Pyrates of the West Coast

[The Doctor]

:: Jack mind continued to carom wildy through a myriad of memories turned nightmares. A comission. A ship. Mutiny. Marooning. Rescue. Doctors. Questions. Accusations. Medicines. Imprisonment. Abandonment. Every time he tries to latch on to a piece of this swirling puzzle one might whimsically call a memory, every other piece that might connect slips from his grasp. The one element he has firm hold on, he hangs onto for his very life - his name. "Jack St. Anthony. My name is Jack St. Anthony."

Holding on to that single piece of information - an identitiy - he relaxes and ceases to struggle against the flood of disconnected images. He allows the torrent to pass over him, for he cannot chase it, nor can he run from it.

His breathing eases, and his muttering fades away. He feels an odd sensation, and slowly realises that someone is dabbing the sweat from his forehead He remembers her soft words from earlier, and the fear that has been hounding him so unmercifully slips away. His eyes open, and a small smile plays across his lips ::

Why, Doctor. You've found out my little game. Please, marry me at once, for I fear any further attempts at wooing you will be the end of me...

:: He tries to laugh, but it quickly turns into a wracking cough. The Doctor gives him a ladle of water to quench his thirst. He looks about the sickbay, an sees Christine. He speaks slowly and quietly... ::

Is our Captain well? And... the bonny lass is fallen ill? Dark doings, that. Something dark and unnatural...

:: His eyes grow heavy again, but he does not fight it this time. Sleep is welcome, and he lets it envelope him ::

[Christine]

*Christine lay quietly on her bed, occassionally dozing off here and there. She heard Jack mention something dark and unnatural going on, she stirred a little...*

"Aye Jack, aye, that there is." Her words were soft and low. "Ever since the fog something has happened. Something in that fog.......something....paranormal...."

Her words trailed off, she had exhausted herself. It's as if some sickness enveloped her the night of the fog and when she was knocked out. Sickness meaning more like an emotional draining, making her feel very weak. As if someone or something drained her of her energy that night.....

[The Doctor]

:: Jack hears Christine's soft voice, and he opens his eyes. His head lolls over to look at Christine, and his eyes lock on to hers. The look upon her face is tormented and pleading, horrifically so. A dark mist seems to hover above her. As he stares into it, a death's head seems to materialize in the mist above Christine's head, and it turns toward Jack. Seeming to be caught in the act, the skull's jaw drops open and emits a hideous screech! The dark mist coalesces, and escapes through the Infirmary door. Jack's mouth works in wordless terror as Christine's eyes slowly close ::

No, no, NO! We're damned! Saints preserve us, we're all dead men!

:: Jack screws his eyes shut, and cries as he pleads to God for mercy ::

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*Kendra sits on deck, watching the sun orange glow light the evenin sky* "Since the little song bird of the watch Dog is sick lassie, perhaps you could sing a tune to help all us weary sailors sleep?" *Qurried Simon* "Oh, no Simon I have no voice for singing I leave that for the Angles and those whom God has gifted."

"Just one little tune. . .Please?" *he pouts* "Oh All right!" *Clears thoat and hope christine will forgive her*

Farewell My Boney Blue

My Heart stay ever true, for how I love you

My Dear sweet Boney Blue.

The sea doth call my name, but in my heart you'll remain.

No matter storm or gail, or even heaven-hail

Can ever keep me from you

My dear sweet Boney Blue.

Now it's time to dry your eye, I must leave on the tide.

My Pretty Angel bride, stood on shore and waved good bye

As I whiped a tear from my own eye. . .

Farewell My Boney Blue

My Heart stay ever true, for how I love you

My Dear sweet Boney Blue.

[Christine]

*the sound of Jack screaming makes Christine's eyes snap open and sit up in alarm.*

"Dear God, what is it?! What has happened?!"

The room had become ice cold, a fine mist is around them, but slowly evaporates......as if something left.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Armand had returned to the Surgeon's Kingdom with a hint of smile playing his expression in reflection to the time spent with the Captain. The Gascon could not help but be entertained by the sly wit that the ship's commander rolled of with ease, for the fine turn of verbal prowess had always been a quaility that the Frenchman admired.

Upon his re-entrance, Tempest excused herself for a brief in order to obtain a fresh set of garmets and a half goblet of cognac. Her mind traversed through the most recent events that had rolled through the deepened night, and gave consideration to the new set of challenges in due order of appearance.

