Pyrates of the West Coast

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter nodded his head at what the captain asked...::

Aye... Mr. Badger! Take us to windward o' the Danzig! Ah.... four cable lengths away!

::turning back to the captain...::

A wake... tha'd be grande... indeed.... Lessee.... Iffn we make landfall in th' next two days'r so... we c'n cook up four, five chickens.... two pigs.... a goat..... A fine feast... Wi' yer permission, I'll inform th' cook.... Christine gonna be busy, busy...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Captain, I should like to give fishing a try! You know many of Jesus's apostles were fishermen.....

[William Brand]

"Aye, and tax collectors, my good Monsignor. And tax collectors."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

(Taking stock of the planned decadence... I remove myself from the main deck and go below to bid that God for sakened project of secrecy I never seem to find time to finish. So I get all the way down to the hold where I found Christine and lo it be seemin the door lock has been picked and its standing open..... I light a lantern there and ease it open slowly gaining entrance as I peer into and shine the light into the dark recess noting the barrels are straight and even and all though under suspect all seems well. I hang the lamp to reach in behind the stack of water barrels I have hidden the desk I have been hiding there and find cloth.. Snugly stuffed into the void where my project should be and pull and pull to no avail. I ease the top barrel down onto the hull framing ribs and then reach back into find the cloth more easily making it's way out under my consistant tugging. It releases and I almost loose my balance at its hold. I clearly feel something metalic is wrapped in its entirety. Unfolding the wrap I now see it is a very nice cutlass. One I think should be handed over ot the quartermaster on the double. I leave the barrel and make my way to the main deck with its folded fabric swaying in the breeze I address:)

Mr Lassiter sir! I have just found this whilst looking for a certain project i am working on and most certain to be finishing should the time allow but as for this sir it is a cutlass.......

I take leave only to address that closet (hold) where Christine was found? The door sir where it were I found this the door sir shows lock damage due to forcing its pry to the open! I'll be in the basket sir it be my shift.......

[Rummy3]

Ah, tis proud I am that I have finished this cane for Mad Jack. Hopes he is happy with this instead of that makeshift oar he has been using. :)

[Jonathan Hawks]

Well, thar Rummy, I sees ya does fyne good work.  The Capin should be pleanty pleased by what ya done fer um. The finish be as nice as the masts on deck. Now, i'fn ya let me, I know this aint my place, but I cana make a fyne brass cap fer it ta finish it off afor ya gives it to em. What say ya.

*Huge smile and a quick wink at Mr Hawks* "I was SO hoping you would volunteer such an adornment! It would be much appreciated !" :)

"I be gettin right to it, Rummy. I needs ta heat up the other kettle o brass and pour the mold in sand. I be surprisin ya for em. I will make some decoration in the mold. I thinks he will like it. Won't take long. I will send fer ya and the stick once I got it done so it can be fitted right proper."

Mr Hawks hands the walking stick back over to Rummy.

"Ana, i'fn ya needs another, just let me know. I will get right on it."

Jonathan walks away to tend to makin the bobble for the cane

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The angry intent of Sol induced heat was loosing its hold upon this side of the mortal realm. The happenings occuring in succession with their arrival to the area were enough to make the most non superstious of seaman whisper of ill castings in regard to the English wrought frigate painted in Caribbean sunset hues. Whisperings that fell to sudden hush when Chasse de Mer's commander neared, though through veiled scrutiny, Jean-Micheale Fournier missed little in regard to the world around him and much could be told by looking into the windows of the soul.

Standing in shirt sleeves and cotton britches upon "the Holy Ground" of quarterdeck, the Frenchman contemplated the latest events addressed by Capitaine "Hollande" in passing earlier in the day. With unconscience narrowing of amber hued vision, even Fournier had to push back the tugging thought that yon fregate, was indeed, an "unlucky ship". There were many things that nagged his mental faculties involving this situation and the anomilies that cropped up in rank and file with what seemed no end in the near future. Indeed, this had proven a series of incidents that smacked of strange.

