Port Royal, Jamaica

[Cheeky Actress]

Mistress McKinney had been taken below deck into a small cabin only equipped for two men, let alone the three that now occupied it. The boat pitched back and forth in the fury of the storm, which raged outside.

Good Dr. Reiley fought with not only the small quarters, limited light, and the tossing of the ship, but now he had to deal with his own bouts of seasickness.

As he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he quickly gathered up a cup of water to rinse out his mouth and then spit it out. Soon his belly would be empty and the heaving would be painful. He quickly grabbed from his pocket a silver coin and began to suck on it, trying hard to put his stomach to rest.

Lilly shook franticly from her fever. As Mr. Davis held up his lantern Rieley could tell her skin was waxen. “We need to break this fever quickly. Fetch as much wool as you can to cover her. I will see what I can concoct with what I have here. We’ll must make sure that she is comfortable. Get her some water and please make sure that Bess takes her the…”

“John…” Lilly whispered softly. It was barely a whisper. Rieley pulled the coin from his mouth. “What Mistress? What was that?” Asked the good doctor. Lilly’s eyes fluttered open and the dark shadow of the doctor knelt down to hear her better of the rage of the storm. “I must speak with John …Captain Sterling. I must talk with him!” She said in an instant tone so desperately trying to sound strong and determined. Lilly’s voice quivered a bit, as she tried to take another breath, trying so hard to fight the heavy feeling in her chest.

The doctor now looking concern for his patient. “Mistress, you are in no condition right now to talk to anyone. You need your rest and I feel that you would only be upset…” “Damn you! Fetch him! Fetch him now! I will not die this way…not without clearing my conscience first. Do this for me…please!”

Reiely looked over at Mr. Davis. “See to her and keep her quiet. I will summons Captain Sterling, even if I have to drag him from station myself!"

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Heavy white sails snapped against the billowing wind. Crew scattered around the worn deck, hauling against the resisting cloth as La Alma lumbered into a turn. Plumes of wispy white smoke swirled eerily in the enclosed space between the Spaniard and her assailants. The report of cannon fire echoed in the still evening, the rhythmic flash as loads were lit in succession reflecting off the darkening water. The deck underneath shook as the great guns thrust backwards one after the other. Barked orders were barely audible against the thunder of constant fire. As La Alma came round, the loaded side of one of her attackers skirted past, shot pounding against the Spaniard’s stern. The wood shattered from the assault, the force tearing through the aft cabins with ease. Another volley from the opposing direction tore into her full canvas, the sheets flapping aimlessly in the breeze. Another round found a solid target in a foremast, the impact as the beam collapsed sending a shiver through the entire vessel.

The crash jerked Ulises out of his nightmare. He jolted upright, the room around him still rattling from the deafening roll of thunder. Rough hands ran over his weathered face, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow. Nothing but the howling sound of the storm filled the dark space. He sat forward, shoes settling on the worn floor as another rumble shook the small building. His hands settled over his eyes, trying in vane to block the image of La Alma’s disastrous fate. He inhaled sharply as the room shook again from the force of the impending gale. Ulises drew to his full height, wandering back to his vigil at the undersized window. The streets had begun to flood, a swirling darkness surrounding the foundations of the buildings. Several already showed signs of lost roofing and weakening walls. An arch of electricity filled the sky, the light filling the Capitán’s dark face as he continued to impatiently wait out the tempest.

[Captain Striker]

A day passed and the sky was still dark and gloom . Lightning was not seen for a while , thunder could still be heard .The wind had settled down as well , it was still a tempest , but not nearly as strong as a couple of bells before.

she had pulled through a beating of the waves . They had pounded upon her hull the whole night and she refused to go gently into the night without a fight . She had never given up before and nor would she now ! It was simply against her nature , she was a survivor and had pulled through worse things then this.

