Port Royal, Jamaica

[CrazyCholeBlack]

"Aye," I said looking at my brother and then back to the large man in front of us. "We 'ave 'n agreement."

“Very well gentlemen.” Triumph flooded Ulises’ chest. He could feel the hands of fate closing around Striker as he spoke. A satisfied curve lit his otherwise dark features. “I can be found here once the task is completed.” With out any further ceremony the Capitán rose. He nodded slightly to the matched faces before disappearing into the dimly lit Inn.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Charles wandered the streets absently as the day wore on. The sky was heavy with clouds, a demanding wind blowing from the ocean. He pulled the dirty grey coat tightly around himself as the gusts pushed at him. His mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts. Striker, the Spanish, pirates, he couldn’t makes sense of any of it. All he knew was that the simple life he had become accustomed to since Joseph brought him onboard the Anna Rae had suddenly changed.

He was wrenched out of his thoughts suddenly as an overloaded cart nearly knocked him into the dirt. Angry green eyes followed the horse drawn bed as it struggled under its heavy burden. Another followed quickly in its wake. Charles furrowed his brow, jostled where he stood by a throng of people carrying arm loads of personal possessions. Had the fire rekindled itself he wondered? Eyes turned upward as a bolt of lightening brightened the prematurely dark sky, jaw dropped in astonishment as he saw the growing storm for the first time. Sweat streaked palms were rubbed against worn slops, his heart racing. Something in his gut told him this was no ordinary storm. A boisterous roll of thunder jerked him out of his shock. Charles hurried through the tangled street, dodging the fleeting population as he reached the nearly vacant docks. The Anna Rae bobbed & weaved in her berth, shuttering with every forceful gust. He raced aboard the merchantman, stunned to find her a floating ghost. He stormed to the captain’s cabin, not bothering to knock before entering the stuffy space.

“Fulton!” Charles hollered the crack of fear in his voice as another gust strained at the ship.

“Wotta ye wan?” the slurred response came as the inebriated captain staggered from a dark corner. He stumbled as the ship pitched, catching himself on the edge of his desk. “Brin me more ruhm or ged out ye lout!” he bellowed suddenly, flinging the bottle at Charles. The carpenter ducked, the projectile shattering on the wall behind him. Cold green eyes glared at the drunkard, the final of his patience broken.

“Yer a lousy drunk Fulton. Tha Anna goes down, I hope you go with ‘er” Charles spun sharply on his heel, storming from the ship with as much furry as the tempest around him.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

“Ahoy Chippy!”

“Lookie ‘ere. Mr. Chole has found ‘is way!”

“Ben ta tha ship lad?”

“Oi, cap’n got ye good thar didn ‘e” The voices ran together chaotically, echoing loudly in the startlingly quiet pub.

He nodded at the rowdy bunch gathered round the rough wooden table. They laughed and jostled with each other, passing bottles of rum & pitchers of ale between them. A few coin hungry women leaned over the men or lounged in their laps. Charles pulled an unbalanced stool from another table, seating himself carefully to avoid falling.

“Cap’n still in his cups when ye left lad?” One of the maintop men queried, his leathery hands busily roaming the soft curves of the woman on his lap.

“Aye. ‘e’s gonna sinker fer sure when tha storm finally hits” Charles shook his head in disbelief. He had always known Fulton was a drunken fool, but even this was beyond him. Charles rubbed his temple in frustration, baffled by the captain’s sudden disregard for even his own life.

“Well, wot bett’r place ta wait out a blow then someplace wif ale aye!” another crewman countered, raising his full mug to the cheers of the others gathered. The tavern keeper groaned as he set another pitcher of the thick brew in the circle of men. The graying man obviously wished the tavern was empty so he could focus on surviving the storm rather than catering to a bunch of sailors.

“Favor us wif one o yer songs boyo” someone shouted to Charles, followed by a chorus of agreement.

“Pass tha bott’l n’ I’ll think on it” He smiled, shoving one of the other men roughly on the shoulder.

“Oi! A cup fer tha Chippy!” someone else hollered, pounding a fist on the cluttered table.

