Port Royal, Jamaica

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Ioan tensed, ready to pull knife or pistol, if needed. He grabbed Jane by the arm. "Who the hell is that?"

“No one important, anymore.” Jane pried her arm free from the Welshman’s grasp. She could see the tension in his neck, his free hand hovering between the pistol and sheathed knife at his side. She didn’t need his help and hoped he’d have the good sense to keep out of her business, regardless of Captain Striker’s orders.

“Ye, go.” She hissed, grabbing Westing by the shoulder and forcing him forward. The boys brown eyes were wide as saucers, watching Jane with slack jawed amazement as he stumbled towards the back of the tavern.

“Tink we’re all fools n wouldn’t figure it out did ye? Sail on my ship, take my coin, n ye were nuthin but a whore tha whole blasted time.” The hollering continued as the heavy man charged across the room at them. All eyes in the dim room turned to follow the ranting man as he barreled towards the former carpenter.

Jane cringed at the word, whore. So that’s what it came down to? Forget the two years of faithful service to keep the Anna Rae afloat. All her hard work meant nothing. The man drew closer, closing the distance between them until he was directly behind her. One fat hand clutched a heavy metal tankard, the muscles of his forearm tensing as he gripped the bent handle.

“Turn 'round when I’m talking to ye bitch.” Round cheeks flamed red as he forced every bit of air from his lungs into the tirade. Squaring her shoulders Jane spun on a heel before his free hand could clamp around her arm.

“Wot do ye want Fulton?” The thin line of her mouth barely moved as she spoke, green eyes glaring at the beet faced drunk before her.

The bulky man’s brows furrowed at her flippant treatment, his lip pulling back in an angry sneer. Furry at her deceit filled him. She had been troublesome on the merchantman but knowledge of her true gender made it all worse. He was determined now more than ever to put her in her proper place. A thick arm pulled back, swinging forward with every ounce of his strength. The nearly empty tankard curved in an upward arch that caught Jane along the underside of her jaw. One moment all she saw was her own anger at the former captain, the next a blinding white flash followed by a throbbing blackness and the worn floor of the Inn.

[Dan Reid]

As MacCraige approached the "Mist Reiver" he noticed that the lads had been hard at it and it would not be long before she would swim again. He felt some relief knowing his beloved ship was not to waste away upon this stretch of sand. Retiring to the tent the lads had set up for him he removed his coat and tossed it inside. He then joined his crew around the cook fire and spoke with them casually as he was a light master and enjoyed their company. The little dog made his rounds, receiving a pat here and there for his trouble from the individual men. The dog was a bit of a good luck charm for the crew and he knew it well.

Mr. MacGregor, the first mate, made his report.

"Cap'n, we should be able tae push her back tae the water afore long. She'll swim again, I'll warrant yea."

"Well done lads, well done. We'll be needin' tae hire us some hands tae set her free from this sand. How goes the repairs, Mr. MacCready?"

The master carpenter smiled, "The wood her abouts is not what I'de prefer, cap'n, but it'll do in a pinch."

Just at that time a young lad came upon the camp pushing a barrow that carried a nice kegger of rum.

"Ah, just in time!" the Captain said tossing the boy a guinea for his trouble. "Tap that keg Mr. Grant and let's all drink tae puttin' the Reiver back tae sea." Mr. Grant, the bosun, hefted the keg from the barrow and sent the boy on his way.

"Tae the cap'n!" Mr. Grant called. The lads all roared their approval and soon they were doing their best to see it emptied. The rowdy Scotsmen drank and sang into the night.

[Nimrod Pinon]

Pinon looked about, made eye contact with one of the wenches and signaled for her to come over.

Pinon waited as the girl hurried over to his table.

