Pyrates of the West Coast

[William Brand]

"I've lost almost as many as I have gained, so in terms of pure arithmetic I am balancing the numbers fairly well." William said with a false smile, then added, soberly. "But of course, we are too few surrounded by too many. We have lost a few that cannot be replaced...only...replenished with others."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Fournier nodded with understanding.

"Please allow me to allieviate one of your ailings." The amber sights drifted to where the youngest of the trio sat quietly. "Monsieur Chanault is loyal and very attentive to duty...But here is what is of interest to you, ami. I realize he appears very young, though in truth his is aged twenty one years; his father was a very noted physician in France. Being that this is so, Raphael is well versed in medical proceedures and I do believe that he would benefit you in aid to Mademoiselle Ber....Fitzgerald."

He let the words hang in the air and gave a front of casual ease though it was not a true reflection of thoughts. Conversation with cousin earlier had set Jean-Micheale's instincts afire; duty and honour fought with each other steadfast on inner battlefield.

Fournier waited with ever patience for the other's reply; Lamaire glanced briefly to the Quartermaster and Chanault revealed nothing at all.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

" It be a pleasure makin' yer graces Ciaran, I still intend to have a word with 'em."

"Aye Mr. Gage, I don't believe Nathan's feelin' too well. I've known Nathan nearly all me life, grew up together in the colonies we did. He's always been a stout lad, if'n he's under the weather sure'n it's not a good sign."

" I don't suppose I kin trouble ye fer another fill of me tankard? And has anyone seen the surgeon?"

[William Brand]

Fournier nodded with understanding.

"Please allow me to allieviate one of your ailings." The amber sights drifted to where the youngest of the trio sat quietly. "Monsieur Chanault is loyal and very attentive to duty...But here is what is of interest to you, ami. I realize he appears very young, though in truth his is aged twenty one years; his father was a very noted physician in France. Being that this is so, Raphael is well versed in medical proceedures and I do believe that he would benefit you in aid to Mademoiselle Ber....Fitzgerald."

He let the words hang in the air and gave a front of casual ease though it was not a true reflection of thoughts. Conversation with cousin earlier had set Jean-Micheale's instincts afire; duty and honour fought with each other steadfast on inner battlefield.

Fournier waited with ever patience for the other's reply; Lamaire glanced briefly to the Quartermaster and Chanault revealed nothing at all.

William was many things at once. He was grateful. Anyone recommended by Fournier came highly recommended indeed. Second he was amused. It was becoming so common for those who knew the Doctor's real name to almost but never quite say it, that he was beginning to thing of her as Miss B. Fitzgerald. Also, he was surprised. Her was a man he had never met and Fournier was offering him up as a new recruit as easy as one hands over a pistol. Still, he was about to give his thanks and except the new man aboard when he felt a tickle at the very back of his brain. It was subtle, like a tickle in the throat proceeding a cough, but it was as real a thing as any physical irritation.

There was a long pause. A very long pause. It was long enough for a silence to fall, broken only by the next sounding of the bell.

William looked his old chessmate in the face and asked only one very searching question.

"Why?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

"Pourquoi?" The query of query came in slightly startled fashion. "Why?....Pardon, William...but it seems a rather odd answer to present. I would think the raison to be evident."

[William Brand]

William smiled a moment. It was a sardonic smile, but he answered with a statement more matter of fact than anything else, but not unimportant in its simplicity.

"You turned Le Requiem around."

Fournier's answer was equally direct and seemed to answer to the point. "Oui."

"Just to be certain that I was not minus a second pair of hands in the surgery? I mean no disrespect, Monsieur Chanault. To be in Fournier's service is a coveted epaulet all its own, not to be overlooked."

William's tone was more pragmatic than it was complimentary. William was never one to pour too much honey into a compliment. He looked at Fournier again.

"You know the question has weight. I've lost some good men. Men I would have traded places with. Men who deserved more than accidental endings and slaughter. I'm alone out here, Fournier. You know just how alone the Watch dog is. If you didn't know, you wouldn't have warned me so often. And you have warned me. Why do I feel that this is a warning couched in a gift? Trust me enough to be frank with me."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Fournier considered momentarily as Lamaire shifted ever so slightly in his seating. The Capitaine leaned forward to the table's support and fixed William with an intense scrutiny before speaking.

"Your trade is a dangerous desire. It has come to my hearing that you have accepted men aboard that may be of ill misfortunes. I encourage you to take Monsieur Chanault into your service to ensure that you have someone to speak for you if things go awry. I also ask this due to selfish raisons of my own. I will not stand aside with the knowledge that one of aristocratic line may fall to harms way."

[William Brand]

Like his solitary 'Why?' just minutes before, William's next reply was as multifaceted as it was simple.

