Pyrates of the West Coast

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Mister Lasseter. Please bring me my pistol and mortuary sword."

Aye, Aye Cap'n....

:: the QuarterMaster knuckled his forehead and turned away from the bodies on the deck... Ignoring the looks on some of the crew's faces as he strode past them, he headed below, back to the Captain's quarters and retrieved the sword and pistol, hanging from their baldric. He pulled the leather shoulder strap from its hook and carried it back to its owner...::

Here ye be, Cap'n... wot be yer wishes?

[William Brand]

William called for the Samson crew so that he might go aboard the Danzig. He asked for Mister Johnson and Mister PEW to follow him with their pistols and swords. His face was calm, but his hand shook a little from the anger he was maintaining below the surface.

He exchanged the baldric from Mister Lasseter for the wet parchment. As he shouldered the baldric, he watched Mister Lasseter's face as he read the printing there.

[Pew]

::Loading both of my pistols, I stuff them in my overcoat. I grab my cutlass and lash it's scabbard to my belt.::

Back to the Danzig, aye, Captain.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter handed the baldric over to the Captain, and was given the waterlogged parchmant in return, a questioning look on his face.... he looked at the parchment, recognized the bounty post... he lowered his head a touch, shaking it slightly....::

Oh fer th' love o'.... this again...

::Looking the captain in the eyes::

*speaks very low*

Th' ghosts o' yer past come up again... a hard thing ta leave behind ye... No matter...

:: The QuarterMaster looks about at the crew...::

Right Lads, Work ta be done... barge crew... Hmmm... I've a thought... Lessee 'ow tha' new Cutter handles? Aye?

Cap'n.... wot say you?

[William Brand]

"Aye." was all that William managed. It seemed to answer everything the Quartermaster had said and asked. William stood with his hands behind his back, unmoving. He just stared at the Danzig Trader.

Mister PEW looked almost animated by comparrison, though he moved little once his weapons were made ready. Mister Johnson was still in the act of fetching arms.

"See that the bodies are wrapped and prepared for burial at my return, Mister Lasseter."

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: The QuarterMaster pursed his lips, seeing as the Captain remained very remote, then he nodded, looked at the awaiting crew...::

Right, Ye heard th' Cap'n! Get tha' Cutter ready ta make way! On th' double! Allez, Allez! Rapido! Schnell! Get yer arses movin'!!!

::Once the crew leapt to the task, he stepped close to the Captain...::

Cap'n, sir.... I 'spect this wee bit o' parchment gonna chase ye ta yer grave.... 'owever... keepin' a sharp eye out fer it, tha' be a fine thing.... letting it get under yer skin... Aye, I sees yer fury... gonna tear ye apart... Mayhaps I should let ye be... tho tis not m'nature ta do so...

::He looks at the crew assembling for the cutter, then back at the Captain...::

Seems yer boat be ready ta board... I'll have 'em poor souls ready fer burial upon yer return... Til then...

::He knuckles his forehead, steping back so the captain has a clear way to the side and down into the cutter...::

[William Brand]

William's expression softened a little.

"We might have opened a pub together were we not already men of the sea, Mister Lasseter. Who knows. We may yet."

William walked quietly to the main mast and calling for a nail and mallet from Mister Hawks, he nailed the damning poster to it for all to see. He was certain that he would see it there eventually, and had even meant to hang one there himself, but occasion had never presented itself until now.

He stepped away from the main mast, allowing anyone who might wish to, see it for what it was.

"Lads and lasses, let it be 'Captain Brand' between us ever after this moment."

He had meant to make a speech when the time had come to let them know who he was, but now that that time had come, he couldn't think of anything else to say. William returned the mallet to Mister Hawks and passing the Quartermaster to the rail he said. "Mind that they don't stand too long staring at the masthead. I will return shortly."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

(Standing at the near to our departing Captain and crew members) Mr. Lassiter I say, Might I be of help in this regard sir?