“And what can I do fer ye?” she asked. He looked up at her, placed one finger to his lips quickly, then crooked it so that she knew to bend low to his ear. “That man over there, with the wet hair, having lunch. Would you know if that is a sea captain by the name of John Sterling?” The girl stood and looked about the room, centering finally on the two men several tables over. They had finally settled their bill and were rising to leave. Pinon grabbed her wrist and pulled her and her attention back down toward himself. The girl suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“That man there?” she asked in a whisper. “Well, ifin I be right, then yes, ‘e could be the captain of the Archangel. Seems that man ‘as gotten ‘isself into noffing but trouble since ‘e landed ‘ere. Got ‘isself shot ‘e did, fell ill at another establishment, mind ye not this one ‘ere another one, and then went off and married one of the Devareaux family. That could be ‘im, but I’ve not seen ‘im wifout a wig… a brown one it tis.”

“Devareaux you say? Andre` Devareaux?” Pinon asked, tightening his grip about her arm.

“Yes sir, that be one of em gypsies, but I cannot be certain that, that fella over there, be one and the same Sterling.”

[Tess St. Claire]

Lady St. Claire collected her bag and waited at the door of her guest’s estate.

“Master Hutchinson?”

Whispered Tess as she heard a thud come from the cellar where only days earlier they took refuge from the storm. As she slowly opened the door to the cellar, she could hear the distinct sound of blade striking earth then the shoveling of it off to one side. As she moved to into the light, it was obvious to what she saw. Master Lewis Hutchinson was concealing a body.

The sharp intake of air started Master Hutchinson and the slave who was assisting him.

“How now! Who is there?”

Tess could not move and yet when the lamp light was finally lifted, they saw her face plain as day.

“Good God, Lewis!” She shouted in a harsh tone. “Are you mad? Could you not wait until things were back to normal about the island?!”

It was then Master Hutchinson quickly took Tess’ arm and moved her over to a less obvious place to discuss the matter at hand. She could tell he was visibly shaken and that being caught by his lovely guest was not something he had planned for.

“Lady, the island is crawling with homeless and deprived individuals. What is one or two gone missing?”

She looked at his face again. She knew that look.

“The great storm was very much a diversion for me and my hobby. People will just assume that this poor lad was swept into the sea. No one need know and I pray no one will.”

She felt his grip upon her tighten on her arm.

“I must keep my skill up if I am to do your bidding.”

Tess could only swallow hard then look back over her shoulder. The slave continued to dig a whole and she could see that the body of the man was hardly visible by the lantern’s light.

“No more until we hear back from Lord Darnly.” She muttered under her breath. “I cannot make that promise. You know this!” She quickly broke free from his grip.

“I am returning to town, with or without your blessing. If you come to your senses, you will find me at the Three Crowns. And Lewis…God have mercy on your soul!”

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian stepped lightly to kitchen threshold; mind, will and instinct battling for rule of the Square. Portal frame was held in steely possession while he watched, thus far, unnoticed by those in culinary confine. Academic and Mademoiselle were in process of uncommitted conversation, namely dominated by the act and aftermath of recent storm.

Soft brush of feline caress wound leather encased calves causing slight start to cooled outer visage, and he sidestepped without given thought. Motion caught Mademoiselle's attention and he near shirked, a pace in reverse chosen by instinct's command. Smallish bow was given and the dark eyes moved from one to the other.

"You must forgive me, but I must leave your company, though it is a regretful thing in my mind. It has occurred to me that I have pressing business in which I am in dire need to attend. It had inadvertently slipped mine mind..."

He paused in verbose progression, centering focus on far window then to Trilby, "Merci Monsieur, for your gracious hospitality, it shall not be forgotten any time in near future and I shall look into procuring the whim of which you had mentioned earlier..."

Another pace in retreat was taken as feline watched on with semi-disgruntlment, Sabastian lingered a moment more before bidding good day and made controlled about face to gain escape to the outside world.

[Andrew March]

“Sir? SIR?!”

March turned about as the stable owner’s voice raised in alarm. Sterling stood, barely, one hand upon a desk top, the other pressed to his side as he doubled over. His face had gone ashen, his eyes, one moment wide, the next screwed tightly shut as he gasped. The first officer was at his side in an instant.

