Andrew March

Now the real question becomes, is a true master ever truly happy with his own performance or does he find nothing but flaws to be corrected?

But Andrew March was not one to go peacefully. "Part ways?" the first officer asked. "Surely yer coming back to the ship fer the night?" Sterling's eyes narrowed a pace. "I have no intentions of doing as ye ask. I wish to go home and spend some time with my wife." Now was March's turn for eyes to narrow as a frown was quickly spreading over the concern that marked his face. "Home?! Not that I be against ye spending time with Mistress Sterling, but do ye not think it wiser ye stay onboard, where the likes of me and Mr. Symms can keep an eye on ye? Not to mention we have a doctor close at hand, if needed." Sterling rested one hand upon his friend's shoulder. "I am all right ... for now. And a comfortable bed well do me far better than that blasted old crib of mine. If space were not so lacking as is, a decent bunk would suit me fine in my quarters but such is not the case. No, Andrew, tis home I should like to go for this night at least. We shall sail soon enough and what little time I may have, I would like to spend it with my wife." "Well then, since yer mind is set, I shall ride a pace with ye then," March said. "As ye like. Your company shall not go unappreciated," Sterling said, he turned and opened the door to the stables' office and waved his first officer ahead of him. "Ye will tell her before we sail with Mistress McKinney?" March asked once inside. Sterling thought a moment after asking for the owner, the Chestnut and one additional mount for March. "If I were to insist upon an anullment, then perhaps it would not be wrong to tell her. But since ye have convinced me to continue with my marriage, no, I will not tell her. Why have her worry about something none of us can do anything about?" March said nothing, nor was there any physical sign of agreement, and yet understanding was made between the two. He walked away, deep in thought, as owner made his apperance and Sterling began to haggle over the purchase price of the Chestnut.

Cursing a blue streak now, but entirely under his breath, Andrew March hurried down to the pier and shouted to Sterling to come up out of the harbor straight way. The captain only rolled his eyes but due to his first officer’s consternation, he did as was asked, pulling on the banyan March had grabbed from the quarterdeck railing as he made his descent to the earth. “Good heavens Andrew, ye worry entirely too much,” Sterling muttered. “Tis just a swim about. Tis not as if I have not indulged before in such a manner!” “Aye I’ll warrant that, but has always been in some area more private or just about the crew, not in the bloody public harbor of Port Royal.” “I’ve seen others in the harbor since our arrival,” Sterling insisted. “Aye, children and young lads and certainly not of yer position or condition. Hell John, come to yer senses, tis time ye start admitting to yerself and others that yer not well and ye need some time to get yerself back together. If ..” Sterling immediately straightened to his full height, bristling, fist raised in anger, but managed to place a check on himself. “Enough said Mr. March. Another word on the matter and I shall cut thy tongue out myself. Thou didst give me thy word.” “And ye gave me yers!” The two men stood and glared at each other, several minutes ticking past until Sterling sighed heavily and forced himself to settle down. “I am sorry Andrew,” he said. “As am I as well. This is not something anyone would wish for. John ye know that there is still…” Sterling shook his head. “No more for the present,” he interrupted. “I can think of far better things to set my mind upon.” He smiled at March. “Like a good meal…” “And a drink ?” the first officer added with a grin. “My tis grand how well we think alike. And alcohol has absolutely nothing to do with it,” Sterling said, with a snigger. “Well enough, I shall see to some dry clothing and have Mr. Symms escort Aurore home. I cannot abide having her about, knowing how uncomfortable she is. She flinches at every creak and groan the ‘Angel offers. Tis no place for her and I shall not have her come to worry, harm or illness due to my ship or me.” The two fell into step along side each other as they made their way back to the Archangel. “Then ye have not told her yet?” March asked, as they walked. Sterling shook his head. “No,” was all he answered.

His arm remained tight about her shoulders, other hand raised to take hers in it. He moved slowly until her step was able to match his own. His voice barely a whisper, he explained, stopping himself whenever he felt other ears were not distant enough. "Do not take to heart what he may say. He has gotten away from us, with no one to keep him on an even keel. Tis exhausted he is and when he gets like this old ghosts come back to haunt him." March allowed his words to take root in Aurore's thoughts before he continued. "He wishes to dissolve the marriage, but ye pay him no mind. He doesn't mean what he says... not now, not until he's had time to recover himself." He stopped, arm withdrawing as hand was raised and knuckles brought to bear upon cabin door.

pratt

As gap was vanquished, fatherly arm was placed comfortingly about Aurore’s shoulders. March felt awkward at his gesture and yet proud of the girl as she made her way slowly unto the deck. Without so much as a by your leave, he was ready to usher her below, but first his head inclined closely to delicate ear. “Jean n'a pas raison,” March whispered before full carriage was rapidly regained. “Il a besoin de vous mais il ne le sait pas.”

