Pyrates of the West Coast

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

(doin what it be I does best, cuppin me hands so as to announce the news) All hands on deck all hands on deck the Quartermaster has been retrieved and is headed here straight away. Petee keep yer guns on the jungle behind them as they are fer certs on the way in what looks to be double time! Hawks and two other are rounding up the dinghy keep an eye on them as well! I'm coming down and need a lookout to replace me up here would one of you find Constance. Grammercy!

[Pirate Petee]

*standing on the forecastle looking down on the gun deck below.*

Well all the repairs are almost done, everything is looking ship shape.

*smiling*

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I am so glad that I am not one of that poor barges rowers! Damn they been rowing for eternity and seems they arent making any headway! at all! Better say a prayer: God give our friends extra enduring strength and a newfound love for pain. See that the good captain pulls through and we will do our best to serve in your name. Amen

[Rummy3]

Concern plagues the faces of everyone aboard as we cross the cove and make our aproach to the Watch Dog. Mr Lasseter be obviously filled with deep thought at the present. Such a cloud of grief hanging over us.

At last we are within reach of our ship~

[The Doctor]

:: The barge bumps agains the side of the ship after our swift, wordless, seemingly endless trek across the cove. The crew attached the winch lines to the boat, and a baording net was cast over the side to allow passage back to the Watch Dog. Mr. Lasseter, followed by the other passengers, boarded first. The barge crew went about readying the boat for retrieval, and Jack slowly made his way back on board, nursing his wounded leg.

Mr. Lasseter went straight to Monsignor Diego. They exchanged hushed words, then both went below to the Infirmary. Jack continued to direct the barge crew, but it all felt so far away, as if someone else was speaking. He felt weary, and, for the first time in a very long time, useless. ::

Bo'sun! Full sail and get us out of here. Two miles straight out, then heave to. We'll drop anchor there. Everyone else! Make us dark, if you will. No lights on deck, nor near the gun ports. Not even match nor pipe.

Mr. Youngblood! Load the guns, please. Double charge and double shot, but do not run them out. Have your men stand at the ready in case we have more company.

Beyond that, no one is to act without direct orders from the Quartermaster. Am I understood?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The irritation that plagued her inner thoughts had no consideration to hide outer vissage of body language or facial expression. The Surgeon's mind eye coursed two tracks in rapid sequence. The foremost being her deep concern for the man and situation that lay before her, the second the semi-checked anger that brewed over the recent event of wanton actions. With perfect choriography, six storm lanterns swung gently from the latched hooks above the Captain's prone posture. His pallid form contrasted intermittently by the wide leather straps of sheep skin padding securing legs, arms and torso to the plank table support, as smears of scarlet hue screamed contrast to the remains of the Surgeon's cotton shirt, as well as her tanned flesh.

Mopping the glisten of sweat from her brow, the Surgeon tossed the once off white cloth to the surface of table nearby. She glanced to where it landed upon the fine craftmanship of German surgical tools then move around to look once more upon the gaping tear of powder-burned flesh.

Resettling the small oval spectacles upon nose bridge ballance, she leaned closer to inspect. The bleeding had been staunched, but the loss of blood that had occured left her smallish brow creased with concern...And that concern was the least of those that tugged her concience.

Cleansing the affected areas immediately after the Captain's arrival, she had inspected the nature of the wound's presence. The bleeding had been a problem, the larger bearing was the shattered remains of ball shot nestled pretty as you please within William's Supraspinatus muscle. And nestled it was, buried deep and tightly wedged into an area surrounded on three sides by a bone fortress comprised of Acromion, Clavical and Scapula. The shot ball had traveled hap hazard, entering his chest to bounce the clavical and fracture, a quarter of it to continue thru by way of pectoralis major and exited. Inwardly, she worried of the damage done to tendon and ligament, to the aray of supraclavicular nerves.

