Pyrates of the West Coast

[Captain Jim]

"Aye, an 'ere I am again, in the middle o' the road wi' cannons at bow an' stern. Not unlike me life..."

[The Doctor]

:: "That's it, Jack, old boy. Keep breathing. Not as if you haven't been in this position before." He examined the Gallic frigate as they approached her side, and a nagging thought swirled frustratingly out of reach. "Fourier", they had said was the French captain's name. Jack's fingers drummed the butt of his pistol as he tried to sort out why that name was familiar. His nerves betray his in a quietly spoken display of gallows humour ::

I trust that this Captain Fournier fellow is schooled in the proper and hospitable usage of those guns his crew spends so many hours polishing?

[Pew]

::Cut-throat and I made a pass of the deck checking to see all cannon were secured, all rigging tied off and stowed proper. Making our way about the decks I see a small coin glinted in the corner of my eye. Bending down to pick it up I look at it and see that a Daalder had happened upon our decks. Whether the coin was from one of the officers we recoverd or from their previous boarding with their Captain, I make note to see Mr. Youngblood when he returns.::

::Cut-throat and I make our way to the gunwale and fetch out an eyeglass to see the cutter as it heads towards the French Man-o-War. Watching the Captain and his party make way across the distance between the ships, we can't help to let out a snicker.::

Looks like a bloody flower pot wid all dem pretty roses aboard.

::As the cutter nears the Man-o-war, Cut-throat and I scan the decks making out whom the officers are and which are crew members. We see one gentleman standing with one foot upon the gunwale, similar to ourselves, staring through an eyeglass. Waving one hand, Cut-throat returns the gesture. Counting crew on the deck and in the rigging, we note nearly 35 men.::

[CaptainCiaran]

(Spyglass to eye, Ciaran watches from on high as the Captain and crew row across to the Chasse de Mer. The Lookout smiles to himself as he notices how stiff everyone looks in their fineries, not at all relaxed and natural as they do aboard the Watch Dog.)

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

With the arrival and assembly of the visiting commander and officers of the Watch Dog, Lieutenant Lamaire called to the devisions below.

"Presentuer les arms!

In smooth response, the ring of stomp and clash of musket butt sounded upon the wooden deck as their bearers gave a show of nimble hand control to the weapons they bore before returning them to former position.

Stepping to the entourage, Capitain Fournier extended a hand to Hollande.

"We extend our welcome to you and your officers, sir. You do us honour in your presence."

Retreating into the now formed line of receiving, Fournier waited to accept each guest cordially.

[William Brand]

William Took Fournier's hand at once and greeted him smartly, looking about at the ceremony with which they were all greeted, smiling a little at his own mismatched, but well dressed rabble. Then he introduced his people in turn.

"Captain, may I introduce Mister Dorian Lasseter, Quartermaster of the Watch Dog. And this is our good doctor, Miss..."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Fournier clasped the Quartermaster's hand with firm shake in welcome,

" Bonjour, Monsiuer Lasseter and welcome..." The smile was genuine, but there was distraction laying within the amber pools of sight. " I do believe we have been in one another's company before."

As Capitaine Hollande continued, Fournier had already side stepped to the next in order, the sea weathered features took on a younger cast of expression as he took one of the daint hands and bowed deeply. The gesture stopped the visiting commanders words in passage and Fournier stepped closer, voice taking on a softer timbre as he leaned closer...

"Mademoiselle Bertrand..."

[William Brand]

"Yes..." William replied, though he had been about to introduce her as Tempest Fitzgerald. He suddenly felt all but forgotten and wondered if his praise of her on the Watch Dog was less flattery and more truth. The other officers seemed temporarily forgotten as well. Some looked surprised, others amused.

Mister St. Anthony was the only one who seemed completely free of expression, though the hand nearest his pistol seemed agitated.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Regaining formal composure, Jean-Micheale stepped back a pace. Peripheral view made note of the officer further down that kept expression steeled, though body language dictated thoughts hidden. There was a inner tug to the back reaches of the Frenchman's memory...

[The Doctor]

Jack stood upon the deck of the French frigate with his comrades, his face impassive as the initial pleasantries are exchanged. He realised that his palm was sweating, and he clasped his hands behind his back in a sort of parade rest stance, trying to force himself to relax. His eyes never left Fournier's face. There was something far too uncomfortably familiar about him...

[Dorian Lasseter]

Fournier clasped the Quartermaster's hand with firm shake in welcome,

" Bonjour, Monsiuer Lasseter and welcome..." The smile was genuine, but there was distraction laying within the amber pools of sight. " I do believe we have been in one another's company before."

:: As the two men shook hands, Mr. Lasseter studied the frenchman's face nonchalantly.... he had seen this man before, and his comment made him dig deep into his memory to remember where....::

Thank ye, Kindly, Sir...

