Pyrates of the West Coast

[William Brand]

William turned to the Chasse de Mer. She was well made, fleet of foot and heavily armed. Her cannon were a of a fine make and might out perform the mismatched gathering of cannons gleaned to arm the Watch Dog. The Chasse de Mer was a fighting machine, stem to stern.

"She would be a tough bird to slaughter."

William turned to Mister Lasseter. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me honestly, Mister Lasseter. Did you know whom you were signing under when you agreed to my post as Captain?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Mr. Lasseter looks at the captain, raises his eyebrows and smiles...::

Well... considerin' I was made QuarterMaster under a different Cap'n... I suppose I didn't... Ye was Master 't Arms afore... did right fine there I thought... then ye be put ta be made Cap'n... I thinks ye be doin' fine now... An' fer th' matter... I may 'ave heard one 'r more o' yer names through th' years... lot 'appened durin' th' last war... heard lots o' names... I's sure me own name don't ring a bell... I ain't e'en sure I's mentioned in a few o' His Majesties reports.... Bah!

:: He looks away from the captain, around the ship and rigging, across the water to the Danzig Trader, the space between them growing, and the space between the Chasse de Mer also growing, but very little... their station changing as the wind and waves batted them about....::

[William Brand]

"I might have made you coxswain, Mister Lasseter." William said, laughing for the first time since leaving the company of Fournier. "But if you are steering about the rocks of my life, then know that I don't mind you knowing of them."

William looked straight up into the rain and noted Ciaran bundled and peering out aloft.

"In 1696 I took a Dutchman a prize on the wrong side of the war. I have been wanted and unwanted ever since."

William pauses, not to give Mister Lasseter a chance to respond, but to decide what passages of his life to read aloud. There are so many to choose from.

"Their Captain...this Fournier...he knows who I am. And either he likes it not, or he does not know how to proceed knowing what he knows. And since He does not know, I do not know. I do not like not knowing, Mister Lasseter. I do not like it one little bit."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Agreed... not knowin' is unlikeable.... I s'pose we'll find out soon... least I 'ope soon...

::he puts his hand to his scruffy chin, again reminding himself that a shave is very much needed in the near future...::

Ah, 1696..... where was I then? Oh aye... pressed off a merchant... in a two decker of 'is Majesty... learnt much... an' I find it almost ironic... hated them officers... now look at me...

::he looks back at the captain...::

I care not about yer past.... th' devil wi' th' dutchies... they cause trouble for 'emselves... as fer bein' on th' wrong side... never is a right side, cos o' some fluffy wig settin' in a grande house makin' rules fer ta run wot they thinks right.... I'd like ta see 'em on a front line... piss 'emselves n' fall ta peices...

:: he stops his line of thought...::

Fournier... ye says th' cap'n o' th' frenchy be Fournier? Hmmm... ah... it escapes me.... Aye, would be a hard one ta beat... most odd fer th' french....

[William Brand]

William smiled all the while, listening to Mister Lasseter reduce parliaments and wars to the simplest terms imaginable, nodding more than once along the way.

"Mister Lasseter, you are a wise and noble sage in an age of reason gone awry. I tip my hat."

And indeed, William removed his rain soaked hat and tipped it.

"You, sir, are relieved. Get yourself to a shaving mirror and a hot meal. I'll not lose a good councilor to hair and bad weather. Now go glean yourself some much needed rest. Be sure to send word to the cook while you are there, that hot broth shall be the order of the day. I want hot broth all around and a kettle of the stuff sent aloft to the lookouts."

Then William's face sobered a bit. He leaned close, so not to send word to anyone but Mister Lasseter.

"Sleep while you may. We may be in storms ever after today's has passed. I have the deck."

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Being humbled by the Captain's praise, he gives him a small bow... and at the order of being relieved nods his assent::

Aye Cap'n... I'll see iffn' we still got somat hot... had ta put th' cook fire over th' side when the weather turned...

::he then headed below, down to the galley. The cook was fixing some warm salt beef, still warm from the last meal...::

Aye Lass... Might there be some broth about as well as th' beef?