She stepped back, rubbing her temples and paying no mind to the red that coated hands and arms from the labor finished thus far. The twined demons that taunted her were those of heavy wieght. To proceed with the needed surgery now could shock the Captain's body as a after effect of weakness and bloodloss calling a very untimely death to the front...The counter would be to allow some time for regaining of stregnth, but that had its possible consequence, as well. The longer the ball shot was allowed to remain, the higher the chance of Necrobiosis taking toll...This could call into play the very same out come as the first.

Moving away to the chest that contained bandaging, she paused to notice familiar scrawl of ink laid to paper and therein lay the explination for Armand's absence. Exhaling heavily, she procured what was needed from the chest, and returning to William's side gazed down upon the pale yet peaceful expression he wore. A hint of smile played her lips briefly before she continued on to the duties of bandaging. Speaking softly, as though he could hear in current state, she opted...

"Today is not your time to enter that gentle night....For we have battles yet to wage, you and I....And those shall remain for another day, as well...."

[Cut-throat]

After being briefly filled in on the horrible events that occurred while he was knocked unconscious, Johnson quickly wiped the blood from his brow. His wounds were minor but the pain in his heart for his Captain was immense. Silently swearing a wrathful and bloody revenge, Johnson turned and began examining his beloved swivel gun, " Yer Maker ".

" Maker " lass, it seems that ye pulled through better than me. Good girl ! ". Cut-throat began gently running his hand down the length of the barrel. " Now what say we load ye up good an tight an prepare ye to take men's lives, aye ? They won't be catchin' ol' Cut unconscious twice. Now it be me turn to introduce 'em to hell. No matter what god they pray to, when I get through with 'em, they'll be in so many pieces, I'll send 'em to all of 'em ! ".

[Jonathan Hawks]

Concern plagues the faces of everyone aboard as we cross the cove and make our aproach to the Watch Dog. Mr Lasseter be obviously filled with deep thought at the present. Such a cloud of grief hanging over us.

At last we are within reach of our ship~

"Lass, we best hurry afor she makes way to the sea. By the look o things, Mr Lasseter gave order ta move the ship er go after what be a threat us. Sees ow they all be runnin bout and the sails are comin inta place. We best be runnin ta get on her afor we be left ashore. And i'fn that be the case, get yer weapon ready ana stay close ta me as we make way back ta the cove fort. Now, run to the dingy!!"

Rummy and Mr Hawks hurridly get to the small boat and row to the ship. As they come on board, everyone is running about at their posts making her ready to cast off. Seeing Mr Lasseter, Jonathan makes his way to him and chimes in.

"Mr Lasseter, sir, Rummy and I just We be ready made it back in tyme. What be yer orders fer yer carpenter and smithy?"

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*Makes her way on deck with Simon's help, her left eye is red a puffy -a splinter piece of wood was the cause of the irritant* "I told you Miss, to stay be low till the fighten was over."

"Oh, I am all right. Stop treating my like a baby. I need to see if my expertise is required."

"You need to have your eye looked at."

"I can see just fine, it is my eyelid that is red, besides the doctor is working

[CaptainCiaran]

(Dawn this morning finds Ciaran climbing up to relieve Swan from her night watch. Thank God it had been a quiet night, and as the two lookouts change places, Ciaran is relieved to see nothing unusual on the horizon.)

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Kendra, many of the sails need repair we took many a volley through the yarn and fabric now reveals passages certain to disrupt any needed speed on the wind patches at the ready be our most certain need. grammercy

Turns to the just returning Quartermaster, Dorian Sir You have the ship the captain took one musket shot in the chest he suffered much blood loss and is unconcious, The Surgeon is attending with ernst. It was as bizarre a scene never the likes of which I believe the crews entirty had witnessed least of all me sir. It was a chapter from hells own bowels.

Let us not tarry and go below, I'll continue on the way to the infirmery.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Let us not tarry and go below, I'll continue on the way to the infirmery.

Aye Monsignor, but hold yer tongue fer now... We'll talk later...