"Mayhaps..." the word was soft and fleeting. Hand was withdrawn. "Busy he is and none of us would be too pleased to disturb him and ask him to leave his quarters."

He waited, his hand still empty, wanting only for hers to help her come across into her husband’s world. Eyes lowered momentarily, then focused on younger set, pleading her to step across the abyss that fell open before her. Quick but falsely steady glance was redirected to brother who stood sweating upon the pier before once again, as if nothing was off beam, steely eyes fixed on the timid, yet all too brave, creature that stood before him

Extended hand was withdrawn ever so slightly as eyes narrowed equally in kind only to return to normal with all due haste. Without skipping a futher beat, the officer gave a slight shake of his head. "Nay Mistress I cannot do that," March replied, his voice dipping low enough for only her to hear.

Hand still extended, yet no forward step taken to close the distance, March waited. "As ye like Mistress. Take ye to him myself, if ye wish." He remained fixed, still hoping tiny steps would falter before gaining footing upon deck.

"Good day to ye Mistress," March called. Cocked hat was removed as formal bow was given with utmost respect. He righted himself, settling his hat back at its jaunty angle then took a deep breath. With hesitation hand was extended. "Can I welcome ye aboard Lady?" he asked.

March straightened as fair prize was ushered forward. As Aurore neared he turned suddenly filled with life. "Alright ye rum gaggers, stand aside and belay them casks. The captain's wife is about to come aboard and I don't want no harm to be coming to her. Ye'll be standing clear and make haste in doing so!" For the briefest of moments, eyes turned to stare at the first officer, but just as quickly orders were mulled over and then acted upon. Work came to an abrupt halt as men made fast all manner of movement of block and tackle and contaminated water kegs. Once any chance for danger had been attended to, men scattered, parting like the Red Sea as March finally made his way to the gangplank and waited. He stared across as bride and brother made their slow advance, hoping all the while that the fear he knew she harbored deep within toward her husband’s livelihood, would overwhelm her just enough to keep her ashore. The last thing Andrew March wanted right now was for either to see Sterling in his current condition.

Still there was not a flicker of movement from the first officer. "Mistress Sterling is in good keeping here. Being the captain's wife, she is as much a part of this ship's company as he is."

March moved not a muscle. “Good then, ye do just that Mister Devareaux. Sorry I am if there be concern as to the captain’s welfare, but if Mistress Sterling wishes to see her husband, then rest easy, she will not be denied and taken to him she will be if she so wishes it.”

March , both hands pressed against the ship’s railing, as he leaned over it, fixed his gaze downward upon the man that dared not take a forward step. “Well then don’t. We wouldn’t want ye to go reckoning amiss now would we?” March said. “The captain is indisposed pure and simple, no need to go reading into it something that isn’t meant to be there.”

“Well enough. Thank God the storm was not too harsh. I must confess I have said my prayers and worried through many another far worse in my time,” March folded his arms, one hand coming to stroke the tips of his beard. “Audience says you? With the Captain? Afraid I am that Captain Sterling is indisposed at the moment.”

March made his way to the gangplank as the younger midshipman drew his attention to the latest arrival. "Ah, Mister Devareaux," the first officer said after recovering from a polite bow. "What could possibly bring ye so far from the comforts of home at such an early hour?"

