Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand smiled warmly in response and was inwardly amused by her flighty nature. Squatting down, his brow knit to the spill of ink on her hand and reaching forward, grasped it lightly.

"You should be more careful, mademoiselle...Please allow me to aid you."

He noted the uncertain look in her eyes, but using the tail of the calico shirt, the Frenchman patiently dabbed the indigo wet away then leaned backward on haunches.

" You see...good as was before, oui? May I join you for a small time. The weather is very pleasing, but is lacking just the right company to make the day perfect."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"um . . . alright." She said, as he settled down next to her, still clasping her hand. She looked down to where he held her hand, and bit her lip nervously. He noticed her discomfort and let go quickly. "Pardon mademoiselle." He said quietly.

"No . . .it's alright, or um, I mean . . . i don't mind . . ." She looked up at him shyly. She nervoulsy cleared her throat and changed the subject. "How was your trip ashore?"

Soon, she was entranced listening to his soft voice recount the events of the misson on the island.

[The Doctor]

"Ah! Rummy! Mr. Hawks!" Jack's smile was broad and his eyes bright with curiousity. "How goes it with the Claymore for our mountainous new crewmember?"

[Jonathan Hawks]

"Well, well, Lassie, It not be difficult a find ya board this vessel I says. Good thing too. I been meaning ta see i'fn ya can carve me some molds fer some sand castings sos I can make yer hinges."

"Ah, Mr Hawks! Yer timing couldn't have been more perfect. Tell me, how would these do ye?" I reaches beneath the workbench and pulls the carvings I just this morning had finished. "...And will ye take a look at me handtools. I think that I ned something special to sharpen me favorite one in particular. :

"Ahh, Rummy....yas needs some fixin o yer tools. They be a mite dull. Give em ta me ana I will straighten the one out and sharpin the others fer ya. Also, those molds wil be perfect. I will take em back wit me ana place sand in em fer the hot metal. Ya should ave yer hinged fer the chest in no tyme. Now, would ya like regular black itron or brass?"

Mr Hawks sees Mr Anthony over to the side looking like he was waiting to get into the conversation. He finally decides to ask Mr Hawks about his claymore.

"Well, Mr Anthony, I aves yer weapon finished. It just be coolin down yet. As soon as it is right, I be makin sure to deliver it right away. I think ya will be mite pleased wit it."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr Badger called all the officers and crew to stand and wait in the waist of the ship, awaiting the QuarterMaster... Once he had things in order, and the crew settled, he stepped to the taffrail, placed both hands on it, looking down at the assembled crew...::

A'right all ye Lads n' Lasses... Seems we got some time 'ere in this port... we gonna get reprovissioned, turn th' goods we got into specie, and replace other supplies n' equipment we can...

::Their were murmurs throughout the waist, some folks seeming happy, others not, expecting that they'd be stuck aboard with all the work....::

Pipe down!!! Not ta worry... all will get some time ashore.... just not all at once.... I gonna need ta keep folks aboard at all times... We ain't in a hostile port, but we ain't in a perfectly friendly one either...

Keep tha' in mind...

Now.... I can't be lettin' ye go ashore empty 'anded... but we got not alot o' coin aboard... yet... What we do 'ave... yer all gonna get a share of..... So, each o' ye, in turn gotta come up 'ere ta th' helm ta get yer share o' coin... e'ery third person gets shoreleave now, on th' morrow ye be back, next third goes, an' so forth... Have a care! Keep a weather eye on th' ship... Iffn' ye see th' flag raised ta get yerse'f back 'ere... ye best not be late!

Now... Get yerse'fs all lined up... get this done....

::The crew witha great "Huzzah!" ranges about and gets a line started... each sailor comes up, states his or her name and recieves ten pieces of eight, or the equivalent in other coin... after an hour and a half, all is counted out, and the cutter, piloted by Mr. Warren is soon to be off with the crew headed for leave, and a small crew to get supplies...::

[Pew]

::Swimming back to the Watch Dog, I see the cutter return from Margarita Island. Reaching the ship I climb up the rigging left overboard from when the ships carpenter was repairing the starboard side of the Watch Dog where the Danzig Trader was lashed alongside. As I climb over the gunwale I see Nigel standing in with the crew and nudge him quietly.::

"Wot's goings on?", as I ask and drip profusely on the deck.

