Pyrates of the West Coast

[Captain Jacob Badger]

sorry sah....I do naught know ......there was alot o' shoutin' goin on sah......wait......there was the barge mentioned after the event sah......I think..(creaces brow an' rolls eyes in thought)......nah s'gorn sah....

[William Brand]

William waits a moment longer to see if the Bosun will recall, but when he shakes his head again, William nods.

"Thank you, Mister Badger. We shall be putting in close to shore for the purpose of retrieving the anchor very soon. Please prepare your men for the work of running close ashore, and mind that we have plenty of room to maneuver."

[Pew]

::Passing by Mr. Badger, I make my way pass the bulkhead and up the ladder. Walking upon deck for the first time in what seems to have been an eternity while down below, I look up and feel the rain begin to gently hit my face. 'Tis always a good day to be a pirate::

[Captain Jacob Badger]

Aye sah.....good t' see ye backed away from ol' hobs door sah........dismissed sah?

[William Brand]

"Aye, Mister Badger."

William watches him go and then returns to his own thoughts, and eventually, sleep.

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: having taken to the quarterdeck, looked over some figures in the logbook, and taken a look about with his glass ::

ALL HANDS!!! TOPMEN ALOFT TA LOOSE TH' SAILS!!! ON DECK, PREPARE TA RAISE ANCHOR!!

We be headin' back ta th' cove fer ta get 'r main anchor!

::All hands quickly take to their duties, up in the ratlines, maning the capstan to up anchor ::

Cox'n! make steerage back ta th' cove soon as th' sails fill wi' this light wind....

::the sails start to fill, luff slightly, then go tight::

HAUL AWAY ON TH" ANCHOR!!!

::the crew maning the capstan put their back into it, slowly the pauls clank, then the sea floor give up the hook, easing the sailors need to strain... the ship starts to make headway, slowly...::

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

(movement! I feels the freedom of the hull slide away on the top a glass seas jes after the anchor gots weighed.....Hmmmmmm........ Probably takin me out to deeper seas to walk the plank yar.......)

[Pew]

::Yarrgghhh. Back ta werk . . .::

[Pirate Petee]

Was tha? We movin?

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

(I get up from my table where I'm reading pour myself a glass of water and decide we are headed east clearly with the swell chasing us we are rocking back to front yes we are heading east ..... I scratch my head? That shouldn't be? Headin toward shore? Hmmmm..... A little less than a league out we were? I'm thinkin we should be on sand by now?)

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*Simon had come back on a much needed brake, to check on Kendra, since the "Watch Dog was short handed they needed every man they could get. She too had heard the scuttle butt amongest the crew, but paid no attention, she was there to do her very best for the crew and she would stick to it.

This time when Simon came back his face showed a mixture of tired sadness.* "What is it Simon? Is it the Captain?" *Dispite his own misgivings for the Master At Arms he knew that Kendra would be most upset with him if he held such information from her.* "Nay Miss, it not be the Captain. . .Mad Jack be in the in furmery now and it dosen't look too good from what I am told." *she stared at hi blankly for a moment. Then she looks down at her needle work, "Now see what you made me do. . .I am going to have to start all over again. . .and this is one of the Quater Master's breeches." *a single tear runs down her cheek as she rips out each stich and begins again.*

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Martinique ~ Chateau de la Argente' Lune

Early Evening

Madame Doumerc watched with appraising eye as Capitaine Jean Fournier buckled the hanger back around his waist. Reaching for the boots that had been cast aside hours before, he glanced over his shoulder to survey the seductive sprawl she presented amongst the scatter of documents and drape of silkened bedcover. In Fournier's mind, it was a very tempting thought to put off expected report of duty to Fort de France. Knowing better and being very bound to the wants of his position, Jean pushed the thought aside...there would be time later for such delights of passioned measure.

Rolling to her side, Maguerite pouted in response to Fournier's replacement of shirt and coat.

"Off to play good little soldier?" She purred in playful taunt.

Fournier paused in the straightening of frock to raise a brow, " Such a wicked thing to say, petite chatte...You know that I have no control over what the Gouverneur demands. I have to give full report regarding Chasse de Mer'slast outing...and this is nothing new to you."

