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Port Royal, Jamaica


sirhenrymorgan

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Aurore's expression pinched briefly with concern as Sorrel left four hoof placement for two, but smile soon returned. Christophe gave nothing more than curt nod of acknowlegement and eased the Bay sideways to accommodate Sterling's proximity to the carriage.

They had not been parted from each other's company overlong in the scheme of time's movement, but for her it had seemed an eternity without end. Working hard to bury what she felt inwardly, Aurore concentrated on showing proper composure to the outside world. As Old Tucker aligned with the carriage, she resisted reaching out to brush Sterling's near hand resting on thigh.

Aurore had no previous knowledge of the emotions that whirled her being, but she was becoming accustomed and aclimated little by little. Though the thought occured to her; that if he were to dissapear tomorrow, the world would no longer hold the same meaning as it had before.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Lilly took a deep sigh. "I have no money for what evidence you claim you have. All I can ask it that if you meet up with Killingsworth...kill him yourself!"

I thought about Mistress Mckinney's story. Its complications were manifest. Yes, the monogramed handerchief would incriminate Mr. Killingsworth, but it would not call off Lord Darnley, who would no doubt send another to take Killingsworth's place. But it might buy her time to plan, or escape, whichever she preferred.

As to killing the man myself, that could be entertaining, but would not suit my plans at all. I did not want attention drawn to me or my ship. However, blackmailing him could prove profitable, if done with care. That would take some thought. If Darnley had hired him, then the man was an expert at his craft, both of writing and of killing. I did wonder at just what Darnely thought to gain by having the actress returned to him. Surely he had already replaced her with another. Men of his ilk and money were seldom without female companionship. And, if he had invested money in her, what was that? He'd probably lost more to betting on horses or playing cards.

I looked at the actress's distraught face. "Mistress Mckinney, Does Darnley know of your child back in England? Is there any chance Darnley would cause it harm, or abduct the child and use it as leverage to bring you back to him? If not, then I confess, I do not see why Darnley would insist on dragging you back to England. Is it a matter of pride? Or simply the abrupt manner of your departure?"

She watched me through grief-stricken eyes. It was clear to me that between Darnley, Killingsworth, and the emotinal tangle with Captain Sterling, the lady was close to making herself ill. After a moments more thought, I decided I did not want the trouble blackmaiing Killingsworth would bring me.

"Mistress, I will tell you what I posses, and you can tell me if it would help your cause or not. In the strongbox on board the Rakehell is a handkerchief with Killingsworth's monogram in one corner. This handerchief is a lovely bit of fine linen and French lace. Unfortunately, it is quite stained with poor Molly's blood. I found it at the foot of the back stairs, at the Shipp Tavern."

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

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“Of course. Thank ye Mr. Symms…Oh and Symms see to the gentleman in the doorway. Give him a bottle of the Madeira… the better Malmsy if ye please. Come along lad, what have ye for me?” Sterling asked collapsing on the bed with a heavy sigh.

Ioan had followed the distracted Captain, and was still puzzled by the man's strange behavior. What letter could be worth storming the post at near dawn? What type of letter could warrent such initial joy, then horror? Ioan filed the information away for possible future use.

As he continued to follow the Captain, for what lingering reason on his part he couldn't quite fathom, the man's actions became stranger still. Once back at his lodgings, and fobbed off with a bottle of wine, Ioan decided to continue to follow the Captain, expecially after the second message of the evening was delivered and the Captain's demeanor changed again—going from utter dejection, to jubilation. Was the man deranged in his mind? It seemed so.

With a shrug he took the offered bottle, descended the stairs and waited in the lessening darkness for the man to come down. A horse was brought round, and Sterling mounted, then pulled the messenger boy up behind him and trotted off. Ioan, still not sure why he bothered, jogged after them. He was in time to see Captain Sterling approach a covered coach, guarded by an outrider on a fine big bay. As Sterling pulled his horse up alongside, Ioan couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught a glimpse of a feminine hand reach tentatively from the coach window, but withdraw before touching the Captain's leg.

