Port Royal, Jamaica

[Aurore Devareaux]

The Noir was goaded closer to where Ransom stood, "I am agreeing to the conditions of which you have asked. What is to be judged is the worth and that shall soon be revealed. I have not commited to exact incriments, but I will not cheat you the value, either. I would not have you think I am what your father told you of."

[Ransom]

"As I said before, my father is an ignorant man. He misjudged many people. Including his own daughter."

[Aurore Devareaux]

"Then I would say he is more than a fool for injustices towards his own. Never second guess, I may be many things...Possibly including what your acuisation states, but, I am not a cheat. Further, when we are in accord and all falls to rest, nary a word shall be spoken of this night in connection with yourself. I shall leave you to pursue those things that you harbour deep inside and are afear of facing."

Sabastian's center of attention turned towards where she remained, dark eyes intent under obsurities lent by night and battered brim.

"We are all granted one life, Mademoiselle. We can choose to helm our courses....Or fall prey to the things which knaw at our souls while we try to out manuver them. I know my place in the world....But, can you say the same?"

[Ransom]

"I had no real fear of you cheating me, or announcing to the world our business arrangements. I am glad you know your place in the world. As for me, I have fought and earned my place. And there are things that knaw on everyone's souls, otherwise, you would not have had Killingsworth killed to atone for the death of your lover. I would advice you not to second guess either."

I approached the dark horse, who turned its head to sniff my sleeve. "I do not desire to earn your disfavor, Sebastion. Our worlds may be different, but in many ways they are the same. We should be able to find neutral ground on which to stand. Besides, after tonight, we will probably never see each other again."

The sound of oars in the water made me turn. Africa and the boat, along with Mr. Lambert, were only twenty yards off shore.

I turned back to Sebastian. "It has been an interesting evening, has it not...Manouche?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

He stared hard at her for a momment, "Perhaps it has been rather enlightening." His eyes shifted to launch progress, " I must beg your leave briefly. Pardon, Mademoiselle."

Noir was negotiated to where the watercraft would once again meet terra. As it was pulled forward to sand clutch, mount was deserted for short walk up shoreline in Christophe's company. Nothing was said until some distance was gained.

"Your opinions?" Sabastian queried in hushed tone.

"The powder is of fine quality, all that I inspected was dry and untainted. The hold is full, that I know and in the dim I was unable to gain a clear count of kegs."

"Mousquet?" Sabastian prodded.

"Oui. Unused and bearing the St. Etienne mark, numbering twenty crates, all told."

Beggar Prince rubbed chin thoughtfully then nodded with a pleased reaction slying angled features, "Tres bien, merci beaucoup."

"Kingstown?"

"Oui...I think that best. The mousquet we can take now...But the powder is another thing entirely. You will be so kind as to inform Mademoiselle of my conditions, s'il vous plait."

[Dan Reid]

"Why can the Mah-lee-nah not use 'er guns, but mus' stay afloat?  'Twould b' easier t' sink 'er no?"]

Dan drifted back into the shadows of the tavern "Now I be wonderin' 'ow I can turn this ta me advantage" he thought to himself.

[Ransom]

...Beggar Prince rubbed chin thoughtfully then nodded with a pleased reaction slying angled features, "Tres bien, merci beaucoup."

"Kingstown?"

"Oui...I think that best. The mousquet we can take now...But the powder is another thing entirely. You will be so kind as to inform Mademoiselle of my conditions, s'il vous plait."

I stood watching as Sebastian and Mr. Lambert stood off a ways and held conversation. Africa remained by the boat, holding her steady. The only sound was the surf rushing in, and with a hiss of sand, rushing out. I longed for the evening to end. I was used to dealing with louts and illiterate traders, or simply taking a ship by force. This battle of wits had left me with a headache and the desire for a strong drink.

I saw Sebastian nod his head, so assumed the report of the cargo was confirmed. The only thing left would be the arrangments for transport, as kegs and crates of such weight could not be unloaded here.

