Capt. Sterling

mess

sailor

Tailor

imp

Now that would be an equally nice plus as well, but no... but we do have the fellow that helps put the words in Tony's mouth!

rascal

Welcome to the pub, lad! Good to have some fresh blood aboard.

blockheads

"Bloody hell Josiah, tis only Morning Watch," Sterling grumbled wishing he could just roll over and fall back to sleep, a habit he had never be able to master. 'Aye Sir that is right. Not yet four bells," Symms said, setting a dish of hot coffee on the table. "I've some of that wretched brew the Empress sent off with ye. I don't know how ye stomach that horror!" "Just as well," Sterling said pulling his old banyan on over one shoulder as best he could. "It saves the chocolate for Aurore...I am sure that she would desire that more." "Yer pipe is laid out fer ye, Sir," Symms said, coming to his captain's aid and adjusting the banyan into proper place. "Mr. March has already gone to pay off the preacher." "Thank ye Josiah, tis good to know." "Same as afore fer yer dress?" the old steward asked, burgundy coat already brushed and laid out. "I think the black and silver," Sterling said leaning pipe down over lone candle flame. Symms's old eyebrows arched in surprise for a moment prior to body huffing in rebuke... "And ye wanted to sell it!"

Ah sorry to hear that Mad Jack, although I hope ye all have a grand time of it on yer cruise!! But if there be a way ye can attend be sure to give us a hollar from across the room as the crewe of the Archangel would be honoured to meet you and yours. If there be a chance of ye attending a lecture of our surprise guest, I'll see if I can't get the specific times and post em here. Second clue: Other items that he has worked on: Secret History; Empire; Worst jobs in History; Battlefield Britain (BBC television); and he is currently working on an as-yet-unnamed 6 part documentary series on pirates for the History Channel. Wonder how much of his info he learns from Captain Twill...

Symms reached out and paused. Drawing back he stopped to fathom the dilemma that lay before him. Should he run the risk of shaking the captain awake by laying hand on wounded shoulder? He was asleep on his good one. Should he perhaps… no that would never do… “A-ha!” the old man crowed then placed his hand on his captain’s head and gave it a good shake. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Sterling said, his voice changing quickly from mumble to roar. “Tis time ye were getting up, ye great lazy oaf. Had a time of it last night did ye? Put ye and that Mr. March in the same pub and tis always the same thing… but pity I do have fer ye… I not be wantin ye to be leavin that poor lass all alone at the altar… but if ye don’t get yerself stirrin…” his eyes narrowed. “Ye bloody well are gonna be late!” Sterling rolled over onto his back then sat up. “Where is Aurore?” he asked. “Where else would she be on her wedding day?” Symms replied. “Home… most likely dressed and waiting with that brother of hers… I’m warnin ye, if ye don’t be getting that broken old carcass out of bed yer going to be one disappointed bloke!”

