Port Royal, Jamaica

['Bastian Devareaux]

Nathan Kelley sat near tavern window with feet propped gratefully on near chair. Greedy draught was taken from simple wooden tankard and his mind wandered aimlessly having fulfilled another day at near Marshallsea. Wincing slightly, he adjusted posture and inwardly cursed the long hours spent standing and bowing to the whim of English demand. Another draught was savored as eyes trained to clear barrier and the view offered. Inner voice whispered the truths that Kelley preferred to ignore...It could always be far worse. Fate could have dictated his place to be amongst the milling lots clogging the lanes and byways... Those with no true place or means of steady income; flotsam and jetsam that scraped to survive.

Another round was signaled for and he allowed his eyes to fall half-mast while awaiting small beer and the maid that would deliver it. A hint of smile lazed his lips in regard to the maid and the possibilities, if she might be so inclined. The smile widened with further notions if accord were managed, but all was brought to startled freeze as a familiar voice called out from across the Common in hailing.

"Kelley!! Yer a layabou' bit o' it!"

Nathane turned his head, training his attention to the disrupter and laughed at the jibe. "An' yer one to be crowin' so loud, boyo!" came the retort in turn. Sitting up, feet were removed from opposite chair as Kindred of the Aul Sod were brought together to commune. Barmaid drew near and was sent back for another vessel; slight blush on her cheeks at Burke's flirtations.

Devon watched after sway of skirts with interest momentarily as he gained seating, "Fresh off the boat an' ripe fer the picken's." he chided then turned focus to table mate, who chuckled with a shake of head.

"Now ye canno' be makin' claim to every Colleen tha' walks off a gangway. Didno' yer Ma tell ye tisn' right to be greedy? A sin it is, says so in'na Good Book..."

"Oh ho ho....Go ta throwin' tha' in me way, an' all the Angels on High know ye to be a right Saint!"

Tankard arrived, contents trace wiped off upper lip with handy sleeve and speculative expression was cast, " How's the Job?"

Nate stretched leisurely with reply, "Tis the same as has been." A grin appeared as he continued, " An' yer own..?"

"Been a wee on'na strange o' late, bu' the take as gran' as ever..."

Kelley glanced about casually then leaned in, " Don' imagine ye've laid clutch to the Dew, eh?"

"Aye, tis a matter o' fact. I'll be makin' sure to get some yer way. Could'no be makin' yer brother do wit'out. I don' be in envy o' his workin's..."

"Could be worse." Nathan shrugged.

"Could be better, too." Came retort. " Don' have no doin's wit' hangin' folk. Ye think Aul' Peter cast a blind eye to tha'?"

The Other laughed, it was an on going joke betwixt the two. Conversation continued back and forth as wit strewn game of badminton and draining of tankards. But faltered with notice of Rouge interruption breaking the duller palette of lane outside. Kelley shook his head as they hove into view, commenting lightly, "Now there be a poor bastard I canno' envy, even wit' them fancy trappin's..."

Devon turned to see what companion was centered on, offering smallish jerk of startle when reality struck. Other's expression gained inquisitive facets, " Are ye in aquaints wit' tha' fellah?"

Thief's attention dropped to the table surface," Aye, bleedin' Lazarus wit' more lives den a fekkin' cat......"

[Capt. Sterling]

By the time prison’s entrance was breached, Sterling had all but given in. As Pinon continued to remain behind and out of sight, he could only pray that his words regarding the annulment had reached both brother and sister’s ears. As he was hurried through the prison gate, he thought of the papers he had burned, hoping to make the most of his marriage, and yet now he had labeled his wife a worthless whore in the hopes that there would be sufficient hurt on her part to prompt her to leave him alone to his fate and remove herself to some place safe.

As he was moved inside prison’s walls, the stench hit him first. The smell of human waste and unwashed bodies took his breath away. Mind raced with memories of the Matamores, vile underground dungeons, where he, along with other white slaves, had been held. He tried not to think of foul, cramped conditions and extremely claustrophobic spaces.

