Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon looked to the Quartermaster, then to the water's manner, over to the cutter then back to Dorian. The thought of being bobbed about was not one she relished heartily, but....duty was duty. And duty never took breaks and rarely gave a hoot about who it mastered. Glancing sheepishly sidelong,

"Perhaps that is a wise decision....I shall gather a few things then join you."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::with a chuckle::

Nay Lass... best ye stay aboard til yer... not so green...

::Mr Hawks and Mr St. Anthony returned with the arms, placed them in the cutter...:::

Right, Haul away!

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Tempest was very happy to resign to orders in this situation, but not without a certain tug of concern. Seeing the cutter reach the liquid surface below, her eyes were drawn to the nearing escort. The full spead of canvas was being reduced and she was sure Her comander's instincts were playing rapid fire to the behaviour shown here.

[Jonathan Hawks]

Mr Hawks stays looking out over the rain listening to the soft music of Rummys flute as the melody drifts soft and then loud with the shifting of the wind. He recognizes a tune and starts to hum it softly. He retrieves a small pipe from his pocket, fills it and lites the contents. taking a long draw, he smiles and continues to enjoy the tune.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As soon as the cutter touched the water::

Right, To Me, Lads!

::The QuarterMaster nearly jumped over the side of the ship as he went over and down into the Cutter...::

Come on! Haul away! get th' Jib n' Gaffsails up, smartly now!

::as the crew tumbled in behind him, Mr Warren, Nigel, Augustus, "Lucky Tuck", and Eric worked the lines, hauling the jibsail, then the gaffsail up in place...::

Right! Cast away all lines!

::As the lines were let go, Mr. Lasseter pushed the tiller over, causing the cutter to sheer off, away from the Watch Dog... Her sails flogged slightly, then pulled tight as the wind filled them. Correcting their heading, they went straight at the last place the castaways were sighted...

Mr. Lasseter looked back at the Watch Dog, waived at the Captain, Surgeon, and other officers at the rail as they sped off...::

Aye Lads! settle in now... no need ta pull up yer arms...Yet...

[Pirate Petee]

*With a third of his crews manning their respectful guns. He walks up to the fore castle with artillery bucket in hand and stands by at a swivel gun.*

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Fournier stood at the port bow rail and watched over the half mile distance that seperated. Calling for reduced sail, he focused on the cutter being dropped from the other frigate and traced its direction of travel. Extending glass for observation, he felt the slight lowering of bow to the dismissal of canvas above. Spying a minute hint of forgien objects scattering the roll of wave ahead and to port, he called for further reduction of sail, top gallants and spanker only. This would slow, but not hinder if circumstances called for other action.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I settled in near to the rear as we released the tether holding us at speed with our ship we made an about to lock our own wind and tacked back hard a port and were off. surely passing the now behind wakes of the Watch Dog we seemed to be picking up speed and three soon were easily seen on what appeared to be a gathering of planks, barrels and wreckage as it were. I said a silent prayer that we weren't to late to assist these souls,

[William Brand]

Mister Lasseter and Mister Warren were making short work of that distance between the Watch Dog and the waiting survivors. Still, it was some time before they reached the waiting castaways.

Yet even at this distance, they noticed several things right away. The first thing they noticed was the giant of a man standing upright on what could only be a significant section of a weather deck. The man was well over six feet tall, and to say he was dark would have seriously understated him. He looked like a man carved of pure ebony and naked to the waist as he was, made him seem darker still. One solitary shackle swung from his right wrist and was bound at the other hand by a great band of iron set into a fragment of wood that he was swinging all the while in order to maintain their attention.

"Slaves." Mister Lasseter whispered just loudly enough for Mister Warren to hear.

But the others weren't slaves, or at least, they probably weren't. One was a man who was burnt face and hands from the sun and the other was a woman. All of them looked care worn and half starved, though the man standing seemed to have faired the exposure with the least hurt.

[Meg Wardell]

"Lazarus! We're saved!" the young woman cried. "Look, ships!" Meg was weak but she found the strength to wave her hands above her head. "Hullo!"

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Mr Lasseter above the sound of the wind exclaimed sit still no worry's we'll be upon ya shortly stay calm. I Stood adding, God bless you children we are going to save you.

