Pyrates of the West Coast

[Pew]

I do believe we may be able ta smoke 'er out... show me in th' ledger where ye see the grande amounts... an' how d'ye know she ain't been payin' th' gov'ner 'is due? ye sure tha's wot she wrote? Tha' she din't pay 'im? Hmmm....

::Pointing at the ledger, Mr. Lasseter stand upright and begins thinking, so I continue . ..

"Aye, sah. Looke 'ere. These number dunnot match. 'ere it says she got this 'mount last month, but dinnit pay the gov'nor", turning a few pages back I explain "like she did 'ere . . ."

"Lookin' by it, she got 'erslf a wee bit o' coinage stashed away somewhere's. Ano'er thing, look at this map she charted jus' last week," I unroll Ilex's hand written chart and point at the Spanish man-o-war in the harbor, "Pete and I figured the ones ere wit the line under 'er names be the ones from the plate fleet . . . . "

"Mr. Lasseter, we think we have an idea where Ilex's monies may be . . ."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

" Then what is it about? I have extended my respect to you. I have been proper. You wish to be treated as an equal and not coddled. You acted as if the liaison was a simple affaire and nothing more. I am giving you what you desire. I shall treat you as any other monsuier that works this vessel...an equal. You do not wish to be treated as a delicate creature, afraid to let down your guard...as you wish. I do not have time or patience to play games, Mademoiselle."

The Gascon watched her quietly, "If it does not matter, then why do you react so?"

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I react this way, because . . . it does matter. I don't know why, but it does." she said quietly, then turned around fully. "There, is that letting my guard down enough for you . . . " She couldn't resist stabbing a little. "It wasn't meant to be a game. I . . . don't know how to play the game. I don't . . . " She trailed, scuffing her bare feet on the wood planking. "I want your respect, whether or not the affair . . . " She shook her head as if to clear it. "I'm used to being treated as just another of the men, but that doesn't mean I don't want to have . . ."She searched for a word. "affection."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

He kept his peace for a passing of minutes before speaking again.

"Mademoiselle, I do not know how much more affection could be alotted to you. When given such, you retalliate and strike. Perhaps, you need to find a companion that has more patience...I have been that in an extreme way, and it is not enough."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "You have. You have been more then patient." She said, and tried to disguise her sniff. "I suppose I've buggered up any chance . . . Ye see, I couldn't bring myself to believe you actually held any affection for me. I damn near convinced myself of it, so that when you were trying to keep me safe, all I saw was insult to my ability. I'm not used to men trying to protect me." She sighed then rolled her eyes. It was time to call a cease fire. "But like I said, no chance now aye?" She tried to smile, but it didn't work. "Just wasting air now . . . My apologies, I never meant to hurt you or confuse you. I don't expect you to forgive me, but if you ever do . . ."Standing on tip-toe, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, but quickly pulled away, hurt by his closed stance. She smiled sadly at him, then turned quickly to leave, hoping he wouldn't notice the pooling liquid in her eyes.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Mr. Lasseter, we think we have an idea where Ilex's monies may be . . ."

::Mr. Lasseter looked at the ledger, read the pagers where the discrepancies were... then looked Mr. PEW in the face...::

Ye 'think' ye know where.......... Lessee iffn' th' bitch will tell us, in exchange fer 'er life...

::With that he picked up the ledger and briskly walked out of the ward, up onto the deck where the broken form of the Lady Ilex lay... He stepped up close, knelt down to see if she was jsut resting or had passed out... finding her the latter he stood and directed a bucket of seawater dumped on her as he stepped away... she sucked in a large breath and let out a painful gasp as her head came up, seeing she was still in a personal hell...::

Ah... now tha' ye be awake, gerl... since ye naught gave me Steward an answer, asside from insults I hear... What reason can ye give me ta keep me from tossin' ye o'er th' side, here an' now?

::He waited for an answer.... when none came he stood and looked at McGinty...::

You Lad, put a roundshot in a bag, lash it ta her feet...

::McGinty knuckled his forehead..::

"Aye-aye"

::he turned and headed to a chest on the deck, retrieved a parcel bag big enough to fit a 9 pdr ball in and a length of line... another of the crew came fourth with a cannonball and eased it into the bag... as McGinty lay the bag at her feet and started to pass the line around her feet she cried out,::

"I have money! a ransom's worth!"

