Port Royal, Jamaica

[Ransom]

The caughing got closer, until with a final hack, a bizarre figure appeared in the doorway leading to the hall. He stood stout as a barrel, on legs too short for his width. Wild, faded-auburn hair sprouted from his chin and escaped the colorful Turkish-style head wrap that covered his head. Clothing his powerful form was a long, stained, tatty scholar's robe full of burn holes—one of which still smouldered.

He glared at me with one fierce eye cocked. "Who the devil are you?"

Wiping sulfurous tears from my eyes, I replied, "Not the mouse you were looking for. Who, sir, are you?"

"Where is Souris? What have you done with the boy?" He stepped into the room, raising a fist in my direction. "If you've done any harm tae the boy, I'll strangle you with mae bare hands!"

I held up my own hands, palms out. "Souris is safe, so far as I know. Unless your cat has eaten him."

The man looked at the cat, still cowering under the table. "Cleopatra might'ave scratched him a few times, but she'd nae stoop so low as tae eat the devil." He turned his fiery gaze back to me. "Sae, who are you, and what are you doing in mae house?"

I gave him a courtly bow. "My name is Ransom, sir, and I am in your house only so long as it takes the soldiers to look elsewhere for an assissin. Then I will be gone and you can continue your...experiment." I pointed to his shoulder. "You're still on fire, you know?"

He pounded out the cinder, then grabbed a nearby candle iron. "I want nae killer in mae house. Get ye gone!"

"I'm no killer, but soldiers have a sorry tendency to arrest first and ask questions later."

He inspected me closer. "You're nae a lad, though you dress like an urchin. And what sort of a name is Ransom?"

"It's the name I go by, for the time being. Now, as you know my name, I think it only polite that you tell me yours."

He grinned, showing teeth large as harpsichord keys. "Professor Angus Trilby, late of Oxford University—very late, as it happens."

"Ah, hence the robe." I gestured at the aged garment. "And the turban?"

"Well, I might be a hairy devil from the nose down, but on mae head, other than a bit of fringe tae keep mae ears warm, I'm bald as a cannon ball. Keeps my pate from frying in this God-cursed heat." He gestured toward the interior of the house. "Might as well make yourself confortable. Soldiers ain't the smartest lot, so it'd be better to give thm a bit of time to sort things out. I've got a nice bottle of port and a Mediera cake I'd be pleased tae share with you."

"I would be honoered, sir." I followed the walking barrel, shaking my head as his speech drifted between Oxford ton, and country Scott, while Cleopatra trotted ahead of us.

Professor Trilby pointed at the feline. "Cleopatra just loves mae Madeira cake."

[Cheeky Actress]

The hours began to fade into twilight. The little room’s light started to fade into the corners. Shadows now crept their way into her chamber. With a disgusted look, Lilly pushed away the tray and paused for a moment. The image of her beloved Captain was still fresh in his mind. “What will become of me if he is dead?” Symms, now half asleep, tottered on the edge of the only surviving chair in the room. “You must not think of such things.” Lilly rubbed her eyes. “I know my fate and I now must accept it. God has not shown me any grace and I am to become the thing I hate the most.” Symms was about to reply when there was a heavy knocking upon the door.

Lilly flopped back into her bed. “Send them away, Symms. I do not wish to see anyone…not like this!” Symms ignored her request and opened the door slow. There, once again, was the small boy that had requested the Captain’s audience earlier that morning. “YOU!” Hissed the old man. “What do you wish of my Captain now?” The boy entered the room and looked about, only to see Symms and Mistress Lilly. “I’ve been instructed by my Mistress to inform you that the Captain is alive and safe.” Lilly quickly sat up in her bed and looked almost shocked. “He is held up at the Devereaux household and will remain until Dr. Rieley see him fit.” “I must go to him!” She said grabbing her shoes from under the bed.

