Pyrates of the West Coast

[The Doctor]

Jack smiled as Tempest went about her preliminary exanimation. "We shall work out a clever signal, good Doctor. If I appear at your door with an expensive bottle of cognac in one hand and a single red rose in the other, then my intentions have nothing to do with the ship's business. Agreed?"

He could hear Tempet's chuckle behind him as she concentrated on her examination. "I was in the lower aft hold searching for Kendra's attacker. How is the dear girl, by the way? Mending well, I should hope? Nevertheless, I was obviously clouted upon the back of the skull with a heavy, blunt instrument... a saxophone, perhaps? Never mind... and I awoke to a screaming head and wretching gut. My instincts tell me that our quarry enjoys the dark a bit too much. I intend to take that nicety away from him. And if we cannot drive him into the light, we shall bring the light to him."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Ajayi ran on through the night and into the morning where it was to be making his entrance into and through the sleeping port town of Porlamar as he ran he picked up baskets and light materials covering like hoods on carts and when he finally found a lit lantern he stacked a fine assortment of his collections and tilted the lantern onto the materials spilling just enought whale oil to set the many items to blaze. Since it was appearant he picked his location well the two joining houses were engulfed within minutes. Sparking his return to running back down to the point and out of town back to the rowboat. There it was to be found, so he dragged it off the sand and into the surf looking back noticing quite a fire had began in town and now it appeared one side of that street was fully engulfed and the towns people were rising to the folly of attempting flame ending salvation. So, he began paddleing out into the deep waters surrounding the Dog. He would turn as he rowed and would look for any sing of his being seen finally he caught the eye of Cairan who in turn announced his return .... alone.

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

"PUT ME DOWN SIMON. . .THAT's an order! *Simon took the tiny framed woman of his shoulder* "I told ya Miss Kendra, if you got out of that bunk of yourn. . .I was going to tie you down in it."

"I am all better now, I don't need to be treated like a baby!"

"All right then, how many fingers do you see?"

"Four"

"Two. . .Now back to your bunk like a brave little tailor."

"I tell ya I won't go!"

"Fine, but your just makin a big fool of yourself. What would Mr. St. Anthony say if he saw you actin this way?"

"He would say I was a very complicated woman!" *and with that she stuck her tounge out at the giant. To which he growled in fustration, and rolled his eyes. He then gently heaved her back over his shoulder and carried her back to the self proclaimed prison.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Sloop

She was as many of her kind, an aged vessel of ten years that had seen service of many capacities, though nothing that would be noted in the analogs of history. The current Master, Captain Cohen de Salmeron, could be considered a man that held many traits in common to the vessel he held by command. A hard life involving years at sea in service to many employers, under many guises of general lack luster existance...a creature for hire. The jacks that served the man, were as many of the time, common men bearing various degrees of ability that took to the sea by choice...or lack there of. The sloop could not boast that She contained any one man bound for glorious deed or acknowledgment from any noble house. Never the less...an oyster, though nothing of note by existence or appearances, could very well produce a pearl. May it be that the pearl is is not always a work of perfection, it is still a pearl; and in the Sloop's meager crown there lay a smattering of such.

The Capitaine of near frigate had been correct in assessment of the Sloop's Master Gunner. There was not over much knowledge to be shared amongst scuttle speak when such turned to the subject of Manrque. It was whispered that he was half Spaniard, Jew by faith and little else could be said beyond speculation of the quiet man except for this; his skills in service to the Black Ball Line were of the kind that Naval commanders craved. Manrque never rushed while plying his craft, never gave appearance of being riled by the odds...and very rarely suffered dissapointment in regard to judgement placed on target's sight.

Seven other's carried the mantle of respect. These could be called kindred soul's to the afore mentioned man, in so much as black powder and steel ball skill. But, that is were the simularities ended, for the Seven were not those who harkened to the calls of large artillary. The company of Dutch muskets, hand selected for distance and accuracy, were their irons of choice. They were not to be considered part of the Sloop's compliment and followed no orders except those issued by one man who stood within their fold. This motley band of brothers were avoided by the Sloop's other denizens due to the unsettling air that seemed to hang within their midst; an air that could be compared to that shared by a pack of feral dogs who would turn on one another as quick as an outsider. They had not been hired for social skill, it was by abilities of marksmanship that they earned coin.

