Port Royal, Jamaica

['Bastian Devareaux]

Dawn's fingers tested the edges of curtain hang and managing to gain small advance, lay contrast of light fissure against velvet rouge. Tiny flecks of dust danced in stream of invading soliel, their coursing a ballet negotiated on whimsy of minute draft. The once lively hearth had reversed phoenix revel, ash monuments lay as recollections of memories form. Beggar Prince maintained evening's thrown, exhaustion finally over taking before eloquated bed could be conquered.

Slightest whisper of knock sounded within the recesses of chamber's intimate surrounds and lone occupant stirred minutely. The hushed clamor of lock being released from oaken hold, brought forth instinctual and abrupt alertness; though such was hidden under ruse of opposite means. Door was secured in former stance, and familiar trod of footstep caress upon Persian surface brought ease to hearth companion's senses.

Jason's approach was noted and tracked by dark pools of visual existence; form stretching to release kinks gained within chair's confine. It was an easy acceptance that needed no verbose in acknowledgment betwixt the two where there had been only one.

Parchment in folded manner, appeared from newly arrived's coat and was offered to Other. Accepted and transferred, seal was broken and contents perused carefully. Sabastian laid paperment upon near standing table and contemplated Talbot's correspondence briefly before leaving chair's support to shift velvet hang. Lane below was surveyed in silence, rouge blind replaced....Throne obtained, once more.

Younger waited quietly, patiently, for what would next dictate his actions.

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

Lady Violet's breakfast of a small squab, stewed mango, sugared biscuits, and tea, was interupted by a knock on her door. Her maid, Kitty, opened it and one of the Royal Grace servants entered, head bowed.

"Yes, what is it?" Lady Violet asked peevishly, as she was nursing a headache.

The servant knuckled his forehead. "If ya please, ma'am. There's a man downstairs says he has a message for you."

"What sort of message? Why couldn't you bring it up?"

"Well, the man says he's to deliver the note to your hands directly, but Mr. Spindlethorpe wouldn't let him come no further into the inn, being as how he's the bigest Blackamoor he's ever seen."

Lady Violet, suddenly intrigued and always up for an adventure, stood, dumping Sugar unceremoniously to the floor. "A Blackamoor, you say?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, I had best straighten out this little mystery. Go back to the common room and tell the messenger I'll be down directly. Oh, and direct that a small Irish whiskey should be waiting as well. I need something to clear this aching head of mine."

The boy bowed again, and left the room.

Lady Violet turned eagerly to her servant. "Kitty, what is the proper costume to wear when one is meeting a giant Blackamoor?"

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling’s exhaustion resulted in a deep slumber. Childermass had long since departed before charge’s broken spirit and body found solace in the safety of dreams. Mind now stirred as body lay still save for breath, stirred in a place remembered from what now seemed long ago.

He had first seen her earlier that evening. As young as she was, she was captivating her audience with a talent that many could only wish for and the beauty of…

Body shifted in sleep and pain filled groan escaped but dreams remained intact.

…A brilliant gem, graceful and so confident in nature it was easy to understand the ease of her success…Like the others in the crowd, he had sat there, enraptured by her performance until the shock of her appearance, so very much like the beloved Tess he had just lost to childbirth, had so shaken him that he had to leave the theater. In his dreams, as he had in reality, he allowed himself to slip to the ground outside the back of the theater. His nerves affecting the illness he was already battling, he had hugged his knees tightly to his chest to try and ease the pain. And then, his dream skipped forward, allowing him the escape from certain memories, the loss of his wife, the birth of his daughter and he left alone not knowing how to cope with either.

To clear his head, he had gone to a distant inn close to the Thames and the Archangel and taken a seat in its tavern. Soon one bottle of port, sat emptied by his elbow, the smoke from a pipe enfolding him in its embrace. The tavern had not yet filled with its usual trade and he relaxed in its calm.

But then, she had entered. Silently, gowned in dark blues, a vizard hiding her features, she nearly blended in with the building‘s darkness. Still, he had noticed her but did not know her. He had watched as she had gotten her key from the innkeeper and made her way to the stairs. She had paused then, one gloved hand just resting upon the banister and she had turned to look at him. It was then he thought he knew her, and was stunned to find someone of such acclaim wandering unescorted through the back alleys of London. She turned and took the first step upward, then halted again. Glance was gracefully offered to him once more and he rose from his place and followed her upstairs.

[Cheeky Actress]

Lilly awoke with a start.  She had thought she hear voices downstairs.  She quickly looked about the room.  Nelly had left her bed.  An uneasy feeling came over her. 

Lilly crept from the bed and looked out the window only find a dark figure on the bench outside.

Lilly remained at the window looking down at the young man waiting in the garden. From the small grouping of flowers clutched in his hand, she could tell his call was one of an amorous nature and she wished him success in his venture. Unlike herself. She moved back to her bed and a sat down, struggling not to cry. If she had only married her beloved Captain in the first place perhaps none of this would be happening now. She shook at the thought of his current condition and worried about how little she might be able to help him.