“You cannot go anywhere!” Yell Symms. “Not with Killingsworth still out there scheming on how he can get his hands upon you!” “Beg your pardon, sir.” The small boy interjected. “Word be that Killingsworth was brought down. Injury or even dead they say.” Lilly again gave expression of disbelief. “Then I am free of this place and no longer have to fear Killingsworth!”

[Liam Finn]

"Where'd ya find that?" I ask staring at the bloodied dagger still dripping upon the floor.

"Where'd I get this? why, from his own belt. . . ." I point to the empty sheath on his side, then proceed to strip the dead guard of his worldly posessions. "get the hafpike, watch tha hatchway." I continue to rifle the still warm body for anything else of worth and find a small pouch with some coins in it, a folding knife and a set of dice. "won't be needin these anymore ye bastard." Not finding anything else, I drag his body to the barrels and prop him up as if he were asleep. "Nothin left for im, let's get off this scow." Ian nods to me and I can see the gleem of his teeth. He follows me as we head up out of the hold very quietly. Up the ladder to the berthdeck and across to one of the starboard guns. Only one or two lights are lit here as the late day sun filters through the gratings. We push open the gun port hatch and see the lights of the Port Royal, looking at Ian I again see his smile."You first." he says, so I slip through the opening and hang down into the water until I can't hold on. I splash a little and as I come up I see Ian go under. When he comes up I smile at him. "Won't even miss us.... buggerin bastards... " We both start swimming towards shore as soon as the ship gets farther away.

[Aurore Devareaux]

As Soliel moved from East to more Westerly placement, Aurore lit small lamps around the chamber to aid in chasing shadows. Propped comfortably next to Sterling, she quietly read aloud short tales of popular author. A small stirring of breeze bore pungent scent of tropical flora thru windows braced open in cooling effort.

He dozed off and on as she spoke softly the words from leather bound volume. She had not questioned the conversation taken place ealier betwixt he and Christophe. If its' subject was ment for her knowledge, Aurore presumed she would hear of it eventually.

Crystal goblet of dark wine content was sampled then replaced upon near bedside table. Drawing her knees up, the book was supported to oil luminous reveal. She snuck an affectionate sidelong glace to him fleetingly, then continued the telling of written tale chosen.

[Capt. Sterling]

He shifted cautiously, just enough to look up at her. Sterling had lost track of how long she had been reading, he had even lost track of what and he wondered how long he had been asleep. As she sat in careful comfort next to him, he could not help but run his finger along her arm from elbow to wrist.

"I am sorry Chere, I have fallen asleep on ye again. I seem to be the poorest company. What says the clock?" he asked, not wishing to even think of having to turn to view what the window could tell him.

[Aurore Devareaux]

His caress brought a trace of smile to her lips as she looked away from volume. Aurore set it aside then carefully scooted down from pillow support to lay at his side face to face.

"Non..no apologies," she said softly. "I am unsure of the time, I seem to have lost track though the skies are darkening."

Leaning forward, she placed a brief kiss on his brow, " Time is of no great import now, just rest."

[Capt. Sterling]

He felt her soft brush against his skin. When she pulled back, just enough to look upon him, he was lost...Completely, utterly, entirely lost.

"Aurore.." her name sounded funny coming from his lips. He had always addressed her accordingly. He felt the colour in his cheeks heighten and for a moment he had to look away.

[Aurore Devareaux]

A minute furrow appeared on her brow at his summons then turn away.

"Comment? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" she questioned with concern.

[Capt. Sterling]

He wished he could turn, take her where she lay, be a part of her as he had... so few hours ago. But as he looked at her, he knew that, alone, would no longer be enough. He shook his head hoping to dismiss her question, hoping to calm any little foxes that may have come to gnaw at her thoughts, by their actions causing her fear or doubt. As she looked at him, again he felt overwhelmed by her and he knew he wanted her...all of her.