Extending 'glass to full potential, the Frenchman gave coursory survey to now familiar neighboring decks, not that there was any need or desire to "spy" on near distant happening, it was more a matter of curiosity and lack of dusky skinned distractions to place his concentration eleswhere. Pausing in arched travel, he observed the intense announcement of reddish mane and a knowing smile played his lips in the finalization to what he had suspected. There was no denile to what his cousin had mentioned earlier, and to what William "Hollande" had played deaf ear to when inquired upon. Some how, though undisclosed in detail, the other captain had managed to enlist the services of Jaquelyn Bertrand and the quandry now lie in just how much Captain "Hollande" knew of his pixie featured ship mate. Fournier chuckled quietly as the 'glass contiued in travel, only to be halted in movement once again.

Focusing intently against the dying light, Jean-Micheale kept the figure that had perked intrest in crosshair view. A brief furrow of brow stated to the outer world that mental gears were chewing on an elusive recognition that wanted to crawl from the shadows but was sluggish doing so. It had been another time and a far away place....But when and where were the questions that harried his memory, much as the evening breezes harried the dark lengnth of hair bound against such treacherous wants.

Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier drummed fingers upon railing surface, puzzleing Fate's newest draw of card...

[William Brand]

William stood at the table in the ward room puzzling over the contents of Van Buren's sea chest. One Doglock Pistol had been found previously and was sitting on the table next to several changes of men's clothing, a dutch bible, boots, dipper, dish, two bars of yellow soap, a jacket, an extra blanket and a pair of shears.

"It adds up to nothing." William said aloud to the empty room.

There was a knock at the door and Mister Lasseter's voice came through requesting entrance. When he entered the room, he handed over William's cutlass without delay or ceremony. William took it and looked at Mister Lasseter with some surprise.

"Twas in the for'ard hold, Cap'n." Mister Lasseter said with a shrug. "The padre found it there, all wrapped and cozy."

William turned it over a few times to see if any damage or use had come upon it in its absence. It looked no worse for wear.

"Thank the Monsignor for me." William said, smiling. "You won't be offended if I wear this more often than the mortuary sword, will you? Now that I am Red Wake and not Hollande."

"No, Cap'n. Ye can never have to many swords."

William nodded. It was true. He had once owned seven at once. A ridiculous number aboard a ship, when one only needed one at a time, two if he could handle them.

"Mister Lasseter, there is a bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape hidden in the galley cupboards. Have Mister Warren take it to Fournier with my compliments aboard the cutter, and ask him to ask Fournier if I might turn his dinner invitation into a midday meal tomorrow. He can expect a compliment of seven I should think."

"Aye-aye Cap'n."

"And Mister Lasseter, ask Mister Warren if he has a name for our new boat."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Mister Warren had been accepted aboard with the respect given to an emissary. Lieutenant Lamaire gave warm greeting then refused the dispatch, stating that he would conduct the Coxswain below where it could be delivered properly.

Upon entrance of the Great cabin, Fournier offered a seat and waved his servant to procure a glass of claret for their guest.

"You are out for a late night pleasure cruise, Monsuier Warren?" Jean-Micheale chided with a hint of smile.

The Watch Dog's Coxswain stopped mid-draught at the comment then place the glass down to relay request. Listening with slight incline of head, Fournier nodded in accord.

"Tres vien! With my compliments, please inform Capitaine Hollande that we look forward to his company and to that of his entourage, s'il vous plait. Also...you will relay to him that with gratitude I accept his gift and shall enjoy its content with relish."

A wave to his servant gave instant refill of Mister Warren's partially empty glass and the retrieval of writting impliments. Fournier glanced to the Coxswain and excused himself for a moment to scribe a corresondance.

Capitaine William Hollande

Merci for your generous gift, I have always held great pleasure in the qualities of fine wine. Your suggestion of mid-day meal is acceptable and I can say that we shall do our best to appease with our humble offering.There is no need for formality, I find this will place a better air of ease for all attending. In closure, may I be so bold as to request that the company of Mademoiselle Bertrand be included in attendance. That is, of course, if she is not already one of the seven of mentioned party. I do believe that you are aware of whom I speak.

Veuillez Croire,

Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier

The ink was allowed to dry while Mister Warren finished the crystal offering. Lieutenant Lamaire moved from his standing by the door to deliver dispatch in to the Coxswain's keeping. The Capitaine stood with respect to the other's departure wishing good tidings for the eve then watched after, as the door was closed and the room containing four became two once again.

