Port Royal, Jamaica

[Rateye]

"Well that was quite nice." Commented Lilly, as the gentleman rode by.

"I agree." Said Reiley, with a smile. "The start of a good morning."

"Now as I was saying, eventually my father was sent with the rest of his garrison to the colonies. But after months, we still hadn't heard from him. Eventually my mother found work on the London estate of Sir Randall Stevens. As a child, I helped on the estate, but eventually became best of friends with Sir Randall's son... Unfortunately young Richard died of fever when he was only a boy. Though still a servant, Sir Randall somewhat favored me, having been such good friends with his own son. Perhaps it was due to his loss or just a fine act of charity, but I was eventually sent off to a school... Lord knows I needed it."

"That would be where you studies medicine then?" Inquied Lilly.

"Actually my dear, I was a terrible student. They almost had to burn down the building, just so I couldn't come back. However, I've always believed a favor must have been called in, to allow my admittance to the hospital and medical school founded by Thomas Guy in Southwark. It was there that I..."

Suddenly Reiley pulled up on the Reigns and brought the carriage to a stop.

"What is it?" Asked Lilly, she watched the doctor scan the fork in the road ahead.

"Take the reigns." Insisted Reiley, as he jumped from the carriage. "We'll, have us some sport."

"But what do I??" Stammered Lilly.

"Wait just a bit, then let him roll forward til you come to the fork. Stay calm and keep your wits about you. There should be no more than two or three of them." Assured Reiley, as he quickly dissappeared into the brush.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

He straightened, his boots left slumped against the chair legs.  Akwardly he tugged the sheet back into place as he looked at the small lass framed in the doorway.

"Aye Lady? Oui?" he replied.

Aurore concentrated to keep her line of sight focused on Sterling's face, at lack of words. A flurry of movement on window's ledge came as a welcome interruption. The large bird cocked its' head to inspect the interior then hopped to land on the bureau below. A scowl formed on her expression in disaproval before returning her attention to where he continued to adjust the length of bedsheet.

"Pardon monsieur, but I was going to suggest that perhaps you might have desire for a bath to be drawn. I am sure it would prove refreshing after your discomfort of these past hours."

Inwardly she cursed herself for weakness in the moment. What was it that was unsettling her so about this Englishman? It had started with that afternoon at The Three Crowns, when she had accompanied Sabastian there on a matter of buisness. The propritor there had a taste for a specfic brandwine that was hard to come by normally, but hard to come by was not always the case if the price was right.

While she waited for Sabastian's return from private discussion, Sterling had entered and what ensued there after was a blur of moments. Henry Morgan taking the floor, the usual loud clamor of voices as common became even more crowded and the man that now stood before her laid low. Aurore had kept placement in the dark corner as calls for a doctor were pleaded, resisting the urge to come forward and to his aid; the voice of Andre' playing in her mind, "It is none of our concern to become involved if it does not involve us directly." Aurore secretly hated her eldest brother at times for his callousity. But in this foreign land with equally foreign ways, Andre', Sabastian and Christophe were all she had to rely on. Gone were the caravans; gone were the comforts and cruelties of Navarre and France...gone were the rest of her family, victims of predjudice.

Perhaps that was it. Somewhere in her heart of hearts, Aurore believed that by giving aid to Sterling, she might put akward balance to the scales of injustice vs. justice. That was what had run through her young mind initially, but something had changed in the scheme of things and she was unable to place a finger on it. Her normal bold manner seemed to have deserted the field and Sterling's words of anger had ravaged what was normally untouchable. Vulnerabilty was not a good suite for her, one so normally in control and sure of surround...

[Capt. Sterling]

Aurore concentrated to keep her line of sight focused on Sterling's face, at lack of words. A flurry of movement on window's ledge came as a welcome interruption. The large bird cocked its' head to inspect the interior then hopped to land on the bureau below. A scowl formed on her expression in disaproval before returning her attention to where he continued to adjust the length of bedsheet.

"Pardon monsieur, but I was going to suggest that perhaps you might have desire for a bath to be drawn. I am sure it would prove refreshing after your discomfort of these past hours."

