Port Royal, Jamaica

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling continued on a bit, reining down to a hand gallop and then finally brought the Chestnut to a trot, before he turned it around and headed back the way he had come. As splendid creature slowed to a well deserved walk, shake of head was given, sending curb chain to jingling a moment. The captain leaned forward and patted the sleek neck favorably, the thought of possibly purchasing the horse had now crossed his mind rather seriously. It would certainly take well to hunting in Ireland. He resumed his seat and allowed the horse to walk on at a loose rein and found his path now blocked by a very occupied sedan chair.

"Have a care," he shouted to the carriers, he did not wish to delay much further before catching up to his wife. Eventually, she might actually notice him missing. He waited a moment as the chair made its way to the side permitting him room enough to pass. He did so at his own ease, or rather at his mount's and as he came along side a man of some quality, he leaned down and whispered loud enough for all to hear, "I am not in the least intoxicated sir, nor do my crew think me rash, a bit mad perhaps," then sat upward. "Bad vision, grand hearing," he added with a smirk, then winked at the lady within the chair. Once more he leaned forward, focusing his attention upon occupant. "John Sterling, milady. Captain of the Archangel. Yer servant, m'am."

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

Lady Violet inspected the man through narrowed eyes, while trying to stifle Sugar, who barked like something rabid. "You, Sir, are impertinent, and a danger to the road. You could have run down someone, not to mention injured your fine animal, who probably has more sense than you posses. I should adivse you to have more care, and although you profess to not being in your cups, you do a fine job of making everyone esle think you are roaring drunk."

She placed her hand around the dog's yapping jaw, then snaped at the plantation manager. "Do go on, Mr. Kennedy. I've no desire to talk to ruffians, whether they be Captains or not." She turned her gaze back to the man on horseback. "I suspect, Mr. Sterling, that you are not a captain, for I doubt anyone would trust such a foolish lout with a ship. Good day, sir!"

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling broke out into a loud laugh. Lord, the woman reminded him of his stepmother.

"Impertinent says thee? Aye, thy kind would view it in such a manner. Mayhaps I shall continue in such a fashion says I," he chuckled. Then he did continue, being the gentleman and not wishing to disappoint her.

"Truly Madame thee know little about horses. Why I'd wager this little fellow could clear six feet with ease. And since the docks be nearly empty with the passing of the storm, except for thee and thine, I would easily prove it if someone were to erect such an obstacle. As to someone else entrusting me with a ship, I own mine free and clear even with out Lord Sterling's past willingness to contribute to his son's foolish behavior." He tipped his hat. "Do give my regards to Sir Albert. Tell him Johnny or, if thee prefer, Sir John Sterling sends greetings. He'll know me well enough as one of those rash, impertinent, and reckless privateers that sail as protector to one of his merchant vessels fat with valuable goods." His green eye flashed with amusement and further mischief. "But then again, perhaps I shall make mine felicitations known myself for, if I reckon correctly, my new properties boarder the lands of the Trade Winds. Prime real estate, what?"

He collected his reins once more and with a slight adjustment of seat, gently urged the Chestnut forward and passed the sedan chair. Breaking into a slow canter, Chestnut proved it too was ready to move on.

"Shall I send in the coin for ye tomorrow then?" Sterling said soothingly to the animal. "A new home for ye and mayhaps all the sugar cane treats that would be safe for ye to consume, compliments of the next door neighbors?" He leaned forward with another pat, smoothing gloved hand along silky neck. With gentle pressure he urged mount into gallop once again and steered for where he had last seen Aurore and the others. Give him thieves, whores and the most middling of sorts any day over the company of his father's ilk. Perhaps he should send note to Tess St. Claire of Lady Cunninghams' arrival... they would certainly see things eye to eye.

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

"Why, that man is rude beyond belief!" Mr. Kennedy huffed.

"Oh, do be quiet." Lady Violet waved an impatient hand, while her mind put together the pieces of the interesting conversation.

So, she thought, Lord Sterling's by-blow is in Port Royal. And, she observed, acting as arrogant as his father. Bastard he might be, but the apple had apparently not fallen far from the parental tree. Lady Violet had always found Lord Sterling to be an insufferable bore, and was well aware of the fact that his wife had never accepted the boy, even after her own had died and the illigitimate son put in his place.

And what was that bit about owning land next to Trade Winds? No one owned land next to Trade Winds, other than the Devareaux clan. What on earth could Lord Sterling's son have to do with them? It was a mystery she would take great pleasure in unraveling.

Patting Sugar on the head, she settled back in the sedan chair, greatly looking forward to her stay in Jamaica, which had already started on such an exciting note. She couldn't wait to tell her dear husband, Albert, all about it."

