Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor quickly bobbed in a half curtsie and silently went off to her quaters. As soon as the door was closed she stripped off the red petticoat and tossed it into the corner to wait until she had time to wash it of the stench. She opened up the small crate she kept her clothes in and pulled out a pair of slops and fresh shirt and quickly donned them. Having cast her calf boots aside, she decided to not bother putting them back on, instead continuing barefoot. Her last step before entering the ward room was to pull half of her hair back to keep it out of her way as she served the meeting. That of course didn't last. As she entered the ward room, avoiding eye contact with all, dutifully going about her business of procurring refreshment for the crew involved, a rebellious curl slipped out of it's band and trailed it's way alongside her face. She simply ignored it, and silently went about delivering the food and beverage to everyone as the meeting began.

[William Brand]

Muller was among the few lucky enough, and unlucky enough, to have survived the taking of this homeward bound vessel. He was now among those who were pocketed in the holds awaiting the decisions of their captors. He hoped against hope that William would die from his recent exposure and abuse in the bilge before he could convey any word on the matter as it touched himself. He also hoped that Fournier would not recognize him from the Watch Dog.

It was a hope without much hope.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand took placement at the chair immediately to the right of where the Quartermaster would sit at the head of table. Placing the leather satchel down on worn wooden surface he then removed the velvet top coat and remained standing. The Frenchman was about to say something to Mister Pew, who had taken the chair directly across from his own, when the door opened. Fully expecting the appearance of his sister, the grey sights turned to receiver her and a warm smile crossed his aquiline features. The smile vanquished and the eyes cut away to the stern window with the realization that it was the Capitaine's Steward and not the Surgeon, that was now within the surround.

Miss Smith made her rounds of duty with steadfast and somewhat distant mannerisim. Her verbose was direct and proper, pertaining only to the services that she was now rendering. Momentarily, a hint of Southern nature rose within the Gascon and was quickly repressed. A tincture of temper flare smoldered within the grey pools as he glanced to Mister Pew then the satchel.

The sound of door opening again and familiar vocal tone played to his ears, as the Surgeon greeted those present then arrived at his side. They conversed quietly in native tongue, then Armand pulled asided the chair next to his to offer her seating. The quiet conversation resumed as they awaited Mister Lasseter's announcement for proceedings to begin.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

The salt tinged breeze stirred the heavy brocade curtains boardering stern glass. Fournier relaxed at mohagany legnth's end, quietly partaking of dark Java brew. Near to his left, sat another fine bone cup awaiting its usage as Jean-Micheale closed his eyes to enjoy the muffled sound of Frigate song and distant cry of sea avian. Dubois had reported ealier at his request of their guest's progress. Pleased with what was said, the Capitaine had extended an invitaion to William to join him for breakfest. requests had been made to the Galley to make proper accommodation and it was only a matter of time before the mohagany surface was covered with the fare of grand variation.

The Frenchman sampled again from dark brew and waited patiently his companion to join.

[William Brand]

Le Requiem

The salt tinged breeze stirred the heavy brocade curtains boardering stern glass. Fournier relaxed at mohagany legnth's end, quietly partaking of dark Java brew. Near to his left, sat another fine bone cup awaiting its usage as Jean-Micheale closed his eyes to enjoy the muffled sound of Frigate song and distant cry of sea avian. Dubois had reported ealier at his request of their guest's progress. Pleased with what was said, the Capitaine had extended an invitaion to William to join him for breakfest. requests had been made to the Galley to make proper accommodation and it was only a matter of time before the mohagany surface was covered with the fare of grand variation.

The Frenchman sampled again from dark brew and waited patiently his companion to join.

William arrived with the assistance of a young subordinate. He had regained the use of his legs after their long bloodless-bound slumber in the bilge, but his back was a mess of aches and knots. Pulled and bruised muscles complained all the way to the table, but William was carried on by the compass in his stomach that screamed "Food Ahead!"