At first his eyebrows knit together at her offer and his lips only mouthed the word.."what?" To say it was the last thing he expected.... he raked one hand through his offensive locks. She had a very valid point...

"Ah...."

He had gone from poverty to riches, knighted, a favorite of Queen Mary (although perchance not her husband), back to holes in his pockets, scraping for every coin, or begging Mother Rose for loans. Through it all he had managed to keep his ship afloat.

He had been captured and although eventually ransomed, had not crumbled to the will of those that kept him from his freedom. He believed those three years had actually made him stronger in character, if not in body. He had been successful as a privateer, yes at times maybe not wealthy but he had managed to keep his daughter in silks and monkeys, and the very best of tutors... And his crew had never suffered for want.

And yet, now, when faced by this young woman, he had fumbled every time he opened his mouth. Now he did not know what to say, all he knew is that he wished he could take back all most all of the things he had said to her, but most of all his angry request to return to town. He looked at his breeches and shirt, laying on the floor since they had been so rudely tossed, and hurried over to pick them. When he turned back to look at her, his clothes held behind his back as if he were trying to hide them, she was looking up at him.

"Non," he said, then winced slightly. "I mean.. yes.. BUT, I do not wish to put thee to any trouble...although I could do with ... I must be.. Aye a bath would be a comfort... thank ye..." My God, she had reduced him to a complete buffoon.

Edited January 31, 2009 by Capt. Sterling

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Aurore wore a bemused expression as he fumbled with words and simply nodded in answer. She looked beyond him to where the crow paced mahogony furnishing and made a shooing motion. If quizzical could be produced on avian structure, so it would have ocured and she made the motion again with success. With nimble hop and stroke of noir pinions, the chamber contained only they two once again.

She stole a glance to his face, "I shall have the water heated and the tub brought here, then. It should not take overlong and I assure that it is of no trouble. I do entreat you to rest until all is at ready, though."

Aurore backed two paces, unsure as to what should be said...unsure of what to do.

[Capt. Sterling]

He cleared his throat, rather loudly. "Thank you.. merci," he mumbled. He had watched her, his sight glued on her as she moved to chase the impressive bird from the room. Unlike most women he knew, she showed not the least fear at such an animal suddenly making itself at home in her house. He tried to hide the smile that now tugged at the corner of his lips but couldn't. "Befriend all one eyed helpless creatures then do thee?" he chuckled.

And then he moved to her. Once again he reacted quickly and he accomplished closing the gap between them before he could even think of what he was doing. He looked down at her.

"Lady, Mistress, verily I have made a complete fool of myself this day. I wish I could turn back the clock and correct the errors that have caused thee pain. Mayhaps I could ... stay... a bit longer and make amends?" There he had said.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

"Befriend, monsieur? Muninn has made the choice of befriending, I was simply there at his hour of..." The words intended to complete her statement died before passage of voicing when Aurore realized how near the Englishman had come while she was distracted.

The word "amends" was repeated without sound and what little boldness was still in her sway retreated post haste. She looked fleetingly to his face then to the flooring below, "Monsieur, it was you that wished to leave, not myself...I would prefer that you stay and regain your stregnth."

Aurore remained stock still, her single movement only that of slying another fleet look to his face then away again.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Thank thee then Lady," he said. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. A gentle kiss, a small token of his gratefulness. "I do not deserve a second chance but I am all too pleased that thee are kind enough to allow me thus. I hope, given time, I can show thee I am not the complete oaf...perhaps, God willing, I may even make thee proud of knowing me."

He allowed her hand to drop gently to her side. He had said his piece, made his apologies and had been, somewhat, forgiven... he should have felt relieved. He should have heaved a comfortable sigh, he did sense a glimmer of hope, and yet he still mainly felt tense and he was almost frightened to open his mouth to say more. He turned away from her, placing his garments on the foot of the bed, tugging the sheet once more as tightly about him as he could.

"I suppose I should allow the poor girl to come and change the linens as well," he said. "I fear I may have terrorized her with my behaviour."

He looked over his shoulder at the lady. "If I may be bold and ask for something to eat to break my fast.. perchance I may be even bolder to ask thee to join me? and perhaps that book?"