As she lay back down, she thought about the young man outside and remembered her Johnny when they first met.

In the dark shadows of a narrow alleyway, Lilly skirted her way towards London Bridge all under the guise of her soft velvet mask. The cold winds of autumn sprang up as she drew her cape close to her. A man and a woman rushed by her. He and his whore made their way to one of the many shoddy stick framed houses on the bridge. For a moment, she thought he may have recognized her, but she was mistaken. She fancied this new trend of fashion, this disguise that made her life bearable. To her, it was almost liberating knowing that she could move about Old London Town without a care of being seen or being seen with whomever she liked. She made it a custom to dress in her dark blue gown and caplet and hide away from those who flocked to her stage door after her performances and she would always disappear from those who wanted to see her the most. Her adoring fans flocked to her like moths to fire, but she never truly felt comfortable with it...and perhaps she never would. She walked slowly through the muddied streets until she came upon the tavern called, "The Slaughter Lamb". It was here she felt at ease, expressing herself and her moods freely.

As she made her way inside, she thought to herself about the strange talk about town. Rumors circulated about the theater that made her smile a bit. One stated that she was nothing more than a spirit or a ghost; skillfully dodging anyone and everyone who tried to find her. This game of cat and mouse made her feel empowered in a strange sort of way. She fancied it...she loved to play such games. It was in her blood to be able to out think the other's ability to win. Yes, trickery was a wonderful asset to have in life, as long as you had the right opponent to make it worth your while. She looked across the tavern as the innkeeper approached. It was there she saw the pale skinned Captain. Her eyes took him in and discovered that he still looked shaken from being ill at the theater earlier that evening. With that thought in mind she seriously considered, perhaps tonight she would give chase to that gallant young man who almost ruined her nightly performance.

[Cheeky Actress]

She trembled as he followed her. The excitement was too great. It was then the game began for her. It was then she reached behind her and took his hand. His was warm and she could feel its strength through the leather glove that covered it. Surprisingly, she thought it was still a tender touch from such a stranger. She favored him once more with backward glance. The Captain had looked up into the soft black velvet face and was instantly ensnared by the two dazzling blue eyes that fixed on his. Lilly remembered wondering who was truly conquering who at that moment.

They continued on down a dark hall to the chambers Lilly rented. It was a place for her to escape to. A place where she could do as she pleased, make love to who she chose, avoiding the constant trafficking of powerful lovers that were necessary to keep her clothed and feed and in the public eye. Like the mask, it allowed her, her freedom to do as she desired. For a brief second she felt his other hand rest against her waist before he was forced to step back in the hallway’s narrowness. Her heart skipped a beat. Funny how all the men she drew here, always seemed to know the rules of this game.

In the room Lilly found a candle next to the bed and lit it. The fire had been roused about an hour before by one of the maid servants of the tavern. She busied herself about the room as the Captain stood in the doorway at first, not knowing if he should proceed with his rakish behavior. The port was already clouding his judgment but she did not mind. She wanted him there for one purpose only. When she was finished, he would leave and she would have nothing to do with him ever again. Like all the others, at that point she had no intentions of keeping him or coaxing him back… how wrong she had been.

[Capt. Sterling]

The dream state carried on as Sterling shifted painfully once more. Once again he was standing in the door way of her bed chambers... she, still masked, as with a soft sigh she sat herself down upon the foot of the bed.

Hesitantly he took a step into the room but still not far enough within to easily allow no chance of retreat. He was certainly being invited further but the drink was too busy fusing one thought with another and he could not yet determine if he should allow himself to subcum to fleshly passions...

... for the first and foremost thought that continued to resurface was that of his late wife Tess. Oh, how he missed her.   Missed everything about her; her voice in the morning, her warmth at night, even her argumentative nature which he always seemed to attribute to her elusive past.   Yet, when she was alone with him, he truly knew her heart, her mind, her deepest feelings, that, which she had held in for so long. It hadn't been until she married him that she felt at ease with openly demonstrating her expressions of love for him.   One single kiss from her upon his arrival home meant more to him then the gifts she bestowed upon him.   She was everything to him…the very breath he himself drew upon to live.  He had almost whispered her name when he heard the masked woman gently call out "Sir?".   He stirred from his reverie and looked at her, momentarialy wondering who she was and how he found himself now in her presence. The glow of the candle light made her eyes shine brightly.   It was then he took another step inward and closed and locked the door behind him.

 

Edited April 3, 2009 by Capt. Sterling

[Cheeky Actress]

It was barely dawn when Lilly looked out the kitchen window. She placed the last piece of bread into her basket. Once again, she had dressed herself in the guise of the old hag and was determined to make her way back into the prison. As she placed a piece of linen over her basket, she heard a sound behind her.

“Morning. Off again?” Nelly Greene’s tone was light and airy – showing concern for Lilly’s actions.

“I must.” Lilly muttered as she quickly picked up a jug of cider. “I cannot sit here and wait.” Lilly turned toward Nelly. “I suppose you think me foolish risking everything to see him." Her face fell at the thought of him in that place. “He is poorly and I fear the worst if he does not get any help soon.” Nelly lent against the door and rubbed her eyes clear of sleep.