"Well," he thought, "what have we here?"

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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"Mistress Mckinney, Does Darnley know of your child back in England? Is there any chance Darnley would cause it harm, or abduct the child and use it as leverage to bring you back to him? If not, then I confess, I do not see why Darnley would insist on dragging you back to England. Is it a matter of pride? Or simply the abrupt manner of your departure?"

Lilly's face turned white. "He knows nothing of my child. I have kept it under keep for some time. I know that he is safe. The Emperess knew that I was with child about the time Captain Sterling left for Port Royal several months before I gave birth. During her absence to the north country, I took myself to East Middleland and was befriended by a farmer and his wife. It was there I gave birth and hid the child. When the Emperess returned she was told that the babe died hours after birth. No one other than myself and the now you, know the whole story.

Killingsworth is not a man. He is the Devil incarnate and Darnly is just as worse! No man cares little for his fellow man then he does. I've watched him when he was in the company of Squire Darnly. He knows that I've watched him and do not trust him.

"You ask why Darnly is so determine to have me back with him in England?" Lilly drew a breath, closed her eyes then slowly opened them. "Darnly hates the fact that I fell in love with Captain Sterling instead of him. Now that I bore the Captain a child, it is a slap in the face for Darnly." She closed her eyes once more as the tears fell upon her cheeks. As she opened her eyes, she swallowed hard. "Squire Darnly is Captain Sterling's half brother."

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"Mistress, I will tell you what I posses, and you can tell me if it would help your cause or not. In the strongbox on board the Rakehell is a handkerchief with Killingsworth's monogram in one corner. This handerchief is a lovely bit of fine linen and French lace. Unfortunately, it is quite stained with poor Molly's blood. I found it at the foot of the back stairs, at the Shipp Tavern."

Wiping her tears Lilly looked surprised at such news. "You are sure that it belongs to Killingsworth?" Then she suddenly went silent.

"You are in grave danger Ransom. Let no one know of this item. He always makes sure he tends to his 'business'. If he were to find out that such a thing was lost...you, my dear, would be at the mercy of his own knife. Pray, if you do not bring him to the proper authorities soon, I fear that he will do something dreadful. If not to me, to anyone who is closest to me." Lilly reached out her hand and took Ransom's in hers. "May I tell you what to do with it?" She said drawing near. "Burn it and forget that you ever saw my face!"

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I sat back and blew out a breath. "So, it is a matter of blood. That changes things. Yet, you say Darnley knows nothing of the boy. What of Sterling? Have you told him? Surely he, as the child's father, would come to your aid? Darnley would not stoop so low as to harm or kill his own half-brother?

I decided Killingsworth was the least of her problems if she was caught in a blood fued between brothers. Even if they were only half-brothers. Yet, the piece of evidence could still be useful. Killingsworth may or may not know if its loss, as yet. And even if he did, he could not know where he had lost it, or who might have found it.

"Mistress, I have great sympathy for your problem, but unless you allow Sterling to help you, I fear you will have no peace, wherever you go. There has to be a way to end the cat and mouse game, if only for your child's sake. You say you have refused the Captains offer of marriage, yet that may be your only avenue of safety."

I rose from the chair. "Think on it, Mistress. I will hold the evidence safe. You can contact me on board the Rakehell, if you need." I smiled. "I fear I must be weak in my mind to put myself in your path again, and with no money to pay me for my trouble. But...let us just say, I know of family strife, and how...damaging it can be to ones life."

I gave her a slight bow, and, leaving the puzzled guard behind scratching his head, returned to the street. Foremost on my mind was, should I deal with Killingsworth—or make sail for the colonies instead? The next few days would tell.