[William Brand]

"Are they prisoners?" Mister Franklin asked, looking past the Quartermaster at the large man who was swinging the chain over his head.

"Mind yer guns, lads. Steady as she goes" Mister Lasseter returned, not taking his eyes off the wreckage they were now sailing into.

Any one of these splintered pieces or rolling casks might be dashed against their hull and leave them all castaways to be rescued. He turned the tiller more than once, and the cutter crew was forced to settle in their seats further for purchase as they glided along.

[Meg Wardell]

Meg stood awaiting their rescue.

[Pirate Petee]

*lowering the trained swivel gun. He grabs his spy glass and looks at the cast aways.*

[William Brand]

When they were close enough to judge the piece of wreckage holding the castaways, they were surprised to see that it was long and wide enough to serve as a floating dock. The ship that it had belonged to must have come apart in many places to have created such a raft. The entire cutter crew might have almost gone aboard such a piece, but Mister Lasseter still circled it once to gage which side was least likely to scrape or puncture the cutter.

Mister Warren gathered and altered sail to stall the cutter as she approached.

The woman seemed almost as alert as the great chained man, but the third survivor looked listless, almost spent from days of mindless starvation.

As they circled wide, the Monsignor called out, "Who are you? Where do you come from?"

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Debris of every ships structure were floating about empty barrels the wind had already moved off a little quicker in compare to the standing lot we were creeping through, numerous trunks were afloat and more than half empty barrels seemed to just roll in place. Ashes and mast pieces, spinaker and hold doors and such were afloat and the mens eyes were looking fer more.... more people to rescue. It seemed to no avail as we came up to and took the hold of the scrap of deck they were on. The woman spoke English and was in tears, red by the sun and light of grabbing size with errgh rib bones showin. The Quartermaster calmed her down when he spoke "I am... Dorian Lasseter Quartermaster of the Watch Dog........ I asked who were they and from where they hailed?

[Meg Wardell]

"Meg. Meg Wardell," she introduced herself. "This is what's left of the Warrington Hart. We were sailing for Montserrat." She indicated her companions, "Lazarus Gage and the dark man is Ajayi Abiodun. Well at least that's what we think his name is. Can't understand the words he utters. Lazarus needs help."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Dorain I said lets get them on board. The quartermaster said is there any sickness on board your ship Meg? She looked up nodding no. He assigned Eric and Nigel to climb on so as to hand off the new passengers as Meg kneeled down to again speak to the man lying Eric and Nigel were up and over and onto the floating deck the large man in one cuff was agape and stood back giving rise to the opposite side of the deck as his side sank deeper into the blue. Eric and Nigel gently lifted and handed across the lying man I hung to the tether and Dorian and Augustus brought him over and layed him out upon one bench. Meg crossed holding Nigels hand and took Dorians upon entrance to the cutter The Quartermaster adding welcome aboard lass. Eric was pretending to converse with the native man in tongue and I stood seeing the use of which was to no avail and used my hand to usher his great size toward and onto the cutter as well and he followed the lead. Eric and Nigel jumped back on board and I let go. We were sitting right full at that point. I showed the great man my cross gave the sign of the cross and he smiled large teeth glistening. Nigel opened the water and Eric handed a lemon to each of Meg and the large man. taking a knife from her bodice Meg cut the lemon in half and rubbed it on her lips... then on the lying mans lips as well. I said I'm sorry I didn't get his name she turned, faced me, and said Lazarus as if i should never need ask again. The promptly returning her attention to the fragile man (Lazuras) lying there. We all sat down finally and as the wind picked us up. I could hear a flute......

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon watched thru aid of borrowed 'glass, and what was viewed made quick work of forgetfullness to current self malady.

"Mon Dieu..." were the only words that surfaced in reaction to the appalling condition gleaned of those wandering souls stranded at elemental whim. Backing a pace, she slyed a glance to the Captain and saw the tight set of jaw, a reflection of thoughts unvoiced to the open. Leaving the rail's border, she noticed Armand's approach from the waist and meeting him half-way, relayed preperations needed in the sick ward to accommodate potentialities in near future. On fleet foot, the Gascon returned the direction from which he had come and disapeared to the shadowed depths.