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter stood thinking about the Captain's comment about a pub... then watched as he posted the parchment on the mainmast, told the crew, what was what, then headed to the rail...::

Aye cap'n... They won't have time ta skylark about... still got ta clear up th' mess from th' storm... An' as fer openin' a pub... nay... too sedentary fer th' likes o' me... least not at this time... well, have a care o'er on tha' dutch tub... I'll be awaitin', as will the rest o' th' crew on yer ship...

:: He smiled a quick smile, then set to things at hand..::

A'right Lads! Square away all tha' be amiss from th' storm! Fake out them lines so they dry properly! shake out all th' sails! We don't need 'em all rotted apart, do we? Mr. Youngblood! All yer guns stowed proper? All yer gun tools accounted fer? Mr. Samson! No, St. Anthony? AH, Master 't Arms! Please check all th' weapons in th' Armoury, pick some lads ta help ye polish 'em up, no rusty cutlass' 'r firelocks or I'll 'ave yer.... other leg!

Have Christine relight th' cook fire... hot food this eve!

Lookouts ta yer posts!

Gonna be a fine day, aye!

[CaptainCiaran]

(Ciaran looks at the poster for but a moment, then climbs quickly back up to the nest. Takes out his glass and begins looking first at the Danzig, then the French vessel. Ciaran notices a small group together on the deck of the Chasse de Mer. Focusing more closely, he sees that it be some of the officers with their spyglasses open and pointing in the direction of the Watch Dog.)

No doubt they wonder what all the excitment be over here, thinks Ciaran.

[The Doctor]

:: Jack spies Rummy amidst the quiet commotion on the main deck, and makes his way to her ::

Ah! Rummy, I have a favour to ask. I was hoping that you might find time to fashion a walking stick or cane for me. This broken oar-shaft is a tad too short. Whenever you may be able to, I would be most appreciative.

:: He smiles, and turns as the Captain nails a worn handbill to the mainmast. Jack move in for a closer look, and reads the text damning his commanding officer as a pyrate. "Well, well, well." thinks Jack. "Looks like I'm not the only one to have his past climb over his back and demand to be faced."

Jack walks over to the Quartermaster and stands besides the now cleanshaven man, and stares out to sea. Quietly, he speaks his mind ::

Mr. Lasseter, about that poster upon the mainmast... please let the Captain know upon his return that his Master At Arms awaits his orders, no matter where those orders take us. :: He turns his head to face the Quartermaster to smile, but a look of puzzlement crosses his face :: There it is, then. I've lost another bet. I wagered Ciaran that you'd never lose that biscuit-duster.

[Pirate Petee]

*Seeing the captain standing at the bodies and then post a piece of paper to the masthead. He walks over to it and quickly reads it. Turns and shrugs and walks away.*

Thas wot I's kina hopin fer.

*and returns to his duties.*

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: The QuarterMaster nods to what Jack says concerning his loyalties to the Captain, then cocks his head to the side, giving the Master at Arms a sidelong look...::

Well, well.... seems m'scruffy face been quite a sideshow fer all o' ye... must not be enough ta keep all o' ye busy... Shall I reiterate m'orders fer ye ta go an' make sure all th' weapons in th' Armoury be free o' rust an' any other ailments? Iffn' I find they be in disrepair, I'll' ave tha' other leg in a splint!

::A small grin played at his mouth::

Now off wi' ye! Send th' Surgeon up on yer way past! We got these poor souls ta make ready fer their deliverance ta th' deep blue.... ye'll nay wish ta join 'em!

*low to himself* bloody blasted slip o' th' razor... lost a bet wi' so n' so... gonna 'ave ta buy so n' so a drink... feh.......

[The Doctor]

:: Jack stifles a laugh and nods his acknowledgement to the Quartermaster ::

Aye, sir. And what of the Mr. Van Buren's undeclared doglock? Do you wish to impound it, or shall I? No doubt the scoundrel will after it yet, unless we fish him out of the blue as well.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye, add th' lock to th' list o' arms.... an' post a guard, someone ye trust.... keep yer keys, th' guard is not ta have access...

Mayhap we may fish 'im out... or not... we'll just 'ave ta wait n' see....