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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In a sobering walk down towards the other side of town, a crowd gathered to give respect to the murdered barmaid. Killingsworth walked slowly, immersing himself within the wide of human bodies moving towards the gates. He slowly moved in a mourner’s pace. What drew him there? Was it the act of morbid curiosity that got the better of him? The crowd’s murmurs and whispers filled his ears. His eyes darted back and forth as he searched the crowd for the tall foreign man, her lover. Yet, he did not see him, there within the crowd. Death held a special power over him. He did not fear it. He controlled it. He felt himself make a fits with his right hand. The warmth of the blood turned his palm hot. A woman with a small boy passed him just then as they made their way into the crowd. It was an image that struck a cord at the moment. The smell of damp rotting wool made his tense. There in his mind’s eye he can only see the image of his mother, bleeding to death from being raped by the rebel soldiers. The image shook him hard. His breathing became short and his heart held fast into his throat. He could feel the sweat gather upon his brow. It was then he reached for his handkerchief. As he fumbled in his vest pocket he suddenly realized it was gone.

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Allow me to be frank at the commencement; You will not like me...™

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Making his way to the Sugar Loaf, Reiley continued to take in the morning. Though he was still sore from the adjustment given by the good Doctor Easter, Reiley felt as if he could actually breath without difficulty.

Though he had always been warned about the false applications of “Dog Leechers” and “Bone Setters”, having the technique performed by a surgeon, perhaps meant the treatment was justified and thereby useful??

“Not to bother”, Reiley decided, as he suddenly took in the aroma of freshly baked bread…. “And ham!” He realized, as he intentionally crossed the street to give notice to a young merchant woman.

However as he exchanged smiles with the young lady, Reiley noticed a young sprat that had uncreatively ducked behind a nearby wagon.

The youth was not dressed like and therefore was not the typical street urchin. For if he had, he would have surely known how to properly shadow a mark. No, it was obvious by the slops and haphazard dress, the youth was sent from the Archangel.

As Reiley eventually ducked into the Sugar Loaf, he quickly made his way through the kitchen and out the back of the building. In the alley on the side of the café, Reiley found the young man peering around the corner.

“I hardly need a nurse maid…” interrupted Reiley, as the young man let out an unexpected cry.

“Easy lad…” assured Reiley, “You’ll give yer self the drips.”

“Mr. Reiley, sir,” announced the young man, as he caught his breath. “M-master Hazzards assigned me, I mean... He sent me ta keep a eye on you… He said you might be needing some ‘elp stayn’ out-a trouble… Sir.”

“Did he now...” Frowned Reiley, in a false show of disapproval.

“Well then Mr…?”

“Davis…” replied the young man, still trying to compose himself.

“Very well then Mr. Davis. You should do exactly what you’ve been ordered... However young man, I think it would be difficult for you to insure my protection from across the street…. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes sir...?” Agreed Davis, unsure of Reiley’s point.

“Good! And since we’re both in agreement, I trust you’re hungry?” Offered Reiley, as he let a grin appear.

“Starving sir.” Answered the young Mr. Davis, also allowing a smile to appear.

“Good!” replied Reiley. “Then let’s eat… Because if I’m not mistaken Mr. Davis, there’s fresh bread and ham inside.”

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Seth Childermass' lank form wove the human tide, coming to rest in morning shade cast by The Old Church's western wall. The hour was far earlier than could be called habit, but adaptability in times of need was not a foreign concept. How many times had cannon fire rousted him from barely captured sleep in how many lands...It was a subject he had long given up tracking.

He had passed Christophe and the carriage to obtain the area now occupied; casually trading secretive glances. The throng of humanity seemed to choke most available space, news traveled fast in harbour town. Childermass gazed towards the break of land and sea from the umbra of wool brim. There in near distance was the appointed spot and there all would be clarified in full.