As she started return to former placement, Tempest noticed the Master at Arms just past the Captain's proximity and changed direction. The Surgeon stepped close to where Jack stood and quietly addressed him.

"Monsiegneur...I owe you an apology for last evening. It is with high regret that I should have parted company with you in such abrupt manner. It was very poor form on my part and though words far from excuse... I do wish you to Know, that there was no error of judgement on your part, no lack of propriety..."

[The Doctor]

Jack held his breath as Tempest began to speak, and slowly exhaled as she spoke her apology. He smiled as she finished, and slowly shook his head.

"No, Doctor, no apologies are needed. I quite understand the effect a suddenly roused memory can have. It is I who should apologise to you. My tongue can be carelessly direct, usually at the most inopportune moments."

His smile broadened. "It would seem my leg has progressed faster than my tact, eh?"

He nodded toward the cutter now approaching the ship with the survivors of whatever calamity befell them. "They say that the most worn planks of any vessel are those that lead to her Surgery. It would seem that ours is no exception."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She welcomed his bravado like the warmth of sunlight to a cold Autumn day; and with inner relief at Jack's acceptance, she returned his smile.

" I refuse to acknowledge you taking any fault for my lack of sense. I think the burdens of secrecy weigh the soul and when the stars fall into proper conjunct, we succumb to frailties otherwise ingnored or banished."

Tempest glanced to the splinted appendage with his comment, then cocking her head to slighted inclination replied.

"Non...Your lack of tact, as you say,...is not the beast you may view it as. You are a most delightful gent and I dare say that in times such as the current, you have managed to lighten my darkened mood. So please...do continue as you are."

//He nodded toward the cutter now approaching the ship with the survivors of whatever calamity befell them. "They say that the most worn planks of any vessel are those that lead to her Surgery. It would seem that ours is no exception." //

Green sights cut to the sea then back, there was a steeling of mind set to the unavoidable and the stoic manner returned as she spoke with soft resolve.

"It is a statement that bares more truth than you can ever know..."

Tempest moved to take her leave, but paused to face him again.

"Perhaps, sir...in a time less turbulent than now, in years of winter should we live to see such, we shall share a bottle of some refined spirit and laugh about the trivialites of the past."

She nodded, as if in a reassurance to heself, then moved back to gunnel rail.

[Jonathan Hawks]

Mr Hawks cant help hearing all the comotion going on aboard. he turns tao get a better ear full, then shrugs his shoulders knowing it doesn't concern him and goes about his business smoking his pipe once again. He is used to this kind of racket. And, he has been on the backside of it himself at times.

"Now, why did the lass stop playin I wonders"

[Pew]

::As the sun raised higher in the morning sky, the three shapes became more visable to all aboard the Watch Dog. As the crew thickened along the gunwale of the Watch Dog, we watched as Mr. Lasseter navigated through the debris in the water. As he and those aboard the cutter reached the largest section of decking left it became apparent that not all may be alive. Peering through the eyeglass, I say aloud to those nearest::

3 souls, 2 men an' a woman. Lookin' worse fer wear, one be binded wit a shackle 'round 'is wrist, one be layn on the deck and the woman be up 'n about.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Once the castaways were aboard, and all were settled, Mr. Warren, Nigel, and Eric rehoisted the sails for the return to the 'Dog... They would have to tack several times to do so, now that they were upwind from her.

The cutter gracefully sheered away from the makeshift raft and with minor difficulty, through what was left of the Warrington Hart, out to the open ocean... Mr. Lasseter kept his concentration on sailing, while steeling glances at the three waterlogged survivors, he noticed the one called Lazarus stirring...::

Aye Lass... Meg is it? Might I enquire wot 'appened ta yer ship? Attacked? Hit a shoal 'r reef? Get caught in a bad squall?

::He looked at them waiting for an answer, but before they could answer, he had to make a course adjustment...::

Prepare ta tack!

[Pew]

::Still peering through my eyeglass, I call out again::

Cutter 'as all three aboard. Makin' 'er way back ta the Dog, let the Cap'n know she be alongsides right quickly . . .