A dented metal tankard was dumped unceremoniously on the tavern floor before being refilled with dark rum and passed to Charles’ waiting hand. The drink was emptied with surprising haste, any stray drops wiped on a torn sleeve. Work dirtied hands refilled the mug with ale, drinking deeply, letting the numbing drink take its hold. The nagging continued, off key lyrics sung in hopes of influencing his choice of song. Charles grinned at his crewmen’s persistence. His memory for songs was his one claim to fame aboard the ship. It was a talent that more than made up for his only passable carpentry skills. The table fell silent as the strong alto of Charles’ voice began to sing.

“There's a lusty liquor which

Good fellows use to take-a,

It is distill'd with nard most rich,

And water of the lake-a;

Of hop a little quantity,

And barm to it they bring too;

Being barrell'd up, they call't a cup

Of dainty good old stingo.

'Twill make a man indentures make,

'Twill make a fool seem wise,

'Twill make a Puritan sociate,

And leave to be precise;

'Twill make him dance about a cross,

And eke to run the ring too,

Or anything he once thought gross,

Such virtue hath old stingo.

[Capt. Sterling]

Carriage was rigged and few personal possessions were hurriedly pack away within. Meagan and Aurore, bundled in cloaks were assisted inside and, with one last nail to be placed, house was boarded up as best as possible in the sudden haste.

Sterling, with grateful clap upon Stephen's shoulder, announced it was time to go and the men made their way to the carriage. Seated alongside driver, second wedding coat was pulled tightly about himself as the rain began to fall. Although not happy to sit in the weather without Brandenburg or greatcoat, the Captain wished to view the skies and the winds as they travelled rapidly back to the docks.

[Ransom]

Since Professor Trilby had lived in Port Royal for some ten years, he knew what was coming. The first hurricane he'd lived through nearly destroyed his house, so he had a few improvements made. Heavy wooden storm shutters now blocked each window, held tight as locked gate with timbers in iron cradles. Both lower floor doors were similarly secured, as was the door to the roof terrace. This was meant to stave off looters as well as weather. He and Souris had taken everything off the floors and lower shelves, and placed them on tables or stacked them on the stairs, all in case water flooded the streets and invaded the house. Extra candles and lamb oil were gathered in the study, the most secure room, along with a supply of dried fruits and fish, and a quantity of fresh water.

As the wind picked up and rattled the shutters, and thunder boomed and echoed, Trilby looked to the glass beaker and the little glass globes. Some nearly rested on the bottom, while the rest floated a bare inch above.

Trilby shook his head. "This is nae gonna be pleasant."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Christophe had ridden at break neck pace back to the Port after leaving the cove. With arrival at warehouse, he found that all was in the end doings of securities against the danger looming closer. Andre' had come and gone, leaving word that all were to meet in the safety of the old Maroon's encampment, nestled in the foothills. Turning mount, speed was regained, leaving the lane and onto High Street, but speed was checked as a carriage appeared, travelling in direction of the quays.

The chaise could have been mistaken for any number of its' kind, but the matched team drawing it were unmistakable. Bay was goaded to motion again, then drawn alongside. Stephen brought carriage to halt, keeping silent in response to the glare cast on Frenchman's expression.

Bay shifted footing, disconcerted to the coming gale, then was manuvered to where Sterling sat.

In a low voice that offered little, if any, friendly exchange, Christophe addressed the other, "You would be wise to inform me that the carriage is vacant of anything other than possessions..."

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling leaned back slowly, an even more threatening storm clouding over features as Christophe spoke.

"What is Le Cour's will be returned to Le Cour when I make the habour. All will be free to return to you and yours. But what is a part of me, shall go with me, where I know she will be safe and protected in a far better fashion than what can be provided here."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The Frenchman's eyes narrowed at Sterling's bravado, "You, Monsuier, are not in your right mind at all. You would risk her life with foolhardiness....Even Sabastian would not standby for such ill made actions. You would tell me that her safety is assured in the middle of where this is coming from instead of on higher ground in the securities offered by the foothills inland? To the mercy of the Sea? You are mad, Monsieur!"

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling's head cocked slightly to one side as he studied irrate Frenchman. When he spoke again, his tone was only loud enough to be heard above the wind. Anger in check yet the tone as cold as drawn steel.