[sirhenrymorgan]

My time in Port Royal had been disrupted with word from the plantation from my dear wife Mary Elizabeth that there were matters of urgency to tend to there. I left immediately by horseback, foregoing the rough carriage ride which would have slowed my progress immensely.

The trip to Llanrumney was not an easy one. The mountainous terrain that led there was passable only by a patchwork of dirt paths. To call it a road would be folly. Once past the gates of Port Royal, anything resembling a road quickly disappeared as one road down the Palisadoes and onto the mainland.

Two days were to pass before reaching Llanrumney. I was just in time. The matters of the plantation were of little matter as I could see from the vantage point that a storm was rapidly approaching the island. A sea of grey and black hovered near the horizon and drew closer every day. I had seen such clouds before - the forebearer of a tempest that would no doubt reach the island soon.

I sent instructions to my manager to prepare the plantation for a heavy blow and then renewed by acquaintance with my wife.

I couldn't help but wonder what would transpire in my absence from town, knowing that the low lay of the land there could have some dire consequences for my many friends and associates there.

-- Sir Henry

[Cheeky Actress]

After Bess assisted Lilly in getting dressed, Lilly made it topside, the deck was now filled with weary crew. After these long two days, Lilly was now finally feeling her old self again and with it, she was bound and determined to make inquires of the whereabouts of Captain Sterling. Lilly’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of the late morning sun. “Here…you there.” She shouted at the Boson. “Where is the Captain?” The Boson looked puzzled at first as the lady addressed him is such a manner. “Captain? Oh yes…the Captain!” He exclaimed as he took off his hat and bowed low. “He went to shore more than an hour ago, Mistress. Is there a message?” Lilly pursed her lips and gave the Boson a sour look. “Yes.” She said then turned towards the shore. “I wish to go home.”

[Ransom]

After the crew and I had eaten a quantity of grilled fish, and drank down half a cask of Port, I gave orders that on the next tide, the ship would leave this un-named haven from the hurricane and head back to Port Royal.

I found myself wondering how Professor Trilby had survived the storm, and also if my missing cook, Goose, had found shelter.

To my surprise, I also found myself hoping that Sebastian had survived the tempest, and it wasn't only because our business transaction had been so abruptly interrupted by mother nature. I felt it would be a shame if the posseser of those fathomless dark eyes had been swept to his death before he was able to reach high ground.

It might also explain why I was now in such haste to return to that Port, and discover for myself just what the cost of the hurricane had been.

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

When Lady Violet's little party reached the Royal Grace Inn, Mr. Kennedy rushed to help her from the sedan chair and open the inn door. Once across the threshold, she was greeted by a tall, cadaverous-looking man she didn't recognize.

"Where is Mr. Wheatly, the proprietor?" Lady Violet demanded, as three servant boys came to assist with her baggage.

The man bowed, and folded his hands together as if in prayer. "I regret to inform your Ladyship, that Mr. Wheatly has shed his earthly shell, he has pierced the dark veil, he now basks in the glory—"

"What the devil are you driveling on about?"

"Dead, your Ladyship. Died of fever and the bloody flux not six months ago. I am Mr. Wheatly's cousin, Mr. Spindlethorpe, and am now the proud owner of the Royal Grace."

Lady Violet had the sudden suspicion that her stay at the Royal was going to be even more dreary than previously expected. "Well, in that case, I will relate to you my immediate requirements. I desire hot water and clean towels, fresh bedding, lunch, preferably fish, and a decanter of Irish whiskey."

Mr. Spindlethorpe's shoulders drooped further, and he answered in funereal tones, "I am devastated to inform your Ladyship that we have no Irish whiskey."

"There are Irishmen in Port Royal, are there not?"

"A veritable warren of them, your Ladyship."

"Then there will be Irish whiskey. I suggest you find some."

"I shall leave no corner of Port Royal unsearched until it can be procured for your Ladyship."

The man's graveside tone was grating on Lady Violet's nerves. However, there was one more bit of business needing her attention. "I observe there are very few ships in the harbor."

"Most likely due to the storm, My Lady. Those that have not been sunk will return shortly."

"I am looking for one ship in particular, Mr. Spindlethorpe, which is currently not in Port Royal."

"If you would but give me the name of the vessel which holds your interest, I will post a boy at the docks to watch for it, and inform your Ladyship of its arrival."

Lady Violet gave him the name, then headed for the stairs leading to the first floor rooms. She paused halfway up and addressed Mr. Spindlethorpe one last time. "And pray, don't be too long with that whiskey."

[Dan Reid]

as the storm winds abated Captain MacCraig left the confines of the church after lighting a candle for his departed brother. He made his way down the beach with the little dog in tow to see what the storm had left of his precious ship.

