Ransom

Ai, Madres de Dios!

Ioan had instinctively ducked when the pistol was fired. Then he saw first the boy, and then Sterling himself, fall from the horse. It lunged toward him, and Ioan grabbed the reins, halting the animal before it could bolt. The man on the big bay slid from his horse, and between him and another, the captain was lifted from the ground and placed in the coach, a woman hovering over him, her face twisted in anguish. A beauty, Ioan thought, before the coach horses where whipped up and the vehicle sped away. Without thought, he mounted the captain's horse and followed the coach.

The raport of a pistol shot jerked my attention away from further introspection. People were screaming, and a coach barreled past, its outrider's face grim, his gaze directed toward the other side of the street. I did not recognize the coach, but I could see a single female occupant within, who bent over a figure who must be laying on the opposite bench. What the devil had happened? Quick as a cat, I raced through the milling crowd to where the guard had been looking. Two figures melted into the smaller lane, one in obvious pursuit of the other. The acrid smell of gunpowder hung in the air. In the mad shuffle of people, I caught a glimpse of a pistol kicked unheeded through the dirt by rushing feet. I grabbed the pistol and shoved it into my pocket, then rushed into the lane behind the two men, one of whom I knew only too well. Killingsworth! Who had he killed this time? And who was the man giving him a crushing blow to the head? With my own pistol drawn and cocked until formal introductions could be made, I approached the man remaining on his feet. "Stand fast, sir. I mean you no hurt, but that man is known to me and must pay the price for murder." I gave the stanger a coy smile. "Unless, of course, you mean to kill him this instant, in which case I shall applaud your endeavors and be on my way."

I sat back and blew out a breath. "So, it is a matter of blood. That changes things. Yet, you say Darnley knows nothing of the boy. What of Sterling? Have you told him? Surely he, as the child's father, would come to your aid? Darnley would not stoop so low as to harm or kill his own half-brother? I decided Killingsworth was the least of her problems if she was caught in a blood fued between brothers. Even if they were only half-brothers. Yet, the piece of evidence could still be useful. Killingsworth may or may not know if its loss, as yet. And even if he did, he could not know where he had lost it, or who might have found it. "Mistress, I have great sympathy for your problem, but unless you allow Sterling to help you, I fear you will have no peace, wherever you go. There has to be a way to end the cat and mouse game, if only for your child's sake. You say you have refused the Captains offer of marriage, yet that may be your only avenue of safety." I rose from the chair. "Think on it, Mistress. I will hold the evidence safe. You can contact me on board the Rakehell, if you need." I smiled. "I fear I must be weak in my mind to put myself in your path again, and with no money to pay me for my trouble. But...let us just say, I know of family strife, and how...damaging it can be to ones life." I gave her a slight bow, and, leaving the puzzled guard behind scratching his head, returned to the street. Foremost on my mind was, should I deal with Killingsworth—or make sail for the colonies instead? The next few days would tell.

Ioan had followed the distracted Captain, and was still puzzled by the man's strange behavior. What letter could be worth storming the post at near dawn? What type of letter could warrent such initial joy, then horror? Ioan filed the information away for possible future use. As he continued to follow the Captain, for what lingering reason on his part he couldn't quite fathom, the man's actions became stranger still. Once back at his lodgings, and fobbed off with a bottle of wine, Ioan decided to continue to follow the Captain, expecially after the second message of the evening was delivered and the Captain's demeanor changed again—going from utter dejection, to jubilation. Was the man deranged in his mind? It seemed so. With a shrug he took the offered bottle, descended the stairs and waited in the lessening darkness for the man to come down. A horse was brought round, and Sterling mounted, then pulled the messenger boy up behind him and trotted off. Ioan, still not sure why he bothered, jogged after them. He was in time to see Captain Sterling approach a covered coach, guarded by an outrider on a fine big bay. As Sterling pulled his horse up alongside, Ioan couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught a glimpse of a feminine hand reach tentatively from the coach window, but withdraw before touching the Captain's leg. "Well," he thought, "what have we here?"

