Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon tried with ernest to repress his amusement, " Lamaire? Dominique-Gaston Lamaire?...Mon ami, he is only a year my senior as I recall. Amorous? Non..." He placed a hand reassuringly on the Quartermaster's left shoulder. "Non...They are very good friends, that is their only history."

Removing his hand, Armand watched his friend and considered how he should continue. Looking away distractedly he moved forward in revealings in softened tone.

"It is not Dominique that should give you concern, rather Capitaine Fournier...that is where the true history is, ami."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As Armand spoke of the french officers a look of revelation and even relief crossed Dorian's face... but with the new information of Capitaine Fournier's past involvement he looked as he had before...::

Ah..... I see.... I suppose with 'is new newly appointed command... tis a much larger ship than 'is last.... I'm sure most o' his old crew took berth on 'er... but there would be need for additional crew....... an' officers....

::He looked up at Armand then away...::

Well... can't all be wine 'n roses now... Come... let us away topside...

::The QuarterMaster stepped back, holding out his arm so as to offer Armand a way out to the passage way....::

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Shoreline

As day began receading and the pass of early evening's reign came into play, three coaches of elegant wrought drew to halt on near shore. Upon each door lay the sigil of Vasquez and the teams that gave motion to vehicles matched each other with flawless color and gait. In accompaniment, were four well groomed men in velvet coats of deepest burgandy to each chase and all gave nothing less than picture of perfection.

The hour drew near and the team's shook harness and feathered head stalls as if the anticipation of event could not be contained...

[William Brand]

The quarterdeck of the Watch Dog.

William was on the quarterdeck within minutes of his last orders wearing the dark brushed coat that had recently been gifted to him. The buttons were highly polished and he his left hand rested on the guard of the mortuary sword at his hip. He noted the carriages, even without the aid of a spyglass. His eyes had even been keen in regards to great distances. A smile played about his lips as he noted the arrival of each officer in their finery.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As was in past event, normal clothing had been exchanged for Paris finery. The cut and tailoring much similar to emerald green gown of earlier engagement, clung to its' wearer and accentuated what should be. The flow of royal blue gave compliment to that of Armand's own, a brilliant display in early evening light. The couple gained the upper decks and waited quietly for the rest to assemble.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The QuarterMaster had taken to a slow walk behind The Surgeon and Armand. As he gained the upper realms he placed the hat on his head and adjusted it as best he remembered how Armand had done so. walking slowly to the side of William, he crossed his hands behind his back and nodded...::

Cap'n...

"Mister Lasseter... where did you get that hat?"

::With a stiffled chuckle Dorian smiled and looked Armand's way..::

It seems m'hat... th' one I normaly wear 'appens ta be beyond hope o' lookin' right wi' all this finery... thus I 'ad ta borrow one from Armand...

:: Dorain shrugged...::

'E says it looks grande...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Stepping down from the lead coach, Lamaire silently cursed the third bottle of Medeira from the night before. Scanning the horizon, he made careful note of approximate hour and longed for the congas to cease torture of his head. Moving to the primitive railing that bordered this area of the harbour, the Young Frenchman focused on the Watch Dog.

It could be seen from this distance that action was being taken to ready one of the launches. Soon the craft would be filled and his charges ashore. Soon the short journey to the Don's estate would be finished. Soon he would have a large glass of aged cognac in hand to battle the pain in his head...

[William Brand]

William smiled and regarded Mister Lasseter by stepping back a pace or two. He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"That will do, Mister Lasseter. That will do. We shall present ourselves as mismatched state birds among so many peacocks tonight." Then William removed his own hat and looked down at his finery, simple as it was. "It appears that I am to play the Rook in the aviary."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Miss Tudor Smith arrived on upper deck causing a stir amongst the ranks. It was not as though she had never been viewed in a dress before, on the contrary. But, what the young woman chose for current attire drew whispers of appreciation and the fumbling carriage normally viewed was vanquished along with normal cladding. The wild mop of mane so usual in its presentation of awry exsistance, was now delicately held in place by combs of exquisit qualities. Her posture straight and dignified gave no betrayal to normal behaviors as she approached the Captain and Quartermaster and gave curtsy of aristocratic qualities as would be viewed in the most noble houses of Europe. Seeing the reaction that was stiring, her expression allowed a break of smile that was quickly hidden...