He smiled warmly at Fournier. "A fine and pleasant morning, Capitaine. My many thanks for clean and private accommodations. I had thought to dine with the rats all the way across the Atlantic. And perhaps...be dined upon."

The young man helped him carefully into the sturdy and elegant chair. William's attention was already drawn to the finery of the table and the expectation of far better food than he had known for a time.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Once all who were invited to the Ward made their presence known, and gained comfort in the chairs and the refreshments, Dorian leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his hands...::

Right then... Armand... preytell the happenin's ashore... leave out nothing...

::He looked around at all those present, noted the weariness on their faces, but this could not wait... He looked Armand in the eye, nodded slightly as if giving a sign to start...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

Without a word spoken, Fournier's valet dissapeared from the Great cabin to inform the Galley of William's arrival. Jean-Micheale stood as his guest was helped to seating and filled the china emptiness.

" Capitaine, you are looking far better than when you first arrived here. I trust you are pleased with your quarters. " He paused to offer a smile before resuming his seat. The young subordinate stepped quietly behind William's chair and remained there at attention. The Great cabin's door opened, and from it issued forth the Valet and several men in tow bearing silver wrought platters of pungent fare.

" Tell me, Capitaine...This is an unexpected chance of meeting. Are you feeling well enough to relate to me how it is that you ended up in such company? Or should that wait for another time? I may assume you have questions yourself that I will be happy to answer."

Fournier drained his cup's content then refilled it's want.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

:: Once all who were invited to the Ward made their presence known, and gained comfort in the chairs and the refreshments, Dorian leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his hands...::

Right then... Armand... preytell the happenin's ashore... leave out nothing...

::He looked around at all those present, noted the weariness on their faces, but this could not wait... He looked Armand in the eye, nodded slightly as if giving a sign to start...::

The Gascon gathered his thoughts briefly, then removed documents from the leather satchel. Handing them over to the Qjuartermaster, he began,

" The situation was very touchy in its beginnings. The Don was not appreciative that his invitaion had gone without reckoning. Proper and sincere apologies were made and I informed him that we still had great desire in which to discuss negotiations of the Dutchman in question. Wine was offered and the Don made light conversation for about an hour's time before returning to the true subject matter. At that time, the Don asked if the Dutchman were ashore and I indicated that he was."

The Gascon paused to take a drink and glance to Mister Pew.

" With that said, the Don made the propositions that are outlined and contained within those documents you now hold. Those are the result of four hours negotiation and your desires have been met. I find that the outcome is of much more than I had anticipated and agreed to the terms. What you hold contains the promise of transaction and signature of the Don, his brother, myself and Monsuier Pew who was witness."

Armand watched Dorian in silence for a moment, then continued.

" What is to be recieved is thus in brief. A sum of monies of no small amount; any needed repairs to the ship; fresh supplies and stores; a deed to land on a near isle that has a small hacienda and livestock; servents that oversee that land...and a Letter of Marque and Reprisal in your name. Though it not there amongst that documentation, as we speak. The Don is a very close associate of the Governor here and says that the marque should be had within two days."

[William Brand]

Le Requiem

Without a word spoken, Fournier's valet dissapeared from the Great cabin to inform the Galley of William's arrival. Jean-Micheale stood as his guest was helped to seating and filled the china emptiness.

" Capitaine, you are looking far better than when you first arrived here. I trust you are pleased with your quarters. " He paused to offer a smile before resuming his seat. The young subordinate stepped quietly behind William's chair and remained there at attention. The Great cabin's door opened, and from it issued forth the Valet and several men in tow bearing silver wrought platters of pungent fare.

" Tell me, Capitaine...This is an unexpected chance of meeting. Are you feeling well enough to relate to me how it is that you ended up in such company? Or should that wait for another time? I may assume you have questions yourself that I will be happy to answer."

Fournier drained his cup's content then refilled it's want.

William smiled and said nothing for awhile. Then he began.

"I was in the ward room of the Watch Dog reviewing those charts that pertain to the region, when Mister Augustus Muller requested an audience. He came into the room at my bidding while I crossed to the back of the table. In the short time it took to turn and face him again, he already had a pistol on me."

