Pyrates of the West Coast

[Dorian Lasseter]

"My apologies, Mister Lasseter...But, I am afraid that your frock shall have to be sacrificed. I do hope that it holds no sentimental value."

:: Mr. Lasseter looked at the sheers in her hand, then at the shirt he wore...::

Nay, I 'ave no sentimen'l thoughts fer this... Tis as luck would 'ave it tha' I 'ave others... tho I would repalce this'n wi' a new one whence we make a port...

:: He shifted his weight on the stool...::

Aye, have at me clothes... seems me arm's gettin' a might sore...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Tempest nodded with a tight draw of jawline set. With gentle operation to inhibit further agrivation or encouragment of pain, the sleeve was split. Removal administered, she emitted a small tsk to the terrain of damage brought forth to view. The bleeding had stoped, but under the mask of dried lifeblood there gave view the livid brand of excessive contusion and swelling. She looked to his eyes with a smallish shake of head.

"It could be much worse...But, it will not be without discomfort as it mends."

The Surgeon stepped back a pace.

" I will assume you care not for me suturing this without some dulling of the senses?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Hmmm.... Tha' depends... long as wot does th' dullin' ain't tha' laudnum...

An' iffn' it is... I'll do wi'out....

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

A minute smile fleeted her expression, " As you wish..."

Turning away she returned to the open sea chest, procuring a bound bundle. With its placement upon a small table that had been moved nearer to accommodate the procedure and the water bowl, Tempest glanced to Armand.

" Un bocal...cognac...1667, s'il vous plait."

Armand left the room for her private stores kept within quarters. In the mean time, a white cloth was dipped in fresh water to begin the removal of dried crimson.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: The surgeon wiped away the dried crimson, showing the true depth of the wound, He tried not to move while she did so... ::

So, Lass, 'ow bad is it?

:: She looked into his eyes for a moment and was about to answer when Armand returned with a bottle...::

"This will dull the pain.... possibly not as well as laudnum..."

::Armand poured the liquid into a tip cup and offered it to Mr. Lasseter, who took it, nodded thanks, and drank deeply of it...::

Ahhhh... Oh, I dare say this'll do fine... tho I'll need a wee bit more...

:: he held the now empty vessel out to allow Armand to refill it, with a smile on his face...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon chuckled at the Quartermaster's statement and obligeding the refill, wondered if Dorian was aware of the backlash that the cognac could have. Noticing Tempest searching the small table's surface, Armand reached into a pocket and waved the small spectacles under her nose with a grin.

"Merci..." she said with exaspiration. The residue cleared away, the Surgeon leaned close to inspect the depth of laceration. Satisfied, she stood back as Dorian finished the content of tin cup.

" Do you wish for another, or will that surfice? I can wait if you need more time to prepare..."

Tempest already knew the answer that would come and with a knowing smile gave nod to Armand, the cup was filled in thrice. The first two were already starting to let there colors be known by hint of flush gaining foot hold. No harm would come of it, when the suturing was finished it would guarantee a very good night's rest without too much movement. The Captain had made mention during the meal earlier that he had intention of taking a later watch, which would less complicate the current situation.

Turning away to the table, a curviture of needle was selected and given a tail of filiment.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: as he drained the cup a third time, he felt the pain in his arm ease, he also realized that the smooth yet firey liquid was to blame...::

Why M'dear surgeon.... yer wastin' exceee...exceel... rather goode spirits on this Irishman... Ye complement me on yer doin' so...

::aas she fixed the needle with filiment, he nodde towards it..::

So... tha's all I need, eh? Sew up th' wee rent in m'arm... Oh goode.... I'll be still as a post sos ye c'n make straight work o' it... Such a fine hand an' handiwork ye do, Lass... Ye c'n sew me up anytime...

:: as he made this statement, she noticed he swayed with the roll of the ship...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Tempest watched with a cock of brow as the Quartermaster gave evidence to cognac clutch securing purchase. Armand was unable to supress a hint of smirk, for he knew it had only been a matter of time. Moving around to stand behind Dorian, he quipped.

" I do not think that even the notoriete de le Irlandais can tame the snarl of that vintage. "

She chortled quietly at the statement than made indication to stabilize Dorian's sway before he fell from his perch.

" You are a very flattering companion, monsieur...But, I doubt very much that you shall sing praises to that elixir's qualitiy in the morning."