The storm had washed her further up the beach and she lay listing hard to larboard. Her mizzen was dangling from the rigging and all the sails were missing. She was a real wreck. He noticed the footprints of his crew leading from the jungle and was dismayed to find so few imprints upon the sand. He knew they would return again soon.

"At least some o' the lads survived the blow" he stated to the little dog who looked up at him expectantly and then wandered off to inspect the nearby beach.

MacCraig grabbed a dangling line and hoisted himself to the slanted deck. With a tired sigh, he removed his coat and began the arduous task of clearing the wreckage from the deck. He noted sadly that it would take many months work to make the "Reiver" sea worthy again.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane shifted uncomfortably, her slumber disturbed by an insistent buzzing. She batted at the bothersome sound, clinging to the last shred of sleep she could before her eyes finally opened. She squinted, half awake, into the flickering lamp light of the lower deck. In front of her a pale haired boy stood, anxiously shaking her arm, a string of rushed Danish flowing from his mouth. Jane’s brow furrowed as the lad repeated himself, speaking louder but only slightly slower. The foreign tongue fell on dead ears. The most Jane could make of his speech was something that sounded similar to Port Royal and a word that was to close to Captain to be anything else. She gestured at the boy that she understood, at least partially, while climbing stiffly to her feet. He scampered ahead of her slow steps, the light bobbing along with him. Jane instantly noticed how smooth the ship felt under her shuffling feet. As her head cleared the hatch it instantly tipped back, a broad smile curving her lips at the gray, but rain free sky.

“Captain Striker” Jane bowed habitually as she approached. She knew the move was pointless but the manners she had learned as a sailor were hard to forget. She nodded just as formally to Ioan, who hovered at the captain’s other side. As she stood straight her eyes passed beyond the two men to the slip of land they approached.

“Mother o Saints!” The exclamation slipped past her pale lips before she had a chance to stop them. Green eyes focused on the storm wracked shore. Even from their distance, Jane could see the destruction. Roofs missing, walls collapsed, every waterfront building sat at least knee deep in a thick combination of mud, sand and sea. She swallowed heavily, sharp teeth tugged at her lower lip. Anxious thoughts of her crew mates in the tavern and the Anna, tethered to the unrelenting dock throughout the tempest filled her mind. After a long, silent moment Jane felt two sets of eyes on her, one bright and amused, the other dark and questioning. Her throat cleared loudly, shoulders setting back with regained confidence.

“Might I suggest, sir, weighing out in tha bay afore headin in ta tha yards. If they’re still there that is.” She added under her breath, eyes drifting back to the battered port.

[Ransom]

Ioan wasn't as shocked as the others by the damage the hurricane had done to Port Royal. He'd survived one before, and was glad he'd been out to sea this time. As the La Maligna made to drop anchor, he looked around for the Rakehell, but didn't see her. There were not too many ships in the harbor, and those that had remained showed some form of damage. He noticed one ship had been blown up on shore and lay canted over, as if being careened. The only ships to appear untouched by the storm, were the Archangel and a merchant brig called the Sweet Temptation.

He busied himself with securing the ship at anchor, then turned to Captain Striker to see what orders would be given. The woman, Jane, seemed quite distraught at the damage on shore, although she tried to hide it.

He gestured toward the ravaged docks. "Don't worry, miss. In a couple of weeks, you won't be able to tell there ever was a hurricane. These people know how to deal with and recover from the destruction. You'll see."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The blow was as hard as it was precise, landing with finite accuracy against the resistance of angled bone and flesh. A bright flash clouded vision momentarily with the dance of faux celestial bodies and suspended gravity of fleeting freefall sensation washed over the reflex of feline agility. With half spin of torso following cranial lead, soft soled boots staggered haphazard, suddenly unfamiliar with familiar ground and it was the mutable soft but hard catch of another that ceased dazed backwards travel.

There were four, in total, occupying the small copse of trees....Roi, Dauphine, Killer and Thief. The First gave impression that no movement had been made; the Second hung precariously, griped just under the arms in act of support by the Fourth; the Third looked almost impassive...but looks could be very well an act of deception. Silence hung heavy the surround in unearthly bearing, and even equine companions, faithful bearers of the Four, stood in some sense of dumbstruck mute.

When verbose broke the quiet, it was with low and controlled tone; but deep bellow such surface lay a beast wishing release. Elder measured Younger with stoic visage, giving no hint to what boiled below. Dark eyes scrutinized the appearance of crimson streak that lazily traversed the aquiline terra from slight fullness of lip.

"What have you done?....."

Sabastian righted himself, shaking off Christophe's support, " What you never would. "

"Where is she?"

"Safe..."

" Ou est, Camille? "

As reply, Beggar Prince turned, moving away from sibling's glare and onward to awaiting mount.

" Arretez!"