March ignored the captain’s last statement and passed the lock of fine hair to its rightful owner. “Yours is almost as white in colour when we’ve been to sea all summer and the sun beats down on it,” March remarked. He quietly folded the letter, hoping Sterling would give it no further notice. He was about to place it in his pocket, in order to toss it away, when the captain looked up. “Thank ye Andrew, I shall take that. I think I would like to go over it once more,” Sterling said. “Aye John as ye like. I would pay it no heed if I were ye. I shall send word to Mistress McKinney that when we are ready to make sail to England, that we shall send someone to fetch her and her things,” March suggested. The first officer stood to his feet, and, somewhat reluctantly passed the letter along as well. “John have ye considered what yer new wife might think if ye were to bring yer old mistress back to England? Ye know Mistress Sterling will not travel with ye, odds are she will not so as much set foot even upon the Archangel’s decks again, but still, do ye truly think it wise traveling alone with a woman ye once loved?” March glanced quickly over his shoulder at Symms, as the old man’s “humph” sounded loudly in the background. “It no longer matters,” Sterling said as he carefully tucked the lock of hair inside Lilly’s note. “There is one other thing, now that ye mention it.” He looked up curiously as March looked away a moment, covering a frown that had clouded the first officer’s face. “I have need of Mr. Straw’s advice and possible services. There is something that I need canceled…. And I….” “Ye mean annulled do ye not?” March said moving closer to the bunk and looking down at the captain, his expression hard. “John, all ye need is some rest. Give yerself a chance to heal. Ye have been under a tremendous bit of pressure for the past year and things have not turned around as of yet, except for this new marriage. Ye cannot tell me that ye do not love this girl?!” “She does not love me, I am certain of it now. Tis as if I do not exist when others are about and they are about constantly. I am nothing but another wounded creature the young girl has taken the time to pity. Tis all, nothing more,” Sterling said, his voice lowering. “I think it is best that I no longer waste her time or mine own. She‘s shed enough tears, I should think.” “And she's shed those tears because she cannot abide yer company is what ye have in yer head is it?" March sighed, there was no point in arguing when the captain was in such a state and yet he could not help himself. "So ye’ll run off with that actress again, instead of trying to make yer marriage work,” March said. “Good God no!” Symms muttered as he moved closer to the others. March shot a warning glance back at the older man. “Stay out of this!” he snapped. He looked angrily back at Sterling “And be miserable when McKinney refuses yer next proposal. Ye really are not in yer right mind are ye?” “It will be different now… there is the child to consider.” “Ye think a mere child will make things different between ye and McKinney?” March asked. “For God’s sake John, trust me, ye do not want to be doing this thing. Give this new lass a chance. Ye can make yerself another babe on her and she will not only love the child but ye as well. How long do ye think the actress will pay ye heed once she sets foot back in England again?” “Tell Mr. Straw that I wish to speak with him…now!” Sterling said, burying his face in his hands to still the throbbing in his head. “Fine! As ye like, but I’m sending the doctor in to see ye first. He'll ship ye back to England by God, straight back to Bedlam… ye great bloody fool!” March shouted and stormed from the cabin.

