Port Royal, Jamaica

[Bartholomew Treate]

Morning came with the sounds of chickens clucking and cackling next to me. They had escaped from pen down at the meat market and sensing their pending doom, had obviously made a break for it, heading down Thames Street in search of safety.

I reached out to one and snapped its neck. It would serve as my breakfast this morn, as soon as I could gut it and pluck it. One of the innkeepers will be happy to fry it up for me s long as I pound it down with a flagon of ale.

I finished the task at hand and rose to my feet. I headed out down the street with the chicken hanging from my left hand. I saw a coach pass by, carrying the Admiral into town. I guess he had the same idea as I on this morn.

I wondered when we would be heading out to sea again. Land was nothing more than a stopover for me - I loved being out on the open sea and in the heat of battle. It was my trade and my only true love.

I entered the inn and handed breakfast to be over to the barmaid. She took it out back to the cookhouse and handed it to one of the slaves there.

I sat at a table and ordered up some ale.

The inn was mostly empty, save for a few sailors over in the corner. In another corner, head on the table was Mark Read, whom I'd crossed paths with the night before. Obviously, he had too much Killdevil the night before and ended up here, passed out in his vomit. I couldn't help but laugh. Port Royal's Killdevil had claimed another victim of this powerful elixir.

I lit a pipe and enjoyed the first draw of fine Cuban tobacco.

I made my plans for the day. After breakfast I would head down to the docks and see if there was any word about the coming voyage with Morgan. I wanted to make the necessary contacts to be assigned to a good ship with an equally good captain. My own fortunes depended upon it.

-- --

[Capt. Sterling]

He had been halted by the foreman of one of the sugar plantations and questioned as to why he was trespassing. Knowing all too well that adding the “Sir” back to his name would garner him the release he needed to continue his ride, he announced himself, watched as the foreman paled and uncovered in respect. Sterling was not fond of pulling rank, three years of slavery, had taught him titles truly meant very little in life but he was in no mood to argue, especially since he truly had no claim to be where he had found himself. He continued, now allowing his mount free rein to walk itself out amongst the rows and rows of sugar cane.

Occasionally he made himself to watch the numerous slaves busy out in the fields as he rode by and had to hold himself in check physically as an overseer brought whip to bear. He himself still bore scars of beatings, many he most likely deserved because of his stubbornness to submit to his captives. He encouraged his horse to break forward once more into a slow canter, until he was far away from people. He did not wish to reminisce about his time in Algiers.

He shortly found himself at the edge of a one of the fields. A small grove of trees and a tiny pond filled with brackish water helped him to decide to take a break there. He dismounted, unbridled his animal and tethered it within easy range of grass and drink.

The morning had turned damnably hot, so he shed himself of coat and sword, although the later was kept within easy reach. He unbuttoned his silk waistcoat then loosened his cravat and unfastened the buttons at his throat. Dipping his hands into the pond, he splashed himself with the warm pond water. It neither refreshed him nor cleared his drug muddled mind. Checking once again on his rented mount, he finally fell under what little shade he could find. He had not managed to sort out his life long, before the medicine seized him completely and he fell asleep.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The writting style on parchment facing continued to nag Aurore's thinkings. She crossed the chamber to scrutinize it once more and instinct continued to whisper falsehood. Against far chamber wall, a shadow existing in shadows, Christophe waited for further instruction or release. It was there that she turned her attention, one delicate finger pinning correspondance to table surface as if in aquisation.

"Tell me, Monsieur Lambert..."

"Oui, Madame?" The diembodied voice returned.

"Did you hand this directly to individual in question? Or was there perhaps, some other in attendance at the time?"

He moved into the light and deliberated his response with care, "Oui Madame, there was another. La faux Oiseau Chanteur, as you seem to call her. The Capitaine was there but indisposed, it was she that took keep of the letter."

She turned away and watched the movements of avian noir, who had resumed former perch on chair back. It paused in preening to note the surround, then returned to buisness at hand. The pieces fell into order and revelation took the stage suddenly. Aurore moved to the table's edge and held written conveyance near tallow piller nieghbor.

"That explains much." She said to nobody in particular, "Go downstairs and inform Monsieur Stockton to close, s'il vous plait. I wish for quiet and I am sure that he would be most appreciative the early end of his day. Whomever wishes to purchase texts, can do so on tomorrow's arrival."

The Frenchman made movement towards chamber entrance to be halted in pace.

"Sabastian and Andre will not be returning until later this eve. Perhaps a light meal might suit, then have the carriage readied."

Christophe gave shallow bow and departed, thankful that she had been amicable. He had been in bookseller's company quite briefly when the information was delivered. Quickly returning above, the news was relayed.

"Monsiuer Lambert, please have the barb saddled and brought around to the rear. I no longer have use for the carriage and shall be ready momentarily."

[Cheeky Actress]

In a deep feeling of dread, panic began to set inward. Lilly paced the hardwood floor again wringing her hands in mental turmoil as she thought over what she had done to her beloved Captain in her head. “What have I done? I was only trying to help…” She muttered to herself.

She stopped suddenly to look out the inn’s window hoping to see any sign of her sweet Captain returning. He had only been gone for ¾ of an hour, but it felt like days. She continued to pace the floor of the room. Soon the reality of her deed started to set in. If she had agreed upon a poor arrangement, surely the Captain would not make his fortune. This being said, she would not be able to marry him and bring their son to them.

A churning in her stomach began to make her sick. Lord Darnly’s image flashed into her mind. “Oh God no…I could never go back to that man.” Muttering to herself on the verge of tears. Once again, she felt trapped by her actions. It was the Empress that thought Darnly's and Lilly's pairing was a lucrative match. When Darnly and Lilly began to acquaint themselves in time, she realized that some business transactions should never be made; even with the best of intensions.