“Did your guise work the last time? Did no one question you?” Lilly drew her hood upon her head. “I am here standing in front of you, am I not? I do not think anyone suspects me for anything other than whom I pretend to be. I am grateful that my years upon the stage have assisted me in the matter. Fear not, I note your concern.”

Lilly turned and looked at the other woman. “But if I do not return by the hour of nine, do send word to the ‘brotherhood’.” With that, Lilly quickly gathered up the basket and left through the back door of the house.

It was a lonely walk down the cobblestones to the jail. In the darkness her thoughts turned back to the first time, she saw her Captain in his cell. At first, she was hesitant to the idea of disguising herself as an old crowne to gain access but Nelly Greene had assured Lilly that was the only way. No ordinary man nor woman would be granted access to see the condemned Captain. Lilly had done terrible things to obtain a little bit of coin, and although this act of mercy was more dangerous, she felt in her heart that it would be the right thing to do.

She had only been able to look upon the Captain briefly the first time. He laid there in a miserable state. He had been beaten severely and his wounds had not been tended to. His clothes were tattered and soiled not just from the filth of the prison, but bodily waste as well. The smell was over powering. Yet, as he had stirred from his dreams, she had lent over and whispered his name. “John…John Sterling.” Then touched his face softly. He responded to the tender touch by whispering her name…not his child bride's. Quickly she had pressed her fingers to his lip to quiet him and his startled reaction at not finding his lover upon opening his eyes but some old witch had visible shaken him. "Shhh, now be still. I am here on behalf of that lady for she loves you and always will."

"Give her my thanks. Tell her she is still in my heart." He could barely whisper the words, but this one tender act gave Lilly the hope she needed to proceed with her hazardous scheme.

She managed to make her way through the front doors of the jail by muttering the name, Sebastian Devareaux, to the guard in charge. She watched him shudder as he quickly stood aside and let her pass. As she made her way past the gatehouse and the barracks, she soon found her way toward the jail. It was there a large, burly man stood guarding the door. With a gruff snort and a damning look, her stopped he in her path.

“Here…where do ye think ye be going?” He muttered to Lilly, than spat at her feet. Lilly’s eyes narrowed and she let out a cackle.

“Step aside fool! I have me work to do. I come to see the sea captain they claim murdered the Trade Winds' overseer. I bring him food and much needed care.” The man looked down at her and grunted his concerns.

“No one sees him. ‘Tis the command of Master Pinion himself. He’s not to have any visitors unless by his consent.”

“Pinion?” Muttered Lilly.

That name rang familiar to her. She had seen his signature upon papers to Darnly in the last few weeks before she left him. There was always an air of secrecy about this man. Darnly would never say who he was or why he had correspondence with him, only that it was no concern of hers. These were business matters that she not worry herself with. Yet, she knew if Pinion was here in Port Royal, it was only because Darnly had sent him. The wheels in her mind began to turn and she now feared that she was walking into a trap.

“Pinion? What do I care of him? I know of others who wish the condemned to be tend to. Or should I tell Sebastian Devareaux and his associates that you said otherwise?” It was at the very mention of Devareaux’s name that the guard’s face turned pale.

“Devareaux? The devil, you say!” He stuttered in a hushed whisper. “Very well, come with me.” As the door opened to the jail, he took her down into the darkest part. A dark, dank place, which reeked with the stench of rotten food, prison illnesses, unkempt bodies and waste. The guard quickly took out his keys and looked over his shoulder. It was then he whispered back to her.

“You have only a few moments. I shall keep watch, but for the love of God woman, be quick about your task!”

The jail door opened and she was given a lamp to see by. There in the corner she saw him, curled up into a tight ball with no cloth or blanket to keep him warm. As she drew closer, she raised the lamp to see his face. The very sight nearly made her vomit. It appeared that he had been beaten again and that his condition had worsened. She quickly knelt down to examine him. His face was now bloodied. His left ear now stained with a dry path of blood. His hands had been bruised and his right leg showed a gash in it.

"Why have they done this to you, Johnny?”

She quickly went to task as to clean his face and tend to his other injuries. “It will be all right, Johnny. I’m here for you my love,” She whispered softly. With a nurturing touch, she bathed his injuries to his face first. She wiped way the blood gently as she could. It was then she heard her name again, ever so lightly, he called out for her. “Lilly…Lilly.” It was then his eyes struggled to open. “Tis I, Johnny. I am here.”

“Lilly? My sweet dear Lil…” As Sterling finally focused upon the dark figure that hovered over him, a mask of confusion fell upon his battered features. “But..?! Who the hell are you?!”

[Ransom]

Africa waited in the common room of the Royal Grace, while the proprietor glared at him from behind a counter. To Africa, the pale, skinny man with watery blue fish-eyes looked like a walking corpse, and he edged further away, not wanting the undead to infect him with some kind of unnatural sickness.