She raised herself to lean against the vast quantity of pillows, silken cover sliding down enough to reveal the fullness of upper extremities and sighed heavily.

"Very well...If you must and feel, in your opinion, that the Gouverneaur is a more tantilizing view and better company to be had...than myself." Her smile gave hint of challenge.

The Capitaine pursed his lips to her jibe before answering...

"Non...But, I oft times wonder that it is not a truth for you."

He kept his expression neutral as the barb hit home and the flicker of displeasure traced her features, than dissolved as quickly as it had shown itself. Covering herself from view, Marguerite made busy with the documents laying about the mattress and acted to ignore the other's presence. Fournier, long accustomed to her moods when one upped, stood patiently as the minutes ticked past; a space of fifteen marched by before she looked up and spoke again...

"You say that you spoke with Francois at Desirade and that this was given to you from Monsieur Laurent for my viewing?"

"Oui...The details of the dispatch were not privy to me, but, I agree to bring it to you post haste upon my arrival back in port."

Marguerite mused in brief before speaking again.

"When will you again be leaving to the North, cher?"

Fournier considered...

"In two days time, I should think."

She tapped the envelope she held against her chin...

"Two days...Two days is very little time to handle the proposals contained herein...These requests are not of meager means..." Her voice drifted to quiet as her gaze returned in appraisal of the Capitaine's form. "I am sure that I will see you before you leave, oui?"

Fournier's reply was a smile of carnal acquiesce.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

(in thought) God grant me the patience needed to decide that which is and address correctly that which is not afore wrong directions be taken......

[Dorian Lasseter]

21 June, 1704

4 bells, evening watch, 2200

::The Watch Dog made good progress towards the cove she departed from not two days before, even in the light wind that was blowing, darkness had just descended, and the lights out condition still held on the ship, the QM had two able seamen in the fore chains throwing the lead....::

Well.... he we are... back ta this spot...

Bo'sun, when we reach a depth o' four fathom, heave to, drop th' anchor an' drop all canvas... I need some vittles this late hour...

::The ship in good hands, the Qm heads to the galley::

[Cut-throat]

The cool air snapping past his hardened face, Johnson kept a weather-eye this calm evening. After the past events, he would not be taken by surprise this time. Standing next to his trusty murder gun, Cut-throat adjusted the loaded swivel while his eye was kept on the horizon.

[Pirate Petee]

*hears the anchor chain and wakes up with a start*

Waht was that

*looking up*

The anchor chain, we're stoppin again?

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr Lasseter finds his way to the galley, passing several of the crew trading pleasantries, and seeing an odd look from one or two... the galley seems quiet, the galley stove has but embers, the butchers block has but bread crumbs scattered on it... ::

Christine? Lassey, where ye be? Halloo?

::slowly the QM makes his way through the galley, to where the ships Cook hangs her hammock to find her in said hammock, looking pale and listless::

Aye, Christine.... rise up Lass! *nudge, nudge* Come on now....

:: he goes back into the galley, into one of the pantry stores and after some searching finds an onion, he chops it in two with a cleaver, takes half of it over to the Cook and waves it under her nose ::

Come on, perk up Lass...

[Sealegs Constance]

*Here's the quarter master and helps loosen the sails. Hums a shanty softly to herself. * Aye Aye Sir.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::As the QM tries to wake the Cook, the muffled sounds of orders being given make their way below, followed ba a lurch of the ship, and the sound of the anchor cable running out the hawse hole...::

A'right lass..... sounds as if we be off th' coast, hands'll be sommat idle n' wantin' their vittles... Fer th' love o'... I'll not be cook too!

:: the cook makes some effort to rise, Mr. Lasseter fetches some water, makes her drink it, finds a heel of bread, makes her eat that... ::

I'll see tha' th' surgeon comes round ta see ye... I must be back on deck...

::she nods having come to life abit, smiles... the QM smiles back, turns and starts to walk out, stops and heads into the larder, pulls a ships biscut out and cuts a wedge of cheese, then fills his jack with beer, takes a gulp and heads on deck, up to the quarterdeck....::

Aye Mr. Badger... goode work... we be swingin' on th' hook, aye?