ink blot

Andrew March made his way to Sterling’s cabin. He knocked first, shifted his weight from foot to foot, as he waited for Symms’ old face to peer through the slight crack he would allow when opening the cabin door. “The Captain wishes a word with me?” Mr. March asked, knowing all too well what he had been summoned for. Already he held the actress’s letter in hand, thumb placed over the seal, just waiting for the word to crush it open. “Aye Mr. March. Come along. He wishes fer the letter that woman left with you earlier today,” the steward replied in explanation. “Mayhaps tis the very one yer holding.” “Aye Mr. Symms, it tis,” March answered moving it out of reach of the old buzzard. He entered the cabin and made his way over to Sterling’s bunk as Symms closed and locked the door behind him. “Andrew,” Sterling said acknowledging his first officer. “Captain,” March began but Sterling waved his hand in dismissal. “No need for formalities. We three are very much alone here,” Sterling said. “Very well then,” March said pulling a chair along side the bed and taking his ease. “How are ye fairing John?” “I must confess tis very much tired that I still am,” Sterling answered. "And the pain?" Sterling eyes lowered briefly, as if he should feel guilty for what had happened. "Tis past... for now." March nodded in understanding, then quickly changed the subject. “Well then I shan’t be keeping ye. Here is the letter Mistress McKinney left for ye. She requested an answer. I told the boy we would have it sent a long when ye were ready. Want that I should read it to ye?” March said. “Aye ye would be doing me a great service at the moment,” the captain said. He closed his eyes, resting back as the first officer unsealed the letter and unfolded the paper. To My Earthly Angel, What sadness captures your heart when you cannot even reveal such a truth to your new wife? Upon your leaving yesterday morning, the look in your eye could only mean sadness, misfortune and heartbreak. What occurred between you and her can only be measured by the silence you have taken…and by the bottle, you now favor. Why do you banish me when I extend my hand in friendship? ‘Twas it not I who stood up in church and spoke for you and Aurore whilst Tess St. Claire tried to spoil the ceremony? I have heard it said that marriage without a contract looks so odd, that it appears more like the coupling of irrational than rational creatures. You know that I speak the truth. It is only my wish that you be happy…yet, I fear that the path you chose will not lead you two to happiness. She, though kind and tender to you, is not suitable for you. She is from another world and her family may never accept you for the kind and loving person that you are. It is said, that like blood, like good, and like age make the happiest marriage. We are of the same cloth, you and I. We have spent many an hour talking of our future together. Tis it not better to wed over here than over the moor? I am the fool, my Love. I come forth and say that I am sorry, twas my foolishness, pride and greed, which has gotten the best of me. It is only now that I understand that love should make marriage, not marriage love. Enclosed is my gift to you. It is our son’s lock of hair, which I wish you to keep safe. I know that you cannot wait to see him for yourself when we return to England. I pray that he shall know his father and that you will do right and just by him as well. Your Flower, Lilly "Damn the woman!" Symms said harshly as March finished his reading. "Still trying to stir up trouble for ye! Ye be married now, with enough on yer mind and body! She's done lost her chance. Did ye not offer her the world and she chucked it back at yer feet?" March grinned broadly at Symms's outburst, but when he turned to face his captain, he was not met with an equally amused expression. Instead Sterling gnawed slowly on his lower lip. March noticed the long fingers twisting the wedding band that once again encircled the captain's ring finger. March frowned now, almost as deeply as the old steward. "What is it John?" the first officer asked. "Perhaps Mistress McKinney is right," Sterling said, finally holding out his hand for the lock of his son's hair.

"Aye, yer letter I can take, but if ye insist on waiting, plan on doing so for quite awhile. The Captain is indisposed and has not the time to be catering to every one of Mistress McKinney's damn whims," the first officer grumbled as the young boy made his way back, this time at least without the heavy trunk in tow."So, if you wish to wait, I would highly recommend the tavern at the end of the wharf, I cannot be havin ye here under foot," March added tossing the boy a coin. "Have yerself a drink and a meal on Captain Sterling. Now be off with... belay that," March said, with a sudden change of mind. "Keep yer coin but go back and tell the ... lady... that she'll get her answer when the captain be good and ready to give it to her." The young boy's eyes widen slightly in alarm at the message he was to deliver. "Just duck, as yer speakin," March added with a grin. "Now go on with ye." He waited a moment, watching the young boy scamper across the gangplank and hurry his way back down the pier. He turned the note over in his hand. Yes he was curious to know what it contained, especially now that Sterling was in no condition to get himself into any of Lilly McKinney's troubles. March made his way to the captain's cabin. Surely he would need to do some convincing...

"Avast there, and where do ye think ye be going with that trunk?" March hollared as the young boy struggled up the gangplank. "I've orders to deliver it here. Tis the Archangel tis it not?" the young lad asked. With a groan he deposited the trunk on end on the very edge of the walkway. "Aye tis indeed. And this here trunk belongs to?" the first officer continued. "A Mistress McKinney," the boy answered. "Bloody hell, we not be sailing fer at least a week. We've only just begun seeing to fresh water. Back to the inn with ye and it. And tell her we cannot be havin her livin onboard for that amount of time. Tis not a pleasure yacht!"

“He said what?” March asked, completely taken aback. “He said he wanted to annul the marriage,” Rieley said with an exasperated sigh. “After all the trouble he went through to wed this girl? Granted he may have gotten ahead of himself this time but still. I was under the impression that he cared for her and she likewise,” March said. “Did he start babbling about this before or after the blood letting?” “During,” the doctor explained. “That and taking Mistress McKinney back to England.” “But we’re to sail… Oh bloody hell, never mind. I’ll speak with him when he’s able. McKinney ye say? Should have known she was mixed up in all this mess…Damn it but the man is completely lost on land after three days, regardless of his health,” March said, his expression once again under control and unchanging except for a slight glimmer of compassion in his eyes. “I’ll speak with Mr. Straw regarding dissolving the marriage. Mayhaps by the time the captain recovers himself, he’ll have forgotten all about it.”