Time seemed to crawl, and Africa became more and more nervous. The half-dozen other patrons all glared at him as well, and some rested hands on weapons in a most threatening way. If the rich auntie didn't show up soon, Africa thought, he would leave.

From behind him, a female voice blurted out, "Bless me, you are a giant, aren't you?"

Africa spun around to find a plump, steely-eyed woman examining him. She was dressed in pale green silk, with a hat on her head that resembled a full fruit basket.

"Are you da rich auntie?" he asked.

The woman's chin came up. "I beg your pardon?"

"I spossed to give this note to the rich auntie. Is dat you?"

"Just what is this all about? Speak up man, I don't fancy loitering in a common room all day while you make up your mind."

It was the tone of voice that convinced him he had the right woman. "Now I know where da captain get her temper."

The plump woman snapped her fan. "Don't be impertinant. Do you have a message for me, or don't you?"

Africa dug into his coat pocket and held out the crumpled, folded note, sealed with red wax. "I spossed to give this to you. The ol' man say you would know what to do."

The woman snatched the note from his hand, opened it, read it, then gave a great huff. "Good God." Then she turned to Spindlethorpe and snapped, " I'll need two strong lads, something to carry a body on, and my coach to be made ready."

Spindlethorpe, somewhat overcome by these vollys of requests, at first did nothing.

"Today, Mr. Spindlethorpe," she shouted, "or by God, you'll never see my face — or my money — in this establishment again."

Fortunately, the woman didn't see Spindlethorp's split-second hesitation, but Africa did, and grinned.

When the lads were assembled, and a cart made ready and padded with blankets, the woman gestured wildly with her fan. "Lead on, Sir Blackamoor. Take me to that troublesome niece of mine at once."

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling lay there completely bewildered. Then bewilderment quickly turned to disquiet and agitation.

“I asked ye who ye are?“ he demanded, as he tried, without success, to place more distance between himself and the stranger he had woken to find hovering over him.

But the eccentric looking, old hag, seemed nearly frantic to calm him before being willing to offer up an explanation.

"Hush! Lower your voice, Captain Sterling!" She muttered, her voice harsh and irritating to his ears. Raising one finger to her dried, cracked lips she softly pressed those of her other hand to silence his.

"Do not sound the alarm for you are not in danger. Not from me. I have only come to help you, so please be still and I shall tell you what tis you must do John, for the sake of all who know and care for you." She quickly drew herself closer to him. “For Sarah, your crew,” the old woman faltered briefly before she added, “that new wife of yours and… others who love you.”

“How do ye know me?” he whispered trying to abide by her request.

One aged hand came to gently comb the matted hair from his eyes. As if a familiar practice, a thin finger came to trace along the deep scar upon his face. He recognized that touch and, losing himself to it, his eyes closed as he momentarily allowed himself to rest his cheek easy against the woman’s palm. With a start, he brought himself around again and looked up at her.

“Who are ye?” he whispered this time. The old woman continued to look him over a moment longer, her expression pained by what she saw. Once more she gently cradled his face in her hand.

“Oh Johnny do you not know me?” she whispered low, her voice now soft, known, but struggling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“Tis I. Lilly. I have come to help you if I can.”

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

Lady Violet was ushered in to the strangest room she had ever seen. The walls were covered with anatomical and astronomical charts, odd bits of notes, and scribbled symbols. Filling the floor to ceiling shelves on the wall behind a cluttered desk, were old volumes, dusty scrolls, numerous bones and rocks, vials of strange powders, jars of stranger liquids, and sealed beakers containing God-knew-what floating in wombs of alcohol — and a ginger cat, glaring down at her with amber eyes. Bunches of herbs, and a set of battered pewter measuring cups hung from the rafters. On the desk were more books, writing instruments, sealing wax held over a spirit burner, an oil lamp, and a jumble of papers. The room smelled of grilled fish, musty herbs, and sulfer. Lying on a cot, and covered with a thread-bare blanket, was her sleeping niece.

A man looking like a demented wizard remarked, "I see you got mae note. Took your own sweet time tae get here."

Violet's eyebrows shot up, then lowered in a glare. "Do you know who I am?"

"Sure, and you're the rich auntie, come tae take this she-devil off mae hands."

"Just how did my niece end up in your hands in the first place?"

The man thrust out his chin, which was covered in a tangled, faded red beard. "Before this hoyden broke intae mae house, I was left in peace tae do mae work. Since that evil day, I've had naught but trouble — fire, hurricane, soldiers knocking down mae door, nae tae mention a few Frenchman and a demented actress. Then, tae cap things off, three days ago yon blackamoor brings her back, just when I thought I was rid of her for good and all, and she's been stuck like a pig and bleeding all over mae carpets. I've tended her proper, but now it's time for her family tae take her on."

One would think, confronted with such a tirade, Lady Violet would had given the old man a good set-down. But as it happened, Violet admired those who stood up to her and gave as good as they got. "Very well, you needn't bother with her any further. I'm prepared to take her to Trade Winds. Have you any instructions on her care?"