::McGinty paused and looked at the Quartermaster...::

Ye do now, do ye? In yer Bawdy House? well, tis gone... or in the 'ands o' the Gov'ner... McGinty, continue...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Tudor bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "You have. You have been more then patient." She said, and tried to disguise her sniff. "I suppose I've buggered up any chance . . . Ye see, I couldn't bring myself to believe you actually held any affection for me. I damn near convinced myself of it, so that when you were trying to keep me safe, all I saw was insult to my ability. I'm not used to men trying to protect me." She sighed then rolled her eyes. It was time to call a cease fire. "But like I said, no chance now aye?" She tried to smile, but it didn't work. "Just wasting air now . . . My apologies, I never meant to hurt you or confuse you. I don't expect you to forgive me, but if you ever do . . ."Standing on tip-toe, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, but quickly pulled away, hurt by his closed stance. She smiled sadly at him, then turned quickly to leave, hoping he wouldn't notice the pooling liquid in her eyes.

He focused forward to a support beam, trying with great effort to make that point of sight the only thing in the area. The wordings and the emotion that surrounded them as an aura, chipped at the edges of his will. The brush of her lips, were near undoing and still the twin pools of grey held the beam. Thoughts flitted from option to option, not unlike sparrows liteing branch to branch on a spring morn and as she turned away, the Gascon broke his trance and briefly looked to her unbeknownst. The rigid military stance gave way minutely and a sigh of exaspiration came forth, pausing her in her tracks.

"Mademoiselle...It is best if you just push me from your mind. My time here is short, when opportunity presents itself, I shall be returning to La Desirade. I think I have done as was needed by duty, and issues of recent importance will soon be laid to rest in regard to this vessel. Now I have obligations by rite of blood, that need attending. You must understand, even if this disruption had not taken place betwixt you and I, there are demands which I must fulfill. So, perhaps it is best that it has happened as it has. You have position and duty to uphold here on this vessel and I have the same in regard to family bonds..."

Armand stepped around to face her, speaking in near whisper,

" It is for the best..."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor's naturally pale face dimmed even more in colouring, the knowledge of his planned departure upsetting, if not unexpected. "Push you from my mind?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Never. I do not forget people I care about, Armand. So few of them you see . . ." She paused and managed to shot him a devilish look. "The only thing I regret is that I wasted precious time being a damned confused mess." She paused and swallowed, hesitating, mulling over her next words. "Some would say . . . that we should make good use of the even shorter time we have before fate takes us from eachother's company . . ."Her voice trailed and she looked up at him, "That is, you're not gone yet, are you?" She silently argued with herself, finding herself trotting down the path of being brazen again. But this time, it her brazeness was not to cover fear, and she closed the distance between them until the was only the smallest amount of space between them. Slowly she reached up, and put one of her slender hands on either side of his face, pulling it down from it's upturned angle, gazing at the rafters, and with out fear, her eyes met his, a glint of humour in her eyes. "Respect me enough to decide what is for the best for myself . . ." She said, then smiled, then backed up, her tone regaining some of it's former cheek and spirit. "Perhaps we could have time to talk again before you depart the Watch Dog . . . that is if you have actually forgiven me yet?" The last statement was more of a question, punctuated by another arched brow, but without waiting for a response, Tudor turned, mussy red curls bouncig, and made her way for the upper levels of the ship.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

The sloop was like as a faint memory, her stern lamps an echo of the stars above; twinkling in distant azure. A new holding cell had been consturcted in the vessel's belly and within that cage were the majority of her remaining crew.

There were exceptions to that detention, the man known as Manrque had been offered position amongst the French. Jean-Micheale had meet with him before the vessels parted company and deemed that such command of the guns should not be wasted to what fates lay in Martinique. Manrque bore no particular loyalty to Cohen de Salmeron, the sloop's former Master, and had gratefully excepted the proposition. The young boy who had informed of William's being in existence, would be sent on to Fournier's new bride. There he would be educated and given position amongst the household staff. Fournier's conversation with the boy earlier, had revealed that the younger had not taken to the Sea by choice, but had been a victim of "pressing" a year before; that he was without any manner of family or home in any distant land and Jean-Micheale deemed that a better chance in life should be offered.

