Pyrates of the West Coast

[William Brand]

Before William could answer there was the unmistakable click of a flintlock hammer being cocked back. Then a second one. Miss Smith had drawn and pointed her pistols at almost the same time that Mister Lasseter had drawn. The plate she held moments before was rolling across the room, where it settled in the corner.

Visser, who had long since stopped translating was half way out of seat, but settling into it again. Eynbrecht's eyes were large and the man was visibly sweating. It made dark rivulets as it carried soot into his clothing.

William removed the pistol from Captain Scully's hand. Scully's face was ugly in its anger. William didn't care.

"Mister Lasseter, please take this dock handler to the hold and see that he has fresh water and a basin in which to clean himself."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Having for the betters of two bells been thanked and thanked again for the short and sweet service by every man on board I began to worry why I had not seen my captain their captain or the likes reappear on the Watch Dog's deck, Now mind you having the best reaosns in the world for entering into and enjoying the likes of this pirates life I went on back to school where I knows I would be of a much .... Higher assistance. So having known the likes of certain death fearin mens needs to absolve their own sins having just seen the possibility of death becoming and all to real to the end of their own day. And I mean this days might have been their end. I figured every damn one of em would be in my care and while I was holdin them real close to me heart and guidin them into the love of God. Me two mates Willie and Tito were down below wreaking havoc with the abilities of the guns to work propersly. About that time I realized that I needed to get off this ship and fast. I decided I would feign an illness and be assisted off the ship I would then ask if mayhaps the cutter might assist in me own return. I'm looking down at it when I gets the wink from Willie standin on the deck of it! I mouth "where is Tito" and he points to the rail under where I'm standin. I look down and he's hangin there on the last tether connecting the two blade in his teeth and he winks at me. God damn these guys are good! I bestowed my best of wishes to the many and stepped up to the rail one leg over then the next and down into the cutter I went Tito was slidin down the ropes comin in from the aft. Well without even a nod or a wink, we were under sail and coming out and about from the other side of the Merchantman and headed toward the Watch Dog. I was shaking my head in disbelief and staring right at Ciaran so as he'd know it was us comin!

[Captain Jim]

*Still in the barge after delivering the officers from the smoking hulk of the Dutch ship, Jim and the barge crew now find themselves still between two armed ships with no certainty as to the disposition of the situation…*

“Steady on, lads. Seems ta be our lot tonight to stare down the barrels of one set o’ cannon or another. Same plan o’ action ‘ere, then…If all ’ell cuts loose we makes fer the stern o’ the ‘Dog, break out the muskets an’ go ta work on the Dutchman. Iffen ye gets a clean shot inta a gun port, take it. One down the barrel o’ a cannon gums things up a bit as well. Our lads in the riggin’ will take care o’ the swivel gunners on deck…”

[The Doctor]

:: Jack lays back against his Infirmary bunk, contemplating what might be going on above. His patience is at an end with lying about, restrained like a mad man. He smiles at that bit of irony; knowing himself that he must be, on some level, completely mad. He pretends to slumber for the space of probably an hour by the ship's bell, then, in a raspy whisper, summons the good Doctor ::

Please, dear Surgeon. Draw nigh, for I have something in which to confide you...

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

you guys knows whats yer doin right? Tito and Willie must a been partners afore each roll and movement as if choreographed by a dance teacher as I am still working on being seen by Ciaran. I gots me hand up and I knows they sees us full sail and its billowin right at the Watch Dogs hind. (smiles to meself haven't thought of a dogs hind in years) Sails roll up and a sharp tack off the rear of the ship and sails up tack back to the larboard and right into the windward side of the Dog. Willie runs up front and throws a rope up and PEW is there and ties us off. Whew! Have a Cutter Captain! Tito (I turn to say me piece) Make sure you let the master gunner knows ye screwed up the merchantmans guns below and that our only heavy worry's aren't heavy but the swivals. Willie you stay right here on this cutter until you are relieved sir of duty by either the Captain or the Quartermaster.

