Ransom

Bon Voyage, Miss Devareaux. I, too, will be "out of town" from Friday until late Monday night. Please, no one kill me or mine off while I'm enjoying some R&R on the coast. I remember what happened to poor Killingsworth, the last time I took time away! Regards, R

Would you get to watch "blue" cheese movies?

Is that better than made in Shri Lanka?

Umm, let's see. My other nearest neighbors are Hispanic. Do I claim their yard for England?

Jacky offers her a hand, but will she take it? "Oh, I'll always take your hand, luv, but can we leave that damned wonder bra story alone?" As for Jane, I'm sure she'll do more talking—when she's ready. Probably to Striker!

Ioan was at first miffed at the rebuff. After all, he'd helped safe the bloody man's life. He gave the captain a curt nod, and left the cabin. It did not prevent him from lingering nearby, to see who the visitor might be.

I think it's giving me a headache, what about you?

Why do I feel like I've stepped into quicksand, and am sinking fast?

Didn't you both play that game already? No, wait that was M'dear Captain Striker. Oh no, he only showed me his. Well, maybe not on purpose, 'cause he was drunk at the time. But I did find him a hat!

So many toys, so little coin. I clicked into their marine art page, and the three painting they show are awesome.

No one ever expects the Spanish Inqusition, do they?

Ioan winced as the dried blood on his back stuck to the fabric of his shirt as he removed it. The fresh shirt soon covered the mess, and Ioan faced the couple. The woman's eyes watched him with distrust, and he couldn't blame her. The evening had been a strange one. He nodded to the Captain. "Your lady friend here did a good job on your Spanish souvineer. A few days rest and you should be up and about, with nothing more than a nice new scar to add to your collection." Ioan took another goblet from the tray and poured himself some wine, since no one had offered. He drank down half, and smiled. Even watered, it was good. Then he turned back to the bedridden man. "My name is Ioan. I am recently of the Rakehell, but her Captain and I had a falling out, so I am...taking a bit of shore leave." He raised the goblet to his host, and downed the rest of the wine, and winked. "I might be wrong, but it appears the former owners of your vessel want it back."

No, that part I got right. And I don't have Fredian undergarments. Mine come from Victoria's Secret.

I walked casually along the streets of Port Royal, my final destination the Rakehell. But my mind was clouded by the forthcoming meeting with the mysterious Devareax's. All my instincts told me to avoid the meeting. Instincts I had learned to trust. Not that I hadn't conducted shady business dealings before—it was how I made a living, more or less. None, however, had involved seemingly nefarius booksellers who had violin cases chucked through their window, secretive Gypsies, and sunset meeting in old churches. It was all too melodramatic, as if the set up was meant to intimidate before any meeting took place. But I needed to unload my cargo before word of what it was leaked out. It was too perilous to attempt a voyage to the Colonies now. Word of my "aqusition" had probably already reached Boston, its intended destination, and my contact in that city would undoubtedly refuse to deal. Inwardly, I cursed the day I'd overtaken that French brig, wondering why she'd dropped her colors so fast. When I discovered her hold was full of gunpowder, I understood her Captain's fear of being fired on. Now most of that cargo of powder, arms, and shot lay sleeping quietly in the hold of the Rakehell. It did nothing to ease my mind that, until I could safely unload, my ship was a floating bomb. As I passed the Three Crowns I saw The Actress step down from a coach and enter the inn. I studiously avoided that side of the street. I had been embroiled in enough of her adventures, and the lace handerchief in my strong box was no longer of any value, other than to wipe my brow in style.

Ioan stood in the darkness of the lavish cabin. One side of his shirt was bloodied where he'd assisted the Captain back to his ship. Between him and the woman, who had introduced herself as Jane, they'd almost had to drag him the last few yards. Once abed, he'd passed out, and Jane had tended the knife wound. He assured her that he would stand guard until she could catch up on some much-needed sleep, and so he had. Despite the pain in his back, he'd enjoyed the fight, and thought the Captain had handled himself well. The woman as well, who had bandished her jagged glass with fierceness. He shifted his stance, arms crossed, wondering why this man had been ambushed by the Spaniards, but as it was obvious the ship was of Spanish origins, Ioan had a pretty good guess.

It's clear Jane doesn't want to talk about whatever is bothering her, so I sit back, sip my coffee, and let Striker tell his tale.

"Dearest Ransom, I must differ on this point, I think ye have it backwards. The fantasy has been grand; that is reason enough not to post pictures! Pictures bring into the light of a day a shell, which is not lit from the inside. Words here reveal so much more." OMG, I can't believe I wrote that backwards!!! I meant it the other way around. No, really, I did! Gives self a thump upside the head, mumbles "Where was your brain, girl?" Edit, I need to edit!!

