Capt. Sterling

"You need not fret, Lass," he replied. "There be nothing to forgive." He collected his gloves and pushed one white weeper back over his shoulder. "But truly, I am taking an unnecessary risk biding my time here in such a place as this. And if I do not get some rest soon... I may sleep through the night and miss my chance to go home." He looked at her, expression softening once more. "Tis been a tedious and very long month. Please understand, I mean no offense by leaving and you owe me nothing. My opinion of slavery might be different had not I suffered through such myself. There be many a scar I have endured, other than just this slight one upon my hand. I have lived to know it to be a despicable trade..." His face paled as his speech hesitated. For a moment he looked lost some where in the past. Some place he deeply desired not to be. And then his hand closed over hers where she touched his sleeve. He held tightly onto her until the trembling stopped before deep breath was taken. "I did what I done because you were in harm's way. How could I leave you as I had been left?"

full

Ordinary just off the wharf Under normal circumstances, Sterling would have grinned at the girl's steady glare. How determined she was to defend her new mates. But nothing was normal any more. Instead, he only finished his drink and toyed with the dregs at the bottom of an almost empty glass. How quickly people forgot those that had risked their own necks in an attempt to help them as well. He blamed it on the war. He sighed, placed his glass down upon the table and pushed back his chair. "I do not doubt it," he said and stood to his feet. "Forgive me for eating and running off. I have been out in the open far too much since my arrival. Tis time I get myself off to a more private place."

famished

fry

“Understood,” he replied. Once again spoon was put to good use as he attacked the remainder of his meal. “A room would be best once I have filled my stomach. I can lay low there a bit. Surely there is some place about where a coin or two would make certain I am awake come this evening.” He sat quietly for a spell, savoring a mouthful before he chuckled once again. “Barbados, what?” Chuckle quickly turned into hearty laughter before spoon dug into bowl for another helping of meat. “Well seems Hodge went a searching for me, after I had helped ye leave the plantation. Did not make the front gate of his property afore he came riding up. Mighty angry he was too, thinking I had something to do with yer unexpected departure. ‘Sir John,’ bellows he. ‘One of my gals has gone a missing. The very one you took a fancy to the other night at supper.” “Me?!’ Says I." Sterling sat upright, bandaged hand pressed to his chest in mock suprise. "A fancy to one of yer slaves?" I asks. 'All I did was but ask her history and how such a one did come to be employed in the very house itself. Although one could easily see as to why. A clever enough girl she was,” says I. “But surely I would be overstepping my bounds of friendship, as well as being rude to mine host, if I were to take a fancy to the very girl he fancies himself.” Sterling leaned closer to Murin and whispered, grinning from ear to ear. “Well Eddy, he blushes, he does. ‘Tut, tut,” says he, stabbing a finger into his tight neck stock. ‘Oh never you fear. Snug’s the word,’ says I. ‘Your lovely betrothed will hear nothing of it from my lips. We had far more important matters with which to occupy our time and sweeter things to say to each other, whilst you were out worrying about your gals.’ Well Hodge turns bright red at that point and without so much as a by your leave, back hands me across the face. He’s a big brute of a man, as well you know, nearly knocked me off my mount. We were on the ground in a matter of minutes any way and swords were drawn. Ruined my good coat he did, but I got the better of him. Needless to say, we called it a day. Gave you enough time to get away, but sorry I am that it delayed my meeting up with you to see you safely off the island.” He smiled to himself, recalling the event a moment longer before he looked across at Murin again. Spoon paused in flight briefly before he refilled it one final time after scraping the bowl clean. “William Brand, ye say? Know him, I do.” Wine was reached for. “So the Watch Dog is in port.” He shifted in his seat, spied the girl that had been serving them and shouted out, “Plus de vin s'il vous plaît et vite. Et un autre rhum pour la dame.” * Voice was lowered as he turned back about to face his companion. "I may be blind Lass, but God has blessed me with very good hearing to make up for it." *More wine please and quickly. And another rum for the lady.