Keeper approached and red coats’ shackles and leg irons were removed. In Algiers, a large iron ring, weighing at least one and half pounds and attached to a long chain, had been riveted to one of his ankles. Now, as prison’s own brand of irons were locked in place upon extremities, Sterling began to struggle. Although he had survived once, he found he could not face such conditions again. Bribe was quickly offered to remove shackles. Brown coat bartered and as irons were about to be removed once more in order to complete the transaction, Nimrod Pinon arrived. With nothing but a shake of dark head, barter was cancelled.

[Nimrod Pinon]

“No further bribes will be tolerated!“ Pinon ordered the Keeper. “If you do as you as you are told, you will be handsomely compensated later… If you wish his coat, take it and any other coin he might have on his person.” Pinon continued, reciting well memorized list, mentally ticking off each item in turn.

“Sterling is to remain in irons and locked away in isolation. No one is to speak with him. No one is to see him. He will be found a lawyer but he is not to meet with him unless I am present…he is not to be given pen nor paper… he is not to be allowed the use of the yard nor taproom …he is not to be moved for any reason without my permission….And no one is to speak regarding him outside these walls…” As list of do’s and don’ts continued, small group pushed onward into the darkness of the prison’s interior and Sterling’s struggling quickly turned to panic.

[Cheeky Actress]

Mistress Lilly crawled into a shelter near the dockside for safe keeping. She couldn't believe that the Archangel had left port. It was her only hope for getting back to England. She couldn't remember seeing Captain Sterling return from his trip into town and board ship.

It was shortly after Hamish left her on her own that she heard the shouts and the rabble of the crowds further down the street. Now, whispers float back and forth in the street that the murder has been caught. Was it true that Lewis Hutchinson had been taken by the red coats? She patted Mate upon the head and looked over a stack of crates.

Hamish?! She called out thinking she saw him along with several of his crew, all looking worse for wear. "Hamish, what has happened?"

"T'is awful Mistress. Our good Captain Sterling has been taken prisoner. Held under arrest. I fear the worse."

Lilly stood there in shock. "I must see him!"

[Nimrod Pinon]

“My Lord Darnley,

It is with the greatest of pleasure that I write to inform you that one has been taken and been buried away for the time being. You had instructed, in your last letter, that he should be forgotten in his present realm, but sir, I beg you to let the trial continue onward.”

Pen paused in mid-scratch as Pinon recalled Sterling’s behaviour as prison door was shut and locked, placing him alone in the dark, still bound hand and foot. Coat now gone and naught but foul straw to make his resting place. Already the man was stricken by his confinement and Pinon actually wondered if he would be able to stand trial without cracking first. Quill was replenished with fresh ink.

“The man is not well, if left for too long, he may perish in Marshallsea, and I fear then that the lady would continue to languish after him even once he is long dead. Perhaps the trial may cause new light to shed upon his sad character and bring about a questioning regarding her misplaced feelings for him, for even his latest marriage has not seemed enough to alter her course. At least if they find him guilty and he is hanged, he cannot possibly become a martyr in her eyes.

He remains devoid of council and coin and shall continue so until his downfall at the trial is accomplished. So rest easy M‘lord, your lady shall return to you presently.”

[Professor Angus Trilby]

With his new spyglass trained down the street, Professor Trilby saw the encounter between the guards, Sebastian, Ransom, and one other, as clear as if it were happening at his front door. He was certain the three would be shot, and could not imagine what had possessed them to confront the guards in the first place. Unless it had something to do with the chained prisoner. When the drunks burst forth from the Blood and Hanger, Trilby lowered the eyepiece of the glass, not wanting to watch a whole-scale massacre. When no musket fire followed, he put the glass back to his eye.

The drunks had stopped dead. Ransom ran back into the tavern. Sebastian was hurridly dragging the third figure away, and the prisoner, face crushed to the cobbles by a booted foot, finally lay still. Then another figure shouted something to the drunks, and they all pelted back into the Blood and Hanger.

"Humph," Trilby muttered. "Nae doubt, that she-devil has a knack of stirring up a ruckus. But she better nae bring it tae my house this time."