Obviously surprised that she would ask, he replied, "Weel, I've cleaned the wound proper, and treated it with sulfer. Her lung wasna punctured, and sae far there's nae infection, sae I'd say the only thing she needs is rest and good food. Howsomever, if the wound starts tae smell like a cesspit, or red lines start tae crawl down her arm, you send yon Blackamoor for me, whippety quick. She's lost enough blood already, and I'll nae have some crab-handed doctor siphoning off any more."

"Very sensible," Lady Violet replied. "Very sensible indeed."

Her neice, carried with maternal care by the big black man, was transferred from cot to cart, made comfortable, and covered with a clean blanket. Lady Violet had followed the lads to the street. The old gentleman stood in the doorway, and before the little cavelcade moved off, pointed at the Blackamoor.

"Since yea won't hae a choice, let our big friend here watch over yon lassie. Like as not, when the man who tried to kill her finds out he didna succeed, he'll be back tae try again."

Lady Violet nodded and handed the old man a purse full of coins. "Very sensible, I'm sure."

[D.Patrick Burke]

"So's the gerl left ye out in tha' garden all of the night, did she now?"

Devon's attention was drawn from barmaid's progress of the Common to center on Kelley, "Aye, tis the Laird's own trut'....But would ye be expectin' anytin' else from a English wan?"

"Now's tha' ye be makin' mention o' such..." Kelley's words trailed off as barmaid crossed again. Raising the rough hewn mug indicating object of interest, he continued matter of factly. "Better to stick wit' yer own anyways. 'Sides, no havin' to deal wit' all those lawdyda ways an' wants, say I."

Sampling from his own mug, one brow raised slightly to the statement. The vessel returned to table keeping, Devon leaned forward snagging a roll from yawn of basket, "Aye, but I'm t'inkin' tha' I might be able to overlook such a t'ing...." Impish expression glossed angled features, "at least fer a night er two....maybee even t'ree..."

"T'ree what?" female voice queried.

"T'ree days an' nights alone wit' yer fine self would shurly mean I could be dyin' a happy an' fulfilled fella, Kate..."

Tray was shifted in heft as barmaid looked at Kelley's attempt to hide amusement and the other's further attempt at fawned innocence. "Devon Burke! Ye well know that lyin' is a right sin..."

He blinked, "Ah now gerl, there be no lyin' comin' out o' me own lips. Yer as fine as sunshine onna' first day o' spring, true as true is. Why don' ye tell the Aul Fella tha' ye be needin' some time off....Say t'ree days an' nights...."

"Ye go on now, bigh....Ye can tell him tha' an' I'll be one to wait here an see wha' he tells ye," she baited.

"Oh no, cara..." hands were held out in mock fending. "Wouldna' be me place to say such a t'in' to the Aul Fella. Might be unhealthy fer buzziness relations an' the like."

"I was t'inkin' as much." Empty mugs were retrieved and fresh ones exchanged.

"Yer a right angel, Kate."

"An yer jus' the opposite, lad." she replied with a smile.

"Tis me only character flaw, gerl..." he sighed.

[Capt. Sterling]

“How do ye know me?” he whispered trying to abide by her request.

One aged hand came to gently comb the matted hair from his eyes. As if a familiar practice, a thin finger came to trace along the deep scar upon his face. He recognized that touch and, losing himself to it, his eyes closed as he momentarily allowed himself to rest his cheek easy against the woman’s palm. With a start, he brought himself around again and looked up at her.

“Who are ye?” he whispered this time. The old woman continued to look him over a moment longer, her expression pained by what she saw. Once more she gently cradled his face in her hand.

“Oh Johnny do you not know me?” she whispered low, her voice now soft, known, but struggling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“Tis I. Lilly. I have come to help you if I can.”

Movement of escape from other's grasp only caused sufferings to increase and yet, Sterling felt compelled to pull away from the other's touch.

"If tis thee, Mistress, then all the more sound my reasoning, to tell thee to leave me be. Go away! I want no help from thee."

With a gasp, he managed to free himself from her and push himself upward upon one arm. With other hand, he tried to cradle split skull and stop that blinding pain that coursed through his aching head.

"If it were not fer thee, and the fact that mine own judgment has played me false regarding thee, I would not be in such a place!" he whispered harshly through clenched teeth. "Go, get thee gone from this hellhole. I wish now I had never loved thee."

[Cheeky Actress]

"If it were not fer thee, and the fact that mine own judgment has played me false regarding thee, I would not be in such a place!" he whispered harshly through clenched teeth. "Go, get thee gone from this hellhole. I wish now I had never loved thee."

Those very words wrenched her heart. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes, but this was no time for tears.

As she looked upon him the horror of his situation was brought to life. Though she herself felt the pain of his words, she could not fathom the pain in which he was experiencing through his own personal hell.

She saw the markings of his constant beatings; blood caked in his hair and upon his face, his hands and neck bruised and the stench of his own filt over whelmed her. Yet, she could not leave him, not in his hour of need.

"Know this, Captain Sterling." She muttered in her elderly tone. "I know that there be a man here in Port who seeks you out and he will cozen ye out of your life if ye let him. And as God be my wittness to it, this shall not happen!" She quickly grabbed his hand.