:: As their hands parted and he moved on to the Surgeon as Captain William was introducing her, the frenchman moved close, calling her by a name not known to himself, and it appeared to noone of her crew... he brow creased slightly and as her eyes looked about, he mouthed the name to her, with a slight uplift of his eyebrows and a smile tugging at his mouth... He would get to the bottom of that bit of intrigue later...::

Ah Hmm....

::He looked at the other officers of the french ship and of his own as the introductions continued, noticing the military bearing kept high, yet somehow informal...::

[Pirate Petee]

*A small grin appeared at the corner of his mouth, this all seems so surreal. “Never before have I been a part of such a ceremony.” He thought to himself. “Smells good though, nice guns too.*

[William Brand]

William noted Fournier noting Mister St. Anthony, and while he didn't know what history might or might not lie between them, Fournier seemed interested enough to be distracted away from Tempest, and that was saying something.

William plowed on through the introductions.

"This is Mister Badger, bosun to the Watch Dog, and Mister Warren, whom you have met before." William tried not to smile, thinking back to the first ill-acquired cutter. "He serves as our most able Coxswain. This is Mister Youngblood, Master Gunner, and as able an aim as I have known."

Then without hesitation, he introduced Mister St. Anthony, too curious to attempt any lie or deception. Besides, there was so much in the open now, that deception seemed futile.

"And this is Mister St. Anthony, my Master at Arms."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Jean-Micheale accepted each officer warmly, a word of welcome, a statement of easing delivered in somewhat regal manner. Upon the introduction to the Master at Arms, the same show of mannerisms were presented, though there was a hint of differ that played betwixt the two men. An air of sizing up and searching out lay underneath the pleasantries. With a nod, Fournier stood back and echoing the other commander's presentation gave name and rank to his accompaning officers starting with Lieutenant Lamaire and working his way down. although giving no outward announcement or expression, the Frenchman's thinking bounced between the two of entourage that had captured his attention.

[The Doctor]

Jack bowed slightly to the frenchman during his introduction, his eyes never leaving the other's, all the while affecting a cordial smile.

Now face to face with Fournier, he knew. Expletives of a most ungentlrmanly nature ran though his head, but his face remained calm. "Now, just ignore me, you dog, and pay attention to the Captain..." Jack thought.

[William Brand]

William greeted each officer in turn, as did the others, but William was still surprised that Fournier should take such notcie of Mister St. Anthony while, he, William Brand, should have been sufficient distraction.

"Is it possible that I'm...jealous?" William thought amused. "It is absurd that I should care, seeing as how I have tried so hard to remain hidden for so long. Maybe I was too careful."

William puzzled over his own peculiar feelings as introductions continued. He was smiling now at his own unexpected emotions.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Standing on the quarterdeck and watching the inroductions of crew to the French captain I pocketed my brings'em near and looked up to Cairan in the nest Mate Ciaran I yelled up. He glanced down over the basket and answered Aye monsignor!. (I continued) is there any thing of need you might have? I should like to be on me way up and shall bring it for you! He waved off a simple nay. I began me climb up the mizzenmast to the empty and solitary and most reliable place for thoughts of me own evocation. I settled into the second basket noting the beauty of the day the suns brightness and the lack of wind. I first took out me brings 'em near and took account of the horizon. noting the emptyness of the sea. Looked over and onto the deck of the Danzig Trader and made note that their own lookout were lookin right at me in his glass as well. I waved and was received back with the like wave. I then took account of the encounters upon the French deck and the company of our officers upon visit were being walked to the destination of great bounty. I prayed safe return.

[Pew]

::Cut-throat and I study the ceremony aboard the Chasse Du Mer. ::

Seem on de up-n-up, eh Cut-throat?

::We study the scene, making note of where each officer is and where their arms may be within their waistcoats. We scan the decks looking for the musketeers. We notice the officers fawning over our Surgeon, a bit too much for our comfort.::

Ya know mate, I be a bilge rat if'n they not actin' like the knows each udder. Frenchies are an odd lot . . .

::We watch the Cap'n and the Watch Dog officers make their way around greeting the officers on the Chasse Du Mer.::

Eh. Cut-throat. Look to the left of Mr. Lasseter, Mr. St. Anthony seems a bit uneasy. Why be 'oldin onta 'is pistol so?

::We both strain through our eyeglasses to watch the scene unfold . . .::

[William Brand]

When all were introduced, Fournier invited them to the ward room of the Chasse de Mer. For an informal meal, the table was well spread, and with an elegance William had not known for years. Silver and finery lined both sides of the large table and it bespoke much about the power the Chasse de Mer wielded in this part of the sea.