[William Brand]

As darkness fell the sounds and smells of food being prepared in the galley drifted out onto the gun deck. The intoxicating blend of roasted chicken and pork was distracting to say the least. Faces that had been dour were awakened by promises of feasting and drinking. A levity spread throughout the ship that was refreshing.

William searched out the Master Carpenter, wending his way through the ship and conversations of the night. He found her and the Blacksmith speaking on subjects of their respective crafts.

"Rummy." William said, calling her from the conversation."I wonder if we might press you to play tonight. The lads and lasses need a dance I think."

"Certainly." she returned. "I would be more than happy to."

"Thank you, Rummy."

William made his way back along the passages of the ship until he was at the galley. There he found Christine, along with several that she had recruited, hard at work in the preparation of food both simple and exotic. He smiled appreciatively, thanking them all for their labor and complimenting them on food not yet tasted.

When he returned to the quarterdeck, he found Mister Badger there, Mister Lasseter having gone down for some rest before the festivities. The cutter was just returning at the starboard waist. He met Mister Warren there who presented him with a letter from Fournier.

William read it once over and stood awhile in thought. Then he made his way to the surgery to pass the letter on to the Doctor. He almost bumped into Jack, whom he heard was now known as Mister St. Anthony. Still, he thought he might call him by the name he had known him by at least once more, given the casual air of the night.

"Jack. How are you?"

[The Doctor]

:: Jack was walking through the companionway toward the main deck, lost in thought. While the violent fever had somehow most of his shattered memory, nagging gaps still remained. He had spent the past few days remembering his service to the Crown; the patrols off Gibraltar and Ushant, the decisive action against French forces at Sardinia that had earned him the Order of the English Empire a scant two years after making captain, his service as a privateer in the West Indies. And the mutiny. Part of him knew that it was not his fault, for he had never misused anyone under his command nor slighted them their shares. Nevertheless, it was an event that he would never forget, and certainly never forgive those involved. Especially himself.

The intervening years, those where he was marooned, rescued, and scrabbled out a living as a pirate... the madness had clouded and twisted everything into an incomprehensible mess. Perhaps he would one day know what happened. Perhaps he was better of not knowing at all.

He knew that the Doctor and the Gascon would keep his secret, for it would never do to reveal his past. Not now. Doing so might at the very least undermine Captain Brand's authority with the People, and at the worst mean Jack's death at the hands of a distrustful crew. So, continue the addled ruse he would, even as he struggled with old comfortable habits of military formality while on deck.

In the midst of his reveries, he almost collided with Captain Brand ::

Captain! My apologies, sir. I should have been paying more attention. Quite a tangle that would have made, and neither of us sound enough avoid more harm, eh?

:: Jack smiled, shoving his worries back into their dark corner ::

I'm well, sir, thank you for asking. Recovering nicely, thanks to Dr. Fitzgerald. Seem's the fever unlocked a few memories. I can tell you, it is nice to know my own name again. Perhaps I'll remember more as time passes. And Rummy's made me a cane to replace the oar shaft I've been using. I was just on my way to get to from her.

How are you, Captain? What with our two unexpected consorts and the odd goings on as of late, that has to wear upon a man. You seem to be bearing up well none the less, sir.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

With decisive bob and weave, the Surgeon navigated the crowded containment of companionway in hopes of reaching weather decks and fresh air. The mood of this impromptu Wake drew memories from the Auld Sod and the same such ceremony granted her father in rite of passage. Oh, that he were here now to spur on the craic; granted, he had been a man of Gascogne in origin, but, hesitation had not existed in Rene Bertrand's adoption of her mother's country or its traditions.

Hugging surface of bulkhead to allow the right of way to a massive foremast jack, Tempest spotted the Captain and Master at Arms just up ahead in the swirling pool of humanity. A quick side step to the right and hop to the left brought her into proximity and she tucked herself into the safety that the two larger men offered against moving chaos.

"Good evening to you, gentleman. I see you both well, at least as well as one could expect under current times. I shall never again utter undue comment to the sick-ward's stuffiness, for this area is trifold worse at the momment."

Amusement played her features until vanquished by an unseen jostling from behind, its offender dissapearing into anominity.