"Here me?!" She whispered a bit louder until he once again moved his head towards her direction. "I will attend to ye yet I fear your condition is sad. Fear not, I shall seek help elsewhere. There be many here in Port, perhaps a Barber who knows the trade and will not inquire as to why a Grandam seeks such advice." She patted his hand, then kissed it lightly.

"I will return shortly with bevers from the butery along with other items as well."

As she looked down at him once more she let out a lonely sigh. "Fear not Dear One."

[Capt. Sterling]

He frowned, then in a mocking tone, scoffed at her warning.

“A man wishes to trick me of my life?” He gave a sniff of derision. “I am not a feared for I love not my life. I have made a muddle of it and it seems with each passing day, I but confound it furthermore. Give it to him freely I would if I but knew who he were.”

He snatched his hand away from her and instantly regretted the sudden action.

“What I would give to begin again. There be only one thing that matters and that has alluded me as long as I can recollect.” Wearied, he laid himself down once more, drawing his knees up and close to his body. One filthy hand came to caress tender head as other closed about his legs.

"Go away!" he insisted. "Keep thy repast to thyself or give thy aide to someone that cares for it. Mark me, I care not."

[Cheeky Actress]

She looked down upon him as he lay, his hand carefully rubbing bruised skin. She knew he was in no condition to speak as he should, so she stood, choosing not to believe him but for now doing as he asked.

She gathered her skirts and things and made her way to the heavy door. Lightly she rapped her knuckles upon it and waited only moments before the door was opened and she was free to leave the prison. Hunched over and limping slightly, the old hag made her way out into the free world and in search of the medical assistance she would need. But who could she trust? Should she turn to the Egyptians to help? She remembered the poor Irish fellow sitting in Nelly Greene's garden. Mayhaps he could guide her in the proper direction.

[Nelly Greene]

Nelly had risen early. Fine linen jacket was carefully draped about slender shoulders, barely covering night dress, as maid gave report as to events that had already transpired.

"She has not come back as of yet. But the one has finally gone," she said with a slight snort of irritation.

The Lady made her way to the window to confirm at least part of what the girl had said. The garden was now empty.

"Sabastian Devareaux sends his spies onto my property does he? The man is a thorn in my flesh to say the least. " Elegant features stared downward a moment longer before she turned with all due haste.

"Quickly now. It seems we must take matters into our own hands where John Sterling is concerned. I have no intentions of losing him to either his wife or his whore. If I still wish to remain in this game, there is work to be done and important people to," she smiled gracefully as she added, "Converse with."

[Capt. Sterling]

He tarried, he knew not how long before he called forth the energy to fight his way upward upon his feet. Legs shook as he tried to steady himself and then force his way to the door that barred his freedom.

As he closed upon his target, battered head leaned hard upon the coarse wood and body slumped against it in attempt to remain aloft. Once fist collided but he found it easier to pound open palm again and again upon the surface until finally someone on the other side heard him.

[D.Patrick Burke]

"Now then, there's a right bit o' it." He crowed victoriously as cards in hand were brought to bare. Splayed upon worn table surface to ensure no gruff, cards were deserted to collect the wager earned. "I would almost be feelin' the guilts taken ye hard earned coin me sons...."Devon quipped matter of factly. "Bu' ye entered into the game free an' willin'..." Coins were pocketed deftly, "Still....I'll be tellin' the trues when I says to ye, tis never the satisfaction tha' I reap from fleecin' the Landlords here 'bouts an' bein' a patriotic son....I'll be buyin' the next round, fellas."

Waving to the Barman then making a circling motion indicating the table, Devon settled back in comfortable posture to continue holding court. Tales were exchanged amongst those present, some true....others semi-so....then those that could not be further from it. Information was exchanged, libation flowed and kindredship relished.

Kate passed by to inspect the levels of mug gathering, progress halted by quick tug downward and lap seating. An expression of mock displeasure crossed fair features as eyes centered on offender.

"Did ye ask the Aul Fella, Kate?" came the mischievous inquiry, answered by playful cuff. Arms tightened about young waist, "C'mon now, gerl...Ye know tis only yer best interes' I have in mind, now..."

Her featured pinched minutely, " Yer a rascal, Devon Burke an' I be sure ye cause yer dear ma not'in' but grief wi' yer ways..."

"Oh nay, cara....Twas me Ma's pride an' joy...."

"Wha' did I tell ye o' lyin', bigh?" she chided.

Arms retreated their hold, and gentle upward shove given to aid in former standing posture. Kate clicked her tongue as if showing displeasure, then smiled secretively before returning to the bar.

"Fine gerl, tha' one..."

Mumbles of accord made table's proxy.

[Cheeky Actress]

Lilly made her way to the lower dock area of Port Royal. Morning skies now grew grey and dark. It was a testament of how things were unfolding within this tiny part of her life.

As she continued to walk the narrow streets she thought back on his words…”I wish now I had never loved thee!”