The demand fell on deaf ears as saddle was gained and Noir turned. Sabastian held mount in check, jaw line throbbing with steady pulse as he gazed upon Elder. "We are no longer in Navarre, that is the past. You may wish to hold on to it, but all I can recall is the abuse, the misery, the taunts and strife. If that is what you wish to hold onto, then you are welcome to it. I wish for happiness and peace, I wish to see Renard in good keeping, to enjoy life for all that it has to offer. Our ways will do us no service in this new world..."

Slightest touch was issued to inky sides, followed by cadence of harness bell and strike of hoof on sodden ground.

[Capt. Sterling]

The ride back to the new house was quiet … at least for Sterling. Aurore remained engaged in conversation with Debois, soft tones, the man often glancing back ward over his shoulder. Sterling attempted to ignore him in return, making faces at Meagan until the child began to tire with the journey. When they arrived home, protective boarding was hastily removed after quick glance told there was no major damage to the main building, only a few broken panes of glass and a missing pair of shutters. Meagan was carried inside and put to bed as Aurore followed along to oversee the tucking in of their young charge.

Sterling turned the Chestnut about, deciding to ride the fence line of the lower paddock, the stables in shambles from a fallen tree. The animals would have to be turned out, until he could afford to replace the structure.

The sun was high in the clear sky before he was content with repairs and once the Chestnut had been watered, he, along with the others were turned out to graze for the evening. Sterling watched awhile as the new addition made introductions with the rest of the horses, delicate ears pitched forward as curious breaths snorted in anxious greeting. He stripped off his coat, already the heat of land compared to the cool breezes of the ocean, was becoming overwhelming. It would be nigh impossible to sleep that night, but then, he knew all too well the remedy for such situations. Fanning himself with his broad brimmed hat, he finally made his way toward the house, intent on finding the port wine and his own bedroom.

[Ransom]

Professor Angus Trilby had spent the day taking inventory of the storm's damage. Luckily, he hadn't fared too badly. None of his books or papers had been lost, which was the most important concideration. The house was missing a few roof tiles, and water had leaked into his upstairs bedroom, creating a soggy puddle in the middle of his fine damask counterpane. Water had also seeped in under the doors at both the front and back of the house, which Souris was in the process of mopping up.

More importantly to Angus, was the condition of his outside furness. He had inspected it as soon as possible, pulling away from it's stout belly a broken chair, a lady's sodden hat, and a dead seagull. To his relief it had survived without damage. Water had soaked the cold coals within, but the sturdy brick chimney still pointed bravely at the now sunny sky. His experiments could continue without interruption.

With a sigh of contentment, Angus had returned to the house.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Aurore watched without comment, as Husband and Chestnut vanished into the lands that surrounded home. She gave no way to the confusion which swam her thought process, simply stood on main entrance stoop as rider and mount departed near proximity. Mental focus drifted to the well being of kith and kin, there had been no word since the initial contact with Seth and Devon. And it was Devon's revelation's that tugged the recesses of her mind now.

The soft intonation of Dubois' query drew her attention to the present; turning her away from the outdoors and back into dwelling. Liquid of rouge tincture lay within crystal confine, extended in offering by escort. Aurore smiled appreciation than motioned towards the drawing room. The Frenchman shifted his weight as if in deliberation, than nodded accord.

Conversation flowed as it had on the road; she grateful for the distraction, he grateful for the company of one who understood his philosophies. Gently time rolled forward as soliel traversed afternoon skies and shadows shifted Drawing Room with eased turn from Point A to Point B. One decanter then two were put to rest when the hour of day occurred to those of comfortable aquaint.

Water was drawn, sacrificed to large cauldron for heating. Temperatures reaching desired peak, it was transported above and into noble copper basin. Waiting, with ever patience, for Rider's return...

[Capt. Sterling]

He was careful to shut the front door with ease, resulting in a lack of noise to announce his return. Coat and hat were ungraciously deposited on the hall table before he made his way past the drawing room and on to the dining room. He was grateful that his blind side did not prohibit his viewing Aurore still in discussion with Sterling’s newest acquaintance from le Cour’s troupe. He did not say a word, but found himself gnawing on the inside of his lower lip as he continued onward, moving about the table to where the port remained, undisturbed, since their flight before the storm. He snatched up the bottle and a glass then headed for the stairs.

Gaining second floor, he first kicked off one shoe than the next as he walked along the hallway. He knew well enough that the large room at the end was where they had spent their first night together and he decided to allow his wife to keep it as her own… after all, twas the largest of all the rooms above, with a proper sitting area, and would suit Aurore well enough when conducting court with her minions. He opened the first door to his right, peeked in and found Meagan sound asleep. Obviously this would not do. Quietly he reclosed the door and moved on to the next room. It was small but still spacious. Anything was spacious compared to his quarters aboard the ‘Angel he thought to himself. It would do him well enough. He entered and closed the door behind him, threw open the two windows, removed his waistcoat and small sword, then poured himself the first of many glasses of Port for the night.

