Pyrates of the West Coast

[Callie Moore]

Callie jumped to her feet with a shreik. "I'll kill yeh all! I'll slice yeh and ... uh... " She suddenly realized that it was only Miss Smith and not the enemies she had just been dreaming about. She stared blankly for a second, her slight frame swaying from having stood too quickly.

"Sorry, Miss... ah... I forget your name, sorry."

"Smith."

"Right. Yeah, sorry, I sort of found myself lost and well I'm not really sure how I got asleep so I didn't make it to... eh... where was I supposed to go?"

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor smiled to herself. "Fiesty one, aren't ya?" She asked, still chuckling to herself over Callie's threats of death. "Just call me Smith, if ya like. Easier to remember. And don't feel bad - was mostly my fault for not showing you around proper. Here, grab your things and I'll show you where you can bunk." She said, and stood paitently to wait for Callie to recollect her bag that she had dropped.

[William Brand]

William crossed the short distance to where Callie and Miss Smith were standing. He cuffed the young girl at once, and she might have gone down if not for Tudor, who caught her by the arm.

"What the devil?" William hissed at them both. Mister Lasseter had come up almost at once behind William and he too looked perturbed by the shouts of killing on what had been a silent and orderly deck moments before. "Almost thirty men topside and silent..and now this outburst. Take your yelling below."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Helping Callie keep her balance after her slight disorientaion after the captains rebuke, Tudor smiled grimly, leading the young girl below. "Don't let your first run in with the Captain scare you much. He's a good captain . . . there must be more going on then we ouselves are aware of. C'mon, keep up, I'll show you were to bearth yourself." She said, cursing her own distraction. "How on earth did you sleep through all the fracas anyway?" Tudor asked, the thought finally occuring to her. She looked to Callie, who just wore a look of confusion as to what 'fracas' meant.

[William Brand]

After the two had gone below, William turned to the Quartermaster and gave the first of many orders. "Let's rouse the lads and lasses of the second watch, Mister Lasseter. All hands topside and prepared to put her to sea, if you please. We'll make her ready ere the runners return."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye-aye, Cap'n....

::Mr. Lasseter nodded and touched his forelock, turned and headed to the crews berth, roused the crew and instructed them of the coming departure... Most all had a sort of nervous energy about them, that anticipation of heading out to sea after the tedium of too much time in port. Mr. Lasseter smiled to himself, also glad to be givng the orders to make ready to sail... he headed back topside and informed those who were to be coming off their watch as well, then made his way back to where William was standing...::

Crew's been inform'd ta make ready ta set sail... I think most all be more'n ready ta be off...

::He smiled a weary smile, and put a foot on the combing of the main hatch...::

[William Brand]

"Aaaaaye." William said in a long sigh. "Thank you, Mister Lasseter. Wet them all with a quarter ration of rum when we're to sea. They've done us a good service while at port."

"Aye, Cap'n." Mister Lasseter returned, both in agreement and partly in his own good humor for the rum.

"They'll breeze off that rum before long. I have not seen a crew so anxious for the sea in a long time." William watched them spilling topside and he looked up for the tenth time since the runners departed to see if Ciaran had sighted them. Ciaran shook his head at the unvoiced inquiry.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter stood beside the Captain for a short time, he needed something to take the edge off while waiting so he decided on an occupation...::

Cap'n. I'll be on the quarter... need ta update th' logbook...

::William nodded his assent, and with that Dorian headed aft. once he reached the binnacle cabinet he opened the side and brought out the logbook. Paging through it he noted the activities of the last few days. laying the book flat on top of the binnacle he then pulled out the inkwell and pen held in a nook. Unstoppering the inkwell he dipped in the nib, and in the dim light wrote out several lines, thus updating the happenings onboard the Watch Dog. He did however, omit the intregue that had occured with the french spy, the only note to reveal anything was a simple statement that of the four new able seamen brought aboard one Tommy Halsey decided not to sign on... He gave a crooked smile once finished, let the ink dry a moment before shutting the tome and replacing all in their respective nitches... He rubbed his eyes and stiffled a yawn then looked towards shore, hoping to see the two couriers returning to the ship...::

[CaptainCiaran]

(Just as his replacement were climbin' up the ropes, Ciaran spots two figures racin' back toward the ship.)