Edited January 31, 2009 by Capt. Sterling

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The brush of his lips were as gentle as butterfly liting briefly and she could do nothing more than allow appendage manipulation as if her actions were at his command. As he turned from her, ability to breath seemed to reappear as if miracle granted by divine providance. With his back facing her, Aurore was unable to resist the opportunity to appraise his form semi-hidden in linen shroud.

Noticing Sterling's movement for over shoulder view, she dropped her eyes swiftly, " I shall attend to your requests immediately, monsieur."

The doorway seemed a thousand leagues away...

[Capt. Sterling]

“What is it?” Sterling asked as she seemed to hesitate. A sudden fear seized him. This was not his first bout with this particular illness, surely she could not have contracted anything from him. “What is it Lady?” he asked, returning close to her side. He dared to touch her again, his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face to his. “My care has exhausted thee, has it not?” he asked. “Mayhaps I should let thee go to thine own bed and rest as well.”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She was adjusting to his voluntary acts of nearness, but his touch was unexpected. It was not exhaustion that harried her senses, as a daughter of the Free Folk one learned to sustain rest in strange intervals and little went a long way. How could she explain to him what she could not reason out to herself and the sincerity of his concern added to the dizzying effect already initiated by the smallish distance that seperated them.

Aurore dared to hold Sterling's gaze, resisted the instinct to bolt which had shown itself in not to distant past. Reaching upward, she lay her right hand hesitantly on his extended arm and spoke just above whisper, " Non...I am fine, truly. I had best see to your bath and meal."

Like two horses tethered together and wishing for opposit headings, her mind and conscience raced....One wishing hasty retreat, the other wishing to remain exactly as she was.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Good then," he said, his voice suddenly catching. He thought to stab a finger inside his cravat and tug it lose but he was not wearing one. He made himself to swallow, trying to alleviate the tightness in his throat. He was all to aware of her hand upon his arm, like fire far warmer than any fever. "Glad am I of this," his voice barely a whisper. He was the first to move, his fingers, beneath her chin, slipped gently from their place and smoothed along her jaw to her cheek. His heart began to gallop frantically as he looked down at her. She did not move and so, he leaned to her and kissed her.

Edited January 31, 2009 by Capt. Sterling

[Rateye]

The outlaw was a somewhat large and heavy set man, who wore clothes that were just a bit too small and far from flattering. He was waiting just out of site and cursing the weather from the night before, which had drenched him from head to toe.

“How’s it going Swilly?” Said a voice from behind, as the tip of a gun barrel nudged into his back.

“That you Rats?” asked the outlaw, recognizing the voice as he raised his hands.

“Aye…” answered Reiley. “And who else you got working today?”

“No one…” the outlaw sheepishly replied, until another poke from Reily's gun barrel jogged his memory.

“Danny Boyle and Jonathan Morehouse.” The outlaw quickly answered.

“Put your hands down, you look silly." Ordered Reiley. "Now why the hell would you and Boyle throw in with the likes of Jonathan Morehouse?” Questioned Reiley.

“We didn’t have much of a choice.” Replied the outlaw, as he turned and pointed to a long rigid scar from his ear to the tip of his chin. “Bastard even takes half of everything we make.”

Patrick Swilly was a bear of a man, with very little common sense and a horrible mouth of rotten teeth. He was a silly, stupid man who (like Reiley) would do almost anything for a friend. However, Reiley had always felt sorry for the big fellow and regardless of the circumstance, had always tried to help the man out. But he was also familiar with Jonathan Morehouse and his willingness to spill blood at a moments notice.

“Well then mate, if that's the case then... What if things were to change for the better?” Grinned Reiley.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Aurore flinched slightly as his fingers traced the finite angle of her jawline, but no further resistance was offered as they stopped on the defined ridge of cheek. With the contact of his lips, borders regarding tradition melted and fell into oblivion. She moved closer until the only thing that lay as separation betwixt them was that of linen and cotton.

Eternity could be measured in an interlude such as this, the defining of kingdoms or title held no sway in comparrison.

They parted wordless to the culimation of thoughts blended and given form. In one blinding event, wheels would be set into motion and she held no fear to consequence.