[William Brand]

They were in the midst of idle conversation when the ship's Steward arrived on deck. There could be no mistaking the alteration to herself and the alteration her presence made on the crew, but when she stopped before the Captain she altered him almost at once, for he faltered midsentence and his hat was off before he noticed that he had removed it. It came off of his head in a quick, but somewhat clumsy fashion. Still, he recovered a bit in the grace of his bow as he doubled over effortlessly with a long, slow sweep of arm.

"Miss Smith."

As he returned to his full height, he brandished a smile both quiet and generous. He turned to Mister Lasseter who was also smiling.

"As I said before, Mister Lasseter, we are too stately a pair of birds for the company we keep. See here, our own Steward is a bird of paradise."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand and his sister conversed quietly betwixt themselves when the ripple of comment disturbed the quiet. It was in the midst of of making a point in regard to upcoming events, that the Gascon was startled into silence. The cool grey sights centered on the young portrait of courtly mannerisms and followed intently as Miss Tudor gained the attentions of Captain and Quartermaster. Taking an unconscience step forward, as if drawn involuntarily as moth to flame, the young Frenchman was stirred inwardly by the elegant butterfly arisen from chrysilis. With inner impatience, he watched the scene betwixt officers and object of desire and restrained the whim of standing as barrier to the males.

Miss Smith made sidelong glance in his direction and in response, Armand doffed heavily plumed hat and bowed with flourish to her notice...

[William Brand]

"Too stately...and perhaps...elderly." William continued, a wry smile on his face.

"With respect, Cap'n." Mister Lasseter said, watching the new interchange between Armand and Miss Smith. "I 'spect yer not much older than I...and I'm not old at all."

They both nodded in tandem, each of them willing to agree that a man's prime was a matter of a man's choice. Meanwhile, all eyes that had followed Miss Smith, now watched her and Armand. William offered them some respite from prying eyes by barking out orders for the cutter to be lowered away.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As response to orders issued ensued, Armand crossed the deck to where Miss Smith stood. Gaining stance of military rigidity, he offered his arm to her, which she accepted with flush of cheek. Nothing was spoken and nothing needed be. Escorting the young woman to where they would depart floating home, Armand paused to catch the Quartermaster's attention. A nod over shoulder in directional indication and easy smile gave hint to what advantage had currently opened.

Dorian's brow furrowed a brief at the silent communication, until the realization struck that he could now take the Gascon's former place in escort. With a nod and wink, Armand turned his back, acting unawares to anything that occured abaft...

[William Brand]

Only the Captain was left without anyone to escort and he sighed a bemused sigh and shook his head. "A rook indeed. Give me a church spire and a bawdy book of verse and I shall make blasphemies alone."

He walked to the gun deck, wending his way among the sailors who leapt to answer the call to lower the cutter. Many hands made short work of the task and it was soon over the side, followed after by the hand picked men who would row her away. Armand assisted a somewhat flustered, but well borne Tudor, and Mister Lasseter lead Tempest to her place in the boat. they were followed by a dapper Mister Badger and a smartly dressed Master at Arms. William reiterated his orders regarding the passage of anyone who would wish admittance to the Watch Dog, adding that the share of grog meant for all those who would not be aboard this evening could be divided amongst the crew.

"Please keep the watches sober and the powder dry."

With that, he joined the bachelors at their end of the cutter and it was ordered away to the docks.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Word from the driver above, startled Lamaire from the daydream he was pursuing. Straightning his posture, he focused to where the Watch Dog released one of her children. The dwarfed craft made steady progress in crossing liquid surface and Dominique smoothed overcoat to presentable view. The skies above were deepening in their display of color and to the young Frenchman's disgruntled senses, congas played on...

[William Brand]

The boat made quick progress over the water under the direction of the apt and able crew. Oars gave over to sail and it unfurled at once and the sleek craft bore out over the bay. The boat seemed heavy with life, not that it was any more filled than it had been at any other time. Yet it overspilled with excitement both voiced and unvoiced.