She felt that the storm had losened it's grip, and she would pull through . She had gotten accustomed to the new crew . First they were her assailents , doing harm upon her . Not anymore now they were a part of her , and she was a part of them.

Nielsen was patching up some of the bruises that she had received. If she could , she would have warned him ! He made a wrong move and lost his hold. She could feel his fright as he fell into the roaring waters . "Mand overbord !" She could hear them yell , but there was nothing to do. Nielsen was being pulled down by Davie himself .

Who would take care of her now ? Who would keep Maligna at float ? Just as the thought ran through her she felt the wind take hold again. The gust came and she felt that one of the gallant yards and some of the rigging was giving in. The yard broke of clean. Making a big noise . It was almost as if she screamed out her pain , as the the yard fell towards the deck.

[Ransom]

Ioan and five other crewmen ran forward to excape as the yard crashed to the deck in a tangle of canvass and sheets. Fortunatly, no one had been seriously injured, and the crew set to work clearing away the mess. They were hampered by the rolling ship, the howling wind, and heavy rain. They barely got things squared away before dark.

Soaked to the skin again, and shivering, Ioan finally was able to go below and get something to eat. Cold mutton and biscuit, as no fire was allowed due to the storm. He hunched in a corner and chewed the waxy, fatty meat, wondering if the ship would survive the gale.

He wondered how the Rakehell was taking the storm. Had she got away soon enough? When he'd come up on deck that morning, she had been gone from the harbor. He'd been angry at first, still feeling unjustly tossed aside by the Captain, but in the end had shrugged it off. The La Maligna was his home now, better make the best of it.

[Captain Striker]

He was trying to relax a little bit , when the crash happened , he had been out most of the night standing watch. Striker felt the quake as the debris hit the deck. What else could have happened , they had already lost their carpenter to the sea .

He quickly rose from the bed and put on his great coat , while in fast motion towards the deck. One of the yards had broken off. He saw Ioan and some other sailors clearing it up. Indeed there was potential in the man. It could be seen as Ioan organised the men , even without speaking their language it seemed that it worked.

[Captain Striker]

As Striker oversaw the clean up .He felt Jane's presence. He turned around and smiled at her .

"As you see we have problems. We are without a carpenter ... And as you are, or rather were ... " He said to her with pleading eyes

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane had fallen asleep curled up in the stiff chair again, the exhaustion of the past few days overwhelming even the uncomfortable position. The ship had returned to her rhythmic sway as they left the majority of the storm behind. The steady roll lulled Jane deep into sleep despite the passing hours. She hadn’t even stirred as Striker had returned from the late watch.

Jane’s eyes opened suddenly as a shuttering creak resonating through La Maligna’s wooden hull followed by a thunderous crash. She was on her feet quickly, the worn wool cap tugged on over her tangled hair.

A sudden gust had torqued the already straining sails. Backstays on the windward side giving way as the unrelenting wind pushed at the hard braced canvas. The foremast’s gallant yard cracked under the pressure, one side wrenching free. The force as it swung loose bringing the attached sheet and additional rigging along with it. The crew had already begun clearing the debris as Jane exited the enclosed cabin. A thin hand cupped over green eyes as her sight drifted up, scanning the barely visible tangle of lines and canvas. It was nearly impossible to tell the extent of damage from the saturated deck. If the tangle of wood & rope was any indication, the repairs would require returning to port.

Dropping her hand, Jane turned, climbing easily to the upper deck. One of the men stood near the captain, gesturing to the larboard rail with a rush of throaty words. Jane’s attention focused on Striker, the creases around his mouth revealing what the foreign tongue couldn’t. She drew to his other side, arms folded habitually across her chest. She continued to watch him expectantly as the crewman walked away.

"As you see we have problems. We are without a carpenter ... And as you are, or rather were ... " He said to her with pleading eyes

“Doesn’t look good sir but I'll do what I can”

[Captain Striker]

"That is all that Maligna and I can ask of you. We need to get back to the Port"

He said while taking off his great coat giving it to a sailor passing by . Telling him to bring it back to his cabin.