Lilly let out a sigh. “Thank God I wrote that letter to the Empress about Lord…” A cold thought stuck Lilly. It was as if her heart has stopped beating. “The letter? Where is my letter to the Empress?!” Soon her head began to pound and her heart began to beat faster. She quickly began to open up every box, every book, every drawer and cupboard to find the letter she had written to the Empress. She had seen Sterling hold it in his very hand that night she was assaulted by Symms and the chamber pot. “Where in God’s name is it?!” She said shouting at herself.

It was no use. There was no sign of the letter anywhere. She was fit to be tied. “I must find the Captain. I must!” She knew that he was the last to have the letter...and yet, her concern with the letter was mixed with her concerns for his well being. Again, her words controlled her actions. She did not concern herself as of the moment with the very threat that the Captain had placed upon her. His voice still rang in her ears..."You are not to leave without my permission!" She knew that if she stayed in the room she would be putting them both in harms way…thus, she needed to disobey her lover and try to make right what she had done.

In a heated fury she dressed herself in her plain blue Mantua and collected upon her head a dark handkerchief. Collecting her gloves and vizard, she silently stole away down the back stairway towards the kitchen.

It was there she heard the voices of Dr. Reiley and Symms. “Good,” She thought to herself, “I will be able to ask for help in finding Captain Sterling.” As Lilly entered the kitchen she noticed a sizable pouch of coin upon the table. “What’s this?” She said looking at the two boys.

“Good Fortune, Mistress!” Said Dr. Reiley with a smile. She turned towards Symms and noticed the Captain’s best coat was still in tact lying next to the money. It hadn’t been delivered to the Silversmith’s as of yet.

“The Captain’s coat?” She asked pointing to it upon the table. “Symms, you must not deliver the Captain’s coat to the Silversmiths. I will not have it stripped of its’ buttons and trim. It means far too much to him. It’s the coat he wore when I first met him….”

Symms eyes widened. Surely he would never disobey the Captain’s direct order. Symms may have disagreed with the Captain from time to time, but he would never disobey him.

“But Mistress, I must do what he be askin of me! I cannot be disobeying his word.”

Lilly quickly picked up the coat and held it tightly in her arms. “Now don’t be the fool, Symms…he was knighted in this very coat, how could you let him destroy such a cherished item as this?”

Symms quickly grabbed part of the coat and struggled with the Mistress to retake it back into him possession. “Please Mistress…just give it here. I don’t be wantin him to be cross nor do I be wantin him to get upset. Ye be knowin how poorly of health he be!” A tug-of-war ensued between the two. All the while Dr. Reiley trying to calm them down.

[LadyBarbossa]

Not taking anymore to drink, Ana stood watching this new ally.

"I've a matter to attend to here in Port Royal first. Perhaps it best you sail whenever you choose and I shall set sail another day then rendezvous within a weeks time at say... west of Jamaica.. near a small isle," and she gave the other woman coordinates that placed the island between Jamaica and Mexico.

"But for now... I must bid you adeu."

With that she place her hat upon her head...

Then made way out of the cabin and up upon the main deck, informing her own to prepare to cast off.

As her crew scrambled and got down to the boat.. she smirked at the other woman then climbed down to the boat.

Within the minute... the long boat cast off and was returning to the Resurrection.

On the Resurrection, Ana made note of what happened in her own log. Where she locked it up then.

By morning... a courier had brought news to the Resurrection that Sir Admiral Morgan was willing to speak with Captain Graves and his sister at 3 in the after noon.

And so... Ana then began to prep herself... becoming the Lady as Graves adorned himself as a good Captain.

[Rateye]

Half tempted to let the two combatants destroy each other, Reiley paused, then looked around to see if anyone else could possibly be witnessing such a scene.

"That is more than enough!" Barked Reiley as he slammed his hand onto the table and again slid his new found earnings across to be seen.

Surprised at the sudden outburst and the viciousness that was so easily expressed, Lilly and Symms paused their tug-of-war long enough to catch the young doctor compose himself.

"Now Mr. Symms, Mistress McKinney (Bowing as he spoke), we all know how important this jacket is to a certain captain to which you both wish the best for. Now Mr. Symms... You know the captain isn't in his right mind. Furthermore, I strongly believe that when he eventually is of the correct disposition, he would greatly regret and would probably not even remember giving you any such instructions. Perhaps the jacket could be "taken to the silver smith" for a period of time until the good captain can recover his wits about him. Until then I'm sure this amount will atleast suffice."

Reiley watched the two mortal enemies size each other up. And though he hoped for a peaceful outcome (or at the very least an outcome that didn't involve murder or chamber pots) Something told him that this was the calm before the storm.

[Ransom]

As her crew scrambled and got down to the boat.. she smirked at the other woman then climbed down to the boat.

I stood at the rail watching the woman and her boatmen row away. I enjoyed the smirk she gave me, and chuckled. This alliance should be interesting, I thought.

"What was the smirk for?" Ioan asked.

"I suspect for the rakish grin I gave her at parting, and the fact I locked up our articles of agreement."

Ioan looked alarmed. "What agreement?"

"Oh, merely a small venture that should prove profitable to both." I had no intention of telling him all until we had put to sea. If any of the crew so much as breathed of what we had in mind, Morgan would be on us like a tiger.

Ioan looked at our rapidly disappearing guests. "Can you trust her?"

I arched a brow. "The more apt question, Ioan, would be, can she trust me?"

He grinned. "Can she?"

"For as long as it suits. It appears she won't be leaving Port Royal for at least a week. That doesn't give us enough time to get to the colonies and back, then make our rendezvous with the Resurrection."