[Capt. Sterling]

For the first time that morning, he felt he had done something for which he need not apologize but as they parted he was forced to check himself. It would be all to easy to carry her the short distance to the bed behind him, all too easy to couple with her. He thought better of it, tried to quiet the urges inside him. One would think with his illness, such needs would be nearly forgotten. He closed his eyes, recalling the softness of her mouth, her body pressing close to his of her own accord. Damn him! He moved to her again, took her once more with his mouth then picked her up...

[Rateye]

"I swear, I'll kill him!" thought Lilly; as she listened to the two outlaws go about their challenge and demands.

She quickly played to their threats. Allowing their approach and buying Reiley more time.

"Well if you have nothing of value...” Insisted one of the outlaws. “Then maybe there's something else of yours that I’ll have to take.”

“Top of the morning lads!” Interrupted Reiley, as he appeared from out of the brush. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

As the two outlaws turned to find Reiley with pistols drawn, Lilly quickly drew a short carbine from behind the seat.

“Been a long time Danny Boyle! Offered Reiley. “How goes it?”

“I’ve been…. Better?” answered Boyle, as he looked from Reiley to Lilly and realized his advantage had quickly changed.

“Sorry to hear that mate. But the truth be known… That lady and I have business. So if the two of you step aside, we’ll be glad to…”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that FRIEND.” sneered Morehouse, as he continued to point his pistol at Mistress Lilly. “You see we’ve been out here all morning and most of the night and unfortunately for you, we have nothing to show… But something tells me that wagon has to have something of value or else you wouldn’t be in such a hurry. So I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere. Wouldn’t you agree SWILLY?!”

As the outlaw spoke his name, Swilly slowly plodded his way out to the road where he casually stood next to Reiley.

The look on Jonathan Morehouse’s face was priceless.

“What the devil is this!” demanded Morehouse, as he realized Swilly wasn’t about to maim or otherwise murder Reiley.

“He made me a better offer, you arrogant little prick!” Smiled Swilly, as he bared a mouth full of nicely rotten teeth.

“As for you Danny Boyle,” Added Reiley, “We have no quarrel. But if you side with this jackobite, I’ll kill you sure. But I think you know as well as I, that I’d rather not… The choice is yours.”

As the tension continued to mount, all eyes darted from barrel to barrel, each wondering who would make the first move.

“Alright… You win!” Smiled Boyle, as he put his pistol away.

Morehouse was almost speechless.

“W-w-What are you doing?!” Demanded the outlaw.

“Truth be know mate,” Grinned Boyle, as he dismounted his horse and walked it out of the line of fire. “You’re a rotten back stabbing bastard. And I’ve been waiting for a chance to kill you myself. Unfortunately I just hadn’t gotten around to it. No offense mate, just business.”

After a moment and with a seething hesitation, Morehouse lowered the hammer on his pistol and slowly slid the pistol into his belt.

As he turned his horse to ride away, he stared visciously at Reiley and spoke.

“If I ever see you again Rats O’Riley, I will kill you…”

“Well then you better hope that I don’t see you first.” Replied Reiley, as he watched the outlaw start to ride away. “But until then, a good day to you just the same!”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She met his reclaim of want with greed and made no objection as the flooring gave way to air and arm support. For a fleeting moment old fears rose triggering warning, then were quickly vanquished. The whims of the outside world no longer controlled her conscience or actions. Aurore felt the soft give of overstuffed surface as if it were an after thought.

What would be, would be... and as he hovered above, she smiled predatory showing and pulled him down to claim what he had moments before.

[Capt. Sterling]

He moved over her, hands stirring clothing to bare flesh, the linen covering, once so necessary now forgotten, pooled upon the floor. Her willingness only fueling his want of her, his fingers savoring along soft inner thigh. He felt himself groan with his need.

He kissed her again, as he moved himself to take her, complete, his body melting into hers.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She melded to him, a tangle of limbs as the heat betwixt them rivaled the innermost ring of Hades itself. Firey bird called pheonix rose from the ashes with the conjure of passion unbridled, rising to unseen but lofty heigths and expanding until uncontainable; only to expire into the realm of La Petit Mort.

