Capt. Sterling

"Oui," Sterling answered, already gritting his teeth at the mere idea. Aurore leaned forward, over him, one arm wrapped protectively about him. He would have taken her hand in his but he feared hurting her by crushing her fingers. He bit his lower lip as the carriage lurched forward, but he could not hide the groan that escaped him. "Talk to me Chere. Tell me of something ye desire," he whispered.

"Tis just as well," Sterling said, his voice heavy. "I think I can bare not much more of this journey. I know not whether to make hast and endure the worst but arrive all the sooner, or slow our pace a bit and gain a breather." He no longer even bothered to right himself, but continued to lay his head in Aurore's keeping. "Is the road conducive to a faster pace... the going seems sluggish at best?"

No, just a flash in the pan....

Sterling thought a moment about Sabastian's offer than sat up slowly to face him. "No, no thank ye, I know myself well enough to know that if I stop now I will not wish to carry on until morning. Mr. March was quite adament that this Striker had to meet with me before dawn. I am hoping that if he knows I am, at least, returned back into the Port, he will grant me time to recoup there and mayhaps, meet with me in the later morning instead." Sterling paused then chuckled to himself. "Or else Striker's extreme need to meet in such haste may be the death of me." Brother laughed in accord but younger sibling's eyes widened so that Sterling quickly placed his good arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. "My apologies Chere. A jest in poor taste and uttered with little thought for your feelings." And yet as he held her close, he realized he was leaning heavily upon her for support. "We'd best move on," he said bringing the back of left hand gingerly upward to blot the moisture upon his upper lip. "Be so kind, Sir, to let me know when best to mount the other horse," he asked Sabastian. "And perhaps ye or Mr. Delaney might have a flask with something strong in it?"

theme

Pierre and Jean Baptiste Le Moyne have anything to do with it... as they were part of the original expedition in the Lousianna territory??

Shortly into their trip, Sterling moved from his perch to rest himself next to Aurore in the coach. Under ordinary circumstances he would have, with her consent, spent the time with some sexual pleasure, but now he found himself, jaw clenched against the pain that coarsed through his form as the carriage swayed and bounced in bone jarring fashion along the paths that hardly passed for proper roads. As he placed his head in her lap, he found he was sweating and wishing there was something he could take to ease his discomfort. He was grateful as she stroked his hair and sat quietly, he could not bare it if she had scolded him with "I told you this was not a wise thing to do." And yet he knew she was concerned. "Not much longer Chere," he whispered. Turning his head, he kissed her hand and mused about the day when his wounds would be well enough for him to join with her properly. The smile that spread across his face allowed her a moment to relax.

It had taken longer than he had wished before he and Aurore entered the ready carriage. She sat, quietly, wrapped in a light cloak whose hood gently framed her face. Sterling could not help but stare as he took his place, at least for the commencement of the journey, opposite her. As he adjusted the tails of the damaged coat he wore, she leaned forward and trapped his hand upon his knee with her own. He felt her fingers tighten about his. "What is it Chere?" he asked but she did not need to voice her concernes. "I needs must do this. I shall manage, ye shall see." "But why must you ride with Sabastian as we come into the Port? Why not stay here... with me?" Aurore whispered. Sterling switched the position of their hands, his fingers now fixed reassuringly about hers. "I have enough reason to be concerned that someone may be watching for us. Mr. March did take this Captain Strikers' warning to heart. I, therefore, should as well until we can prove otherwise. If I remain here, buried within this carriage, and prying eyes search us out, they may think me wounded prey... hurt more seriously than I am and thus an easy target." "But you are..." Aurore protested. He shook his head slightly. "I shall mend... in time, with yours and the Doctor's care. A few moments in the saddle as we enter the busier part of the town, will send the message that I am not wounded prey, but wounded predator, a much more dangerous creature, and not to be taken lightly."

There are instructions in Chapter 15, Latitude Hooks and Azimuth Rings...if that's the book Blackjohn is referring to... Looks pretty simple, need directions... I could snail mail you a set Jim, since Blackjohn seems pretty busy...?