William sipped a little, careful not to reopen his damaged lip.

"I understood more in that moment than I would have thought possible. I realized then that Mister Muller had been in league with the deceased Van Buren since the begining. This was soon confirmed by Muller, who stated that they had come aboard the Watch Dog for the purpose of revenging Van Buren's father, an accidental victim of the Hamer Hoen. I let him speak his peace uninterrupted in an effort to learn what I could. Once I was satisfied that he had said all that he wished to of his rehearsed curses, I told him what he could do with his self satisfied remarks and he grew angry."

Fournier stepped into the story with a question. "Who is Van Buren and what happened to the father?"

William paused. "In truth, I don't know. Van Buren came aboard the ship as a woman in the guise of a man. I never learned much of her, since Muller was not a man of details and Van Buren's treachery was discovered only after she was dead. As for her father, I also...could not say. He might have died in the initial capture of the Hamer Hoen, but very few did. Some were left in the West Indies, while the rest came in two parts aboard the Hamer Hoen and the Kingfisher. He may have died with Wells and Avery when the British took the Kingfisher. If he was among those we put ashore then I cannot say what became of him. Van Buren may have come seeking revenge for a father not yet in need of avenging. I cannot be sure that he is dead. If I ever see the Hamer Hoen again I shall look for his name among the logs, but it is just as likely that I shall see him again before my ship."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the Gascon spoke, the QuarterMaster looked through the papers handed to him, noting the particulars as Armand explained each in turn... a smile tugged at his mouth as he became even more impressed with the frenchman's ability to get the better part of a trade... finally when Armand had finished, he looked up...::

Excellent... indeed.... but no word of any knowledge pertainin' ta Cap'n Brande? Hmmm?

::With a slight shrug Armand wet his lips...::

Non... my apologies... I found nothing...

::Slowly Mr. Lasseter nodded his head...::

Very well... I shall send word to th' Don that we will be back in three days to collect, as we have pressing business to deal with.... You are all sworn ta secrecy... not a word ta else onboard... m'gut tells me where we gonna look fer th' Cap'n...

Off ye go... ah... Dismised....

::as the gathered few stood and made way to the door, Dorian, laid a hand on Armand's shoulder...::

A word, Lad...

::nodding, Armand held back as the room emptied... when they were alone, the QuarterMaster spoke softly...::

I thank you... you have done this ship a service, one I hav'nt an idea how ta repay... Yet there is still more to be done... I'll put to paper our time for returnin' an' have it delivered ta shore... then we be off... hopefully in time ta find th' Cap'n b'fore he be delivered to th' noose... If my guts are right...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

Jean-Micheale listened carefully to what was offered, keeping silent for the most part as William relayed. Gaining the eye of his valet, the Capitaine requested the documentation containing the names of all survivors from the Sloop. Plucking a grape from a near plater, Jean-Micheale returned his focus to William, rolling the plump fruit betwixt fore finger and thumb.

" You are a very popular man, mon ami. It seems that luck has served you well, but you must take more care in the future."

Leaning into the high back of chairs support, the Frenchman considered for a moment. The Valet returned with the requested log then stepped back to the stern windows. Fournier glanced over the entry, then placing the book down on table corner, spun it to William's view.

" It appears that your antagonist was unfortunate enough to survive." A cold smile rose to his expression. " So Capitaine...Of what service may I provide to you now."

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: the QuarterMaster returned to the table once all had left his presence, he sat and taking parchment, quill and ink, began to scribe his thanks to the Don, and the particulars of their return for the remaining items of their 'trade' agreement... Once finished to his satisfaction, he folded and sealed the letter, signed the outside with the Don's name, etc, and took it topside. There in the waist he found Mr. Brisbane...::

Aye Lad, got a quick errand fer ye an' one other lad... I need ye ta take this ta shore... find th' harbormaster's grandson, Estaban Jimenez be his name, I believe... ask Armand fer certain.... take th' dingy, I expect he back in two turns o' th' glass... now off with ye!