"Kiss me Lady," he whispered.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Aurore looked at his face with uncertainty and with his request, hesitated in brief to search his expression further. Whatever haunted him was not to be so easily deciphered and giving in, Aurore leaned forward once more to fullfill desire.

[Capt. Sterling]

He relished in the touch of her mouth to his, her lips soon parting, inviting him further. When he tried to follow, he turned and quickly broke away with a gasp… pain shooting through his shoulder and chest. He hurriedly forced himself to lay still again and could only smile at his own impatience and stupidity.

“Too soon,” he groaned. “And yet not soon enough.”

[Aurore Devareaux]

Concern fleeted Aurore's expression as she drew back. Being carefull as to not disturb bed surface beyond necessary, she reached for waiting goblet.

"Would you care to partake? Perhaps it will help or do you wish for me to find Monsiuer Reiley?"

[Capt. Sterling]

"No," he said, trying not to chuckle at her concern. "I am all right Chere... well mostly. And, a bit of a wait that I will have to endure tis something..." he sighed slightly. "Something I am sure I will survive. As to the doctor, I am certain he will be in more than enough this night to make both he and I tired and cross. So for now I shall make do as is. But enough of my selfishness. I have not heard how the day has gone for your poor brother. It seems I may have a knack for turning his world upside down. Have ye heard at all from him?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Suddenly Aurore felt a tinge of shame. In the events that had charged the course of morning's existance and the aftermath that had followed in turn, she had been absent of Molly's finale departure into ground embrace. The dark eyes cast a disturbed reflection as Aurore thought on the matter further.

"Non...He has not returned or sent message. Perhaps he is with Molly's sister and grand-maman..."

Sampling a small draught from crystal concave, she considered asking Christophe to send someone to the Shea domocile.

[Captain Striker]

Striker , Captain of the Spanish War Gallion La Maligna which is Flying under Danish colours .

Felt a twirl in his stomach . Striker was always careful when walking the streets or even sitting in a tavern and drinking. Always hidding in the dark , a shaddow amongst shaddows . It was almost as he was darkness , the darkness that was ever awake ... feeling ,watching , pryeing on it's targets .

He saw a noble man in wig and clad in fine silk, except the silk was smothered in large crimsom stains , run up the stairs .

Striker stod up moving towards the area the noble man ran from.

The sight that caught Strikers eyes made his stomach twitch. Yes , he had seen death and murder . He had even been the one comitting them , but never

a sweet young blossom as this.

There before him lay the servant girl Molly , all drenched in her own blood

Striker took a last look at the poor lass and sneaked out.

Always surrounded by shaddows , always in the shaddow he lives

[Ian Finn]

As dusk grew heavy and the white orb gained height in the sky, my brother and I continued to swim for shore.

Nearly a cable length from the ship, we hear the bell amidships begin to ring. Lanterns begin to flood the ship and surrounding sea with light. On our backs floating across the darkness, we hear a loud commotion arising on deck. Reaching shore soon after we sit a moment and watch the folly ensue.

Standing and patting my brother on his shoulder we rise and head into the outskirts of town.

"Wha' first?" I ask.

"Long clothes. Dry, I per'fer.." replies Liam trying to wring water out of his breeches.

"No shyte. Rhum perhaps, bruddah," I tell him shaking the water out of my hair.

Looking back at me he laughs, "Mum a'way's said you'd were th' dog o' th' litter."

Slowly stopping to finish wringing the water out of my hair, I bend down to pick up a rock. As Liam continues to walk forward I can barely make out his silouette against the lanterns hanging from a small shanty. Hurling the rock into his back, I race towards him. Turning quickly and bending low, Liam grabs me and throws me to the ground. Rolling and trying to clutch at each other Liam spins me around and locks one of his arms around my throat. Grasping my arms with his, he pins me to the ground.

"For fek's sake, wha's gotten inta yew?"

"Dog...litter..." I try to spit out as I am out of breath and his arm continues to impede my breathing. Trying to wriggle out of his hold, he loosens his grip.