She knew that his was distress and anger at his situation. No, he could not mean them. How could he? Though he was a man who never hid his cutting sentiments for anything vile, she knew that he was set upon only out of desperation. Perhaps if she had known him before his capture in Algiers thing would be different between them. Mother Rose mentioned on more than one occasion that if God had smiled upon his mother, his life would have been altered and he would have taken another path.

As Lilly turned into another narrow alley, she found the mort whom she befriended only days earlier, lingering near a voider. “You there…” muttered Lilly in her gruff voice, pausing once or twice to hack and cough. “How be thee and your Clipper husband!”

The mort looked slightly disgusted at the old woman’s address. “Pish! If you are feeble, do not come here to draw your last breath. Draw yourself yon hereright!”

“Nay, I seek a physic which can tend to me. Argh, this catarrh curses me.” Lilly sneezed. “Argh, the ague is worse than afore.”

The Mort stepped aside and looked a bit more concerned at the old hag. “God save you, Grandam. A physic you seek? You will find none here. There be only Mountebanks about”.

“Is there no one here that I can seek treatment?” The mort turned and looked over her shoulder than whispered to the old hag. “There be but one. A physic; so he claims, by the alias of Croaker. You will find him passed the Copeman’s house and the Mercer’s shop. He maintains a small flat just below the Bawdy house. There you will find him.”

Lilly nodded, coughed and sneezed again. “Thank thee kind mort. I shall say my prayers for thee.” The mort snorted. “Keep thy prayers! I fancy a groat!”

[Cheeky Actress]

Pass the Copeman’s house and the Mercer Shop Lilly went. Sounds of laughter and music came from the bawdy house upon the tiny little flat.

Through the dirty pane of window, she saw a slender man working at his table. With a deep sigh she approached the door.

With a light rapping upon the physic’s door she made herself known. “I seek one by the name of Croaker?” Lilly spoke softly and continued in her guise of the old hag.

The man looked up from his work and motioned her inside. “Aye, I am Croaker. I am a physic. Let us discourse upon your ailment.” His speech was broken with a thick accent of the northern Scandinavians.

As she walked further into the flat she noticed his appearance in good need of a washing. She looked upon his breeches, which were daggle-tailed. His shirt cuffs soaked with blood and dirt.

“You are far from your native land,” Muttered Lilly. Her eyes met his in a quick glance. He looked down at her for a moment and said nothing. As he turned toward his table he picked up a knife. “Aye, I am far from my home land, ‘tis true.” Lilly watched him as he cut through a piece of cheese.

With another deep cough, Lilly began to speak. “I am not well.” She added.

“I could manage a Mithridate for you? That would set that cough, right.”

She shook her head for a moment. “My ailment is not why I am here. I seek …I seek a word or two of advice.”

With a sigh, Croaker tossed his piece of bread back upon the trencher. “Old woman, if your husband has taken to being a tosspot, I can offer no help. There be enough Quacksalvers here in this port who say they can manage such a thing. If you seek advice there be a price to pay then. I do not give such wise words for free.”

Lilly searched from her pocket a coin. “Is that enough?” She whispered. Croaker took up the coin. “I shall help thee.”

[D.Patrick Burke]

Good company and semi-refined libation had done well to warm the cockles of his soul. Mirth and mayhem balanced precariously as the hours wore on; the grand scale tipping to the former or later then swaying tentatively to even keel. Devon was in midst of telling one of many tales from the Auld Sod; daring do's and near escapes...Somber remembrances of the Boyne laced with toasts of comrades known and fallen to the lusts of "tha' right bastard Willy tha' Orange". Another round was brought to bare; another toast sounded and vessels emptied.

Raising from chair occupied overlong, Devon begged pardon of those present for time and tide waited for no fella. Heartfelt praise was given to all "attending court", hat was replaced and Common navigated giving way to the lane outside. He lingered briefly, giving instinctual survey of surrounds before finding equine companion waiting ever patient within livery comforts. Large dark eyes trained to Irishman's approach, soft nicker issued in greeting and answered with affectionate neck pat.

"How's yer form then, boyo?" Question was asked to the slight fumble of boot finding stirrup. Mount shifted footing and blew butterflys in response as seating was found. "So tell me, am I drivin' home...er should yerself?" Sorrel shook head impatiently; rider chuckled. "Well then....There ye have it...." Devon leaned forward a hair and whispered secretively, "How's bout we take turns, eh?"

[Capt. Sterling]

The small grill in the heavey door, grated on rusted hinges as it opened. Sterling, head bent downward, was not bothered by the light that was cast inward.

"What is it?" a voice called, barely louder than a whisper. It struck Sterling as strange. Since when did guards whisper or slink about their own gaols, constantly looking over their shoulders where their prisoners were concerned? Lilly's words finally struck a cord.

know that there be a man here in Port who seeks you out and he will cozen ye out of your life if ye let him.

Battered head lifted enough for Sterling to glance quickly upward at the small opening.

"If you cannot send me a doctor then I need you to give me some water. Some linen if you can. Please," he said, his own voice barely audible.

There was a long pause on the outside. Sterling forced his body around and allowed it to slide down until he was sitting, his back supported by the door itself.

