantries are exchanged. He realised that his palm was sweating, and he clasped his hands behind his back in a sort of parade rest stance, trying to force himself to relax. His eyes never left Fournier's face. There was something far too uncomfortably familiar about him...

:: "That's it, Jack, old boy. Keep breathing. Not as if you haven't been in this position before." He examined the Gallic frigate as they approached her side, and a nagging thought swirled frustratingly out of reach. "Fourier", they had said was the French captain's name. Jack's fingers drummed the butt of his pistol as he tried to sort out why that name was familiar. His nerves betray his in a quietly spoken display of gallows humour :: I trust that this Captain Fournier fellow is schooled in the proper and hospitable usage of those guns his crew spends so many hours polishing?

No, actually I'll be there Saturday the 17th. I'll make sure to introduce myself tot he crew of the Bloodwake. They sound like a fine lot.

"Her Majesty" - The Beatles Here's two lines only, just to make it interesting... "I'm a tiger when I want love, but I'm a snake when we disagree."

My desktop weather monitor screeching that I'm under a Tornado Watch until 2:00 AM Tuesday. Good thing I like thunderstorms... :)

No, good Doctor. I'm afraid not. Unless you know of a way to keep me from overdoing things that does not involve restraints. I assure you, I am well. Simply preoccupied, nothing more. :: Jack smiled at the Doctor, and he could not help but notice her striking elegance. It was difficult to believe that this delicate creature was the same person he has seen in a blood-soaked apron, disheveled and weary from putting some poor sod back together. He decided to try and dispel concerns about his emotional state :: Captain, is she always on at you like this, as well?