[CaptainCiaran]

(Ciaran sees Diego and company approaching, so calls down to everyone on the deck of the Watch Dog to assist 'em up when they arrive. Ciaran gives a wave of acknowledgement to the Monsignor as they smartly approach.)

[William Brand]

Mister Lasseter escorted Captain Scully from the ward room. They had made an enemy that day, but William was never more glad of it.

He turned to Miss Smith who was still brandishing her flintlocks. With a smile and a gesture from William, she lowered them. She had a face on that he had never seen her wear before. It was surprising on such a young face, and in this new light, he was even more glad that he had made her his steward.

William turned to Visser then. "Gentlemen. I don't know how long you've had to suffer under that intolerable ass, but I assure you, you will have better treatment from us. I will send my men to bring your cargo aboard, so that might remove it quickly and refill the boats with provisions. I will have my doctor sent over. Given the misunderstanding with your Captain, I hope you'll understand if I send my people under guard."

Visser nodded. He didn't look frightened or alarmed in any way. He simply looked worn. Eynbrecht seemed to press him for a translation, and when Visser explained what was to happen, Eynbrecht nodded and began to speak in rapid succession.

William waited while Visser attempted to keep up.

"He wants to know if we might trade some of the cargo for any spare sail you might have and the use of some tools and line."

William smiled broader than he had at any time since Ciaran had sighted smoke on the horizon. "My thoughts exactly."

[William Brand]

A cry came from the upper decks then, followed by commotion. William excused himself with instructions for Miss Smith to see that these men were offered a chance to wash up and rest. William retired to the gun deck.

He arrived to find men and women offloading cargo from the Danzig's cutter. Barrels, bags and boxes were coming up from the cutter and filling the space normally reserved for the barge.

Diego placed himself smartly in front of the Captain.

"Why, my good Monsignor, you have a high regard and optimism for the outcome of my negotiations, to have brought me the cutter before knowing the outcome." William smiled a satisfied smile. "Please assemble the crew here if you will. Our Mister Lasseter is indisposed at present.

William made his way to the quarterdeck as the crew assembled.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon paused in the application of suture, head cocked ever so slightly in inclination to the decks above...nothing since the finale thunder of powder roar...silence broken intermittantly by the sound of footstep over smoothed planking comprising border between worlds. A quick glance to the heavy door to the right gave sight to the large legnth of heavy oak plane supported by thick iron hooks to either side, a measure taked to disuade entrance unwanted to medical sanctum. Periphreal gave note of the Armand's lithe form suspened between elbow chair and sea chest ottoman. What an air of noncholance adorned the Gascon, such a fine farce to show this theater in the round...Tempest knew better, it was a fine portrayal in mimic of predatory cat; the poise of ignorance to surround, that was very aware. That faceand outward manner of angelic innocence had proven looks can be all to deceiving to those who wish to prod...and even as these thoughts travelled the corridors of her mind, she noticed that he had turned his aquiline line of facial feature to watch her...watching him and a smallish play of impish smile tugged hid corner of mouth.

Returning focus to the man prone before her, Tempest gave quick survey to how the Master at Arms was bearing up. Jack seemed to be handling the procedure well, although there lay upon his brow a beading of sweat that betrayed something of his thoughts. The threatening of gag had been put into process, not for the original situation, but rather to guard against unwanted skreek as the needle and filliment worked pattern and drew void together...all and all, the same precaution to the ends and means going on in the other world.

She was unawares of the "other" goings on and had no care to bring any ill fate down upon their heads. It was not as though she was squeamish at the thought of dismissing another's life, but, she saw no need for the un-neccesary calling to it either. The Surgeon was no innocent to situation where two meet and one walks away, no more innocent of such that the Gascon in near distance was. But...there was no pleasure taken in doing so and by her own hand, was only done by dire need.

The finale play of filliment knotted into place, she reached to the near standing table, past the 70 caliber pistol and on to the delicate shears. Placing their familliar weight and feel into the wrap of slender digit, she finished the ceremonies at hand with a swift snip and returned them to there former place of rest. Looking over the rounded rim of spectacle, she smiled warmly and gently removed the rounded wooden bit from Jack's toothed grip.

" At long last, oui?" She chuckled.