Suddenly, a figure comes from the hut and begins yelling at us, "¿Qué hay? ¿Cómo se llama?, ¿Cómo se llama?"

[Liam Finn]

As the figure comes towards us I let me brother up and smile at the aproaching man. "Kay hay, ya say? co-mo say yama?" We look at each other and back at the man who is now close enough to see well. He has a wary look on his face as he approaches and is carrying a lantern, held chest high. I hold up my hands in a friendly fashion and smile at him. "Ahoy, friend... we've just arrived on yur land. . . . how's yur hospitality ta two poor sods?" I say while he creeps closer. 'You... you eenglesch?" I frown when he asks if we are english. "No, we ain't anglish! We hate tha anglish. . . . " The man asks again. "You no eengisch? hate eenglisch?" Ian pipes up "Thas right we hates tha eenglisch" he says mocking the mans accent. I smile wider and stroll over to the man and put an arm on his shoulder. He smiles weakly "No eenglisch, aha, aha. . . " I chuckle "No anglish Ha, Hahahahaha!" As we have a laugh a slip the dagger out of my back sheath, grab the man across his mouth and shove the dagger between his ribs. "Don't much like tha spanish much either. . ." I watch the life fade from him as he drops the lantern, the candle goes out as it falls on its side. "Good job me brudder" says Ian to me. "Aye it were, an don't you fahget it." I point the bloddy dagger at him, then wipe it off on the spaniards' shirt. "You check him fur valuables." Ian nods and starts rifling through the man's clothes, his dead eyes staring up into the sky.

[Aurore Devareaux]

The building was last in the line on small lane overlooking the Old Church's yard of eternal rest. Its' overall appearance was unobtrusive as those that nieghbored it across cobbled thruway and sharing the same side. Two stories, all told, its deed had been obtained three years previous, joining in the assets held by Le Cour and serving in kind. Water border to far side gave certain advantages to needs and pourpose readily put to service on various levels.

Sabastian sat on upended crate rubbing his temples in unconscious effort to drive away the ache plaguing cranial site. Still clad in funeral finery, he glanced tenatively to heavily barred door then away to where Seth sat. Childermass casually packed pipe's clay bowl while perched on matching crate furnishing, and paused in actions as if sensing the other's eyes.

"Twas the easiest Mark ever captured an' to think that two birds became one...," Childermass chuckled to himself in mild amusement while lighting tobbacco sacrifice. The air was instantly invaded by pungent scent. " A bird in hand..." he continued offhandedly.

Sabastian gave small nod in numbed acknowledgment, glancing to the roughly disgarded possessions of the one secured behind closed door. Events and exhaustion were taking toll, thinking clearly had become a luxury and not a right.

The sound of lock disengagement and hinge protest cut the silence and both men looked to stairwell landing. A reverse of sound reverberated upward to focused hearing, followed by footfall. Neither companion worried about new arrival, if owner of footfall had gained access then it was by right and consent.

Franklin's wide shouldered frame appeared on landing's surface, then moved to Beggar Prince's proximity with a side glance to scarred Old Tom shrouded in blueish smoke haze. Keeping his tone low, he addressed Sabastian; keeping mindful of he that was just beyond heavy door confinement.

"Thomas an' a couple o' the others are stayin' wit' the aul Dame as ye asked. I'm thinking tha' wot needs be done here will keep to the morrow. Me an' Seth can tend to wot needs tendin', some o' the others are down stairs an' ye should go on an' get some sleep, eh?"

Sabastian considered Franklin's words of wisdom, knowing inwardly that they rang true. He stood slowly, "Very well...And what of the other situation?"

"I got word from Robert tha' best as can be hoped for are the newest tidings." The large man would say no more in light of who was present in non-guilded confinement. Without further display of question or opinion's, Sabastian moved to stairwell. Nothing more need be said, his trust of Franklin and Chidermass' judgement gave him no reason for concern. Being assured that all else was seen to, Sabastian felt some of the tension leave his being.