I thought about Mistress Mckinney's story. Its complications were manifest. Yes, the monogramed handerchief would incriminate Mr. Killingsworth, but it would not call off Lord Darnley, who would no doubt send another to take Killingsworth's place. But it might buy her time to plan, or escape, whichever she preferred. As to killing the man myself, that could be entertaining, but would not suit my plans at all. I did not want attention drawn to me or my ship. However, blackmailing him could prove profitable, if done with care. That would take some thought. If Darnley had hired him, then the man was an expert at his craft, both of writing and of killing. I did wonder at just what Darnely thought to gain by having the actress returned to him. Surely he had already replaced her with another. Men of his ilk and money were seldom without female companionship. And, if he had invested money in her, what was that? He'd probably lost more to betting on horses or playing cards. I looked at the actress's distraught face. "Mistress Mckinney, Does Darnley know of your child back in England? Is there any chance Darnley would cause it harm, or abduct the child and use it as leverage to bring you back to him? If not, then I confess, I do not see why Darnley would insist on dragging you back to England. Is it a matter of pride? Or simply the abrupt manner of your departure?" She watched me through grief-stricken eyes. It was clear to me that between Darnley, Killingsworth, and the emotinal tangle with Captain Sterling, the lady was close to making herself ill. After a moments more thought, I decided I did not want the trouble blackmaiing Killingsworth would bring me. "Mistress, I will tell you what I posses, and you can tell me if it would help your cause or not. In the strongbox on board the Rakehell is a handkerchief with Killingsworth's monogram in one corner. This handerchief is a lovely bit of fine linen and French lace. Unfortunately, it is quite stained with poor Molly's blood. I found it at the foot of the back stairs, at the Shipp Tavern."

Ioan watched the man stumble to the bar and order a drink. He seemed drunk already, as were most of the other patrons of the tavern. Many of the sailors waved in his direction, and he nodded at them, but did not join them. Ah, Ioan thought, a Captain indulging his crew. He smiled as the local talent accosted the man and attempted to entice him. At first it seemed he might be ensnared by one of them, but some sudden, obvious memory caused him to push the woman away. Ioan had no idea who the man was, but noticed that the lisping lord watched him with eyes like a hawk. As the captain stumbled out of the tavern, Ioan rose from his chair and followed him, sure that, in his current condition, he might be either easy pickings, or in need of a body guard. Both of which might earn him a little silver. When he caught up to the man, he touched him carefully on the shoulder, and asked, "Sir, you seem to be a mite in your cups. Can I offer any assistance?

I watched Sterling approach, just as the door to the room opened. I gave the obviously hung-over captain a polite bow. "I would have a word with your guest, sir. I mean no harm to her person." He appeared distracted in his mind, and barely nodded in my direction. Mistress McKinney motioned toward a chair as Sterling gave orders to the guard to remain on duty. I was surprised at his departure, and could tell Mistress Mckinney was saddened that he had not remained. There was no mistaking there was some bond between the two. How it would affect the outcome of our discussion, I wasn't sure. I picked my way through the broken furniture, and sat on the chair she offered. The lady made herself comfortable on the bed. "Mistress, the other night you made it clear you were in some kind of peril from the fop lanquishing at the Shipp. I know the man to be a Mr. Killingworth, a playwrite of dubious character. If you could bring yourself to confide in me, tell me the nature of your peril, I might have a way for you to escape from under his perfumed thumb. " I gave the actress a conspiratorial smile. "Of course, I would want some compensation, but I assure you, I possess an item of priceless value. An item that would make Mr. Killingsworth think twice before he accosts you in any way again, or ever. Are you interested?"

A friend of mine sent this to me yesterday. I did think it ws strange they thought the pirate craze had hit in the mid 90s, when I know there were pirate groups way back in the early 80's, if not before. I was surprised to see that No Quarter Given is headquarted in Riverside, where I was born, and lived until I moved to Or, back in 1991. I've been to their web site, but I guess I just never noticed where they were based. Duh! I just wonder how many of the new "pirates" will be around after the last POTC movie is history?

Ioan was still too angry to stay on board the Rakehell once he had sent Africa off to guard the cannon. What he wanted was drink. A lot of drink. Enough to put out the fire that stil raged within him after the Captain's ill treatment. Without paying too much attention, he stormed into the first tavern he came to, paid for a bottle of rum, and threw himself into a chair. After two swallows of the raw, cheap liquor, Ioan looked around. He was in a dockside dive, full of drunk sailors and one obvious stranger with a closely shaved head. When a few of the sailors let it be known they were from the Archangel, the stranger became quite interested. It amused Ioan to hear the man's lisping question. But it also angered him. It was clear the man was no dockside worker or common sailor. He might not be wearing silks and velvets, but his voice and mannerisms gave him away for the rich nob he most assuredly was. Slumming it with the lower classes, Ioan thought with contempt. As if a change of clothes could make him one of us. Ioan drank more rum and watched the imposter, his own suspicious nature wodering just what or from whom the man was trying to hide.