Not waiting for reply, Tempest applied a thick, brownish salve to the affected area before wrapping with fresh bandaging. She glanced to the crafted splint laying in the pistol's company in brief, before saying...

"We shall let you relax for a space of time before applying that splint...If all goes well, I shall release you to your own quarters soon. It is best that you remain here until all of this...buisness above is taken care of."

She aknowledged Jack's smile of appreciation then cocked her hearing once again to the ceiling above...

[William Brand]

William stood near the wheel, leaning again like a scarecrow, but with a smile on his face and bright eyes. He surveyed the broken Danzig Trader. She could be salvaged and probably would be, but it was such a waste to see her withered away and to know so much of it could have been prevented. Still, they would reap well the rewards of assistance and all were safe aboard.

He turned back to the gun deck.

"My fine crew, may I say how pleased I am at you conduct these many hours. You each played your part in this very well. You demonstrated cool heads and even hands. You've staved off sleep, thirst and impatience and we shall be well rewarded for it. As a crew you were flawless, but let me take this time to thank many of you individually.

William seeks out Ciaran, only to realize with a smile, that the good lookout is still aloft.

"Ciaran! Good eyes, dear fellow. We would not be here were it not for your good eyes. The tide may have carried that wrecked ship even further to sea if not for you. Come down, man! You've been aloft too long!

Some laughter comes up from the gun deck at this and more so when Ciaran stretches weary legs before climbing down. William sends up replacements for both he and Swan. William tips his hat to them as they reach the deck.

"Master Gunner! A fine crew. A very fine passel of powder monkeys, indeed. My compliments sir. Steady nerves and even steadier shots. That mast felling was a thing of beauty. I shall very much like to see such shooting the next time we are engaged with a more dangerous target.

And Mister Warren? William looks about but doesn't see him. Diego points to the larboard rail.

"Ahhh." William says and makes his way to larboard. "Good sailing, sir. I've never heard a more silent departure. Or rather, since I didn't hear it, I've never heard one yet. Fine work. Please be prepared to cast off with supplies from the Watch Dog presently."

William turns to face the crew again. "The Captain of the Danzig, in his wisdom, has put out all of the fires aboard his ship with his fresh water stores." William waits while this bit of news spreads about the crew. There are many wide eyes and head shakings. William just nods.

"We have been offered a trade of well priced goods in exchange for spare sailcloth and line. I need fresh water stores loaded immediately aboard the Samson for departure to the Danzig Trader. Make haste, and be at hand to send and receive goods. Send someone below and see what sailcloth can be prepared for trade.

Rummy! Hawks! Your services will be called on aboard the Danzig before the end of day. Please report to the quarterdeck with your tools!

That is all! Thank you, one and all. Let us be to our duties."

[Jonathan Hawks]

Before leaving, Mr Hawks turns to William.

"I aves me one question Red. Ow does I bring me tool to be forgin wit. I got me small tongs, hammer etc. Ana I do ave a small forge , but I be needed a few men ta get it on board and on to a safe slab o steel sos not ta burn any wood."

[William Brand]

Before leaving, Mr Hawks turns to William.

"I aves me one question Red. Ow does I bring me tool to be forgin wit. I got me small tongs, hammer etc. Ana I do ave a small forge , but I be needed a few men ta get it on board and on to a safe slab o steel sos not ta burn any wood."

"Mister Warren shall see you over with the Samson. As for the rest, you'll have to make due with what you find there. I know it isn't ideal, but they'll need you and the Master Carpenter if they're going to make the foremast bear the weight of that ship.

I shall be sending you over once the Carpenter and Bosun of the Danzig Trader have both had a chane to clean themselves up. Mister Visser has a good grasp of the English language, so together you and Rummy may communicate with them."

[Jonathan Hawks]

Aye Red. I will try ta be doing me best fer um. No guarentees tho. I be needin ta make some extra heavy strappins and pins as well as braces ta be holdin it up. Me skills are good, so I be givin it me all. Mayhaps they ave somthin more fer me ta work with. I be awaitin yer orders. In the meantime I be waitin starboard.