He would attend older brother in the morning. Andre' had been contacted with the ealier happenings of the day and in turn, had given reply that staying in the Port overnight had been his intention. Word was being sent to the cottage to ease any further duress from Aurore's thoughts and now all Sabastian wished for was sleep. He bade current company good night, going below to waiting mount. Gaining stirrup and seating, acknowledgment was given to those standing post in structure's dark entrance as the Noir was turned for desired destination.

Soon he would retrace his steps to Venice Belle's worn bed and soft comforter; carnal frolics would not play ticking stage. Isabella would usher him in with open arms and though she would meld to his form in warm embrace for the night's duration; nothing more would be asked or given.

[Ian Finn]

"Fek. 'e ain't got shyte on 'im." Fumbling through his pockets I find a ring containing two keys. "Jes 'eez fekkin' keeyz."

[Reginald Killingsworth]

Cloistered away in his dingy keep, Killingsworth sat shackled and beaten. Exhausted from his engagement from the very first encounter with fist and foot, his body betrayed him with ache and pain. His stomach tightened as he tried to take a deep breath and as for his eye, ‘twas swollen and tender. His head pounded lightly and the weight of the shackles were heavy upon him.

But the pain he did not stop his retaliation of imprisonment. The shouts from him went unanswered behind the heavy oak door. Once again banging relentlessly upon its’ hard hued surface. He could hear them on the other side, yet their speech was low and soft.

With a sigh, Killingsworth sat back down upon the straw covered floor. The reality of the moment was beginning to sink in. What would his employer say if he were to hear of this horrid situation? It was obvious that he knew his outcome; death. But he was not going to give up hope. Not just yet. His name was known throughout the court and in certain circles that power meant more than money. Yet, he needed to try to send word to his employer. Was there no one in this town who would stand for him? No one came to mind.

A sudden feeling of dread took over him. ‘Tis my temper that has placed me here.’ He said to himself, then looking up at the stone-cladded roof. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I am not one for kneeling before you Lord to give prayer. But ‘tis this not the time when most men plead themselves to you and ask for mercy?” With a pause and a sly smile he continues with his thought. “Mercy? Ney, I do not ask for such a thing. But I will ask of you a favor in return….”

[Ransom]

Professor Trilby's house, of vaguely Spanish design, was a mad hash of Gypsy wagon, Apothecary's shop and museum of curiosities. Every available space was filled with dust-covered artifacts, book, bottles and disturbing statuary. As he led the way, I noticed planetary charts, anatomical studies, and African masks affixed to the walls. Underfoot were threadbare carpets of Persian design. Like an early morning mist, the sulfurous smoke hovered in the air to swirl and eddy as we passed. The cat sneezed.

In one dim room he paused, rummaged in a cupboard, and withdrew a covered plate and a corked bottle. I hoped the bottle contained Port, and not something deadly.

"Upstairs, I think. The air will be clearer." He turned abruptly to a narrow staircase with graceful iron railing.

I was surprised and relieved to find us on a small rooftop patio. A striped cloth provided shade for a small iron table and a mixed assortment of benches and chairs. In a far corner was a very dead plant in a cracked ceramic pot. In the other corner a fountain splashed.

I walked to the three foot wall that prevented patrons from falling from the roof, and looked out over Port Royal. "You've a rare view," I commented.

"Oh yes, quite handy for keeping track of doings about the city." He put the plate and bottle down, then filled two ornate silver cups which had already been on the table. "Though I'm nae too interested in the petty squabbles going on below." He waved a grubby hand toward the town, then motioned toward a bench. "Come, sit, enjoy your cake."

As I sat, my eyes were struck by the sight of a reconstructed skeleton of what I thought to be a dog. It stood by the doorway into the house, as if it had stood guard there until it perished. On its head was a freyed straw sun hat sporting a cock feather. I shook my head and turned my attention back to my strange host.