Someone had overstepped the bounds; someone was going to learn that there existed unvoiced and unwritten laws never ment for challenge.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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When he did not find the handkerchief, he panicked, at first. His mind raced, wondering where he could have left it...still in his room? with the bloodied clothes that he had already dealt with? Lost? He sniffed. It did not matter...RK could be the initials of so many others and with Darnely to back him who would be able to pull him down? His panic returned with his last thought. Darnely himself would do the honors of cutting the legs out from beneath him, himself, if he did not soon find the McKinney woman. He had begun to grow concerned at first, but his suspicions had proven correct and she was indeed in Jamaica....he only had to draw her out, lay hold of her and cart her home. Perhaps his return journey would prove.... entertaining he thought to himself... let her try and prove he had done her any harm.... He had pondered what bait to use to bring her into the open and it had not been until her lover had so conveniently showed himself in the pub Killingsworth had made himself scarce in last evening. He had not been recognized by the captain, in fact, Sterling had been in no condition to recognize anyone. All too easy, Killingsworth mused. He had simply followed the man and the younger fellow who had attached himself to the Archangel's captain. Neither had been the wiser. Fools! Idiots! All too easy. And here was the man, a prime target, except for the young boy he had just lifted up behind the saddle. Oh well Killingsworth thought, things don't always go as planned. He raised his pistol, already cocked and ready and took aim. All too easy, he would explain, he had just killed the man who had murdered the well beloved Molly.... and Darnely would protect him, would back him, would turn him into a hero, especially when the news reached McKinney's ears and she came out to see the foul act that had been committed. All too easy and he pulled the trigger.

The pistol barked loudly but was still almost lost in the din. The crowd around hardly taking any notice until the small boy pitched forward. Grazed by the ball, Jason fell from the horse. Oh well Killingsworth thought, but then no one asked him to be in the way. He took no further notice of the boy but lowered his pistol and watched the figure in black. At first the victim lurched forward in the saddle, but muscles well trained in the art of riding, automatically forced the figure to regain his proper seat. Killingsworth smiled to himself as the man in black stiffened suddenly and turned his head to look to the man on the bay. Killingsworth always thrilled to see that same old expression of disbelief on his marks' faces. It was all too priceless a moment to him then when Sterling turned once more and looked at the lady in the carriage before he toppled from his mount. It was interesting to Killingsworth to note how the figure in black, due to the mass of bodies surrounding the carriage seemed to float upon the heads and shoulders of those on foot. It was several seconds before Sterling actually came to rest upon the earth. Dropping the pistol in the crowd, Killingsworth pressed forward for a better look as people finally began to understand what had happened. He made his way close enough and saw the man, his face white save for the bright red trickle that began to run from his nose and the corner of his mouth. The man on the bay had dismounted and finally with a scream from inside the carriage, chaos had erupted. Today would be a good day after all....

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Allow me to be frank at the commencement; You will not like me...™

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Spent powder hung the air with acrid scent, presence enshrouding its conjurer like soot aura. Childermass had observed action from waiting post, the interloper's audacity of bold intention noted. It was the loud bark of pistol that had drawn Seth's focus from tranquil water view and the events that followed forced leave of Church wall.

Keeping transgresser in sight, he deftly navigated the mob then paused at arm's legnth as the other joined the gawk of onlookers. Childermass was not familliar with who the man was afore him, and at this point, it did not matter. The simple act of fireing upon carriage proxy was enough

for him to intercede. What snowballed in cap and ball wake played to his senses as if half viewed for the only thing that carried any weight at the momment was his intended mark.

Christophe had dismounted swiftly, landing with soft footed grace upon High Street surface. The slate hued sights carefully inspected Sterling's condition while Delaney loaded Jason into the carriage. Aurore's scream pierced the thrum which had reached higher degree of aggitation. Without further thought, he and Delaney quickly moved Sterling from the stone surface support to the safety of carriage interior. The door was secured and Driver's seat regained, the crack of whip split the air followed by gruff threats and the Grays bullied their way into human stream.

As Frenchman aquired Bay seating, he cast a quick survey to the surround and noticed Childermass amongst the many. There was no time to pause for question, main concerns lay within the vehicle forcing its' way upstream. But as the Bay was goaded forward, peripheral view caught the closing movement betwixt semi-brethren and unknown other.

" 'Ave a taste for coward's way, eh pidgeon?" The words were delivered in icey tone to Killingsworth's ear just before the heavy blow landed taking away conscious awareness.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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He could not fathom what had happened... all he knew was that he was drowning but he could not tell why. He could tell he was being moved, bundled off some place and yet the pain that coarsed through him was almost as unbearable as his need for air. His first thoughts were of Sarah. Would he never see her again? But he knew he had nothing to fear, despite The Empress's current opinion of him, Sterling knew Cate would never abandon the child.