[Rummy3]

::  Jack spies Rummy amidst the quiet commotion on the main deck, and makes his way to her ::

Ah!  Rummy, I have a favour to ask.  I was hoping that you might find time to fashion a walking stick or cane for me.  This broken oar-shaft is a tad too short.  Whenever you may be able to, I would be most appreciative.

*Breaks a gleaming smile at Mad Jack* "I would be proud to make you a cane for you luv. I have just the perfect piece of lumber that is left over from a cane that I had completed for our captain just this morning. I was plannin' ta take his to his cabin later this day. Perhaps you'd like to see it before I pass it along. That way, ye can let me know if it needs to be a bit different in length. "

[The Doctor]

Aye, sir. Consider it done. And I'll have the current guard shifted out.

:: Jack looks back at the now shrouded bodied lying upon the deck, shakes his head in pity for the poor souls lost in such a grisly manner, then heads aft toward the Armoury, and to fetch the Doctor ::

[Pew]

::Looking at the handbill, tacked to the mast::

Wot git wrote this up?

::Standing in a group of crew members, I blurt out::

If'n we be pyrates, WHERE BE ME GOLD?!?!?!

::A belly laugh erupts from the crew, but gets slowly silenced by a stern look from Mr Lasseter::

Right sah, sorry sah. I be a 'eadin' to the cutter . .

[William Brand]

They went aboard the sleek cutter and were soon moving away at speed under sail. Mister Warren looked right at home aboard the trim vessel and he brought them to the Danzig with speed.

"Permission to come aboard!" William called, and in short order, they were allowed to board the ship. They were greeted by the care worn Ship's Master, Thomas Lenaerts. He was flanked by a few of the marine officers and a small rabble of the Danzig's crew.

"Captain Hollande." he said, presenting his hand.

William took it before correcting him. "Brand is my name. William Brand."

Mister Lenaerts seemed confused, and the name didn't register on his face. "I apologize. I was told..."

"Rode Golven..." said a man at William's left.

William turned a little toward the junior officer of marines who had interrupted the Ship's Master. The man seemed a little embarrassed by his over loud pronouncement. Others were translating to those not able to follow in English. As English was turned to Dutch, more faces began to stare.

Lenaerts removed his hand almost at once, not from distaste or anger or even fear. It might have been instinct, but it was more than likely the look of the young officer and the blood draining from his features.

"Aye." William said quietly, recognizing the Dutch version of his terrible nickname.

Most of the men seemed not to understand, after all, it had been some eight years and many of them were young. Still, some of them seemed to grasp what the name meant almost at once. Others were beginning to as translation, as well as explaination, went about the gathering circle.

William pressed on as if none of it mattered. "I am here for Mister Van Buren."

A silence followed, except for a little translation that continued. Looks were exchanged between all and one nervous man gripped the basket of his sword entirely too tightly. William noted that Mister Johnson and Mister PEW took notice of the man enough that he let his hand fall away from the basket, too troubled by their threatening stares not to.

"Mister Van Buren." William repeated, his tone losing some of its pleasantry.

Lenaerts looked hesitant, but pressed forward just the same. "Ve have no such person. Ve have a Van Druyten and a Van..."

"Van Eewijck." the junior officer finished. Lenaerts nodded.

"Van Buren was one of mine." William began, not wanting to explain the rest, but doing so anyway. "I believe he came aboard your ship and slew Eynbrecht and Visser."

This caused a stir stronger than the revelation of his name that built as the rest were made to understand. All of them looked surprised, thinking their own had been lost to the sea, not some treachery. Some looked angry at once, some stricken. The fact that Eynbrecht and Visser had been liked was reflected in every emotion shown.

"I am sorry for your loss."

"Bent u?" one man dared in Dutch, not knowing William's use of that language.

"Ben I?" William looked the man straight in the eye. "Ja ben ik!"

The man took one full step back. The officers and crew seemed to lessen their Dutch a bit.

William would have continued on in Dutch, but thought it better to speak in a tongue where he knew all the words he wished to use. He waited a moment. Purposely waited.