It was not Sebastian who approached me when their meeting was over. I was almost glad. I feared dancing with Sebastian would be like dancing with the devil. Besides, like so many before him, it was clear he had no interest in me, other than what my ship could provide.

As Mr. Lambert came toward me, my face held no expression, and my voice was hard. "I take it all was as I promised?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Christophe's features were set in portait of stoicism though the glint of slate sights observered the other closely.

"Oui, Madame. We shall take into possession the entire cache, but not at this time...nor this location." He paused as the shadow of black equine passed close to tree line then dissapeared from peripheral view. "Monsieur desires that you transport it from here to Kingston and moor there."

[Ransom]

"Kingston? Alright, but I want the provisions waiting in Kingston as well. Along with the payment in coin."

I saw Sebastian dissappear into the darkness of the trees, then turned my attention back to Mr. Lambert. "Who am I to contact in Kingston, or will someone contact me?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

"A Monsieur Elliott Benington is who will issue you permit to dock. Word shall be sent ahead to ensure no issues to arise." The slate sights evaluated her stance briefly before he reached into the deep recess of left coat pocket. The jingle of coin was heard within the confines of smallish velvet pouch brought into the night's air. "This is a show of good faith, I trust it is not ill placed."

[Ransom]

Suddenly I laughed. "Trust? I assure you, Mr. Lambert, you and your...associates...have nothing to fear from me."

I took the pouch and transferred it to my own coat. With a slight bow, I left Lambert and returned to the shore and Africa. Jumping into the boat, I snapped, "Get us out of here."

Without word, Africa climbed aboard and picked up the oars. As he rowed, I sat in brooding silence. When we regained the Rakehell, and the boat was pulled up and secured on deck, I gave orders to make sail for Kingston.

Once within the security of my cabin, I filled a fine silver cup with Port, settled back in my chair, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was only then that I remembered I had left Goose in Port Royal to guard the cannon. I shook my head and laughed. "When we don't come back tonight, the poor sod's going to think we've sailed for the Colonies without him."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Christophe returned to the fold, a flask was making round robin as Sabastian held court. The Frenchman drew near, taking seat upon fallen palm trunk as passed flask was accepted. Draught was taken then handed off.

"Merde', Bastain...What did you say to la femme?"

"Comment?"

"Do not tell me you are blind."

"Aveugle? Non. Was this not a negotiation of business?"

"Oui...But, in mine experience, la femme was rankled on some level."

"C'est ridicule, ami."

"Non...Then you do not see what I see."

Sabastian eyed Christophe with a hint of puzzlement, then captured flask from its' circular flight.

[Robert B. Darnly]

The wrinkled letter was clutched tightly in Darnly’s hand. He sat near the blazing fire gazing into it. No words were spoken as he looked distantly into the flames which licked the night air. With a shallow

breath he opened the letter again.

Lord Darnly,

Things have gone poorly. Reginald Killingsworth is dead and there is no sign of Mistress McKinney as of this letter. The Archangel is in dry dock and its’ Captain cannot be found. I shall send word shortly of details soon.

Humbly

Lady Tess St. Claire

Darnly crumples the letter once more then tosses it into the fire. “I have lost patience with all of you fools!” He finally mutters. He looks over at the nurse with the boy in her arms. “Is he sleeping?” Darnly whispers to the nurse. She only nods. “Let’s see if Lord William Sterling would fancy a visit. I am sure he would like to know what his son John has been up to. This would make for an interesting family reunion, would it not?” Lord Darnly said taking a sip of port.

[Ransom]

With mixed emotons, Ioan had watched the Rakehell slip out of the Port Royal harbor. At one time, he'd been so sure the ship would eventually be his, that seeing it sail away leaving him behind, made him feel suddenly abandoned. It was crazy, concidering all that her captain had done to him in the last few days. But he'd like the men, even though he knew they didn't particularly like him. At least he could understand them, which is more than he could say for those he worked with now.

