Black Nate

I did? So maybe I did. . . . Have ya heard the one about the. . . . no. . . . Oh, there I was on the deck minding my own business when. . . . no, never mind. I was in this pub once and a lass came up to me and. . . . No, maybe not that one. . . . Let me think if I can remember a good story, well, a clean one at the least.

Nate Did as ordered and did not shoot the man, but grabbed him up as did Africa. He held the grizzled soul while he explained himself to the captain, but never once did Nate loosen his grip or lower his pistol. The man might seem friendly and peacable, only wishing a way out of this port, but you never could tell. A storm often follows a peaceful time and Nate wasn't about to let his guard down.

Nate watched as commodore Tar hurried to his ship. He cocked his head to the side for a second before resuming his movement towards the Rakehell. Again he was stopped in his tracks as a man dashed from a building towards the ship. Nate started at a dead run towards the man and drew his pistol. "Oi, you! Avast there! Nate continued to run at the man. Just as the interloper was about to make the gang plank Nate stopped and leveled his pistol and cocked it. "Avast I say or I'll put a bullet in ya!"

As Nate walked to within a cables length of the Rakehell, he stopped and began to laugh. "Oh Father, That's a sight I wouldn't a believed had I not seen it wit me own eyes." His captain and the bosun having high tea on the quarter deck, was just an odd sight to him. As his laughter calmed he started towards the gang plank and a carriage pulled up, depositing commodore Tar and clattering away. Nate stopped again and waited to see what his return would bring.

Aye, us pyrates wot?

Oi, Cigars n brandy, next ta th fire. After a fine meal that's a thing ta do an tell tales of past adventures. Need ta be sittin in an overstuffed leather wingback chair too.

Nate grinned wildly at Africa for a second before straightening and snapping off a salute. "Tank ya Africa, I won't be long, just need ta get wot I left behind." Before making an exodus from the ship, Nate went below and gathered up his cutlass, checked his pistol to be sure it was in order. He walked with purpose across the gangplank and onto shore. It took Nate little time to find the turkish bathhouse and entered. The attendant remembered him and smiled a great big smile. The man spoke very quickly and all Nate could do is nod until the man stopped speaking. "I come back fer me clothes that were wet last evenin." He gestured to his shirt and slops while talking and the man understood. He headed back into the recesses of the bathhouse and returned with a neat bundle. Opening the string he took out the shirt and showed Nate where it had been repaired, then he did the same with the slops, but seemed apologetic as the repairs were more extensive. Nate smiled and thanked the man and put his hand into his pocket. The attendant held up his hands and shook his head. He folded up the slops and shirt and tied the string again, handing the bundle to Nate and all the while talking ushered him to the door. Nate thanked the man again and with a wave began walking back to the wharf. He shook his head once or twice, replaying what had just happened in his head. Nate got to the Wharf just in time to see Silkie and Robert heading down the wharf away from the two ships. He spied Red Cat on the deck with a foot on a cannon. As he got nearer she walked aft, and yelled some orders to the crew and disappeared below.

Nate helped the others finish up unloading the cargo and stood on shore wiping the sweat off his face with a piece of linen from his pocket. Watching the inhabitants of the spanish sea side, he did his best to be friendly. Some of the people spoke so fast it didn't even sound like they were talking, just jumbled syllables. Nate walked back up the gang plank and to the water barrel on deck, he gulped down several cups. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked around the deck. Nate saw Africa looking at him and was about to find something to do when he noticed the slightest of smiles on the face of the big moore. Nate stood straight and put his knuckles to his brow at the bosun, and Africa gave a very slight nod in return. Nate turned away and grinned his wild grin and looked skyward. "A finer day there never was, Father." With a spring in his step, even after the heavy labor, Nate walked across the deck to the side of the ship, all the while looking for those he knew best. None were on the deck of the Rakehell, Nate looked to the other ship and saw Red Cat and Silkie there with a large man in conversation. He was about to roll down the gang plank but he didn't have permission to leave the ship. With great hesitation, mainly so he could think of a good reason, he approached Africa. "Africa, Sah! Permission ta go ashore ta retrieve my things that was left behind last evenin!" He smiled sweetly at the big moore, but feared the dark look he got back would not produce a granting of permission.

My, there be lots o leftovers. A cold sandwich will be good for now. Tanks.

Oi, any leftovers ta be had? Gonna be another long day.

Aye. Early day too. and we're short because of the Holiday so it'll be a rough one. Make that two Irish coffees And later, forget the coffee, Baileys on the rocks, or some Jamesons straight up.