William had been allowed leave to the Great cabin, as was his desire...though certain restrictions had been instructed. 'A charming devil, that one', she thought while taking a sip from the amber liquid; a expression of satisfaction crossed her features with the psuedo heat warming her throat and her mind turned to the Master at Arms. A small chuckle emitted from her person while recollecting his statement of "wooing". Quietly she verbalized to the air, " If I were not one to know better, it would be my sumation that a good portion of the officers on this ship where d'Irelande in origin....Whether there be a truth or not. Such gentleman of silvered tongue I am surrounded by, of rougish delight." Tempest chuckled softly again at the observation with a shake of head.

Her considerations turned back to the situations at hand and her newest charge. The Cook was an odd mixture of quandries, a riddle within a riddle that the Surgeon had mentally knawed at since the slip of a girl's appearence. The blow suffered to her cranium gave no serious indication of excessive trauma, the laceration was not near as ugly in context after the blood had been cleared away... Granted, there was an obvious raise of swelling at the impact point, but beyond that nothing of great concern. What details Tempest had been able to gather from observation and given report, gave hinting evidence to some mental trauma more than one of physical influence; fetal curl and mania strewn ravings brought foward the existance to things hidden deep in the mind's core. Was Christine a danger to herself?...Even of more import, was she a danger to those in proximity?

Tempest took another draught from the goblet's depth, swirling the fluid fire about her mouth in contemplation. One word rose to the forefront...Sedation. There would be no gambit of risk involving guesswork until more was gathered to make secure a proper prognosis...

That was when the unsettling howl broke the late night tranquility, a sudden disruption causing the sacrifice of fine hewn goblet to the wooden planking below with shattering protest. Regaining the surgery with rapid pace she found Armand trying to calm the Master at Arms and the Cook sitting bolt upright in a vissage of horror. Thinking quickly, Tempest removed a flask of brandy from its hidden nook and procured t the small brown bottle of laudanam accompanying a tin cup upon the sturdy desk. With practiced ease, the stopper was removed and nine drops delivered to the cup's want; the balance of void filled with the flask's content. The inclination of head gave silent direction to the Gascon; he moved away from Jack, gaining the Cook's side.

With words of soothing tone, the cup was delivered to Christine and instruction delivered to the consumption of content. The Cook seemed not to understand what was being instructed, but with patience and encouragement, the frail charge gave in and was soon enough put to deep ease. Seeing the opiate taking hold, Tempest moved around to Armand's close proximity and with hushed wording, ordered the application of restraints.

All was handled with cool calculation and rapidity and seeing all in order, she hastened to the Master at Arm's side. Once again she mopped Jack's glistened brow and gazed with deep concern into the widened eyes that snapped to her own.

"Now, now...All is well, my dear." She paused to clear the stray wanderings of loose hair from his cheek. "There is nothing within these walls to offer you distress...You are safe as a babe in mother's arms, of that I stake my word of honour."

There was a wildness that danced Jack's eyes, an instictual panic that had taken command of his senses with the manic ravings of his Ward Mate. Tempest contiuned with words of gentle ease and slowly, Jack calmed to his former state. She asked if he desired anything to give him comfort and encouraged that he try to rest. With a note of reluctance to take faith in her words at initial speaking, Jack hesitantly relaxed.

The Surgeon took seating within the elbow chair's confine near the head of Jack's bedding and considered intently the thought of moving him to her own chambers in order to insulate him from futher distress. It was a sacrifice of comfort she would gladly pursue to ensure his recovery. Glancing to where Chistine slept with Orient guidance, Tempest noted that the bindings requested were well in place and that Armand had taken seating at the desk. The Gascon's expression gave no effort to disguise his puzzelment, one that was echoed in turn, by the Surgeon's own.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Another day gone from lifes journey I awake as usual before the birds. Or is it later I think? Was not the ship in motion? We could be out to sea but calm awfully calm and I don't feel the ebb and tug of being on anchor. I should liken to open my door and look about! So I drop my feet to the floor boards and feel the sway of the ship funny how a cot sometimes will hide a ships movement. I rise and dress finding my robes I dawn them then my scarf and my rosary. I fetch my good book from my cabins table and make haste past the first corridor and up a flight then down another corridor and up once again onto the star lit deck of the ships quiet. Such a wondrous time of day predawn is Gods own doing watching the colors begin with morning light is my own favorite time indeed. I am again with memory of being prepared for my own court-martial. I pray:

God give this ship peace within and offer to her all that your gloury can bestow. Grant the dreams of these dedicated officers and crew the allowance of your bounty and safety of trials, passage and salvage. In your name I pray.. Amen

I look up and don't see the lookout in the nest. I make my retreat back down into my chamber. No good smells of the galley which reminds me, how is christine? I found her in the locked room in the bilge and she had mentioned being hit from behind and taken there and locked in... By evils of a maccabre nature.... I should liken to go down into the bilge and see what of this I might make certain....