"Merci."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

What little tension that had crept over Fournier's features dissipated and he returned to former support of chair backing.

"William, it is not that I carry no faith in what choices you make in strange circumstance, but I wish to know that all will be mostly well on our parting. I will keep my word to you in what I had said during our conversation in the Don's gardens. I will not intercede in regard to those hands newly aquired, I will go so far as to turn blind eye. But, as I warned before, there are others that may not look so kindly upon the varients and again I caution you strongly."

Jean-Micheale glanced to the others of his party then back to William and Dorian.

"I will assume that this means you accept my offer?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Gascon and Surgeon deserted upper decks for the familiar confines of medical theater. Time was fleeting quickly and the sea chest containing Armand's former life in France was all that was left to be checked and secured for transport.

The illumination of lower regions were a direct reflection of the air qualities, but one did not give either second thought as present became past. They spoke in hushed tones, as if pervaying secrets; though in truth it was the stagnent surround that seemed to bring one's voicings to more subtle tones.

Reaching destination, the heavy door was swung to and storm lanterns brought to brighter life; chasing shadows back to their respective corners.

Armand quickly stepped in front of smaller companion and eyed the third party in small chamber suspiciously.

[William Brand]

Jean-Micheale glanced to the others of his party then back to William and Dorian.

"I will assume that this means you accept my offer?"

There are moments in everyone's life when the dawning understanding of an idea can change everything that came before. William experienced this epiphany even as he was nodding his acceptance of the new recruit. It came all at once and he understood much of what he had taken for granted before. It was so clear that William was thunderstruck. He couldn't imagine how he could have missed so much that had been before him. It was at once in everything that Fournier had said and much that he hadn't. It was in a dozen previous conversations shared and secrets kept and for the moment he lost his quiet mask of composure as his mouth formed a long wordless 'Ahhhh.".

When he realized he had more than thought the sound, but spoke it aloud it did little to wake him from his sudden state of revelation. Instead, it wrapped him up so completely in his own mind, as he continued placing the pieces of the puzzle he hadn't quite understood before, that he forgot everyone in the room. He wasn't even conscientious of his own distraction or how it might effect those around him.

He stood up at once, turning to Mister Lasseter. Then he paused. He had meant to ask Mister Lasseter something but it was lost to him all at once.

"Excuse me a moment, Gentlemen." was all he managed as he left the ward room. He left behind the Quartermaster in the awkward position of maintaining the confused gathering.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"You're not a very good pickpocket, y'know" Tudor said looking into the freckled face before her.

The would-be fingersmith's face tried to look innocent. "I'm not a pick pocket."

"Oh, right, sorry, my mistake." Tudor feigned an apology. "Here I thought you were cause you had your hand in my pocket. But obviously I was mistaken."

The shaggy, dirty-blondish hair was laying tousled under an old, beat up navy sailor's hat, that looked like it had died - several times. Tudor smiled. The mismatched bits and pieces of a navy uniform couldn't hide the pickpocket's true identity. "If I were you little miss, I would look for a diffrent job."

[Callie Moore]

The somewhat boyish looking girl gave Tudor an exasperated look. "I had a better job, but the royal navy don't like girls working their ships."

Miss Smith blinked. "And what does that have to do with you trying to lighten my pocket?"

"Obviously, since I'm out of work, I'm looking for a new ship to work for, preferrably english-speaking without the king's flag."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"I think that severly lowers your options then, doesn't it?" Tudor said with a quirked brow.

"WHY THE HELL DO YE THINK I'M STEALING STUFF!!" She yelled frustratedly, then added in a more mumblish tone. "Or trying to anyway." A look akin to a sulk crossed her pointed features.

Tudor had to repress a smile. She had an idea, and catching the lad's eyes through the window, and motioning for them to come outside, she looked back down at the girl. "What's your name?"

"Callie . . .no wait, you probably want me surname - that's Moore."

"Well Callie Moore, what do you know of work aboard ships?" She said, and started walking, still clutching Callie's hand and motioning for the powder monkeys to follow.

"Five years in the navy - where the hell are we going? - before they found out I was a girl - then the past year I've been a . . . uh . . . coin collecter on shore here."

Tudor didn't explain, just continued her path down to the docks and back to the Watch Dog.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill looked up as the man and woman entered the room. After a moment he recognized the man as the one he'd seen with the French officer earlier, the woman he'd never seen before. He swallowed hard if he was french this was going to be interesting, while Bill bore no ill will towards any man based on his nation, Nathan on the other hand was terrified of the French. Bill gathered his breath, wet his lips and spoke

"Beggin' yer pardon sar, but might ye be the surgeon?"

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*Her eyes were red and heavy from lack of sleep in the last few days. She had a decison. . .a decison that would change her life for ever, and now finally had the answer. "Simon would you please tell the Captain that I wish to speak to him when he has a free moment please."