"I want this ship searched stem to stern." William looked about to see if any protest would come from the Danzig crew. "If Mister Van Buren is found aboard, I want him brought to me alive."

[The Doctor]

*Breaks a gleaming smile at Mad Jack* "I would be proud to make you a cane for you luv. I have just the perfect piece of lumber that is left over from a cane that I had completed for our captain just this morning. I was plannin' ta take his to his cabin later this day. Perhaps you'd like to see it before I pass it along. That way, ye can let me know if it needs to be a bit different in length. "

That would be very kind of you, Rummy. I shall find you later and we may discuss the matter over a tot of grog, then?

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

The commotion going on above and behind me wasn't even the smallest of distractions. I knelt over the three of em lying there and was involved in blessing a silent passage to those met and known. I had worked my way from Mr Eynbrecht over to Mr. Visser noticing last this womans familiarity. I got up staring at her....... (I turned to our Quartermaster) Mr lassiter does she look in any way familliar?

[Dorian Lasseter]

::once the cutter had gotten under sail, the QuarterMaster turned back to the ships company, seeing them busy at work he looked to the Bo'sun at the break in the quarterdeck...::

Mr. Badger, I'll be below for a moment, I have a need ta check on somat....

::Mr Badger nods and surveys the deck... The Monsignor asks Mr. Lasseter if he is familiar with the woman lying dead with the two dutchmen, he looks at her for a short bit...::

Nay Monsignor... can't say that she do.... Nay....

::Then the QuarterMaster heads below, down to the galley and greets Christine...::

Aye Lass, might I have some o' yer fine victuals? Aye, an' have ye anythin' I might give ta our honoured guest, locked in the bildge? AH, last eve's cold tailin's will do nicely...

::Mr. Lasseter takes a small portion of the salt beef and biscuit, sits for a very short while and eats, then he collects the cold tailings in a bowl and heads down to the bildge with a bright lanthorn, as he approaches the guard he is challenged...::

"Who goes there!"

Aye Lad, tis th' QuarterMaster.... I brung 'r guest some vittles... Has ye seen anythin' amiss as of late?

"No sir... not a soul been down here for some time..."

Goode, very goode lad... right, hold this sos I c'n unlock th' door...

::The Quartermaster hands the bowl to the guard, finds the right key and opens the lock, he then pushes the door open soundly, letting the harsh light into the darkened bildge..... Sitting on a crate with his hands shielding his eyes from the light is Mr. Scully, looking rather worse for wear..::

Ah, Lad... a sees yer enjoyin' yer stay.... here be yer meal fer this morn....

:: he sets the bowl on the deck just inside the door...::

Someone'll be back later ta get tha' an' mayhaps some beer fer ye... Until later...

::He pulls the door shut, not waiting for the man to speak, relocks the lock...::

Aye Lad... keep a sharp eye...

"Aye QuarterMaster..."

::The QuarterMaster nods, turns away and heads topside...::

[The Doctor]

:: Jack makes his way below, pausing at the door of the Infirmary to talk to the Doctor ::

Pardon me, Doctor Fitzgerald, and Armand. Doctor, your services are required upon the main deck. No hurry, nor particular need for your bag. The crew retrieved 3 quite deceased Dutch bodies from the water, one of them a woman. Monsignor Diego is no doubt administering Last Rites even now. Please forgive the interruption. Oh, and one last thing... Please pause to examine the handbill nailed to the mainmast by our own Captain Brand himself. Seems my earlier suspicions about him were correct, as well.

:: Jack gives an uneasy, half-bewildered smile that quickly vanishes, and he heads off toward the Armoury. Once at his destination, he removes the worn doglock pistol from his belt. He examines it carefully, seeing that it is of English make. A short, stout weapon it is, and loaded past what's normally due. He sets about unloading it, mindful of it's reputation for misfiring. He clears the ball and charge, and sweeps the frizzen and pan of primer ::

It's a wonder it hadn't discharged itself of it's own accord! Now, what's this...?