"Why not just sell the cargo here in Port Royal? Admiral Morgan would pay dearly for it. Especially if he has a plan to attack the Spanish. Make him an offer."

I thought about his proposal. True, Morgan would pay handsomely for our cargo, but not as handsomely as the colonies. It was not what I had originally intended, and could put my ship in danger if I were not careful, but I could not resist the chance to pinch coin from old Morgan's purse. I might dribble a little of our goods into his hands, if only for some ready cash. Once that was safely locked away, the Rakehell could put to sea, taking the rest of our cargo out of Morgan's reach. After all, I had a week before the Resurrection left harbor.

I looked at Ioan, who stood watching me, waiting to see what answer I would give. "Find Goose. I have another letter to send."

"If the letter is to Morgan, maybe you better intrust it to me. Goose would drop it on the first tavern floor he passed out on. And, if I might ask, how much of the cargo are we selling?"

"I agree, you shall deliver the letter. And a gift will accompany it. As for the amont of cargo, mainly powder and a few cases of muskets."

"Gift?"

I smiled. "I think Sir Admiral Morgan would be suitably inpressed by that shiny bronze cannon we have stowed below. The one with the pretty lilies of France embossed on it. Don't you? And, maybe a hefty sack of powder to go with it. Just to show him our goodwill."

"Aye, I think he would." Ioan's dark eyes sparkled. "I'll arrange for a wagon and horses."

"Fine. In the meantime, I've a letter to write."

I gave one last look across the bay toward the Resurrection, smiled, then went below.

[Cheeky Actress]

It wasn't until Dr. Reiley mentioned the Captain's state of mind that Mistress Lilly realized how grave the situation truly was. She suddenly turned to the good doctor and pleaded for his help. "He's Gone...we must find him!"

"Who's Gone?!" Muttered Symms as he closely inspected the coat for any wear or injury done to it during the tussle. Lilly turned and sighed with disbelief. "Fool! I was talking about Captain Sterling!" Symms quickly stopped stroking the coat's fibers with the back of his hand and looked at Mistress Lilly in shock. "When did he leave? How did he leave? He can't manage without me...I'm his dogs body?!"

She quickly took to the doctor's side and grabbed his coat sleeve. "Please help me. He left in a fit of anger this morning. He is not well and consumed the rest of the medicine you gave him in one swallow."

Dr. Reiley's eyes widened. "He's sure to be feeling the affects of such a disastrous dose by now. Did he say where he was going?" Lilly shook her head no. "All I know is that he dressed for riding."

"Very well." Said the good doctor. "Symms, make haste...be sure you hide the Captain's small fortune. Mistress McKinney and I will look for him about the town. If he returns in our absence, make sure that you keep him to his room and we hope to return by four of the clock."

With a nod, Symms agreed and Dr. Reiley took Mistress Lilly's arm. She smiled gratefully and quickly gathered up her gloves and vizard. As she stepped out the back door of the inn it began to rain again. "Dash!" She said as she quickly placed her vizard upon her face. "It looks like it will be a wonderful day!"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

He had fully expected a dressing down when she cleared the rear entrance and gained the alley behind. A thousand explinations lay at ready as to why the large bay stood calmly next to the smaller and less docile equine neighbor. The sturdy blue roan shook its head, the petit ears shifting backwards in a show of displeasure to the forced balk of movement. No sidesaddle would ever lay as disgraced mantle over the Barb's back and Christophe had oft wondered why Aurore bothered with leather contraptions at all; it seemed all Manouche and their relations shared a common understanding with beasts.

She refused help in mounting and gained seating with practiced ease. Words were whispered in the true tongue, the dance gained cadence in place as Aurore directed companion through low arch suspended above, to the less restricted byway beyond. Christophe glanced away to make stirrup adjustment, and the strike of hoof on cobble gave him sudden epiphany that she had no intention of waiting. In her mind, if the Gadjo decided she needed a nursemaid, then he would catch up...or be left behind.

The edge of town was cleared at harrowing pace, giving way to greener surrounds and plantation realms. Many thoughts whirled Christophe's mind as he watched the Barb and rider dissapear over slight rise to lower plain. Goading the Bay to quicker pace, curse was issued under breath when considering what would transpire from these actions; she could be such a willfull spirit.

Overcoming the rise, she was again near roadside, leaning over in conversation with a fieldhand. Small ground was gained before the rise of disturbed road dust took flight ahead, which dissapated as the roan vered right and cleared a shallow ditch. Landing with surefoot, divets were thrown violently in blue mount's wake and Christophe urged the Bay's progress again.

As irritation began to climb the workings of his being, observation was made of leader's slow in pace resolving itself to harnessed standstill. Once again kindred beast's were brought to reunion and without looking away from an area in near distance, one delicate arm was raised with finger extended in indication of direction.

The Chestnut lifted its' cropping attentions to greenery and inspected the riders holding stance and offered a nicker in salute, and was answered in return. Aurore said nothing for a space of minutes, satisfied with achieval then glancing sidelong spoke her wishes. The Frenchman nodded with small hesitation, than rode on to where the Chestnut was teathered.

"Pardon monsieur..."

The prone man stirred and Christophe issued repeate of wordings, "Pardon monsieur, my mistress wishes to know how you have found yourself here and what your business might be. This is an area of private holdings and you are, by dictate, tresspassing."

From her vantage point, Aurore smiled with a tincture of predatory bearing. The sun played tag with threatening cloud cover, allowing ocassional caress upon cinnamon hued tress in curling cascade. A woven piece of leather in intricate design gave effort to tame the unruliness. Summer heat seemed drawn as moth is to flame, upon the legnth of blue riding coat. Temperature rise was a very mild irritation to the wearer, southern climes in Med regions had offered a conditioned aloofness and there were more important issues at hand...