He cried out as the forward movement of the carriage shook him to the bone. His thoughts quickly turning to a prayer of safe keeping for his crewe. Then his mind raced with the memories of those he had hurt in his life time, them that he had failed and never truly meant to harm. His eyes filled with tears. Strangely he could not remember the last time he had cried but now, he only could only feel regret at the harm he had done. As a tear ran down the side of his face he could only whisper..."I am so very sorry..." and then he closed his eyes.


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

http://jcsterlingcptarchang.wix.com/creweofthearchangel#

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"With me mum gone and no-where's to fall," Continued Davis, as he greedily dumped more food into his mouth as if he was starving. "I be given 'is job board de Archangel."

Reiley could appreciate the lad's tale, having lived through a similar fate.

"Well Mr. Davis," nodded Reiley. "I believe you're on the right path to..."

"There's been a murder!" Screamed the welp, who seemed to continually be the bearer of bad news.

"Who was this time boy?" Demanded a voice from the crowd.

"Me thinks it was the captain from the Archangel! Sterling I believe...?"

The words brought a knot to Reiley's stomach.

"Me captain!" Yelled Davis, as he dropped his food and stood to bolt from the table."

"Killingsworth....." Thought Reiley, as he threw payment for their meal onto the table.

"Let's go Lad!" Ordered Reiley. " and keep a sharp eye. There might be more that follow!"

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The raport of a pistol shot jerked my attention away from further introspection. People were screaming, and a coach barreled past, its outrider's face grim, his gaze directed toward the other side of the street. I did not recognize the coach, but I could see a single female occupant within, who bent over a figure who must be laying on the opposite bench. What the devil had happened?

Quick as a cat, I raced through the milling crowd to where the guard had been looking. Two figures melted into the smaller lane, one in obvious pursuit of the other. The acrid smell of gunpowder hung in the air. In the mad shuffle of people, I caught a glimpse of a pistol kicked unheeded through the dirt by rushing feet.

I grabbed the pistol and shoved it into my pocket, then rushed into the lane behind the two men, one of whom I knew only too well. Killingsworth! Who had he killed this time? And who was the man giving him a crushing blow to the head?

With my own pistol drawn and cocked until formal introductions could be made, I approached the man remaining on his feet. "Stand fast, sir. I mean you no hurt, but that man is known to me and must pay the price for murder." I gave the stanger a coy smile. "Unless, of course, you mean to kill him this instant, in which case I shall applaud your endeavors and be on my way."

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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Lilly watched out her window as her young guest appeared below in the street. She placed her face in her hands for a moment, letting out a wail of anguish then looking back down at the street as Ransom walked towards the harbor area. “Fool!” Lilly whispered to herself. “She couldn’t tell that I was acting?” A light smile crept up the corners of her mouth. “Mores the pity…but I must be careful to track my lies just so.” The tale of Sterling and Darnly being half brothers was a falsehood. But she did not wish for the young Ransom to become trapped in her horrid life. If she were to get involve, misery could only follow. A little white lie would make things easier to swallow, she thought.

She said then turned and looked about the damaged room. Suddenly, the sound from the bar roared up from the bottom of the stairs. She could hear people shouting and making commotion. A heavy foot-fall stumbled up the stairs in front of her door. “He’s been shot!” Then the voice of John said in amazement. “Who boy? Whom do you speak of?” “Captain Sterling!”

Lilly froze. Her breath left her for a moment. She felt a sharp pain within her heart. “What?!” She ran to the door and called out to John. “Here, open this door at once! If this is true I must see him! I must be with him!” John lent towards the door. “You are better off being locked up Mistress. I will send word upon my return!” “NO!” She shouted and started banging upon the door. “Don’t leave me here! I must see him! Please for the love of God, I must be with him!” She quickly ran to the window. Within moments she saw the crowds gather quickly in the streets. Some walked in the direction of the horrid event. She opened the pigeon-size window and shouted below. “You there! What of the Captain who was shot?” The young man turned up and looked towards her. “No one knows yet. But they’ve captured the assailant!” She drew herself back inside. “It must be Killingsworth.” She said to herself. “If he’s killed my Johnny…there will be hell to pay!”