[Capt. Sterling]

Spent, the hunger behind Sterling's kisses became affectionate as he continued to move his lips tenderly about her face. When he turned over onto his back, he held out his arm and was content to see her still willing to lay herself within his embrace.

"Am I forgiven then?" he whispered as she lay her head against his chest, his tone gently teasing.

She did not speak words, still her 'mmm' as she snuggled even closer, her leg moving over his possessively, told him all he needed to know. He could not help but hug her and press one final kiss to her soft hair.

He closed his eyes, his fever up again, and passed the back of his free hand over his forehead.

"Mayhaps it would be best we rest a bit," he said but she had already drifted off to slumber. It did not take him long to follow.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Sabastian casually observed the activities taking place on either side of dirt road in the fields. It was a sight he had grown accustomed to in the past five years of residence, but not one that was totally acceptable in his mind. Forced servitude was an irksome subject even in its most respectable guise, a issue that was extreme polar opposit to the Ways and Traditions. Fortunately, the lands that the road currently dissected belonged to a man that gave fair treatment and some form of respect to those he owned. Overseers were not allowed undue abuse, and the workers that became too elderly for the harsh field conditions were provided for, the sickly tended to.

A disturbance of reddish hue against field's earthy palet drew Sabastian's attention and the cheval noir was reigned to halt. The flow of calicos were as unmistakable as the slight form they clothed, and as the figure crossed the field intently toward where he waited. The men set upon daily tasks would pause as the figure passed in respect, giving tribute to one of their number, but set apart. Off to the far right, the present group's supervisor made no effort to hinder passage, but gave a call of morning to which one was returned.

A knowing smile played Sabastian's aquilin face as the individual loomed nearer with purpose and he dismounted. The eloquant chapeau was doffed with the space between dissipated, "Mademoiselle Papillon, you are symphony in motion and I cannot think of any masterpiece that could rival your perfection. There are court beauties the world over jealous that they will never be but a shadow to your grace and..."

The young mulato woman planted her small hands upon curviture of hips,

"You save tha' nonsense for dem be willin' to buy into it, 'Bastian. I's not be so gullable to your silver forked tongue, boy."

He stepped closer, visually caressing the toffee perfection of her face,

"But mademoiselle...for you, I only speak truths."

Her laughter was likened to the small bells adorning mount's tack and she fixed him with a speculative look, " You go on, boy...Dat tongue of yours gon' get you in deep some day."

He clutched his chest in mock fear, causing another ring of laughter from her in response. "Ol' Scratch got his eye on you an' gotta special place reserved down in de hot place wi' you name on it." She chidded. "You listen now, got no time for all dis playin'. Momma Rose send me here to you. She say you would be along bout now an' to bring you back."

Sabastian stood a bit straighter at the name's mention and the statement following, all the humor draining from his face. He had learned long ago that if the old Vodoun woman summoned it was best to attend. Current errand would have to wait he thought, as a quick glance was given to oringinal direction of travel.

Remounting he leaned sidewise, offering a hand and settled her just afore him. Papillon's nearness was an intoxicating mixture of exotic scent and warmth, a distraction hard to ignore. Nevertheless, some things were best left alone...like tigers that slept in faux innocent repose. With one arm wrapped around her slender form, Sabastian applied light touch to the Noir's girth and changed original heading to recross the field Toffee Butterfly had just travelled.

[Capt. Sterling]

Symms ran, the note gripped tightly in his hand, which, to insure its safety, he had plunged deep into his coat pocket. He made the Nag’s Head Inn as quickly as his old legs could carry him. Them that were able spent the remainder of the day before scouring the docks, homes, businesses and just about every possible whore’s bed in the town, but it was as if Sterling had simply vanished from the busy port.

By the time he burst into the gathering room of the inn, his tired lungs were burning with their effort. He doubled over, hands resting upon knees as he tried to catch his breath. He did not go unnoticed. Andrew March, Hazzards, the tired midshipmen who yawned and did not try to hide their sleepiness, as well as the current officer of the watch looked up as the steward made his entrance.