"Do not question my judgement regarding my wife! I know the sea and my ship far better than you know the island you currently inhabit. Sabastian's fear of the waters prohibits him from discerning correctly. Aye, there is a danger with this storm and putting out to sea, but it is a far safer choice then remaining here, unless you've gone to earth, in those insignificant foothills of yours."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice as best he could and yet still be heard. "You've lost here Christophe. Ye were a fool to wait so long and now she has chosen me. Aurore holds my heart in her hands, I would sooner let her crush it than cause any harm to her myself. Now I will do what I know is good and proper regarding her. Find another Christophe and stand aside. If you cause me any further delay in getting to my ship, I will shoot you where you stand!"

[Aurore Devareaux]

The chaise stopping added further fuel to the fears barely contained within her person. Shade was raised and eyes captured long time companion just forward of where she sat. With the windows secured and the wind whipping with fevor, words could not be picked by hearing, but Christophe's posture and facial expression gave away much. Sterling remained out of view for what seemed the majority of interchange, then leaned outward carriage perch.

Aurore drew deep breath and held it captured in lung confines, as Christophe's posture gained hints of threatning manner; a body verbose that she had witnessed in the past....a kindred thing likened to serpent coiling just before strike. Door was quickly wrestled open, "Non, Tristan....Please!"

The slate sights quickly cut to the direction of her voice, dismissing Sterling's existance. Frenchman directed Bay close to where Aurore balanced half in and out of chaise sanctuary. He dismounted, keeping hold of Bay reins and moved close. Reaching forward, one small hand was taken into his own, gentle brush of lips laid to its' back then released. Nothing was said as Aurore noted the haunting visage that floated his eyes, which the Frenchman quickly directed elsewhere.

"Tristan...?"

Hailing was ignored and he moved away regaining Bay's seat. Rain's force gained renewed stregnth as horse and rider departed.

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling leaped down from his place beside Stephen, other's eyes cast downward during heated exchange. The wind now stirred enough as to cause him difficulty in making his way to the vehicle's door.

He felt himself grit his teeth, trying to eradicate the fury that swallowed him up.

He took hold of door edge.

“Please Chere resume yer seat,” he shouted, blond hair, in long, soaked strands whipping wildly about his face and shoulders.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Hesitant glance was cast up the lane, Aurore's mind whirling with questions that harkened asking. The olive pools refocused on Sterling and she withdrew to the dry cabin interior. She swallowed hard and drew cloak close about small frame; trying to quell fear and confussion battering mental fortitudes.

[Capt. Sterling]

He took the door handle making ready to close it after her, but halted himself midway. He gazed into interior, with warmth and a wink, he smiled at Meagan, hoping to confer that there was nothing to fear. Then he turned to Auore. Appearance changed rapidly, expressionless vizard falling into place.

"He insisted that you go to the hills with the others of your tribe," Sterling said, tone as expressionless as features.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Aurore nodded, drawing the cloak even tighter, "Oui..."

Her response was just above whisper.

[Captain Striker]

The table fell silent as the strong alto of Charles’ voice began to sing.

“There's a lusty liquor which

Good fellows use to take-a,

It is distill'd with nard most rich,

And water of the lake-a;

Of hop a little quantity,

And barm to it they bring too;

Being barrell'd up, they call't a cup

Of dainty good old stingo.

'Twill make a man indentures make,

'Twill make a fool seem wise,

'Twill make a Puritan sociate,

And leave to be precise;

'Twill make him dance about a cross,

And eke to run the ring too,

Or anything he once thought gross,

Such virtue hath old stingo.

One could hear a man clapping his hands .It almost sounded as the thunder that was aproaching the Isle .

The man treaded out of the dark revealing himself , it was Striker .

He aproached the young sailor . The sailor's face turned into a familiar redish tone.

"Most impressive ... Mr. Chole , was it not ? ... Most impressive indeed" Striker said while his azure eyes starred into the jade coloured eyes of the sailor .

[Capt. Sterling]

"Oui?" Sterling repeated, face reacting ever so briefly. "Then that is truly where ye wish to go? That be where yer heart lies? Then so be it. I shall make it so. Dieu être avec vous. Adieu."

He slammed the door shut, yet checked to make sure it held fast. Rounding front of chaise he began to unharness one of the horses.

"Do ye know where Le Cour hides in such a spell as this?" he shouted to the groom.

