Pyrates of the West Coast

[William Brand]

William nodded, having expected advice along these lines. He removed his hat to smooth back his hair and then replaced it.

"Mister Lasseter, please choose five able seamen to carry out the task of recovering the Monsignor or information about the Monsignor. Give them purse for the journey, but make it understood that they are to risk no hurt to themselves. If he should not be found on La Margarita, then they should not leave the island, but report back with their findings."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye Cap'n... I'll send 'em at th' change o' th' watch...

::he turned and knuckled his forehead then started for the stairs. As he put his fot down on the top step he stopped and truned back...::

Damn'd goode ta have ye back William... damn'd goode...

::Turning back he headed down into the waist then below, rousing the required men to go in search of the Monsignor, given the strict orders issued by the captain, he told them to assemble on deck at the striking of the eighth bell of the motning watch, where he would meet them and give them final orders, an amount of specie to hold them through their time ashore, and a final check of their arms...

He made his way through the galley, dropping off the tankard, and headed all through the rest of the ship, checking on the guest in the cable tier and the welfare of the crew...

He made his way to his quarters, entered and went about filling a small pouch with coin to give to the men for their mission. As he stood he smiled and patted his pocket, which turned his smile into a frown as he stuck his hand in. Not finding the folded parchment from the Don there he stopped to think... Yes, he had given it to Captain William, but had not gotten it back... with a nod, he turned and left his cabin, heading to the familiar planking of the quarterdeck...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The bow split the glass texture of harbour waters causing froth to run her sides. Six men pulled with vigor to close the distance that lay between kindred ships of differing nation and design. Dressed in simple affaire, Dominique-Gaston Lamaire kept his focus trained on nearing vessel and waited to take in the general mood on morning weather decks. The request lay nestled in coat pocket, protected from damaged which would not occure with the harbour's current mood.

Drawing ever closer, the young Frenchman heard the calls announcing the launch's proximity and curious faces appeared at stern rail. Oars were shipped, allowing a slowing of momentum. Standing to full legnth, he called across the dissipating distance...

" Bonjour! I have a message to deliver and ask for permission to board.."

From above, the features of a familiar face gazed down to the waiting craft. Dominique offered a grin to the Quartermaster and making show of smallish bow, called to him.

" Ah...Monsieur Lasseter. I see you are well in the time that has passed since our last meeting, non? I have a message for Mademoiselle Ber... Mademoiselle Fitzgerald. May I have your permission to come aboard and speak with her, s'il vous plait?"

The Quartermaster hesitated momentarily, hazel eyes wandering from the Frenchmen below to the corvette then back. Cocking a brow, Dorian leaned forward against the rail, " Permission granted Lieutenant, tell yer lads to fasten to the main chains there an' I will send word fer the Surgeon."

A brief passing of minutes reeled by, as Lamaire made small conversation with the Quartermaster. Arriving on weather deck surface, Tempest looked aft, and seeing who the caller was, smiled warmly on approach.

" Salut, Gaston! Comment allez-vous?"

Moving foward to breech the gap betwixt, Lamaire bowed with flourish. Taking her proffered hand he replied, " Tres bien, mademoiselle. Merci! Et vous?"

" Tout va bien. Merci."

Stepping closer, he leaned forward to whisper, " Jean-Micheale sent me. Can we go somewhere with more privacy, mon cheri?"

"Oui..." She replied and looking to Dorian, called his attention, " Mister Lasseter, Lieutenant Lamaire and I have a private matter to discuss. We shall be in my chambers, if need arises."

For a fleeting moment, Tempest caught a smallish hint of query raise in Dorian's eyes. No answer could be given, she turned away to lead old aquaint to the dim passages below...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

The killing classes with the men came to an eventful near death experience this day when two of the most talented with long blade during their drills seemed to get into it you know when your moxxy begets yer temper and ye be the best and are going to prove it at all expense? Well they were tryin to kill each other but the blows were thwarted and then given as if choreographed by a dance instructer to the tune of a ten minute battle of fierce entanglement and ended in a fista cuffs..... I broke them up applauding the right to bare witness to such a fine example of practice made perfect. The whole class had stopped and payed their own attention as it had consumed the very fire in us all. We all applauded to their magestry. I am blessed that if half of the islands men got it this well we should be well protected from the next ship of fools come ta Sunday go ta meetin scurvy crew that comes ashore we be sendin them to the devils own dinner table then......