"Mr. Lasseter be outfittin' ta crew with theer own coin left over from the Dutchie for whenst we go abouts inna port 'ere."

::With a loud "Huzzah!!" the crew cheers. I dry off what I can, and go abouts seeing Mr. Lasseter for our coinage. "'ave a good day in port lad" Mr. Lasseter wishes me, but looks at me with a eye cocked in wondrance to my profuse amount of water I am leaving upon the deck.::

::I go below to gather what niceties I can scrounge up. I head back topside, and see Mr. Warren gathering some crew as well as some small barrels for re-supply. I join the crew in loading up the cutter and prepare to make way to Margarita.::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As the first boatload of liberty folk made passage to shore and celebrations of private and not so private manner, a smaller craft launched and pulled steadfast to where the frigate rode anchor. From above, semi shrouded by webs of ratline and rigging, a voice called to those below.

" On deck, there!"

The Quartermaster, still holding court on the holy ground, paused in conversation and shielding eyes to sun's glare, called back."

" Aye Ciaran! Wot news?"

" There is a small local launch coming this way. It not be a fisher and already passed all the other vessels in the harbour. So's must be coming here."

Dorian's brow furrowed in brief as he moved to the side rail for a better view of possible visitor. Extending 'glass, he inspected the launch closer and what it contained. The men controling launch movement were clothed in simple adornments, but...there was one amonst their number that was obviously of higher class. Dropping the glass from sight, the Quartermaster told a nearby hand to send word for the Captain.

Overhearing the announcement from above, Armand glanced to where Dorian stood then back to Miss Smith.

"Pardon mademoiselle, I may be needed."

Regaining his feet he offered a smile of apology, " Merci beaucoupe Mademoiselle Smith, you have honoured me greatly by allowing me your pleasent company. I look forward to another chance to do so again...At your discretion, of course."

Bowing to her, the Gascon made way to join the Quartermaster.

[The Doctor]

Jack hung back from the rest of the crew, smiling as the People grinned and cheered at the QuarterMaster's news of coin and liberty. But at the sound of Ciaran's alarm, he quickly made his way to the quarterdeck and Mr. Lasseter's side. The mood of the ship changed sharply as the crew crowded to the gunwale to catch a glimpse of the approaching launch. More than a few of them looked back to the quarterdeck with hardened eyes, ready to take any required action against the possible interlopers.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Hmmmm.... relax... no need ta act too hostile... th' cannons be mostly at th' ready... An' droppin' some cold shot inta the botton o' their wee boat'll be easy enough....

Lessee wot th' Cap'n wants ta do... soon as 'e gets topside...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Her mind was still in other places, but she had heard the Quatermaster's call for the captain, and she quickly sent the deck hand he had ordered to wake the captain about his buisness and quickly made her way automatically to the captain's cabin. She knocked rapidly on the door. "Captain? You're needed above." She called to wake him.

[William Brand]

William awoke with an effort. He had been lost in dreams as pleasant as any he had ever known, and the waking world had robbed him of great rewards and peace. Still, he removed himself from his warm bed and bathed his face in cold water. He donned his coat and hat and took up the Mortuary sword, which he now called his "Lasseter" for the man who had gifted it to him. He liked the way the name sounded on the sword. Lasseter, like laceration, had a cutting sound to it, and it went well with the blade.

Once he had achieved the quarterdeck, he found many members of the crew gathered amidships to watch the approach of a small boat. Mister Youngblood was there, reminding the men not to crowd the gundeck with so much gawking. He shooed them away from the rail and bid the gun watch stand at attention, the whole while packing a pipe.

Mister Lasseter was at the quarterdeck and Mister Badger was borrowing his spyglass to watch the small boat's approach.

"Good morning, Gentlemen. What news?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

::the QuarterMaster turned slightly to the Captain, nodded...::

Mornin' Cap'n.... seems we may 'ave a visitor... mayhaps from th' Don Armand n' I went fer ta see yesterday...

[Pew]

::As our cutter "Patricia"makes it way past the Boca del Rio, I can sense and smell the stories of a thousand sailors.

Wild boar being roasted on boucans wafts across the inlet.

Passing a bark flying the Spanish ensign, I see three men rasing a small net filled with mullet A wave returned with a tip of my tricornmakes me feel more at ease especially as we pass by a 46 gun Spanish man-of-war. "Corazon del Mar" reads across her stern. Her musketeers look down from their quarterdeck, eyeing our cutter suspiciously as we skirt in to the harbor. I slowly pull my tricorn back down, uneasily.