The sudden thought that she might had him quickly setting the spyglass aside, rushing down the stairs, bolting the front and back doors of the house, and latching the wooden storm shutters over the windows. He then returned to the roof top patio, and prepared to drop broken roof tiles on her head if she attempted to climb up.

[Robert B. Darnly]

It was well into the dead of night when a messenger came knocking on Lord Darnly’s door. Darnly stirred awaken from the loud knock at the front door. From his bed, he could hear the Steward’s footfall come down the hall towards the front door. Whispers were exchanged. It was difficult to hear his Steward and the stranger as the wind and rain continued to thrash about the roof and the windows. Soon there was silence. The foot fall of the Steward soon came closer to the master bedchamber.

“Who was that, Simon? Who would be out on a night like this?”

The Steward came forward towards the bed presenting a letter upon a silver tray.

“A messenger, my Lord. He said that it was one of your advisories. He said it was most urgent.”

Lord Darnly took the letter from the silver tray and opened it quickly. As his eyes skimmed over the dark black ink, his facial expression changed. “Good…God!” He whispered to himself. The quickly looked up at his Steward.

“You may go now Simon. I shall be taken my morning meal this morning then I plan to visit with Lord Sterling before noon. Cancel the rest of my appointments please.”

With a nod, the Steward bowed and exited the master bedroom. With one more glimpse of the letter, Lord Darnly then crumbled it in his hand. “It shall be a very interesting day, to say the least!”

[Ransom]

With the Rakehell healed over like a drunken sailor, and the careening crew hard at work on her bottom, I decided to pay my belated visit to Trilby. Before leaving the yards, I gave the rest of the crew permission to spend time in town, and told Ludo to arrange for provisions. This got me a scowl from Goose, but I ignored him.

Fortunately, the commotion of earlier that morning had died down. With Sterling hauled away to gaol, the soldiers had dispersed. I arrived at Trilby's door without being acosted by anyone wearing a red coat.

Before I could knock on the door, a roof tile hit me on the shoulder. Seething, I looked up to see the old man leaning out over the rooftop half-wall. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Keeping the devil from mae door. Be gone." Trilby hurled another tile, which exploded at my feet. I jumped back. "I'm not the devil, you madman, but if you don't stop trying to bash my brains in, I'll be glad to send you to him."

"I nae want the law on mae doorstep again. Every time you turn up, sae do a dozen louts wearing red coats. Searched mae house three times just a day ago."

"I had nothing to do with that."

"Ha! Sae you say. But I'll nae belive it."

Across the street, a very fat woman was staring at us. Two or three men on horses had pulled up to watch the altercation. Great, I thought, just what I needed. Another crowd to draw attention to myself. "Open the door, Trilby, ya great ox, or the red coats will show up for sure."

"Never!" And another tile crashed to the cobbles.

Furious with the old codger, but grateful that his aim was bad, I climbed the half-dead vine that clung to the wall. All the while, roof tiles rained off my shoulders and back. When I finally, bruised and breathless, breached the half-wall, I grabbed Trilby's arm before he could throw another tile at my head. "Leave off, blast you. I just came for a nice quiet visit."

His face purple with the effort of repelling me, Trilby sputtered, "God's teeth, I wish I had a vicious dog I could sic on yea."

['Bastian Devareaux]

Departure was steadfast and quickly negotiated; a controlled pace manipulation of byways and structures penned on mental cartography, negotiated with artful ease. Now, in the Safe hold of trusted Venetian Dove, Sister and Brother's thoughts layered and spun like Piscean shoal...separated perspectives of shared subject matter.

From second story perch, drapery was grasped gently and pulled ever so slightly away from natural rule of gravity. Italian Lady of the Eve comforted one while keeping eye on hang cloth assaulter. Curtain was allowed to cascade into natural stance and Brother turned, just enough to glance over shoulder. The fire of mischief that normally played dark eyes lay dead and buried without eulogy; lupine features set hard with stoic stance.

Drawing away from hidden glazier composition, Beggar Prince reached for deserted glass of fermented elixir, seeming to contemplate its' existence before ceasing its' presence. Soft words were spoken to kindred and instructions given. He lingered brief moments more, then quit chamber's shelter for intents of the outside world....

