Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The thundering roll of polished brass twelve roars across water's surface and echos the bounce of wave. Veering in course, the frigate heels to starboard and gives view of multiple gape of gun port gracing the swoop of wale. Below the surface of low beamed ceiling, gunner crews and officers stand at ready to the company of slow match burn.

Fournier kept diligent survey of the near distant view, carefully taking in details as they arose. The smaller ship was in stages of repair, her masts and yards in a state of frenzy. It was obvious that new planking had been put into place sparadiclly through out.

"Lieutenant Lamaire...Please raise semphores to our new found company and inquire them to raise colors and also what their buisness is in these waters..."

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

With weapons we cross the planking connecting the two ships Mr P E W and Mr Johnson I would like their Quartermaster to address your stations though it would suit waiting for post assignment within reach of a big gun each. Tito Sir you will address each and every need of their Quartermaster. Mr Johnson how is your Dutch sir? We'll need to wake this sleeping crew and be with care as to the need of non alarm is the captains own way fer this to be handled. I shall walk with thee showing peaceful resolve.

[The Doctor]

:: Jack smiles appreciatively at Dr. Fitzgerald. He gains his feet, using his upper body strength to do most of the work ::

Thank you, Doctor. I understand your concerns, and I do appreciate it all. And you understand my nature. I promise that I shall not stray from Armand's side, and I shall return to your care should this be little more than an exchange of salutes. Now, to my effects...

:: Jack readies himself, and as quickly as manageable, he is more or less presentable for duty, armed, and using every available handhold in lieu of a crutch to make it topside. The sunlight is excrutiatingly bright as he reaches the main deck. Leaning up against the bulkhead, he spies an oar in need of repair. He takes it in his hands and smashes off the cracked paddle against a barrelhead, fashioning a makeshift walking stick from it. He makes his way furhter out onto the open deck, and looks back to the quarterdeck. There, he see the Captain, Quartermaster, Bosun, and the Doctor ::

Captain! Good to see you up and about sir! Master At Arms, Jack St. Anthony, reporting for duty, sir!

[William Brand]

"Run up sufficient flags to explain our position to the French, Mister Lasseter.

Good Doctor. We may be in need of your French quite soon. Can you tell me what ship that is bearing down on us?

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aye aye Cap'n...

::Mr Lasseter crosses the quarter to the flag locker.... he notes that some flags are either in disrepair or missing altogether... he picks out several, walks to the mizzen and starts to send them up in a string....::

I's hopin' they get th' gist o' wot needs ta be said...

::he finishes sending the flags aloft, ties off the line and returns to the Captain's side...::

Tha' should do it... told 'em we's assistin' a ship, caught fire... Anythin' else ta follow Cap'n?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon nods to the Captain's request and asks for the use of a 'glass. Scanning the other's legnth with care, a strange sense of familiarity comes to fore front. Dropping the glass away from sight, she looks to William, her brow knit with thought.

"Do not swear me to this, sir...But, I do beleive I know her for in recent past I may have walked her decks..."

[William Brand]

"Then do you know who Captains her?"

[Pew]

::Flying past scurrying crew members, I am grabbed by the Monsignor, thrown and armload of weapons and vault over the planking connecting us to the Danzig Trader.::

'Wot's in bloody 'ell goin on padre'?

::The monsignor and Tito both point towards the French ship to our starboard side slighty astern.::

Mr Tito, be that a Frenchman?

::He nods.::

'Tis about ta get 'nterestin' ah Padre'. . .

::The monsignor doesn't lose sight of the ship rapidly coming towards the Watch Dog. A sly smile comes to the edge of Johnson's lips as he hurries across the planking..::

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Shhhh! We are to keep the hostilities of the Dutch toward the French from collapsing all the hard work our Surgeon has done in alligning some reliable resources good mr PEW

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

"Then do you know who Captains her?"

The Surgeon studies the frigates line for a moment before replying...

"Oui....If she is who I suspect, she is Chasse de Mer...You remember a certain cutter, do you not?"

Tempest smiles mischievously at the Captain's subtle reaction.

"She is mastered by Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier, brilliant seaman and stratagist...Do not toy with him, is my advice. You do recall Capitaine Moreau? Fournier is an understudy to that gentleman's tutorage.....But, if it is as I suspect....I do not think you will be regretful of this visitation. Capitaine Fournier delivered the dispatch of request to Martinique. He has done us service...."

[Pew]

Aye, aye Padre'.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain! Good to see you up and about sir! Master At Arms, Jack St. Anthony, reporting for duty, sir!

:: at the sight of the Master at Arms on deck, and the words said, the QuarterMaster looks questioningly at the Captain...::

Saint Anth'ny?? I think 'e musta hit 'is 'ead harder than we think...

::Turning to Jack::

Ah, Lad... I need ye ta head ta th' Armoury... stay put there ready ta arm th' crew an' guard th' rest o' th' arms...

::he smiles at Jack, waiting for his orders to sink in...::

[Pew]

::Once aboard the Danzig Trader, Cut-throat and I move about the crew. As we look back towards the Watch Dog both of our expressions drop.::

Fo fuch's sake, Cut-throat, there on the gun deck be that our Master-at-arms?

[Captain Jim]

"Oui....If she is who I suspect, she is Chasse de Mer...You remember a certain cutter, do you not?"

*Taking up his position at the wheel of the Watch Dog, Jim overhears Tempest's comment about the cutter. He thinks to himself, "An' now 'ere be another o' yer past deeds comin' 'ome ta trouble ye."*

[William Brand]

"Then do you know who Captains her?"