Ever since the young maid had fled the ship, Captain Striker had been withdrawn. He barked orders, but for the most part stayed below, his injuries too sever to allow much activity. The ship had suffered only a few singed lines, but no real damage fromt the fire. Thankfully, that seemed to have run its course. Only a dim glow of embers in the darkness, and the smell of smoke lingered.

Since it was not his watch, Ioan went below to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Yet the dark image of the Rakehell's canvass etched against the evening sky haunted his dreams.

[Cheeky Actress]

Though there was a full moon, the darkness engulfed everything around her. Its coldness crept towards her slowly as the roaring sounds beat within her ears then suddenly silence. She was troubled and yet she sought out only one thing. Staring off into the darkness she suddenly felt a great and heavy weight. It then did take hold of her; pulling at her, pressing her down towards the bottom, drinking in her body and enveloping her body into dead silence. She closed her eyes and whispered his name upon the wind. Swiftly the moment turned once more to the still, dark place.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

The Spaniard shifted impatiently in his vigil. Night had begun to fall on the city, what little light filled the tavern fading to a dim gray. The woman had yet to return from the upper floor. As the time stretched he became more and more agitated. He stood from the stiff chair, pacing at the base of the stairs. His ear strained for any sounds. His sun tanned brow furrowed at the silence. He spun suddenly at the sound of footsteps in the tavern door. The shadowed figure of his partner closed the distance between the door and rear incline.

“¿Que?” The newcomer muttered, gesturing to the rooms above their heads.

Rough palms rose questioningly, the waiting man had no answers. The other brushed past, frustrated at his crewmates uselessness. He gained the upper floor easily, skipping stairs with his long strides. With haste doors were thrown open, the spaces searched quickly for any sign of Strikers companion. A swift blow from his heavy shoulder breached the few locks that stood in his way. Each room was as empty as the last. His anger grew with each until at last he was fuming. How had the girl gotten past them? Had the other man let her slip? He rushed back down the steps, grabbing his partner by the arm.

“¿Donde está?”

“¿Ella no está allí? Tan malo.” Panic flashed in the other man’s eyes.

There had been no one in or out of the tavern except for the young sailor, he was sure of that. Could she have known they were following her and slipped out an upper window? He doubted the woman was that smart. She had seemed to intent on reaching the tavern to notice anything other than her destination. Still, she had managed to elude them. He cringed involuntarily, the thought of Ulises’ furry breeding fear in his heart.

“Capitán no será feliz” the other agreed, his volume dropping as a worn older man entered the tavern.

The ash covered tavern master eyed the two dark skinned men suspiciously as he rounded the bar. He began absently straightening the ransacked space, his gaze never shifting from the pair. The Spaniards returned the suspicious look, quietly departing out the front entrance. They continued through the streets in silence, each dreading the news they must deliver.

[Ransom]

Professor Trilby sat at the wooden dining table, eating the last of the grilled fish Souris had prepared. He was so tired, he could barely chew, but he was grateful he still had a roof over his head, since this night, many in town didn't. He and Souris had moped up the sloshed water from the floor and stairs, then cleaned away the debris from the rooftop terrace. To his surprise, the skeletal dog had survived, although its straw hat was ashes.

With a sigh, he put down his fork, rose, and retreated to his study. Making himself comfortable in a padded velvet chair, he picked up the volume on Arabic Alchemy he'd been reading recently, flipped through its yellowed and foxed pages, to a particlular drawing, and studied it. Surrounding him were his many experiments, charts, chemicals, bottles of herbs, and scribbled notes.

Taking a break from his reading, he pressed thumb and finger to bridge of nose, rubbed his smoke-irritated eyes, and glanced at a bookcase spilling over with papers and leather bound folios. On one shelf was an enclosed glass beaker filled with oil, in which floated tiny glass globes. With a sigh, he noticed that most of the little globes were floating at the bottom third of the beaker.