::She smiles and nods pointing to the large crock in the corner...::

Lovely... Cap'n would have some sent aloft ta th' lookouts soon as ye can...

I'll 'ave a plate o' tha' iffn' ye please? Thankee...

::He takes his plate back to his cabin and fills his belly, washing it down with rum... Once sated, he pulls off the oilskin coat, followed by his blue coat, then off with the pistols and sword, kept dry under all the outer garments. Off came the wesket leaving him in his shirt sleeves...::

Hrrmm... weather calmed a bit... no time like th' present.... face's a'ready wet...

:: Opening his seachest, and finding the box of possibles, he opened it and drew fourth a straight razor, testing it he found it to be sharp enough... he lay it down next to the basin, then drew out a heel of a cake of soap in a dish, along with a brush... Using some water from his basin he wetted the brush, he then drew up a lather from the soap with it, transfering the lather to his face. Setting those asside he retrieved the straight razor and in the low light began to remove the coarse hair from his jaw...::

[William Brand]

The darkness of the middle watch was dark indeed that morning. Three times during the night, the dim lamps of the Danzig Trader disappeared off their larboard bow, and the Chasse de Mer was simply a shape, occasionally illuminated by lightning.

William sent for Rummy several times during those hours, with regular reports on the Watch Dog's seams and holds. Sailors kept to the bilge pumps to remove what water came aboard as rain, but everywhere else aboard, all was as tight as a drum.

William was ever passing back and forth from larboard to starboard rails with his glass to keep a watchful eye on the Danzig Trader and the Chasse de Mer. Both seemed to be passing the storm with relative ease, but William worried most for the Danzig.

She was too high in the water with the loss of the mast weight of the main and mizzenmast, so she bobbed on the surface more than he liked. It couldn't be helped. They were unable to supply sufficient ballast this far out to sea. The Master Carpenter seemed assured that the Danzig would take on no more water than was customary for a ship during heavy rains, and so William hoped it would be so.

The storm continued to howl as morning passed, noted only by the bells.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As the gale relenquised some of its anger, the Capitaine and First Lieutenant retreated to the warmth and dry comfort of Great cabin surround. The Capitaine's servant bustled to and fro, removing wet outer clothing to be serviced and laying a spread of cold meats, cheeses, bread and Bordeaux upon the mahagony surface.

Both men sat quietly, enjoying the concept of not being soaked to the bone and savoring the simple spead of nourishment in late hour. As the plates were removed and a fresh decanter of Calvados replaced the heavy wine, Dominique looked questioningly to his cousin, choosing his words with care as he sampled the heady manner within crystal encompassment.

"Jean..." Lamaire started hesitantly as the other's eyes centered upon him; the younger cleared his throat softly in reconsideration of how to proceed.

"Cousin, I am only to assume that perhaps our buissness with the other ship is not concluded...I know you too well and under normal circumstance, we would have made way for the inlet north of here to ride out the weather..."

Fournier gave a minute nod of accord to the words spoken, unconsciencously whirrling the contents of goblet in slow spin to the sound of stern window's rattle. Stopping movement, the amber sights studied the slow of centerfuge and at the show of stopping, sipped the goblet's offering then shifted in position of seating. With a tincture of wry smile, Fournier contiued to scrutinize the crystal content.

"I am sure this conjecture of hypothosis is not just of your own..." he sided.

"Non...It is irregular and some have asked as such..."

The capitaine leaned forward to elbow support as dampened legnth of raven's wing hue gained partial freedom of shoulder barrier to hang limply as facial border. With a pause of contemplation, the servent was called to fetch the teak hinged box. After delivery of request, he slipped away once again as if his presence had never occured at all. Fournier unlatched the delicate keeper and released the lid to give air to content, turning it about face, he slid it over for inspection.

Dominique looked from his cousin's expression, to the open maw then back with subtle indication of query and seeing the silent nod of assent, removed what was contained, with scar ravaged hand. Fournier watched quietly as Dominique's expression changed its vissage as the text was gleened...

************************************************************

Whereas His sacre' Majesty Louis XIV, by the grace of God, King and defender of the Faith, etc.