It took a mere half an hour to find out where the actress was holed up. I heard of her return, along with that of Captain Sterling. After a few more questions, I learned she was under vertual lock and key, and creating a bedlam of noise. With a smile I approached her place of lodging. I took the stairs two at a time, but when I reached her door I discovered it to be guarded. A man stood in my path, his brow lowered, a pistol pointed at my chest. Yet I could tell he was distracted by shouting and the sound of breaking crockery coming from the room behind him. I made a face in the door's direction, as if in sympathy with the poor man's delema. "Bored is she? Well, I may be able to help you." He cocked the pistol. "No. No need for that. You needn't glare at me as if I were the devil incarnate. I'm not here to kidnap, run-through, or shoot Mistress McKinna, although I think, at this point, someone ought to strangle her. And as even a wretch like yourself can see I'm a woman, I don't think you need worry about assault of an indelicate nature. I wish merely to talk to the lady." When the guard still seemed reluctant to let me pass, I shouted at the door, "Miss McKinna, it's Ransom. You'll remember me from that little fracas at the Shipp Tavern last night. At that time, in your own unique way, you requested my help. I think I may now be of some service to you in that regard. What say we talk a little? I'm bound to say, it will be much more advantageous to you than smashing what little furniture remains. I gave the puzzled guard a wink, and waited.

Ewwwwwwwwwww!!! (only if you serve white wine) Sorry, sorry!! Sure, but I'd prefer a nice shiraz, or maybe a valpolichella (?)

Ummm.... don't you mean a half a body massage followed by a gentle filet??? (Sorry, HAD too!) Hummm, would that be a massage with olive oil, rosemary, and maybe a bit of red pepper flakes, to stimulate the circulation? **I know, I know, "sick mermaid joke"**

Funny, I thought they were talking about the Cheeky Actress, Mistress Mckinna?

"Ah, I love the smell of nepa...err...gunpowder in the morning.

Definatly something with a metalic shimmer, or look. A deep ocean green with silver? Although, I kinda like the Japaneese Koi look, just 'cause it would be so different. I have Koi, and they come in awesome colors that would look super on any mermaid. Be sure and post a picture when you're finished and wearing your new "skin". :)

My cabin aboard the Rakehell was stuffy and hot, yet I stayed below, pondering what to do with my bit of evidence. I held it in my hand, staring at the monogram, trying to remember where I'd seen the fop before. I thought back to my two seasons in London, my mother dragging me around to all the right parties and theaters, praying I would lure and catch a husband. I attracted several, who nibbled the bait, but none of them took the hook. They had problems with bait that bit back. I was vastly relieved when my mother, in a fit of despair, left the city and returned to Thornbures. Next season I was shipped off to my Aunt in Italy, where it had been hoped a rich foreigner would overlook my venomous nature. Yet, I was sure, at either one of those mindless London parties or plays... Plays! I fingered the fine lace of the handkerchief and smiled. R K—Reginald Killingsworth. Last seen at the theater, sitting in grand estate next to the aging countess who had funded his latest play. Sipping wine, eating sweetmeats, and dabbing at his mouth, no doubt with this very handkerchief. I unlocked my strongbox and added the bit of bloodied lace to its contents, then re-locked it. If Mistress McKinna was in such fear of the man, then the contents of my strongbox might be of use to her. And if it was of use to her, might it not mean a bit of the shiny for me? It shouldn't be hard to find the woman. Mayhem seemed to follow her wherever she went. Gossip in Port Royal, I suspected, was better than the English Royal Post. I'd find her, and then we would discuss business. Hopefully to our mutual satisfaction.

Oooh, I'm 5' 6" — Fear me, fear me.

[/img] Here is our ship's cutter - Rateye! It was wonderful meeting up with you Cap'n Pete! Hummm... Looks suspiciously like someone I've run into in Port Royal. 'Cept there he goes by the name Reilly.

Ioan stormed through the clogged streets of Port Royal, shoving away those unlucky enough to block his way. His anger boiled like hot tar. The whore, he raged, how dare she treat him so? He felt the stinging wound in his neck as if it were a brand. Had it been anyone else, he would have killed them on the spot. He might kill her still, when the time was ripe. But not until he was in a better position to take the Rakehell for himself. However, he would not forget this day. She would pay for the mark she'd left on his neck. Oh yes, by God, she would pay. It was only then that he remembered the letter to Morgan, still in his pocket.