“Tis all right John. It will be all right,” March encouraged as his arms went about his captain’s shoulders. “We won’t be needin' them animals,” he added as he turned Sterling toward the door. “Catch yer breath John. There ye go. Come on now…bloody hell! Lean on me John,” March said, yanking a handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressing it to the captain’s mouth and nose as a thin trickle of blood began to run heavier down the man’s face. March’s grip tightened as Sterling’s knees gave way momentarily. “Hang on John.”

“It will…pass,” Sterling said, his own hand now holding the handkerchief in place.

“It always does. Just tell me when and I shall get ye back to the ‘Angel. Ye won’t be going home tonight,” March said.

[Ransom]

...“Wot do ye want Fulton?” The thin line of her mouth barely moved as she spoke, green eyes glaring at the beet faced drunk before her.

The bulky man’s brows furrowed at her flippant treatment, his lip pulling back in an angry sneer. Furry at her deceit filled him. She had been troublesome on the merchantman but knowledge of her true gender made it all worse. He was determined now more than ever to put her in her proper place. A thick arm pulled back, swinging forward with every ounce of his strength. The nearly empty tankard curved in an upward arch that caught Jane along the underside of her jaw. One moment all she saw was her own anger at the former captain, the next a blinding white flash followed by a throbbing blackness and the worn floor of the Inn.

Ioan saw the blow coming, but couldn't get around Jane fast enough to stop it. Without thinking, as she crumpled to the floor, he withdrew his pistol and pointed it at the big man's face. "It's takes a real dog of a man ta strike a woman. What'd she do, refuse ta bed you? Now stand off, or I swear I'll put a ball between your eyes."

Without taking his attention, nor the point of his gun barrel, away from Jane's attacker, Ioan called to the boy she'd been sneeking from the inn. "Oi, son, take her by the arm and drag her out of here. On second thought, grab me that tankard." He pointed to one on a nearby table.

The boy handed it over, and Ioan dumped its contents over Janes face. As she becan to sputter, he ordered the boy again. "Now, drag her out. As soon as you're outside, get her on her feet. Wait for me, and we'll get her back to the ship."

The boy nodded, his eyes wide as saucers. He took hold of Jane's wrists and began to drag her across the floor toward the back door.

Ioan stepped a bit closer to the big man, who shook with supressed fury. "As for you, I'd advise learning a few manners. Here is your first lesson." With the tankard still in his hand, Ioan smashed it into the side of the man's face, then kneed him in the groin. The man dropped like a felled oak.

Without a backward glance, Ioan left the inn. He found Jane sitting up, the boy hovering over her. Shoving his pistol back in his belt, Ioan grabbed Jane under the armpits and hauled her to her feet. "Come on, Missy. Shore leave is over."

With the boy on one side, and himself on the other, the two steered Jane back to the La Maligna.

[Professor Angus Trilby]

Trilby's first reaction to the encounter between Sebatian and Ransom was one of confusion. How had a business arrangement progressed to this obvious mutual admiration and teasing? He could think of no two people who would be less compatable. A pirate and a gypsy?

Said pirate now sat across the table from him calmly nibbling on a piece of cheese, as if she saw naked men every day. He shook his head. "Yea hae nae morals at all, do you?"

She dropped the bit of cheese and grinned at him. "My morals are the highest. You observed that I didn't throw myself at the man, make lewd remarks, or drag him upstairs to your bedroom. Just seeing a man naked is not going to send me to hell for enternity."

"Nae, it won't, for I ken you're already there!" he snapped. "I dinna think you could sink any lower than pirate. Which brings mae tae ask, why are you here?"

She shrugged. "Wanted to see how you'd faired the storm. I would have come yesterday afternoon, but I ran into Sebastian at the Royal Grace, and was...delayed."

He threw up his hands. "I dinna want tae ken how."

"We had dinner. That's all. It was quite pleasant."

"Ha! Sae pleasant he went out and got himself drunk afterwards. I fine effect yea hae on the male species."

"I would suspect that bruise on his jaw is the reason he got drunk," she replied, then picked a mango from the plate and began to slice it.

"Humph," was Trilby's only answer to that.