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

Her room at the Royal Grace was better than Lady Violet had expected, if she ignored the vile odor wafting in through the open windows. Her maid quickly laid out a change of clothes, and as soon as the hot water and towels were delivered, Lady Violet washed, and was dressed in something looser and more comfortable.

There was a rap on the door, and with her permission, Mr. Kennedy stepped into the room. "Is there anything esle you require, My Lady? If not, then I desire to ride to Trade Winds and inform Lord Cunningham of your safe arrival in Port Royal."

"No, I require nothing more, other than that you delay your departure for another hour. I wish to write my dear Albert a letter, which you can deliver for me."

"Certainly, My Lady." Mr. Kennedy bowed and left the room.

Lady Violet made herself comfortable at a small writing desk, dipped pen to ink, and composed her letter.

The Royal Grace Inn

Port Royal, Jamaica

My dearest Albert,

As Mr. Kennedy has no doubt informed you, I have arrived safe and well in Port Royal. I must commend to you the Captain and crew of the Sweet Temptation, who were exemplary in their duties both to me and to the ship.

I feel certain you will be interested to hear that, upon my arrival in port, I had a very annoying encounter with Lord Sterling's son by that woman of the streets. A most rude gentleman, and Mr. Kennedy was convinced the man was drunk. His reckless actions most certainly confirmed in my mind that it could be so. I also observed that he has been rash before, as he has received an injury to his left eye and has lost the use of it. But what I feel you will find most distressing, is that the man had the effrontery to inform me that we were neighbors, and that he might pay a call at Trade Winds. I cannot conceive how that could be possible, as the Devareauxs own all the land next to Trade Winds, and what possible connection could the Sterlings, sire or cub, have with them?

On a business note, I would advise you, dear husband, to contact the proprietor of the Royal Grace and arrange to sell him some cases of Irish whiskey from the shipment aboard the Sweet Temptation. I was most distressed to discover there was not a drop to be found in this establishment, and that Mr. Spindlethorpe, the new owner, had need to comb Port Royal in order to provide me with a decanter.

I remain your adoring wife,

Violet

[CrazyCholeBlack]

He gestured toward the ravaged docks. "Don't worry, miss. In a couple of weeks, you won't be able to tell there ever was a hurricane. These people know how to deal with and recover from the destruction. You'll see."

"Hum, 'these people'?" Jane's green eyes halted their continued survey of the shore, turning questioningly to the Welshman at her side. The puzzled expression only lasted a moment as her thoughts cleared. "Oh, tha city, Port Royal. Aye."

Red cap covered head nodded slightly as she stepped away from Ioan without further comment. Long steps brought her along side Captain Striker where he stood overseeing the bustle of his crew. He made no motion to acknowledge her other than the slight upward curve of his lips as she stepped to his side.

"Captain, I should like ta go ashore wif tha first boat, if I may. I only need a day, at tha most. I ken see bout bringing La Maligna inta tha yards an," she paused in her request biting anxiously at her lip.

She had been watching the shore line intently for any sign of the Anna Rae since first coming on deck, to no avail. Despite the hardship, Jane still felt tied to that rotting hulk of a ship. She only needed to see the ruined merchantman for herself in order to break the last of that connection. Striker's blue eyes glanced down at her, reading the thoughts she couldn't put into words. A flash of doubt crossed his handsome features.

Jane's voice dropped to nearly a whisper, eyes locking with his, a tone of sincerity behind her words. "I promise ta come back this time."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian cut thru the upper lands as short cut to The Port. He thought tostop briefly at Royal Grace Inn, a layover to serve two purposes. The first would be to request from private stores an aged bottle of magic qualities with hope of dulling the love tap by older sibling. The second order would be that in the time lapse occurring, Christophe would catch up.

A cursory glance was cast to the ships moored in harbour's parameter, hesitating briefly on the familiar lines of floating powder keg. Beggar Prince almost smiled as her owner's image came to mind, but was cut short by the fact that smiling was not a comfortable action currently.

Turning the Noir into one of many byways, chosen destination was achieved and back door gained. A shadow playing tag with shadows, Sabastian took seating in preferred local, surveying the structure's interior survival of recent storm and waited, with ever patience, the appearance of Spindlethorpe.

Confrontation One had been handled deftly, although it did not pass without a price. Unconsciously, the swelling was tested with careful fingers, bringing an expression of displeasure to lupine features. There was sure to be a Second encounter and he doubted, by far, that it would prove any more pleasurable than the first.

