Dorian Lasseter

'the thinker'

The Devil in Ms. Jones...

:: after much contemplation, he realizes it would be best to take the compass himself, and find the necessary establishment to have it repaired :: :: leaves ship in the hands of the watch, traveling into 'town' to do business :: ::returning late in the evening, retires to his cabin:: ::Next morning, rises early and heads back shoreside, returning a few hours later, carrying a canvas parcel...:: Aye lads, all is well? ::Nods to the crew on watch:: Here we be... all repaired proper like... ::heads to the Binnacle, unwraps parcel and withdraws the now repaired and very shinney compass, places it back in its spot...:: Aye.... tis a thing o' beauty...

Aye, Been goode friends wi' Roderick Hawkyns fer years... reenactment an' such... Francois met him last august... Capt. Gary o' th' Royaliste... top notch, he is... His First Mate, whos' name I's drawin' a blank... Billy Flint, down in Hampton, VA... Tha's all I c'n 'member this early on a monday...

:: climbs back down to deck, goes about the ship checking and inspecting all work in progress :: Carpenters got a full piece o' work ta do... Th' crew's been busy wi' paint n' varnish topside... All lines n' cables be accounted fer... Plenty o' belayin' pins... :: walks slowly back to quarterdeck :: My, tis a fine day.... Ah.. almost fergot about th' compass... ::quickly finds his way below to the armory, pick up a few choice tools and heads back to the quarterdeck :: This aught ta do th' job... :: skillfully dresses and removes several screws and bolts, freeing the compass from its cradle :: Hmmm...... who should I send landside ta get this repaired, 'r should I do it m'self...? :: contemplates this while pacing the leeside of the quarterdeck ::

The seven wives of Henry VIII.....

Alice... (eat me, drink me)

Dusk til Dawn...

Desperado...

Ah... we 'ave a winner....!!!! Correct! Captain Bartholomue Redd....

:: watches as the two Able Seamen carry Mad_Jack down below :: 'e keeps tha' up once we be at sea... I'll feed 'im a jack o' sea water ta fix wot ails 'im... :: looks to Ms. Fitzgerald :: Lass, no worries... 'e cracked 'is head... no real damage done.... *weak smile* All will be well soon enough... :: nods to her as she head below... walks to the mainmast shrouds, climbs up to the fighting top, shades eyes looking in the direction of the cove set for careening.... pulls out spyglass, extends it and peers at the cove :: Ah.... I see Th' Master 't Arms' makin' goode progress... might be able ta get th' cannon o'er this a'ternoon from th' look o' it....

"We come in Peace..."

:: looks at the wet 'footprints' left behind by Ms. Swan.... shakes head :: Gonna hafta get a lad ta mop th' deck a'ter tha' one... :: walks across quarterdeck to the binnacle box, opens it and pulls out a logbook :: Well, lessee where tis ye says ye been... ::flips through book, pausing every so often to read a passage, and continues :: Hmmm... been from 'ere ta India n' back an' more... Well traveled ol' girl.... ::replaces log, notices damage to the compass :: Ah.... breaks th' heart... I'll need ta replace tha' afore we weigh... we's some tyme...

:: smiles to himself :: (Tis goode ta see th' crew workin' well tagether...) Hmmm.... now where be th' Carpenter n' th' carpenter's mates...

I thot the line was; Jest 'cause ye grow older doesn't mean ye hafta grow up... 'r somat like tha'....

Mustang Sally...

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia.... Lydia the tattooed Lady...

AYE!!! I'll not make my ideas wot needs ta be done known... I'l be airing my grievances elsewhere.... But know this.... I agree punishment must be dealt out....... :: downs drink, upends glass and firmly slams it on the bar ::

Aye, Tha'll do....

Aye, Ms. Constance... Ye all has been given permission... We'll not be breakin' out th' cat fer such a wee offence.... Off ye goes, then....

:: looking at Ms. Swan :: Ah, hmm.... right, swimmin'... ::looks at Jack, then back at Ms. Swan:: Oh, these two stout lads'll take 'im down ta th' sick bay ta let th' surgeon right 'is wrongs... if possible... :: ears prick up at the mention of breakfast :: Ah, Christene... th' mornin' meal would be grande... :: nods to M. William :: Rightly so, very well.... All hands ta th' mornin' meal... ye have til th' next turn o' th' glass.... then back ta yer duties! :: clasps hands behind back, gives a close-lipped grin ::

Er..... Mornin' ta ye Ms. Swan... Him? Oh, prolly had too much spirits... rolled hisself inta tha' piling there... No worries, 'e on'y hit 'is head... under th' care of 'r surgeon I's sure 'e'll be right as rain soon enough... An' prey tell wot 'appened ta yerse'f.... seein' as ye look 'alf drowned?

Ah, William... I'll 'ave th' chicken an' a side o' the cornbread... I do loves th' smell o' cornbread... Hows 'bout some infernal concoction of a drink too?

Cohiba... (cuban cigar)

Tobacco....