“Well?” March asked waiting for Doctor Reiley’s response. “Give the Laudanum a few more minutes to work,” the doctor said. “Between the bleeding, the lack of sleep and the drug, he should be out for quite awhile once it hits him.” Andrew March nodded his head in silent understanding. “You do realize that I am not so certain that I agree with how you are handling the matter,” Reiley added. “Noted,” Mr. March said. He pulled the doctor to the side, waiting until a crew member passed. He continued on, his voice a low, dangerous growl in his chest. “I will not be havin the captain’s good name dragged down any worse than it already has been by them one would think he could trust … and all because of something that happened to him in the past that he cannot rid himself of. I will not have his flaws exposed about like some scandalous broadsheet. He has been through enough thanks to them that ought to have loved him.” March paused. Taking a breath, his tone soothed a bit. “The captain has been like this before and he has gotten through it. He will get through this as well, and you, Mr. Symms, and myself will do all that we can to help him get through it all the faster. Do ye still think my reasoning is amiss?” Reiley shook his head. “Good then we be having an understanding finally?” March asked. “Aye,” the doctor said. “Yes. I would like the chance for him to see a better doctor. I am still finding my way about all this again.” “Also noted," March said. "But he already knows about....," his voice fell to a quiet whisper. "As do I and Mr. Symms. And now yerself. Now, no more said. Ye will look in on him in a bit and then let me know if yer treatment has accomplished its goal,” the first officer instructed. “Other than the obvious, the wound?” Reiley looked at the other man. “The wound is healing nicely.” “Thank God,” March said. “Well be off with ye then and see to the captain.” Reiley hesitated a moment longer. “What now?” March asked. “There was one other thing he mentioned and seemed quite adamant about… whether he remembers or not later on…” “Get on with it!” March snapped. “He wished to speak to Mr. Straw… he said he had questions regarding the issuing of an annulment.”

“Give him something, anything… to make him sleep, Doctor,” March said as the captain was finally confined in his cabin. He had been dragged below, with great effort, after the scuffle turned into a bloody assault. Bosun de Dogge, pricked by the point of Sterling’s small sword, now sat quietly in sick bay as the old surgeon’s mate looked after his wounded arm. A tot of rum was nursed to ease his wounded pride as well as Andrew March had berated him soundly before latching on to one of the captain’s arms and removing Sterling from the scene. “I still do not understand,” Reiley said, rummaging through his medical chest, back in Sterling’s quarters. “Just do as yer told. Rest is all he needs,” March now ordered. “Mr. Symms, ye know well enough to keep the door locked. I’ll see that no one disturbs him on my side.” “Aye Mr. March,” the older man replied as the first officer turned to resume his duties on deck. “No, wait!” Reiley said following after March. “What be it now?” March asked, moving closer in the dim candle light, lowering his voice. “Doctor Reiley, I think ye do not understand the seriousness…” “Aye that is correct. I do not understand and in order to help the captain best I can I think I need to,” Reiley argued. “You have obviously encountered this before…” “Aye, tis my fault. I should have seen it coming. It were clear things were not well with him during the storm,” March agreed. “Not well?!” Reiley continued. “The man has been shot, ill, and married to a stranger in less than two weeks time. He was awake through out the run of the hurricane, constantly on deck…” “Tis his job, Doctor!” March interjected angrily. “As is seeing to the safety of the crew! I suggest ye see to yer duties as well.” But Reiley would not back down. “The man is past the point of simple exhaustion. No one has even tended to the dressings since last I did. That is my bandaging…Why is it, that no one can keep him in bed where he belongs? Who the bloody hell is responsible for his safety, since he damn well does not look after himself?” Before the first officer could stop himself, he grabbed Reiley by the front of his waistcoat. “I do the best I can with him. He be not like this often, thank God, but he does have his moments. Something or someone has set him off. In most cases, he be, as ye have claimed, worn thin. He has not been completely right,” March said tapping the tip of his finger against the doctor’s temple, “Since he was ransomed from the Turks. Do you understand the situation better now, Doctor?” “My God, what did they do to him?” Reiley asked as March released his grip on him. March made his way to the cabin door. “Better to ask what didn’t they do to him and others that be as stubborn as John is,” March replied then looked at the old Steward. “Remember, no one is to see him like this. Now put him to sleep Doctor, even if ye need to cave in his skull in order to do so.”