[Thomas Neede]

Thomas continued the transaction with polite small talk. All cards were dealt and the Governor's hand was showing.

Papers and signatures were transferred, and keys were delivered. With the hearted showing of a deal done, a small pipe of tobacco was procurred from the Agent's desk. Glasses were filled and raised once again to the agreement. All the while, Thomas knew he was standing to make quite a bit of money. Keep the Governour happy, and his pockets fat, and the less he would see of the man.

Thomas's belongings were already packed onto a carriage awaiting delivery to his tavern. Robert and Thomas spoke a moment longer and Robert gave directions to Thomas as well as his driver. Robert called aloud for a young runner to go along with Thomas to help him unpack and show him around the city. Handshakes and a sly wink from the Agent sent Thomas on his way.

"Bloody politics", Thomas mumbled as he stepped out of the office.

"Pahdon sah?" said the young boy.

"No matter. What's your name boy?"

"Edward, sah. Edward Sullivan."

"Very well Edward. Takes us to the Pub." Thomas handed an address to Edward who lept to the driver's seat and handed the driver the note.

[Cheeky Actress]

With a letter clutched in hand, Mistress Lilly approached the billet of the English officer. This was her last hope, she thought to herself. She drew a deep breath and lightly knocked upon the officer's door.

There she stood as if time had stopped. Would he be sympathetic to a woman’s plea?

['Bastian Devareaux]

The door came to close with whispered caress of oak upon Turkish composition below; the well oiled latch falling into secure almost as afterthought. Immediately, the pungent scent of patchouli whim overpowered any invasion of Port perfume and Younger hesitated to allow adjustment to darkened surrounds.

The form well placed in high backed support gave no motion or indication of acknowledgment, waiting ever patient for sibling's attendance. Petite breeze riffled velvet rouge hangings, teasing pillared tallow sentinels to Elder's left and right, then retreating from whence in came.

Younger neared with feline step, pausing at long burnished expanse of tome support; head tilting to the right minutely as if to study the one afore him. Silence held reign for the beating of moments; the stillness holding its' breath and awaiting Roi's animation. When the deepened tones of commanding airs did disperse what hung heavy the chamber; it was with silkened serpent's smooth....and venom lay within its' character. Sights of noir hue followed kindred's motion and stop...One word pirouetted in suspended buoyancy.....

"Explain..."

[Capt. Sterling]

Time had already been lost. As the heavy door to the cell drew to a close, Sterling had thrown himself against it in a last ditch effort to prevent the inevitable. How long he had pounded upon it, he did not know, but his hands were scratched and bruised from his desperation not to be left alone in the dark again unless by his own accord. He finally turned and leaned back against the barrier allowing himself to slip downward to the floor to rest amongst the filthy remains of straw that was to serve as his bedding. He shuddered slightly, then tried to inspect the useless damage he had caused himself, irons grumbling as reminder that, even locked away in this small space, he was far from free.

[Ian Finn]

The noise awoke me from as deep a slumber as I could get on the rat eaten excuse for straw and wool. A man in chains was tossed in a cell nearest me and he banged for some time. "Fer fek's sake man, wot 're ye 'n about?" I yelled at him. The man looked up and his face was familiar. "Well bloody fekkin' 'ell. Yer th' Cap'n tha' picked 'p me 'n me bruddah from th' storm some time back. Wot brings ye t' th' palace 'ere?"

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

Lady Violet sat in the shade of a small garden pavilion. In front of her was a cloth-draped table on which was displayed a magnificent silver tea set. Steam rose from the spout of the ornate tea pot. In her pudgy hand she held a delicate china cup decorated in the blue Willow pattern, its contents a pale amber liquid that smelled lightly of jasmine.

While she sipped her tea, Lady Violet thought about recent events, and how they would effect her or Albert. As she thought, she ws vaguely aware of the flora surrounding her. Not the quiet, civilized flowers and shrubs of her native England, but harsh, brilliant blooms, and aggressive plants with huge leaves, or thorns and spikes. This garden, she mussed, was a parody of the whole island - all bold color and spikes. For the present, it better suited her current mood.