[William Brand]

"Mister Hawks, it isn't that I mind the informality, but I would prefer that you not call me "Red" while we are among the Dutch."

[Jonathan Hawks]

"Oh, sorry Re..... I mean Mr Wake. I just figured they be no worse for ware seins we be elpin em and all. Dina think they be carin bout names. It be the bloody pirate in me. Ard habbits and all. But I will ablige ya. Again, I be waitin o'r thar Mr Wake"

Hawks turns and makes his way starboard lookin out over the rail.

[The Doctor]

:: Jack's breathing eased, with the procedure being done. He knew that the Doctor's swift and precise work would seal the damage done by our previous adversary. He felt the bit withdraw from his mouth, and he worked his jaw to dissipate the strain he exherted during the procedure. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again, with a most unexpected peacefulness in his eyes ::

Doctor, please. I ask of you, there is something I must tell you...

:: The Surgeon turns her gaze from the deck above, and leans close the prone Master At Arms. Without warning, he grabs her by the blouse and pulls her face close to his. He speaks quietly, and in much haste ::

This is what I wish to tell you, Dear Doctor; my name... my name is Sir John Michael St. Anthony, post-Captain and commander of His Majesty's Ship the Fortunato, with a privateer's comission, in the service of the Royal Navy. My crew mutinied, wishing to go on the Account rather than share their take with the Crown. They set me adrift, left for dead, and I went mad in the heat rather than acknowledge my failure as a commander. Do you understand, and do you intend to remain silent about this matter until it is prudent? I will remain a proper Master At Arms to our Captain, as I have no further love for my King nor Country. I am no spy. I am a pyrate, through and through, my good Doctor. And I shall remain so until I draw my last breath. But I must confide this in you, to assure you that I am quite sane. I will behave no differently than before with the crew and officers, and I ask that you keep this our secret.

What say you, Doctor?

[Cut-throat]

Patiently tending to his powder-covered swivel, Johnson kept an open ear as the Captain spoke. The Captain seemed well and pleased at the outcome of the recent events that unfolded. The young murder-gunner cursed to himself silently. That last exchange was merely foreplay, and Cut-throat Johnson was battling his inner bloodlust. Though he would obey the Captain's orders, and follow William into hell if need be, Johnson couldn't help but want another crack at the remaining crew aboard the target vessel. None the less, he refrained.........

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Through the half lidded facade of unawares, the Gascon caught the rapid grasp and rough pull forward of his companion's offbalanced movement. It would be of amazement to those having become comfortable with the Gascon's general quiet nature and unthreatening familiar mannerism to see the swift and stealth movement that came to bare with the action presented by the Master at Arms.

No sound to give warning of approach, no evidence but that of brief glint of dim light upon polished steel as the legnth and edge of main gauche was slid to rest and give pressure against Jack's juglar. The hiss of announcement gave echo to the murderous intent that played the darkened grey orbs floating above angled line of cheek.

" Monsieur...It is to your best interest to release your purchase upon Mademoiselle...Do not force my hand...Release her now."

The razor edge showed its intent as more pressure was applied to emphisize statement.

Tempest kept a cool manner, never letting to surface in expression what the cadance of her heart was giving in reaction. The delicate sculpt of ear listened to the words from both parties, and ever so slowly, she looked away from Jack's expression to that of Armand's then back. The clutch upon linen tension eased but did not retreat compleatly and she noted the small crimson droplet that appeared at sharpened edge and flesh border. The tone of her voice was low, but carried all the stregnth and force of a brigadier general...

" Non, Armand..." Her eyes locked upon Jack's own. " Arret et abondonner un proces, s'il vous plait."

Against what the Gascon thought to be better judgement, he withdrew the blade though the intent in his expression still played strongly as he moved from the bedding's head to its side, glareing at the prone man before him.

"Anglais chien..."

"Armand! Ca suffit, c'est assez!" She commanded.

Slowly, she took Jack's large hand in her own two small ones and gently plied his grip away. Regaining her balance she stepped back a pace to consider briefly what the Master at Arm's had offered into her confidence, her eyes never straying from the hold of his own.

