Capt. Sterling

"Ye hear that Symms! I'll be needing my boots and spurs ...again."

Yes? And??!?

"Hurry Symms, I need to change," Sterling said moving quickly from the bed. "Are ye certain she is here?" he asked the boy yet again, all sense of protocol vanished. "The black coat," the captain said. "Again?" Symms asked. "Aye I need to repay my respects to the very people who may save my ship now that Cate has..." he faltered in his words, an ache taking tight hold of his insides at the thought of how he had failed the Empress constantly in the past. "Tis not her fault," he said more to himself than the others. He took up the medallion and placed in his waistcoat pocket. "No sir!" the boy spoke. Sterling halted and glanced down at the young man. "Ye do not understand the value of that," Jason continued, pointing to the pocket that now housed the emblem. "Tis from her, herself. Ye must keep it safe sir." Sterling studied the boy's expression for a moment, then nodded his head. Quickly undoing his cravat, he removed it and his shirt, then placed the medallion about his neck. "A new shirt will do as well Mr. Symms and hurry. Can ye take me to her?" the captain asked as the boy shifted from foot to foot.

Cheeky who else? And a gold Guniea to the one who can keep her tied up for more than ten minutes!!!!!!!!!!!!

What's the 17th century equivalent of duct tape? Join my crewe... you can be the Keeper of the Actress!!!

"She's here?" Sterling said sitting up suddenly. "And a good lad thou are too," Sterling said, brightening a bit at the sound of Aurore's name. He took the letter, hesitating a moment, fearing all too much that it would be naught but further bad news. "Tis all well with thy mistress?" he asked, unbreaking the seal and unfolding the paper. He did not wait for the boy's response, but quickly retreived the lense and began to read.

Gas prices are dropping?!?!? WHERE???

Sterling walked back to The Three Crownes thoroughly defeated. Ioan, for some strange reason, remaining close at hand despite the quiet between the two. Outside the inn, Sterling once again turned to the younger man. “Thank ye. I am indebted to ye. There is not much that I have upstairs but there is a bottle of Madeira, tis yers if ye be willing to accept it?” he asked. Ioan only nodded and followed the captain inside and up the stairs to a room at the back of the inn. As the two approached Jones climbed to his feet from his chair and nodded a greeting to his captain. “Quiet now is she?” Sterling asked. “Fallen asleep has she?” Jones immediately knew something was wrong, he did not know the man that now spoke to him at the far end of the hall. “She still has her caller sir,” Jones answered. “Beggin yer pardon sir, but are ye…” he stopped as Sterling looked away. “Thank ye Mr. Jones,” Sterling said. He unlatched the door to the room and opened it, Ioan hovering in the frame as Sterling entered the room. He stood and waited a moment looking surprised to see Symms and some poor child captive. “Ahem…” the captain said, clearing his throat. Symms paused in mid-sentence, took a deep breath, Jason thought the old man had not done so in hours, then turned to see who was interrupting his sermon. “AH Captain Sterling sir, I be just telling this here whelp…”Symms began. “Are ye all right sir?” Sterling waved away the old man‘s concerned question and looked at the boy still seated in the chair by the fireplace. “Ah yes, I can see that ye have. He has not kept thee long has he lad?” Sterling asked his voice a whisper. It was obvious the boy was not one to lie by his remaining silent to the captain’s question. “The lad has brought ye a letter he has,” Symms explained. “Would not trust it to my keeping this time, he would not.” “Of course. Thank ye Mr. Symms…Oh and Symms see to the gentleman in the doorway. Give him a bottle of the Madeira… the better Malmsy if ye please. Come along lad, what have ye for me?” Sterling asked collapsing on the bed with a heavy sigh.

Well done Mad Jack!! Hope the lovely missus is feeling better!

Sterling read the letter through, in disbelief he re-read it, not once but thrice. For a moment his hands shook and he turned away from the young man next to him. “I am lost,” he whispered. “She thinks I have betrayed her and now there is not time for yet another letter to pass between us. My God, even then she may not still believe me. Oh God, Cate how could you ever think I would do such a thing to you, of all people?” It was several long, agonizing minutes before the captain was able to turn back to Ioan, his expression such as Ioan had never witnessed before. Were there even tears in the man’s eyes? Sterling could barely breathe. He watched as the captain awkwardly tucked the epistle into coat pocket. In an instant the man was stone cold sober, painfully so. “Sir,” Sterling whispered. “I can give thee nothing but I would be ever grateful, if you would see me back to The Three Crownes.”