The docks are alive with traders, merchants, Spanish, French, and many other nationalities, none of whom know who may be at war with whom at the present. A strange feeling lay about the isle, but 'tis not possible to name it.

The Patricia passes by ships of all sizes and shapes. As we near the landing, Mr. Warren manuevers the cutterin and around the dozens of small fishing vessels. Various waves and the tipping of hats come from nearly each of the vessels, yet our reception from the military vessels was not nearly as warm. We watch as fathers and sons mend their fishing nets getting ready for the new tide . . .

Following along the wharf, you can see barrels of salt pork and fresh water being hoisted into the holds of massive ships heading for the open sea. "No doubt slavers heading back east", says Eric Franklin one of our able seaman aboard the Watch Dog and one of the cutters crew. He and I continue to watch as pigs and cattle from the island are being led aboard the various ships, most are which are giving the handlers quite a difficult time. "Like lambs to slaughter, eh Pew?, we both chuckle to try and alleviate some of the tension heading into port. "Animals on one coast, only to head to ano'er to reload."

We pull alongside the dock and Mr. Franklin ties off the cutter. Mr. Franklin and I help unload what small barrels, baskets, and emptycrates we have so as the restock our much needed supplies aboard ship. Mr. Warrens tells us he has duty over the Patricia, and that we can fetch ourselves a fresh tankard of rum as we wait for the provisions to be refilled.

Sailors and merchants are not the only people lining the wharf. Merchant women of a different sort are also peddling their wares. The steady stream of wenches leaning out of hacienda porticos continues to ttry and lead us astray. Mr. Franklin and I, dressed in our finest wares, continue to draw attention from the regiluars in their bungalows.

"'ows about a nice lady for thee arms lads", says one of these fine maidens.

"Lass, ye may be a fine lookie-loo, but many sailors 'ere seems to be knowin yer name quite well", retorts Mr. Franklin, a large man built like a brawler and covered in tattoos, lets his tactless side through quite evidently.

"We're on 'r way to tha pub me lady", I throw in to try and regain some assemblance of dignity to the coversation . .

Walking along "Callalateral", Frankling and I find the pub. "Las Aves" is scrawled into a plank nailed by the door. Getting past the smell of 60 odd privateers, sailors, merchants and pub wenches is a great feat in and of itself, especially as the sun sets high in the midday.::

[William Brand]

::the QuarterMaster turned slightly to the Captain, nodded...::

Mornin' Cap'n.... seems we may 'ave a visitor... mayhaps from th' Don Armand n' I went fer ta see yesterday...

"Very good, Mister Lasseter."

William turned to his steward. "Miss Smith, please prepare a bottle and light fare for our guests and see to the ward room. The place could use some airing."

William took out his own spyglass and watched the small vessel as it made its way over the port waters. "Mister Lasseter. Prepare to receive our guests. I should like you, Mister St. Anthony and Mister Badger to join us in the ward room when they arrive."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

'Galley first' the Steward muttured to herself as she saunted from the captain's side, plotting her course of action to see to the Captain's requestes in the most efficient matter. Three years studying strategy and I put it to use as a serving wench she thought bitterly to herself for a moment, but then silently reprimanded herself. There was a reason she was on this ship and not off strategising against armies, and she was glad for her position.

Soon the Ward room was aired out and food and drink were ready, looking very appetising, and Tudor returned to the captain for any follow up orders.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter nodded to the Captain again... ::

Aye cap'n..... ah... beggin' yer pardon... If this visitor be from th' Don... Would it not be wise ta 'ave Armand n' Tempest about? Fer... ah... courtly wordin's n' such?

::He shrugged with a look of question, then turned to the ships waist...::

A'right Lads!! Those o' ye tha' aren't on watch, make yerse'f scarce! Th' rest o' ye... try ta look yer best, we gonna 'ave some high borne comp'ny aboard!

::As the men scurried about, making ready for the guests, he smiled::

[William Brand]

"Aye, Mister Lasseter. Please extend my invitations to both."

William stood awhile with his spyglass behind his back tapping one foot on the deck as he drifted into strategies both small and large. He was in his thoughts when Miss Smith returned to make further inquires. He was a long time in responding.