[Ransom]

I enjoyed Trilby's needling, but also had one ear cocked, listening for Sebatian's return. I hoped he wouldn't sneek out, but wasn't sure if I'd gone a bit too far in my teasing. Maybe, as Trilby hinted, my effect on men wasn't the best.

But then he was standing in the doorway, Cleopatra rubbing against his boot. Before Trilby could offer him a seat at the table, he spoke of a prior, forgotton engagement, and turned to go.

I lept from my chair and caught up with him before he got to the front door. The expression in his dark eyes told me it was no time to make jests. Gently, I ran a finger along his bruised jawline. "Take care of what businss you must, but when it is done, we need to meet again. And I don't mean to arrange the unloading of the rest of your cargo, although that must be done soon, as I'm tired of my ship being a floating bomb." I smiled. "We have an interrupted dinner I would very much like to finish."

[Dan Reid]

MacCraige awoke the next morning with a blazing headache and the little dog laying on his chest.

"Eh...ge' off me ye scoundrel"he said pushing the dog gently to the ground. "Ye drank as much as I and I don' be needin' yer arse in me face of a mornin'" the little dog's tail wagged quickly and it gave a low growl of greeting.

MacCraige exited his tent to find most of his crew had faired better than he. Many of them were already at work on the "Reiver" shoring up timbers and repairing the rigging. New sails would have to be purchased from the town as well as a few other supplies.

"MacGregor, do ya have me a list of needed supplies?" he asked the first mate as he was handed a trencher and a mug for his breakfast.

"Aye, I do, Cap'n. Ready tae go, it tis." the mate replied.

"Good man, I'll be headin' ta town as soon as I finish me breakfast. I'll be lookin' ta the supplies and be seein' if I ken find someone what knows of that Dan Reid. I be sure he be here somewhere. Ye ken find me at the Three Crowns if'n ye be needin' me."

"Aye Cap'n. Luck wit' findin' that scallywag. Yer brother, he was a good man and we be havin' our revenge upon 'im, eh?" said the mate.

"That we will, lad, that we will" MacCraige replied. "I've a place ta start it seems. I met a bonny lass what seems ta know the goins on of this place. Mayhaps she be havin' some information we ken be usin' ta find 'im. Also, I be plannin' on speakin' ta the cap'n of a ship called the "Arch Angel" from what the lass hinted he be knowin' of the comins and goins of Port Royal as well."

"Aye, but be careful around the docks Cap'n. There be a Spaniard's ship afloat here abouts. Called the Maligna or some such....hehe....wait till we get the Reiver back ta swimmin' then we be seein' about that little mess."

"Aye, Mr. MacGregor. Let's not forget them Spaniards..." MacCraige finished his breakfast and returned to his tent to dress for the days business in town. He dressed quickly and donning his sword he and the little dog started down the beach toward Port Royal.

[Aurore Devareaux]

I enjoyed Trilby's needling, but also had one ear cocked, listening for Sebatian's return. I hoped he wouldn't sneek out, but wasn't sure if I'd gone a bit too far in my teasing. Maybe, as Trilby hinted, my effect on men wasn't the best.

But then he was standing in the doorway, Cleopatra rubbing against his boot. Before Trilby could offer him a seat at the table, he spoke of a prior, forgotton engagement, and turned to go.

I lept from my chair and caught up with him before he got to the front door. The expression in his dark eyes told me it was no time to make jests. Gently, I ran a finger along his bruised jawline. "Take care of what businss you must, but when it is done, we need to meet again. And I don't mean to arrange the unloading of the rest of your cargo, although that must be done soon, as I'm tired of my ship being a floating bomb." I smiled. "We have an interrupted dinner I would very much like to finish."

The abrupt protest of furniture negotiation almost gave hesitation to front door progression. Escape was near and instinct screamed for its' procurement... But as fingers curled around door's release, the resound of Ransom's footfall played foyer encompassment. Intensity of visual pools stared at hand's move away from knob and Sabastian pivoted minutely to regard her approach.