::Nigel smiled a big smile, grabbed one of his mates and was off... As the dingy was put over the side, Dorian sigh a long sigh, then headed up to the Quarterdeck, gave the Bo'sun orders to depart company soon as the two in the dingy returned, have the Steward rouse him at that time as he had not slept since some time two days ago... with his orders understood, the QuarterMaster headed to his quarters after making a stop in the Wardroom, collecting all the papers and locking them in his chest for safe keeping. He took off his baldric and sword, hung it on the peg in the bulkhead and lay in his hammock.... tossing his hat on the chest and resting his hands on the cherry stocks of his dragoons, he closed his eyes and was asleeep in seconds...::

[William Brand]

Le Requiem

Leaning into the high back of chairs support, the Frenchman considered for a moment. The Valet returned with the requested log then stepped back to the stern windows. Fournier glanced over the entry, then placing the book down on table corner, spun it to William's view.

" It appears that your antagonist was unfortunate enough to survive." A cold smile rose to his expression. " So Capitaine...Of what service may I provide to you now."

William noted the name of Augustus Muller and smiled enough to split his lip a little yet again. He didn't mind the pain then.

"If it isn't too much trouble, I would enjoy watching several of your men beat him soundly, tie him roughly and toss him into the bilge until I may devise something worse for him." William sampled a grape, then added, "Preferably the same bilge in which I was so recently entombed. The spot has...adequately fermented."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Jean-Micheale considered the words and the hatred barely concealed with their utterance. After draining his cup's content, the Frenchman placed it just beyond table edge and contemplated one of the pastries on near platter.

" Capitaine...Hollande, I have no qualms with what you request. But, I must tell you that as you request may prove partially difficult to fullfill."

The amber sights lit on the other briefly, before Fournier refilled both cups. " You have slept for a number of days, in that time the vessel that you arrived here in has been gone through, repairs have been made, she has been repainted and water has been pumped through her belly. She is not her former self."

Fournier paused again to sample the dark brew. " As to the accommodations of "Le Requiem", this vessel has been in service for no more than thirty days. I doubt that you would find her lower regions up to your...expectations." He chuckled as the cup was returned to mohagany surface. Tilting his head slightly to the left, the cold smile returned to semi-weathered features as the Frenchman focused on William again. " Never the less...Why should things of small matter become an issue in the granting of a friend's request, non?"

There was a soft rap that sounded from across the room and Fournier watched as his Valet moved to investigate. Without further delay, the visitor was admitted to the oppulant surround. An impish grin graced the new arrival's features as he stepped to the two captain's proximity.

"Bonjour, Capitaine Hollande! It is good to see that you are feeling better in light of past incident." Lamaire reached across to shake William's hand.

Fournier smiled warmly to his cousin's pressence and motioned for him to take a seat. " Capitaine Hollande, I think you will recall Monsuier Lamaire from our last meeting? You were companions to each other when you first arrived here. A member of the Sloop's crew made poor misjudgment in thinking that it is proper to fire on another after colors have been struck."

Dominique tugged his shirt opening over to reveal bandaging that circled his chest and wound over one shoulder. " It is nothing," Lamaire quipped offhand. " Just another scratch to add to the others, another tale to tell the ladies." The impish grin widened, then he addressed Fournier, "Capitaine, the sloop is standing at ready for the trip back to Fort-de-France. Monsuier L'homme has selected men to crew her as you requested, and is awaiting your command."

" Tres vien! But, now is were we have a quandry...It would be rude of us to assume our honoured guest wishes to see Martinique. Instruct Monsuier L'homme that I wish a finale inspection made of the sloop and I will meet with him within the hour to relay orders, s'il vous plait."

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: soon the dingy had returned with the two lads and was being hauled aboard, Nigel took the liberty of finding the QuarterMaster in his cabin. He knocked and waited as the form within stirred...::

Enter, ye best 'ave goode reason...