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Ioan had instinctively ducked when the pistol was fired. Then he saw first the boy, and then Sterling himself, fall from the horse. It lunged toward him, and Ioan grabbed the reins, halting the animal before it could bolt. The man on the big bay slid from his horse, and between him and another, the captain was lifted from the ground and placed in the coach, a woman hovering over him, her face twisted in anguish. A beauty, Ioan thought, before the coach horses where whipped up and the vehicle sped away.

Without thought, he mounted the captain's horse and followed the coach.

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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"MMmm...." I grumbled. I crack open one of me eyes and take a look around.

"Ahhh.. I must have slept through the night." I thought. "DRAT!" I stood with force only to fall down in my seat again.

"Oohh.. me head." " A bit too much last night I'm afraid." I guess I have drank myself silly last night and pass out in the tavern.

"Sir?"

"Yes", I answered, half crackin' an eye open.

"Would you like a drink or something to eat?" asked the barmaid.

"Aye, that would do nicely. Nothing to heavy please, maybe some bread would be just fine." "...and a nicely spiced rum."

"Right away." she said in a soft tone.

Well last night was much deserved. I needed that. Now just to clear my head a bit and off to see what else has become of this island.

As my vittles were placed before me I reminisced the actions of last night. I remember hearing that a girl was murdered a few days ago and the killer was on the lose. Interesting thought I wonder why, but no matter people die all the time in this place. It was a miracle I survived as long as I did. Finishing my meal, I paid up my trans actions and gave a wink to the barmaid stepped out into the street.

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In the north end of the harbor, the sloop “Perdition” laid docked. As the ship emptied its cargo and crew, an elegant figure step forward upon its’ deck.

She was tall and slender in form. Her colour soft and pale, not one that was accustom to the sun. Her hair piled high in the fashion of London and her eyes the deepest of blue. As she approached the gangplank she could hear the whispers of the crew talk amongst themselves. With a short look from the First Mate, their whispers became silent. “I shall send your things to your lodgings, Lady. Where shall I ask will you be staying?” With a gentle turn, he could hear the rustling of her silk skirts. “I will be staying at The Shipp.” The expression on the Captain’s face was one of concern and mayhap, disgust. “My Lady, The Ship is not a proper place for a woman of your caliber. May I suggestion another Inn? Perhaps one that would be better suited?” With a smile and a nod, she whispered lightly. “No, you may not.” With that she departed down the gangplank.

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With my own pistol drawn and cocked until formal introductions could be made, I approached the man remaining on his feet. "Stand fast, sir. I mean you no hurt, but that man is known to me and must pay the price for murder." I gave the stanger a coy smile. "Unless, of course, you mean to kill him this instant, in which case I shall applaud your endeavors and be on my way."

Childermass paused, loosening hold of limp burden and allowing ungentle drop to ground's keeping. Reptilian glare centered on disrupting party; head cocked slightly to the left with measuring air.

"It's best if ye move along on your way and forget what you have seen..." He straightened lank frame to full heigth, giving no regard to pistol's train. "This..." punctuating the word with abrupt kick to inate form, "...belongs to those which ye want no crossin' with."

Reaching down to Killingsworth's unconscious being, Childermass acted as though the other had already departed his company. Turning towards the side street's seaward direction, he resumed course of intended destination then hesitated long enough to fix her with over shoulder glance, "Feast for carrion crows, child...A feast for crows."

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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I met the man's hard, cold, almost reptilian stare. His discust for the thing that lay at his feet was obvious. I uncocked my pistol and lowered it, giving the man a slight bow. If Killingsworth was truely dead, then I had no further need of the handerchief or the dead man's pistol. But, was he dead or merely knocked out?