Very well, Iffn' ye would, 'ave the gunners along wi' the night lookouts keep a sharp eye... th' guns be loaded still, have slowmatch a' th' ready, but hide th' coals from sight... when morn comes, the barge crew is to head ta th' cove an' see iffn' th' main anchor c'n be salvaged, NO, make that WILL be salvaged....

An' send word tha' Christine be feelin' low... mayhaps th' Surgeon c'n give 'er a look-see...

:: WIth these orders given, the QM settles in on deck, filling his belly with biscut and cheese, chased with beer... ::

[Christine]

*In between another of one her frightening dreams, she feels someone nudging her. Smiling only weakly up at the QM, just happy to be free from another nightmare. Too weak still to move. She nibbles on the food he hands to her. She can feel it hitting her empty, sick tummy with a thud. She watches him leave and begins to feel bad that she has been stuck in bed all this time. Moving carefully she tries to get up. Realizing too late this is a bad idea, her weak legs give out on her and she hits the ground hard.....blacks out......*

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Somewhat muffled by wooden insulation, the ship's bell tolled the hour from above. 'Fresh air above', Tempest thought and longed momentarily for the wide expanse concealed from view, but, leisurely pursuits had and would be placed into check. There would be time enough in the future and she knew in her heart of hearts, that the only things that were of import were those of the here and now. Loyalties ran deep when lives were laid on the line and she would fight against her ivisible foe until her own last draw of breath expired and ensure that the scales stayed tipped in her favor.

Glancing to where Armand fought to keep from nodding off while seated against the wall, there grew a deep sympathy that filled her inner being, knowing that the Gascon had stood tried and true in the assurance that none would disturb this small world below deck. He had gone above and beyond, never giving regard or complaint to his own needs, such lay the bond betwixt the two. Calling to him, she relayed that he should get some rest, but was met by protest at the idea. Weariness may have plagued his form, but the cool grey of eye focused on her was sharp and clear.

Normally very easy going, Armand could conjure moments of complete stuborness...and this was one of those moments. His refusal lay on the grounds of the odd occurances of late and that he had no desire to be far from her proximity for any great amount of time. There was validity in his point and she did appreciate it, for that matter... but negated it none the less. The Gascon tried to reason from another angle and she could not supress amusement in his effort to draw the Quartermaster's name into it...A stratagy that met with the same success as the last. Realizing that this battle would not sway to his favor, the Frenchman reluctantly gave in to her reasoning, but...only under the condition that the Dragoon pistol would be kept close to her person. Tempest agreed, the deal was struck and with a concerned look over shoulder, Armand left the room.

At his departure, she proceeded in making round of inspection concerning the two other occupants to the Ward's hospitality. Standing over the Captain, she made note to the easy rythem of breath, announcing his secure journey abroad to the relms in rule by Morpheus. The pale of color was once again retreating his features to be replaced by the hint of ruddy hue. The scene that had played out in these very walls had given her great concern in regard to William's steady recovery. Such exhibits of stress would not aid his constitution, but rather drive them in reverse. A time in the future would present itself and she would call a meeting betwixt herself and he in private chambers...At that time she would remind William that said actions of bold injuncture could have done him to the Dealer. With a slight shake of head, she turned to gain the silent company of her other charge.

Procuring a dampened cloth, Tempest gently brushed aside stray hair and dabbed the palid, sweat beaded brow of the Master at Arms and brief furrow creased her daint features in consideration to the seriousness of Jack's condition. The wound had been allowed to sour, a fact that moved its cure from a simple act of surgery to a situation of complexity. Infection had locked its greedy jaws into the damaged tissues, as well as those in the surrounding proximity. Even with the knowledge and the practiced skill that had been administered, the odds remained unchecked and the ante could raise at anytime. If time played her fair, the limb would be salvaged, but the scarring that would occure would never be kind to his eyes.

Gaining seat within the ever present elbow chair, the Sugeon considered the timing of dressing change and treatment to the affliction. She had not dared to close the wound by suture with the first procedure, that finalization would not take place until she was sure that the threat of Necrosis had passed. Thankfully, she mused, whatever deamons that had ravished his unconscience state were now on hiatus. Jack seemed to be resting well outside of the evidence of above normal body temp.