Albert had ridden into town to assure himself that Sterling had in fact been arrested for the murder of the plantation overseer. Lady Violet was glad Albert had gone, as he had become quite tedious with his rantings over the lost slaves. The slaves were not what was important. The arrest of Lord Sterling's son was. On top of that, there was the situation with her rebellious niece. That little issue needed dealing with, and soon. Lord Seymour wouldn't wait forever, and Lady Violet was determined to create an alliance with that still powerful family.

She drank the last of her tea, tossed a bit of shortbread to Sugar, who had been begging and drooling at her feet, and decided that she, too, must make a trip into Port Royal.

[Liam Finn]

Liam sat in a small, out of the way tavern, musing over his glass of cheap rumbulion as to what to do next. Somehow, he had evaded capture by the soldiers but Ian had not. He had skirted around the soldiers and watched as they had taken Ian away. He followed at a distance to the prison, but dare not go closer until he had formed a plan. For the past three nights he had watched the change of the guard, the idiosyncrasies of the watch command. Then a man was brought in that he recognized. it was the kind captain of the ship that had pulled his brother and himself out of the seas wrath from their stolen skiff. He thought for a time until his name sprang from his mind. "Sterlin'. . . tha' be it. . . Capt'n Sterlin'. . . "

This was three hours past, and now he sat and mused as to what he would do to get his brother out, and if possible the captain as well. . . He heard others in the darkened corners mumbling about things best left be. A plan was forming slowly in his rum soaked brain. A plan that sobered him to the core. a plan that involved every ounce of gold and silver that he possessed, and hoped would buy some of these men for the time he needed them.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Well bloody fekkin' 'ell.  Yer th' Cap'n tha' picked 'p me 'n me bruddah from th' storm some time back.  Wot brings ye t' th' palace 'ere?"

Sterling twisted half way about, trying for a better view, chains protesting as he did. He strained in the darkness and though the voice was familiar, he could not place what little he saw. "Forgive me but I do not recall..." he stopped and tried once more, then shook his head, giving up. He turned about again and leaned back once more against the door of his cell. "It seems I have been brought here on the charges of pyracy and the shooting of some fellow from one of the plantations, or so I have been told. I only know the former to be a false, I have no recollection of the later. And what of yerself?"

[Ian Finn]

Erupting in laughter, I stammer between breaths, "A fekkin' pyrate eh?" The sullen Captain kept his head low. "Dinnot mean t' b' so mean t' ye, bu' yer ship innit fit fer a pyrate." The man didn't move. "An' fer killin' a man, ifin I b' caught fer all th' killin' I'da done, I' b' 'n th' hanged, tarred, an 'n th' gibbet by now." Just then, the main door to the jail swung open and the guard came through and banged hard on the cell doors. "QUIET DOWN NOW YOU," he snarled at me. I spat on the floor just in front of his boots. A slightly toothless smile emerged from my face. He scowled and drew his pistol, drawing a bead on me. "Yer not worth the lead." He withdrew the pistol from the bars and looked into the Captain's cell, and tried to rattle the cage. Slowly he inspected the rest, and closed the main door behind him. "Me? I'm no' guilty o' course," I said. A slight smile caught on the edges of the Captain's face.

[Thomas Neede]

"Sully, sah." The boy replied.

"Pardon?" Thomas quieried.

"Me name sah, is Edward, but I'm known by Sully."

"Very well Sully."

Thomas, Sully, and the driver had left the Customs House and headed back towards the docks. Turning north towards Fort James, they passed the King's Warehouse and soon found themselves on Cannon Street along the docks. The lanterns had been lit amongst the merchants and privateers in the harbor, and Thomas was doing his best to try and pick each out. The pass the Admiralty Court in a matter of several moments and Sully pointed this out to Thomas. He tells of the lashings that occur frequently along the dock, and shows the posts where the offenders are most often tied.

"Here we are sah," said Sully as he climbed out.

