Pyrates of the West Coast

[Dorian Lasseter]

" Perhaps a visit to open air would be a nice change. I should be pleased with your company."

Indeed... I ask a moment so I might finish a particular in the ward, then I shall return, head topside together...

::He brightened with her acceptance, stood and nodded... without looking away from her, his hand found the door latch and pulled the door open, he stepped through into the passageway and slowly closed the door behind him. With a bounce in his step, he made his way to his quarters, secured the spirits in his chest, brushed down the front of his clothes and checked his hat... adjusted his sword and pistols and was satisfied... regaining the passageway he found himself back at the door to the surgery, which he lightly knocked again and slowly opened...::

Right... I's back... shall we head topside?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon stood away from the high backed chair, inwardly amused by his bearing. It had seemed whatever business had called his attention to the Ward must have been of the most minute nature. Joining him at the doorway, she offered the slightest hint of smile in his direction before stepping into the outer area.

Tempest paused there as the Quartermaster secured the door. The deep green pools casually wandered the legnth of his frame secretly, cutting away as he turned.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Offering his arm to her, he smiled as she took it.... they made their way through the passageway up onto the deck, then aft up onto the Quarterdeck...::

Ahhh.... lovely... on'y one thing missin'...

::he released her arm gently, stepped over to the edge of the holy ground above the main deck and quietly called to a crewmember below... then he turned back and regained his place next to her at the rail...::

There, all will be perfect soon enough... Now... how has the past few days been on ye? Forgive me that I han't been much for company....

::Soon one of the young lads who was a powder monkey padded up the stairs and over to Mr. Lasseter, handing him a bottle and two simple wine glasses....::

Thankee Thom... ye got th' right one...

::Turning to Tempest he held up the bottle for her inspection...::

A nice Bordeaux... 1691 vintage?

::His smile faultered when he noticed the wine glasses were rather mismatched, but then brightened again...::

Shall I pour?

::Tempest smiled, noting his faulter and guessing the reason bit her lip... ::

"Oui... yes, please..."

::He carefully set the glasses on the rail, then with no small effort released the cork from the bottle's hold, took up the finer of the two glasses and filled it half way, handed it to, then filled his own glass the same... setting the bottle on the deck, and raising his glass...::

To the safe return of our Captain... whereever he may be...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor took another deep breath before opening the hatch that led into the bildges. As soon as she had pulled it open she was assailed not only by the putrid atmosphere of the bildge, but the screams, complaints and general whining of the prisioner.

With a roll of her eyes, Tudor pushed her forcibly back to the floor as she approached her as she made her way down the five rungs of the ladder. "Shut your mouth and back down!" She yelled.

Mistress Ilex almost pouted as she looked up at Tudor from the floor, as Tudor still stood on the bottom ladder rung. It was almost as if she had expected kinder treatment from someone of the same sex. "Now, just mind yourself and don't even breath wrong or you'll rue the day ye first took breath." Tudor situated herself in a half sitting, half leaning position on one of the low beams, and started to toy with the one pistol from her belt. "I never miss y'know." A trained monkey with a pistol could do this job. she thought as she glared at the prisioner.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She raised her own and echoed Dorian's salute. A small sampling of the glass content, brought a smile to her generally stoic expression. The flavor calling ghosts of memory briefly, quickly vanquished. Looking to the barely vieled expression of desired approval on his face, she commented, " Very good and a fine choice." Tempest sampled again, swishing the rich flavored liquid momentarily before swallowing.

" There is no need for apologies. I understand that duty takes precidance and have given it not the least thought. Perhaps we can hope fore a speedy resolve to our woes. I can say that things have been rather calm in my little world here...A fact to which I am most grateful."

She sampled the dark elixer again, half closing her eyes and enjoying the freshening qualities of offshore breeze.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: After half draining the glass to his toast and hearing the appreciation of the quality of vintage, he shrugged slightly... then he slightly hung his head at her next vocalization...::

" There is no need for apologies. I understand that duty takes precidance and have given it not the least thought. Perhaps we can hope fore a speedy resolve to our woes. I can say that things have been rather calm in my little world here...A fact to which I am most grateful."

::Straightening, he took a sip from his glass... thought for a moment...::

Indeed... Duties of which I hope I 'ave been fulfillin' well enough ta th' crew's likin'... far as I c'n tell there ain't no grumblin's belowdecks... I fear I have not the tact nor ability Willaim has...

I expect Armand an' company ta be back 'round sun-up.... with goode news...

and a destination fer which ta set our sights... I fear though, that when we do find 'r quarry, ye gonna be up ta yer elbows n' then some.... if half th' crew has th' nature Ms. Smith been showin'... almost causes me ta feel sorry fer wot gets in 'r way.... almost....