The stroke of fingertip held him captivated as well as any hard drawn bit, and he resisted drawing her nearer. It would be easy to disappear deeper into the island's being and give order to the other's regarding cargo once again mentioned. An easy solution and accord to calm the phantom's that whispered to inner ear.

Finding comfort in the defused light offered by entrance shrine, the charade of calm was more effortless to weave. Hands were clasped at small of back, lupine features set aloof, but his sense of hearing devoured each syllable with greed and sight never wandered from the sun kissed plains of her face.

Nod was given in answer and words chosen carefully in response, "As you wish, Mademoiselle...If you are in need of contacting me, I am sure you are aware of the protocols entailed..."

His words died off and footing was shifted a degree. Door was reached for, knob reclaimed and set to motion. A fleeting glance was given as the glare of Soliel rushed sheltered dwelling; and fleeting glance spoke what words would not dare to announce.

Again, foyer regained shadowy visage and where there were two, only one remained.

[Nimrod Pinon]

A meal neglected. But a small price to pay when time was of the essence. Pinon, pressed a gold coin into the serving girl’s hand.

“But sir…” she squealed as he closed her fingers tightly around it.

“See that your master gets his share. We would not want anything to go a miss now would we?” Pinon said. He supplemented his statement with one finger stroking gently beneath the girl’s plump chin, his icy stare melding with her own. He felt like laughing as she melted under his gaze but decided it wiser not to do so. She would be ripe for the taking if he felt so inclined at a more opportune moment. With a slight bow, as one must never over do such niceties where the staff is concerned, he swept passed her, his hand casually fondling her backside as he passed, a certain guarantee to more information if ever he were in need of it.

He quickly stepped out into the fading sunlight. Still the air had not cooled and he thought perhaps black was not the wisest choice in coloring for such a place. His eyes darted hastily about him and for a moment he thought he had lost what he was searching for. As he looked about, he noticed the other two dinners making an exit from the nearby stable yard. He felt himself draw back, if this was actually the man Sterling, then it seemed as if his meal had not agreed with him. The man’s head bowed, and in spite of being almost concealed by the great cartwheel hat, Pinon could still spy the bloodied linen clutched to the man’s face. It was obvious he was in great pain as he was being escorted some where in extreme haste by his companion. As the two brushed past Pinon, he overheard the darker man, who was focused solely on getting the other out of the public eye, say “John.”

Without missing a step, Pinon hurriedly aligned himself opposite the other man, trapping the ailing man between them. “Here, brother. Your friend seems in need of help. Let me assist you.”

“No tis all right. I have him, thank ye,” the darker man replied.

Pinon only tightened his grip all the more. “Oh I insist. Surely you can not manage this poor soul all by yourself. The man is gravely ill! It is all that I can do to lend a hand in bringing a fellow creature to a doctor.”

The other man’s step faltered only slightly.

“All right then, I could do with a bit of help. My name is Andrew March. This is my captain, John Sterling of the Archangel. I would be beholden if ye were to help me get him back to the ship. We’ve a surgeon there that can see to him.”

Pinon allowed his jaw to drop. “The John Sterling? Sir John Sterling? Oh it would be my pleasure to help a brother out, even if I had not already heard so much about him.”

[Ransom]

...The stroke of fingertip held him captivated as well as any hard drawn bit, and he resisted drawing her nearer. It would be easy to disappear deeper into the island's being and give order to the other's regarding cargo once again mentioned. An easy solution and accord to calm the phantom's that whispered to inner ear.

Finding comfort in the defused light offered by entrance shrine, the charade of calm was more effortless to weave. Hands were clasped at small of back, lupine features set aloof, but his sense of hearing devoured each syllable with greed and sight never wandered from the sun kissed plains of her face.

Nod was given in answer and words chosen carefully in response, "As you wish, Mademoiselle...If you are in need of contacting me, I am sure you are aware of the protocols entailed..."

His words died off and footing was shifted a degree. Door was reached for, knob reclaimed and set to motion. A fleeting glance was given as the glare of Soliel rushed sheltered dwelling; and fleeting glance spoke what words would not dare to announce.