[Rateye]

"You, Boy!" yelled Reiley, at the servant working behing the inn. "Fetch a carriage at once... Be quick lad, we havn't time to waste!"

"If you'll wait here mistress, I'll help the boy along!" Urged Reiley, as he darted through the rain toward the coachhouse. "Be quick Lad, a man's life could be lost!!"

"You mean the one, came ere, demanding a horse?" Questioned the boy as he hooked the reigns to the horse. "The one that looked as if he was ready to.."

"That would be the one, and I'll thank you to keep your opinion to yourself, especially around the young lady back there." Hissed Reiley. "Which way did he head?"

"Well he couldn't have gotten far, in his shape... Saw him charge like the devil that way."

"Here you go lad!" Reiley said as he tossed the boy a shilling. "now run up and help the lady into the carriage when I get there! That's a good lad!"

As Reiley brought the carriage to the back door, he found Mistress McKinney being hastened by the youngman toward the carriage.

"I'm afraid this will have to do, dear lady!" called Reiley as he halted the carriage. "At least it has a cover!"

[Capt. Sterling]

"Pardon monsieur..."

The words came, or so they seemed, from across a immense void. They moved heavily through his clouded, sleep filled wits and took an eternity before their significance was grasped. Sterling shifted a little, his fingers, by habit closing first about the silver, wire wrapped hilt that he had left beneath his touch. His eyes could not open thus far, instead they screwed tightly shut. He arched tentatively. The voice sounded for a second time.

"Pardon monsieur, my mistress wishes to know how you have found yourself here and what your business might be. This is an area of private holdings and you are, by dictate, trespassing."

Still grasping the small sword, he struggled to draw himself upward and barely managed to roll over onto his side. To all appearances he was as if one completely lost to drink.

“Pardon? Empiéter ? Mais j'étais….”the captain halted in mid thought as well as mid sentence. No that was not right… he remembered. He truly had not been given permission to be where he now found himself, he had but bullied his way there. He leaned upward on one hand and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. Even such fine linen felt coarse against his skin. My Lord, but he was soaked through. He looked up, forced to turn his head to see the man that was accusing him… Mistress, he saw... no… he looked about him and saw the companion, standing at a distance, backlit by the sun.

“No, mes... excuses à votre ...bonne Dame. Le défaut est toute... mine…” Sterling finally carried on, as he laboured to regain his feet. As he straightened, he heard a roaring in his ears, like the waves of the sea. He turned to face the Lady. He tried to take a step forward. An incredible sense of lightness instantly overwhelmed him as his intent to bow crumbled with the man. The small sword was the first to fall into the grass.

He caught himself on hands and knees... a pitiful spectacle. He could feel the sweat stinging his eyes, dripping from his face. He thought he heard one of the riders move still closer to him… When he strained his neck to look up, the sunlight was all but eclipsed by the one he believed to be the lady of the estate.

“Help..,” the plea came as a groan… “M'aider s'il vous plaît.”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Aurore had directed the Barb closer and dismounted. The immediate surround carried a soured scent mixed with something she could not quite place. Quick observation was made of the Capitaine's over all condition, bringing forth an expression mixing disapproval and sympathy. His feeble attempts at propriety were checked by the malady gripping his being with greedy claws; casting him forward to bent knee support. Aroure's dark eyes cut to her still mounted companion, who remained passive until she moved yet closer to where Sterling swayed.

The thing nagging Christophe most at the momment, was knowing the odds of what would transpire next. Whatever had initially drawn her attention to this man would only double now. La Petit Renard had a horrible weakness for the downtrodden or helpless; the single eyed corbeau was a perfect example. He supposed it foundation lay with the injustices suffered for years by her kind. When she finally spoke, his thoughts were confirmed.

"Monsieur Lambert, return to the men that we passed on our way here; procure the horse and cart they possess and bring it back. We shall then move on to the house where I can look into what the issue is here."

The Frenchman eyed her with wariness, switching to Basque verbose to hide his opinions from the Englishman, "Your brothers will not be pleased," he cautioned. " Andre' will not be understanding at all..."

Aurore waved him off with impatient air, her forcus never wavering from the other. Christophe exhaled heavily with exasperation and stated one word quietly to her as the Bay was turned. She chose to ignore his voicing of "Prikaza", knowing full well its interpertation, having heard it flung about with ease since being a small child.

Reaching forward, she took hold of Sterling's near arm and spoke with soft reassurance, "There is no need for exertion, monsieur...Please take your ease. I have made arrangements and soon you will find yourself in comfortable surroundings."

Aurore eased sterling to the support of large tree before obtaining a water flask secured to the Barb's saddle. Pouring some of its content on silk kerchief, she wiped his brow then offered the flask for water's consumption. Christophe's accuisation rambled about in her thoughts, such a strong thing to voice, and he being bold to say such.

The semi-feral young woman voiced her opinion underbreath, giving discredit and negation, "Bad omen...indeed." Lowering her lithe frame to the lush grass surface, Aurore smiled secretively while looking towards the direction Christophe had taken. They would dissapear like so many mists on a summer morn, if any questioning occured such would be met with ignorance...

[Ransom]

Sir Admiral Morgan

Admiralty Court

My dear Sir,

I have recently arrived in your fine port, so have only just heard of the tragic loss of the Oxford, and your proposed noble retaliation against the Spanish. Although my ship is under-gunned for your grand scheme, and already under commission by the colonies, I do have something that may interest you, and help you in your cause. The gift accompanying this letter will give you a hint of what I offer for sale, although I have but the one 8 pounder which now rests, as it were, on your doorstep.

If you are interested in purchasing what I have to offer, please send a note by my first mate, Ioan, who will see it safely delivered.