No one could say that Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier was unfair in judgment practices, but cruelty could be inspired as well as mercy. The remaining two of the Seven, Herr Montag and De Servian, had faced execution. The surivors of the sloop gathered on deck to witness and to remember that beings of such ilk would find no tollerance. Those who had been involved in the abuse of William " Holland's " detainment, were handled the same...With one exception.

A grating had been rigged in full face of the elements forward the waist. The Dutchman Muller, secured to it by bite of manacle and rope, was allowed the adornment of nothing more than what he had come into the world with. He had been given just enough substinance to stave of death, dehydration or starvation, and the beatings just severe enough to remind him of his transgretions. Any wounds procured by such incidents were treated in so much, as to keep infection at bay. Fournier did not want the man to perish, but, he did want the other to realize the error of his ways. When and if Le Requiem crossed paths with Watch Dog, Jean-Micheale would hand the man's fate over to William. Until then, three armed men would stand guard over the Dutchman...and the lessons would continue.

Le Requiem greedily took the spray into her teeth, bearing South and West. The destination of choice had become common knowledge to those that served her, the French exchanged knowing smiles and words of bawdy content with anticipation of making landfall.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::McGinty continued to lash the cannonball to her ankles, amid much thrashing about and cursing... once he had it secure, she began yelling about the great stash of monies she had, not at the Bawdyhouse, but elsewhere.... If her life were spared, she'd show them... With a laugh, the QuarterMaster spoke...::

Oh indeed? Nay missy... ye now sees ye life's end at hand, an' ye think tha' s gonna stop me? Iffn' ye 'ave this 'horde o' gold' hidden... tell me where... no promises tha' ye'll show us...

:: He produced the map from inside the ledger and held it out infront of he face... ::

Is this wot ye be meanin'? yer horde hidden somat 'round 'ere? Tell me all for yer life is in th' ballance...

[CaptainCiaran]

A great silence fell over the Watch Dog as all eyes turned to see what the lady prisoner would do. Would she reveal the location? Would Mister Lasseter have her thrown overboard?

[William Brand]

William was present during the executions and beatings handed down to those few who fell out of the reaches of mercy. He stood and watched the lash fall many times, but while he nodded with some satisfaction at the sentences both final and temorary, he was many times distracted by thoughts that carried his attention elsewhere.

"Where are you?" he thought again and again. And even as he asked himself this question, he wasn't entriely sure of whom or what he was asking the question for. He had lost so many friends, possessions and ships in his time. He had departed the company of countries and countrymen too many times to count.

Still the lash fell and still his mind drifted.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

the first class went better than the second one. First I worked on their stance even weight diplacement turning hips (swiveling under control right foot placement if you are right handed and left foot placement for the one lefthanded boy. Bending knees telling them over and over and over again everytime you think about living think about bending at the kness smaller profile and stronger action through leg strength. Then stepping in forward and back into becoming a certain dance step and return. It was a huge ballet class and the giggling women were sneaking peaks from around the back of the mission where we were gathered in the courtyard. Thirty-three of us from ages thirteen to sixty five. We met in the morning at ten then again in the afternoon around four where there was forty nine that showed up. Twas then I showed them how to move the blade from around behind and over into the opponents faces side "from the top" I said "de arriva" "de arriva" that became our chant. Aim for the ear! While always using the weight of the sword to let its own movement carry you through the step forward and the return to the ready, being ready to handle what ever blow your opponent was to throw at you. The object being quickly, always quickly when you slow down you die. It's the moves that are taught but the effectivness is learned from practice and practice will give the speed needed to keep youself alive. Reminding them that as any worthy opponent whilst watching a slow lumbering movement would simply just lunge forward and thrust his sword into the belly or chest on a one move kill. (we have a long way to go and I don't remember all my own lessons from so long long ago)

[Pew]

::Running up the stairs to the main deck, I yell to Mr. Lasseter,

"WE'VE FOUND IT!!!!"

Everyone on deck and in the rigging look down to Pete Straw and I barging out of the gangway and to the mainmast.