::the QM with the Monsignor in tow make their way to the sick bay, where Armand, armed with Pistol, Musket and Sword stands as guard at the door...::

Armand, thank you.... We'll be seein' Th' Cap'n an' th' Surgeon... on one else enters wi'out my 'r Tempest's permission...

::He lays a hand on Armands' shoulder as they pass into the ward..::

Hello.... How...how is th' Cap'n?

:: Dorian looks over the captain's still form, some relief gleened at seeing him breathing evenly, and not in the fevered state he had seen many a man in after being shot down...

The surgeon, looks up at the two gentlemen who have entered her domain, the anger and frustration held in check behind her eyes... she informs them of what she has found out of the captain's wounds, she tells them of the delema at hand, the possibilities of the future, both light and dark...::

Thank ye, Lass... I shall leave ye to yer work... pass the word if ye need anything..... anything for th' Cap'n.... anything a'tall.... I shall be on deck....

::He reaches over and places his hand on her shoulder, gives a gentle squeeze, then turns and departs...

Up to the main deck, and aft to the Quarterdeck...

Mr. Mad_Jack!!! Come aft! I wish to speak to you...

[Pirate Petee]

*hands clasped behind his back, he walks the gun deck inspecting each and evry gun. Making sure that they are all loaded with double charge and that all the barrel pulgs are installed so the powder stays nice and dry.*

[The Doctor]

:: Jack stands at the ship's rail, going over the events the past day again and again in his mind. Mr. Lasseter's call breaks his reverie ::

Aye, sir! On my way.

:: Jack pauses to tighten the makeshift bandage around his knee in an attempt to lessen his limp, then makes for the quarterdeck ::

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Jack comes hobbling up onto the Quarterdeck, reporting to the QM::

Aye Jack..... Hmm... do ye 'ave a last name, Lad? Callin' ye Jack alla th' time...

::shakes head::

Well... All ye told me last night... ye 'member any more details? Tell me when ya do.... Now.... I 'ave much ta do, much ta figure out..... from what I sees, ye done good and been right proper an' loyal... So, I's gonna shift a weight offin' me shoulders...

::The QM pulls a ring of keys out of a pocket in his wesket, handing them to Jack...::

I hearby make ye th' Master 't Arms... these be the keys ta th' Armoury... yer responsible fer all th' swords, muskets, pistols, pikes, an' axes aboard, be they ships compliment 'r wot been brought aboard... On'y ye, th' Cap'n n' meself 'has access ta there...

Now, back ta yer duties.... I'll be in thought for a spell....

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*With her giant friends help they take down the sails. "This will take most of the day Monsingor bbut it will be done." * With that the sail is taken below and both her and Simon set to work.

[The Doctor]

:: Jack takes the ring of keys from Mr. Lasseter, and fights off a look of complete surprise. He pulls himself up a little straighter before teh Quartermaster ::

Aye, sir! And thank you. You'll not be disappointed, I assure you. If ye have a current inventory of the Armoury, it would be most helpful. When you can get to it, of course. I'll make certain to procure the arms from our newest crewmate and add them to the inventory.

As for a last name, sir... I'm certain I had one at some point. Thanks to a bit of misfortune a few years ago, I have no recollection of what it might have been. They've been calling me "Mad Jack" or just plain "Jack" ever since my rescue.

Again, thank you, sir. I'll be back to my duties straight away.

:: He begins to turn, then stops ::

Captain William, sir... Any news?

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: He begins to turn, then stops ::

Captain William, sir...  Any news?

::The QM clenches his hands at Master Jack's question, then relaxes..::

He's...... restin' peaceably... Surgeon's doin' her best....

I's sure he gonna be fine..... gonna be fine....

Off ye go, lad...