"Just what we need," he muttered. "As if that blasted fire weren't bad enough."

Wearily, he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. "Souris, yea little devil. God's nae done with us yet, it seems. Better batten everything down, as it looks tae be we're due for a storm."

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling woke slowly a dull ache prodding gingerly at the inside of his skull. He sat up, the oil still burning in its lamp by the bedside. He smiled a moment after inspection of room to try and remember where he was... this time...

And was glad to see his new bride sleeping quietly in their marriage bed next to him. He stretched and lowered himself back down to the comfort of the feathers and ticking and the warmth and silk of Aurore's body. Scrutiny of fingertips showed that his skin was still puckered and wrinkled from love making in the bath and he chuckled softly to himself until memories of what had happened began to arouse him once again. He turned to his wife wanting more but the annoyance in his head stopped him. Good hand settled gently on tender breast and Aurore woke and looked up at him curiously.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded cautiously. "My head, tis nothing really. In for a change of weather, we are."

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Charles groaned, rubbing his blurry eyes. He had spent the better part of the evening prior chasing every stray spark that had fallen on the Anna Rae. His lungs ached at every breath from the acrid smoke. Captain Fulton had stubbornly refused to move the ship until every last crate was stowed. The task took twice as long as it should have. The crew was constantly stopped by wind tossed embers that threatened to set the entire ship ablaze. By the time the last crate had been secured, the main fire in the city had faded, the evening winds stilled. Charles cursed the foolish captain. The drunkard would do anything for a few extra coins, never mind the risks to ship or crew.

Charles stood from his frayed rope hammock in the small room that served as both sleeping area & workshop. His hands reached over head, grasping the familiar beams as he stretched to his modest height. Squinting into the shadows he rummaged for well worn shoes, finding them buried under a random collection of tools and wood shavings.

“Westing!” Charles bellowed, kicking at the sleeping lump huddled in a corner among odd scraps of wood, “’ey! Tell tha cap’n if ‘e feels like burning down tha ship ta find someone else ta patched ‘er up again aye. Now,” Charles yawned deeply “I’ve got me a pocket o’ coin n’ I plan ta spend it before we leave.”

With that Charles slipped out of the stuffy space and found his way into the open deck. The wind had picked up sharply, pushing any lingering smoke inland. He took in a deep breath of the moist sea air. It felt good filling his lungs with the sweet scent. He loved sailing; it was the captain’s erratic, drunken behavior that he couldn’t stand. He rubbed his jaw where Fulton had caught him the day before. Sharp teeth bit absently at the red split in his swollen lip. It hadn’t been the first altercation Charles had with the captain. He knew he could only push so far without risking more than just a solid flogging though. The constant fear of discovery was the only thing that ever stopped him. As he walked towards the gangplank his green eyes wandered the choppy waters of the bay, searching for the polished galleon he knew wasn’t there. He cursed himself for leaving Striker’s side, cursed himself even more for thinking he had any other choice. Something in his gut told him that he was nearing the end though, at least of his time aboard the Anna Rae.

[Ransom]

Once again the Rakehell rode at anchor, this time on the opposite side of the bay from Port Royal. It was barely past dawn, and all I could see on shore were mean huts and rooting pigs. A crooked, weathered pier, like a broken finger, thrust out from the beach.

Africa stood at the rail, but his face was turned toward the open sea, not at the shore. I approached him and nodded. "Yes, I smell it too. Storm coming in. Let's hope Sebastian's men can unload before it hits. If they can't, then worse luck for them, for I'll not wait around. Be ready to hoist anchor and flee when the wind starts to pick up."

He pointed to the Southern horizon. "Dem clouds laying low now, but I 'speck day comin' dis way soon. Half day, maybe bit more, but no less. You see da water? Da sea got dat dark angry look she get when she mad."