False the aquatic sea beast.

The Spanish had thrown Ioan off guard. Spaniards? In Port Royal? But the sudden raport of a pistol drowned out his question. He instintively ducked, then fired his own pistol at the assailant who had turned to find out who was behind him. He dropped with a groan. Ioan kicked the man's firearm away, then stepped over him. The heavily armed man had backed against the wall, the woman behind him, the jagged neck of a broken bottle still in her hand. "Are you alright?" Ioan asked the pair. "Are you hit?" The woman said nothing, but her companion pointed a pistol at Ioan. Before he could decide whether to fire it, more booted feet came pounding from the other side of the alley. "No time for introductions, mate," Ioan snapped. "Point that pistol at the bloody enemy, not me. And if you've got a spare, you better pull that out as well, I think we're outnumbered." With only his knife left as a weapon, Ioan stood, feet braced, ready for whatever came next.

Ioan, with his new shiny clinking merrily in his pocket, left the Shipp Tavern and the continuing mayhem there. He decided it was not the best place to spend the night, so he headed out the door behind a man and woman. The man carried an arsenal of weapons. Ioan paused in the street, trying to decide where he should get a room, when he saw two men fall in step behind the couple. "What's this, then?" he muttered, and at a distance followed the followers. Ioan was still in want of a good fight to vent some of his pent-up anger. If he could earn a bit more money by saving the couple from robbery, then so much the better. When the armed man pulled the lady into an alley, Ioan grinned and crept closer to the two assailants who followed. Although it was dark, he could see the glint of steel and flintlock. Pulling his own pistol from his belt, Ioan stepped behind the two men and whispered in a cordial tone, "Looking for something, mates? Mayhap ya found more than you were bargaining for, eh?"

Late breakfast—my usual. Stash English Breakfast Tea, bowl of Grapenuts with raisins or sugared chopped dates added, milk poured on, then nuked to heat.

"Still workin' on me garb; should have a waistkit by the end of the month. When my garb is a little more complete, I'll post a picture. Sides I'm a bit camera shy, and I want Ransom t' keep writin' wit' me!" Never fear, luv. Why do you think I've posted no pictures? Fantasy is never quite as...fun, as reality, is it? Maybe we should do a "I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours" picture exchange!

"The old church, at sundown? Alone?" I eyed Trilby with frustration. "Why don't you just put a pistol to my head and shoot me." We sat once again on Trilby's rooftop patio, after I had received a message delivered to me by Souris summoning me to the Professor's house. I did not like this clandestine arrangement. It put me at the mercy of people I didn't know. Trilby glared at me. "Yea wanted a meeting, now yea have one. Take it or leave it." "You've dealt with these Devareax brothers before. You think I can trust them?" Trilby lost all patience. "Hounds of the devil, I nae think yea can trust anyone, these days. But you're in nae position tae ask questions. Yea can trust them about as much as they can trust you. Does that tell yea what yea need tae know?" "I suppose." I leaned back in my chair and sipped at the strong, minted tea he had served. "But I wonder, should I leave you a copy of my last will and testement?" He snorted. "I want nothing tae do with anything of yours." Then his expression changed. "Unless...yea wouldn't happen tae have a wee bit of mercury on board, would yea?" I lifed a brow. "Why, you suffering from the pox?" He caughed, spilling his tea. "Bloody-minded woman, I'm nae suffering from anything. I need a bit of mercury for some...experiments I've been working on, that's all." I gave him an evil grin. "Sorry, I can't help you. Maybe you should ask the Devereax brothers if they've any to spare." Trilby shot back. "Why don't yea ask them yourself, as you'll be seeing them before I do." "So I will," I mused, "So I will."

I can't tell if Jane is heartened by this speach, or whether she'd rather hide under the table in embarassment. Clearly, she's been on a ship before and knows he way around, but why is that something that needs to be kept secret? I reach out and touch the woman's arm. "Striker is being very noble, and what he says is true, but I get the feeling there is something about your past that worries you, and that is the reason you are so nervous." I gesture to Jacky and Striker and myself. "God knows there are things in our past we don't like talking about. How else would we come to such a profession? Your secret, whatever it is, is safe with us. So, have no more fear. Eat your breakfast." I smiled at her. "And, I think you have just had three offers of safe haven on the ship of your choice, although I'm sure Striker is hoping you'll chose his fine vessel."