The Doctor

Chief Inspector Dreyfus

I shall return presently with a fresh shift of clothes, sir. Captain, Mr. Lasseter, quite sharp I must say! And Doctor... simply sparkling. :: Jack bows slightly, and heads off to change his clothes for dining on the French ship. He attemtped a jaunty gait despite his mildly aching leg, and the sudden cold knot in his stomach at the thought of stepping aboard that French vessel... He dug about in his sea chest and located his good frock coat and waistcoat, his best breeches, and a clean shirt. He ran a damp rag over his boots, as the distressed leather was beyond regaining a shine. Polishing his weapons took little time, as he was meticulous in maintaining their condition. He splashed some water on his face, deciding there was no time to trim his beard. He tried his best to tidy up his past shoulder-length hair, and gave up on that as well. He fetched a clean red headscarf to contain his tousled mane. Onced dressed, he checked his hat in the mirror, and sighed heavily. "Perhaps, just perhaps, I am worried about nothing" he thought to himself. Jack made his way back to the gun deck to rejoin his crewmates, and to see what dish Fate had on the day's menu ::

Good morning, sir! And aye, Rummy is a talented one! :: He noticed the Captain's clothing, and very quickly after, that of the Doctor. He stammered with surprise :: I take it there's some high-flown soire' about to take place?

A Christine pin-up calendar? Ooooooo -- I gotta have that! :)

:: Smiling at the lack of answer from within, Jack continued on to the main deck ::

:: Jack rapped quietly upon the door of the surgery :: Doctor, are you there? You wished to examine me, and I am available if your schedule accommodates...

I'm "Neutral Good"? Must be an off day for me...

Working in my home office, listening to my cat snore, and enjoying a pleasant thunderstorm.

rug burns

:: Jack smiled at the Captain's desire that he return to active duty. He watched Captain Brand ascend to the ship's hallowed ground, the quarterdeck, and thought to himself that while he had been bred to command, William Brand was an honorable man that he could follow without a second thought. Jack made his way over to Rummy, and accepted her artfully crafted walking stick. :: Rummy, I am indeed honored. You are an impressive mistress of your craft! This cane's beauty is excelled only by your own. :: He smiled at Rummy's blush, and in exchange for her wonderfully made walking stick, he gave he the ruined oar he'd been using :: A poor exchange, I know. Perhaps, if I could purchase you an extra dram or two of rum for your trouble?

Oh, thank God! To never have another cup of Cafe Latte from Cafe Du Monde, or pralines from Aunt Sally's in the French Market, or a genuine fried shrimp and oyster po' boy, or dinner at Antoine's... I know, it's selfish, but I love the food there!!

That was one of the things that worried me right off the bat - is Cafe Du Monde still there? I love blowing powdered sugar on newbies...

I know now that Buccaneers can kick the arse of Vikings, even on a Sunday. Not a shock, but disappointing, all the same.

PYRATES!!

:: Jack was walking through the companionway toward the main deck, lost in thought. While the violent fever had somehow most of his shattered memory, nagging gaps still remained. He had spent the past few days remembering his service to the Crown; the patrols off Gibraltar and Ushant, the decisive action against French forces at Sardinia that had earned him the Order of the English Empire a scant two years after making captain, his service as a privateer in the West Indies. And the mutiny. Part of him knew that it was not his fault, for he had never misused anyone under his command nor slighted them their shares. Nevertheless, it was an event that he would never forget, and certainly never forgive those involved. Especially himself. The intervening years, those where he was marooned, rescued, and scrabbled out a living as a pirate... the madness had clouded and twisted everything into an incomprehensible mess. Perhaps he would one day know what happened. Perhaps he was better of not knowing at all. He knew that the Doctor and the Gascon would keep his secret, for it would never do to reveal his past. Not now. Doing so might at the very least undermine Captain Brand's authority with the People, and at the worst mean Jack's death at the hands of a distrustful crew. So, continue the addled ruse he would, even as he struggled with old comfortable habits of military formality while on deck. In the midst of his reveries, he almost collided with Captain Brand :: Captain! My apologies, sir. I should have been paying more attention. Quite a tangle that would have made, and neither of us sound enough avoid more harm, eh? :: Jack smiled, shoving his worries back into their dark corner :: I'm well, sir, thank you for asking. Recovering nicely, thanks to Dr. Fitzgerald. Seem's the fever unlocked a few memories. I can tell you, it is nice to know my own name again. Perhaps I'll remember more as time passes. And Rummy's made me a cane to replace the oar shaft I've been using. I was just on my way to get to from her. How are you, Captain? What with our two unexpected consorts and the odd goings on as of late, that has to wear upon a man. You seem to be bearing up well none the less, sir.

Dear Lord, those Cuban sandwiches were wonderful! Easy, tasty, and perfect with an ice-cold Guinness! :)

fowl play

And now she's regained hurricane strength, presently setting her designs south of Charleston, SC. Like Shakespeare's Ophelia, this storm is confounding and hard to predict. God bless and protect all in her path.

Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!

Nasty as the north end of a southbound dingo, eh, mate?

I can find lots of feathers!

Gaelic Storm's How Are We Getting Home?

a healthy romp... especially with someone ticklish!

:: Jack turns back to the Monsignor, thunderstruck by Diego's revelation :: Bloody hell... a woman, you say? I should want the Doctor's confirmation of this, to be sure! Where is our Surgeon?

Ticklish Mary, Queen of Scots!