A flurry of nervous movement caught peripheral view as quary desired returned to Common Room,

"Monsieur Spindlethorpe...." vocalization, like articulated smoke in smoothed hailing, drifted to Prop's ears; conjuring full stop.

[Capt. Sterling]

An hour later, he hated feeling as he did. He poured himself another glass of port, holding the bottle upside down as he waited for every last drop to slowly make its way down the sleek curves of the bottle’s interior. With one last shake, he finally settled the empty container down upon the bedside table. He would have to make his way downstairs for another, a task he did not relish. He brought the glass to his lips, his nose wrinkling up at the smell of it. Honestly he had, had enough but he quickly polished off the glass and closed his eyes. He could not remember the last time he had actually sipped something to enjoy it. Briefly his thoughts fixed on the warmth of the drink, and how it added to his weariness, the liquid haze clouding over his brain. Soon enough he would not hate the way he felt, he would not even care.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes. It took him a moment longer to focus, his damaged vision all the worse thanks to the wine. His thoughts lingered dangerously on his condition. Damnation but he still felt the anger boil up inside him for what the Turks had done to him. And yet the one person he could never forgive for allowing it all to happen was himself. He had been caught where his ship did not belong. He had misjudged his enemy and his crew had been murdered because of it. By God his crew had been made up of good men and he had let them all down. Surely the Turks were not truly to blame, only himself. He was the one that should have been killed, not just maimed and left to constantly remember what a fool he had been and still was...

He stood to his feet, left the room, sword in tow, fetching his shoes from where they had landed and made his way downstairs. He entered the dining room, only one more bottle of port was to be found. This he took with him as he made his way down the hall to the front door. As he past the drawing room, now on his blind side, he announced that he was going out and, as he had half expected, received no reply. For a second he felt tempted to turn his head to look and see if Aurore was indeed still seated upon the sofa, conversing with Dubois. He fought down the temptation, snatched up his hat and coat and wandered back out to the lower field.

It would not take him long to retack the Chestnut. Perhaps one of his officers would be out at one of the taverns and in need of some hard liquor as well. He decided to try his luck at The Three Crownes, then cursed himself, knowing all too well that he did not believe in luck of any kind.

[Ransom]

As the Rakehell sailed carefully into Port Royal harbor, I surveyed the damage done by the storm. It was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. Once the ship was secure, I gave orders to Africa and the men to guard her, then went ashore to look for my missing cook, Goose.

I found him, snug and dry in the cottage behind the stable, keeping the stableman company, and both drunk on cheap wine. The cannon sat where I had left it, untouched by the weather. So, I thought, Sebastian still had his little French toy to collect.

The Rakehell had drawn near to Kingston, but the wharf and buildings had been nearly wiped out. There was no way for anyone to unload cargo, assuming anyone was left to do so. The only recourse was to anchor in Port Royal, leave a message at the bookstore, and wait.

Before doing so, however, there was one more person I wanted to see. So leaving Goose with his companion, I headed toward the house of Professor Angus Trilby.

[Aurore Devareaux]

"Cognac, s'il vous plait, Monsieur Spindlethorpe...."

The receiver of request bobbed his head in acknowldgement, started to turn then paused. The cogs of mental process could almost be heard in the other's cranial boundaries, and he took a tentative step closer. From the semi-dim of chosen perch, Sabastian raised a brow slightly and read the proprietor's demeanor. The other edged a bit closer, eyes darting the immediate before lowering his voice.

Business was business, and business was founded on reputation. Reputation could be made or destroyed by those in elite classes and what Spindlethrope needed at the moment, was the procurement of proper Aul Mountain Dew. What had been found would surfice....almost. But the man wished to impress the Lady of the House taking up temporary residence aloft....

Words were spoken in soft tones, tithe was created , accords made.... Cognac was quickly handed over to rightful owner.

[Capt. Sterling]

Although The Three Crownes was open for business, truly what tavern could ever remain closed for an extended period of time, not one face appeared familiar to him. Exhausted from battling the hurricane, his crew and officers had most likely remained on board.

Sterling frowned and thought about shoving off to search through a different pub. Instead he reckoned himself poor company at best, paid for a bottle of rum and a pipe and hid himself in the back corner of the common room. His head already much cleared from the ride in, he ordered something to eat as well as he took his seat. He filled the tankard that had accompanied the bottle and drank half before he leaned back, resting both feet upon the table top. Lighting the pipe quickly followed suit and he drew deeply once the tobacco had begun its slow burn. Already the tavern area was filling with folks who were both relieved to find themselves free once more to roam about safely, at least as far as the weather was concerned, and excited to launch into their own renditions regarding their experiences with the passing storm. As tales proceeded, exaggerations increased as one bloke tried to out talk his companions. Sterling felt like a good laugh at the expense of those he eavesdropped upon, but thought better of it, as the first tankard, now completely drained, allowed the cloud to circumnavigate his faculties once again.