Ilex raises her head slowly and squints through swollen shut eyes . . .

Our Quartermaster looks over and makes his way towards us. Only the sound of gentle waves lapping at the hull and the slightest breeze can heard topside.

"Looke 'ere. 'member we told you 'bouts 'La Cortinas', well, ole Pete 'ere figgered out that mean "Curtains" right?"

Looking flustered, Mr. Lasseter folds his arms.

"Right, anyway," I continue, "when the sun 'ere sets, wot color be it makin' Mr. Lasseter?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter let out a small, slightly agrivated sigh...::

I s'pose red... given th' proper weather...

Make yer point, lad...

::he turned slightly back towards the lady bound on the deck and raised his voice slightly....::

Iffn' th' doxy don't speak up soon... we be takin' 'r chances an' find wot there is ta be 'ad wi'out 'er help... for she gonna be parlayin' 'er soul wi' King Neptune... soon....

::he turned back to Mr. PEW and spoke softly....::

Now, what is it ye 'found' lad....

[Pew]

"When the sun sets red, it be causin' the 'La Cortinas' ta turn red . . .RED CURTAINS, Mr. Lasseter, jus' like 'er place . . The Red Curatins!!! . . .Gots ta be where she be 'idin' her monies . . "

[Dorian Lasseter]

Hmmm... I see...

Very goode Mr. PEW, Mr. Straw... now, lessee if th' doxy'll say th' same...

::He turned back to the woman sitting beaten and torn on the deck... He held the chart up again...::

SO... these markin's ye made... wot be here? somat worth savin' yer hide? Speak up! I's about ta 'ave ye sent ta th' bottom...

McGinty, Styles... grab 'er up...

[CaptainCiaran]

Ciaran shouts down to Mister Lasseter,

Sharks. There be a couple nice, hungry ones swimming just off larboard, Sir.

(The lookout smiles slyly as Madame Ilex turns her head back and forth nervously.)

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As Ciaran calls down to the deck, announcing the sighting of sharks about, Mr. Lasseter slowly, turns to look at the Lady Ilex, now hoisted between the two able seamen... He sees the blood drain from her face and her eyes go wide. A slow smile spreads evily across his face as he takes a step closer to her...::

Hmmm... change o' plan..... Lads, rig a line ta th' larb'd end o' the mains'l yard... we goin' fishin' fer shark...

::he stared into her eyes as he reached back and drew fourth his sheath knife, laid the edge against her left forearm, and spoke softly...::

Tho ye be bleedin' some... not enough fer wot I has in mind... they c'n smell fear, doncha know? Nasty brutes they be... a'ter a battle we was rescuin' lads wi' th' barge... some greys come around.... started chumin' on them's in th' water, hangin' on wot were left o' their ships.... I 'ad a lad by th' arms an' one big bastard come up, bit 'im clean in half... I 'ad a fine look inta them eyes... they gots dead eyes... aint no life in 'em... cold... like black stones... then, they roll back inta their 'eads.... poor lad screamed til blood choked 'im... died right there...

::He got quiet and just stared into her eyes as the men rigged up the line. As the bo'sun's mate came over to make the line fast to her wrists, she started to shake and a high pitched scream started to build in her throat. The QuarterMaster clapped his hand over her mouth...::

Yer done lassey... I ain't got no reason ta let ye live as ye 'aven't given me enough reason ta... we know where yer hidin' wot wealth ye got... had ye told me outright... ye might be safely locked away, 'stead o' bein' fishfood...

Ready on th' line? Haul away!

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Sound and action assulted Tudor's senses as she gained the upper decks. She looked around to see writhing form of Ilex, bound up and being swung out over the water. She crossed to where the quatermaster stood, standing next to him, making her look short, her head only barely being above his shoulder. A dark amusement glinted in her silvery eyes. "Permission to shoot her and put her out of her misery?" Laughter lined her tone.

Dorian laughed. "No - let her fret for a bit."