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Having made my way down into the indulgences of steamy sleep quarters and the likes of live stock and ships store I finally made it to that storeroom door where again I found it locked from the outside and the key in the door! I am reminded of stories where ghosts in fact shared castle walks and gardens but I am hard pressed to remember those of which they say these ghost are to whom a certain resemblance is known.... I turn the key and open the door. Near to all doors of a certain room that I make this mention are doors where when unlocked open into the room.... With this small closet of a space it is certainly not the case I have to pull the door open to move around its swing and step into, smartly holding the key I must add! I set my candle in it's wall sconce and cover the area keenly with me eyes. I see the barrels that had broken loose are up and again stored and tied in. Moving to allow my shadow too to move and allow the candle certain and new illumination of areas presently covered by shadow I back up to the door and see the desk I am making for the captain where I am looking to the up yet am physically pushed from behind by the door causing me to lunje forward and reaching out gather my own stable footing by grabbing for a cross tie on an above keg which freely breaks loose from its local and I am lucky to have been looking for this very act of the devils own and am able to thart the similar occurance attempt to knock me out as well. By gaurding the blow off with my left forearm it fell to the floorboard echoing. I realized its lack of weight as being it having been empty. I looked for markings on it but saw none..... I turned to allow retreat and found the door amazingly closed and turning the knob to open it found it locked as well. I reach into my purse where it was I dropped the key thanking God for the wisdom to take it in with me. I engaged its design and opened the door, turned to back out, reached up removed my candle, removed the key and backing stepped around the door and closed it. I then re-inserted the key, thinking there had better be extra keys made, I make a mental note to count the number of keys on this ship????

[William Brand]

June 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Forenoon Watch

The Captain was brought up from sleep by a fly that settled in his ear. He swatted it away too late to stop from using his left arm. What followed was a string of curses and then a little groaning as he stretched his sore limb. Then he raised himself up and made his way gingerly to the table.

He spread out the charts that he had reviewed the day before and began to pen notes on distance, supplies and risks.

"Risks..." William said aloud.

He sent for the Quartermaster.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::as the quartermaster was setting about the forenoon watch, checking the logbook and board, noting the shift of the wind, seeing the crew in a better mood as of late... Word was passed that the Captain wished his presence in his quarters...::

Aye.... Bo'sun! Ye 'ave th' deck... I'll be wi' th' cap'n...

:: descending the stairs to the main deck, then below and aft, passing the Surgeon's ward and back to the Ward room....::

*knock, knock* Cap'n? ye sent fer me?

::he lifted the latch and slowly opened the door...::

[William Brand]

June 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Forenoon Watch

The captain didn't stand or look up. He was too engrossed in his charts at first. He motioned towards a chair without looking at it, his other hand sliding across the coastlines of a half dozen islands.

"Mister Lasseter, we have a few difficult decisions ahead." William stated without looking up. "I have a Master-at-Arms in and out of fevered ramblings, an injured cook, a self exiled clergyman and an impatient Master Gunner. All of these by themselves are paramount in themselves, but together...together..." William shakes his head. "...they are a nest of hidden rocks."

William looked up from his study and smiled a smile that was resigned.

"I should very much like to know your opinions on these subjects."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::the QM was waved into a chair, then the Captain spoke of several issues aboard with the crew, and asked his opinions on them.... Mr. Lasseter put his hand to his scruffy face (thought 'tis time fer a shave...) looked about the cabin while he thought over the captain's words...::

Hrrmm... Th' Master t' Arms... I prey will be in 'is right mind soon enough...

Th' Cook too... mayhaps tis a wee bit o' shock they be in from th' fight...

As fer th' Monsignor... *shrug* If he ain't a bother ta anyone... I han't seen 'im these two days... mayhaps we need ta revisit wot might be in 'is head?

Th' Master Gunner... Hmmm.... He been confined fer two days... mayhaps we also need ta revisit wot be in 'is head.... learn 'im ta follow orders from who be in charge... which reminds me... I had th' guns charged when we first left th' cove... I'll need ta 'ave 'em unloaded an' set ta rights...