[Cheeky Actress]

The light of day now dimly faded into twilight. The sky now shown bright orange and pink while warm evening breeze swept in from the harbor. With hood, cape and vizzard, she continued to walk up the muddied street. The Boson was kind enough to succumb to her demands of being placed back on shore after an hour of her ranting which drove the poor man and half his crewe mad. She knew that she had to get back to town one last time to retrieve her possessions and to secure a voyage home to England.

As Mistress Lilly made her way towards the Three Crown Inn, a man and a woman rushed by her. The man and his whore made their way to one of the much shoddy stick framed houses near the harbor. For a moment, she thought he may have recognized her, but she was mistaken. She fancied this new trend of fashion, this disguise that made her life bearable. To her, it was almost liberating knowing that she could move about towne without a care of being scene or being scene with whomever she liked. This night, she had made it a custom to dress in her dark blue gown and caplet to hide away from those who may send word back to Lord Darnly.

She walked slowly through the muddied streets until she came upon the tavern. It was here she felt at ease, expressing herself and her moods freely. She opened the door slowly as the tavern owner looked up from his bar. He smiled and offered her a seat next to the fire. "Good to see you back, Lady." He whispered as he showed her to her chair. She said nothing, but only nodded at his kindness. It was then she drew from her cuff a gold coin. With a nod the tavern owner left a bottle of wine and key to his best room. As she sat and warmed herself by the fire, then paused and thought to herself about the strange talk about town.

She was beginning to wonder to herself that this game of cat and mouse with Captain Sterling made her feel empowered in a strange sort of way. She fancied it...she loved to play such games. It was in her blood to be able to out-think the other's ability to win. Yes, trickery was a wonderful asset to have in life, but as long as you have the right Aponte to make it worth your while. She looked up from the fire and glanced over to the corner of the room. It was there she saw the pale skinned Captain. Her eyes took him in and discovered that he still looked and pale from too much port. He was drawn and confused from being turned our from the company of his new wife. With that thought in mind, she thought, perhaps tonight she would give chase to this gallant Captain.

He sat there in the corner, as if he was watching for someone. The tavern owner came over to him and greeted him. "What will it be?" The Captain turned and looked back at the tavern owner. "More port, please...and bring the bottle." She didn't move from her chair next to the fire. Her hood covered her completely, as did her black velvet mask. It wasn't until the tavern owner approached her again, did the Captain realize that he was being watched.

In the shadows, he could only make out the figure of a woman near the fire, yet sadly, he was still trying to recover from too much drink that evening. Now he sat in a darkly lit tavern feeling a bit too drunk and looking over at Mistress Lilly by the fire once more.

Taking another sip of port, he looked over in her direction. His face was pale and the cold sweat from a delusional apparition still chilled him to the bone. As he filled his glass once more and lifted it to his lips, he suddenly saw the Lady turn towards him.

He now noticed she wore the black Italian Moretta, which cloaked her identity. This application of discreetness was popular as it was aboard in France, Venice and Italy. In his many travels abroad he remembered seeing them worn on both woman of power and prestige and ladies of fallen grace. They became the popular fancy of those who wish to indulge in a tryst without the strings of identity and the excitement of being incognito. Being that he didn’t wish to stare, he raised his glass out of a gesture of being polite and nodded his hello.

She didn’t dare move an inch when she saw him acknowledge her. Did he know who she was? She thought to herself. “How could it be that he may know who I am?” She asked herself once more as she looked back at him without a single motion. Her mind raced to think back to the ship, as he stood upon deck with his new wife next to him. No, he couldn’t know who she was, that she was sure of. It was then an only then she nodded her reply to the Captain.

With hat in hand he moved from the corner table and approached the Lady by the fire. He stood there for a moment, and then bowed ever so low proclaiming his identity to her. His words warmed with port, yet his tongue still strong of sense, he continued his introductions and his tale of his evening exploits. Of course, the Lady said nothing, but listened to him as he explained his journey to Port Royal and how his life had changed so since he had arrived. “So, you see, my sweet Lady. I am completely lost here in Port Royal and yet…I am cast away from the one who claims to love me and from another who has captured my heart. Perhaps we’ll never see eye to eye…yet, I feel I have also hurt another whom I love dearly …oh, to only to hear her say she forgave me...it would somehow make me feel whole once more.”