Mr. Hazzards was the first to straighten from the map laid out upon a small, rickety table, announcing the name of the old man.

“Symms!”

Others then straightened, Skittles, until now sitting quietly in a close corner, was the first to reach him and put a comforting hand upon his shoulders.

“What tis it Mr. Symms?” her sing-song accent always pleasing to the ear even when all had almost reached their breaking point.

Still the old steward could not suck enough oxygen into his lungs. He straightened a bit and handed Mistress March the letter that had been delivered to him by a young boy. “He’s alive!” he managed to put forth as Skittles took the letter to her husband, reading it along her way.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

If Aurore embodied beauty and temperance; Sabastian, cunning and diplomacy; then it could have well been said that Andre' was strength and tenaciousness. The eldest of Le Cour des Grand Corbeau did not share the slender form and aquiline features of the younger two. He was stout and broad of shoulder, just as their sire had been; not tall, for he was normal for his bloodline. His movements were of a slower nature, as if every action were given calculation before being initiated. Andre' was not the portrait of feline fluidity, one would be more apt to say that he was likened to an alligator laborously moving from point A to B. But in that same comparrison, said squat reptile is also known for rapid burst of startling speed and temper when aroused. Such was the Eldest, so day and night to the Youngers.

As events unfurled unbeknownst to him, Andre' had kept steadfast eye to the affaires which provided their comfort. Things were following well according to plans and agreements newly placed into motion or having been so in the past. The evening before spent diligently purusing records of things obtained and things dispatched; be they tangible or otherwise. Buisness had proven a very prosperous affaire of late, and the Eldest was spending more time in town than at the cottage.

The goings on of Port Royal had been a bit more lively in the last passing of days and relying on Sabastian to stay attentive to it all was futile. As much as Andre' wished it were not a truth, the younger brother had fallen further and further from the ways passed down generation to generation. What pained him more was Sabastian's influences on Aurore and how she too was drifting away from the docterines.

The chamber above bookseller was near quiet as a tomb and had remained as such while Andre' awaited time for next appointment. It was without hesitation the disdane he felt for those he delt with. Upper classes of men that would have spit on he and siblings if not worse, had they continued their lives as parents had. Now Le Cour was catered to and if any slight in regard to heritage was ever given thought, it would assuradly never be voiced. Men of power had vices and weakness, the Devareauxs profited from both.

The Eldest paused in his readiment for departure to the plantation home owned by local aristo. There seemed to be much flurry in the past four and twenty hours regarding a recently arrived captain that had gone missing. He recalled the name and some relation to another recently arrived, as well.

It was not the well being of the missing that piqued his interests, nor those in search of the man in question. No, Andre' contemplated possible profit that could be made if he focused intents to such a looking into. Another fleecing of wealth from the Gadje was always a satisfactory venture.

[Capt. Sterling]

The Archangel's first officer was normally a patient man, but as March's wife came closer he could not help but snatch the letter from her care. He quickly positioned himself and letter so that both Hazzards and the officer of the watch could read over his shoulder.

"Interesting," the officer remarked as he backed away when finished.

He turned and looked upon the old steward who was slowly making his way toward the group of others, one hand pressed to his still heaving chest.

"Does not say as to where or who has taken Captain Sterling under their protection and care. Who delivered this?" the officer said, pointing at the paper in March's hand. All heads turned, nearly in unison to look at Symms. The old man placed himself next to the first officer and moved his hand from chest to table top to prop himself up.

"A lad," Symms replied. He gave his head a nod toward the two midshipmen. "He could no be any older than Mr. Merriweather the elder there. Ifin I had known, his name I would have been askin. "

"Do ye think ye could be pointing this boy out to us Josiah?" March asked, his gaze steady on the older man.

"Ifin I saw him again, I might. Hard to say though. Many a rascal the likes of him about the streets. Still and all, at least the Captain be safe," Symms said, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

Andrew March looked over the letter again, turning it over in his hand.

"One can only pray," he said.

[Rateye]

After the outlaw had ridden away, Lilly suddenly found herself in the midst of a very strange reunion.

“So how the hell are you rotten bastard!” yelled Boyle, as he tugged at Reiley’s new jacket. “He sure cleans up good doesn’t he now?”