"Thank ye, Monseuir.. Sabastian..." Sterling replied, then added slightly under his breath. "Let us pray that it is less chaotic than the last time."

Let's see, is Réné Duguay-Trouin the chap that was presented to Louis?

"Wait, Monseuir Devareaux, if ye please," Sterling called after him. He waited a moment until Sabastian peeked back inside the room. "I would ask ye also for an armed rider and spare horse as well, tacked and ready to ride. All shall be returned in good condition upon the morning," Sterling said.

I was going through some of KISH's old event movies and discovered Clint as a 'hollywood pyrate'! Captain, if you can find the 'collection of Kish' that I sent to you several years back (did you ever get it back from Jackie?) There is a student film feature about 3 mins long with him and his first wife, Rachelle doing a fencing scene. Do you know of it? Yes I've seen that one...

Sterling caught at Aurore's hand. "What is it Chere? Who is Andre`?" he asked.

That is soooo Clint!

Sterling tarried in her kiss. Who ever it was could surely wait. The knock sounded upon the door yet again and he snatched one more token from Aurore's lips before he pulled back. "Aye? Enter," he said, the disappointment of such a sudden thrust back into life, all too apparent in his tone.

Well then we shall just say, Dear Empress, that you are the pretty one, although I guess after MDRF, Mr. BALLS might disagree...

Shhhh don't tell Bob that....

Sterling could have easily remained cloistered away in Aurore's bedroom. He had never been so happy, but reality has its way of interferring in a person's happiness and soon it was time to return to the matters that had come to his attention with the arrival of Mr. Merriweather the elder. "Ye best put yer traveling clothes on Lady, and perhaps pack a small trunk for the next few days," he said. "And I am afraid I shall be needing yer help with mine own. Could ye also ask yer brother for an armed escort, one should do us well enough, no need to draw any extra attention to ourselves and a spare, fully tacked horse as well?"

Ack! No, you have to bring them both back... I need Rats... !!! Hmmm wonder how well they would ship back to the states??

Empress, dear, such a low opinion of one's self...

I could go on and on... we always seem to end up in the right place at the right time, in the strangest clothes...

Oh man, just looked at the link!!! How many suitcases are you allowed Kass??? You should put your riding habit in the fashion show...

Airports are no fun... done that with Wild West... running late from an event in WI and needing to fly back to NY. Truly nothing great about having to strip down to shirt and trousers, because yer braces are setting off the machine and then because of the shoe bomber, having to strip off spats and high button boots... and then put everything back on with a button hook in order to board the plane.... and then waistcoat, frock coat, pocketwatches... **sigh** And I've dropped folks off at my new airport in pyrate gear... if I get too close to the metal detectors all the workers get really nervous... I just roll my eyes... like I'm going to hijack a plane with my small sword...

Jeeze where haven't I been in kit?? I've even been invited to the Ladies' Tea Social at our church cause the women wanted to meet the Captain. But I think the funniest time was back when we did a dragoon unit, the 17th Light Horse Dragoons from the Am. Rev. War. We had just finished up a big battle at Fort Tigondaroga (sp) and needless to say, with horses and wearing a kit that boasts white small clothes and white doeskin breeches, we were filthy even before we got caught in the rain... Any way, me, my younger brother and my cousin Linda, pretty much changed out the important parts of our kit for mundane clothes... I ended up with leather breeches, now unbuckled and unbuttoned at the knees, 18th century shirt, dirty white linen waistcoat, stockings fallen down to my ankles and sneakers... over which I had a beat up old rain jacket. My brother was pretty much dressed the same but put on a sweater and Linda, now just in chemise, denim jacket and petticote with her hair pulled back in a scrunchy thing. We quickly packed up the kit, loaded the horses and decided to stop at the local supermarket for snacks on the trip back to Long Island. We only had a few bucks between us and as we were marching up and down the isles we were arguing about what we could actually afford so we better make it something we all liked... we made our purchase and as we stood just inside the door this old lady comes over, hands us a wad of cash and says "you poor kids, hope this helps" gets in her car and leaves...It took the three of us a minute to realize just how "bad" we looked....