" We help each other ! Tell me what to say to the men , and I will pass your orders "

[Liam Finn]

When captain Sterling had said he planned to sail to Virginia, I looked at Ian and he at me. "We never been ta Virginia, I don't think. . . An we be more happy ta work our passage. " Ian looked at me with a funny look on his face as I spoke and added his own voice to what I said. "That is if we can't get ta th La Maligna. . . " I nodded, "Aye, if we can nae get ta the La Maligna. We are able seamen, a bit down on r luck ya see."

[Ransom]

The cold mutton had turned in his stomach, and even the watered-down grog hadn't helped warm him. Ioan thought of the man who had been swept overboard, and shivered anew. He hadn't known the man, but the idea of drowning terrified him. And it had happened so fast. One minute the man was there, going about his business, and the next he was gone, sinking into the depths of a cold sea.

Ioan stood, finished the last of the grog, then returned to the weather deck. It was pitch dark, with no moon or stars showing in the cloud-covered sky. The wind still blew, but he thought the fiercness of it had slackened somewhat.

Striker came up on deck, the woman, now dressed in sailor's togs, with him. As she whipered in his ear to be heard, Striker then barked orderes to the crew. Ioan came up behind the Captain and waited until he was finished giving orders, then said, "You'll have to translate that, sir, if you want me to help."

Ioan decided that, if he was going to stay on the La Maligna for a time, it might be a good idea to learn a little Danish.

[Captain Striker]

"You'll have to translate that, sir, if you want me to help."

Striker heard someone say behind him .He turned around and saw Ioan .

"Aye , we will be needing help to finish repairing the rigging ."

As Ioan noded and walked by Striker put his right hand on his shoulder and said with a smile upon his face , which nearly would be lost in the darkness if it was not for the shine of his tetth .

" Ye did a fine job at organising the men cleaning up the debris , with or without knowledge of Danish!"

[Ransom]

"You'll have to translate that, sir, if you want me to help."

Striker heard someone say behind him .He turned around and saw Ioan .

"Aye , we will be needing help to finish repairing the rigging ."

As Ioan noded and walked by Striker put his right hand on his shoulder and said with a smile upon his face , which nearly would be lost in the darkness if it was not for the shine of his tetth .

" Ye did a fine job at organising the men cleaning up the debris , with or without knowledge of Danish!"

Caught off guard by the compliment, Ioan could only nod his thanks before joining the other men in repairing the storm damaged rigging.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane eyed Ioan as he disappeared into the bustling crew of La Maligna. The cautious words spoken by her crewmate were still fresh in her mind. Her thin brow furrowed, drops of rain running down the sides of her pale face.

“I’d watch ‘im sir” She mumbled, head nodded in Ioan’s direction, almost unaware the words were coming out of her mouth “ tis ’ared ta reform a pirate.”

Her expression shifted quickly, any further question about the Welshman’s trustworthiness buried by a suddenly stern expression. Aware of the captain’s skeptical glance, she cleared her throat, looking to the far side of the rolling ship. The rains had begun to slack, leaving small glimpses of sky behind the grey clouds. She was thankful that the storm was behind them, but remained skeptical about their return to Port Royal.

“Tha men seem ta be handlin’ tha repairs well. I’ll be heading tat ha holds then. See wot yer last chippy left ta werk wif” Instinctively she bowed to the captain before hoping down from upper deck, to lower and finally into the warm dark bowels of the galleon.

[Ransom]

Trilby and Souris had resorted to stuffing rags and rugs against the sills of the doors, as water seeped in from the street. Within an hour, they were sodden messes, and the water crawled across the tiles, seeking the easiest route of escape. With dispare, he watched the level rise, until the two were splashing around ankle deep.