" Commander un navire...La Marine nationale Britannique...mon dieu..."

There was a silence that hung the air heavily in segue to the Surgeon's next verbal relay.

"Monsiegneur.... St. Anthony...Capitaine St. Anthony, you flatter me with your act of trust and I will uphold that confidence, though by all rights I should do otherwise in light of your actions. My word is my bond and I shall assume that you will do nothing in which to make me regret my doing so..."

Tempest stepped back two more paces, waving Armand away and paused...

" I must tell you...You are in dire need of learning the subtle arts in which to gain a lady's attention."

A fleet of feral smile showed as she turned to regain the desk's company and a draught from the brandy flask that sat upon its' worn surface. Armand followed her wake, hesitaing once to fix the Master at Arms with a look of warning, before proceeding to the Surgeon's proximity.

[The Doctor]

My apologies, my good Doctor. Please forgive my rashness. It will not happen again. One might say that I have not been myself, as of late. I confided in you because to seem to be... :: Jack's eyes cut to Armand, then back to Dr. Fizgerald :: ... accustomed to secrecy. You have every right and reason to take what I have spoken here to the Captain, and I would not fault you for doing such. But it is a risk I have taken, whatever the outcome.

I trust Armand to remain silent of this because, as my suspicions proved out, he has secrets of his own to worry with.

Nous sommes les deux hommes militaires, tombés des périodes difficiles. No?

Again, please accept my apologies. I promise to be more charming when next I try to gain your attentions.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon savored the words proffered much in the same way she did the tot of liquid fire. There was a tincture of desperation that underlied what was given as the Master of Arms stated his case. Tempest had given her word, not something that she handed about freely by any means, and the secret would remain safe in her care. She knew also, that Armand would act deaf and dumb to the revealings of past, regardless of his current raise of hackles.

Jack's mention of suspicions proved did little to calm the Gascon, but being well attuned to the nature of human kind and with the next proffer of common ground in mother tongue, some of the steeliness faded from his vissage. Armand would give Jack a certain wide berth of respect in light of recent subject, but he would not become at total ease due to the Master at Arms' statements, which in eluded manner, pierced the enigma.

Tempest approached Jack St. Anthony once again, flask in hand, and offering it to him stated softly,

"As I said, my word as my bond...And I assure you, that it can be counted upon far more than the false statements that fly from the mouths on forked tongue belonging to courtiers. Your apologies are accepted and we shall put this behind us without drawing this incident to the surface outside of your possible need to vent."

She glanced sidelong to Armand who now perched upon desk surface plane,

"You may set your conscience at ease in regard to Monsieur D'esnumbuc, though I must encourage you to take heed in what I emphisize...Niether of us will allow harm to come to the other, as you have seen. I am usure of these suspicions that you have had confirmed, but would ask you what it is that you think is reality. There is no need for faleshoods to exist and take wing amonst common foremast jacks. So, shall we bring these things to the forefront and clarify what may be truths or untruths...in light of the bond of trust that lies betwixt us."

She reached slowly for the flask's return...

[The Doctor]

:: Jack felt the heat of the brandy slide down his throat. Quite the improvement from the cold steel of Armand's sword. He smiled appreciatively as he handed the flask back to Tempest ::

Truth, and my perceptions thereof? Now there's a fine bit of irony... Let us begin with the good monsieur, shall we? While playing the part of faithful manservant, he always struck me as a bit too capable, savvy? I would expect him to know his way around a Surgery, as he obviously does. But where he aquitted himself unexpectedly well was in times of action. Any other time, he seems uncomfortable in his own skin. But with a weapon in his hand, shoulder to shoulder with the crew - a wholly different man. :: Jack rubs his neck where Armand's sword tip had been, and looks at the bit of blood on his fingers from the small wound :: Obviously well-trained, and quite formidable. The fact that he is never voluntarily more than 3 strides from you at any given moment speaks of keen attention to duty. Again, not totally unheard of for a manservant, but rather unusual.

:: Jack looks Armand in the eye, and regards him respectfully::

I do not know what your debt is to our fine Surgeon, monsieur. And it is not my place to know nor ask. But we are crewmates. And when the time comes that we must stand together and fight, know that I shall stand with you to the end.