::As Dorian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his left hand, he leveled one pistol at the door with his right... Nigel cracked the door open and poked his head in, a wide grin on his face, that was soon wiped from it as he saw the pistol...::

"Mr. Lasseter, Sir! We's back! Sorry ta wake ye, but... but ye said ta--"

::Dorian smiled a sleepy smile and chuckled as he lowered the dragoon...::

S'a'right Lad... I did order it... thankee fer yer report.... all went well I take it?

::Nigel slowly opened the door fully, the smile returning to his face....::

"Aye Sir, the letter was delivered t' the boy... an' is on it's way ta tha' Don..."

::Mr. Lasseter sat up, then stood and stretched in the confines of his cabin, stuck the pistol back in his belt...::

Very well... I shall see you on deck... inform Mr. Badger that we shall be under way...

::Mr. Brisbane nodded and knuckled his forehead and headed topside... Dorian stretched again, took the baldric off the hook and placed it over his shoulder, adjusted the sword, then picked up his hat. Smoothing his hair down and ajdusting his que, he settled the hat on his head, satisfied, he stowed his hammock, then headed topside... reaching the fresh air, a deep breath cleared his head of the final cobwebs of sleep. up to the holy ground he stepped...::

Mr. Badger... set yer course as I have instructed... All plain sail set, if ye please...

Mr. Youngblood! Clear th' guns fer action, but do not run 'em out!

Hmmm.... Send word fer Mr. St. Anthony!

Up th' riggin' ye monkeys, Aloft! We has some Dutchies ta kill!!!

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Prolonged periods of sleep had always been a luxury and after years in the field, the Gascon had been conditioned to sleep in short glimpses. After the meeting, he and his sister had gone back to private quarters and conversed in more depth circumstances of recent passing. Tempest had departed after an hour's time and Armand had found the comfort of swinging encompasment, sleeping heavily to the sway of ship movement. He had remained that way, deep in the arms of sleep's comfort, until instinct brought him to the waking world. Men of the sea, as well as those who served under nation's demand, had a tendancy to be unconsciencly aware of change. It was this change in the Frigate's mannerism that brought him to full awareness now.

Rolling from canvas shroud, Armand adorned himself in simple loose calico, and padded bare foot to the upper decks; to see what could be seen.

[William Brand]

Jean-Micheale considered the words and the hatred barely concealed with their utterance. After draining his cup's content, the Frenchman placed it just beyond table edge and contemplated one of the pastries on near platter.

" Capitaine...Hollande, I have no qualms with what you request. But, I must tell you that as you request may prove partially difficult to fullfill."

The amber sights lit on the other briefly, before Fournier refilled both cups. " You have slept for a number of days, in that time the vessel that you arrived here in has been gone through, repairs have been made, she has been repainted and water has been pumped through her belly. She is not her former self."

Fournier paused again to sample the dark brew. " As to the accommodations of "Le Requiem", this vessel has been in service for no more than thirty days. I doubt that you would find her lower regions up to your...expectations." He chuckled as the cup was returned to mohagany surface. Tilting his head slightly to the left, the cold smile returned to semi-weathered features as the Frenchman focused on William again. " Never the less...Why should things of small matter become an issue in the granting of a friend's request, non?"

There was a soft rap that sounded from across the room and Fournier watched as his Valet moved to investigate. Without further delay, the visitor was admitted to the oppulant surround. An impish grin graced the new arrival's features as he stepped to the two captain's proximity.

"Bonjour, Capitaine Hollande! It is good to see that you are feeling better in light of past incident." Lamaire reached across to shake William's hand.

Fournier smiled warmly to his cousin's pressence and motioned for him to take a seat. " Capitaine Hollande, I think you will recall Monsuier Lamaire from our last meeting? You were companions to each other when you first arrived here. A member of the Sloop's crew made poor misjudgment in thinking that it is proper to fire on another after colors have been struck."

Dominique tugged his shirt opening over to reveal bandaging that circled his chest and wound over one shoulder. " It is nothing," Lamaire quipped offhand. " Just another scratch to add to the others, another tale to tell the ladies." The impish grin widened, then he addressed Fournier, "Capitaine, the sloop is standing at ready for the trip back to Fort-de-France. Monsuier L'homme has selected men to crew her as you requested, and is awaiting your command."