I remain your obedient servant,

Ransom

Captain of the Rakehell

I reread the letter and found it satisfactory, despite the lies contained within. But Morgan would think twice, I hoped, before commandeering a ship and cargo he thought already under commission. In any case, it would give me haggling time if he insisted on inspecting the cargo himself, during which the Rakehell could put to sea. Besides, I didn't give a tinker's damn about his grand adventure, other than what gold it might make me. If my plan became too perilous, I could still sail to the colonies, rid myself of this dangerous hoard, and hope the Resurrection's captain wouldn't think I had broken our articles if I showed up late for our rendezvous.

I sanded, then sealed the letter, pressing my heavy onyx signet ring into the soft wax. The hollow-eyed stare of a horse's skull in waxen bas relief glared back at me.

[Capt. Sterling]

He closed his eyes as the lady tried to give him some relief. Her touch was sure and gentle, so unlike the frantic worry of his lover or the constant fussiness of his steward that often only ended in more discomfort. And yet, he felt uncertain now… he did not know this rescuer , and certainly, on top of everything else he was embarrassed that he had been caught where he had no right to be and in such a wretched state. He glanced over at the brute still mounted, that seemed ill at ease with his mistress’s concern and her attentions to one less fortunate and yet , although with argument, did as she requested. He tried to follow the speech between them but found he could not make sense of it… he wondered if he could make sense of anything at the moment.

As the lady’s companion rode off, Sterling tried to rouse himself, but found her still sure and gentle touch upon his chest, forcing him to keep his place.

“Lady…” he barely whispered. He tried to take her in, but she had positioned herself on his blind side… innocently... or….

When she raised the flask a second time to his lips, and he felt her hand support his head, he closed his eyes once more but only found himself able to gag upon the liquid, then felt her silk cloth pressing to his mouth.

“Forgive me… Me pardonner, la Dame,” he groaned. He felt more of the cool water bathing his face and he gave up trying to think any further. He slumped downward in mind and body and then only could recall more hands upon his person, lifting him and carrying him off.

Perchance he was only dreaming....

[LadyBarbossa]

Dressed in a fine, crimson riding habit and strode out upon deck to meet Graves who was dressed in a navy blue and yellowish outfit as he overlooked the process of the long boat being put .

Ana smirked, "Careful there, Mr Graves... th' Ladies may find ya handsome enough to beg you to stay," she joked with her First Mate.

Graves chuckled in return.

Then the both of them climbed down to the boat.

The long boat rowed from the Resurrection heading ashore.

As it came close enough, to men jumped out of the boat and secured the boat to the docks.

Graves and Ana exited the boat, taking a route to a nearby stable where they obtained a pair of horses. Cheaper than obtaining a full carriage.

Within the hour.. they were off with the instructions of where to meet Sir Admiral Morgan. And so... they took the given route to reach their destination just before 3.

[Reginald Killingsworth]

Master Pritchard and Master Killingsworth made their way to the Stage Manager's dressing room. Looking about the room, Killingsworth saw a state of chaos. "Please forgive the mess. My maid servant is not well...she has been lacking in her duties."

Master Pritchard offered Killingsworth a chair and they both took to sitting at a small table. "I am over joyed to see that patrons of the theater and stage have not forgotten us here in Port Royal. And a new play...fate is smiling upon us now!" Pritchard's face beamed with glee...so much so, that his rutty complexion didn't look so bad. Upon filling a wine glass or two, Master Pritchard continued, "Master Killingsworth, again I am greatful for you delivery of such a gift...but I haven't lived this long not to know that you are here for another reason. Come, tell me what I can help you with?"

Master Killlingsworth smiled lightly, then turned to see the pile of unpaid bills on the Stage Manager's dressing table. "What's your business, here?" Said Pritchard quickly snatching the bills up in his hands. "Oh, I would like to discuss-s-sss my employer's busines-ss-ss...you ss-ssee, the play is a gift...for your help in a pressing matter that concerns him whom I sss--sserve." And with that Killingsworth pulled out a small purse. "I am ssss-ssure that there is enough there to pay off your debtors-ss-s and have a little left over for your actorssss--s."

Suddenly, Pritchard looked pleased and somewhat surprised. With a smile he quickly changed his tune. "Oh yes, of course!" he said quickly pouring more wine into Killingsworth's goblet. "Anything! What is it that I can do for you?" "I sss-s-seek information." He smiled holding the wine goblet to his lips. Killingsworth's eyes watched Pritchard's face. "Information? Regarding what?" "I make inquires regarding Mistress MmmMcKinney." It was then Pritchard's sat there slackjawed. "Mistress McKinney...here?! In Port Royal?!" Again, the Stage Manager's face expressed his delight. "I cannot believe that London's famous actress is here! Does she fair well?" Killingsworth suddenly realized that Mistress McKinney has not yet made herself known to Master Pritchard. "She has not yet made your acquaintance, Sir?" Pritchard shook his head. "Alas, she has not made herself known. Had she, I would be speaking to her as of this moment and placing her in the new play, which you have given me!"

Killingsworth temper turned for the worse. "What?! Sss-she hasn't been here to sss-s-see you?!" Suddenly, he quickly calmed himself. "My employer wishes to make sure that -s-sshe is -s-ssafe. I do expect that she will come to you...in due time. When -s-s-she does, notify me immm-mmmediately. You can s-s-send word over to The Ss-s-shipp and I promise you will be rewarded for your efforts." With that Killingsworth stood, bowed lowly. "I bid you good day, Master Pritchard....oh, and this conversss-sssation that has past between usss-ss sss-sshould be kept quiet...for now." Taking his hat, Master Killingsworth left the room. The rain had stopped as Killingsworth left the theater.... "DAMN that WOMAN!" He shouted as he made his way back to The Shipp.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The cart was anything but a luxury carriage, but such a cart could navigate the treacheries of nonpath terrain in advantage that a chase could not consider option. The two plantation workers conversed quietly betwixt themselves and the newly aquired coin ensured silence, a leter of correspondance would be issued as explination to their absence from the fields. The gentleman that actually held land deed to the area would be agreeable, not all of his business dealings were of legal nature and had been known to involve Le Cour.