It took an hour to find a suitable place for the storage of the cannon and powder. Not so much because room was scarce, but because trust was. Even with the stableman's assurances that the gift would be guarded "as if it be me own child" I didn't feel comfortable leaving it. Nor could I ask Ioan to stand guard over it again. He'd made that clear before I'd even asked. "No Captain. With all due respect, but I'll not play wet-nurse to that hunk of metal another minute," he said with finality. "Then go fetch Africa. He can do guard duty for a time," I snapped with impatience. Ioan hesitated, anger flaring in his expression. "I've done my watch on that cannon. Tis only right someone else relieve me. No reason to bite my head off over it." I held back my first response, which was to take my pistol and point it between his defiant black eyes. The stable owner, sensing the tension in the air, backed away, but hovered near the door to the lane so I couldn't escape without paying him. I took a step toward Ioan. "Unless you wish to either seek employment on another ship, or get your head blown off, rather than merely bitten, fetch Africa. Now!" Rather than leave, he stepped closer, his face flushed with fury. "I'll not take that talk from anyone, not even you." Without taking my eyes from his, I slipped the rapier from my belt and flicked the tip to the pulse-point of his throat. "Do you honestly think I run my ship to please anyone but myself? Do you think, after all this time, I have held it by being sweet and kindly to my crew? You are not the first to underestimate me, Ioan, and you won't be the last, but by God, unless you do as you're ordered, I'll open that vein in your neck so wide you'll be swimming in your own blood right where you stand!" I watched his fingers twitch next to the knife he carried in his belt, smiled and pricked the skin of his neck. Crimson seeped, beaded, and trailed into his collar. "But give me an excuse to continue, I beg you." Slowly he brought up a hand, wiped his neck and inspected the blood on his fingers. A cold grin lifted the corners of his mouth."Point taken, My Lady Captain." He gave me a slight bow, then turned and left the stable. I watched him go. His actions and anger had shown me what was in his mind. If he thought he could take the Rakehell from me, then he was already a dead man. I flipped the cowering stableman a coin, and put my rapier point at his eye. "If anything happens to either the cannon or the powder, your view of the world will become a bit narrower." "I promise, Miss, I'll guard it with my very life!" "Yes, you will." I smiled, returned the rapier to my belt, and left the stable. I needed privacy, and time to think. The only place I was guaranteed such, was in my cabin on the Rakehell.

I slipped the Rakehell in at midnight. Next morning, a little bribery of burgundy, a little prevarication, and all was well. Welcome to the game, mate! From a captain of dubious nature! Ransom On board the Rakehell

Thank ya, Bess. And might I say, You're a good sport, what with all the grilling you get about the POTC movies. You've handled the praisers and the nay-sayers with aplomb. Cheers.

I ignored Ioans's rantings. The stained handkerchief in my pocket occupied my thoughts. To what advantageous use might I put it? How far dare I push the fop? Hard to judge, since I knew nothing of him personally. Nor did I want to. I abhored his kind when I lived in London, and he had given me no reason to change my opinion. Odd, though, that he had been so careless as to drop the handerchief in the stairwell. I wondered if he realized, as yet, that it was missing, and could betray him? I considered returning to the Shipp, just to study the man I might decide to blackmail. "You're off in the clouds," Ioan remarked, peering into my face. "Just thinking. An act I'm sure you are rarely aquainted with." He glared at me with his dark Welsh eyes. "Smarter than you think, My Lady Captain. And that's small thanks for the hot service I've just done you in Sir Admiral Morgan's courtyard." I turned cold blue eyes on him. "Yes, and I've heard that your devoted service also included an evening at a tavern and a night with a whore. Please, don't play the martyr with me." He bridled. "A man has appetites. You can't be expecting him to go a day and a half with no food and drink. It's a cold-hearted woman you are if you think otherwise." I laughed. "I know all about men's appetites. Just drive the bloody horse." He turned sullen eyes to the lane as the wagon made its way through town. I fingered the bit of crimson-stained lace in my pocket, and traced the raised embroidery. R K

It was almost noon, and the courtyard was sweltering. A pile of dung and a pool of thickening urine had collected under the horse, attracting flies the size of starlings. Heat waves shimmered off the polished cannon. And there was still no sign of Morgan. Ioan had watched the arrival and departure of the captain of the Resurrection, the delivery of food goods by a local merchant, a visit by a functionary from the Governor with a messenger bag full of important papers, and three other petitioners for the Admiral's favor who lacked Ioan's patience, and after an hour, had left. Ioan's patience was also at an end. He was hot, hungry, and tired of batting flies. He climbed up to the driver's bench, snapped the ribbons, and turned the horse back to the road. He was halfway to the docks when he saw the captain of the Rakehell. With brow raised, she askd him, "Well, what happened?" "Not a bloody shiten thing!" he snapped. "Morgan never showed. Only ones to get in the house were the food and ale merchants, and a word-beetle fromt the Governor's office. Everyone else was left to sweat themselves to death in the courtyard. That would include yours truly, and your fancy cannon—on which at this point you coud no doubt fry an egg on the barrel." She thought for a moment, then climbed up beside him. "Let's find a place to stow this until Morgan turns up. I'm not going to waste time reloading it on to the ship." As the wagon rumbled along, Ioan took the opportunity to enjoy the captain's close proximity. He was sure, given enough time, he could win her over. So far, his dark charms had never failed him. He did not intend to fail with her. Besides, he very much wanted to know more about her, so he could use that knowledge to his advanage. Who knows, he thought, it might get me a fine ship.