Hazzards, M.

"Son of a bitch!" Pinon exclaimed then reentered his room, slamming the door behind him. "Bloody hell," Reiley remarked and ducked back in his own room. Sterling was still asleep, finally worn out from the past day's discomforts. Reiley placed the basket Hazzards had brought on the night table beside the captain's bed then grabbed his coat and exited back out into the hall locking the door behind him. "Care to join me in a more substantial breakfast?" the doctor asked. "I believe the captain will not be needing our company for at least a hour or so." "Breakfast it is then," the second officer agreed and followed the doctor downstairs to the tavern.

Early the following morning Hazzards arrived instead with breakfast basket in tow. A gentle rap was given to the chamber door and he stood and waited until a red eyed Reiley poked his face through the crack made when it was finally set ajar. The doctor blinked when he saw the second lieutenant. “Rough nigh?” Hazzards asked, knowing all too well the answer. Reiley pulled open the door the rest of the way then slipped out into the hall, closing it behind him. “He’s just gone off to sleep again about twenty minutes ago. He’s had a bad night of it,” Reiley indicated. He yawned and gave the growth on his chin a once over with his fingernails. “A right pain in the arse he can be.” “Aye that’s the captain when it comes to himself and what’s his,” Hazzards agreed. “How bad?” “Well tell me, how badly has he been in the past with what ever this is that ails him?” the doctor asked. He looked at Hazzards then to the basket still hooked to the other man’s arm. Hazzards held his arm forward and the doctor began rummaging beneath the basket’s linen cover. “Thought we’d lost him a number of times in the past, but some how he always pulls through it until it fancies taking a hold of him again. Wager I would, that Mr. March has done told ye already that the big wigs in London have no real idea what is wrong with him. I think he’s tired of being poked and prodded, handled and plied with every nasty concoction they can dream up. Does well enough, he does, at sea, if things be well for us, but as soon as he sets foot upon land, the trouble always seems to start and then so does it.” “Too much drink?” Reiley asked, pulling one of Skittles’ almond cakes from the basket. “Couldn’t say,” Hazzards answered. “Seems he and Mr. March have a good drinking bout or two, any ways often enough, whilst we’re working. On land though seems the captain drinks for different reasons. I know he’ll drink to ease the headaches and when the other pain cuts at him. Told me once he thought he knew what twere like for a deer to be butchered because of it. He be not too fond of the laudanum as a means of helping him through the rougher parts… or the purges… they had him vomiting up blood the last time, they did.” Reiley sighed. “Did that on his own last night. Couldn’t talk after a while.” The second officer nodded. “He’s been like that afore as well. Between that and the cough, when it gets its worst, we feared it was the consumption at first. Could barely talk for nigh on a fortnight once, and his voice always drops a bit more each time he gets passed it. I don’t know what to be telling ye doctor, but go easy on him. It laid him low once for five months. It were a native woman in the colonies, between her herbs and being able to get him fresh venison, with Skittles’ simple cooking, seemed to do him a world of good. Sometimes I reckon the man just needs to give himself a rest, but,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Business has been poor as of late and I know that is gnawing at him. You’ve seen him since he landed here, from one minute to the next he’s gotten himself into nothing but trouble, and that McKinney woman, God bless her, always manages to push him in the wrong direction. Maybe now that he’s married again… Tess was good for him she were.” “I wish I could get him to go home instead of staying in this noisy place,” Reiley said around a mouthful of cake. To emphasize his comment, he slammed his fist hard against the wall to the next room. “I am certain that Aurore and her people would see that he at least gets the rest he needs.” Hazzards disagreed. “Ye go home and tell yer new bride that yer dying, doctor. No easy task I would wager. No more than keeping the rest of the crew in the dark. He be better off here.” The two men looked down the hall as the door to the adjoining room opened and the tall dark haired stranger that had helped March the day before, peered out. He looked toward the doctor and the lieutenant. Reiley’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Oh sorry mate! Didn’t wake you did I?” the doctor asked innocently.

“Well Captain MacCraige, honored to make yer acquaintance. Matthew Hazzards I am called, second officer here. As to our Master, there be Mr. Straw but if tis business ye wish to discuss, it would be with our commander. Come aboard Sir, and I shall make yer presence known to Captain Sterling,” the second lieutenant replied. The Bosun’s pipe sounded the Still, calling all hands to attention to show respect to the boarding captain of the 'Mist Reiver'. Hazzards turned quickly to the elder Mr. Merriweather. "I believe Mr. March be with the captain at the moment. Let them know we have company."

Hail was noted as young Mr. Merriweather nodded to the indivdual below on the docks. He hurried off to find the second officer. "Beggin yer pardon Mr. Hazzards, there be a gentleman on the wharf that wishes a word," the young boy reported. Hazzards nodded his thanks and made his way over to the railing close to the entryway. "Ahoy and good evening," he shouted. "Now that ye have my attention, how may the Archangel be of service to ye?"

Well always remember Kass's favorite chant... don't make the common rare or the rare common! Hector

"Well then," says I. "There be a guard I need to be given the run around for a bit longer," I can not help but grin. "Then to check on the Captain. Take ye to breakfast I would, but I cannot say how long the law will keep me about. And then I must see to Mistress McKinney's letter...Um..A number of the crews' officers have taken rooms down by the docks. The ship be in for a refit in the yards. We be hoping she'll be ready to shove off with Sir Henry. Master March, he be our first officer, has a interview with old Morgan some time today, in the Captain's stead. If ye make yerself known at the Nag's Head, they should be able to be findin ye a room with some of the others." I move past him, hoping the guard is not wondering where I've gotten myself off to. "Thanks again," says I then turn to face Reiley again. "If ye can, see to puttin Dr. Easterly's things back at his place. We shall see if we can't be gettin ye your own kit durin the week ahead."