Chestnut followed teather lead afixed to cart rear and seemed quite nonplused to the journey. It was a slow progression to where the land began to climb and open field gave way to denser foliage. The cart returned to main trail and was called to halt in a heavy copse, it was here that Christophe rode ahead alone to return accompanied by four others. A young boy sat astride a dun mare and jumped down to ensure safe attachment of travois abaft.

Aurore scrutinized the careful lift and placement of Sterling on the primitive transport. Chestnut was handed over to one of the men in waiting and the cartmen turned around for the return journey. Only after the two wheeled vehicle dissapeared from view did the troup move forward and into a secluded track, snakeing through the wilder areas of nonsettlement.

No words disturbed the air, only intermittant calls of local avian broke the stillness. Time seemed to suspend in the primordial and the air was thick with the scent of vegitation and moisture. After slow traverse of wooded maze, they arrived within a small clearing broken by sturdy domocile. Once again the Englishman was lifted and carried into the cool interior and onward to a small bedroom upstairs.

The structure's simple exterior gave no indication of what lay in its encompassment; another illussion offered to hide truths. Aurore left the small room while Sterling was tended to then deposited into the depth of ornate four poster bed. Christophe had lingered near her while concoction was prepared to ease guest's state. The Frenchman kept his peace while watching his charge and mistress, pondering why the twenty year old could be such a hellion one moment and wholly compassionate the next.

She reached past him to obtain a tea cup and their eyes met briefly. Christophe broke contact before anything showed on his expression. They had been constant companions for seven years and he had watched her grow into the bewitching form that now flitted around the kitchen. This was not the same girl child that had fought with him constantly while being forced into lessons of etiquette and proper speech. One thing remained though, there was an untamed air about her that lay just under polished surface, and that quality rivaled her native beauty of Romani wrought.

Aurore brushed past him, service balanced on tray and made for the cottage's upper level. Christophe followed behind in her wake, distracted by the fluid grace of her barefooted step; movement that loose britches and one of Sabastian's old shirts could not hide. The Frenchman held his breath without thinking as she glanced over one shoulder, the prophile of full lips hinting at smile.

Achieving desired chamber, the small room's door was opened to allow entrance, and Christophe leaned against framework watching the pale form on bed support. He dared not leave her proximity and inwardly was much discomforted by the thought, that sooner or later, the males of the family would return to roost...

[Cheeky Actress]

The carriage ride about the port city was uneventful to say the least. Mistress Lilly and Dr. Reiley had stopped at the logical places where Captain Sterling may have had business to tend to or found a friendly face to assist him in his time of need...but to no avail, there was no sign of him anywhere.

By Dr. Reiley's suggestion, both he and Mistress Lilly decided to make there way out towards the plantation fields and higher regions of the island, just in case the good Captain had decided to venture further than the City of Port Royal. Mistress Lilly sat resting next to the good doctor in the carriage. The day grew older and she found herself looking out the window to the rain soaked fields, all the time twisting her handkerchief in her hand. "Not to fret, Mistress. We will find him soon enough." She passed her glance back over at the doctor and said nothing.

As she glanced over at the good doctor, she realized that she was in need of allies in this strange land and she needed as many as she could. The love of her life needed to be found and placed back in his own bed to recover from his malady. She had to secure her investment and she was not likely to risk loosing the opportunity to secure such a thing.

Lilly pulled the vizard from her face and smiled sweetly at Dr. Reiley. "You are so kind to help me find Captain Sterling. Such as good soul and you have taken such good care of him where I cannot." She moved closer to the doctor's side. "...And when we do find our beloved Captain," She said putting her hand upon his upper thigh. "I would be most grateful to you. Perhaps, I can let you know how grateful?" And with that she kissed him full upon the mouth.

[Rateye]

Her words were almost a whisper. Each of them music, playing to her subtle yet well-practiced movements. Only to then be followed by a single and perfectly-timed kiss, that could make any man weak in the knees and unable to stand.

“A talented thief of hearts…” Thought Reiley, as he greedily welcomed her kiss.

He knew all to well that a kiss could have a thousand different meanings. But from past experience and from similar ventures, something told him he should check his coin purse and also be weary of such rewards.

“Perhaps a lesson should be taught here?” Thought Reiley, as he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. “Perhaps this ‘Mistress’ needs to find out the sort of ‘Gentle Man’ she has provoked…”

“If that be the case my dear,” grinned Reiley, in a more surly tone. “Surely we can put off finding the good captain for… say… the next hour or so?”

“I beg your pardon?” Replied Mistress McKinney, as she was taken a back by the doctor’s unexpected and direct suggestion.

“After all,” He added as he pulled her close. “That is why you asked me to come on this little ‘ride’ of yours isn’t it?”

Lilly couldn’t believe her ears. Here was something of a gentleman, whom she thought she could easily ensnare, only to have him suddenly turn into the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“How dare you!” Lilly hissed, as she lashed out and slapped the doctor across the face.

But without a pause, Reiley had caught her hand and again pulled her close. Kissing her in a more playful yet controlling manner.

“Bastard! You’ll pay for this!”” Cried Lilly, as she pulled away from his lips, only to have him slowly make his way down her neck.

Then after she thrashed for a moment, he surprisingly allowed her to escape his arms.