Tudor shrugged and watched as they dipped the prisoner in the water, her blood streakin through the waves, and her screams echoing through the still air. After a few moments her sight began to glaze as her mind wandered. Being at liberty, and with nothing to do, she watched the spectical, as did most of the crew, but it really held no interest for her other then the fact that she had never seen sharks before.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Ajayi came up behind Ms Smith and seen the goings on and decided to start talking to lassiter. Actualy more like he was barking up one block and back down the other and then just as he slowed just a little he would get softer in tone and then without a breath he would again pick up the speed and too the pitch to were he was almost yelling. All that and more were in such a confligration of words with sylables, the immagined spelling of which and definition only God himself could hgave known what it was he was saying. Lasseter looked into his eyes during this time and wished he could understand what the huge native was yelling at and to him. He could see this man was miffed and his eyes were bleedin daggers. If eyes could talk Lasseter knew he was in trouble. Lasseter twitched once and stepped back from Ajayi. Turned to Jack and asked fer him to step atween them.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor's head snapped up as the large African brushed past her carelessly and start to vituperate the Quatermaster, and angry, nay, almost violent gleam in his eyes. Without out thought, but simply out of instinct and reflex, she grabbed her pistols, leveling them at Ajay's back, the quite click of the locks lost admist the noise of her target's tirade.

[CaptainCiaran]

The two sharks circled a good ways out, then seemed to catch the smell of blood in the water and swiftly came toward the Watch Dog. As they got within 20 feet of Lady Ilex's writhing figure, Mister Lasseter ordered her quickly hoisted upward. The lines were hauled and the drenched, screaming figure was heaved out and upward just as one of the big sharks passed below. Both sharks were now so close to the surface that ye could see their horrible mouths. And through her screams of sheer terror, Lady Ilex were begging Mister Lasseter fer mercy.

On the ship, came great sounds of laughter and shouts to 'feed her to the sharks' came from some of the crew. Ciaran threw back his head laughing, and as he leaned forward, he saw it....a speck on the horizon. Quickly he pulled out the lens and placed the glass to his eye. Aye, twas a ship!

"Sail Ho!" the lookout shouted. The laughter and screams from below were so loud that no one seamed to hear him. Ciaran turned his head downward and with all his might yelled, "SAIL HO!". This time he was heard and a silence slowly settled on the deck. Lady Ilex however continued her screams, so Ciaran had to continue shoutin' to the top of his lungs.

"Sail Ho, Mister Lasseter! East North East Larboard....Aye, she be slowly growin' in size, so she be headin' in our direction. Still a long ways out, Sir, but heading roughly towards us."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The QuarterMaster looked towards the man inthe crow's nest as he yelled that he spotted a ship, before he had been distracted by the Moor's animated speech. Though he could not understand the man, he knew he was upset at something, but intended to make a point very clear... (Do not deign to think I would be afraid of a man, reguardless of his size) looking to the lads on the line hoisting the woman, he gave orders...::

A'right lads, haul 'er back aboard... there be a ship bearin' towards us... take'er ta th' cable tier, lock 'er up there fer now...

::turning to Ajayi, he made several hand gestures, Mr. Lasseter pointed to himself then put his hand with his fingers spread, palm out on his forehead...::

I am "Chief" here...

::then putting his fist against his chest, ::

QuarterMaster.... Hmm... mebee to hard...

::Again he put his fist to his chest,::

Dorian...

::Pointing to the Moor,::

Ajayi...

::Pointing to himself and making the hand to his forehead gesture,::

I am "Chief"

::He saw some understanding in the Moor's eyes and slowly nodded his head..::

Ye understand... goode....

::Turning slightly away, looking aft to the Bo'sun, ::

Mr. Badger! I's headin' aloft, gonna see wot tha' ship's about...

Mr. Youngblood! Mr. St. Anthony! Beat ta Quarters! Do NOT run out th' Guns! wait fer m'orders!

:: He stepped away and over to the shrouds, deftly climbing up the ratlines, up, up to the crow's nest... he stood on the yard, with one arm around the mast...::

Show me th' ship, Ciaran...

[CaptainCiaran]

The lookout drew himself over toward Mister Lasseter so to align both their bodies in the same direction. Squinting in the sunlight with his naked eye, Ciaran focused and then pointed...."there, Sir, far on the horizon, even without the glass I can make out the white sails"

Mister Lasseter followed his own eyes to the point of Ciaran's finger and looked, and nodded aye.

Both then raised their glasses and looked.