“Excuse me, Dr. Reiley. Interrupted Lilly. “But shouldn’t we be on our way?”

“Where are my manners!” sighed Reiley. “Lads, let me introduce Mistress Lilly McKinney. Mistress McKinney, let me present Master Patrick Swilly and Sir David Boyle… Two fellow business associates from past ventures.”

“Pleased to meet you m-lady!” offered Boyle as he performed an exaggerated salutation, then nudged Swilly to do the same. “Please don’t think ill of us for earlier, I meant nothing personal.”

“Oh, not at all…” Replied Lilly, with a forced smile.

“So what brings you out this way?” Asked Boyle.

“Yeah, what brings you out here…?” Mimicked Swilly.

“We’re looking for a gentleman that may have been along this way.” Answered Reiley.

“Perhaps you’ve seen him?” interrupted Lilly. “He’s tall, well dressed and…”

“And he’s not necessarily in the best of health. Added Riley, as he looked toward Lilly. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

As the two outlaws looked to each other, it was obvious they had seen the captain.

“He passed by us a day or so back.” said Boyle. “We were going to stop him, but he shot past us like the devil before we could make a go of it. He was headed into the estate just over the ridge. But I don’t know if you want to be going in there. They don’t welcome strangers.”

“Well they’ll welcome us soon enough.” Insisted Lilly. “Doctor Riley, we need to be off!”

[Capt. Sterling]

With letter in keeping, plans were laid before the group. The officer of the watch offered to split his forces, several men to remain in town with Symms. They would make their way about the streets, stopping first at taverns and inns that might make use of young imps to run messages. As to the rest..

"Well since we have looked into almost every bed in town," the gentleman began. "I think it best we move farther from the port and make our way out to the plantations. I would say he could go missing there for days, but thanks to our note, we know someone has him."

The gentleman looked briefly over his shoulder at Skittles who was now offering a drink to the old steward. He moved a step away and indicated that he wished the officers to join with him.

"The lack of information as to who has been so kind as to take in your captain ...." he paused a moment in contemplation. "There are those on this island that could think to turn a profit by withholding such things of import. I must confess tis concerned I am that there is no rescuer's name within your letter. He is either not well off, and there was such alarm with them that have consented to provide his care, that, in such a state as they may have been, they neglected to include such matters, or," the officer's eyebrows rose slightly in suprised thought. "Or such information was neglected for a reason. Certainly," he added looking from Mr. March to Mr. Hazzards, "certainly if he were well enough and not being retained somewhere against his will, he would have made his way back by now?"

"Aye," March agreed. "Tis not like Captain Sterling to just up and disappear. Aside from the fact of his poor health, his present line of thought was fixed upon the Archangel's refit and the obtaining of letters of Marque. He would not go off without informing at least Mr. Symms, not if he were in his right mind."

"Well then, perhaps you could gather up a few more members of your crew and we shall move our search out to the sugar fields," the officer of the watch suggested.

"Aye, give me an hour to enlist me men and we shall meet ye out at the The Shipp's," March said. The officer consented with a nod of his head, bowed to Andrew March and then Skittles and he and his companions made their way to collect more of their own as well.

March made his way to his wife's side and looked down at Symms.

"Well Josiah, as soon as the watchmen come to assist you, find that boy."

The old man nodded in agreement. March kissed Skittles on the cheek.

"Keep yerself to the Captain's rooms, Mistress March. If they were sending one note, perhaps there may be another," the first officer advised.

"Ja," Skittles answered. "I wish thee well Master March."

Andrew March forced a smile. "We shall find him as quickly as we can."

He turned, his hand coming to rest upon the hilt of his sword.

"Mr. Merriweather!"

Both midshipmen leapt to their feet.

"Younger," March added. "See to Michael and fetch him here now."

The smaller boy's face fell. "By myself sir?"

"Aye Mr. Merriweather. By yerself," March replied.

The boy sighed and could not help but roll his eyes as his elder brother stifled a sniggering sound.

"Aye Mr. March, but it will be more like Michael fetching me," he commented. "And dragging me the entire way!"