Giving the laceration one more fleet of inspection, she moved closer to apply the first stitch.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I stayed up on into the night blessing drinks and eating leftover until I was faced with Hells gates for both glutiny and sloth. I went to my quarters to retire for the night.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Date / Time Line

July 2nd In The Year of Our Lord 1704

Morning / Forenoon Watch

[The Doctor]

With his leg feeling stronger every day, Jack stepped up the number of cursory inspections for misplaced or contraband arms. He wanted no more surprises of the kind we'd experienced before. Since the Van Buren affair, the most scurrilous items he had found amounted to little more than squirreled-away grog rations and gaming dice. Instead of causing a fuss by bringing his discoveries before the Quartermaster, Jack examined the contraband and replaced it in such a way that the owner would know it had been moved. Either they would dispose of the materiel or be found out trying to hide them elsewhere. No point kicking up a row over minor diversions.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Up at the crack o dawn I be in the galley, the coffee is hot and the fried pork strips crispy. I went below and only nineteen eggs were thar. So I brought em all up and though the chickens are a scurvy lot I fed them and thinks to meself (chicken dinners tonight). I whipped up the eggs and double boiled them into a fluffy pile adding these chilis long and green they be then what little greens i could chop off me herb plantings and some cheese. I started soaking me pot a beans. The leftover roast mixed with peas I soaked all night and chopped carrots, potatoes and cheese baked into a fine pocket pie were on the way iout of the ovens when the I heard the bell and I knows dawn was up and about. I was rolling the dough fer the second load of sheepherders pies when in comes the first waking crews memebrs and lickity split the poached egg pan dish was excavated. I Gave a morning prayer to those eating. Lord give us this most glorious day without worry's and bothers. Allow this fine ships crew and officers safety and harmony and allow them to see your guidance and ask for no more, by in your word we truly can expect no less as you be the light and the way. Amen

[Rummy3]

Mr St Anthony looks so well healed that he probably will be discarding that cane any day now. What a wondrous sunrise I sees on the horizon. Me own spirit seems ta be lifted on this fyne day and I pulls me flute free from me belt and begins ta play... 'Tis like looking through a looking glass, it is. I sees me mates working with the beat of the music and their spirits, too, seem to be lifted. Perhaps it's the comforting aromas that are rising from the galley combined with the ocean air and music from me own flute that has lightened their burden a bit.

[William Brand]

William had awoken early, but he had gone about most of the morning quietly. He checked and verified his destination on various charts in order to average his findings against their discrepancies.

Once he was satisfied on that point, he disassembled his pistols and cleaned each one a part at a time. The sea had its way of taking its toll on finely crafted parts. The salt got into everything from a man's soul to a spring pin.

Part way through this maintenance, Miss Smith had arrived with food fresh from the galley. He smiled when he noted the absence of a tea pot. Though he had never said anything regarding tea, he was sure she had noted by now that he had no great care for tea in any form. She had an uncanny knack for noting the likes and dislikes of others. Already he had noticed the way she had begun serving people differently and according to their respective tastes.

He made a place for the tray on the table.

"Miss Smith, please ask Mister St. Anthony and Mister Youngblood to join me at breakfast, unless either of them asleep. No need to wake them if they are. This visit is not pressing."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She smiled, and bobbed down in a half curtsy and turned for the door, to run her errands

[Meg Wardell]

Meg found her way into the galley. "Good mornin'," she greeted Diego quietly, still somewhat shy.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

With the Sick bay in quiet and restful repose and the Gascon restless to the wee hours of the morning, he finally gave in and gave up to the idea that no more sleep would be gained. Clad in the loose cotton britches he had become comfortable with, Armand stood to full height and stretched cat like. Shadow danced against far wall to the sluggish sway of the only lattern in dim lumination to the smallish confine. Three souls occupied the room besides himself, the Nubian at usual station near forward upright, the man Gage swaying in hung tarpolin embrace and the Quartermaster; who murmered in sleep induced voicings. Armand slyed a smile recalling Dorian's state of inhibitions due to "spiritual awakenings."

The cool grey of vissual intent glanced briefly to the shirt cast off from the day before and deciding that the hour was most early, left it draped over chair back. In the young Frenchman's thinking, there was no call for formality to visit the decks above, at least not until the appearance of soleil. So settling for the britches alone, Armand padded to the door and securing it quietly behind, headed for the upper deck expanses.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Looking up after Ms Smith had left with the captains faire I sees Ms. Wardell and she be addressing the likes o me I say in return Fine thank thee and yerself Ms Wardell how is it you faire since ccoming aboard tis I (bring me index finger to me temple like its going to trigger some thought) believe the first time I seen ye since we found ye? How is yer friend Mr. Lazzarus doing and the slave I have not seen him either?(now scratching me head in ponders) In walked Armand I handed him a pot of caffe and two scones and four pies on a tray. He was set back I believe that he himself was not needing to prepare mornings faire. Merci he nodded retrieved the tray turned and made retreat.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