Thomas stood for a moment as Sully and the driver unloaded Thomas's things. The building was different from most of those Thomas had seen in the daylight. While most buildings were tall and narrow, his new tavern was shorter than the surrounding buildings but held a broad open porch before you entered. A large double door with heavy hinges was framed on either side by several large windows. Thomas turned his back to the pub to see his view. He looked north to see several ships riding at anchor is the easy night air.

"This will do nicely," he whispered to himself.

[Professor Angus Trilby]

Trilby was still fuming as Ransom made herself comfortable in one of his cushioned chairs. The afternoon sun blazed down on his bald head, so he reached for the straw hat currently shading the vacant eye-sockets of the skeletal dog standing by the door into the house. Trilby had put down the roof tile he had threatened Ransom with, but kept it close by as he sat across from her, in case he had a sudden change of heart.

Despite his enjoyment of the new spyglass, Trilby's week had not gone well. None of his experiments had turned out as he'd hoped, soldiers had attempted to search his house - a situation that put him in a fury of anxiety, lest some of his more rare and illegal items be confiscated, or get him arrested - and there had nearly been a mass shooting just down the street. Although he knew she was not at fault, he lay the blame for all these catastrophies at Ransom's booted feet.

As if reading his thoughts, she remarked, "What are you looking so sour about?"

"I thought tae have a bloody wee bit o' peace and quiet this fine day. I had nae intended tae be entertaining pyrates."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not back on that old saw again? Yes, I've done my share of pyrating. I've also done smuggling, trading, and legitimate business. You, and your like, have taken advantage of all those lines of work in order to procure your little bits and bobs of evil, and most probably illegal, liquids and powders." She leaned in toward him. "Just what the hell are you tring to create in that sulfurous study of yours?"

He retreived his roof tile and raised it threateningly. "That's nae any of your business. And I'll thank you tae be leaving these premisses forthwith!"

She leaned back and grinned at him. "Oh, I've plenty of time for a nice visit. The Rakehell is being careened, so I've all the time in the world to keep you company."

Trilby slammed the tile to the floor, where it shattered. "I'd rather keep company with the deevil himself."

Ransom merely cocked a brow. "Who said the devil was a 'him'?"

With a huff, Trilby flung back, "Nae doubt that's why you call that murderous ship of yours the RakeHELL!"

[Capt. Sterling]

"Me?  I'm no' guilty o' course," I said.  A slight smile caught on the edges of the Captain's face.

"Aye, of course not. None of us ever are, are we?" Sterling replied. "Tell my wife that, if ever ye find yerself on the outside of this prison again... and tell my bloody lawyer that as well, for it seems as though I shall never have the chance to speak with him personally."

He closed his eyes. The 'Angel no pyrate ship. Of course she wasn't. A small brigatine, true she were no swift sloop, but her speed was still good and she had been pierced to carry more guns then others of her class. Built in the privately owned Blackwall yards in London, her makers had been proud of her the day they handed her over to Sterling's safe keeping. No, certainly no pyrate's first choice for a ship, but a fine craft designed to hunt down and capture them that practiced the very thing he now stood accused of.

[Ian Finn]

"Tell my wife that, if ever ye find yerself on the outside of this prison again... "

I snickered. "Well Cap'n less' jus' say should 'n occasion arise, an' tha' ifin my bruddah does 's he says he gonna do, 'n should fekkin' do, tha' arsehole, an' yerself makes way t' tha' lovely wife o' yers, less jus' say ya owe 's one." I squinted at the Captain, but with the dark light in the cells, I couldn't see him. I heard the chains rattle as it sounded like he stood.