She trembled as he spoke to her. The excitement was too great. Oh, to hold back her tongue and not be able to tell him that it was she, the very one he was looking for, made her whole body tingle with delight! She could only sit still and have her eyes followed his as he spoke of his memories longing of finding happiness with this ‘lovely vision’ he spoke of. It was then the game began for her. It was then she took his hand. The Captain looked up into the soft black velvet face and saw two soft deep blue eyes staring back at him. They were like no others that he could recall and yet…they were very hauntingly familiar. Her hand was warm and he could feel it through the doeskin glove that covered it. Such a tender touch from a stranger he thought. She could feel him melt as she held his hand. It was then she decided to make her move. As she lent forward, as if she was about to speak, she quickly got up from her chair and walked towards the stairs to the upstairs rooms. She hovered at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. He watched her standing there…no words were spoken nor needed. She then turned slowly and walked up the stairs, only to have him follow her.

In her room, the vizard-masked woman found a candle next to the bed and lit it. The fire had been lit about an hour before by one of the maid servants of the tavern. The Captain stood in the doorway at first, not knowing if he should proceed with his gallant yet rakish behavior. The port was filling his mind with seduction and passion. These were memories that he longed to experience once more. Oh, how he missed his wife. He missed everything about her; her voice in the morning, her warmth at night, even her argumentative nature, which he always seem to contribute to her elusive past. Yet, the when she was alone with him that he truly knew her heart, her mind, her deepest feelings that she had held in for so long, but it wasn’t until she married him that the truth of his wife’s past now interfered with their life together.

It was then he heard the vizard masked woman let out a soft sigh as she sat down upon the bed. The glow of the candle light made her eyes shine brightly. It was then he moved from the doorway into the room and closed the door.

She looked at him at first and said nothing, as was her habit, but she did not wish to move too quickly either. She found that he was curious enough for the both of them. “What is your name?” She quickly looked up at him with wide eyes. The black velvet mask heighten them as to make sure that the Captain saw her expression. “Oh, yes…of course.” He whispered under his breath. She looked away for a moment. Silly to think that he thought she would give her name. She smiled to herself then turned back and looked at him. She nodded her head in agreement then held out her hand to him. He took it with a gentle manner. Again, the doe-skin gloved hand felt warm and tender to the touch. Her mind raced with the thought of taking him in various erotic ways, experiencing such passions only strangers could truly know. She suddenly felt him lean in to her and press his cheek against the nap of her neck. She could feel herself tremble with delight as his breathing became heavy and arduous. “I am at a loss.” He whispered to her. “Shall I be the poorest Captain in all of England and be lost tonight here in Port Royal or will you be the light which will guide me home, my fair lady?” It was then she lifted his head with her doe -kin hand. As he looked up at her, he could tell by her eyes that she had agreed to ‘guide him home’ for the night. She nodded lightly and it was then he was just about to raise his hand to her face and remove the black velvet mask when she suddenly drew back and shook her head no. “Shall I not know the lovely face behind this mask? Shall I be denied the pleasure of your company?” She took both her hands and placed them upon his chest, then ever so slowly removed her cloak hood, drew off her doe skin gloves and took down her long red hair and with all this, still wearing the black velvet mask. As she let the rest of her cape drop to the floor, the Captain approached her and wrapped his arms about her and kissed her neck and bosom. “What shame is there that you must hide from me?” He whispered as he continued to kiss her neck and bosom. She said nothing as she enjoyed the passionate assault upon her. As he drew up and looked down at her masked face. “Is this the way it shall be, then?” He questioned her. She nodded her head, slowly at first. Fearing that he may change his mind and leave her be for the evening. “Very well, then. We shall play your game tonight. But by morning, I promise you that you will reveal yourself to me.” And with that she slowly raised her skirts to him.

[Capt. Sterling]

...Or so she had wished.

Instead, by the time she had gotten herself back to The Three Crownes, acted convincingly enough to insure that the owner would recieve payment within the week, when she knew not whince the coin would come, changed into something clean and smelling less of her illness, and made her way back down to the common room, she had finally spied him besotted, fumbling about in the far corner and just about ready to smother himself in plate full of Dutch pudding. With a roll of her eyes, she made her way through the other tables, pushing off gropping hands and came to halt beside him. She waited as his spoon missed the meal and stabbed into the table top where his feet had been minutes before being served. "Charming," she muttered under her breath, then sternly, loud enough for his ears only she called his name. "John. ..... JOHNNY!" He glanced up at her. In his current condition he would not have recognized her even without a mask. "Are you seriously going to manage that?" she asked him. "Huh?" came his dazed reply. "Oh come on," she said, grabbing him by the back of his collar. "To bed with you. You can sleep it off here. I've a room upstairs," she said. She lead him several paces before he was able to straighten himself out. "Oh I can't," he barely managed to slur. "I'm married now, ye see." Lilly gave him a shove forward again. "Aye, the story of my life," she grumbled. "Always married you are and to somebody else. Like you'd be able to function in such a state any way," she added with a sigh. "Come on upstairs with you before you're sick. God, John, you know you and rum do not mix!"