:: as Mr. Jack heads off the quarterdeck, Dorain turns away from the ship, facing out to sea.... he takes a very deep breath coveres his face with his hands, exhales, then slides his hands down, bringing then to rest at his back, clasping his hands together.... Turning back to the ship, he notices the Captain's Steward standing by the main hatch, staring off... He walks to the rail and calls down....::

Cap'n's Steward... Smith, is it? Be so kind as ta join me up 'ere.... come on...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

* scratching her head, pulling at her red curls she slowly makes her way towards the quatermaster* Aye sir. *it sounded more like a question*

[Pirate Petee]

*Inspecting the twelve pounder, pulling on the rope tied to the morring ring to make sure its tight. Checking elevation.*

Tis a good gun.

*Pulls out his knife and starts engaving in the side of the carrige. "leviathan"*

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: the Steward climbs the stairs to the quarterdeck and the QM walks over to him ::

Aye Lad.... ye look out o' sorts as it were.... I need ta know a few things.... what 'appened on the ship? I'll be askin' ye, an' e'eryone else ta tell me wot they saw n' did... Please be ernest...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Having left the surgeons temple of purpose and poise. I take seat outside the wards door. (bowing me head for prayer) Heavenly father, my reflections of one days events do so haunt the core of my own faith. I have hummed and drummed about these thoughts now for the likes of two days and nay have more confusing an issue in my world been so inadvertantly turned topsy turvey. God you are great and God you are all encompassing in love, faith and forgivness. But lord hell hath no fury of that which the likes of mine eyes ever seen afore, and can only pray nay not ever to be again. I shall pass this off as the work of the devil incarnate himself, allowing the Captain the toil of this bloody handiwork from the stench of hells fires. I said afore, we have met the enemy and we have jammed our fist down his throat and ripped out his heart. Equal to the task once. though lord this seemingly crippling effect of the captains injury being so critical by nature truly needs your eyes and attentions to bring him though so as he can once again lead us together in your name. Amen

[Pirate Petee]

*After inspecting the guns topside, he makes his way down below deck to inspect the ammo stores.*

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: The Steward looks at the QM, his face drawn... swallowing hard, he opens his mouth and nothing but a squeak comes forth... looking somewhat unnerved, he clears his throat, the QM lays a hand on his shoulder..::

S'alright... calm down... mayhaps later, when ye feel more up ta it... I jest need ta know all tha' 'appened... all tha' ye remember... go see th' cook, ye look peekid...

::The QM sends the Captain's Steward away, hoping that he will collect his thoughts.... Looking out over the deck, seeing many other of the crew looking slightly forlorn, he decides it is time to try to get thing back to something normal::

*Grabbing a speaking horn*

ALL HANDS ON DECK, ALL HANDS ON DECK!!!!

::soon all hands assemble, looking up at the quarterdeck::

A'right lads n' lasseys.... as things bein' as they may, we need ta get 'r ship back ta Bristol Fashion..... th' deck needs ta be holystoned, the pump an' hoses need ta be rigged fer hosin' e'erythin' down... riggin' an' sails ta be mended............. Officers! get yerselves an' yer respective crews ta their duties.... Lookouts! I need yer eyes ta be sharp as ever!

That is all...

To yer duties!

[William Brand]

Tempest was in the midst of a work both delicate and brutal. She stood bent over the canvas of the damaged Captain with a brow furrowed and a knife worn to nothing from continuous use and sharpening. She plied it against the torn skin with a mixture of misgiving and perfect, practiced calm.

These were the careful minutes. These were the precious moments of decision and patience that a doctor dreads and lives for.

All about her were the instruments of her work, but better than any of these were the intruments of her will, her mind and her gift. They lay at her disposal now, each ready to be used. Every one of them, honed to an edge better than that bistoury in her hand.

She was angry. More angry than she had been in some time. Here was the finest example of waste under her knife that she had seen in an age. How often had it been this way...this carrion art of destroying the body and putting it back together again? Here was a Captain, a friend, now all but a corpse.

It was always so much easier to blast the body apart than to put it back together again.

Then...the tempest was past. The eye of the storm, that perfect calm of will and decision, descended like a quiet and she was reduced to a perfect instrument of healing.

. . .

She began to cut and even Atropos laid aside her shears to watch the work.