:: He finds the butt of the pistol loose, and unscrews the ring and fitting to reveal a curled slip of paper, fitted into a deep hole in the handle of the weapon. He unfurls the paper, and finds upon it, written in the King's English, "I will arise and go to my Father, and say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy of being called thy Son." ::

Heaven preserve us all! This weapon was intended for naught but mutiny!!

:: Jack checks his own weapon, and pockets the damning slip of paper. He locks up the Armoury, and proceeds to the main deck in search of the Quartermaster. His bearing is that of an indignant senior English officer of the Crown, boiling mad at the thought of a mutiny aboard any ship he serves... So angry, in fact, that he has completely forgotten his makeshift cane. The full weight of his forgetfullness presents itself as he climbs the steps to the main deck, but that will wait for another time. He catches sight of the Quartmaster, and thrusts the curled bit of paper at him ::

Mister Lasseter!! :: Jack's tone becomes a hiss, once Dorian turns his attention :: This bastard Van Buren has more in mind than just mischief! He has designs upon this vessel, and I have the proof here! See for yourself!

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon was lost in thought, quill hovering above bound paperment when a familiar voice broke the solem silence of medical hall, causing involentary jerk that cast inken droplet to well the log's offered surface. A smallish frown line appeared to the blemish below as she murmered displeasure to its existance before turning to the origin of verbal announcement. Gaining her feet, Tempest walked to where the Master at Arms stood and offered a smile of welcome to his presence.

" Bonjour, Monsiegnuer St. Anthony. How are you adjusting to your new found freedom?"

She listens intently to what Jack has to say, as the Gascon draws nearer to partake in the relay of messege. Her smile of warmth dissipates to be replaced with grim set of expression.

" I see..." A small shake of head punctuates the whirling of mental gears as she purses her lips and gives a slight tsk to newest happenings.

Glancing sidelong to Armand momentarily, she nods to Jack.

"Thank you, sir...As you can see, there is little rest for the wicked..." The fullness of lips twist into a context of wry smile.

"Very well, I shall be above directly and thank you for your delivery of dispatch...Though I must say, its nature is wanting."

Tempest watches as Jack turns to make way onto other matters and interupts his passage.

"Monsiegneur...I shall wish to inspect your injury's progress in the near future..." Pausing in verbose, she cocks a brow at the splintered oar being used as support.

" We really must procure something of a more amicable nature for you to use. I understand all that buissiness in sea traditions, but truly do not see that...that shattered remnant of former usage as a befitting object to your wants and needs."

As his form dissipates into the shadowed extention of the outside world, she emmits a minute exhalation of exaspiration. Glancing to the writting desk and the china pot gracing its surface, the Surgeon tsks again to the realization that what is contained within is going to be cold and put to waste by the time she returns.

"Merde..."

[William Brand]

The Danzig Trader's crew searched their ship from one end to another, careful to move forward in every compartment, so that no one could get behind them again. When at last they reached the stern of the ship, they had discovered no sign of either Mister Sons or Mister Van Buren. This news was brought to Captain Brand with some reluctance, as the Danzig crew stole nervous glances at the waiting Watch Dog and the Chasse de Mer.

William ignored this. If his own hospitality, albeit an expensive one, wasn't enough to assuage their fears, then he wasn't about to reassure them now.

"Nothing." William said. "Very well."

William was turning to leave when Mister Lenaerts posed a question that had been awhile in coming.

"May I ask if Captain Scully...is...alive?"

"He is our guest. We are adding humility to his many other favorable virtues." William didn't smile as he said this, but Mister Johnson might have, if only a little. "I cannot be sure if he will be returned to you. The price I have paid today in the loss of Mister Sons requires some compensation."

William looked about to see if anyone was less than obliging in this matter, but no one seemed to be to unhappy with the prospect of never seeing Captain Scully again, not that William would have cared.

"Vat is to become of us?" Mister Lenaerts asked.

"I have to decide that before tomorrow. There are many ports, but only a few are favorable to your needs and mine." William turned away then in the company of Mister PEW and Mister Johnson, but before he descended from the rail, he added...

"The Monsignor de la Vega will see to your men before they join the sea."