"Captain, here come McGuinty and Fitch."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::The QuarterMaster had started to pace the larboard side of the quarter when Mr. Ciaran called out to the Captain, reporting that he sighted the two lads main their way to the wharf... He stopped pacing and turned his eyes to the seaside town, hoping to catch sight of the men. Sure enough, there they were making good time down the main roadway... Turning away from shore he stepped to the rail forward...::

All Hands aloft! Prepare ta loose th' sails! Ain't got but a breath o' wind so we may be riggin' out th' Cutter ta pull us outta th' bay...

[William Brand]

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Middle Watch begins (0000)

The eighth bell had sounded and second watch was ten minutes along when Ciaran called down from above. William went immediately to the rail to note the quick return of the sprinting figures.

"Thank you, Mister Ciaran."

Mister Lasseter appeared at this time and barked orders before joining with Mister Badger who was administering orders to the crew above and at the waist. They conversed at length about the necessity for the cutter to be put out, but Mister Badger seemed confident he could stir this 'Sigh of a wind' as he put it, and they both agreed to test the lads aloft with some delicate alterations on the sails.

Mister Warren came up to the wheelhouse and stood with Nigel Brisbane at either side of the hand wheel at the ready. Mister Pew had thinned the number of armed men to four, and even these lads stood hard by to take up any slack where it was necessary.

While the crew scrambled to keep up with the Bosun and Quartermaster, the two runners came aboard and went straight to the Captain. Mister Lasseter joined William at the stairway of the Quarterdeck where McGinty and Fitch confirmed that the Captain's letter was in the hand of a junior magistrate and that it was to be delivered to the Don as early as possible. William thanked them for the risks and responsibility they had shouldered in that short errand and asked them to join their fellow crew members at the lines.

The Captain and Quartermaster made their way to the quarterdeck and stood together like mismatched chess pieces with their hands behind their backs. They exchanged ready smiles and William gave the much anticipated order.

"Take her out, Mister Lasseter."

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Take her out, Mister Lasseter."

::The QuarterMaster smiled...::

Aye-aye Cap'n...

Hands Aloft! Loose th' sails! Hamds ta braces! Loose th' moorin' lines!

Bo'sun, two points ta starb'd if ye please...

::The flurry of activity comenced with the orders given, it looked as if an anthill were under attack and the defenders were swarming all over...

As the sails were let loose, the breath of wind just barely caused the sails to billow out, lines were sheeted home and the sails began to draw ever so slightly... the ship creaked and began to heal as they started to make headway, just enough for steerage...::

Have a care there! trim th' sails finely!

::As the sails were trimmed again, more pressure was exerted on them and the ship became that much more alive... soon they were making almost two knots...::

Mr. Badger... excellent... well done... my compliments...

::He turned to the Captain and smiled...::

What headin' once we be clear o' th' shallow's, Cap'n?

[William Brand]

"We shall need to circumnavigate a portion of La Margarita..." William said, pausing to gage the wind. "East by Northeast, if you please. We'll adjust her course a mile off."

"Aye, Cap'n. East, Northeast, Mister Badger!"

The orders went on down the line from the Quartermaster to the Bosun and from the Bosun to the watches. The crew, some tired from waking and some tired from the lingering watch duty before, moved as well as any fresh replacements. The Watch Dog, moving sluggishly at first, gaining speed by gradual but exponential increments. She was soon moving at a swift enough pace for everyone to note the decline of the shoreline.