"I shall see what I can do." The answer came to him, again but a whisper, before the small portal was once again slammed shut and secured.

"Wait!!" Sterling shouted. "The old hag. She will do! At least allow her to return. She said she would come again to help me!"

The portal opened quickly.

"Hold yer tongue!!" the guard hissed. "Or I can do nothing to help you at all!"

[Professor Angus Trilby]

..."Since yea won't hae a choice, let our big friend here watch over yon lassie. Like as not, when the man who tried to kill her finds out he didna succeed, he'll be back tae try again."

Lady Violet nodded and handed the old man a purse full of coins. "Very sensible, I'm sure."

Once his portal was closed firmly and locked, Professor Trilby did a little jig, tossing the bag of coins to hear them jingle, his tattered and burnt robe flying around him like a dirvishe's cape, which caused his servant, Souris, to open his eyes wide in wonder. It also caused the cat, Cleaopatra, to bolt up the stairs. When the dance was done, and after Trilby gave a little whooping laugh of joy, he barked, "Souris, get you to the kitchen and fix us a fine meal. We're celebrating. When its ready, I'll open a bottle of my best Scottish whiskey, and you can join me on the roof terrace."

Souris, too shocked at his employers actions to speak, merely nodded his head and rushed to the kitchen. Relying on what few culinary arts he knew, he soon had a large platter of grilled fish, fresh fruit sweetened with cane, and a few cold biscuits left over from the previous night. He took this banquet up to the roof terrace, where his employer was just pouring a dark amber liquid into two glasses. Souris put down the tray and stepped back, almost tripping over the mounted dog skeleton, which was currently wearing one of Trilbys ratty turbans slouched over one empty eye socket.

"Here, mae lad," Trillby said, shoving one glass at Souris. "This is nae time tae stand on ceremony. Cock an ear, Souris, and tell mae what ye hear."

Souris merely looked confused, and held the glass as if it would bite him.

"That is the sound o' peace and quiet, decending once again on this household. Drink up, boy. Who kens how long it may last."

Souris took a tentative sip, burst into a fit of coughing, dropped the glass, which shattered on the tiles, then he fled in horror back down the stairs.

"Ah, weel," Trilby muttered, while refilling his own glass. "Sae much the more for maeself." Then he made himself comfortable and ate his celebration feast, while Souris, who had returned with a broom, and who kept his eyes downcast, swept up the broken glass.

Cleopatra, unmoved and lying supine on the half-wall, pretended to ignor the strange festivites, but her amber eyes missed nothing. She then decided that grooming her nether parts was more deserving of her attention, and a dainty furred back leg suddenly pointed at the sky.

[Tess St. Claire]

Nervously sitting in her room she peered out the window once again. It had been three days since she had seen or heard from Mistress McKinney. Perhaps she had pushed Mistress McKinney to do the worst thing possible; seeing the father of her child in such a situation.

With another glance Tess saw the street filled the all sorts. There was no sign of a lady in the blue mantua with the flaming red hair. “Tsk” Tess managed to express as she fell back upon her bed.

Perhaps a letter written in a woman’s hand would get some result from the Officer of the Garrison. “But what to write?” She muttered to herself. Tess was still in pursuit of acquiring Mistress McKinney and making sure she was returned to her benefactor, Lord Darnely. Yet, knowing that Captain Sterling was in poor health, Tess feared that Mistress McKinney may not leave that easily.

As she pulled paper and ink from her writing desk, Tess began to formulate a plan…

[D.Patrick Burke]

The gentle forward / backward and side-to-side sway of equine motion set Cork's Native Son in semi-nap state. Brim of well worn hat was tugged forward and down to discourage morning's light from being a nuisence to eyes more accustomed to darkening hours. Lane and by-way intersected and snaked their coursings to points unseen; early day avian sang aurias causing miniscule sneer on rider's features and hat was tugged downward to front a degree more.

As the further reaches of Port boundaries were reached, mount drew to slow halt and cast look overshoulder at burden. Lulling to and fro disapearance brought Devon out of numb; stature in saddle care straightening, brim lifted ever so slightly for surround view. In near distance a regiment of local millitary marched in formation, turning left and dissipating from sight.

"Well now, ain' they jus' a fine collection o' dandy cock robins...." he mused to none in particular before spitting his distaste to the dust below. Sorrel's ears traded swivle betwixt companion and vanishing tread of footstep cadence, no comment issued to support or negate. Adjusting seat, Devon queried with affectionate irritation, " Are ye waitin' fer a carraige, then?" Mount turned an eye to keeper's placement, heavy exhalation giving answer to question. " Well we don' have all day...Tha' bleedin' sun is becomin' a right bastard with its' bright ways."

Nudge was issued and sway began anew drawing into proximity of over familliar garden walls. No notice was taken at first, then recognition crept forward which in turn conjured tug of rein. "Hold yerself, boyo....Ye t'ink I be some glutton fer punishments? As though me own self hasna' a better t'in' to be doin' then be scolded an' ignored again? Jays...."