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Much had been revealed this day, the french corvette, Le Requiem, was captained by none other than Capitaine Fournier... It seems he had been given a new command and Mr. Lasseter hoped he could congradulate the man in person, but time would tell if it would happen. The Lieutenant, Lamaire by name, was a pleasant fellow, one who Dorian found it very easy to get along with... As he made reaquaint with Ms. Fitzgerald and they were in need of privacy, a slight twinge past across Dorians' face.... He knew there was some history betwixt these two, in some fashion. He brushed away the thought and gazed out at the heavily armed fighting ship, again peering through his 'glass at it's features. He made guesses that the cannon she had in her belly were no less than the largest they had aboard the 'Dog, a grand battery of twenty four, or even thirty two pounders... Looking down the line of blackend eighteen pounder barrels, punctuated in the middle by the two brass twenty fours, he wondered if the Watch Dog could handle such heavy armament... For that matter, would she handle the weight of the guns period, or would she just heel over and continue, being top heavy with them... Shaking his head slowly he knew that as good a ship as the 'Dog is, she would not be able to handle such, for that matter, their was no need.... If she could not outgun another ship, she could definitely outsail another...

His mind's wanderings were broken as the men assembled to go ashore in search of the Monsignor...::

Ah. lads... very goode... I see ye got yer arms... dressed fer shore leave, eh? Very well... just as long as ye 'member, it ain't shore leave ta galivant about.... McGinty... 'ere be some coin ta get ye by, not fer lollin' in a pub!

Right, ye gots yer orders...Off with ye, inta th' St. Kitts, be back afore th' first dog on th' morrow....

::The QuarterMaster saw them into the longboat, McGinty, Smyth, Marchand, Whiting, and Godfrey...::

Gods speed to ye Lads!

[William Brand]

Word reached William in the Ward Room that Dominique-Gaston Lamaire was aboard and in conference with the Ship's Surgeon. William received this news with only the slightest nod. Interactions with the French were becoming common place. He returned almost immediately to the limited cartography available on La Margarita. While better than some, it was, as many maps of the day, inadequate. William lamented a little that he had not pursued a more active career in cartography. He had shown a knack for it in his youth and might have made a name for himself. Not that he hadn't made a name of some renown, albeit infamous.

After a time he heard an assembly of men on the deck and the preparation of one of the small boats. He took up his new coat and went topside. The longboat was turning away from the Watch Dog and William gave a nod to the man at the tiller as he turned back to the Quartermaster.

"Thank you, Mister Lasseter."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye Cap'n... I told 'em ta be back afore th' first dog watch on th' morrow... give 'em a day fer now... dependin' on wot else might insue, mayhaps they'll get a second day to poke about...

::Standing at the rail, watching the longboat growing smaller as it made its way to shore, Mr. Lasseter was quiet. Soon the details of the men aboard were lost, so he turned his thoughts elsewhere. Breaking the silence he took off his hat and wiped his brow, ::

Cap'n, I had given ye th' note I recieved from th' Don... do ye still 'ave it on yer person? An when shall we send word back, so as to have an audiance wi' th' man.... I m'self would like ta get that o'er with... sos we c'n be on 'r way... th' idleness o' bein' in port is... is... I guess I's gettin impatient....

[William Brand]

"Let us do so now. I am well rested and everything seems to be in order. Please inform Mister Badger that he shall have the deck and inform the Master Gunner and Master-at-Arms to be mindful of the watch. Then send word to the Don."

William removed his spyglass and remained at the rail until the longboat was secured at the docks.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Knuckling his brow, the QuarterMaster turned away from the rail...::

Aye, Cap'n... I gonna go an' make sure m'best set o' clothes r' made ready fer th' trip a'terwards...

::he made his way from the quarterdeck to find the Bo'sun, Master Gunner, and Master at Arms, then to the wardroom to write out the answer to the Don, accepting the invitation to meet, asking for when they should arrive, etc.... Once done, he sealed the parchment, and delivered it to the always happy to serve person of Mr. PEW, who happily went off to find his mates to join him in the dingy for the trip to shore.... Heading back to his quarters, he opened his sea chest and pulled out the best of his clothes, swept them down, polished the butttons quickly, and arrainged them to air out. As he was doing this, his thoughts wandered to what might be the reasoning for the private meeting between Lamiere and the Surgeon... He hoped it was not some ill fated news of a family member or other aquaintance, mayhaps it was an offer to ship her aboard le Requiem as their Surgeon... mayhaps it was just a private conversation among old friends...