Hath an Open and Declared War against England, her Supporters, Vassals and Subjects. And Forasmuch as you have made Application unto Me for Licence to Arm, Furnish and Equip the said Frigate in warlike manner, against his Majesties said Enemies, I do accordingly Permit and Allow the same; And, reposing special Trust and Confidence in your Loyalty, Courage and good Conduct, Do by these Presents, by Virtue of the Powers and Authorites contained in His Majesties Royal Commision to Me granted, Impower and Commisionate you, the said William Hollande, to be Capitaine de Fregate of the said vessel Watch Dog: hereby Authorizing you in and with the said frigate and Company to her belonging, to War, Fight, Take, Kill, Suppress and Destroy any considered to be suspected or Declared Enemies of the Crown of France, In what Place soever you shall happen to meet them; Their Ships, Vessels and Goods, to take and make Prize of. And your said Frigates Company are Commanded to Obey you as their Capitaine: And your self in the Execution of this Commission, to Observe and Follow the Orders and Instructions herewith given you. And I do hereby Request all Gouverneurs and Commandants en Chef, of any of His Majesties Territories, Islands, Provinces or Plantations, where the said Capitaine de Fregate shall arrive with his said Vessel and Men: And all Amirals, Vice-Amirals and Capitaines de Fregate of His Majesties Ships of War, and others that may happen to meet him at sea; Also all Officers and Subjects of the Friends or Allies of His said Sacre' Majesty, to permit him the said Capitaine de Fregate with his said Vessel, Men, and the Prizes that he may have taken, freely and quietly to pass and repass, without giving or suffering him to receive and Trouble or Hindrace, but on the contrary all Succour and Assistance needfull.

Given under my Hand and Seal at Arms at Fort-de-France, Martinique; In Honor of France and His Majesties Reign

By His Exellencies Command,

Gouverneur Louis-Claude Garavaque

(comp. 09/03/05 F.T.H.M)

************************************************************

The First Lieutenant grasped near standing spirit vessel, downed the content and re-read the parchement before offering an expression of sudden realization and a hint of confusion to the other. Placing the document back within its holding cell, Dominique raised a brow as he spoke secretively...

" This is...that is a..." The wording seemed to die in his throat.

Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier sampled casually from his goblet, the content once again beginning its centerfuge spin.

"Oui...a Marque...or rather a copy of the original document to be served..."

Silence ruled the room, its command intermittantly disturbed by rattle of wood bordered glass tugged by the tendril's of storm induced fingers, prying encasement in hopes of victory in possesion.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The dimness of storm lantern did its best to illuminate the Infirmerie while the Surgeon paced its legnth to the passive watchfulness of the Gascon. Back and forth, hands clasped tightly behind back as the planking below shifted with the storm's demand of water's manner. Occasionally she would pause as if a sudden revalation had made itself apparent, only to be dismissed by wave of hand or mutter of vanquishing; and the pacing would resume.

Knowing over well what effect any comment would have, Armand simply refilled the tin cup in near company and kept silent vigil at the desk. Eventually this constant strike of boot heel would stop, it was only a matter of time and nothing would deter it until the courses had been run. After ensuring that the Armoury was secured, he had ignored the Master at Arms' verbal resitance of aid and helped the man to the private quarters assigned him. With the knowledge that Jack was well provided for, the Frenchman had gained the upper decks in search of the one who now tried to wear a path before him. Resisting steely glare and words of protest, he had convinced the Surgeon to the safety of these walls. This was one of those circumstances that could only be labled kindly as a test of cool head and calm mannerisms, for the smallish mademoiselle was fired up and it was best to allow this quality to run out of steam on its own....And finally it did.

Joining him near the desk, Tempest took a seat and removed the soaked thru leather boots with a toss to the side. Armand glanced to her cassually with cocked brow and hint of smile.

" Meilleur pour le moment? " he chided.

Her eyes narrowed slightly...." Non. "

"Que sera, sera?" he offered.

She answered with exasperated sigh.

" You know that there is nothing to be done for the moment. Whatever happened over there will be known soon enough..."