Over the first half mile gained, Nigel Brisbane gave the wheel over to Mister Warren. William dismissed the Coxswain's Mate from duty as he did others, by passing orders forward to thin the ranks of the previous watch to their waiting hammocks below. As the Watch Dog gained speed and her management became easier, the previous watch retired to rest.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter watched the wooden world around him, and looked out into the darkness around it... He had viewed the charts of La Margarita so often as of late that he didn't need to consult them to make any course adjustments. Just by gageing the change of their position by looking at the stars and back at the lights of the island he managed the ship out into the open ocean...::

[CaptainCiaran]

(His watch ended, Ciaran came down to the deck, as the Watch Dog began her outward journey. Arr, it felt good to be movin', to be leavin' La Margarita behind. As the ship made her way out o'the harbour, Ciaran stood at the railing, watchin' as the lights of the town became jes flickers, twinklin' like the stars o'r head.

Deeply the lookout breathed in the salty aire.

He could see that the Captain were busy discussin' matters with the Quartermaster, Masters Fitch and McGuinty, and others who demanded his attention. Ciaran walked close enough fer William to see him and simply nodded at the Captain, a gesture to let him know that Ciaran would be available at the Captain's convenience. He then walked back to the railing as the ship's momentum gained.)

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the ship headed out into deep water, the movement changed. The ocean swells became apparent, the breeze freshened and changed direction. The change actually helped with the next change of direction...::

Mr. Warren... North-noreast, a quarter north if you please...

"North, northeast, a quarter north, Aye Sir..."

::Mr. Warren repeated the order and began turning the wheel...::

Hands to braces!

::The order given, the crew on deck stood to their stations, once the new course had been set, the sails were trimmed to their best qualities... Now they would stay on this tack for some time, until they rounded the island to the west , then another course adjustment.... by dawn they would be somewhere between La Margarita and La Blanquilla, if that's where the Captain still had plans to go...::

[William Brand]

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Second Bell of Middle Watch (0100)

"Mister Ciaran." William called, motioning the man over to him.

"Aye, Captain."

William looked the man up and down and shook his head. "By my reckoning you haven't slept since this morning. You and I are doubling and tripling our watches of late."

"Aye." Ciaran agreed, not sure how he could deny it.

"I want it to stop. You have been the very eyes of the Watch Dog at times and those eyes need resting. You'll keep your watches and your rest when they come, sir, or I'll have you shackled in the cable tier."

"My apologies, Captain." Ciaran said, embarassed, but proud of the compliment amidst the rebuke.

William waved this apology off. "As I said, I am as guilty as any other these last few days."

"Aye." Mister Lasseter agreed over-loudly from his place nearby.

William tried not to smile and failed, nodding. "Now off with you. We will be forced to rename the main top to 'Ciaran's Nest' if you spend any more time upon it, and it doesn't belong to you."

"Aye-aye." Ciaran said with a hint of a smile and he sauntered off to his waiting hammock. William watched the rest of the crew a moment, but with the Quartermaster watching him with a long regard that said 'Well? Why are you still here and not abed?', William relented and gave the deck over to him. He gave orders then to plot a course leading to La Blanquilla as he departed down the companionway leading directly to the Ward Room.

He was almost below when he turned back on the stair and said. "Seven."

"Beg pardon, Cap'n?"

"I was wrong in my count before. We left seven crew members ashore."

William watched Mister Lasseter do the counting in his head before adding a name to the count. "Armand."

William went below, and once he was in his cabin, he climbed into his hammock and laid there a long while in thought. In one long day since returning from the Don's estate he had witnessed more than he cared to. He had returned from the festivities of the Don's estate only to find Jack St. Anthony shot and the Monsignor killed. He had then executed Augustus Muller. He had put to sea to bury Jack and Diego. He had witnessed de la Vega's belongings sold before the mast. They had returned to La Margarita only to bid farewell to seven of their own crew members and to take on new one's with all of their troubles. The French spy Gaultier had come and gone with his treacheries. He had risked all in intrigues only to see Gaultier shot aboard the Watch Dog. And finally, in the end, they had abandoned one man to whatever end the Don would see fit to grant him.