Sterling chuckled softly to himself. "I see," he stated. "I would not be thinking you would readily sign on with an English vessel, not after what were done to you and yours." He lowered the spoon he was holding and carefully brought his right hand just under table's edge but where Murin could easily view it herself. Linen wrap was carefully drawn back, revealing the mark of "M" branded upon the palm of his right hand just at the base of his thumb. "There are many things, as you well know, that my fellow countrymen indulge in that I do not agree with. I am marked with this for life for aiding in the death of one of the overseers at Trade Winds, in Jamaica. What I can recall of the event, or have been told, he was beating a small, slave child to death. I shot the man," he shrugged. "Let me just confess, that not often am I proud of them that claim the same birth right as myself. So my duty now is more to my loved ones and my own lands as opposed to the crown. I was ... coerced into this war, to put it politely. Still, I want no French overseeing my life and means."

Now, now, ye have to try an amphibious landing...snigger, one of these days!

Their serving girl side stepped close to their table, an old wooden tray piled high with what Sterling had requested, was balanced precariously upon one hip. Carefully she placed her goods upon the board before the two, the drinks last to be turned over. “Merci,” Sterling mumbled absentmindedly as he looked over the meal placed before him. He was hungrier than he thought. Nod was given in dismissal to the young woman and he quickly proceeded to remove his gloves, laying them alongside the bowl of piping hot stew. Still, right hand, lightly bandaged in sturdy, well worn linen, reached for the wine first. “Forgive me if I start. Famished I am. Twas a long night,” he said, drawing a long swig from the glass. As he began to tuck into his meal he added. “Well glad I am that you are safe and by the looks of you, engaged in some sort of… “ he paused before he finished. “… work.”

**Glaring at William** Will ye let the lass get her feet wet first!

Tis about time!

"Sometimes a bee can move an ox."

The worst part about all this is tis usually just one arse in the upper levels saying all what we do is bad.... and from having seen it for years, the kids LOVE what we do, they know it is all fake, none of them have been impacted the wrong way... just the jerk in control of the National Park Service or some squeaky wheel in the anti gun community... time for the likes of us to stop being the silent majority.

Oi Lady, how are you feeling today?

Paper Moon?

How long ago was a few years back? When I was firing the cannons (which was great fun and every re-enactor who's interested should have a go at it), the whole upper part of the wee little cannon actually kicked back off the carriage once. Probably no damage would be done even if it did happen to a kid, but... Remember that they wouldn't even allow the hanging rig to be set up because of the potential psychological impact. Oh I remember..funny how that psychological impact only screws up one idiot in the bunch and he always gets his way. What is that expression about one bad apple?

Gloved hand came to rest upon Murin’s, preventing further search. “Here. Permit me,” he said softly. “Un repas s'il vous plaît. Quelque chose de chaud, quelques fromages assortis et un verre de vin rouge pour moi. Merci.” As he finished, he placed several coins upon the wooden surface, more than enough. The wench collected what was needed and made her way to the kitchen. He produced several more coins and slid them across the table top toward Murin. * “If you are in need, please take these. I am well enough for ready cash at the moment,” he added, his expression pinching slightly as he spoke. Then head lowered, eyes looking away briefly before they closed. “My wife passed recently. In childbirth as did my first.” He looked hard at Murin then, eyes filled with an ache he wondered if she could comprehend. “Why is it, something so special should end in such a foul way? I loved her... I…I…” He shook his head, and collected himself. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the subject as if nothing were amiss in his life. The hard features softened a bit until a slight smile forced itself to draw out the corners of his lips but the ache remained buried down deep inside. “So, pray, tell me, how did you manage to get away from Barbados? I um, rather had my hands full at Hodge’s after things went awry on my end.” *A meal please. Something hot, some cheeses and a glass of red wine for me. Thank you

spurs

Honestly Fort Ticonderoga used to pick a kid from the crowd to fire of their cannons all the time, but that was a few years back... people are so sue happy nowadays that one wonders if they still allow that... And as far as the parents not wanting their child to handle a gun, I would hope then they would speak up and say "sorry pick another child"... they would be really wacky if they didn't....

trade goods

“Agreed,” he whispered. “Though none take much notice of a man in mourning. Them what do, prefer to cross the street rather than engage me with their condolences as I pass.” Instantly tongue changed tack and he began to berate the woman before him in French, complaining of her improper dress. He knew not if Murin understood him and hoped she would not question his behaviour. But he had learned earlier on that she was more than sharp enough to follow any sudden change of lead and he continued on as two men cut through the alley behind her. He breathed a sigh as they moved on without taking interest. “Twas a long night alone in this port. I could do with something to eat, away from prying eyes and a bit of a sleep. My ship will not be able to put in close enough until mid-watch. So I cannot take myself away until then,” He paused a moment and looked her over. “Glad I am that I could help you, and gladder yet that you made it away unharmed,” he said, right hand clenching once again as he tucked it away behind his back.