“I thank you for the generous offer my dear.” Grinned Reiley as he sat back, playfully tooling his moustache. “And though I would gladly ‘entertain’ such a tempting offer, something tells me there’s much more to you than meets the eye… ‘Mistress’ McKinney!”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Sabastian Devareaux leaned casually against the Common room's back wall. It offered an unobstructed view of the surround and not too far to his right, lay access to the establishment's rear door. Not that any of these factors truly mattered to him at the current moment, for his attention was consumed by the young chamber maid afore him.

An accord had been reached with The Shipp's proprietor in regard to certain spirits of refined qualities. There were but two more issues of business that needed attending to before calling this day closed and the younger brother of the Three decided that a bit of pleasureful pursuit might serve him well momentarily. He was ahead of schedule and what Andre' did not know would not hurt him, though Sabastian knew it would eventually get back to the Elder sooner or later.

He listened to the young woman's playful mentionings and smiled mischievously to each semi-veiled proposition. Leaning forward to her hearing, he spoke his thoughts of the momment and the maid's cheeks colored a perfect rose hue in response. It was not as if she had not heard such from his lips before, but Sabastian's renderings changed slightly with each visitation and always managed to cause said reactions.

Drawing back from her, quick eyes surveying the surround briefly as he reached forward to take her small hand in his. Producing a petit cut jewel, he laid it upon the cushion of upturned palm. She giggled, as young maids are want to do, counting herself fortunate for having caught his attention months back. The blue faceted jewel was not the first to be given into her possession and it was not, in any way, an object of payment. They were "tokens of appreciation," "gifts to the deserving"...Or so he always said.

Sabastian inclined his chin a degree, which brought her closer, one arm slipping with ease around her waist. The thickly accented verbose titilated her imagination, a stream of clever inticements which were suddenly halted by the loud slam of front door. In one quick motion, the maid was moved to the side in response to the stream of indignaties that sounded the air. A sneer developed over Sabastian's wolfish features as he centered his focus on the dandy. "Such arrogant carriage," he thought to himself as the man in question strode to where the proprietor stood.

A series of demands were issued in educated manner, their flow disturbed by the breakage of stutter. Sabastian backed into further low light cover and watched interchange intently; the maid all but forgotten...

[Reginald Killingsworth]

"Such arrogant courage," he thought to himself as the man in question strode to where the proprietor stood.

A series of demands were issued in an educated manner, their flow disturbed by the breakage of stutter. Sabastian backed into further low light cover and watched interchange intently; the maid all but forgotten...

Reginald Killingsworth was in a fowl mood since he left the Ward Theater. The long walk in the heat of the day did nothing for his disposition. He was not in the mood for any superciliousness at that moment. His mind still reeled on how he had wasted the morning only to find out that Mistress McKinney was not at the theater. Killingsworth could not understand the reasoning why. If she had found herself in Port Royal, the theater would be the first place he would have found her. He knew that it was like a second home to her. It was only logical to find her there. But then again, the actions this woman were not logical. They were based on spontaneous emotion, something he could never fathom. He was uncomfortably warm in his fashionable French style suit made of silk. The temperature of the island was not agreeing with him or his temper. He pulled out a fine linen handkerchief and wiped his brow.

As Killingsworth stood in the center of the room, he looked about the Shipp’s tavern drinking in all the faces before him. “What an unpleasant looking ensemble we have here.” Not a word was spoken or given in reply to his poorly addressed comment. Sebastian Devareaux just sat there quietly to observe this new unpleasant addition to Port Royal’s population. Killingsworth smirked to himself and approached the tavern owner at the bar. “My name is Master Reginald Killingsworth. I have a room here, do I not? If ss-ssso, bring a boy around to ss-ss-show me to my accommodations.” He said as he barked his commands at the shabby looking barkeep. The barkeep stood there for a moment looking back at the maid servant then at the dark visitor sitting at the far table. “Do you not undress-stand me?! I Sssaid, I would like to be sss-sshown my accommodations…NOW!!!””

His day was turning into poor and extremely pathetic array of circumstances. It was then the barkeep yelled for a young boy who scurried from the back hall of the kitchen and stood in front of Killingsworth. Killingsworth looked down at the boy. He looked no older than nine or ten years of age. He was dirty and disheveled. “Come now…” Killingsworth said prodding the young boy with his walking stick. “You lead the way.” As the boy slowly showed Killingsworth up the stairway, Killingsworth turned to the barkeep and threw down several coins. “Do sss-ssend up a bit of sss-sup in an hour and tell that maid to bring it herself.” He added with a wicked grin. With that he turned, but not before he bowed slightly at the waist to Sabastian Devareaux. Leaving an uncomfortable feeling in the air for Sabastian.

[Capt. Sterling]

Was he dreaming still?

More hands… lifting him from the cart, carrying him further… upward…then there were…. fewer hands stripping him down to his shirt then placing him in ….He closed his eyes as one pair of hands covered him with bed linens, bathed down his face, neck and chest . He tried to push them off. By God, he was tired of people touching him without his consent.

“Go away,” he mumbled, but the hands insisted on continuing with their task.

He could only sigh and relent. Would he never learn to submit?

Hardly.

He covered his face with his hands, he could feel the deep scar distorting the left side of his face, pulling the lower eyelid downward where it did not belong. How many of his crew then were killed because he refused to do what his captors wanted? He did not wish to remember any of this…. Why now?

He shook off the pestering hands and rolled away from them onto his side.