Oi, mind if I ave some o that too? And coffee, lots o coffee, the thicker th better. I hate workin on holidays. Make it an Irish coffee

Patrick, Maybe if we wish real hard Keep wishin, harder. . . . Need some more cinnamon toast ta power th wishin And some rhum ta wash it all down.

Huh, maybe Jenny could try wearin one o them costumes. But that might lead to. . . . nevermind. Patrick, yer durty mind might be rubbin off on me, or not.

Nate stood at the ready when Africa began giving orders to unload the cargo, now that it had been inspected. He followed the lead of others who had been aboard much longer than he had been. Once or twice Nate pulled rank when something wasn't rigged right and quickly fixed the problem, or had some of the others fix it once he explained the danger. Nate worked well with the others and he earned some respect along the way. Nate enjoyed the work, had a way to get others to enjoy the labor, and was quick with a grin and a comment with his quirky sense of humor.

Navy coffee. Chewy. (it's the bottom of the pot)

What you all need is some REAL Navy Coffee. It'll take chrome off a bumper but boy is it good. I don't know what's in it, but wow.

Oi! It's been time fer a Lager since Monday! That means I got some makin up ta do. At least one fer every day that's passed. Give us five of em, luv. And no, it ain't too early fer a Lager. Whiskey, maybe.

Nate didn't know exactly what goods were stowed in the hold. He did his best to show the Port Authority man everything, all the while wishing he were up on deck. Nate's curiosity had him wondering what all the cursing had been about, hoping it wasn't something that would keep them in port any longer then they had to be. He still had his last pistol on his belt, but his cutlass and musket were stowed out of the way in the berthing space. Nate brought his attention back to the spaniard as he inspected a bale of wool, noticing a hole sliced into it. The spaniard pointed to it and asked Nate something which he didn't understand, but knew what he was asking. "That? Checkin fer vermin." The spaniard wore a confused look. "Ya know, vermin, rats. Rats? Mice? Squeaky little bastards?" Nate stuck his hands to his face with his fingers splayed out and stuck out his front teeth, making feeble squeeking noises. The spaniard looked at him queerly for a bit then seemed to understand. "Ah, roedores! Si!" Nate grinned at him. "Aye, rowdoerees!" They both shared a laugh and moved on.

Nate was told to show the man from the Port Authority the goods in the hold. "Aye aye capin" he said with a salute. Nate looked at the spaniard. "You speaky english? Do ya? No? Come on, foller me. Come. This way." Speaking and giving lots of hand signals to the spaniard, Nate finally got him to understand what he wanted him to do. The man began to follow Nate into the hold. "Father, ya test me so." As they climbed down, Nate heard a plethora of curses in his native language, more than he'd heard spoken in what seemed a lifetime.

Nate stood and watched the scene play out in front of him as he waited to haul up the cargo. He watched as commodore Tar had jumped into the hold and attacked some of the bales of wool, withdrawing something from each. Nate watched as captain Ransom confronted him, along with Red Cat. As things had come to a stand still, he stepped up next to the Cat as the commodore bustled off the ship into a carriage that had pulled up and it sped away. A lump formed in his stomach for some reason. "Somthin ain't right wit him. Somthin ain't right wit dis whole ting." Nate spoke to no one in particular, just saying what was on his mind, what he felt. Looking skyward as he was one to do so often, Nate mumbles some then spoke clearly. "I know ya tink it odd me askin Father, but it is the Spanish after all. If it were th French, well I wouldn't bother ya." Nate brought his eyes back to level and adjusted his ill fitting hat. "Ah, capin, Ma'am? Jus wonderin if we're gonna offload all this now, or we gonna wait fer th commodore's return first?" Nate waited for an answer, looked at Red Cat and gave a smile and returned his attention to the captain.

Nate walks over the the interesting device Inigo pointed to earlier. "Wot ya call this? Th wayback machine? It's. . . . nice?"

shakes head incredulously and shrugs his shoulders. Nate turns back to Inigo. "Yer 'thee pirate hunter, are ya? Not much business fer ya here." Looking skyward. "Yes Father, I'll ask him. The Almighty wants to know why you didn't send this Robbie his way, He says Robbie's overdue."

Nate steps back quickly as Silkie swoops in and hugs Inigo. "Jaesus woman, warn me next time! Or give me one too." Nate snickers. "Wot's iss about huntin pirates? Waterlogged sheep?" A confused look crosses his face.

The ship was against the docks, moored tightly and ready to offload her cargo. Nate stood at the ready with the lines to the block and tackle reeved out along the deck so as not to get tangled. Nate looked around the docks for anyone who looked suspicious, but to him everyone looked somewhat suspicious. Nate minded his duties and held fast at his post while others in the hold readied the cargo.