"Thank you, sir." I held up my cup in salute, then took a swallow. The Port was very fine indeed.

"So," he said, settling into a cushioned chair, "who are the guards looking for, eh?"

"A man named Reginald Killingsworth."

He sputtered Madeira crumbs. "Killingsworth, by God! What the devil is that venomous, lisping fop doing in Port Royal?'

"You know him?" I was surprised, and curious.

"Yes, more's the pity. An unhealthy conjunction of Mars and Venus and a waning faze of the moon put me teaching at Oxford at the same time that miserable creature was a student."

"I smiled. "He was a poor student?"

"Nae sae poor. In fact, he was too bright for his own good. But his character, now that's a different kettle of fish. Black-hearted as Bezelbub, with a cruel streak wide as the Thames. Who'd he kill this time?"

"A bar maid and possibly a Captain Sterling. But I believe Mr. Killingsworth is about to get a taste of his own medicine. When last I saw him, he was slung like a sack of potaotes over the shulder of man who had just given him a nasty blow to the head. Mentioned something about an eye-for-an-eye. If that's true, then I fear Mr. Killingsworth is in for a vengeance of biblical proportions."

Professor Angus Trilby grinned and held up his cup. "Now, that's the best news I've heard in months. A toast, then, to biblical revenge."

[Liam Finn]

"Keys, just keys? ta tha shanty? Must have somtin locked in a chest. He won't need it now." I pick up the limp body and carry it back to the shanty he came from, kick the door open and drop him inside next to the door. Inside is a table, chair, pallet with straw, and a trunk. "Ah ha! bring them keyz brudder, see if one opens tha trunk there. I'll see what other hospitality he has ta offer us." Ian heads to the trunk and begins to work the keys in the lock while I rifle through the bedclothes, the table and anything else I can find. "How ya comin with tha lock, brudder?" I say as I'm looking at the jars and bowls on the table. "Tha keeyz jammed! I can't, it won't, there, I got it!" I shakes my head and walk over as he opens the lid. "Well, wot have we here?"

[Captain Striker]

Striker strolled all the way to the fort , where the prison was located . The only lighting apart from the moon were the torches on the top of 10 meter tall wall and the small bonfires near the gate area .

2 guards were situated in front of the gate and numerous others were patroling the wall . Striker could even asume there were some men behind the embrasures near the gate because of the flickering of light.

"Halt , whose there ? " one of the guards shouted with a nervous sounding voice.

"A friend .... with a proporsition for you fine Gentlemen ! " Striker answered showing himself into the limited light from the torches and bonfires , while holding a purse in his hands.

Stiker shook it a bit .... the sound of coins rattleling could be heard .

"the only thing I ask of thee is to let me see a prisoner" Striker said with a smirk.

[Captain Striker]

Striker followed the hunchbacked prisonkeeper through the labyrinth of passages in the prison keep. The air was far from wholesome and it stank the same if one would board a Pox infested ship with all of the crew either dying or dead .One could hear wailing and coughing behind the thick locked oak doors.

only missery and pain lived in these quaters .

The Prisonkeeper stoped in front of one of the doors . Opened the lock with a rusting key which was ,one among many ,attached to a keyring, and then pulled the lever for the iron latch .

Striker went in the dungeon cell and saw from the poor lighting which the torch made , that the prisonkeeper was holding , a shackled silhouette crouched in the far left corner .

"My dear Sir Killingsworth " said Striker in a taunting tone

[Captain Striker]

The silhoutte moved towards the light with what seemed as a struggle for life or death .

The glare of the torch hit the silhuotte's face .... To Striker's surprise it was not Killingsworth but another noble man in chains judged by his clothes and appeareance.

Striker looked at the prison keeper , and said " This is not the man I am seeking .... The name of the person that I want to talk to is Reginald Killingsworth !"

The keeper looked at Striker and shook his head "this be the only man of noble birth we have ! "