Abernathy nodded as Sterling coaxed horse free of vehicle and swung himself up upon bare back. For a agonizing moment, pain coarsed through him with his efforts, nearly numbing him to his core.

"Good. Make haste then. There is no time to lose."

[CrazyCholeBlack]

The sudden clapping turned several heads around the rough table. Charles’ vision followed the others as a man appeared out of a dark corner, casually approaching the rowdy gathering. The stern figure was all too familiar. Charles swallowed hard, a shiver of panic shaking him to the core. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, his grip on the rough tankard tightened. The heat flooded his cheeks as the bright blue eyes locked on his own. Striker looked straight at him, looked straight through him. The recognition was undeniable. Charles was racked with guilt. Striker’s inquisitive eyes begged for answers, yet Charles couldn’t risk letting his masquerade slip around his crewmates.

"Most impressive ... Mr. Chole , was it not ? ... Most impressive indeed"

“Aye. Thank ye sir.” Charles could barely get the words out through his shaking voice. He lifted the mug to his suddenly dry lips, emptying the contents in one gulp, his gaze never dropping from Strikers.

“Waitin’ out tha storm to are ye? Sit, ‘ave a drink on wot’s left o tha Anna Rae” The grinning face of one of the maintop men turned to Striker, gesturing with the full pitcher over the gathering.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sterling's words stung and she was further confused by his abruptness. The fear of his seperation outweighed all else; cloak and skirts were gathered in a flurry. Carriage door was pulled from Aurore's grasp at wind's intent, and she gained the puddled ground in small hop, without thought of drawing hood protection.

[Capt. Sterling]

Mount's attention was quickly refocused toward billowing gown and outer garment. Already senses were at its highest and sudden sight of Aurore sent carriage horse upward upon hind legs, fore lashing angrily at imaginary enemy.

Gentle, but rapid strike between horse's ears brought panicked animal back to earth, as Sterling turned it about, anger and hurt fighting for control of his being.

"What the bloody hell do ye think ye are doing?" he shouted but only to be heard above the storm. "Get back inside. I am sending ye to yer brother and that bloody Frenchman. Tis where ye wish to be! I grow weary Mistress of constantly being told how to direct my life and affections toward ye where yer old lover is concerned."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Aurore's eyes grew wide to the cruelties voiced and she took a step backwards involuntarily. A smallish burn developed in sinus cavities and another step was taken in reverse as she shook her head not understanding. Then quickly, she pivoted direction, running blind away from where the carriage held ground.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Damnation!" Sterling shouted. Immediately as bride took flight, he softly shortened rein, adjusted seat and gripped with thigh and calf. Mount still not pleased with change of task, gathered self back on haunches hanging in time and space before rider's leg pressure became too great to ignore.

Mount launched forward to give chase, ears flat against sides of head in protest to actions not normal to its routine.

"Aurore!" Sterling shouted after her as horse quickly spanned the gap between them.

[Aurore Devareaux]

The sound of shod hoof battery on sodden ground loomed near to Aurore's sense of hearing and she deftly dodged down near alleyway by instinct. Memories of another life flooded her mind, causing adrenalin to drive flight faster but, alley gave no reprive comming to dead end.

[Capt. Sterling]

Hoves flailed with difficulty trying to gain hold of slick cobblestones until finally skidding to awkward halt.

Sterling dismounted and dropping reins made his way to his wife's side.

He took her by the upper arm, grip hard enough to keep her from further flight.

"What are ye doing Chere?" he whispered, his face now pale with the fright she had caused him.

[Aurore Devareaux]

She twisted trying to break free to no avail, tragic rabbit caught in human snare. Free arm raised instinctually to protect face as she made another attempt at release. "Non..." she pleaded.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Non..." she pleaded.

His gut reaction was to take her in his arms and hold her tightly until she stopped her struggling... but his heart said other wise. His grip lightened until good hand fell away freeing her.

"As ye wish," he whispered, his words lost in the howling of the storm. He turned away from her, making his way to the mouth of the alley. He brought himself to a halt, watching as the loose carriage horse bolted with flash of lightening and raced off toward home. He knew she could not turn any where else but back the same way he had just come. He leaned back against the far building, knees giving way, he sank down to rest upon his heels as he waited.