" Zut, mince! " she commented underbreath. " I fear I must beg your pardons in leaving your company, it is right uncomfortable down here and I long for more unrestricted movement"

Glancing to the Master at Arms, " Please do me the honour of your audience in the morning, inspection of healing progress needs be attended, sir."

Tempest began to take her leave when the Captain removed a once sealed parchement and handed it to her. She looked to him questioningly after observing the broken seal then opened it with the nod of direction given. With gleen of opening lines, she wondered why William had handed it over, there was nothing there that could not simply be relayed in the open. Further on she parused the text and halted at the last two lines with a smallish cock of brow. Folding the paperment, she returned it to William with casual air.

" Very well...Gentleman." Tempest voiced with a smallish bow, turning to the milling frey, she continued on to obtain original destination.

[William Brand]

William waited until the Doctor had greeted them and past before continuing his conversation with the Master At Arms.

"I am well. Very well, despite the loss and revelations of the day. As you are improving, I should like you to return to duty, but only when our good doctor has given you her leave."

He walked in the company of Mister St. Anthony until they had gained the gun deck, then he parted to the quarterdeck to take a look at the surrounding seas and to think on the morrow.

[The Doctor]

:: Jack smiled at the Captain's desire that he return to active duty. He watched Captain Brand ascend to the ship's hallowed ground, the quarterdeck, and thought to himself that while he had been bred to command, William Brand was an honorable man that he could follow without a second thought.

Jack made his way over to Rummy, and accepted her artfully crafted walking stick. ::

Rummy, I am indeed honored. You are an impressive mistress of your craft! This cane's beauty is excelled only by your own.

:: He smiled at Rummy's blush, and in exchange for her wonderfully made walking stick, he gave he the ruined oar he'd been using ::

A poor exchange, I know. Perhaps, if I could purchase you an extra dram or two of rum for your trouble?

[Rummy3]

" 'Tis me own delight to be able to use my craft to help me mates, Mad Jack. I am so pleased that it will be a helpful aid to your recovery. You do look a bit more stable with this instead of the oar. I will find a good use for your discard, mate." *smiles and leans closer to her friend, whispering:* " I apologize for failing to act on my own and anticipating your needs much earlier. You should never have had to even ask!"

*I turn and make my way back to Mr Hawks workstation. He has placed the Captains walking stick against the wall and points to it as he sees me aproaching*

"Rummy, our project is complete with a special addition." Mr Hawks tells me as he points out our captain's new cane. "Look here" he tells me as he reveals the mystery of the special addition he mentioned.

*I look in amazement as I shake my head. "Thank you Mr Hawks. You have outdone yourself." My thoughts of what a wonderful craftsman Mr Hawks truly is boggle my mind. *

As I make my way towards the Captain's quarters, I cross his path just outside the surgeon's ward. Outstretching my arm - I place the cane in his hand and silently show him Mr Hawks handiwork. Our eyes meet and I see the captain's nod of approval. Sharing a momentary smile, I turn to make my way to my seachest to fetch my flute for tonight's festivities.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

From a hook of support, the layers of lace and emerald green brocade silently mocked her as she partook of Vienesse brewing. Vissually roving the finite Parisian tailoring, Tempest was reminded of a past existance that seemed to only exist as a hazy dream; in a past that did not fit the now. What a strange thing, she contemplated, to travel half a world away and be faced with ghosts that knew not to stay in their proper places, disobeying the boundries of distance and time.

Armand broke the paths of her musing as he closed the large oaken door, a fresh offering of exotic brew in hand. Setting down the china pot, he slyed a glance to the bold scream of color contrasting the dim surround then topped off her cup.

" I have been above..."

The Surgeon inclined her head to the wording.

" The scents that fill the breezes hint of Carpaccio de Boeuf..." His statement trailed unfinished and taking a seat, he filled the cup that belonged in his possesion.

" I would not be concerned." He offered, she did not comment. " It was six years ago, and I am sure that is enough time to allow a dulling of circumstance..." The Gascon attempted to play it off as nothing...They both knew otherwise.

" You said that there were no issues raised in your last visit, when the dispatch to Martinique was given..."