Leaning forward from the high backed support to rest elbow to knee and cheek to palm, she sighed with center of attention to Jack's sleeping vissage...

"You are aware, Mister Samson...We really must not keep meeting in this manner..." She considered for a brief. "Folk will start talking and my, what scandlous whisperings will float the air...."

The Surgeon chuckled, in spite of herself, and returning to former posture, took advantage of circumstance to rest her eyes.

[William Brand]

William woke to find the doctor ministering to the Master-at-Arms, who seemed neither improved or worse than before. He lay in a pale and fitful state of sleep with the good doctor hovering over with care and examination. He watched her eventually retreat back into the chair and to the rest she was likely denying herself, and he was sorry then that a tickle at his throat caused a cough he couldn't stiffle.

"Sorry doctor. My throat is very dry."

She was already fetching a dipper at the bucket as he said this and he smiled at the speed with which she tackled everything under her care. He drank the proferred water, finding that he was more thirsty than he had thought he was. She went to the bucket again and he studied her other charge lying near by.

"I should have thought that I was the worse off from my wounds, but I see that our man here has taken a turn, and not for the better."

When he had taken water three times from the dipper, he asked her to sit and they spent the better part of an hour in conversation. The subjects drifted from injuries past and present to her recent adventures over land and sea to meet with the French.

One of the lamps smoked out as they talked and neither of them commented on it as they conversed.

. . .

Outside, the barge crew could just be heard rowing about in their effort to recover the anchor for the Watch Dog.

[Cut-throat]

On deck, Johnson steadily darted a weather-eye over the Dog's wooden railing. Many events had transpired over such a short period of time that the young murder-gunner had just found the time to take it all in. The night had passed without the shed of blood, and for this Johnson was thankful. Though quick to the blade as he was, Cut-throat loathed seeing his fellows on the receiving end of the punishment steel. His mind ran rampant as he calculated the past events. Hell was to pay......

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Having spent the better part of entirety reading scripture and conversing with the almighty again I found myself praying for the safe passage of this ship its officers and crew. Dreams took me by surprise and I had been on a cart with many barrels of ale listening to an inner voice one reminding me of the importance of Gods own deliverance and the pleasures of partaking in his masterfull invention known as ale. Then wishing the devil would leave my deliverance, startled I awoke. I could easily see it was before dawn. Black sky and on anchor, I could tell as I could feel the tug of the ships rope length extended then relaxed. A bit of wind and in the shelter of safe harbor I surmised. I got up from my cot and went to the water and washed my pallet spitting out that first nastiness caused by my nights heavy breathing. My stomach growled and except for that roar all else was absolutely silent a few creaks in different corners of the outside ships world but silence of inordinate proportion. It must be early.........

[Dorian Lasseter]

22 June, 1704

4 bells, morning watch 0600

:: At the first sign of dusky light, the barge crew had put out, fully armed and ready for what might await them in the cove, the Qm at the tiller, the Bo'sun standing at the rail of the quarterdeck... ::

Right Lads, steady as she goes, pull easy...

::the Samson slowly made its way back into the cove that had been used to make the battered ship it came from into the formitable vessel, Watch Dog...

The men pulled their sweeps in perfect syncronicity as the man at the tiller guided them through the water, the sky getting lighter with every pull...::

We be gettin' close ta where we was anchored... low tide gonna be settin' soon.... Nigel, get inta th' bow, keep a sharp eye an' see iffn' th' end o' th' cable might still be afloat...

::Nigel knuckled his forehead in salute, then made his way forward into the bow, scanning the water ahead as they slid forward... ::

Take it slow lads.... ha'pace... easy...

::As the barge travelled the gentle swells, Mr. Lasseter scanned the beach head, looked to the fortification that these men had built.... all was quiet, the only movement ashore was the swaying of the trees and fronds from the gentle breeze... ::

Any luck there, Nigel? Ye see anythin'?

:: the man in the bow shook his head sharply and continued staring across the water, hoping for the telltale movement of the tattered end of the anchor cable to give away its location...::