::draining his glass, he stooped to pick up the bottle...::

More wine with you?

:: at her nod he refilled he glass, followed with his own, then looking about a crease wrinkled his forehead...::

A moment... I beg your pardon...

::stepping away from the rail, he headed to the helm, glanced at the binnacle and quietly gave instructions to the helmsman to adjust his heading, then spoke to Mr. Badger who quietly went forward with orders... A pleasant look on his face, the QuarterMaster made his way back to the rail...::

My Apologies... as we are not on th' hook... we're actually tackin' in circles... too much time wasted ta win th' anchor iffn' trouble found us...

:: he slightly turned and leaned against the rail, watching the Surgeon in the light of the stern lanterns... ::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She listened quietly, feeling that his statements were more a manner of release to what he had been carrying since William's dissapearnce. There was no doubt in her mind to the judgement calls the Irishman was making, and she in no way envied his current position. Tempest noticed his watching of her from where he stood at rail's support and pondered inwardly what his story was. Of course there had been details gleaned in the short time that they had shipped together. Some he had spoken, others she had skimmed by observation and the subtle revealings given unconsciencely. Sampling from the glass, she resettled her stance and tiping the glass in the Quartermaster's direction, spoke softly,

" Armand regards you with a high amount of respect. It is not something that he has ever been known to do without considerable thought. Because of that, I am sure he will do in his best to ensure proper negotiations to be struck. I think you can at least let those matters not plague you overmuch."

Tempest moved to stand closer, conversations that could wander loose on the winds were most unsettling to her.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::He smiled at her statement concerning the respect of Armand...::

Hmm.... he compliments me... I put it down ta th' ability of bein' able ta tell how well one has been tempered in the hellfire o' battle... I know he gonna do 'is best... had I any doubt, I'd a gone m'self and stumbled about... as my time in any kind o' courtly happenin's.... well...

::taking another drink so as to take up the dying conversation, he then lighted on another topic....::

Well... I know ye didn't get all th' particular supplies ta restock yer medicinals... I hope all that ye did manage ta procure will do for a time... mayhaps once things settle, another port... a friendlier one... can be dropped into an' all c'n be righted...

:: again he retreated into the glass as he watched her ponder his last statement...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

" A bit of terra under my soles would perhaps be a nice change of surround. I have nothing against the sway of decks, nor the company that I have found here, but to be able to wander without fear of cracking mine pate on low lying beam would be a pleasant experience. Perhaps such an opportunity should present itself in the nearing future."

The Surgeon turned her head slightly to the right and viewed the faux stars of lantern light along the water and sprinkling the shoreline. With darkness ruling the heavens, the view could have been any port of call in the world and briefly her thoughts turned back to the past and a specific seaside town. A few minutes passed before she refocused on the present and finishing off the glass's content, looked back to her companion. Clearing her throat softly, as if to vanquish the silence that had fallen between them, she spoke in curiosity,

" If you dont mind me being over bold, might I ask how you came to be here? I mean not to put you into any akward situation, so it is fine if you prefer not to make me knowlegable of such things. I am simply curious, for as much time that we have spent here together, I know not overmuch other than your place of origin."

Tempest reached for the bottle and refilled her glass.

[Pew]

::Noticing Armand taken aback somewhat with my lack of equine training, I chuckle, "I's raised on the sea, mate. I c'uld send a musket shot 'tween the eyes of a sparrow at 100 paces, I c'uld navigate ya through the shallows of nearly any coast for miles around, a c'uld load a cannon, fire it an reload in less time than any Royal Navy prick, but as for 'orses, uh-uh . . . "

Armand laughs and continues to the front of our small group to inform the carriage driver of our plans.::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Upon reaching the bend, the Gascon signaled for halt of percession and dismounted. Leading his mount back to the coach, he gave instructions for Nigel to join Eric to ensure no problems in Mister Pew's absence. The adjustments made, he and Pew left the company to proceed forward the small distance to the gate's pressence.

Two large rod iron lamps flanked the large gate, casting shadows of macabre manner to the ground and walls nearby. There was a heavy quaility to the air, the thick sweet scent of flora wafted over the high wall from formal garden origins. Armand's mount danced in place, ears flicking back and forth to sounds of country manner. With one final glance to his companion, the Gascon struck the large bell suspended before them and awaited a response from within.