He had gone down to see the master of the house. Mr. Browne smiled as he handed over the broach Devon Burke had delivered earlier on. Unwrapped it was examined then carefully tucked into pocket for future use. Sterling knew it was nothing special but twas all he could afford as a special token…and yet he knew she would smile and wear it for him at the church. “Thank ye,” Sterling said turning to leave. “Good luck, Sir,” Browne said with a grin. Sterling looked back, with a nod and a bow of thanks. “The best of luck to ye both.” He made his way now through the night crowd, threading around the boisterous, thirsty and hungry, until he made the back room. The door left close, was now set ajar and he could hear March’s thick accent finishing up introductions. As he made his way into the room he saw Skittles smile at him, she offered a slight lift of her chin toward the circle of men in the far corner. “God’s blessings on you both,“ she whispered in Norwegian as he passed…one of the few phrases he had actually managed to conquer in her native tongue. The Archangel’s navigator, Peter Straw, bowed as his captain entered then shut the door behind him. Sterling looked over the ship’s often times makeshift Chaplin, bible in Straw’s hand, the captain’s small sword and a broom crossed at his feet. He listened then, his attention turning to the knot of people Skittles had so happily pointed out. At their head, Andrew March, upon witnessing his captain, redirected the attention of the guests he was attending. As first officer turned to face his superior in title and equal in all else, smile suddenly burst forth on bearded face, as dark eyes signaled it was time. Noticing the language of silent words passing between Captain and old friend, Sabastian Devareaux turned to see Sterling and with brilliant grin stepped aside to reveal dinner’s most honored guest. He would always remember as the men surrounding her parted. He felt his throat tighten, his eyes forcing him to blink back the emotions that nearly overwhelmed him... The first thing he recalled when he saw her, was that afternoon... how he felt when he had laid eyes on the Archangel safely moored at the far edge of the harbour. A peace had settled over him, something he could never find the words to explain to another living soul no matter how hard he tried. His ship would always be his place of refuge, his place of serenity, his home no matter where the times took him or so he had always believed... in the moment he saw Aurore, her eyes fixing on his, he knew that was no longer true. As beliefs transferred from ship to the woman who now crossed to him, he knew his life was finally making a change for the best.

He had been bathed, shaved, combed, and fussed over by Symms for nearly an hour. He would have been better with a bit of sleep and something simple to eat. Wounds attended and redressed it was time he was as well. Clocked white stockings and worn but well polished shoes and buckles were quickly shined once more with a pass of the old steward’s elbow. “Here, give me those,” Sterling growled as Symms attempted to place one foot into long white silk. The old man looked up from his position on knees, hand with stocking paused. “Intend to do it yerself do ye? And how with that bum arm of yers?” “There is nothing wrong with my arm, tis my shoulder and back,” Sterling said snatching the stocking from the old man’s hands with mock annoyance which quickly turned to childish grin with his success. Symms rocked back to rest upon his heels as lord and master tried valiantly to dress himself. “Stubborn ye are,” Symms said snatching back the item and continuing where he left off. “Sorry I am fer that young lass. To be puttin up with the likes of ye fer the rest of her life,” the steward chided. Sterling slunk down in chair, arms crossed casually in front of his chest as the old man continued on his usual rant. With ribbon garters set with bows finally meeting approval, burgundy wool breeches and heavy waistcoat of silver cloth was also put into place. “Sorry for Mistress Devareaux?” Sterling said then yelped as his own hair was tugged unmercifully with horn comb. “Aye that I do,” Symms muttered. “Ye could do with a bit of a curl.” “No!” “Here, I’ve just the thing,!” The old man remarked hunting down a length of silk narrowswear. “A love lock fer yer lady.” And the ribbon was fixed at the end of several tresses as Sterling rolled his eyes. “Well then I am glad ye approve,” Sterling said as burgundy coat laced in silver was slipped with gentle caution over damaged torso. Symms continued to brush invisible objects from coat’s sleeves as Sterling tried to get away from him. “Easy to approve of one that truly cares fer ye,” Symms said, the captain’s hat, gloves and sword now ready. Sterling paused. “Tis an unfair thing for ye to say about Mistress McKinney,” Sterling said. “I am entitled to my opinion, Sir,” Symms replied, setting the waist carriage buckle. “And with this new lady, I think we both can be happy. There!” the steward added as he stepped back. “Tis about time ye had a reason to wear that suit. Tis a fine gift from the Empress. Mistress Grey truly knows a well cut cote.”