William was never more glad to escape into sleep.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgery

The steady thrum of Neptune's domain coursing down wooden sides acted in accompniment to the soft lilt of flute's homage to Native countrysides and byways. It was an old song, one that had evolved with the passing of time and the render of the player. One that beckoned to lush hill and dell, but most of all, one that spoke of home. Its' title she could not recall offhand, but it reminded her of youth and warm spring days; of dashing chevaliers and simpler times.

As the song faded to end, Raphael set the instrument down carefully upon the seachest lid he was perched upon; reaching for the simple cup near at hand and raised it in salute, proffering merest hint of smile. The standoffishness that Dorian commented upon had thawed shortly after their arrival to present surround. The passing hour had given forth much understanding and revelation betwixt new found companions. There lay much comfort in kindred origins and she suspected that in the strange ways of chemistry, a balance had come into being.

The fife was taken up again, its voice speaking of far away Marseilles and Jacquelyn's thoughts turned to conversation not so far in recent past. Perhaps Jean-Micheale was right, wordings that echoed her brother's own...

They were truths not easily given in to.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Upon returning to the Watch Dog Bill learned that the spy Gaultier was dead and that they were to make sail immediately. Bill did not ask after Henry Walcott knowing that if the man's release had been secured word would have been given of it. He looked sadly at the cost line of La Margarita and whispered a silent prayer for the man. Having returned Nathan and the traitor McCormick to the surgery he felt it was time to do what he did best and immediately sought to make himself and his considerable talents available to Mr. Pew.

[Pew]

::As the ship made it's way back to sea, the ever familiar rise and fall took us each an extra second to regain our bearings.

Eric had spoken with the Captain. A man of few words, save for a boarding party, Eric mentioned his position change aboard the ship. Congratulating him with a strong pat on the back and several swigs from the flask, he and I went about retrieving what muskets and arms were still amongst the crew.

Retreating below decks, we made our way to our cabin, and then to the armoury. Laying the arms upon the chest nearest the door and standing the muskets like soldiers at attention, I opened the armoury door. Eric lit the shaded lantern and his eyes began to widen, just as mine did upon my first viewing of our armaments.

"Eric, tha logbook is inna top drawr o' tha desk. Take a moment yerself ta go o'er the log and make sure tha 'r numbers gonna match tha muskets we jus' brought back, save fer the four tha Mr. Lasseter kept the watch armed wit. I myself will be layin' down fer a catch up on me shut-eye . . 's been a long coupla days . . . ."

With that, Eric nodded and happily began to pour himself over the Armoury log. Dozing off, I could still hear him muttering about the personal arms stores aboard the Watch Dog.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Restlessness kept Tempest from cot's welcoming encompassment. Her guests were all soundly asleep and in some ways she was envious. Chanault had gone over the notes scribed in regard to Nathan and having finished, crossed over to the desk laying the writtings afore her. The Frenchman's index finger indicated specific notation of symptoms recorded as he leaned close over her right shoulder.

"You suspect foul play by means of poisoning?"

Tempest craned her neck in angle to catch his expression, "Oui, il plausible. But I cannot say that I am familliar with its characteristics. Something nags me in memory, just to fleet away as I think I grasp it."

"I believe that I know what causes the malady," he replied softly.

She turned to view her companion more fully, placing her in a nearness that would be considered improperly close in proper circles. Raphael gave no ground in stance, though the mere smile hinted then dissapeared.

"It is an old mixture that was used in small villages for livestock ailments, but administered to a human in quantity, the effect can prove fatal."

"Incroyable..."

The Sphinx glanced to where Nathan rested, "If monsieur has survived this long he will recoup. He is either very strong in constitution or the dosage was bungled."

A tinge of disgust fleeted Raphael's features in response to unvoiced opinions regarding amatures.

"I know of something that will ease discomfort until his body compleates its' rejection of toxin."