He let his mind wander so as his hands worked at making sure all was properly presentable, made sure that nothing was threadbare... He had actually bought some of these clothes then added to them himself, adding better buttons that he'd found elsewhere, edgeing the sash with gold thread to add richness... simple affairs to a sailor...::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

An hour passed as though it were a blink of eye, too much to catch up on and never enough time...or so it seemed. Realizing that the answer to question should be delivered, Dominique gave forth a exhalation of exasperation.

" I am sure that Jean-Micheale has well worn a rut in the decks pacing in my absence." An impish grin rolled his features, causing contortion to the scar mantling the left planes. Standing, he extended a hand to the Surgeon and winked. As she entertwined fingers with his own, he cocked his head in thought.

" I do not think we are to leave this vacinity for a number of days. If your schedual and the ship's permit, you must join me ashore for a time. I know of a place that proffers the best local fare to be found in these lattitudes..." The grin widened and was accentuated by mischievous glint of eye. " I would think it amusing to watch Jean-Michaele's reaction to said news."

Tempest considered the statement and laughed in deep amusement before replying.

" I should enjoy the offer on both counts. It would be like times past in Marseille. I will let you know if scheduel permits in the near future."

" Bon! I should look forward to it with greatened anticipation! Now, be so kind as to escort me above decks, petit. The sooner we part...the sooner I will have you to myself again, non?"

With an affectionate drape of left arm across her shoulders, they returned above...

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Dorian had finished in his quarters and made his way topside where he tried to appear relaxed as he walked from bow to stern, looking to shore for the returning form of Mr. PEW and the reply from the Don. Each time he turned about, he stared at the shoreline... After several circuits of the deck, he watched as Ms. Fitzgerald and the Frenchman, Lamaire came topside, still in conversation with warm looks on their faces. He stopped his forward movement to study them, he noted the ease with which they spoke to each other and wondered again what the private conversation was about... catching himself as his brow started to wrinkle, he chuckled to himself and smiled, walking the deck with long strides, bringing his form infront of the two...::

Leftenant, Ms. Fitzgerald... erm... Tout est bien ?

::sure he had pronounced the french well, he stood and watched as they looked at him, then at each other with a brow raised... ::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Dominique eyed the Quartermaster momentarily then chuckled.

Oui, Monsuier Lasseter....Merci." The impish grin gave forth its standing, once again. " But...pardon my saying so, it would be etre, non?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

::with a nod Dorian smiled..::

So be it....

::He glanced to the shore again, then back to them...::

I 'spect yer headed back ta yer ship, Leftenant? I was wonderin'... I see ye have h' Don's flag there... I suppose ye been 'round 'im... I... We await word from 'im fer an audiance... We had made an.... business arraingement.... an' will soon finish th' transaction...

::seeing the intresting yet knowing look on Lamaire's face, he added,::

But a s'pose ye know this already, bein' in his goode graces...

::Turning directly to the Surgeon, he addressed her,::

If ye would wish to come to Th' Don's estate, I's sure th' Cap'n won't mind... ye been aboard far too long... Armand will be along too, o'course....

::Turning to face them both, ::

Will we see you and possibly Capitaine Fournier there? I would like ta congradulate 'im on 'is new ship...

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*While every one was either on deck or tended to other duties, Kendra went to Jack's bunk and laid his new tricorn gingerly upon his pillow and has quickly as she could muster went up on deck to see the going's on*

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Dominique listened intently to what the Quartermaster relayed and giving a moment of consideration, replied with friendly tone.

" One could say I know of certain arrangements and bargins struck, Monsieur. If it is that you wish an escort of sorts to Don Vasquez's estate, I am sure such may be arranged. We will be in port for a few days longer. " Lamaire glanced to Le Requiem, " Capitaine Fournier would be pleased to receive your sentiments as well as gaining your company again, I am certain."

The Surgeon quietly wondered what was whirling through Dorian's thought processes at current moment. By all apearances, she was sure that the interaction that lay between herself and Gaston could be most misleading. It was in the midst of that pondering, that Dorian made invitation.

" The opportunity sounds delightful, by all means. But, I should wonder how the Don would view my presence. Perhaps we should give it some thought before making a final decision for the sake of propriety."

It was a truth that could not be denied. The Don would most asuredly be in acceptance of Armand's attendance and that of the Quartermaster would fall into a state of approval, as well. She knew that the actions of diplomatic ventures were touchy in balance and if the affaire were more of a general issue, things would be different. Lamaire nodded in accord to her statement, then centered his attention back on Dorian.