:: He turns back to the Doctor, and furrows his brow ::

You, Dr. Fitzgerald, are the enigma of the ship. The Gatekeeper of Secrets, mine included. You know the shrouded truths kept by everyone within this Ward, not counting your own. And your mysteries run very deep, indeed. You were the one instrumental in the negotiate return of the stolen French cutter, and it had bloody little to do with your nation of origin, I'll be bound. It is customary on any naval vessel that the commanding officer and the chief physician have a close rapport. Our Captain, I'm certain, is no different in his adherance to that tradition. But he is also a man of secrets, as one might expect. So it is no great leap of logic to surmise that you know more about the motivations and intentions of our commander than does the Quartermaster. Your agility with a fighting blade is also worth the raise of an eyebrow. I haven't got that one quite sussed as yet, but it does speak to a privileged upbringing.

As for myself... I find myself praying that we run across the Fortunato. If that blinkard Phillistine of a Quartermaster had but asked the question "Sir, is it your intent to go a-pyrating?", I would have burned our papers, spat upon my hands, and hoisted the Black Ensign. I have given too much... too much, I say, for "King and Country." And if we should meet up with her, and that bastard... what is his damned name? "Carlisle"! Daniel Carlisle! I shall take great delight in hanging his severed head from our bowsprit. I was given no chance, no chance at all, to make my wishes known. They comandeered the ship, and only as they were putting me over the side did they tell me that they had murdered the Surgeon, Navigator, and First Mate. We had all discussed turning pyrate, and were to pose the question of the crew in two days time. Damn them all...

I thank you, Doctor. Not only have you mended my body, but you've gone far in setting my mind to rights as well. Both of you; please know that I do not nor have I ever shared my thoughts or suspicions with anyone aboard. I have detested idle conjecture and scuttlebutt aboard any ship I have served aboard or commanded, and still do. I swear this to you both on pain of death: no word of any of this shall shall be passed by me.

[CaptainCiaran]

"Ciaran! Good eyes, dear fellow. We would not be here were it not for your good eyes. The tide may have carried that wrecked ship even further to sea if not for you. Come down, man! You've been aloft too long!

Some laughter comes up from the gun deck at this and more so when Ciaran stretches weary legs before climbing down. William sends up replacements for both he and Swan. William tips his hat to them as they reach the deck.

(Ciaran smiles and nods thanks to his Captain. He and Swan then go to the ship's bow and stand, stretch, and look out across the water toward the Danzig. It has become a spectacularly beautiful late afternoon. As the sea slowly begins to swallow the sun, Ole Sol responds by sending the most magnificent rays of red, pink and orange across the sky.)

Swan turns to Ciaran and says, "Red skies at night...."

[William Brand]

Once everything was set into motion, William advised Mister Lasseter, Mister Youngblood and Mister Badger, to begin rotations of sleep for the tired crew of the Watch Dog.

Then, following his own orders, he retired to the ward room.

Hours passed in this fashion, with cargo coming off the Danzig and supplies going back. The Samson's crew was traded out often to keep fresh rowers at work. The exchange went on for hours and all the while, Mister Lasseter kept the quarterdeck.

After a time, the sounds of mallet and hammer of Mister Hawks and Miss Rummy could be heard traveling across the water as they set about in the dark to secure a damaged foremast. As night progressed, lanterns were taken aloft in the single mast and the Danzig seemed less crippled to those who watched the progress of the work.

Almost a full half of the Danzig Trader's crew came and went from the Watch Dog to be fed and to make use of the pumps for cleaning. Some were quiet, passing their time aboard in silence. Others, despite the language barrier, claps hands and laughed tiredly to be clean once again. One Dutch sailor was found asleep at his half finished bowl of food.

It was a strange night and a good night.

