Capt. Sterling

dead drunk

Ugh!

ack!! WILLIAM!!!!!

**eyes Syren** rise up to it eh? **chuckles** And to ye Lady, many happy returns of the day! The drinks are on my tab.

Magical? I would hardly call green eggs and ham magical. More like routine on my ship when Bess is cooking...

Where is Red Wake? I am starving...haven't eaten all day.

filch

requisition

seize

Great Balls of Fire

Having worked on a number of "historical" films, I have run into too many directors who claim..."history just isn't exciting enough on its own." They seem to feel that it needs help....their version is always so much better... so they say. But to give them their due, they aren't out to teach history, they're out to make a movie that appeals to the masses and make a ton of money off of it.

**

By all means, have at it... just don't use me as a target... just be careful where you swing that thing!

**

Sterling was out and continued to move as quickly as his body would allow him. At one point he had stopped and turned the red coat inside out before putting it back on, the plain linen lining no longer causing him to stand out. With one hand he pulled the garment tightly about him, the other he kept close to his face. As his stomach continued to turn cartwheels, the world continued to spin more furiously about him. He needed to make the beach but he knew in his current state he would be dead before he succeeded in such an effort. His only hope was to reach Nelly Greene's, the only place close enough that might offer him a moment of comfort, safety and most importantly help. He would lay low there until evening. He quickly wiped the blood from his good eye and tried to right his course, before ducking over and heading off again. He pushed his way through the crowds, like a fish fighting to move upstream against the current. Avoiding people was nearly impossible and finally he felt himself slam into some unfortunate being. He tried to continue but her voice as she berated him was all too familiar. He turned, hands lowering as good eye tried to focus on the old creature whom he had trodden upon and he actually recognized her. "You!!" "Joh..." his name was silenced as he brought his hand down hard over her mouth to shut her up and then hurried off, dragging the actress with him. He found himself repeating the orders to "come along", his vision growing worse, forcing him to stop several times to get his bearings. No one paid the slightest attention to the couple and he knew as long as he could keep Lilly quiet they might make their destination. But by the time they reached Nelly's home, it was the actress who was practically carrying him. Wiping her bloody hands upon her apron, she led him in through the back door, and hurriedly locked themselves inside. She turned in time to hush Sally and watched, stunned, as Nelly Greene, silken skirts gathered in her delicate hands, ran down the stairs. The other woman crossed the distance between them quickly and with tears in her eyes, threw her arms about Sterling's neck and kissed him. "Oh thank God, you will be safe now," Lilly heard the blond woman whisper as the actress stood to the side, seemingly forgotten.

Very true... both William Red Wake and my character have backgrounds as white slaves during the GAoP. Sterling was held for three years before being ransomed, in Algiers. William and I are currently working out a "discussion" between the two characters regarding their different experiences, his positive, Sterling's far from positive... tis how he lost his eye. A number of good books about covering the topic. Now the interesting thing about it is, when I mentioned that there was both black and white slavery occurring during the 17th/18th century... the African Amercian kids in my classes called me a liar... "whites were never slaves"... boy did I blow them out of the water....

Sterling quickly ran his fingers through blond locks now turned dullish brown from filth and blood, and bound it all back into a disheveled que. The guard’s hat was cast aside and bayonet reclaimed. It had been easier than he had reckoned upon, especially after he thought all lost. He had risen to his feet so rapidly when the other man approached him, the cell reeled drunkenly about him and he believed he was going to pass out. Obviously the guard had believed along the same lines and went to his aid. It had been all too convenient after that. The bayonet had been the easiest weapon to draw and he found himself with guard in his grasp and the triangular blade pressed hard against the stunned man’s throat. Clothes had been exchanged, the guard bound with the linen bandages he had brought, and now all that remained was to get past the others. Sterling took a deep breath, the room still spun about him and he struggled with the need to be sick to his stomach. He knelt down besides the other man. “Sorry I am,” he whispered as he placed the tip of the weapon against the guard’s side. “I am assured by my Gunner,” he continued. “That as long as ye keep this from festering, ye shall be all right and yer mates will think ye done yer job to the best of yer means.” He turned the bayonet upward and pressed it home. The guard squirmed in Sterling’s hold, his mouth bound against his cries. Weapon was withdrawn and allowed to clatter to the cell floor. Sterling straightened again, blood still running freely from his own wound, he pressed his hand to the bloodied,left side of his face, concealing the tell tale scar and staggered out into the hall. Heavy door was forced closed and locked. Keys were pocketed in slightly oversized coat and he yelled out the alarm. He moved quickly toward the sound of running feet, head down, until the first of the guards made contact. He was seized and glanced over hastily then came the questions. “Trouble,” was all he whispered and then he was pushed aside and ordered to the surgeon. The others ran past him, disappearing down into the bowls of the prison. Each time he was moved further away from his captivity. Each time he was ordered to the surgeon, until soon, he found himself leaving Marshallsea prison in broad daylight. His problem now being, he had no idea where he could go.

William, surprised I am, Cheeky...not in the least...now what did you do?

Back at school....no one taking pot shots at cars today...

Just think... another Mission...

Down with a migraine... do extend my most humble apologies to Briar and ...ahem... Capt. Lasseter, but I fear I must pass on dinner this evening. Another time.

Sterling waited, making promises under his breath to God, to change his behavior, if this once, things would unfold with the success he had enjoyed so when he was younger. But the waiting seemed to increase and his shallow promises now echoed back in his mind, ridiculing him for believing that God would indulge in such deceitful practices. And the head wound, he had troubled all the while for a purpose, now bled freely, running down into his face as scalp injuries were so want to do. If the guard refused to do as he asked, he had only now made matters worse for himself. He wiped the flow with the end of his sleeve, now wishing he had thought all this through a second time. But his sigh caught in his throat as he heard the key placed in the outer lock and with a stern whisper of caution, the door to his cell slowly opened.

Hmmm still some ice cream cake left over from Josh's bday....hmmm...

Thank you...always hunting....

warp drive