Armand offered his tin cup to her, " I trust the Capitaine's judgement and am sure that he would not...faire l'imbicile."

"Non...I do not think he would play the fool, either. I just wish to know what transpired over there and curse myself for not insiting upon being there. I know Capitaine Fournier and judging from what manner William arrived back, it is my suspicion that things are not as they could be..."

Tempest paused to down the draught and handed the cup back looking earnestly to her companion.

" I need to know what has happened. I need to speak with William....I need to speak with Fournier...There are things that could be swinging in awkward balance and I need to ensure that the balance is laid to rights for this is no simple matter and Jean-Micheale Fournier is anything but a simple minded creature."

She reached for the past the proffer of refilled tin cup to the content's origin and pulling deeply from the fluid fire, closed her eyes to the roar of nature's wrath.

[William Brand]

The second bell of the morning watch sounded as the daylight, both greasy and grey, crept into the angry and stormy morning sky.

William was wet through, as was every crew member who kept those early hours on the weather decks. The rain was lessened, but not gone. More than once, William slipped and almost fell as the Watch Dog pitched a little on a healthy wave. It wasn't weather requiring life lines, but it was enough to send a sailor or two against the rail for support or vomiting.

William sent for the Bosun and turned over the deck watch to him, going below to the galley. There he found Christine looking care worn and tired, but laboring to feed the watches coming off the ropes or heading to them. She gave him a warm smile and he conversed with her on many unimportant subjects as he sipped hot broth. Her winning smile had a way of lifting a day's labor.

After a time he thanked her for the food and conversation before ordering himself to bed and needed rest.

[Captain Jacob Badger]

As the steady rain washed over his face.....the Bo'sun pondered on something Mr. Youngblood had said earlier t' last day.......while the tense moments of the frenchy frig had been the play......''something about a......''. He cursed himself fer drinkin' too much as a boy. The memories just flow away like the tide sometimes!...''Dammit!....'twas somethin' t' do wi' the frenchy....but wot?''......Shakes 'is head and wipes the rain again from his eyes...''ARRR Bugger it!..''..........''You man, heave that line taught!!....he shouts at the lad.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

With a tour of early morning inspection put to momentary rest, Fournier had retried to the surface of writting desk within his sleeping chambers. The night had been long and wearisome with overseeing the safety of ship and crew; but the storm's fury was subsiding its hold, though it seemed to be with a relunctant manner. Foutunately, there was no damage to report and only three crewmen had obtained injury of minor infraction from the toss and turn. Not satisfied with the conditions still remaining, Jean-Micheale had not issued permission for the relighting of galley fire a decision that was one of need and not want for he took no pleasure in the denial of hot food and liquid's comfort to those that served him so earnestly. There was hope with the signs of gale's weakening, that it would soon beat a retreat and discontinue its plagueing mannerisms.

The only advantage presented with the long hours sustained in wakefulness, was the fact that with the demands of duty, he had been able to puzzle the situation floating nearby to some resolve. With the pouring of libation from eloquated decanter, the Capitaine procured a sheet of parchement, unstopped inkwell and set to the task of scribeing correspondence that would be dispatched to Capitaine William "Hollande". With proper protocol, a request was issued in regard to private audience upon the other's frigate. There was no demand to the wording, no sign of threatening airs and far from any underlying manner of presumptuousness...Jean-Micheale Fournier had better things to do than play games of overbearing intentions, he considered such manners below him.

Sipping from the crystal offering, he allowed the ink time to dry and considered the options that had presented themselves to mental prowess in the wee hours. When safe passage could be assured to cross the small distance that sepperated the ship's stance, Capitaine Fournier would have his cousin deliver the request and wait for an answer. It could easily be done by a lesser officer, but he knew that Lamaire had a way of putting other's at ease and his command of l'Anglais tongue was as good as his own. Refilling the glass of slender stemed wrought, he leaned further into the comfort of chair and wondered at the events pending with sidelong glance to the hinged teak box sitting innocently to his left.

Time was of the essence, the wheels dictated by Fate were already grinding into motion and gaining headway...