The Surgeon studies the frigates line for a moment before replying...

"Oui....If she is who I suspect, she is Chasse de Mer...You remember a certain cutter, do you not?"

Tempest smiles mischievously at the Captain's subtle reaction.

"She is mastered by Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier, brilliant seaman and stratagist...Do not toy with him, is my advice. You do recall Capitaine Moreau? Fournier is an understudy to that gentleman's tutorage.....But, if it is as I suspect....I do not think you will be regretful of this visitation. Capitaine Fournier delivered the dispatch of request to Martinique. He has done us service...."

William nodded. Only that. Just a nod.

He scanned the Chasse de Mer, certain that the name had something to do with "driving out the sea", or something like it. And she was certainly doing that. Making progress across the water at speed.

"We shall stay where we are for now. We must appear as unmoved by her presence as possible. No captain worth his salt would sink two ships that he could take whole without a fight, and since I think the French mean not to fight, we shall remain calm."

William turned to see the Master-at-Arms making the gun deck. The Monsignor and his small band were moving about the Danzi Trader and all the officers and crew of the Watch Dog were at hand.

"Excellent. Mister Youngblood. Have you men at the ready with poder and shot and stand to your stations. We shall keep the guns stowed and unloaded, but I should like to make a show of our strength by having your men standing at the ready."

[The Doctor]

:: Jack makes his way to the gunwale, looking first at the crippled Dutch ship, then at the French man of war bearing down on us. He returns his attention to the Dutch ship, watching the edginess of her crew as the French approach ::

My, this could get ugly, indeed. I do hope our Dutch "friends" behave themselves this day...

:: Jack turns his attent to the crew on deck. In tones that carried no overt urgency, but much authority, he began to instruct the barge crew to make ready, and for a handful of select men to take up arms ::

We shall do nothing to alarm our Dutch "guests," nor shall we react in haste to our French visitors. They mean to impress, not engage. We may be vigilant, good sirs, and prepared. But it a soul takes up arms out of turn and without instruction, I shall personally dump your shrouded corpse over the side. Now, look smart, gentlemen. We have company to prepare for.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::overhearing the conversation between the Captain and Surgeon, Mr. Lasseter smiles slightly....::

So, mayhaps this'll be a pleasant reunion?

:: listening to his captain about a show of force, he nods and realizes he has one of his Dragoon pistols, the one he took from Armand, still in hand.... with a sideways look about he nonchalantly eases it into his belt... reaches into his pocket and draws forth his glass... gives the french ship a once over with it...::

[William Brand]

"Mister Warren. Please have your barge crew at the ready, should we need the use of the Samson."

[Captain Jim]

"Captain, a word iffen I may? As 'andsome a face as I 'ave, it may be best if I were not spotted by any Frenchmen that may 'ave a familiarity wi' it. Ther be four on tha' ship tha' were relieved o' their cutter, an mayhap wish to return some sort o' retribution..."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Fournier mulled over the messege returned and ordered a change of course to round the other frigates stern. Like a well oiled machine, sails were adjusted to want and the "Hunter of the Seas" danced around in smooth seeking of new bearing.

"Lieutenant Lamaire...Re-request a show of colors and relay that we wish to speak with that frigate's capitaine, s'il vous plait."

"Oui, Capitaine"

[Dorian Lasseter]

::as the Quartermaster looked at the french frigate through his glass, a set of flags were run up...::

Aye Cap'n.... They ah... they be askin' us ta show 'r colours... an'... she be changin' course... she be comin' 'round... mayhaps ta rake 'r stern... I thinks we should load Geri an' Freki.... an' send word ta them on th' danzig... she got two nice twelve pounder brass sternchasers... have 'em load up too....

:: He looked to the Captain for his orders...::

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

Having passed the word throughout the below decks on the Dutch merchantman Cutthroat and meself did find a right nice young man speaks English better than me mother he does and so we snatched 'im up to do our translating as the need to's arise.

Simple orders: the marines are to remain below. The crew go about normal duties and tasks in no state of alarm and the less staring at our visitor the better.

The orders most well understood were translated and I could see by the responses to all those told it was well understood the importance of this meeting here in this sea right now at this time.....

Any hostile act will be handled by death.

We moved back up onto the deck meeting Tito and Mr Pew

Mr P E W was standin arm cocked over a deck swival and Tito was inspectin the ratlines.

Gods work below is done I said.

[Captain Jim]

“Aye Captain…Barge Crew! Assemble a’ the rail ye scabrous dogs an’ be quick! We’s work ta’ be doin’.” *Turning back o the captain…,* “Weapons Captain?”

[William Brand]

“Aye Captain…Barge Crew! Assemble a’ the rail ye scabrous dogs an’ be quick! We’s work ta’ be doin’.” *Turning back o the captain…,* “Weapons Captain?”

"Aye, Mister Warren" William said, not taking his eyes off the French frigate.

"Mister Lasseter, confirm the flag configuration. I have it differently."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

A second gun was fired to prod respones from the other ship. Fournier stood stock still, 'glass centered upon movement occuring upon either of the near distant decks. Any act of aggression portrayed from the two lazily bouncing to water's desire would be a poor choice to make and if the master of yon frigate were a gentleman of any worth, he would know as such. The other frigate's current situation put them at grave disadvantage to make with foolishness.

Fournier lowered the 'glass, he was a patient man and would not show a force of hand on whim.