Calling cards

Sterling started off, surprised to see Ioan fall into step along side him. “I said I am not wanting yer assistance,” Sterling said and then stopped a moment. “All right then, mayhaps I do. Where does the post master abide?” he asked. Ioan almost laughed. “Right there is the very place he lives and works,” Ioan replied pointing at a place two buildings down from the very spot they stood. “Well I’ll be,” Sterling said, looking to where the other man indicated. “I fear they won’t be open for business yet,” Ioan explained. “We shall see about that,” Sterling said more to himself than to his company. “Come along then, perhaps you may be of assistance after all.” Sterling made his way quickly to the door Ioan had pointed out and pounded his fist upon it. “Hello! Open up I say!” He continued to bang upon the wooden barrier until he heard a window above him open. He took a step back and looked upward. First a lit candle was thrust through the open portal and then a night capped head soon followed. “What …what is it? Who’s there?” a man called down. “John Sterling, Captain of the Archangel. I need to see to the latest post. I am wanting a letter from England!” “Aye, the post did come in…late last night with The Falcon. But, you foolish dolt, come back when I’m open. Tis too early, the sun’s not yet up! Drunken lout!” “Nay sir, the sun is well on its way about its business and so must you be as well. You may have something that belongs to me and I need it now!” Sterling insisted. “Nay sir, then you will have to wait…as like the others!” Sterling watched as head and candle pulled back inside. “Then sir, I shall kick yer door in and help myself,” Sterling shouted. Ioan still lingering close by felt his own stomach turn a bit as the captain immediately set foot to the door. The wood groaned inward with the blow but did not open instantly. This time Sterling threw his shoulder to it and a creak was heard as the door began to splinter. Once again the head popped outward and this time it’s owner glared downward. “What the hell do you think you are about ?” “Fetching my letter!” Sterling growled as he threw himself against the door once more. This time the crack of wood was loud, audible to all in attendance on the scene. “Damn yer eyes!” the head shouted and once again withdrew, the window crashing down as Sterling once more threw himself into action. This time the strain was too much and the door flew open, slamming with a thud against the wall behind it, splinters of wood scattering through the air as it gave in to the pressure it could not longer resist. Ioan watched, not sure whether to be impressed or to turn and make himself scarce before the watch chanced to appear at the end of the street. Sterling did not hesitate but welcomed himself inside the building as the head, now complete in form appeared at the base of the stairs, pistol in hand. “Take care you scoundrel, or I will fire upon you!” the post master threatened. “Not if I shoot ye first,” Sterling said. “I am looking for a letter. Tis from London town, from the Empress of the Seven Seas. Find it quickly and then you can return to the warmth of yer bed.” “More like have you arrested I shall,” the man replied. “Not if you know what is good for ye,” Sterling said. “You are looking for something addressed to Sir John Sterling… now be about finding it! I do not wish to dally any longer.” “Sir?” the post master said. This time his tone a bit more willing. “Ye heard me,” Sterling said moving toward a counter. “Aye then, sir… Sir?” “John Sterling.” It took only a moment longer before the post master lowered his weapon and moved, candle in hand to claim a large leather bag. This was quickly emptied upon the counter and both men set to rummaging amongst the letters and small packages littered there. “Ah!” the post master announced the first to set eyes and hand upon the letter in question. Sterling quickly snatched the item from him. “Oi there be postage due on that!” “You will get it…in time,” Sterling grinned as he turned back toward the door. “Now back to yer bed with ye!” He made his way outside, Ioan coming along side him once again. Breaking the seal he held the letter out, moved about the street for better light, than fished, somewhat annoyed at the need to do so, and pulled a quizzing lense from beneath his waistcoat front. “Ah my dear Habibi…” Sterling muttered to himself as he passed the lense quickly over the letter. “I knew I could…depend….” Ioan watched as the man’s face began to change. The smile slowly changing to one of confusion and then abject horror. “No, Cate… no…tis not what ye ….” Before his very eyes Ioan watched as the proud, albeit rather drunk captain slowly began to crumble before him.

Awoken from his brief nap, the old steward jumped from the chair he had taken residence in, paused midway across the floor to stretch, then proceeded to open the door. "OH bloody 'ell, NOT YOU AGAIN!!" Symms snapped when he saw the same young messenger once more. The old man impatiently held out his hand, already expecting another note, although hoping this time it would be less cryptic. "Please I am to give these things to Captain Sterling myself," the young lad said his hold tightening over the items he had been charged to deliver. "Ye mean he not be off lollygagging with yer lot this time?" Symms asked. The old man heaved a sigh. "Where the bloody hell he's gotten himself off to this time, I be not knowing. All right then young squire," Symms continued. "To him I shall give it, when and if he shows up. I be his steward. Ye can trust me with the packet," Symms said. The boy shook his head. "My orders are to give them into his hands only." "Well then tis a wait ye have fer yerself. Gone off again he has... gray hair upon gray hair he's givin me. And fer all my service. Thoughtless young pup... never grow up he will! I warrant ye are about the same as he, aren't ye lad? Not a thought fer yer elders, them that takes care of ye. Well let me tell ye a thing or two...." the steward began. Then taking a hold of Jason's coat sleeve, Symms dragged the young boy into the room, sat him down in the chair he had just inhabited and began his first long lecture of the day.