[Captain Jim]

The storm had taken its toll on the crew, and it had also taken its toll on various parts of the ship. Mister Warren, as part of the duties of the coxswain, inspected the steering gear as the storm abated. Starting at the oaken ship’s wheel and working toward the massive rudder, he examined each inch of the connecting cable. At the larboard turning block, Jim found some chafing, nothing to be alarmed about, but something that had to be put to order. Ten feet of cable spliced in, wormed, served and parceled, as well as worming the starboard gear would prevent any future chafing. The rest of the steering cable seemed in order.

Going forward to the cable tier, he passed the rest of the crew, each in turn trying to overcome the effects of the storm. Sodden clothes and steel tools needed attention so as not to rot away into uselessness. All in all the ship and crew had weathered the storm well, nothing to worry the average sailor.

Gaining the cable tier, Jim began the search for supplies needed for the repairs. Some of the cable was massive, four inches in diameter and difficult to move. Struggling with one length of cable, Jim uncovers a parcel, tied in oilcloth and secreted away in a place unlikely to be found by accident. But an accident did find it. Unwrapping the parcel Jim finds a cutlass, one very similar to that belonging to the Captain; it could be its twin. “How did you get here?” Jim reties the cutlass in the parcel and returns it to its hiding place. A short time later, supplies in hand, Jim searches for the Quartermaster.

“Mister Lasseter, a word if I may sir?”

[Captain Jim]

"Quartermaster, I don’t want ta be botherin’ the Captain just now, ‘e be needin’ ‘is rest, as we all do. I need ta tell ye about a sword, one tha’ looks just like the Captain’s, hidden away up in the cable tier. I had noticed on the barge tha’ the Captain be not carryin’ ‘is cutlass, but tha mortuary sword. It be wrapped in oilcloth an squirreled away under some heavy cable an’ I thought ye needed ta know, unsecured weapon an’ all. "

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I could see under the clouds off to the east the storm was gunna be passin us bye within the bells call. Two, three on the most. The ships though with all considered took through the squalls and wind waves with no adversities.

I in me solitary preparing for me next service to be given finds meself wishin I were somehow with ale.....Praying for a nice day to come out of this storm but I having been too long on the waters in these here parts knows the winds ahind these storms are the temper of God's war iron. And it's gonna blow tonight. We are certainly going to need as much distance as we can muster atween us and the Trader.

[William Brand]

"Quartermaster, I don’t want ta be botherin’ the Captain just now, ‘e be needin’ ‘is rest, as we all do. I need ta tell ye about a sword, one tha’ looks just like the Captain’s, hidden away up in the cable tier. I had noticed on the barge tha’ the Captain be not carryin’ ‘is cutlass, but tha mortuary sword. It be wrapped in oilcloth an squirreled away under some heavy cable an’ I thought ye needed ta know, unsecured weapon an’ all. "

Mister Lasseter was just turning from the galley with a plate of food to begin his busy day when the Coxswain brought him news of a surprising discovery. He nodded at the importance of such a revelation, and with a sigh, he handed over his plate to another crew member.

They made there way to the cable tier only to discover that there was nothing there to discover. The Quartermaster gave Mister Warren a questioning look.

"I assure you, Quartermaster that..."

Mister Lasseter raised a hand to quiet the Coxswain as his mind considered on the ramifications of the secreted cutlass and its second disappearance.

"Mister Warren, find Mister Sons and do a search o' the ship. Find tha' cutlass and the party responsible."

[Pew]

::Finishing up the last scraps on my plate, I head back topside to catch a breath of sea air. In the back of my mind, I cannot forget about Van Buren. He hasn't been seen since our first meeting with the Danzig Trader. I travel towards the bow to find Mr. Youngblood.::

[Pirate Petee]

*turns to see Mr. Pew aproching.*

Oy, Mr pew ya look like ya be recoverin just nicely.

[The Doctor]

:: With all appropriate care, Jack makes his way toward the crew spaces. This damnable business with two crewmen assaulted, a missing Dutchman aboard, and that French warship... Strange business, indeed. His makeshift cane thumped against the steps leading down to the crew's quarters, and Jack smiles wryly about his speed and stealth as of late. He hears the squeak of hinges, a loud thud, and the sound of a running man's bootheels.

