Ransom

The timbre of his voice was soothing as warm honey. I smiled. "Oh yes. My father ran your kind off our land at least three times that I know of. I was told you stole babies, raped women, and sold spavined horses." I turned to face him, our bodies only inches apart. "My father was not an intellegent man."

Bee

I laughed. "Hardly. No, I am no virtuous maid, I admit. Otherwise I would be snug in my husband's bed, and not on some remote beach, making deals with an arrogant ... Manouche." My voice lowered, and was filled with the relief I felt at his admittance that he had not given the order to brand Killingsworth. "I'm glad you did not order that branding. I don't know why it should make a difference, but it does. I like you better that you did not."

I turned to face him. "And I, sir, think it a shame that a voice of such mellow grace could order a man branded. We both have our faults, Sebastian, it is the way of things."

While I watched Africa row Lambert to the ship, I said, "You're right, Sebastian, I don't owe you a bloody thing. I was just trying to be civil. If you prefer rudeness, I can provide that as well."

"You think you need protection against one woman? I'm flattered. Alright, the man with the boat is Africa. He'll row Lambert to the Rakehell." "Captain, I don think dat a good..." "Just do it, Africa. I want this transaction over and done with." I approached Sebastian. "Truly, I am sorry for your lover. If I had known, I may not have bothered to save the man. I held him only to see what might be gained by it. As it turned out, I gained nothing but a bloody handerchief, as I gave the Englishman here Killingsworth's pistol. So you see, I received poor recompense for my trouble."

Looks at Joaquin and the water dripping on the floor. "What did you do, Jacky, use him for a boat anchor?"

I met his dark, wolfish gaze without flinching. "So, it was you, then." I took a step back, uncocked the pistol and put it back in my belt. "Yes, let's deal...Manouche. I have powder, shot, and muskets. What have you got to buy them with?"

"If that's true, then you should take great satisfaction in knowing that the man is dead. Poisoned by his cousin, I hear. I'm sorry for the murder of you lover, he deserved die for it, but no man deserves branding." A black dread gripped me. "Was it done on your order?"

Without lowering the pistol, I nod to the Englishman. "He knows me. I have that knowledge because I saw him attack and take Killingsworth from the ally. I saw him in the boat that took Killingsworth to the island. I saw what was done to him, for it was myself and members of my crew who removed him from the post, dressed his wounds, and kept him alive. You want to deal, that's fine. But that man does not come on board my ship."

My palms suddenly went cold with sweat. It was the grim reaper. The man who had carried Killingsworth off to his beating and branding. I pulled my pistol from my belt. "If that Englishman takes one step closer, I put a bullet in his eye. I don't intend to end up with a crow branded on my chest." Keeping the pistol pointed at the reaper, I snapped, "I offered you safe passage, Sebastian. French, Italian or Turkish, I don't give a damned what you are, but that man is not part of our bargain."

My laughing turns to gagging, as the cheesehead hat smells like blue cheese mixed with hair oil. I fling it into the bushes, take a gulp of fresh air, and head back to the bar, but not before removing the battery from the tombstone. Back inside the Pub, I see Red Cat is still in histerics, and it looks like she's stepped into Eyes pancake plate. Ray has opened a window. I leave the door open and the fresh breeze waffs the fugue of Joaquin's making outside. "Ray, I'll take a shot of Tattoo, if you don't mind. Maybe it will wash the taste of cheesehead off my lips.

Africa turned to me. "What da problem? He be French, aint he?" I watched Sebastian ride back to the trees. "Apparently not. I think I've insulted him." "He name Sebastian. Dat be French." "He's gypsy. To be honest, I don't have any idea where he comes from." Africa snorted. "Well, he dress like dem Frenchman on de ship we stole this cargo from. I bet he French." With my eyes trying to pierce the darkness of the shore, I replied, "French or not, I still think I insulted him." I grinned. "The night's business hasn't started out too well, has it?" "Let hope it get better. We like ducks on a pond in dis cove."

Okay, since only Jacky made a guess, I fess up. 1. I was an artists model for five years, working through a So. Calif. art center. It paid for my college art extension classes. 2. I was not sold at a wench auction. To be technical, it was an SCA event, and I was bartered for in exchange for being a servant for the day to whomever bartered the most. 3. I have been on the Lady Washington three times, so yes, I have trod where Jack Sparrow and Will Turner trod.

Creak of oar and soft slap of water against the hull were the only sounds as Africa rowed us closer to shore. The mounted rider was barely an outline against the backdrop of palms and shrubs. Yet, I would have known him anywhere. Sebastian. At muffled thud and a rasping of wood on sand the boat came to a stop. Africa stood, and quickly lept over the side to hold it steady in the receeding tide. I stood as well, an odd, almost sensual excitment gripping me. It was the danger, I thought. A thing I lived for, or I would not be what I was. A sudden urge to laugh griped me, at the sheer joy of it. No man bent on wooing maid, had ever met under more romantic cicumstances. With one hand resting lightly on my belted pistol, I addressed the rider. "So, Frenchman, are you ready to take a little boat ride?"

I bought a vintage 1940's German pen with a fine flexable nib....(for $25.00) I wish the nib was a little finer and more flexable... but it works...... Thanks. You sure do a nice job with it.

With a smile, I saw the familier form of horse and rider. I turned to Africa. "Lower the boat."

Once on board the Rakehell, I return to my cabin. A few minutes later Goose knocks on the door, then pokes his head in. "Ye needin' anythin', Captain? I got a nice pot o' fish stew goin'. I can bring ya some, if ya like." I plop down in my chair, and lean back. "No. I'm not hungry. But bring me some tea, would you." Goose eyes me a minute, then says, "Ya want me ta add some rum to it?" I shake my head. "Rum isn't going to help this time." He gives me one last look and shrugs his scrawny shoulders. "Tea it is then."

The thickly jungled shoreline gave no hint of human or animal presence. A brilliant, waxing moon sent ribbons of pale gold over the water. No bird called, no insect trilled. No other signal was given, nor did anyone approach the ship. "Wot we do now," Africa asked. "Dey not going to make de first move." Inwardly, I smiled. "They are playing a bit of the cat and mouse with us. I asked for this meeting, so he's waiting for me. Take a lantern to the bow. Cover and uncover the light three times. Let's see if we get a reply." As Africa went to fetch a lantern, I glanced to the fighting top, where Jimmy and Tunny were crouched, muskets ready. At the bow, a light blinked...once...twice...three times.

From the velvet darkness of the night, and the darker, verdant shore, a light blinked on, bright as a fallen star. The signal. I turned to Africa, and said softely, "Take her in as far as we dare. I don't know the depths here, and, heavy as she is, I don't want to run her aground. Have Jimmy take soundings, and see what kind of bottom we have." "Aye, Captain," he replied, then gave orders to the others. Slow and cautious as a cat, the Rakehell slipped into cove. As the sea bed slowly rose to meet the keel, I ordered the anchor dropped when there was twenty good feet between the ship and the bottom. Africa returned to my side. "Do we take da Jolly boat in?" "No. We wait. And stand by to hoist that anchor fast as you can, in case this all goes to the devil."

Having no idea what Joaquin's last meal was, I grab a cheesehead hat, put it over my mouth, and laughing hesterically, run for the door.

Bar-B-Q

Hmmmmm, now let me think! (And a fine job it was, too)

That's awesome, Patrick. I went back through the thread, but couldn't find where you said what kind of pen you are using - unless I just missed it. So, what kind is it? BTW loved the ink drawing of the skull.

Rain. The real stuff. It's pouring outside!