He glansed at the floating globes, hoving in their beeker of oil, and was encouraged to see they had risen slightly since the previous night. "Well, maybe we won't be washed tae the devil after all," he mumbled.

Cleopatra, perched on the stairway to the roof, yowled her disagreement, while keeping an eye out for terrified mice.

Trilby looked up at her. "Sorry, Queenie, but I hae nae control over the weather. Yea must suffer along with your servants, till the tempast be past."

At that moment a gust of wind hit the house, and a roof tile crashed to the street. Trilby smiled at the cat. "And Queenie, yea might put in a good word with those heathen gods of yours, since it appears ours be a bit out of temper at the moment."

But Cleopatra was too intent on the mouse that was running up the stairs thinking it had found save haven from the water. In a blurr of ginger fur, she pounced, sunk in claws, bit into the back of the creatures neck and raced off to the upper floor, the mouse screeching like a banshee.

[Tess St. Claire]

Tess folded her hand as she heard the storm thrash at the windows. The windows leaks as the servants wiped the puddles of water up from the tiled floor.

“I’ve see worse.” Muttered Master Hutchison. “Though this one seems to be full of fight. Come night fall I am sure that it shall pass…as it always does.”

Tess looked back at Hutchinson. He showed his hand. “All hearts, Lady. I win again.” He said with a smirk. “Perhaps I shall cut the deck next time.”

Said Tess looking over at Hutchison’s sleeping wife. Tess nodded her chip towards her and smiled. “I bet she can sleep through anything.” Master Hutchinson’s eyebrow rose. “Almost, my Lady.”

It was then Master Hutchinson’s attention was drawn back to Lady Tess. “So, what of this man, Tess? Who is he?” She lent back in her chair and took a sip of her wine.

“I only mentioned him in passing thinking that he would be of some interest of you. However, I am wondering if I should wait and save him for another time. Perhaps we should start with someone more …lowly in station?”

The middle aged Scots now smiled lightly. “Such as? Come now, Tess. I can obtain lowly any day of the week. If you make it worth my while and I promise to pay back your debt and more.”

“Come now…You mentioned that you like a challenge and by God, I shall give you one. But first, I think I may know where I can find one…if not two who will fit the bill. As soon as this storm passes I shall start with my inquires." And with that Tess took another sip of wine.

[Capt. Sterling]

Ian looked at me with a funny look on his face as I spoke and added his own voice to what I said. "That is if we can't get ta th La Maligna. . . " I nodded, "Aye, if we can nae get ta the La Maligna. We are able seamen, a bit down on r luck ya see."

"Aye," Sterling sighed. "I can certainly understand yer position." He paused, raking drenched hair back out of his eyes once again. "I will consider takin ye both on as crew. My men will testify that we run a fair ship here, and if ye work hard, and with a bit of luck, ye can do well for yerselves. Once the storm passes, I will see what I can do to bring ye about to the La Maligna, if not, I shall let ye chose yer path to be sent back to port or stay on board. In the meantime, ye can stay put here, as my... guests. Unfortunately the supper will be a cold one tonight. Now ye must forgive me, I must take my leave and return to attending to my ship and crew."

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane had spent the remainder of her waking hours exploring the cavernous holds of the galleon. The former carpenters tools were collected, the scattered lot of metal and wood dumped in an empty chest. She was well aware of the crew’s sideways glances and muttered questions as she acquainted herself with the ship. Undoubtedly some of them had seen her with the Captain, some may even see beyond the rough sailor’s clothes. In any other situation Jane would have set them straight, stifled any of their questions before rumors began to spread. It was something Joseph had taught her, she couldn’t afford to let anyone question her if the disguise was to be effective. With the Danes though, all she could do was nod any time she passed, the language barrier preventing further interaction. She found herself strangely uncomfortable around the crew. She retreated with the chest of tools to a dim corner of the orlop deck, finding some measure of comfort in the solitude. The flickering candle that accompanied her slowly melted into a waxy puddle as she picked through the handed down tools.