Iffn ye wish, I c'n set ta have th' crew topside ta decide their punishments... as in accord o' th' Articles...?

::He sat back, scratched his jaw, and waited for the Captain to speak...::

[William Brand]

William considers the issues before him for a long time. His eyes falls on the closed door.

"First, I would like you to go into that sea chest there and bring me out the purse you find in it."

William waited for Mister Lasseter to retrieve the coin bag of some weight stashed there among his bedclothes.

"Take sufficient from there to pay a generous wage to the Master Gunner for the time he has taken to train the gunnery crew. A generous portion, Mister Lasseter. I'll not put him off the ship without paying him his earnings.

Also, take from our stores two weeks supply of tobacco, bread, cheese and rice for his use and see that he gets my share of rum for the next week, as I will not be using it. Put the rum in a cask of adequate size in a bag with the tobacco and the rest and see that all of his arms and personal items are gathered together. Then bring him here."

[The Doctor]

:: Jack stirs from him morphine-induced slumber. Thoughts flow like molasses on a chilled day. He tries to bring his hand to his head, and finds himself still restrained. He thinks back, and remembers that Christine was there, too. Something about her being attacked? Some wraith-like thing feeding off her?

No, no, wait... The fever. It has to be from the fever. So many strange thoughts... His head hurts, and his throat is parched. As he tries to get more comfortable in his bunk, he's reminded of the injury to his leg by way of a searing jolt of pain. He wonders how long he's been in the Infirmary... As he looks around, he sees Christine still sleeping quietly. Confident that the Doctor will make her rounds before long, he closes his eyes and rests ::

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I made my way back to me quarters without even a meeting or seeing a soul. Now I expected to be seeing a soul or a ghoul of the devils own brigade mayhaps there in the stockroom in the bilge but nay even a ghost was with me in thar!

I remebered to write down on me tablet: How many keys are on the ship?

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: the QM stood, hefting the bag of specie.... listening to the orders he was given...::

Aye... I 'ad expected somat o' wot ye say... Ye be generous... Lessee wot wages 'r here...

::Mr. Lasseter opens the pouch, and carefully dumps the coins onto the table, he counts out more than half the contents, looks at the captain for approval, then puts the remainder back into the pouch, walks to the sea chest and places it inside...::

I'll be back soon, wi' Mr. Youngblood in tow....

::The QM heads out, first to the hold where he gathered the victuals and tobacco in the amounts requested, then two bottles of rum, put it all in a canvas bag, his next stop was the Armoury where he checked the log, and retrieved the weapons belonging to Mr. Youngblood, secured them with leather thongs into a tight parcle. These he brought to the Captain's ward room...::

Here be 'is affects... now fer th' man...

::again he left, this time heading for the powder magazine...::

Aye, stand asside, Lad, Mr. Youngblood is summoned ta th' Cap'n's quarters... yer ta come along....

::the quartermaster said to the guard as he picked the key for the door to the magazine... inserting the key and turning it, then swinging the door open slowly...::

Mr. Youngblood!!! Cap'n requires yer person!, come along now...

::Mr. Youngblood squints in the light, then slowly stands, then makes his way out of the room... the QM locks the door...

Right, now off we go ta th' Cap'n's quarters...

They make their way aft, coming to the door to the ward room, Mr. Lasseter steps infront of Mr. Youngblood, knocks and pushes the door open::

'ere we be Cap'n... as requested...

[Pirate Petee]

Aye aye , quartermaster, feels good ta stretch me limbs.

[William Brand]

June 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Again, the Captain seemed absorbed in his papers for a long time while the two men stood across from him. He made several additional notations from comparable charts before setting the quill aside and straightening in his chair.

"Mister Youngblood. As Captain of this ship I have a few matters to discuss regarding your conduct aboard this ship. First, let me say how well the gunnery crew answered to each and every order you directed to them. Their speed and diligence under fire is commendable. Each of them regards his or her cannon with a special attention to detail and order.

Now there is the matter of your conduct as regards the ship herself. You are often found at rest. You seem diligent when prompted, but often careless. No one could ever question your enthusiasm as a gunner. It is obvious to all that you would rather be under the cover of heavy smoke and splinters than any other place, but you take risks that I consider too great for the safety of this ship.

Have you anything to say, Mister Youngblood?"