"Yes, Miss Kendra." *Before he left with his task he gave he shoulders a gentle squeeze of reassurance

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Excuse me a moment, Gentlemen." was all he managed as he left the ward room.  He left behind the Quartermaster in the awkward position of maintaining the confused gathering.

::Mr. Lasseter watched as his captain departed the company of souls gathered, then slowly looked about as all eyes appeared to be on him... This caused a slight irritation, which in turn caused him to do a mindless thing, his hands came about and found themselves on familiar ground - the hilt of sword and grip of pistol... ::

Well Gentlemen... While My Captain takes a moment... would you care for refreshment? Wine with you?

::He looked about the room, a look of inquiry in his eyes and a smile on his lips.... As expected, Capitaine Fournier was the first to respond...::

"Merci..."

::Then the rest followed his example... Mr. Lasseter took it upon himself to serve, as the Steward was ashore... He opened one of the bottles of the fine french wine that had been "procured" earlier, let it breath for a moment before pouring a glass and handing it to each man.... pouring his own glass, he raised it to them....::

Slainte.... To your health, Gentlemen....

::A smile slowly found it's way across Capitaine Fourniers face as he slowly nodded and tilted his glass to his lips, once they had all drunk the toast, a bit of relaxation was had by most... the young frenchman Chanault was a stone... he followed the way of honour, yet his expression had not changed since he stepped into this room... Dorian gave him a smile and a nod, to which he simple returned the nod... This made him wonder if he was a stiff, cold sort of fellow... one of those who had lost part of themselves due to some terrible happening they had lived through, or if he was just bred into being that way.... Mr. Lasseter shrugged it off for the moment, and turned to Capitaine Fournier and Leftenant Lamaire...::

Capitaine, Leftenant... Not to bore you with such, but my curiosity has the better of me.... Le Requiem.... She has lovely lines from what I've seen, how does she sail?

::His sailor's query lightened the mood further as they waited for the return of Capitan Brand/Hollande, Fournier and Lamaire took turns praising the swiftness and manuverablilty of the ship at their command, Lasseter interjected other nautical questions as well, so that the banter continued, all the while the young frenchman did nothing but listen and occasionally drink from his glass...::

[William Brand]

William arrived at the surgery even as the question left Bill Flint's lips. A bemused look played over Armand's face at once and he seemed too amused to say anything. Tempest's face changed not at all, except for a solitary eyebrow that went up ever so slightly.

William broke the brief silence by addressing Tempest from behind. "Doctor."

She turned but a little, already eyeing Nathan with a practiced eye. She had begun a diagnosis of him the moment she had entered. His palor spoke of illness, but it also spoke of other things and Tempest was aware enough to be wary of other things.

"A moment if you please." William continued.

She turned and looked at him then. Maybe it was something in his tone. He had never asked for a moment of her time in quite that tone. It was strange in a way she couldn't put a finger on, like a bell striking an entirely different note than before. She stepped out of the surgery and William leaned further into the room a moment.

"Mister Flint, I will send for you shortly."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The well practiced eye scrutinized the subtle nuances of William's carriage; the unsaid things that could reveal much. The pixieish feature kept an expression of neutrality as he turned from the door and closed it to the satisfied sound of latch finding hold. Tilting her head minutely to the right, she spoke softly.

"To what may I owe the honour of your company and summons?"

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Just as Bill issued the query Captain Brand appeared. He addressed the woman standing behind the man Bill had taken for the surgeon. When he called her doctor both Bill and Nathan's jaws hit the floor. Bill was so stunned that it barely registered that William had spoken to him.

"Whu...uh, Aye sar, standing fast"

This was turning out to be a very strange day. He hoped what ever it was the captain wanted it would be quick, he still meant to have words with Tommy and Jonas.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

One would have to be blind not to notice the reaction given forth by the two new arrivales to medical dominion. A hint of smile tickled the very edges of Armand's lips as he watched on with amusement. The accent gave away some idea of origin in regard to the dueo, and was filed away in mental catalog.

The Gascon stepped over to the well used desk occupying the chamber and took seating, though he sight never strayed away overlong from the two men in near proximity.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill regained his senses enough to realize the lady doctor had left and the gentleman had sat down at the small desk occupying the room. The man was beginning to unerve Bill.

"What in the nine hell's he starin' at?" thought Bill.

He sorely wished his weapons were not in the armoury at the moment. Bill's skill with his hands was unmatched thus far, but he would prefered to at least have his small knife. He began to scan the room for anything to be used as a weapon in case this got ugly.

Just then his train of thought was interrupted as Nathan emptied his guts into the nearest catch bucket.

[CaptainCiaran]

(Walking through the gun deck, Ciaran sees John McGuinty polishin' the cannons)

"Arr, git 'em as shiny as the noonday sun, laddie!" Ciaran laughs.