[Liam Finn]

Liam had approached some of the men, who cautiously looked him up and down. He spoke low, and of a deed he needed done this eve. Coin was promised, and those in need of such were eager to claim their pieces of eight. He left them in the tavern and headed out to a well known stash of arms and other supplies he and Ian had stumbled upon some time ago. In the darkness he fumbled about as quietly as he could. Soon he was back out in the street carrying a cask on his shoulder. He stuffed a length of dark, thin line in his pocket and steadied the cask as he walked quickly towards the prison. He took up his hiding spot and waited for the right moment. When the guards were at their furthest, he sprinted to the outer wall of the prison and began whispering in gaelic through the small bared windows of the cells. Finally he was answered by Ian. “Where th’ fek ye been! I been in ‘ere days now!” Liam stood and tried to reach through the bars and grab Ian, but he backed away out of reach. “Stow it ye bas’ard. . . I’m ‘ere now, gonna get yer out soon. . .I saws tha’ Capt’n Sterlin’ get hauled in earlier, ye seen ‘im?” Ian began to laugh and Liam hissed at him to shut it. Still giggling Ian pointed to the next cell. “Cap’n’s right ‘ere b’sides me! Neighbours we be!” Liam peered through the bars and saw a dark shape in the next cell. “Right . . . I’ll sees wot I c’n do. . . I’ll be back. . .” He sprinted back to his spot and waited until those men he talked to were about. He made his way over to them and spoke at length what he wanted them to do to earn their coin. Once an accord was made, he put the money in their hands and was off. Back in his spot, he took out his knife and pried a bit of the cask open revealing the black grains of powder within. There he placed the end of the thin line and spooled it out. Right on time, the men he hired began to cause a ruckus not far from the prison gates. Soon, the guards’ attention was on them. They even called out to stop what they were about. Liam waited patiently and held the cask on his shoulder a flint and steel in his other hand. The moment arrived finally, when the guards left their posts to stop the ruckus. Again Liam darted to the wall of the prison and set the cask where he thought it would serve best. Spooling out the line he laid it out, crouched and worked the flint and steel, throwing sparks at the end of the fuse. Once it caught some, he blew on it until it really started to burn. He figured thirty to fourty-five seconds before it burned to the end. He sprinted to the window. “Ian! Take cover away from the wall and wait fer it!” Ian giggled and said ‘aye’, Liam sprinted away and up to his vantage point, waiting for the explosion.

[Nimrod Pinon]

"What the bloody hell?!?" Pinon choked back as he rounded the corner. His dark gloved hand shot out to halt the young child baring the lanter before him. Hand now covering the youth's mouth as he was shoved hard up against the far wall of Marshallsea. The child was silently signaled to remain where he was as Pinon moved to take the lead and snake his way along the stones. Was Sterling's inlaws already on the move to free him from gaol after doing nothing to stop his arrest and, seemingly, nothing since?

Ice blue eyes narrowed in the dark as they continued to study the figure at a distance, then widened, recognizing no member of Le Cour but the very man imprisoned next to Sterling himself. Impossible, Pinon thought to himself, then quickly realized it had to be a brother of the man inside. As spark hurried down match to powder keg, Pinon panicked. His prize was all too close on the other side of the keg that was about to blow.

He turned with harsh whisper, "RUN!" he ordered the child. Then took to his own heels, hands to mouth shouting for all the world to hear the alarm that some fool was trying to blow up Marshallsea Prison.

[Cheeky Actress]

“I have no power over this matter, Mistress…McKinney?” Lilly nodded slightly as she acknowledged her name, looking back at the Officer of the Gate. He looked over the letter's content closely. “You see, this matter can only be addressed by the Governor himself.” He said placing the letter back into Mistress McKinney’s hand. “Even though this letter seems to be in proper order, there is nothing I can do. It is beyond my control I’m afraid.” And with that he tried to comfort her with a slight smile.

Lilly’s eyes began to well up with tears. Her lover’s end was evident. “Perhaps if I were to plead my case to the Governor, surely he would listen to my case and then he wou…” “I am sorry, Mistress,” Interrupted the young Officer as he sat back down at his desk, “The Governor has been preoccupied with the matters of his command and station these last few days. I am sure that if you seek audience with him, you may be waiting quite some time.”

Crushed and devastated Lilly gave the young Officer a long and arduous stare. “Very well, Sir, I shall bid thee good-night. But this is not the last you shall see of me. I will do everything in my possession and power to make sure that Captain Sterling is released from this Hell you call a prison…even if I have to call upon Satan himself to burn the damn place down!”

With that a forceful blast shattered the windows to the Gate house throwing Mistress Lilly and the young Officer to the ground.