High aloft from mast platform perches, the Seven watched with something that could be called very mild interest. Watching the waltz of pursuit like carrion crows, though in silence unlike their avian comparison. As the jar of wood on wood contacts shuddered upwards, fourteen pairs of hands ensured footing to the dissruption nonchalantly. Atop main mast, the Alpha signaled to the Beta echoing position on Mizzen and the Pack shifted formation...

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: As the QuarterMaster paced the length of the holy ground, thinking over the events that had unfolded since they gained the port they were leaving... Making contact with the local Don, presenting him with a gift of a bastard Dutch ship captain,who was still in the hold... The disappearance of Captain William, which is a kidnapping of a sort... A woman privateer/madam who gave up information on our captain, most likely leading to his abduction... the strange actions of the Monsignor, and his being absent from the ship without leave... along with the big Moor, Ajayi.... Every thought made him more and more agrivated... he had smoked half his supply of pipe tobacco in one day... not something he was prone to... ::

Honour among thieves.... indeed....

Mr. Badger! set all plain sail... make 'r course west nor'west, a quarter west...

Mr. Youngblood! glad ye could make it back aboard.... It would please me if ye would inspect th' cannon... we may 'ave need o' them shortly... iffn' th' wind be with us...

Where be Mr. St. Anthony!

We got a ship ta run down... lotsa water out there... but m'gut tells me where ta look...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Ajayi was rowing his arms off and turned and saw the Watch Dogs sails were beginnin to roll down and knew he might get left so he headed for the direction the ships sail would fill too and the ship head out in. He was standing in the ship waving to the Dog as it turned to intercept him he sat nearly exhausted and came to tears of joy having been seen....

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

( Ciaran in the lookouts nest saw the huge man waving off to the port side about 20 degrees and half a league away and yelled down below to the quarterdeck where the quartermaster was standing.) "Ahoy below! A rowboat in the water 20 degrees port looks like the native Ajayi waving to our attention quartermaster."

[Pew]

::Finding Mr. Lasseter atop the Quarterdeck, I try and up date him as to Pete Straw's findings . . ::

"Mr. Lasseter, I needs a word with ya sah."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Hearing the lookout yell, Mr. Lasseter looks to where the boat was seen...::

Hmm.... I see...

Mr. Badger, drop sail til th' wee boat c'n come longside... then resume 'r course....

Mr. PEW... come... what is it ye wish...

::Mr. PEW and the QuarterMaster walk to the sternrail and speak in low tones about 'Lady' Ilex and her dealings with the governor and Mr. Muller...::

Damn i'tall ta hell.... We still got tha' bastard Scully inna hold!

Enough o' this... time ta get rid o' th' damn Albatross...

Mr. Badger!!! lay aft!

::As the Bo'sun walked back to the QuarterMaster, Mr. Lasseter pulled his pipe from his hat, looked at it, went to put it in his mouth, stopped, gritted his teeth and shoved it back into his hat...::

Bloody.... Ah, Mr. Badger..... 'member tha' wee cove I had th' likes ta hove to in? We goin ta go there... I need ta make a delivery on th' sly... gotta rid r' sefs o' Mr. Scully... an' per'aps gain a thing r' two in th' trade.... Thems yer orders...

Mr. PEW... have Armand join us here.... mayhaps Mr. St. Anthony, iffn' 'e hasn't jumped ship too.... blast it...

[Pirate Petee]

Aye, quartermaster, tis good ta be back. It was one hella of a row ta catch da Dog. I,ll get right on makin sure each gun be in propar order an tha the powder be sifted an dry.

[Pew]

Mr. PEW... have Armand join us here.... mayhaps Mr. St. Anthony, iffn' 'e hasn't jumped ship too.... blast it...