" Tres vien! But, now is were we have a quandry...It would be rude of us to assume our honoured guest wishes to see Martinique. Instruct Monsuier L'homme that I wish a finale inspection made of the sloop and I will meet with him within the hour to relay orders, s'il vous plait."

William was not put off by the news that the bilge was drained and cleaned. Such efficiency was expected from one like Fournier, a most accomplished man of the sea. He was simply glad to be well and to have an enemy under the care of an agreeable host. Waking again to the knowledge that he could come and go while his enemies were under the strict and watchful eye of Fournier's men gave him a satisfaction he hadn't known in weeks. He was also glad to see Lamaire was unharmed, having lost a Captain to a shooter under similar circumstances.

He listened to all their exchanges and when they were through he asked for a chance to visit with Muller before deciding on any other course.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As men jumped to their duties, the QuarterMaster smiled... yet there was something left undone, nagging in the back of his mind...He paced the holy ground in an effort to shake loose what was lodged, hidden from his mind's seeking out... he looked aloft, watching the crew let out canvas, then he swept the decks with his eyes, catching sight of the red tresses of the Captain's Steward it donned on him...::

Ah! th' damned whore in th' bilge!

Ms. Smith! Lay aft!

::She started with his bellowed request to see him on the quarterdeck, then walked with a purpose aft...::

"Aye Mr. Lasseter! wot are yer wishes?"

:: He nodded his approval, seeing her in the slop trousers and shirt, looking very much a part of the working crew...::

Seems we been lax in entertainin' r' guest... take one o' th' strappin' lads down an bring "th' Lady" up from th' bilge... chain 'er ta one o' th' ringbolts amidships.... roust out th' hose an' set ta cleanin' 'er up... time ta see iffn' she be worth keepin'... or feedin' th' fishes...

::He clasped his hands behind his back and a thin hard smile spread across his face...::

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She bobbed her head in acceptance of the Quatermaster's orders. "Aye sir." She then turned on her heels and swaggered across deck. "OY! McGinty!" She bellowed across to one of the crewmen, who looked up and saw her motion for him to follow as she headed below.

Slowly, she made her way down to the bildge, McGinty close behind. Soon, they had pulled the prisioner up out of the stench, and Tudor was pushing her along, back up the levels to the deck, showing no mercy to her injuries or weakness. "Here, you chain her up." She said t McGinty and he gave her a rougish grin. "Not like that" She said with a chuckle and a grin as she turned to go seek out the hose.

"She does stink something fierce . . ." McGinty complained as he bound her up.

Tudor shot him a malicious grin over her shoulder. "Some of that be partially my fault - earlier when I was down keeping her 'company' I might have, um, scared her into making a bit of a mess of herself."

In short order, all was done as the Quatermaster had requested, they 'lady's' shackles had been run through a ring bolt and the hose was ready to douse her.

While she had been, for the most part, only quiet and whiney as they had drug her to the deck, the screams once the water started could most likely be heard for miles. Every crewman winced at the shrill bellowing as the salt water sprayed over Ilex. Tudor growled in annoyance and crossed to where she was held. "Ah, quit yer screaming!" Tudor hollard over the other woman's cries, and quickly brought her fist to Ilex's chin, who's head snapped back from the force. The screams stopped as Ilex grew temporarily unconcious. "I don't know who I was showing more mercy to there," Tudor started with a grin to McGinty. "Her pain or my ears"

And with that, she went to find the Quartermaster to see if he had any more orders for her.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::the QuarterMaster stood at the rail and watched as the 'guest' was brought topside, chained to the deck, and futher humiliated by being hosed down... Her shrill screams and insults were impressive, but were cut short by a sharp blow from Ms. Smith's fist. As she slumped to the deck, the crew maning the pumps quit, and Ms. Smith made her way aft....::

"Mr. Lasseter... have ye any more orders for me?"