Again, foyer regained shadowy visage and where there were two, only one remained.

At his referal to send word for him at the bookstore, I bridled. What had gone between us thus far warrented more than this brisk dismissal. Then I caught the look in his eyes. Pain lurked within, but not of the physical. Something coiled within his mind, some beast of worry, or guilt or even fear, but whatever it was, it was not directed at me. He reminded me suddenly of a wounded animal that wished only for shelter and solitude in which to heal. The last look he gave me before closing the door spoke of many other things. Things which did lay between us, and might or might not ever be explored.

I could do nothing but nod and watch him go.

Trilby came up behind me. "Sae, I see yea hae run him off again."

"I might be one of the demons that drove him from this house, but I am the lesser of the tribe that dances within his brain at the moment."

I turned away from the door. "Come, Professer. Let us finish our lunch. Mayhap you could open a bottle of Port. I feel in need of a strong drink."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Devon Burke and Seth Childermass lingered near the entrance of byway near livery's standing. Things had been in rather a stir in the recent past, but seemed to have reached something closer to dull roar as Baro Rom had returned to Roost and business returned somewhat to normal. There was a lingering unsaid tension that rolled in waves through Le Cour, not something that went un-noticed by Childermass, nor did it seem to affect him outwardly.

The afternoon had followed suit, as so many others before in tropical climes and the smallish offering of shade they now occupied was of unspoken blessing. Conversation lay mostly one sided as Burke chided and made light of things occurring around them; occasionally giving the other a look of question before going on. And on it went, as soundtrack mingling with the rhythms of Port Royal by ways.

Childermass listened to Younger, heard all comments regardless of his stoic set of expression...But, his true center of attention laid upon Charge near stable proxy. The approach of newly arrived was scrutinized and digested with keen perception of what was and what was only laid upon the stage as facade.

Devon faltered in latest communiqué, attention drawn to Seth's object of interest. In choreographed sequence, the two split company and neared trio in stealthy manner of predatory grace; ghosts in the mid-day sun.

[Nimrod Pinon]

“I do not wish to alarm you, but do you know the two men who are currently following us?” Pinon asked. Sterling continued to fail as the two continued to support him as they helped him back to the wharf where the Archangel was still tied up. As the elegant brigantine came closer, Pinon could only think how convenient that She was not out further at anchor in the harbor. He quickly reminded himself that it was far too soon. Being early was one thing, missing one’s timing completely was all together an abhorrence. He could only hope that she would still be renting dock space when the time was right.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Jane slipped and stumbled, struggling to keep her feet underneath her as Ioan hurried them down the muddy streets. When they finally reached a dry patch her knees locked up, worn shoes digging into the ground as she tugged against his firm grasp.

“Le go” she hissed, instantly regretting the simple movement of her jaw.

Her entire head spun until she clamped her eyes shut, the darkness doing little to soothe the intense pain. She swallowed heavily, tasting the bitter blood that filled her mouth. Green eyes half opened again, squinting into the flaming evening sky. She could barely make out the Welshman’s silhouette between the sunset and the random black patches in her blurred vision. Thin fingers gripped Westing’s narrow shoulder tightly; the boys support the only thing keeping her from doubling over in agony. Her words were stilted, gritted between aching jaws and deliberately measured breaths.

“M fineh. We go, ta tha yards, for returnin.”

[Andrew March]

March soon had the captain’s one arm about his own shoulders. The other had been all too cheerfully accepted by the stranger in black. A fleeting thought passed through the first officer’s mind, the recollection of seeing the other man in the tavern when March had turned to order another bottle of rum. Normally such a thought would have unsettled March, but at the moment, he was far too needfull of the stranger’s assistance. Sterling buckled, biting down hard, trying to keep the torment which wished to unleash itself , inside. “Steady John. We’re almost home,” March said.

“I do not wish to alarm you, but do you know the two men who are currently following us?” Pinon asked.

But March’s mind was far too distracted by his friend’s current condition.