All his officers…. Until he told the captain of the Turks that he could no longer bare to watch them murder his men…my, but the Turks were an obliging sort he mused. It happened quickly after that, a sudden but all too sure flick of a wrist and his face had been split asunder. It had occurred so quickly he never even had time to scream…

He screamed now in the language he had been forced to learn to survive… “LEAVE ME BE!!” It was enough … to allow him to fall back asleep.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Sabastian gave no acknowledgement to the paon strutting adornments and self appraised rank to those in the surround. Worse insult and treatment had been delivered readily when he was a boy walking dirt roads the caravans roved. But those days were long gone and the likeness of youth that parralled that of the boy being prodded by Killingsworth, had been traded for the tailored fit of velvets and silks. No longer did he endure taunt and insult, for in this Southern port inherant skills handed down with blessings from generation to generation, had given the dirty little gitan a crown, scepter and power over those of unseemly skills. Those of money and status were no longer bowed to, but were instead, clients with appetites in need of satisfaction.

He remained aloof to proffered bow and slight, his only movement that of keen and intutitive sights following the Other until out of view. Leaving the shadows, Sabastian approached the proprietor and considered briefly before addressing the man.

"Monsieur Templeton, it appears that there is an unseemly creature taking up residence above..."

The other shifted uncomfortably.

"You have a long and well favored business agreement with myself , do you not?"

Mister Templeton gave a nervous nod of concurance.

"Might you have,near at hand, what I would require to scribble out a small note?"

Another nod followed by the rustle and rattle of items being shifted about from under bar's surface. A ragged quill, ink pot and paperment where handed over. Sabastian offered chilled smile of appreciation then set to scribe. No blotter was available and the correspondace was laid to the side in order to dry. From inner pocket, a small packet of leather was produced and opened. From its narrow body, two items were selected and laid near while signet ring was removed from left hand.

Mister Templeton tried hard not to look at what was written upon paper surface, but the temptation was overmuch, and he had just enough ability to pick up a few words, the rest was filled in by the sing song of folk rhyme he knew from childhood. He shuddered at what it implied. As the lines missing played through Templeton's simple mental faculties, Sabastian reached for the parchment, then the two items that had been brought to low light. A single black feather was placed in paper embrace, the correspondace folded. Black wax was applied to open flame of sputtering candle and pooled to create securing; the sigil applied as crown.

Sabastian slid the yellowed square to the other, "Monsieur, you will be so kind as to have this sent up to your newly arrived...guest?" The last word came forth as a low hiss. A gesture was made, summoning two men from opposit area of the common. "And Monsieur Templeton, I do think it best if Molly is given the rest of the week off from her duties here."

The proprietor looked as though he might protest and thought wiser of doing so, resigning himself to another nod. " But do not be discouraged, mon ami...I give unto you the services of Monsieur Franklin as to aid your needs. If the gentleman is of too much inconvinence, you know how I might be contacted."

Templeton fleeted a glance to the large man called Franklin then back,

"Yes, Mister Devareaux.."

Sabastian looked to where the maid in question stood and offered outstreached hand, bringing her near. Four golden coins where placed on worn bartop and the gitan turned to leave. Hesitating as he neared the door, Sabastian fixed Templeton with a mischievous grin, "If the gentleman has some complaint about his accommodations, please make him aware that he is more than welcome to bend the Governor's ear with his angst." A wry chuckle was given ahead of next statement, "But I am sure he will find no relief there...We all have our secrets to tend, and those that tend them."

Templeton continued to stare after the entrance, though the small party had been gone for the passing of five minutes time. And as he stood numb to what had ocured, his mind kept drifting back to what was written within paperment in his keeping.

One for sorrow...

[Reginald Killingsworth]

Killingsworth retired to his room on the upper most floor of the inn. The day was going badly and his head pounded like some great wave on the ocean. The room’s two small windows gave little relief from the heat, thus it for forced him to remove his wig, coat and neck stock. He laid upon his bed and thought back to the cooling rains of England in the Spring. For the moment it gave him some comfort. He closed his eyes and thought back to the early mornings where he would walk in the park. Suddenly, a knocking came upon the door. Killingsworth realized that an hour had past and the knock on the door must be his supper that he requested, and the pretty little maid servant in tow. “Enter!” He shouted as he sat up in bed. His smile quickly turned to a frown when he saw a very large man enter in the maid’s sted.

“What’s this? Who are ye?” Asked Killingsworth was he made his displeasure known. “I’m Franklin, and this be ye supper.” The man servant placed the tray upon the table next to the bed. Killingsworth looked down at the try and noticed the letter. “What became of the maid sss-ssservant?” “She’s been called away, Sir.” And with a bow, Franklin left the room. Killingsworth quickly poured himself a glass of wine. At least his thirst could be satisfied. The image of the little maid was still clear in his head as he picked up the letter that had been left behind for him.

As he looked at the hand writing on the parchment, it was not by any hand that he he knew. As he turned it over and broke the seal, he discovered a single black feather inside…along with a prose:

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret

Never to be told.

“What’s this foolishness? A child's rhyme?” He asked himself. “Some one wishes to play word games with me?” He looked at the letter again. There was no signature or evidence of the author. “Foolish prattle!” He mumbled to himself. “Fyne! If thee wishes games …you shall have games.” And with that he pulled out a few pieces of parchment, his quill, ink pot and blotter. After a few stinging words of his own which he sealed it with deep red wax. “If they wish to play such games as these, I will humor them!”

[Major Thomas Beckwith]

Major Beckwith arose and washed and shaved for the day. He mentally went over his duties for the day. He and one of his lieutenants were to take a detachment and ride to Fort Rupert to inspect the troops there, and discuss any pressing needs with the fort's officers. And of course, he was to have the honor of meeting with Henry Morgan and other government officials.

He dressed and left his quarters, strolling along the upper decks of Fort Charles, looking out to sea. He felt his blood stir, and secretly hoped his meeting with Morgan would result in his being aboard a vessel of war, with the feel of the ocean under his feet...