:: Looking down at Ms. Smith, seeing the joy she took in her pugilistic talents, he thought a moment before answering...::

Yes... indeed.... I have need ta know if she be worth keepin' alive... wot is 'er worth? I do believe 'er business was destroyed in tha' fire... but... wot has she o' worth fer us ta keep 'er alive? ye may beat it out o' her... but be a wee bit gentler... she gotta last three days in th' least... fer we won't be near land fer tha' time... D'ye understand me, gerl?

:: He took a step back from the rail...::

Pass th' word fer th' Surgeon...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She gave a sheepish grin . . . "aye sir." She nodded her headin salute, then went back to where Ilex was coming around. She began to speak, but before she had a chance, Tudor had a handkerchief pulled from her pocket and formed into a gag. She then called for a bit of rope and tied up Ilex's wrists, unchaining her, and without mercy, picked her up off the deck forcibly and started pushing her towards her own cabin. Impatiences was obvious, for every time Ilex tripped or stumbled, Tudor would either push her forward, or drag her on ward.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Ms. Smith.... where ye be takin' our 'guest'? She's ta get no comfort from bein' in shade... put 'er back ta th' ringbolt...

:: the look on the QuarterMaster's face was grim... his eyes flicked to the bedraggled form of 'Lady Ilex', his jaw clenched and relaxed...::

On'y mercy she'll get is not bein' thrown by th' board here an' now.... If ye call tha' mercy.... back ta th' ringbolt.... in th' full measure o' th' sun...

[The Doctor]

Jack completed his daily inventory of the Armoury, meticulously accounting for every last shot and flint. His neck was still stiff from the clout he'd taken while searching the hold days before, and while the laudanum the doctor had prescribed allowed him to rest despite the pain, he was less than pleased with how overlong it made his slumber.

As he entered the companionway, he heard the caterwalling the ship's latest "guest." He chuckled at her extensive vocabulary of epithets, and was hardly surprised to hear them abruptly stop at the lest than gentle behest of Miss Smith. He locked the door and headed topside to learn the news of the day.

[Pew]

::Waking to the shrill sounds of Ilex caterwaulling amidships, I rub my eyes to watch to scene unfold. Being hosed down is never pleasant, nonetheless being chained to the deck in the middle of the crew. Watching Tudor have her hand at making the Lady as "refreshed" as possible, made many of the crew chuckle at length. Pulling out my flask, I take a sip. Leaning back onto a roll of cordage, my thoughts wander back to Ilex's maps and the location of her ill begotten gains . . . . ::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

Dominique lead the small party above to the weatherdecks and proximity of the ornate high backed chair that William Brand now occupied. The French crew stood at rigid attention along the waist as if readied for inspection and gave no acknowledgement of the surrounded Dutchman as he was escorted. William was flanked by Fournier and Dubois, just behind was the young subordianate that had been assigned as the flame crowned man's aid. The scene could be a reflection of so many paintings portraying a glimpse of courtiers and king in oil rendering.

The small party halted, parting to reveale the Dutchman, scrubbed roughly clean for presentation. The manacles hung heavily from wrists and came just short of bite at ankles. Muller's eyes gave a cast of rebellious content barely contained, hatred overcast the other as he looked upon the gathering before him. Due to his mannerisms, the Dutchman had been detained with those deemed of more dangerous nature and his cell mates had not proved kindly to his physical being. The two survivors of the Seven had taken every opportunity to show their displeasure and the men assigned to guard both cells had turned blind eye. Rabid dogs, were rabid dogs and if it was in their nature to bite one another then so be it.

It was here, on this mock square of battefield that "Traitor" looked upon "King" and began to roar defiance. A roar that was allowed two words before being cut short by the contact of fist to jaw. Lamaire caught the dissaproving look of Dubois, not for the treatment of the Dutchman, but rather for the possibilities of opening the sutured wounds. Muller was rough handled to stand with respect to his betters and for a fleeting moment, the look of hatred was replaced by one of fear...