" I shall be happy to render any service at my disposal to Capitaine...Hollande and yourself, as would Capitaine Fournier. Send word of your intentions and we will work to accommodate. Now..." Lamaire extended a hand to Dorian, " You will excuse me, for I must return to Requiem."

Giving firm clasp and shake, the Quartermaster thanked the other and giving well wishes until next encounter, left company. Tempest watched after departure then turned to her companion.

"I am so pleased that we were able to speak for a time. Give Jean- Micheale my warm regards along with my answer, s'il vous plait. If things allow, I shall look forward to fulfilling your offer of invitation."

With the delivery of close embrace, Dominique stepped back a pace. Shaking his head with negation, he spoke in quiet undertone while resting hands on either of her shoulders.

"Jean-Micheale was a fool to let you slip from his keeping, mon chaton."

"Those were different times, Gaston..."

" Oui...But he should not have taken no for an answer so easily...I would not have."

Tempest chuckled, " Ahhh...but, un femme would doubtfully keep your attentions focus overlong, mon cher."

Giving forth a show of faux injury, he then laughed in response, " But chaton, you paint me to be such a vaurien ...and you are more than likely correct."

They walked to the rail where he began to make downward to the waiting launch. Breeching half the distance, Lamaire paused in progress and made exlaimation of ill verbose under breath. Reversing direction, he reached to regain footing on main deck as the Surgeon looked upon him an expression of confusion.

Reaching into side pocket, a parchiment quite similar to the one delivered ealier in private chambers was produced. Handing it over to her keeping, he quickly explained that it was for the Capitaine in regard to the delivery of Muller. Giving a quick bow, Lamaire returned to original intention and the launch pulled away to her keeper.

She watched after for a moment, giving wave of farewell then made for the Holy Ground where Dorian acted as though nothing had transpired while transcribing into a bound log. Looking up from task as she neared, he offered a welcoming smile.

"Will you please make sure that the Captain receives this? I do not wish to disturb him, although the matter in question is of great interest to him..."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Cannons would level this town! If ever a hair on one of a pirate boarding parties head were touched here in San Pedro de Coche. I realized the need for three strategicly placed long range cannons. 12 maybe even isteen pounders.... I should liken to scrath up a few more pieces of gold from the parish and take them to La Margarita.

The men were in between where they needed to go but quickly (in my head my clock was spilling its guts) and I knew this place would be gettin real hot, and very soon. I had to get more out of them in order to get more into them. Todays lesson is the shield: Your shield is an important part of your defense. It is, however, far from the most important part. What is the most important part you ask? Your feet (followed very, very closely by your hips). Defense is the skill of not allowing your body to be struck by a weapon. It is not the skill of blocking blows with your shield. The shield is there to balance your moves and allow your feet time to return to their ready without getting out of or losing allignment with your weapon and its movement of offensive strikes and blows. In theory shield principles are fairly straightforward. You want to move it as little as possible. You want to move it to as few regular locations as possible. That's it the theory it proved worthy, understood by few, lost to the depths of the seas by many. Then I heard a cannon! It was a cannon right? Or was it thunder? No it was indeed a cannon. I walked away from the class I knew they could feel my dread but I had to get over to La Margarita what boat could carry a few back? Did the island even have a ship? I didn't think so! I excused myself from the class and went to Senoir Sanchez farmhouse on the sugar plantation and got there just before evenings meal was served of course I was invited in and partook of the dons givings. But no ship did he have. He said I should go there purchase the cannons we needed and have them brought over on the next supply ship. Yes I thought I should do this first thing on the morrow. Even though the cannons stopped hours ago I knew that pirate ships were always a threat. I thank them for thier hospitality and made my way back to the mission.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

It was late I tossed and turned thinking about so much to do so little getting done. Then as if haunted, a ghost had walked through me, into me and sat down and enveloped me to within an inch of becoming its own skin as an entity of the devils own. I rose with a start, fighting back the urge to jump and shake this unknown weight off of me. The embodiment of that which had found a home clearly upon my own shoulders. I was frightened, began to shake, then as if all clarity in the matter was focused in and clearly seen I faced it's strengths with a need of reconcilitaiton. It was the captain, Captain Redwake was back. I arose, dressed and went down to the docks and shoved off, alone, toward La Margarita. I had a job to do and it was time to get it done.

[William Brand]

"Disturb me?" William asked as he approached the quarterdeck from amidships. "I'm not so easily disturbed."

"Bonjour, Capitaine. I did not see you there." Tempest said with a smile.

"Doctor. Mister Lasseter."