Jane hefted each piece experimentally, scowling at a thick stemmed froe before setting it aside to adjust for her own hands later. The pile of mallets was rifled through, an iron banded beetle mallet tucked into her belt. Handfuls of rough forged nails were poured into her waistcoat pockets. It felt odd to use someone else’s tools again, almost like when she had first joined the Anna Rae. At the time everything felt foreign, the tools, the food, the constant motion of the ship. In nearly two years she had grown accustomed to life on the water, even come to prefer it to life on land. She had grown stronger, learned what she needed to and proven herself worthy of the job she was given. Yet the new surroundings brought back all those early anxieties. Her stomach tensed, the bitter taste in her mouth reminding her of those early nerve wracking days aboard the merchantman. When the ache didn’t subside Jane realized she couldn’t remember the last thing she had eaten. With a sigh she rose from her secluded corner, kicking the loaded chest closed before turning her attention to the nagging hunger.

[Ransom]

As Ioan went below to stow the tattered sail, he met the woman, Jane, comeing up. He'd heard her whispered comment to Striker about pirates, and felt he'd better set her straight. Shifting the burden under his arm, he blocked her way, his dark eyes searching her face.

"Best get one thing clear, miss. The Rakehell took me on in Charles Town when I was needin' a quick escape. I didn't ask what type a ship she were, nor do I care. I'm off her now, and mean to make a place for myself, just as you be doing. Everyone has somthing to hide, and I'd guess you be no different. So, no reason to be making enemies of each other when there's no purpose to it."

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane had to stop short to avoid running into Ioan as he stowed a shredded canvas. She eyed him carefully as he spoke, her shoulders squared, arms folding together defensively. There was something about the Welshman that didn’t sit well with her. She couldn’t pinpoint whether it was his former ship or the timing of his appearance that concerned her more. Maybe it was as simple as the veiled disdain in his dark eyes every time he looked at her, it was a look she had become well acquainted with in her younger years. Despite Striker’s trusting nature, Jane vowed to keep her eyes on Ioan.

“So long as what er yer hidin doesn’t put tha captain in danger, then we won’t ‘ave any problems sir.” Her feet shifted on the creaking boards as the ship rolled beneath them. The gnawing hunger in her stomach was suddenly gone, buried by self-protective instincts. “Now if ye’ll be movin so I ken get back ta me work.”

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian sat in deep contemplation of what had been whispered by Basque form. The child, long asleep in cradled embrace, stirred lightly then resumed former pursuit unruffled. Chosen shelter had come to resemble a paddock packed full on market day. Though it had not become unbearable, one would be hard pressed to traverse its' length without careful effort.

Occasionally, Sabastian would break lethargically from inner meditations; dark eyes traveling the surrounds as they had for the endurance of many hours. Oil lamp glow would caress lupin features with lover's touch, daring the deep brown fall of unrestrained tress. Christophe kept steadfast silence after initial announcement to Beggar Prince, his stoic poise now and again being disrupted by the shadows of his thoughts; water pool gathering about his seating as if in primal worship.

Andre' passed close with intermittent timing, his eyes and that of sibling's locking briefly without offer of verbose, before Rye's onward moving. Any confrontation would be stymied until later time and different local.

Wind and rain continued intrepid desire to gain entrance within. Aqua battering ram sure on its' intents and air howling ever encouragement. Youthful Charge stirred again, shifting slightly in the claws of some unknown dreamscape. Sabastian moved carefully, repositioning tender burden, his eyes caught by the sight of remaining Sheas.

The play of light and shadow gave slight start to his mind's eye as focus was drawn to Niahm. It could have been said that swarth tinctured features paled a degree.

On the stage presented, as the Tempest worked hard to show its' rule, illuminations and their darker counterparts, painted ghostly likeness of Molly, now departed, on the canvas of seven and ten year expression.

Eternity passed before he found the ability to exhale.