[Pirate Petee]

Well sir, I was in the service, and the reason for officers and nco's is so the commander, whoever that may be, doesn’t have to command his command under a spyglass ifin ya know what I mean sir. They have a certain duties and responsibilities that they carry it out how they see fit under certain circumstances using their judgment . Now that don’t mean that they goes about doin whats they want to do, whenever they wants ta do it. He has to trust that they will do what needs to be done, if he can't trust that they will make the right decisions then they shouldn't be officers. I think having us fire when we are being fired upon is the right decision.

Sir I didn’t mean ta undermind your command what so ever. And as fer me morning rituals of a dip and a smoke, if that be too lax of a way ta be actin on yer ship I apologize, sir. Once again it twasnt ta personal attack at your command or your ability ta captain this ship.

[William Brand]

Mister Youngblood met the Captain's eye as he spoke. He stood without stooping, despite two long days and nights in the hold. He spoke candidly and made no excuses for his conduct. When he was through, there was a long silence that followed.

William remained seated for a time, still holding the man's gaze. The man's eyes were clear, if not a little squinted from that hard light coming in from the stern windows. The Captain considered everything Mister Youngblood had said, but more than this, he considered what he hadn't said and what he didn't need to say.

"Mister Lasseter." William began as he used the table to lift himself to a standing position. "See that the Master Gunner is allowed soap and clean water for shaving and a hot meal before returning him to his duties."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye-aye, Cap'n!

::The QuarterMaster, took the keys for the irons that bound the Master Gunner, unlocked them, letting them fall to the deck...::

Come on, Lad... I'll 'ave the crew rig th' pump n' hoses... go get yerse'f a clean shift o' clothes an' find yerse'f on th' main deck...

::as the Master Gunner left, the QM turned to the captain, smiled a hard smile and bobbed his head, then headed out, up on deck ordering the hoses and pump to be rigged, set to give Mr. Youngblood a cleaning... once the crew started to move, he headed back to the captain...::

Well... I s'pose I should return alla this ta th' proper stowage?

[Pirate Petee]

*A small grin started to appear and a look of relief and thanks came over his face, but he was able to retain them both and maintain his level of professionalism.*

Thank You sir, you won't be disapointed. Now that I haves clear understanding on hows ya like yer ship run, I'll sees to it thats how its run.

*Raises hand to his tri-cornm and dips it.*

[William Brand]

*A small grin started to appear and a look of relief and thanks came over his face, but he was able to retain them both and maintain his level of professionalism.*

Thank You sir, you won't be disapointed. Now that I haves clear understanding on hows ya like yer ship run, I'll sees to it thats how its run.

*Raises hand to his tri-cornm and dips it.*

William returned the gesture without hesitation and was grateful for the simple and deliberate return to duty. William remained standing until he was gone, then with more effort than before, he returned to his chair.

. . .

In short order, the Quartermaster came back to discuss the other matters before the ship.

"Please see Mister Youngblood's belongings returned to the fo'c'sle." William smiled for a moment before adding. "And please, Mister Lasseter, return those hammocks to those that have need of them. We're beginning to look like a prison hulk with these scattered sleepers about the decks. Just make them understand that I want them stowed away and we'll speak no more of that.

I'll ponder on these other matters for the time being, but I should like to see the crew assembled, so that we might see what skills they have as boarders. This evening should serve, I should think."

William dismissed the Quartermaster with his thanks, but even as the door closed he called him back.

"One more thing, Mister Lasseter. Who was it that brought me down to the surgery during the battle?"

[CaptainCiaran]

(Always scanning the horizon with his spyglass, Ciaran muses how there has been nothing to see 'cept water and gulls fer many a day. Then, as if summoned by that thought, he sees it....smoke. He pulls the glass away from his eye, blinks, and replaces it. Smoke. Far, far off, barely visible even with the spyglass, but definitely billowing smoke. Ciaran turns toward the deck and shouts for one of the boys to fetch the Captain and Mister Lasseter smartly. As the young lad runs off below to find them, Ciaran keeps his eye peeled on the horizon.)

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye Cap'n... I'll 'ave all belongin's restored..... an' return all hammocks....

::he picks up the bundles of foodstuff and weapons, turns and leaves, just as the door closes, the captain calls him back... he asks a question of who brought him to the Surgeon...::

Ah, hmm... I doo believe twas Mr. Youngblood... mayhap wi' help from others... I'll hafta check m' notes....

::he nodded, then was off to stow the victuals and weapons...::