“What did ye say?” the first officer asked, but already they were being hailed from the Archangel. March shouted back, then suddenly turned, plucked off the captain’s beaver hat and caught Sterling about the middle. Hoisting the captain up over his shoulder, March whispered, “Sorry John.” He then looked the taller man in the eye. “Tis as far as ye go, but know that I am truly grateful.” He turned just as suddenly and began his way across the gangplank, carrying his captain. “Nothing to worry about Mr. Beach,” March added with a laugh at the gunner's surprised expression. “Tis the drink as usual, nothing more.”

[CrazyCholeBlack]

The dark eyes of Capitán Ulises watched the ships bobbing in the harbor, oblivious to the bustling dock around him. His focus centered on the battered image of La Maligna, her brightly painted sides reflecting in the cool water around her. The Spaniards face was grim, dark shadows playing across the worn features. He had not heard back from his would be agents since the passing of the storm. Inwardly he feared that the two men would not return; content to spend their down payment on drink without completing the required task. Ulises cursed his foolishness in not trusting the job to his own men, or better yet, doing it himself. Folding his heavy arms across his muscular chest Ulises vowed once again to see the galleon in proper Spanish hands, regardless of what it would take to put her there. With a deepening furrow in his brow the Capitán continued to watch the distant ship until the sun fell below the horizon.

[Dan Reid]

MacCraige turned the corner near the stable and noticed two men assisting a third down the street. The one man was easily identified as a seaman but the second, there seemed to be something amiss about him. He continued his way down the street towards the docks and noticed two men split company and shadow the three as they made their way from the stable area.

"Now, that be interestin'" he said to himself. The little black dog growled deep in his chest. "Ye feel it too, do ye, mate? There be a black wind a blowin' in this here town. Spanish ships in port and now this. What 'ave we gottin' inta here, eh lad?" he said to the little dog.

He watched as the sailor hoisted the injured man to his shoulder and carried him up the gangway onto a right bonny ship. The man in black turned and walked back towards where MacCraige was standing. As he passed, the little dog again growled deep in his chest.

"Quiet, you" he said, tipping his hat to the man in black. "G'day ta ya," he said as the man passed. The steely blue eyes of the man stared back as he passed.

"Right black wind, indeed" MacCraige said to the little dog when the man was out of range to be overheard. The little dog gave a short bark in reply. The two rogues who had shadowed the three were nowhere to be seen.

"Well, on ta the ships, says I" he said, again walking towards the docks. He stopped a passing boy and asked which ship was the 'Archangel' the boy pointed to the ship in which the sailor had just carried the injured man.

"Init that interstin'" MacCraige thought to himself as he approached the 'Archangel'.

[Cheeky Actress]

It took Mistress Lilly more than an hour to pull herself from her bed, dress and manage a small piece of bread to curb her stomach, which was still tender and a quick reminder of her folly the night before. She donned a hood and quickly placed on her gloves before she exited her room. As she made her way through the tavern, eyes followed her towards the door. She thought to herself that she was quite a sight. In her mood and condition she lacked the drapings from which she was a custom to. She wore no face powder, nor did she dress her hair in a suitable manner. She had drawn her hair back and placed on a cap. She was in no mood to put on airs today.

She walked slowly down the road towards the harbor, but not before another sharp pain took her by surprised. She quickly stopped, cursed then muttered a prayer of forgiveness. She felt so poorly that she was in need of assistance. She thought about the ship’s cutter, Reiley….but he was too busy up board as of the moment.

She quickened her step as she come to the corner and saw Sebatian leaving the shop of one Professor Tribly. He was quick to disappear once again into the crowded street.

Professor Angus Tribly was a name that Mistress Lilly had heard once or twice in passing, but knew very little of the man, only that he had a knack with apothecary treatments and experiences of all sorts. Lilly clutched her purse. “God knows my pain, and hopefully this man will have a cure!”

She stopped at the door and knocked lightly at first. It was then Souris answered the door. “I’ve come to see Prof. Tribly please.” She muttered slowly. The servant showed her into the hall. Soon Lilly was over come with the stench of sulpher and quickly placed her hand to her mouth. “Oh dear God in Heaven…” She muttered as she once again made sick upon the hallway floor.