Even so, as William had suspected, he had pushed himself too far too fast and he spent the long night in great discomfort.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Retrieving the proffered flask from Jack, she partook of the aged elixir and listened to the deductions given by the former Post Captain. The expression she wore was one of nuetrality, a well practiced and honed skill developed over many years, in many locals. From behind she noted the soft whisper of cloth against wood, followed by the pad of footstep which ceased at the elbow chair's high back. As with any other situation that bore weight, her mental faculties digested with care not only what was said, but anything that could be gleened by vocal nuance or physical manner. Those subtle things that most overlooked, that were left unnoticed when they were the true defining elements of truth and possible consequence. And what was gleened from Jack St. Anthony's wordings gave finale seal to what she knew deep on an instintual level...This was a man of honorable being, of strong conviction and stronger spirit, a believer of the virtues of loyalty...but a force of reckoning if crossed.

Tempest once again offered the silver flask then resettling into the deep recess of leather and ornate wood, steepled her fingers under chin and contemplated a moment more before speaking.

" We all have our crosses to bear and deamons to place into check...Your prowess of deduction is very impressive, very impressive indeed..."

She considered a moment more than continued.

" We shall surfice to say, that Armand and myself have known each other since he was a very young boy. He has given a fine example, within his four and twenty years, to the manner of man that there should be more of in the world we know. As for his constant attentiveness to myself...He was that way from the time he was able to motivate under the power of own two feet, a time when I was a young girl and not as aged to my thirties as you see now. We have a certain bond and that is a telling in itself, you might say...His skills in the art of steel and ball are partially due to my own father's attentive training, but there are reasons beyond that..."

The delicate brow creased momentarily in pause.

"As to myself..." she smiled, " an "enigma" and a "keeper of secrets" you say, such titles of grand being. Very interesting indeed, Mister St. Anthony..." She chuckled softly, "I must say that I feel a certain flattery in the fact that I should capture your fascination, as I apperantly have, and will go so far as to say this much in response... Under my true surname, there are certain aspects of my bloodline that could be said to have impact in higher circles of prestigious manner...But, why dwell in the past. My father was a very skilled swordsman, an art he passed to me to aid in my safety within the unpredictable happenings one my encounter...My father did not believe that a woman should be forced to anothers mercy due to traditional philosophies. With regard to other observations...Sometimes, it is best that sleeping dogs lie..."

"And now, we come to you...It is a cruel hand of Fate that has played your past and not one uncommon in all facets to what I have heard of before. For your sufferings, you do have my sympathies...for no one should have to face such adversity without justice served. This Carlisle rings familliar to me, though at the moment, its' origin plays elusive to my mind..."

She paused in thought...

"You owe me no debt of thanks though I do appreciate your thoughts and noble intentions. Far more than that, I appreciate your discretion and there is no need for the swearing of boons for I believe you to be a man of your word and will be satisfied with such."

Tempest eased out of the large chair and gaining her feet, retrieving a dampened cloth, she attended the smallish nick that lay upon Jack's throat. Satisfied, she reached for the smallish knob controlling the nearby lamp's illumination and turning it low, motioned for the flask's return. In the half cast shadow the Surgeon spoke softly...

"The hour grows late and I do believe you need your rest. It has been an interesting eve, Monseigneur. Please do not hesitate in request of need, but do try to obtain some sleep."

She turned from him then and walked quietly to temporary bed near the desk. As she sat upon its surface, the deep green sight glanced to where her charge lay and wondered on the odd twists that came to bare on Life's journey. Armand moved to the desk and propping booted feet to surface support, twisted to look around chair's back to her with a raise of brow in silent query...

[The Doctor]

:: Jack enjoyed a final draught of brandy from the Doctor's flask. As he listened intently to the physician's words, he noted that she too pays as much attention to how something is said as to the words themselves. More training from a noble house than she is willing to divulge. No doubt a skilled negotiator. Coupled with her innate loveliness, a potentially devastating combination. His mind raced as she attended the nick on his neck, back across the years, thinking of how much has been stolen from him. Finally, the Doctor dims the lights and prescribes rest, and Jack is suddenly aware of how much time has passed, and how very tired he is ::

As you wish, Doctor. And I thank you.

:: He settles into his bunk, quietly pondering the odd bond between Tempest and Armand. At long last, sleep wins out... ::