[Dorian Lasseter]

" If you dont mind me being over bold, might I ask how you came to be here? I mean not to put you into any akward situation, so it is fine if you prefer not to make me knowlegable of such things. I am simply curious, for as much time that we have spent here together, I know not overmuch other than your place of origin."

Tempest reached for the bottle and refilled her glass.

:: He mused at her question... wondering some of the same about her and Armand... some things he had an idea of...::

Hmm.. tis not too bold o' ye ta ask...

::settling back on the rail he continued...::

I am the second son of a shipwright... we ran a small yard in Arin...

A time came fer me ta leave home, learn all aboard ships, some o' which I 'ad helped ta build... I was pressed inta 'is majesties service... learned quite alot, but hated servin' th' english... I was ah... drummed out so ta speak.... took up on a merchant 'r two... was at one time stranded on th' ivory coast, made th' mistake o' shippin' out on a blackbirder... never again... ended up in th' Carib... did some smugglin' fer a time... learnt th' sword from a handfull o' bretheren... one of 'em was a highborne lad who hated 'is legacy... from Carcassonne near th' port o Sete... and... well..... here I be.... been in many a scrape... come out a'right... mostly... got me own ghosts.... a land title by strange fashion... in Scotland... Da's gone... I think m'brother's still alive, same fer me Mum.....

::looking into his glass he stopped to drain it, then helped himself to some more wine...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She unconsciencously swirrled the wine in glass confine, a habit she had picked up from another when contemplating.

"Most interesting and I thank you for proffering, as such."

The Surgeon said no more, wondering in private musings, if she should offer anything in exchange for what he had divulged. Keeping her peace, she sipped again and watched her companion.

[William Brand]

(In the safe company of the French)

It was the linen that undid him most. Clean, cool linen. William would have said that it was a fool's wish to die in bed, but now having tasted the bilge, he thought he might not mind a quiet death in a clean bed. He was asleep almost at once, and had been for hours. While asleep, he dreamt of Jaffa with its small fishing boats. He dreamt of the wells of Jerico, the glass blowers of Na'ur, and the waterfalls of Ein Geddi. Then he was on the market streets below David's Citadel buying dates and street breads. His mind was awash with a thousand different sights, sounds and fragrances. Hawije, turmeric and frankincense filled his wandering thoughts with color and memory. He was in and out of shadows, crossing under a hundred market awnings.

Lost in another place, the dreams were a balm.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Most interesting and I thank you for proffering, as such."

::noding his head to the side...::

Yer welcome... mebee now ye understand my smatterin' o' different languages.... r' somethin'...

:: as some memories of his past floated infront of his eyes, he seemed to stare at nothing, then he blinked, shifted his weight, took a deep pull from his glass...::

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor breathed deeply as she reached the upper levels of the ship, glad for a few moments respite from the stench of the bildge. She had finally decided to answer the call of nature when her prisoner had fallen asleep. Even if she decided to wake up, Tudor had tied and gagged her hours ago . . . her endless tirade against her and the crew tiring Tudor's ears. There would be no escaping for Ilex anytime soon. Not with the knots her bounds were tied with, Tudor thought smugly to herself as she made her way to the head.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

Fournier stood in the waist watching repairs take place on board the Sloop. When finalized, she would be sent back to Martinique as a present to his new bride. Not that he cared overmuch, but, it would keep appearences up and grant him that much more favor to those in higher rings of Society; namely her father the Maquis. Keep them happy and they turn a blind eye when other events occure.

The Sloop's remanining crew were currently housed below the frigate's decks, they had the honour of being the first guest to the newly built brig. There were two cells constructed and allowed rather a more bit of ellbow space than most. Those cosidered a problem were in chains placed in one, the other contained those deemed no threat at all were loose of bindings. Four men stood watch in a fully armed capacity, and any wrong move would be a last.

After being cleaned up and injuries tended to, the Requiem's surgeon Jaque Dubois released William to the small cabin across from Fournier's off the Dinning cabin. William had taken in some food and water, then gone directly to sleep, continuing to do so to present. Dubois had checked in on the visiting captain since and had issued full report in turn to Jean-Micheale. Lamaire had been released after both wounds had been sutured shut and bandaging applied.

Fournier was satisfied...for the most part.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The evening had gone nicely, good conversation in the company of the Surgeon, the crew happy enough as they essentially sailed in circles, waiting for the deligation send ashore to return...

As the new day emerged, the QuarterMaster was alive with nervous energy. He had expected word back from Armand, or even Armand and company to be returned... Mayhaps things had not gone as smoothly as he had expected... The Don's messenger who came aboard to see proof of our 'guest', the dutchman, had shown great contempt for the man, his body language said that the Don would be very happy to have this person delivered into his hands...