"Indeed I shall, mate. This be an important task and I will do me very best, I will," says McGuinty with a determined look on his face.

(Ciaran stands on the opposite side of the Cannon called Zeus that the lad be polishin' on. He leans in and whispers,)

"Listen, John. Have ye seen these new hands aboard ship today? Two of 'em jes knocked me down as they were runnin' from either the Galley or the Armoury. I've met another fella called Flint, er Bill Flint it is. Seemed alright, abeit a bit nervous. Lad, somethin' ain't right here. I can't put me finger on it, but it's jes a feelin'. So, watch yer back, John. I'm jes warnin' ye to keep both yer deadlights open at all times."

(Ciaran pats his friend on the back and as he starts walkin' away says,)

Arrgh, ye missed a spot there, lad.

(McGinty cusses and throws the rag at the lookout)

[William Brand]

The well practiced eye scrutinized the subtle nuances of William's carriage; the unsaid things that could reveal much. The pixieish feature kept an expression of neutrality as he turned from the door and closed it to the satisfied sound of latch finding hold. Tilting her head minutely to the right, she spoke softly.

"To what may I owe the honour of your company and summons?"

He drew her into the galley and asked Mister Gage for the room, which he gave up at once, though he there was no mistaking the pause and surprise that proceeded his departure. In all of his years as a cook, no one had ever asked him to leave while they took a conference in the galley.

When he was gone and the door was closed, William drew her as close to him as he ever had, apart from dancing.

"I believe that I have made an error in judgement. In the wake of the Don's generosity and in an effort to fill the empty hammocks aboard, I have extended shelter to four castaways. And...in doing so...I may have put you in harm's way."

While she absorbed this information with a slow nod that implied neither agreement or complete understanding, he stood away from her and looked at Tempest for the first time with an altogether different aspect.

"When we first met I kept a great many secrets to myself, careful not to speak too much of those threats that have shadowed me these many years. I have always been too aware that my position as Captain of this ship could cause great harm to anyone found in my company. There are powers both great and small that would hang most of these men and women simply for serving on the same ship. Though some of them would no doubt hang for their very own individual offenses."

William shook his head. He was smiling now for many reasons that he couldn't adequately explain to himself, let alone Tempest. She was smiling too, perhaps from a mix of similar thoughts and emotions.

"All this time I believed...perhaps arrogantly believed...that I was the greatest threat to this crew if we should fall into certain enemy hands..."

Her smile changed just a little.

"...and now I am not as certain as I was...that this is true."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Bill regained his senses enough to realize the lady doctor had left and the gentleman had sat down at the small desk occupying the room. The man was beginning to unerve Bill.

"What in the nine hell's he starin' at?" thought Bill.

He sorely wished his weapons were not in the armoury at the moment. Bill's skill with his hands was unmatched thus far, but he would prefered to at least have his small knife. He began to scan the room for anything to be used as a weapon in case this got ugly.

Just then his train of thought was interrupted as Nathan emptied his guts into the nearest catch bucket.

There lie a strange tension in the chamber's air, an intense wieght that was reminesent of the semi-calm just before the call for "charge". Armand and the Colonist that William had named Flint, eyed each other with wary composure; and the Gascon wondered if the other would be so bold as to call action. He glanced away, keeping the two in peripheral and was thankful that kindred was not in proximity. The main gauche slumbering under overcoat's shroud would be of ready service if things took a turn and making as if to scratch lower back itch, he was assured of its existance.

It was then that Flint's companion gave further proof to the condition of his illness. The sudden purging startled Armand's concentration, and the dark grey sights cut quickly to the malady cursed man. Without conscience thought, the Frenchman moved from seating with fluid grace, ignoring the man called Flint ,to obtain cloth dipped in water basin. Cloth procured, he moved past Bill with a side glance of warning and mopped the sweat glistened features of Nathan's face.

This was the first time that Armand was close enough to realize just how ill the companion was. The pastiness and palor of flesh had been obvious even from afar, but the reddish hue that graced the soft flesh below the man's eyes and the inferno of body temperature that radiated from his form were not welcome signs. With a waving of hand, Armand gestured to Flint to move to the side and out of the way.

Bill did not attend at first, an action or lack there of, which was a mixture of stubborness and loyalty to his comrade. Armand's normal manner of easy going nature was tested with Bill small act of defiance and in response, the grey sights narrowed slightly.

"Monsieur...Flint, was it not? You have to move away for you are under foot. I cannot be of aid to your friend if I have to dance around you. I suggest you take seating over there."

The Gascon waved distractedly to the desk as if dismissing a subordinate. He returned his center on Nathan and expelling heavy breath, moved back to the basin to refresh cloth.