Tempest followed Raphael's train of sight until he returned attention to her. Pale jade sights centered on her own of darker hue, the hinted smile returning as he regained full hiegth.

[CaptainCiaran]

"Aye-aye." Ciaran said with a hint of a smile and he sauntered off to his waiting hammock.

(As soon as his body felt the support of his hammock, the lookout was sound asleep.

The Watch Dog did its part, too, gliding effortlessly through the water, rising and falling gently through the waves, rockin' sleepin' crew into blissful slumber.)

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Once they had rounded the east and northern shores of La Margarita, the course was set due west, and if the wind and waves were fair only one other course correction would need to be made to bring them to the isle of La Blanquilla... The QuarterMaster checked their progress at each turn of the glass, using each instrument that could be used on such a night as this. He almost felt bad at having the log line thrown so often, but night travel has plenty of unseen dangers, he needed to keep aware of their position to the best of his ability lest they find themselfs upon shoals, reefs or whatnot... Even with what seemed the almost constant gathering of information it was a quiet time on deck, the wind remained fair, allowing them to carry all sails and a speed of eight knots, even if the winds lessened they would make La Blanquella around dawn... Mr. Lasseter promised himself that he would remain on deck until the isle was sighted, then he would give the deck over to the Captain and retire for some sleep, if possible...

As he looked about the ship, he saw one of the lads come on deck and look around as if he were looking for someone in particular. as he looked aft, Mr. Lasseter recognized the lad as Billy Flint, newly arrived Able Seaman...::

Mr. Flint! Lay aft if you please...

::The Man turned quickly as he heard his name, looked up at the QuarterMaster, then started aft, up the stairs to the quarterdeck... He stopped several paces infront of him...::

"Aye, Sir?"

You are lookin' fer someone in particular, or fer a bit o' work? I had thought after all th' happenin's this past day that you'd find solace in yer hammock...

::Mr. Flint looked at the QuarterMaster with a slightly haunted expression...::

Ahh.... I see... a bit wrestless... well then... have a turn throwin' th' logline next turn o' th' glass... help out wi' th' navigation... what say you ta that? An' when yer ready ta head below, turn it back o'er ta th' lad there.....

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon finally gave in to the wear of the day's events, retiring to ajoining quarters that now seemed so empty. Chanault remained behind in Surgery proper for a half an hour more, then with the assurance that all was secure, pocketed fife and ventured to open decks above.

The hours of the day ruled by Mademoiselle Lune, had always given the Frenchman a calming of the soul. So much so, that the late watches that some dispised greatly were prized by himself. Fournier had recognized this in former times and had granted overseeing of such to the young lieutenant. But things had changed...

Stepping as an echo of shadow to those that existed betwixt lanterns' rule, Raphael chose an area towards the bow and settled. The fife was turned over in slow rotation unconsciecously as his pale eyes roved the frigate's decks and made note of details small and large. With veiled scrutiny, he watched as a hand was singled out and called to stern regions and the company of the vessel's Quartermaster. Words in relation to their conversation could not be taken in at this distance, but body language spoke multitudes.

Breathing in deeply the salt tinged air the fife was brought near, its voice singing to darkened heavens and wind engorged sailcloth the tales of sunkissed meadows in lands far away.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter nodded at Billy Flint, then watched as he walked over to two other lads on the weather side of the quarterdeck who handled the logline. Satisfied that all was well again, he went back to scanning the dark sky, sails and rigging of the ship when the sounds of music whispered on the wind... Someone was playing a pipe of sorts up forward. Dorian wondered if one of the crew had made a purchase of wind instrument ashore, or one of the new lads came aboard with it... He walked to the rail and looked into the darkness to where the music eminated... Finally he saw the shape of a man on the larboard side at the break of the forecastle, almost completely hidden in shadow. Who the musician was could not be told due to his hidden nature, not that it mattered, however Dorian would like to know the musician so as to be able to compliment his playing. For the time he went back to his duties, occasionally straining his ear to hear the soft melody...::