"You are sure he is feast for crows? I've known many a man to play dead, only to rise again, like a Pheonix."

The man paused, his expression one of annoyance, as if I were a fly that buzzed around his face and he would happily swat.

I pulled Killingsworth's pistol from my pocket. "If Killingsworth has gone to meet his maker, whomever that may be, then you might want a little souvineer of your handiwork." I tossed him the pistol. "I believe that belongs to the recumbant gentleman."

Besides, I thought, I certainly don't want to be caught with it.

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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He cried out as the forward movement of the carriage shook him to the bone.  His thoughts quickly turning to a prayer of safe keeping for his crewe.  Then his mind raced with the memories of those he had hurt in his life time, them that he had failed and never truly meant to harm.  His eyes filled with tears.  Strangely he could not remember the last time he had cried but now, he only could only feel regret at the harm he had done.  As a tear ran down the side of his face he could only whisper..."I am so very sorry..." and then he closed his eyes.

Clearing the crowd's strangle, the carriage gained open passage and more speed with whip singing overhead. There was no question involving choice of safe haven and the carriage rocked slightly as it veered around hay cart near Birdwell Prison.

Within fragile case of blackened passenger compartment, Aurore cradled Sterling's body against her own in effort to cushion against rough traverse. Cloth had been torn away from burgandy dress and used to help staunch the flow of lifeblood. She was unable to discern words uttered before he passed out, but trivialities of such nature held no bearing in her current state.

Softly, she whispered words of encouragement while caressing Sterling's pale cheek. Jason watched on, not daring to give verbose or show fear in Mistress's presence. Silently, the young lad called incantation of prayer as pain tinged cherubesque expression. The carriage lurched again as new heading was made.Somewhere in the confussion of sounds, Aurore faintly heard Christophe call instructions to Delaney and Delaney's muffeled reply.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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I met the man's hard, cold, almost reptilian stare. His discust for the thing that lay at his feet was obvious. I uncocked my pistol and lowered it, giving the man a slight bow. If Killingsworth was truely dead, then I had no further need of the handerchief or the dead man's pistol. But, was he dead or merely knocked out?

"You are sure he is feast for crows? I've known many a man to play dead, only to rise again, like a Pheonix."

The man paused, his expression one of annoyance, as if I were a fly that buzzed around his face and he would happily swat.

I pulled Killingsworth's pistol from my pocket. "If Killingsworth has gone to meet his maker, whomever that may be, then you might want a little souvineer of your handiwork."  I tossed him the pistol. "I believe that belongs to the recumbant gentleman."

Besides, I thought, I certainly don't want to be caught with it.

Childermass hesitated again, turning to deftly catch spent weapon. A wry chuckle rolled low from his depths, "No, child...He is not a feast yet...But, he will be soon enough."

He raised his head just enough for morning sun to stroke scarred features and offered her a knowing wink. For good measure, limp burden was slammed betwixt supporting shoulder and near structure wall. Seth's departing words played the air with frigid cadance....

"An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth, child.."

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Ioan had instinctively ducked when the pistol was fired. Then he saw first the boy, and then Sterling himself, fall from the horse. It lunged toward him, and Ioan grabbed the reins, halting the animal before it could bolt. The man on the big bay slid from his horse, and between him and another, the captain was lifted from the ground and placed in the coach, a woman hovering over him, her face twisted in anguish. A beauty, Ioan thought, before the coach horses where whipped up and the vehicle sped away.

Without thought, he mounted the captain's horse and followed the coach.

Christophe had noticed Old Tucker and unknown rider as the carriage had neared the Port's outer edge. Sending vehicle onward around dirt road bend, the Frenchman had drawn Bay to halt. The sound of following hoofbeat neared steadfast as blunderbuss was released from secure hibernation and brought to bear with practiced aim; the elegant cock drawn back.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Set softly inside her carriage Lady St. Claire watched the streets of Port Royal scatter with people going to and fro. The alarm was sounded. On the south end of town a crowded mass was now gathered. She looked in awe at the masses. "Driver?" She shouted. "What is the commotion about?" The Driver looked down the street. "It were two night back that a barmaid was done in. Now the talk about upon the streets are that the murder killed another...a Captain I think.