What a day I’ve had, sighs I as I make my way back to the inn once more. What a band of rogues to set upon this fellow Reiley. Surely, thinks I, there be a story to tell behind this all… unless they actually be only after Dr. Easterly. For a moment I pause to wonder what has become of the real Easterly, but there is not time to think as I walk with the guard. Thanks be for the night watchman just making his rounds as Reiley took off, hopefully to keep his end of the bargain. I do not know how well I may have faired if the alarm had not been sounded and a few good men had not come to my defense. Still the scuffle continued for more than any man would care for, but safe enough I’ve come from it. I’ve told my story to the guard as some others march the rogues off to goal for the night. But he now wants to talk to the fellow they claim they were really looking for says the guard. Know him well, for I came to his aide before says they. So now one man comes with me to confront the man I’ve seen slip them earlier. As we near the Inn, I see Reiley passing through the front door, still carrying the gear he… I pause in me thinking and correct myself… we stole only a few hours before. I catch his eye and he slows his pace. For a moment he looks about himself. Ready to turn and flee, wonders I? “Is this the man the ruffs were referring to?” the guard asks of me as we near Reiley. Looks at the man in question, does I. “How be my Captain ?” asks I. Reiley looks me in the eye. “I’ve done my best. All that is left be in God’s hands now, according to Mr. Symms.” The guard repeats his question. “Is this the man?” asks he. I look Reiley back square in the eye, then turn to the guard. “No, this be a Doctor Jefferson Reiley. I believe he is a mate of Dr. Easterly’s. Perhaps the man ye be looking for is in the pub. Shall I come and look around with ye?” asks I. The guard nods his head but as I turn to follow him I stop close to Reiley and allow the guard to walk on ahead. “Ifin ye want there still be that opening for a surgeon on the Archangel, I will put in a good word with the captain for you. What say you Doctor?”

dead frogs!! (always in my pool's skimmers... )

Pizza

“Believe me,” says I. “I will not let ye out of my sight and if you try anything amiss, your brief but honest turn of getting that letter back to its rightful owner will suddenly slip my mind.” I fall into step behind this so called doctor, my pistol still at the ready in case he bolts once we make the street. With night coming fast upon us, it would be too easy for him to get himself lost in Port Royal. Keep on his heels, thinks I. Close indeed. I can hear Symms coming down the steps behind us doing as he’s been told and I suddenly remember Mistress McKinney’s letter in my pocket. I can see her, as we pass to the door. Angry as a hornet is she, being helped by one of the tavern whores to clean herself up. Surely Symms has outdone himself this time, thinks I with a laugh. Though if the captain finds out there will be hell to pay. “I’ve something of yours Mistress,” calls I to the unfortunate girl. “If all goes well with the doctor here, I will call upon you and see it safely restored to you.” I cannot wait for her reply, already Symms has made his way into the kitchen and Reiley’s hand is upon the door handle…..

I find I laughed heartedly at his offer as we began our way to the pub. “Afraid mate that I may slip ye the King’s shilling?” laughed I. “Well then I shall graciously accept ye kindness but let ye know that my captain would just as soon keel haul one of his officers than allow them to stoop to such a ruse. Three years a slave to the Turks was the captain which has been a boon to us that serve with him on the Archangel. Too much respect he has for a man’s freedom to force anyone to join his crew. And” said I. “And though, he be not a lax man, he treats us well indeed compared to some of the others I’ve had the misfortune to serve under.” I fixed a hard stare upon the man that had now sat across from me for the past hour in the very tavern where my captain lays ill upstairs. “Aye, an honest privateer Sterling be, and although he strives to earn an honest day’s wage, any man, including him, may slip up a bit to take care of them he relies on and who relies on him. By the by, mate,” begins I. I watch for a sign, anything from a nervous flare of this scoundrel’s nostrils to the very break out of a cold sweat upon his upper lip. “We have need of a new surgeon on board. Captain Sterling struggles at times with the Ague, another thing thrust upon him by the filthy Turks. Where is it ye studied yer doctoring then?”

"Belay that mate!" I says, my own sword now but inches from the last ruffian's mid back. I watch as the bastard thinks twice but then slowly moves his free hand outward as he cautiously lowers his piece to the ground. "And who is it that says all thy lot are feeble minded?" asks I. I look to the man who they have chosen as their intended. "Matters have I to discuss with the ... " I cough and clear my throat "Gentleman thee have assaulted... so ifin thee knows what is good for thee, thee would best be off," says I. I watch as the last man dips to retrieve something from one of his fallen commrades. "Be off with thee, says I. "No time have I to wait for thee to pocket from thy companions!" And with a prod from the point of my blade, the last jackanapes makes his way quickly past me and back out into the dimming light. "You!" Shouts I, looking now upon the man I have been following. He has cleaned himself up, changed his clothing and looks far more my better than he did hours ago. "I be supposing you could do with a drink about now?"

I, being Matthew Hazzards, second officer of the crew of the Archangel, spent most of my day milling about the streets of Port Royal. At one point I had given chase after a man that fit what I remembered of the thief who had made off with Lilly McKinney’s letter, only to lose him in the more seedier back streets of Jamaica. At noon I stopped long enough to give myself a breather and a bit of lunch and some grog and then be about my task again. There was not much else for me to do to pass my time while the Archangel was in the hands of the shipyards any way. As the sun began to set for the day, I decided it was time to investigate further, but now in the local pubs. So I made my way back feeling as if I should give up the hunt and drown my defeat with some of the town’s best rum, when I noticed a man leaving one of the better buildings ahead of me. “Surely,” thinks I aloud and quickly fall into step at a safe distance behind the man who had just left Dr. Easterly’ place of practice.