With the Sick bay in quiet and restful repose and the Gascon restless to the wee hours of the morning, he finally gave in and gave up to the idea that no more sleep would be gained. Clad in the loose cotton britches he had become comfortable with, Armand stood to full height and stretched cat like. Shadow danced against far wall to the sluggish sway of the only lattern in dim lumination to the smallish confine. Three souls occupied the room besides himself, the Nubian at usual station near forward upright, the man Gage swaying in hung tarpolin embrace and the Quartermaster; who murmered in sleep induced voicings. Armand slyed a smile recalling Dorian's state of inhibitions due to "spiritual awakenings."

The cool grey of vissual intent glanced briefly to the shirt cast off from the day before and deciding that the hour was most early, left it draped  over chair back. In the young Frenchman's thinking, there was no call for formality to visit the decks above, at least not until the appearance of soleil. So settling for the britches alone, Armand padded to the door and securing it quietly behind, headed for the upper deck expanses.

Finding Mr. Youngblood still dead to the dawning world and Mr. St. Anthony not much more awake, still half in slumber with an occasion unintelligable mummble to her inquiries, Smith headed back for the upper decks.

Tired herself from the late night and early morning, she watched her feet intently as she walked, and not seeing the lithe figure emerging from the sick bay, she collided head on with it and started to topple to the floor.

[Meg Wardell]

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. The surgeon tells me that Lazarus will be fine with time. The slave remains silent, but seems well enough." She looked past the chaplain and noticed his efforts in the galley. "Lazarus was a cook on the Warrington Hart," she mentioned hoping that Tempest was right about him. "Is there anything I can help with?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Having delivered the thoughtfully prepared morning fare, Armand stepped back into the darkend companion way and paused to the sounding of brisk footstep echoing on approach. The Gascon made attempt to side step the Capitaine's Steward who's thoughts and focus seemed far away, intent on some issue and order for the day. Meeting with ungiving timber, the collision was unavoidable and as the impact occured and balance was thrown askew, he reached with trained reaction. Catching Miss Smith as she tottered, Armand looked down with a cast of amusement playing expression. Setting her back to steadied feet, he quipped.

"Mademoiselle, it is best not to race about the darkened corridors of a ship...accidents happen that way"

He chuckled...

[Pirate Petee]

*Rising from his hammock, he sits up and throws his legs over the side. Putting on his boots and tricorn. He pulls his pipe from his hat and packs a bowl, then heads to the galley for a tankard of coffee. He then makes his way top side and to the fore castle where he drinks his coffee and smokes his pipe, while he scans the horizon.*

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The first she noticed Armand was when her nose smacked into his chest - his bare chest she noticed as he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her from landing on her bum on the wood planking of the floor. "SORRY!" She gasped, her voice slightly strained from embarrasment. She could only imagine what he was thinking of her being so clumsy. Her ears, bright red as they were wont to be whenever she was around the Doctor's companion, were now having their blush challenged by the tip of her nose. It too was turning pink, and not from the impact of the collision. She looked up to his face, "I . . " She started to explain her inattention, but stopped short. She never looked people in the eye, but his grey eyes caught hers whether she willed it or not. She couldn't describe the look she saw in them. Bemusement seemed the best word, but why, she wasn't sure. "Je suis desole . . ." She tried to respond collected but her voice cracked, after the second word . . .

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Again I says (as I take out the second tray of pies and set about the third) a cook is Mr. Lazarus Good to hear he's better and you, You look no worse fer wear once your face stops peelin here put some a this grease on it there. (I begins to thinkin HMMMMM! I liken to have Mr. Lazarus back here cookin fer this is certainly not a job fer the weak a stomach you knows and hot damn it is hot in here. Then realizing I was starting to go off upon me own direction I mellowed me thoughts) Aye Petee good morrow sir! (Then returning me look) Ms. Wardell I would be a fool not to accept yer offers to help but I am with little left this morn would ye be willing ta find where the carpenter is playin her flute and maybees the twos a you would care to do a duet (i leans in to her) Ye can sing can't ya? Mayhaps sing a few shanty's and wham bang thank ye maam jump up paddy whack start this day events with a song ergh two! What say then?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

With notice of Miss Smith's discomfort, Armand redirected his line of sight to the timbers above.

"Mademoiselle, non. Pardon moi....non faire ses excuses. These things happen when distracted. It is nothing, cheri."

The warm smile returned as he stole a fleet of glance before returning center to the beams.