Major and minor

Rope! And LOTS of it... and a gag...yeah a good one... since you've already managed to learn how to talk around the button on your vizard....

false

play

post

At the sensation of touch, Sterling's first instinct, at such an hour was to draw, but as his hand flew to the hilt of his sword, he could only sense the need to be wise, not to defend himself. He pulled back from the touch and turned to look upon the young man that had approached him. "Assistance?" Sterling said, already sobbering from his start. He briefly glanced over the young man's bearing, his hands well in view. He fixed his gaze on the young's man's eyes then. He could hear no one behind him at the moment, and relaxed his grip on his sword but his hand strayed, instead, to the pistol in his pocket. "I think, lad, ye have already done me a service by bringing my mind back to where it needs be. I would be glad to take ye up on yer offer but I have not one penny to give ye for yer efforts, and besides, I know my way around the streets only all too well, if ye understand my meaning. Still I thank ye for your...ahem..concern. If ye would like I could be offering ye a drink for yer thoughtfulness. If ye go back inside and tell Mr. Simpson of the Archangel, he will put ye up a tankard of yer favorite." Sterling then dipped his head slightly to the young man. "Again I thank ye. Mayhaps another time things will prove a bit more.... profitable."

Basketball

Knowing the refined port would only add insult to injury regarding his already throbbing head, Sterling downed his first pint of rum, then, fishing in his waistband pocket, handed over two coins to cover several more tankards. With refill in hand he turned from the bar and looked over the crowd of miscreants that spread forth like a sea of vermin before and around him. Since he had actually been born to such a class of people, the type had never made him uncomfortable, cautious perhaps, but never uneasy. Nevertheless, he seemed to make them so. He saw his crew members at a far table raise their drinks to him and he immediately acquired another coin to have a round sent over to them. He knew it unwise to join them… he did not wish to impose and ruin their free time by having them feel the need to pay him any extra attention or unearned respect. With a nod, he saluted them in kind then began to contemplate the liquid in the mug he held. In time, he was approached by two lasses, plying their trade. The first was quite easy to dismiss, the second… He glanced her over thoughtfully. Already he had lost count of which tankard he was holding, his mind growing more numb with each sip, his headache almost forgotten. She moved closer to him, her hands moving over the front of his waistcoat. “Sorry Lass,” Sterling chuckled to himself. “But my wallet has already been lifted by one of yer “sisters” earlier this evening. If ye were able to reach the rest of my coin without notice, I’d have to say ye would be entitled to it, but I fear I have not enough to cover yer price.” “I don’t mind sir,” the girl said coyly. “I think a drink would do me well enough. Shall I give ye a toss out back?” He looked down at her, her long reddish brown hair, rekindling the memories of the past few days. In the dim light this girl could pass for… He straightened, his motion pushing the girl slightly away from him. “Nay, lass, I think not. There be someone else I would rather….” he fell silent and turned back to the bar, placing the half finished tankard down on the bar top. When he turned back around she was still there. “Thank ye kindly but mayhaps another time,” Sterling said. He nodded once more to the members of his crew that still remained in the tavern, gave the girl a wink and bow, and finally made his way back out to the street. The dawn was slowly about to break on another day at Port Royal as Sterling staggered his first few steps., hoping he was heading in the right direction.

heart burn

http://www.tuckahoetradingco.com/product%2...-thumbnails.htm can't get more period correct than the above link... and don't forget some kind of haversack then to cart it around with you...

safe trip and enjoy your visit

Sterling made his way down the stairs and quickly out the front door. He breathed a bit easier once outside and began making his way down the street. The night in Jamaica was nearly as warm as the day, the slight difference in temperature hardly noticable, the only saving grace, an occasional breeze of sea air. For a short span of time he wondered about the young woman who had come to call upon Lilly. From her choice of clothing he assumed that perchance she was another actress intent on meeting someone of fame from the London stage. Obviously she had made her way in a hurry to see the famous actress. Well, he thought, if she kept Lilly quiet, calm and entertained, then all the better. He continued on his walk, the noise of a tavern further on ahead becoming louder with each forward step. He decided another drink was necessary, his head still pounding ... something was needed to dull the pain further until he either could forget it or pass out and not deal with it until the morning. As he closed on the establishment, now crowded with patrons that actually spilled out into the street, some older woman crashed into him. He could only laugh to himself as she apologized profusely for her carelessness. He knew she had lifted his wallet when she had collided with him, empty and worn, the leather itself not worth the pickpocket's effort. Well the joke was on her, Sterling thought as he entered the tavern, pushing his way to the bar.