"Tis true enough what ye say," he whispered with a nod indicating the still drawn knife pointed at his gut. "Grateful would I be if you would put that up and tell me how ye come to know me." Good eye made hasty inspection of who was about and where he was before fixing his complete attention on the lad before him and then with full and proper view, the captain was utterly taken aback. Twas no lad at all, but an all too well armed maid that stood before him. As eyes narrowed, head cocked slightly for better look. “Hold a moment…. I know you! You be the lass from Edward Hodge’s plantation! Damnation Mistress McDonough, never did I think to see yer like again. How the bloody hell did ye end up here?”

He had watched the entire thing, knowing only too well the antics of the so called well bred. He was considered one of their ilk and yet the thought made him all too uncomfortable. True it had its merits… ….Right hand, elegantly clothed in presentation glove, clenched tightly before he moved it to settle in the small of his back. The lad appeared to be in one piece as the horsemen rode on and yet his mind was addled enough by the assault that he had raced off again, something small dropping from his person unnoticed. But not by all. “Avast!” he shouted but the word went unheard and the gentleman was forced to make his way into the lane. Several young boys scurried ahead of him, reaching out to take for themselves what the older youth had lost. “Belay that! That belongs not to thee!” came scolding tone. French words tripped easily from his tongue, such speech well practiced. Young eyes looked upward toward the stranger and then widened before dirty hand reached out to tug at companion’s ragged sleeve. In an instant, warning hand had been slapped away as the other continued to seize hold of the newly acquired treasure. “Have a care Pierre,” followed as a verbal warning as other’s gaze remained fixed on the older gentleman that was fast approaching. “I said belay … stop that! Arrêtez-le! Heed thy betters or need I call the guard on thee?” “Pierre!” The name was birthed in slow hiss, as the first child, crouched over in preparation to flee, inched slowly away from the other. One last tug at other’s arm signaled it was indeed time for the second to pay attention. Even younger face tilted upward, one small hand still clutching tightly to discarded pouch that jingled as it swayed from precarious grip. Face, equally begrimed with dirt, with bright blue eyes, cast about before prize were rapidly discarded once again and both boys turned and ran. He claimed land now deserted and stooped to see several coins had escaped from worn purse. Scattered items were hastily collected yet once more, fine gloves plucking each piece from the mud before being shuffled back into bag, and then tucked into own pocket. He started off, long legs covered ground without too much effort as he headed in the direction he had last spied the young man. It was nigh on an hour before he gave up his search, almost pleased that he could keep the money for himself. Famished, he left the docks and made his way back along the path he had created and ducked into one of the area’s taverns. Already crowded, he entered and looked about, allowing good eye the chance to adjust to the darkened area. Smoke filled haze hovered above the heads of seated men and boys of all ages. The room vibrated with the buzz of conversation and the ringing of pewter tankards making contact with wooden tables. The smells that drifted from the bar and the kitchen quickly reminded him that he had not eaten since the previous night. Perhaps it was luck that brought him here at such the right time. He scoffed at himself. There was no such thing as luck. Putting now growling stomach in check, he spotted the lad he had been hunting, tossing a coin unto a table at the far end of the mob. Inching his way through the throng, he made a made a circle about the room only to come up behind the youth as they both made their way outside again. “So much for supper,” he thought, his insides once again reminding him their interests had been neglected long enough. Before mad chase began a second time, he lunged forward and grabbed the lad by the shoulder and held him fast. “Excusez-moi. Je crois que j'ai quelque chose ce qui vous appartient. Vous l'avez laissé tomber quand les cavaliers vous ont presque montés en bas,” he began. *Excuse me. I believe I have something that belongs to you. You dropped it when the horsemen nearly rode you down.

sneeze

Thank ye for the update.