I nodded again, then turned my attention toward the empty pier. "Where the bloody hell are they?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sterling woke slowly a dull ache prodding gingerly at the inside of his skull. He sat up, the oil still burning in its lamp by the bedside. He smiled a moment after inspection of room to try and remember where he was... this time...

And was glad to see his new bride sleeping quietly in their marriage bed next to him. He stretched and lowered himself back down to the comfort of the feathers and ticking and the warmth and silk of Aurore's body. Scrutiny of fingertips showed that his skin was still puckered and wrinkled from love making in the bath and he chuckled softly to himself until memories of what had happened began to arouse him once again. He turned to his wife wanting more but the annoyance in his head stopped him. Good hand settled gently on tender breast and Aurore woke and looked up at him curiously.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded cautiously. "My head, tis nothing really. In for a change of weather, we are."

Aurore's brow furrowed minutely, eyes filled with sympathy, "Perhaps it would be best if you lie back down...." He words cut short at the first sound of wind shift and buffet against house sides. The main door below was heard to open, followed by muffled conversation that smacked of urgency.

The sound of determined footfall played the stairway then onward the hallway's course.

[Capt. Sterling]

"By God, tis only ..." he paused. "What time is it?" he asked, the sun far from making its way into the morning sky. He raised himself from the bed, still wanting more of his wife and rummaged around looking for something to wear. As of yet, nothing of his old clothing had been moved to the new surroundings.

"Damnation!" he grumbled, his breeches still across the hall in the room with the tub.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Once again the Rakehell rode at anchor, this time on the opposite side of the bay from Port Royal. It was barely past dawn, and all I could see on shore were mean huts and rooting pigs. A crooked, weathered pier, like a broken finger, thrust out from the beach.

Africa stood at the rail, but his face was turned toward the open sea, not at the shore. I approached him and nodded. "Yes, I smell it too. Storm coming in. Let's hope Sebastian's men can unload before it hits. If they can't, then worse luck for them, for I'll not wait around. Be ready to hoist anchor and flee when the wind starts to pick up."

He pointed to the Southern horizon. "Dem clouds laying low now, but I 'speck day comin' dis way soon. Half day, maybe bit more, but no less. You see da water? Da sea got dat dark angry look she get when she mad."

I nodded again, then turned my attention toward the empty pier. "Where the bloody hell are they?"

Elliott watched as the large sea-goer negotiated nearer from the warmth of simple home. Turning away from the view of angry skies on the horizon, he fixed Devon with an aprehensive look, "Tis of no good what I see in'na distance..."

Burke replaced the other at window's view and gave low whistle. The sea's wrath was not an unfamilliar thing being from the shores of County Cork; nevertheless, what happened in these tropical climes struck more fear into his heart than anything from Irish Sea.

"Then we best be movin' fast, eh boyo?"

Elliott noted the false tone of assuredness in Irish brogue then nodded as he reached for overcoat on nearby peg.

[Capt. Sterling]

"By God, tis only ..." he paused. "What time is it?" he asked, the sun far from making its way into the morning sky. He raised himself from the bed, still wanting more of his wife and rummaged around looking for something to wear. As of yet, nothing of his old clothing had been moved to the new surroundings.

"Damnation!" he grumbled, his breeches still across the hall in the room with the tub.

Snatching upper most blanket from bed, Sterling pulled it around himself and made his way to the door...

[Aurore Devareaux]

Stephen Abernathy was from a long line of seamen, but had chosen different vocation. Regardless, with the heritage that ran six generations to his, the Sea and its' temperment where things that sang to some buried portion of his soul. Something in the air had stirred his unconscious mind, bringing him from slumber to sudden wakefullness. On some instinctual draw, he had stepped into the wee hours of the new coming day and scented the atmosphere.

Six generations sang his blood, warning of what was to come with clarion volume. Now standing afore Master Chamber, a knock to raise the dead was applied to rouse those within.