"Oui...But, that was in the presence of Moreau and time was of the essence. This time it will not be the same, I had hoped that the only possible contact would be in an advisory capacity. I fear that this meeting will be of a more unofficial bearing..."

[William Brand]

William walked about the quarterdeck for nearly an hour, enjoying his cane to the fullest. The quality of the two crafts that had come into play was well represented in the casting and carving of the Master Carpenter and Blacksmith. The height was perfect and the construction so solid that William thought he might use it as a weapon, if occasion permitted, especially the dog skull cast into the top. Rummy and Mister Hawks had married the two works into a fine piece, and even now that he was nearly beyond the need of it, he still found that he enjoyed it as an affectation. He laughed at the possibility that he could ever look the part of a "gentleman", though he had appreciated the respect of such a title and in a place where it had meant more so long ago.

He walked the decks most of the night and into the morning as men and women drank, sang and danced on the gun deck. He was sure the sounds were carrying to the Danzig Trader and the Chasse de Mer with mixed and confusing results, but he didn't care. The crew deserved a chance to stretch weary legs in song and wash off the cares of loss.

When they reached the Isles near St. Vincent or Margarita, they would surely make a good profit from those rare and precious goods gleaned from the Danzig.

All was as well as could be expected.

Rummy played. Christine sang. Women danced. Men tried to. The night slipped away into morning.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

It was hard to wake up after the late night turned early morning festivities. Tudor streatched as she stumbled onto the deck, her feet aching from so much dancing. After a quick trip to the galley, she headed for the captain's cabin with tankard full of coffee for him. She found him at his desk.

"You anticipated my need, Miss Smith." He said, smiling as she handed him the coffee. "Please go and wake Mr. Lasseter, Mr. Badger, Miss Fitzgerald, Mr. St. Anthony, Mr. Youngblood and Mr. Warren. Have them gather on the gundeck, prepared to go dine on the Chasser de Mer."

She gave the captain a half smile, and a quick curtsy, she turned worlessly. "Then get some coffee for yourself."

She headed first towards the good Docotor's rooms, and knocked politely on the door.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand paused in efforts to secure the bindings of intricate torture about Tempest's waist. Moving to the door, he slyed to her with a look of amusment, " Do not move or breath."

Receiving the Captain's Steward with flourished bow, Mademoiselle Smith was allowed the sacred hall. There was no concealing the look of suprise upon her young features in viewing the Surgeon's choice of adornment, but, wisely made no comment upon the floor legnth gown trailing the planks below, nor the over-spill from low neckline.

Message received with gratitude to its bearer, the Steward left the Ward onto other destinations predetermind, and Armand returned to the torture at hand.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor moved on to the quaterdeck to find Mr. Lasseter already awake. "Morning, sir!" She said as she approached him. "The Captain is taking his officers over to the French ship for a meal, so he asks that you make yourself ready and meet the other on the gundeck"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye, Ms. Smith... My compliments ta th' Cap'n.... I'll go freshen up fer th' crossin'...

:: the Quartermaster headed below to is quarters, brushed down his wesket and coat, did a quick shine to his boots and put them on, did the same with his sword and pistols... finally brushing off his hat, he set in on his head and made his way back to the gun deck...::

[Pew]

::Waking up slowly I stagger my back back topside. Seeing my dagger impaled in the gunwale, it suddenly reminds me of home. Finding my tankard still half full from the night before, I slowly swig the remainder from last night.::

Mr. Youngblood sah, chance in takin' a dip o'board sah? 'Ow we be lookin' for the duties t'day sah? Afta'wards o'course sah. . .

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"Two down, four to find . . ." Tudor mummbled to herself after speaking with the Quatermaster as she set off to find the next person on her list. She smiled when she saw Mr. Youngblood and approached him . . .

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Gaining the Gunroom's surround, the Surgeon inwardly cursed the restriction of Parisian design and longed for the comfort of usual attire. How women could force themselves to such adornments on a daily basis was a quandray of mountainous proportion to her.Waiting patiently for the others to gather, she noted Armand's nod of approval to the vissage she cast forth. His silent support calmed some or the unease which stirred the pit of her stomach, but far from quelled its being.

[The Doctor]

:: Jack rapped quietly upon the door of the surgery ::

Doctor, are you there? You wished to examine me, and I am available if your schedule accommodates...