Armand seemed distracted and the object of his distraction seemed to mind not at all. In fact, she was relishing the attentions she had received since she stepped into the world bearing all her blush as a woman of beauty. Her youth was a evening star and more than one of the cutter crew took notice of it.

Even Mister Lasseter took note of her, though his greater attention was bound up elsewhere. He was neither too forward in his regard of Tempest, nor was he far removed. Instead, the control that he took to be not too much of either just went to show how tightly the good Doctor had gripped him with her charm. She was a subtle creature of grace and power. William thought that no man would ever call her delicate without adding that she was as strong as an anchor cable, all of her strength and power hidden below a surface of clear blue. This analogy was only furthered by the choice of hue she had chosen to drape herself in this evening.

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*Kendra finished her work to the spare sail earlier in the day, so that she could see the Captain and the rest in all their finery disembark.* "They look so lovely," *She whispered to Simon and then sighed* "I wish. . ."

"I know Miss, but believe you me, this is more business then pleasure." *The giant remarked*

"How do you know?"

"The Captain's eyes told me. . .for it is as your father used to say, "The eyes are the window to the soul!"

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor sat, her posture most formal, giving her escort the occasion glance as the cutter made it's way across the water. "Well, Monsiuer D'esnumbuc, how have you been keeping yourself. It seems quite a while since we have spoken." She said, her courtly chit-chat said in a voice that seemed altered from her own. Her tone was more rounded, her words better pronounced. But yet she was still herself . . . just diffrent. Everything about her was thus. Her ruddy curls, while arranged just so, still had an air of mishap to them, as if any second the silver combs that held them would cease to work and the locks would topple awry. And with a small couquettish smile, that held just the faintest shadow of her usual impish grin, she gently flattened a crease in the fine silk of her silver dress. She waited patiently for Armand's response, her fingers slowly tracing the dark blue embroidery on the fabric.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the QuarterMaster sat in the cutter, he marveled at the transformation that had taken place with the officers of his ship, the rag-tag group - himself included - now looked as if they were headed to a grande ball... It was truly amaizing what could be done, although he wondered if everyone was comfortable, truly comfortable all made up this way. He wasn't too uncomfortable, as luck would have it, the breeze across the bay kept the temperature low. However, if they were to be cloistered in the grande hall of the Don's estate, things may be different.

His thoughts ran around in his head, touching on every aspect of what he thought would be taking place this evening, many times this caused him to turn his gaze onto Ms. Fitzgerald, who looked perfectly at home in the gown as she did elbow deep in the surgery during a battle. This caused him to smile. Soon they were close enough to shore to make out the details of the awaiting coaches, and the people around them. Dorian could make out the servants, the drivers, and one lone man in french officers uniform, Leftenant Lamaire, though he looked slightly unsteady. Noting and then dismissing it, Mr. Lasseter shifted his weight slightly, and readjusted his hat. As he did so, he noticed a fragrance, putting his hand to his nose, he inhaled. Yes, the scent of parfume. His eyes flicked to Armand and he pursed his lips... Laying a hand on the Steward's shoulder, he bent over to quietly ask a question of him...::

Armand... would this hat be scented wi' parfume?

:: With a glint in his eyes, he nodded in the affirmative, a smile tugging at his mouth... ::

"Oui, hadn't you noticed it before?"

::Leaning back to his former position while gently shaking his head, Dorian sighed...::

Oh Lardy...

[William Brand]

Armand seemed about to speak when the Quartermaster interrupted him with questions regarding his borrowed covering. William tried to suppress a smile and failed. If he had been required to describe Mister Lasseter in a word, that word would not have been 'perfumed'. Vigilant. Reliable. Not 'perfumed'.

Still, the crew presented the very air of dignity and grace and he was pleased to see each of them falling into step with the occasion presented to them. Miss Smith was composed and both fair of voice and carriage. Tempest was as she ever was, a woman of many contradictions which she traded occasion for occasion. Mister St. Anthony looked at once comfortable and uncomfortable in his skin and attire, but bore himself with an aspect that betrayed experience in such matters. Mister Badger was as sober and well managed as he ever was. He was a chameleon in mixed company, blending in wherever and whenever he was asked to blend. And Mister Lasseter was proving to be a man of many hats. Perfumed or no.