[Ransom]

Ioan moved aside as much as the narrow passage would allow. Jane continued on her way upstairs, but not before Ioan had read the distrust in her eyes. He felt anger stir, sure that she'd put in bad words about him to the captain. Hadn't she already done so? And why? He'd helped them escape the Spaniards, helped bring Striker back to the ship, even been nursemaid while Striker and Sterling had their little conference. So what had he done to earn her distrust? And most interesting of all, where had she heard that the Rakehell was a pirate vessel?

He continued on his way into the belly of the ship, stowed the section of ripped sail, then returned to the deck to see what else needed doing. All the while he kept thinking that the woman's mannor was much as his own - on guard. So, what dirty little secret was she hiding?

[Captain Striker]

La Maligna was turning around and heading back towards the Port with Striker behind the helm and Lauritzsen beside him.

Maligna was still beaten up and needed to be repaired as she strugled to keep herself behind the storm that had course straight ahead for Maligna's destination.

[Ransom]

I stood at the helm, watching the sea's rage slowly receed, although she was still in a foul temper. The wind howled about the rigging, but the Rakehell fled before it quick and neat as a dancer. We'd managed to get behind the storm with only minor damage, and although we'd gone nearly twenty four hours without sleep, were wet to the bone, and shivering, we were elated to be free from the worst of the hurricane.

I'd had one brief moment to check the cargo, and was pleased that not too much water had found its way below. Africa had thrown old canvass over the powder crates, and the boxes of shot and muskets had been lashed down with care, so all was well with them.

A cask of wine had fallen and split open, giving the hold the ripe smell of burgundy. Floating in the muck were little islands of biscuit from an overturned tin. If that was the worst of our losses, I would be grateful. It could have been much worse.

Africa came up from below and handed me a bit of dried meat. It was tough as boot-leather, but welcome.

"How long befo' we make it back to Port Royal?" he asked.

I won't know until the sky clears a bit. I need to take bearings, find out exactly where we are, before I'll know when we'll be back."

The big man looked to the heavens, still dark with cloud. "Dat don look to be happenin' soon, I think."

"Probably not, but we'll stay on our present course. If we're lucky, we'll make it back to Port Royal before any of Spains fine war ships find us."

Africa grinned wide. "Ah don think no Spaniards be catchin' dis ship. She too quick, an' her captain be too smart."

"That might be true, but I'll feel better when the sky clears and I can figure out where the hell we are."

[Capt. Sterling]

The eye of the storm had finally captured the seas surrounding the Archangel. As the winds died and the waves stilled, the sun slowly came to peek through the dissipating clouds. Sterling had quickly made his rounds, listening to damage reports and thanking God that with the first onslaught past, the ship had held her own and done so well. He made his way to look in upon the actress and found her sleeping restlessly, Dr. Reiley making his own damage report regarding his patient. Sterling listened intently, asking the doctor to continue to do his best and to send for him when Lilly woke.

“I’d best be having a look at your shoulder as well,” Reiley remarked.

“Later,” Sterling replied and then made his way to his cabin.

After the initial shock of finding his wife attired in his own clothes, and then allowing his laughter to fade, he took Aurore by the hand and led her up on deck. The calmness of the seas and the beauty of the Eye, were breath taking to him.

“See Chere,” he whispered to her, one arm placed protectively and comfortingly around her shoulders. “Tis it not a wonderful thing to behold?”

[Aurore Devareaux]

Aurore's senses were on fire, instinctually reaching out to gage the unknown. What was currently viewed in proxy could be called no less than inspiring...Yet, in distant view lurked the next line of charge. Her thoughts turned inland, and the welfare of those held dear gnawed at the core of her soul.

Suddenly overwhelmed by combinations of the ship's motion and unsettled nerves, Aurore broke away from attentive husband, gaining closest rail. Her stomach had not overmuch to offer the sea below, but what was given bore earnest intention.