The Quartermaster passed the newly received parchment over to the Captain. William read the brief correspondence and turned to Mister Lasseter. "We will be welcoming another prisoner to the Watch Dog shortly. When he comes aboard, I want our new guest kept separate from the old. I should like him tied up in the fo'c'sle, if you please."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Also, I should like any idle crew members to assist Mister Badger in the airing of the spare canvas before we put to sea. I should like Mister Badger and Miss Kendra to examine the spare sails and see that no mildew or mice have been at them. They may make what repairs they need to at that time."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor surfaced on the decks from the below, scanning the decks and approaching the captain on the Quarterdecks, his spy glass, cutlass and a tankard of coffee filling both of her ink-stained hands. "Here you are sir." She said, handing the procured items to him, then standing back at a form of attention, awaiting any forthcoming orders.

[William Brand]

William thanked Mister Lasseter and excusing himself from the Doctor's company, he excepted each of the proffered items with a smile and a thank you. William noted the ink on her hands but he refrained any comment on them. Instead, he sipped his coffee with a satisfied nod, and looking over his cup he asked, "How have you been, Miss Smith?"

"Fine, Captain."

"Good. Good." William said and handed her the half empty cup as he placed the cutlass and baldric over his shoulder. He rested the weight there, adjusting it several times. Then he took back the cup and saucer and examined her up and down as he walked about her in a slow circle.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor continued to stand as the captain looked her over, circling her. "Is there something amiss Captain?" She asked, an almost amused curiosity to her tone. She tapped her bare foot on the wood planking of the deck, waiting and wondering what was going through the good captain's mind.

[William Brand]

William stood in front of her shaking his head with his arms folded. "That simply won't do."

"Captain...?"

"I couldn't possible escort you into the presence of the Don barefoot. And while the well worn clothing of a Ship's Steward is presentable enough for the every day duties required of you here, this attire will not serve in court." William let his hands drop at his sides. "I am afraid that I must insist that you take a perfumed bath and adorn yourself in the finest of finery in preparation to take my arm and be received into the presence of the Don."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

A grin of surprising purportions broke the Steward's face. "Aye sir. I shall see to it right away. When do we depart for shore?" She said, already going through the order of actions in her head.

"Plenty of time, Miss Smith. An hour or two."

Tudor thought to herself that asking any other woman to transform herself from a grubby Steward into a lady of standing in only two hours would be a near to impossible task and it was all she could do to keep herself from laughing knowing that she could. "I shall be ready in an hour and thirty." She said then turned and headed below.

Opon gaining her cramped quaters, Tudor pulled a small trunk from below her bunk. But contrary to the case's compact size, it was filled with a myriad of items. On the top sat the items she would need first. A sea-sponge, a uneven piece of soap, and a bottle of perfume. Collecting the first to and leaving the glass vial, Tudor once again, headed topside, and approached the Captain. "Permission to go swimming sir." She said, a small smile pulling at her mouth.

[William Brand]

"Permission granted, but do take some fresh water to yourself afterward. I will see that it is replaced before we leave to sea." William went to the rail and watched the progress of many ships in the dockyard, careful to note their position and the degree of each ship's conduct and order. Many ships maintained a relaxed posture, lazily going about the every day work of maintenance and repair. Others were strict in their execution of routine.

The splash that signified Miss Smith's bath was overshadowed by a church bell that tolled the hour from shore. William noted the time and made a note to check it against the sextant and the hour marked by the glass aboard.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Her diving technique was unique to say the least. With self-deprecation, Tudor thought that she must be the only crew memeber on any ship that dives into the water, holding her nose and breath. Just managing to keep her head above water, Tudor quickly lathered the soap and scrubbed of any visible dirt from her arms, sholders, face and hands. She spent at least 5 minutes alone, scrubbing violently at her hands, trying to get the inkstains off. When she was convinced that every layer of grim was gone, she floundered awkwardly and grabbed onto the rigging on the ships side, pulling herself out of the water. She left wet foot prints along the deck as she went in search of a bit of fresh water.

After rinsing and drying, Tudor once again made her way back to her quaters. She quickly slipped into a thin shift made out of the finest cotton, that she had pulled from her trunk, discarding her wet slops and shirt into the corner that still held her dirty red skirt. She then combed some of the scented oil through her already wet hair, dabbing the excess left on her fingers on her pulse points.

The next step would prove the trickiest. She silently swore to herself as she pulled her set of stays out of their place in her trunk. There was only one person she could think of that would know how to lace the corset up properly, so with resolve, she clutched the garment and went in search of the ship's doctor.