He might have said such to them, but the cutter passed then under the eyes of the dockyard hands and the waiting carriages.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the cutter made its way under the eyes of those waiting for them to come ashore, Mr. Lasseter studies those waiting for them. The servants and drivers of the coaches in their fine livery of Don Vasques's house, all being very stiff and formal, the footmen standing at the doors to each coach waiting for the time to open the doors and assist entry, the drivers staring straight ahead, yet occasionally looking out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for the time to put their team of horses to action. And there, Leftenant Dominique-Gaston Lamaire stood at attention, seeming ever the fine gentleman. However, his eyes betrayed a rowdy time had earlier, even from this distance Dorian could see the redness in them, and a crack of a whip from a passing drey cart caused a wince to cross his face. The QuarterMaster smiled at this and inwardly chuckled, guessing at the possible reason for his discomfort... Soon the cutter pulled up to the warf, the crew with practiced ease soon had her tied off and awaited on the landing in rows to either side...::

[Pew]

::As the cutter approaches the wharf, I remember the duties as set forth unto myself from Mr. Lasseter. I put my eyeglass back into my pocket and head to the find our Master Sailmaker and give her charge of 3 of our mates to help with repairs to the spare sails.

"Whilest we gots time me lady, might as well make these 'ere lads werk fer ya. Mr. Lasseter be askin' me to 'ave these lads make ready the spare sails in case we find ourselves be a flounderin' in rough seas, an I be figgerin' ye be best in charge o' that crew."

::I grab Andrew Smyth and Alan Woodington and inform them of our Quartermaster's duties to accomplish list. I have Young John McGinty accompany me to the gun deck to find Mr. Youngblood. Unable to find him, I tell the young lad search for him and tell him to split the extra rations of grog as the Quartermaster has decided. Young McGinty takes off to find our ship's command of the cannoneers.

::Heading topside again, I find James Whiting and Robert Thatcher with several buckets and mops scrubbing down the Quarterdeck.

"Might 's well make the place looke nice fer the Cap'n, aye Pew?" says Mr. Whiting.

"Aye. Very much so." I grab a scrub mop and begin with the gunwales making sure to jab ole Jim in the ribs every chance I get . . .

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As the cutter was unburdened, Lamaire approached making best to cover the agonies he was dealing with. A brilliant flash of smile, tinted ever so slightly with mischievous quality, came forth as he stoped passage and gave welcoming nod to all present. centering focus upon the flame crowned man, Dominique gave smallish bow then extended his hand in proffered greeting.

"Bonsoir, mes amies. As you can see, Don vasquez has pleasantly accommodated transport to the estate in grand style..." He swept left arm indicating the waiting carriages." I think this evening shall prove an adventure in the finer things."

He paused to catch William's eye and lowered voice in mock tone of conspiracy, " I have seen the menu....and it is appetizing on many levels."

Lamaire chuckled, giving William a wink signifying that the menu in question was not just a matter of the night's meal.

[William Brand]

"Lead on, my good man." William said in a returned mock of profound haste and exaggerated and amused alarm. "Let us be gone, or find too late that the meats of the feasting table have grown cold with our delay."

Lamaire ushered them all to their respective carriages, careful, as was William, to let the ladies enter in first before entering themselves. This was done amidst a flurry of courtesies mixed with the practiced arts of flirtation and presentation. It was to be the first reel in a dance with many sophisticated changes. Each dancer exercised their talents in hands offered and excepted as they climbed aboard the carriages. Some went through the motions, while others took great care to pause when pausing was most advantageous and to fly when flying better served.

It all took place in a moment, but a trained eye could not miss the courtship within this small traveling court.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::All the assembled officers and company from the Watch Dog found themselves comfortably in the carriages, the rustle of gowns came to a stop and once all the doors were shut a sharp crack of the drivers whip from each coach let all know they would be on their way. Again the sharp sound caused Mr. Lasseter to stiffle a laugh. He feined innocence to the curious looks of those whom he shared the coach with as they started off down the slightly uneven roadway....::