"Aye sah."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Ajayi rowed on up to the Watch Dog after she sat down in wait. A rope ladder came over the side. Ajayi tied off the rowboat, climbed the ladder and went over the side facing Lasseter, P.E.W. and Petee. He went into his shirt vest and pulled out the monsignors note and handed it to Lasseter. It read:

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The large Moor called Ajayi came aboard, walked up to the QuarterMaster and handed him a folded piece of parchment, which he took, unfolded and read the contents....::

Hmmm... really now....

:: He looked at Ajayi.... reading the open book face for some sign... nodding and smiling he dismissed the big man...::

Thankee Ajayi....

::As the Moor left him to his thoughts, Mr. Lasseter tucked the parchement into his pocket and stared forward, through the rigging, waiting for Mr. PEW to return, hopefully with the Master at Arms and Armand in tow...::

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Having spent the better part of the evening entertaining here in the Tavern I found a place to call home for the night. I checked in the small office to where I rented a room From the bartender and went on up the stairs above the bar to my room #21 at end of the hallway. I opened the door realizing after pulling back the curtain, it was still raining outside. Exhausted, I flopped down onto the bed where I thought about Ajayi and his task.... being still dressed in my robes I slept hard...

[Pew]

::Finding Mr. St. Anthony below decks with our Ship's surgeon, I urgently tell him his presence is requested topside with Mr. Lasseter. I then ask our surgeon if she's seen Armand about. Armand suddenly appears from around the corner.

"Right, then. Mr. Lasseter be lookin' fer 'ya topside."

I hurried run out of the sick bay and turn to look for Pete Straw. I stop by the ward room and collect what charts we've found of La Maragarita amongst Ilex's papers.::

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor wandered on the deck, and came across who she was looking for. "Mr. Lasseter," She hailed the quatermaster as she approached him on the quaterdeck, waiting for other members of crew. "Sir, I just wanted to apologise about my um . . . let us say rash . . . reaction yesterday. I'm much calmer now, and if there is anything , anything I can do to help . . ." She stopped to gauge the officer's reaction.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Mr. Lasseter looked at the Captain's Steward for a long time... after all that had happened he could not remember what it was that she did that she was apologizing for... ::

Think nothin' of it, Gerl.... I may 'ave need o' ye... as it seems... stay near, soon as thems tha' I sent fer gain th quarterdeck, I have some plans ta lay out...

::He thoughtfully reached up and pulled the pipe from his hat, clenched it in his teeth and rolled his eyes skyward, to the tops of the masts and over to the land sliding away beside them...::

What ta do wi' a bastard dutchman... what ta do...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I heard a dragging noise it wasn't part of my dream and it woke me on the quick. I layed hands each on pistols in me belt under my robe the noise as I heard it clearer now got louder as it was approaching outside my door. a few sets of footsteps strugling with something sounding as though it were heavy in a bag or wrapped in blankets and they were dragging it toward my door. I raised up to a seated position quickly rolled my blankets into a body's shape took to hiding behind the washstand. It stopped I heard a door open ???? mayhaps next to mine and the feet shuffle and then drag the thing into the room and the door close. I stood with a pistol in one hand I walked to my door opened it nad looked out a cleanly dusted path on the wooden floor meant something or somebody was dragged into the room next to me. I walked out and down the hall went downstairs and couldn't find the barkeep????

The tavern was empty I turned to go back upstairs and heard the unmistakeable sound of a pistol fire I quickly took off my belt tied one end to the staircase side of the railing, blew out the hall candle and held the other end and hid behind (around) the hidden corner. I heard a door open and feet coming toward the staircase and down it. At the time I felt appropriate I pulled my belt tight and watch two lugs trip, falling and slide across the floor where I stood in attack mode with each o me pistols trained on them. I cleared my throat and they looked back terrified "caught in the act" they were and I just stood there till the front door opened and a constiple just happen to walk in. I told the story they were arrested and the constiple when he returned and I went to see what it was that was dragged up the stairs and down the hall into the adjoining room of mine. We opened the door and found nothing in the room next to me. I went into my room and there on the floor was the barkeep shot in the head and a pistol lying there on the floor. Nice and tidy was my frame up but stupid were the artists.... I stayed awake till dawn went for a walk down to the docks in the morning and decided to ask where the jail was and went over to ask the constiple what the prisoners had said was their reason for killing the barkeep and trying to frame me. and not only was the constiple not there but the two arrested during the night weren't behind bars! I needed to get out of this port and pronto.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

What ta do wi' a bastard dutchman... what ta do...