Fournier invited each to sit in a place denoting their position, which would have been laughable aboard the Watch Dog. William never would have placed them in any order at his own table, but none of them seemed to mind their respective status, nor did they complain when the wine was served.

Fournier made a point to draw out Tempest's chair, as did William. If she was flustered, she hid it well.

When all the glasses were filled, Fournier raised his glass. "To the watchful eye of the Watch Dog. à votre santé."

Those who understood the last, repeated it in turn. Mister Lasseter spoke something quite different, but most probably gaelic, which sounded equally complimentary. Mister St. Anthony only raised his glass.

Almost at once they were served and conversation was limited to small admirations on the food and table for a time.

[Captain Jim]

Mr. Warren was enjoying the spectacle on the Chasse de Mer , the fine clothes, silver, china and wines reminding him of another time far away in Virginia, when the finest families would invite him and his wife to sup, not for social reasons, but because it was he who could supply them with the very wines that they plied him with. As first a merchant who fronted for smugglers, then a smuggler who’s front was as a merchant, Jim had become one of the most wealthy and influential men in Virginia, while never being quite accepted in polite society. Perhaps it was his rough speech, lack of proper education or the company that his livelihood caused him to keep that caused the first families of the colony to keep their distance. Perhaps they knew that his end would come and they did not wish to be associated too closely. Power and influence, without such allies, had led to his undoing.

So here was power and influence, once again. In this cabin were the powers in these waters, the officers of the Chasse and the Dog . Jim laughed to himself, the wine revealing the humor of the situation at last: the Hunt and the Dog. “Aye, that be us a’right, two huntin’ dogs sizing each other up. Now to find out whether we hunt together, or rip each other’s throats out.”

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Capitaine Fournier raised his glass and toasted all at hand, when the toast was given, all repeated it...::

Aye, To the watchful eye of the Watch Dog, Sláinte chugat.

::Mr. Lasseter then drained his glass, which was quickly refilled by the stewards at hand, he watched all the officers at hand, then as the fine dishes were served, all were distracted into quiet only breaking the silence to comment on the meal... Mr. Lasseter turned to his french counterpart...::

Ah hmmm.... Monsiuer... might ye speak english? Parle' englaise? 'ow 'bout Gaeilge? I 'ope I don't murder this... Monsiuer, le nourriture, exquis... Oui?

::He looked at the man with a smile on his face, hoping he had gotten his words right and hadn't insulted him... ::

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

looking down I sees P E W and Cutthroat both checkin out the welcomes (so i cups me hands soes it makes me hear me) Aye not be liken the ways the Frenchies be druelin over our surgeon like that aye?

[William Brand]

Ah hmmm.... Monsiuer... might ye speak english? Parle' englaise? 'ow 'bout Gaeilge? I 'ope I don't murder this... Monsiuer, le nourriture, exquis... Oui?

::He looked at the man with a smile on his face, hoping he had gotten his words right and hadn't insulted him... ::

"I can speak of your Anglish." the young officer returned, but William was already smiling and couldn't resist a remark of his own.

"But can you speak his Irish? For none of us aboard the Watch Dog can speak Mister Lasseter's English."

This brought it's share of snorts and smiles from the Watch Dog crew, but only a few smiles from those French officers that could follow the conversation. Moments later, the young Frenchman achieved an Irish brogue that William would have wagered impossible for one raised on pure French.

This brought its share of continued chuckles, but the officer himself admitted that even he didn't know what he had just said.

The mood continued this way for awhile, though some on both sides of the table seemed unreachable. There was no love lost between those of the France and the British Isles, and it was obvious that old hurts and insults persisted, but for the most part, the meal was refreshing and cordial.

[Pew]

::Looking up I see the Monsignor in the crows nest. Cuppig my hands, I yell back::

I hope dat de Frenchies don't get too freshy . . .Maybes dat Mr. St. Anthony will answer dat for us.

::We laugh as we see the crew of both Ships led below.::

[Dorian Lasseter]

"I can speak of your Anglish." the young officer returned, but William was already smiling and couldn't resist a remark of his own.

"But can you speak his Irish? For none of us aboard the Watch Dog can speak Mister Lasseter's English."

:: As Captain William spoke, a trace of crimson appeared on Mr. Lasseter's face, a smile formed as the officers of the Watch Dog tried to supress their laughter at the bit of leviety... His eyebrows went up as the french officer spoke a phrase of his mother tongue, spoken as badly as he had just spoken french a moment ago...::

"Tá mo bhríste trí thine " he said...

Lad I do believe yer right, ye don't have a right idea wot ye just said...

::When the Quartermaster was asked to translate he looked about the room, trying to gauge what the affect might be...::

Ah Hmmm.... mayhaps later... I ah, must sort it out...

Now, raise a glass!

Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat !

Aye!