With an effort he remained passive, coming on deck as the dawn broke, made agreeable noises as he greeted the morning watch...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand-Gabriel D'esnumbuc was quite pleased with himself, though albeit a small weary. Now, as St. Kitts neared her home of wooden manner, his mind played over the events that had taken place over the course of the night and into the dawn hours. One of the small swivle guns barked to gain the attention of those on current watch duty so that preperations could be made to receive the smaller craft. The Frenchman wore a secretive smile, unconsciencly caressing the leather satchel that was suspended over right shoulder, its bulk resting against stomache and held to by left hand.

Up ahead, the frigate hove to and sail was then taken in to belay motion. Voices could be heard bouncing over liquid surface to be captured by the launch's small company. The cool of grey sights focused on upper deck, expecting soon to see the Quartermaster's vissage awaiting news at rail side.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::He had paced the holy ground for two turns of the glass before his stomache protested enough for him to seek nourishment.. Turning to the wheel, he informed the Bo'sun that he would be in the galley seeking the morning meal, and to send word of any changes, especially if the St. Kitt or any other small boats came towards the ship... Satisfied that all would be well, he made his way to the galley, greeting all who he met on the way. Once there, he found only a handfull of the lads milling about, though they dispersed soon after he came into earshot. After some small talk with the cook, he had obtained hot tea, a biscuit and some jam, along with an oatmeal porrage... he took this back to the wardroom and settled in for a short respite, he ate quickly, but not quick enough, for the sound of a small cannon broke his peace, not long after one of the lads knocked on the door, informed him of the Longboat coming away...::

Very goode... have Mr. Badger hove us to... I'll be on deck shortly...

:: the lad saluted and was gone... Dorian guessed it would be a quarter of an hour before the St. Kitt was along side, so he finished his meal at a semi leasurely pace, then made his way topside...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

With achieval of the weather deck, the Gascon stretched his stiffened muscles and smiled warmly as the Quartermaster came forward. The expression that played the irishman's eyes hinted at aprehension, though was not displayed in such a manner that would be caught with casual observation. It was apperant that the officer may have had just a slight more rest during the night's passing, but not overmuch.

From behind, the sound of St.Kitts, being secured in davits could be heard playing the air.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the QuarterMaster approached the returning crew, he kept himself relaxed as much as possible. He nodded and smiled...::

Armand.... Mr. PEW.... Lads.... What news? Shall we adjourn ta th' Wardroom?

::He looked at the men, waiting for a report... hoping that the 'transaction' was well worth the wait...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand nodded, " As you wish, monsuier. There is much to be gone over and this time is as well as any to do so." He stepped closer to the Quartermaster, dropping his voice to ensure that his words would only be heard by the other officer.

" Monsuier Pew accompanied me into the Don's presence, and there for is fully aware of what has transpired. It is of my advice to you, that if any other's should attend this parlay, it should only be him. Things of such nature should not be allowed the attention of overmany ears. It has been known to cause disturbances..."

Armand resumed his former stance and calmly looked to the Quartermaster.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The QuarterMaster arched an eyebrow, slightly nodded his head...::

Armand, Mr. PEW... join me in th' ward.... You lads... finish up wi' th' St. Kitt, n' go brake yer fast...

Send word fer th' Cap'n's Steward... 'ave 'er bring refreshments...

::With that said, he stepped to the side, allowing the two lads to walk ahead of him, back to the Wardroom... as he got to the door, he checked himself...::

Ah... go an' take a seat at th' table... take comfort... I be right back...

::He headed to the Surgeon's ward, rapped on the door and called to Ms. Fitzgerald...::

Ms. Fitzgerald! Armand 'as returned.... I'd like ye ta join us in th' Wardroom...

::Hearing a muffled reply in the positive, he turned from the door and made his way back to the Wardroom where he almost ran into Ms. Smith... ::

Ah, there ye be... Whew... Ms. Smith... I take it ye done right as ta follow m'orders, keepin' an eye on 'r 'guest'.... pardon my sayin', but ye stink o' th' bildge somat fierce.... go an' relieve yerself o' them clothes... get a shirt n' slop trousers.... I'll take th' tray... off ye go now... when yer proper come ta th' ward...

:: amid a slight protest, he took the tray and headed into the ward, set it on the table, then found his seat...::

A'right... soon as Ms. Fitzgerald comes in... Make yer report, Lads....

[Pew]

::Doing my best to stand near attention with my hands clasped behind my back, I nodded in silent agreement to Armand's forthcomings . . ::