"I have a few ideas sir . . ." She growled murderously, a violent glint in her eye yet again, only this time, it was a slow burning fire instead of an inferno.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand watched after Mister Pew until his form dissipated into the shadows. Glancing to his sister, the Frenchman mused as to what the summons could possibly signify. Observing that he was not in demand to the current situtation involving the Master at Arm's injury, Armand told his sister he would return shortly and made way to the upper region of the Watch Dog's confine.

In his absence from the weather deck, Armand noted that the winds had calmed, bringing the surrounding temperatures to a more pleasing level. A quick survey revealed the Quartermaster had returned to former placement upon the quarter deck, and that the Captain's Steward was in his company. The Gascon kept his place in the waist briefly while watching their interacting, observing that Tudor was still enshrouded in the coat he had loaned her; that the coat's legnth nearly brushed the planks below her feet due to their heigth difference.

Resetting his expression to hide the amusement regarding Tudor and her over-sized apperal, Armand approached the duo. Gaining their proximity, he stood in a manner of parade rest and waited for Dorian to ackowledge his presence. Tudor's eyes flicked to where he was then quickly away, the Gascon acted as if he did not notice. His outward vissage being one that reflected years of steeled nuetrality in proceedings of military forum.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter briefely smiled at Ms. Smith, knowing she'd like to use the dutchman for target practice...::

Nay Gerl... I has plans... profitable plans fer Mr. Sulky...

::As he was speaking with the Captain's Steward, the form of Armand, the Surgeon's Steward approached, stopping a short distance away...::

Armand, come closer...

::Armand did as requested and gently leaned against the 'wale and looked at Ms. Smith, a brief smile on his face...::

I 'ave a plan fer riddin' 'rselves o' tha' bastard in our hold.... very much wot we was gonna do afore... And... as ye be much th' diplomatic type... and have a'ready been ta th' Don's estate... I would like ta send ye as 'r emmesary...

I wish ta trade Mr. Sulky ta th' Don fer a letter o' Marque... and wote'er else ye think we might be able ta get from 'em.... I'll 'ave some papers drawn up sayin' such... I'll 'ave ye pick some crew ta have along, such as Mr. St. Anthony, keep th' bastard in line til th' trade can be finished...

What say you?

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Armand had opened his mouth the respond, but before a single syllable could be sounded, Tudor's voice spoke. "Permission to go along sir . . . I could keep the, um, good captain in line, most easily . . ." That frightening glint was still in her grey eyes. She quickly glanced at Armand to see what his response to the Quartermsater's request would be, and how he would take to having her along.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Training kept his emotions in check as he quietly shut his mouth, his train of vision forward as Tudor delivered her view. When she finished, the Gascon said one word only in response to her verbose,

"Non. "

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Sheer fury and rage crossed Tudor's pert face. "Non?" She questioned angrily. "What do you mean, 'non'?" She said inflected word with a sneer. "Listen you! Who are you to tell me NON! There's no way short of tying me up in the hold that would keep me from going along on this trip! If your worried about diplomacy, I assure you that I have just as much traning in politics and the art of diplomacy as you do!" Her face was red from the yelling. "I'll tell you where to stick your 'non'." She said, a touch less loudly but with an equal venom.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

His manner remained ramrod stiff as Tudor unleashed her fury and when she had finished, Armand looked to the Quartermaster and quietly said, "Pardon..."

Reaching with swift intent, the Gascon laid iron grip just above Tudor's right elbow and guided her to the stern rail. Placing her with back againt rail, Armand looked down to her face and any trace of easy going nature was vanquished from his expression to be replaced with his origin's known mannerisim. Again, he repeated the single word...."Non."