"Thank you, Miss Smith. You may join us at table if you wish. Finery and pistols if you please."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor bobbed in a quick curtsy and then spun around and fairly skipped below decks again, red petticoat swishing around her ankles. She had to freshen up a bit, maybe try to make her hair look presentable. She didn't have any nicer clothes on board, but she assumed anyone with half a brain would accept that as a sailor she wasn't a rich woman. The best part of it all was the fact she was allowed pistols during meetings like this. She still wished the captain would have let her shoot Scully when she had the chance . . .

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye....

::the QuarterMaster turned to head below and almost ran into Armand who was standing not a swords length away...::

Ah Hmm... I s'pose ye heard th' Cap'n... Come, let us go an' get th' Surgeon.... get you an' her inta yer finery fer some diplomatic manuverin's...

:: he winked at Armand as he extended his arm allowing him to head below ahead of the quartermaster... as they approached the door to the sick ward, they heard murmurings from a masculine voice inside. upon opening the door they found Mr. Gage in conversation with the Surgeon, seeming quite coherent...::

Goode day Ms. Fitzgerald, Mr. Gage... tis goode ta see ye be healin' well... Sadly, I'll be takin' 'r surgeon from yer presence fer a time... As she been invited ta dine wi' th' Cap'n an' a guest from shore....

::As he said this last bit he raised his eyebrows at her ...::

[William Brand]

"My apologies, Armand. My mind was elsewhere. I should, of course, need you there during the discussion."

He watched them go below and returned to his gathering thoughts. There was much to do, and William found that he enjoyed the tension of command. There was a comfort in restless details and the order derived from chaos.

He paced about the quarterdeck, noticing with a smile that Mister Youngblood did the same. Only Petee remained stationary. His pipe did all the pacing.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Tempest looked from her charge to Dorian and gave a nod of negation.

"Please inform Capitaine Brand that I am not at liesure to attend."

Centering on Armand, " Your adornments of maroon and gold are at ready in my cabin. Being that you were one to deliver and make initial contact it is only proper protocol that you should be in attendance."

[The Doctor]

Jack acknowledged the Captain's request and went below for a more suitable shift of clothes. As he rummaged through his sea chest, he ran across his blue greatcoat, and smiled to himself as he ran his fingers across the brass buttons and showy braidwork. "Not today, old friend. But if we should encounter Monsieur Fournier again, I'll be calling on you", he thought to himself.

Once attired more smartly and appropriately armed, he made his way to the Ward room. Official meals aboard this ship were never dull, and his curiousity outstripped his appetite as to what this one would bring...

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: looking slightly crestfallen, the quartermaster nodded...::

Aye... Mr Gage's health is of more import... And Armand is most capable, so I am told... Right then... when all's said n' done...

:: he turned to Admand.::

Get yerse'f all gussied up, then.... see ye topside...

::looking back to the Surgeon, a slight smile playing on his lips...::

Pity... such a fine gown to be locked up...

Ah... when does ye wish ta head ashore...? I know ye needs some perticul'r supplies....

[Pew]

::Franklin and I walk up to the proprietor, or at least the only man behind the bar. Swarthy, unkempt, and in his late 50's, he looks as if this wasn't his first calling in life.

"Hola, como estas?" he states frantically.

Before we can answer he has moved on to another customer.

A group of spaniards at a back table begin to argue until a man looking like a senior officer walks to them and quiets the table. He waves his arms in a circular motion and then points at one of the ships outside.

Franklin and I slam our mugs on the bar and the keep pulls a cork from a very undistinct bottle and pours. Luckily for us it smells somewhat like rum. We toss a coin on the bar and make our way about the room. Franklin runs into some mates he knew on a previous voyage and I tell him I'll meet up with him in a few minutes.

I hear chatter in a thousand languages and nearly the same number of dialects. Each table discussing something more important than the next. Some groups were able to get stale bread and others some various meat platters. Seeing the appearance and smells eminating from those tables, I long for the Monsignor's lamb and biscuits.

Walking to the far side of the bar, I peer out the window and notice a small vessel heading for the Watch Dog. "Interesting", I say to myself.

I make my way around the room tipping my hat to various sailors and merchants, finally settling in behind the table of Spaniards.::

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor was heading topside, passing the Surgical ward. She pasued in her path to fidgit with her hair one more time.