Sharks

Sterling shook his head. In mid-motion shake turned to nod. "There is a broach, garnet and topaz in the local jeweler by the mantua maker. I would be grateful if ye would be so kind as to make the purchase for me. I must be getting back to the docks. I am certain my boat has been waiting there to take me out to the 'Angel for neigh on an hour or more." Quickly he passed over the necessary coin and bowed to Burke before both men headed once more out into the damp early night. Sterling looked above, by the time he brought her to the ship, if Aurore was so willing, the skies would be clear and the stars would grace the heavens for her alone. Then they parted company. The captain broke into a slow jog, making his way down one street and then another until buildings soon ceased and the land gave way to the ocean. He skidded to a halt, his eyes quicky moving over the horizon of masts and yards of dozens of ships, but it did not take him long to find her. Anchored now at a distance from the others, where no one could come upon her without notice, a place where both she and Aurore could be safe, rocked gently with subtle wave upon wave, The Archangel. Every time he saw her, she took his breath away. He took a moment longer, content just to stare. Soon he would be making his way home, but first... "I know ye can hear me, ye old goat. Please come tonight. It would do me an honour to have ye present," Sterling said out loud. A woman passing, shot him an odd look and side stepped away from him. Sterling chuckled, a grunt was all the reply he got and then he hurried down to the docks to find Bosun Dogge and several crewmen of the 'Angel waiting about. Andrew March joined them as Sterling approached. The first officer bowed, partly. His action interupted by the appearance of his captain. "Should I be askin?" March said, giving his captain a once over. Sterling shook his head, "No, you should not," he said and made his way into the ship's boat. "Come along gents... I am in a hurry."

"A dinner...in honour of Mistress Devareaux. There is to be Monseiur Devareaux, eight of my officers, Aurore, myself, ..." he looked at Burke a moment, his mouth open in mid thought. "And of course, Christophe Lambert. Also, I would like to extend an invitation to my shadow... Seth Childermass, if he would be so inclined to accept it." If not, Sterling mused, odds are the old giant would be hidden there some place any way.

I most certainly do... and ye have not have one made yet by Skittles have ye?

The Steer achieved, both men entered, Burke pausing just beyond the door. "Here," he said, "And what might the business be... looking the way ya do, I'm tinkin they'll be tossin ya back out before they even begin to carry on a conversation with the likes of ya, Captain." Sterling's eyes narrowed a smidge regarding the smirk on Devon's face. and the blatant verbal nudge. "Tonight's dinner... it needs to be moved here," he replied. "Mistress Devareaux said there was a private room here to be let, even at this late hour."

Are you sure you want to pass that up?

"Mr. Burke,if ye please. Time is fleeting and there has been a change of plans," Sterling announced. Spying Childermass in the corner, the edges of his lips curved upward ever so slightly. He gave a wink and then a respectful nod of his head in gratitude. "Mr. Burke," he repeated redirecting his attention back to where it had begun. "If ye would be so kind as to accompany me to some place called the Dancing Steer, I would be most grateful." Sterling waited as Burke collected himself, already Childermass had made his way out into the streets. Sterling sighed. His person finally relaxing as breath was expelled from tired lungs. It was nice to know, in the world of Le Cour, he was no longer alone.

I think a warm scone with clotted cream... care for one too?

He looked down into her face and sighed, for a moment a sparkle surfaced in his eyes. "God Chere, ye do that and it makes it hard on a man to leave ye," he chuckled. He kissed her than and as she released him he gave a sweeping bow, all the more comical by his current appearance. He passed through the open door, came back for first one kiss and then a second. Upon his third, with a laugh, she pushed him carefully back out into the hall. "Je t'aime Chere," he called back over his shoulders. "Jusqu' а plus tard."

Thank ye, much obliged... need to keep some hold over that wench!

He beamed at her response... his two greatest loves coming together. Human nature, how one loves to share the things they treasure with the people they value. He lifted her chin gently, propped upon the backs of his fingers. "Merci Chere, perhaps ye shall, when the time is right. Tis home to me and mine, remember, there I can always be with ye...always. And someday I hope ye can find the peace that the 'Angel provides me and then I will show ye the world. Till then, ye best be lookin for a house here that we can call home as well."

"Very well Chere," he said. He rose to his feet, then leaned in to kiss her good bye. "I shall make the arrangements and come collect ye later. Mayhaps afters, I shall show ye the Archangel from the docks, if ye like."