She lent back in her carriage. Her eyes darted to an fro in thought. "Is there no law in this town?" She asked the Driver again. "Aye, there is Lady. But we have heard very little from our Lord Mayor this last few months."

As the carriage stopped at the Inn called, The Ship. She was helped out of the carriage and entered the main hall. There, in the main room sat a fat man with a dirty sun burned face. He looked up from his tankard as she walked in with the driver behind her. "Danny! Who do we have here?" Said the Tavern Owner. "This be Lady St. Claire. She is looking for a room." Suprise took over the Tavern Owner's face. "Here? She wishes to stay here?" "Yes, that's what I wish." She said stepping forward. "For ye see, t'was told that ye offer wonderful care for your guests." She the looked about the bar. Broken bits of furniture still shoved in the corners along with broken pottery for the fight almost a week back.

"Aye, could have said those very words a fort-night ago...but alas, cannot now. Tis not a safe place for a woman, pegging yar pardon, Lady. I must turn ye away, for less than three days back this very inn was a site of deathly murder."

Tess' eyes widen. "A guest here in this very inn was killed?!" Her pale face now drew to the colour of Alabaster. "Aye, tis true, My Lady."

Just then a young man exhausted from a long run entered the bar. He leaned against the bar and begged for a drink. In the commotion, the Tarvern Owner raced by the young man's side and handed him a cup of ale. "What is it, man...what happen out there?"

"I cannot say for sure. 'Twas walking up to the cemetary to see Molly off. Pay my proper respects. Then out of know where, a man shot at a noble man, riding horse back. I think he's dead. The crowd paniced! And before I could gather what was going on, Sabastian, Molly's lover, was had beaten the man...he may have killed him there right before everyone's eyes! It were horrible."

It was then the young man turned as saw Tess St. Claire standing there. "Oh, I am terribly sorry, my Lady. I did not know ye were there...I mean...I was just...."

With a calm warm smile she nodded gracefully. "Thee are quite fine, I assure ye." Tess' mind raced for a moment. She could only draw her own conclusions but wished to make sure that her own fears were confirmed. "Does anyone know whom this man was?" The young man bowed his head. "It were that Flop who stayed here...so sure am I that I can still see his eyes. What was his name Danny?" "Killingsworth." The driver said in a low hushed tone.

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His eyes flew open, his senses bombarded with information that he tried to properly place. The sun, too bright for comfort, the heat as always miserable. There were fine splinters of wood pricking at his cheek as he lay on his right side on a long wooden table, his bad eye making it difficult to see. His ears were accosted with sounds of fabric tearing, lowered voices talking ceaselessly. An occasional shout caused him to flinch in alarm resulting in pain shooting through his torso, his upper left back, the inside of his chest... burning. He forced himself to take small, shallow breaths, anything more only brought on the horrible feeling of drowning again. He could feel his nose running, his mouth filling with something slightly salty which caused him to gag and cough which caused the pain in his body to increase.

And then he heard her voice. When he tried to look for her, he felt her hand upon his brow, gently smoothing back over his hair.

“Be still,” she whispered and smiled at him…. But her eyes gave her away. She was worried…about something.

He studied her face for a moment as she leaned down to him and he smiled as well.

“There, tis a good thing to see!” he heard a man say. The man was the next to come into view.

“Doctor?” Sterling struggled to say, desiring to spit the foul taste from his mouth. “But how did ye get here?

And… where am I? What …”

“Shh,” Aurore whispered.

“Yes sir,” Reiley chuckled. “You were winged pretty good sir, but nothing yer fine doctor can’t be fixin! With some care and a watchful eye, you‘ll be up and about in no time…. But for now there be a ball I needs to be finding … I promise ye sir, this will hurt!”


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

http://jcsterlingcptarchang.wix.com/creweofthearchangel#

http://creweofthearchangel.wordpress.com/

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