Jack rushes his progress to the crew deck, pulling his pistol as he clears the doorway. He cocks the weapon as he yells out ::

You there! Show yourself! It shall be better for you if you end this folly now!

:: He listens for a moment, letting his words hang in the air, know full well that the person had already escaped by the aft companionway. Jack begins surveying the crew's effects as he quietly makes his way along the deck. About one-third of the way, he notices an unlocked sea chest with a bit of clothing poking out of it. He keeps his eyes up, scanning for any movement as he uses his cane to open the chest. The sound of the hinges fails to produce whoever had been so curious about it's contents, so he sets about searching within.

A shift or two of clothes, a Bible in Dutch... Jack opens the from cover, and reads the name on the coverleaf - "Van Buren". Beneath the bible is a warm-weather shirt, wadded up unlike the other neatly folded clothing. Jack looks about the deck again, and picks up the shirt. It is far heavier than it should be, and he soon discovers why as he turns back the fabric...

A doglock pistol. Having just spent a good deal of time in the Armoury, Jack knows immediately that this weapon was never declared. "Well, Mr. Van Buren," he thinks to himself. "Just when I believe you have hit bottom, I look, and you're digging..."

He concludes his search of Van Buren's sea chest, and returns to the main deck to present his find to the Quartermaster ::

Mr. Lasseter! A word with you sir. In private, if you please. I have something of interest.

:: Jack and the Quartermaster stand away from the crewmen. He presents his discovery, and explains where and how he managed to come by it ::

[Pew]

Aye sah. Thankee sah.

'Bouts Mr Van Buren. I 'aven't seen 'im since we first met the Danzig Trader. Me wents below to look for the powder monkey and ended up getting thumped on the back of me 'ead. Permission to go below with Tito and Mr John to resume the search sah.

[Pirate Petee]

Aye, ya jus be careful. I's bout ta talk ta da Cap'n bout da subject, but then wes got rolled up upon by dat french ship. I'll goes an talks ta da quartermaster bout it.

[Pew]

Right sah.

We be standing fast 'til we 'ears from you sah.

[Captain Jim]

With orders from the Quartermaster to find the missing sword and the person responsible for its presence on the ship, Jim set off in search of Mr. Sons. Shipwreck John and Jim had not worked closely together since the ill-advised commandeering of the French cutter. From that escapade, Jim knew Shipwreck to be a bold and fearless companion in the search for the missing sword and the sailor who had it.

“Things are gettin’ out o’ hand ‘ere. ‘Twill be good to ‘ave ol’ Ship watchin’ me back.”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The skies had given up some of their dinginess as the day had worn on, the galley fires had been relit, much to the crew's pleasure and the wind's had returned to the lightened luft of ussual nature. Capitaine Fournier waited as the men chosen to accompany gained the cutter's hollowed curviture below. The attire chosen for this crossing was not of as formal a nature as the guise choosen before, something given to much thought in the sense that such formality may stir feelings of uptight manner. Tucked neatly within one of the large pockets gracing velvet coat's lower region, nestled the teak box. Jean-Micheale waited patiently as Lamaire took seat in the waiting launch and glanced up with a daring grin for the Capitaine to follow.

With a moment's consideration, the Frenchman followed the Lieutenant's wake and sat with a certain air of steeled calm as orders were issued of Coxswain's call and the bow pulled a bit to port before evening in tragectory in want of the other frigate's proximity. As the launch neared the other, Lamaire stood and called to the various expressions mingled at the edges of English design, some hardened, other's merly curious.

" We request permission to board...."

[William Brand]

It was difficult not to be troubled by the sudden appearance and disappearance of weapons aboard the Watch Dog and Mister Lasseter didn't like it one bit. He had been about to tell the Captain when Fournier arrived by cutter and requested permission to come aboard.

Shortly after arriving on the deck, the Quartermaster escorted him directly to the Ward Room, where he went in to speak privately with the Captain.