[Andrew March]

“You lied to me! Lied! How the hell do ye expect me to help the man when neither he nor the rest of you will tell me the truth?! Malaria my foot. Look at him! Although the former symptoms may have been similar this is not malaria at all,” Reiley said, keeping his voice to a loud roar.

“We know,” Symms said quietly. “And so does the captain.”

“Ah! I’ve an idea that will cure him,” Reiley said as he continued his tirade. “How about this,” he pulled a scalpel from his medical kit. “Why don’t I just cut his throat and put us all out of his misery? You should have told me from the start. I could have been actually doing something that might have helped him! And just look at me... I was worried about his wound festering!! Bloody hell!”

“Keep yer voice down doctor!” March snapped. “None of us be wanting the rest of the crew to know things are not well with the captain. Not good for morale.”

Reiley rolled his eyes. “ Ah sure you are! Worried about morale? I think you should be concerning yourself with Captain Sterling’s health at the moment.”

March moved in closer, fingers lacing themselves tightly into the doctor’s cravat. “Do ye not think we haven’t been? He’s gone to some of the best of yer breed back in London. He’s better off without yer type, says I. All ye and yours can do is hurry him along to the grave!”

“ENOUGH!” Symms shouted. “All yer bickering isn’t going to help anyone. We need to be seeing what we can do to help him now. He‘s only been growing worse.”

Reiley stood his ground as the old steward yelled. March finally released his hold and walked away.

“Tell me Mr. Symms, since no one else seems to be willing to inform me of the facts, how is it with the captain when he is in this way? The more information you can give me, the better it will assist me. And as for you Mr. March, if you were so worried about morale, why did you bring him back here in the first place? Strung up in a wooden box surely can be of no comfort to the man.” The doctor stopped and took a breath, calming himself to think. “I reckon it best we get him someplace else. Some where I can tend him in privacy, some where he can get some rest and some where that you, Mr. March, do not have to worry about your precious crew! Find me a carriage. NOW!”

[Lilith]

As the sun disappeared from the edge of the earth, a Dutch sloop continued to makes its journey towards the harbor of Port Royal. Soon evening fell and along with it a thick fog. The Dutch Captain and his first mate stood upon the deck looking franticly through the thick mist, which engulfed their ship.

It was then the Dutch Captain heard a loud sound at stern. "It must be 1500 perhaps 1800 yards in front of us...I feel it." said the First Mate. Grabbing the spyglass from his belt, he tried to pear into the fog. "Captain, I don't believe it. Have a look." The Dutch Captain quickly took the eyeglass and pointed it in the direction where his First Mate was searching.

The dark evening sky soon gave way to deathly cold chill. The First Mate shivered suddenly as if death itself walked over his heart. The full moon split through the fog and before the Dutch sloop, sat the predator of the sea. The Dutch Captain withdrew the eyepiece and whispered softly so only his First Mate could hear. "God save us...its' the 'Tartarus'. And there perched upon its' blood soaked deck was the Sea Witch herself...Lilith.

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

By late afternoon it was apparent to Lady Violet there would be no reaction to the missive she had sent to the docks. It vexed her, but she was not overly surprised, considering the circumstances. However, she had hoped that a bit of civility had remained over the ensuing years. With a sigh, she decided she had waited longer than what was polite, and felt the need for some air.

She put on her flowered sun hat, called to her servants, tucked Sugar into the crook of her arm, and like a flag ship, led the small armada down the stairs, through the common room and out into the street. Once there, she had no real plan of action, but strolled along enjoying the bustle. She noticed that most of the storm damage was rapidly being repaired or cleared away, and that business was pretty much back to normal. It would not be long before the coach from Trade Winds would arrive to take her inland and reunite her with Albert.

Impervious to the heat, Lady Violet breasted through the crowds in front of the taverns, infuriated a street merchant when she stopped to gossip with an aquaintance, thereby blocking access to his wares, bought sugared treats for Kitty, Bess, and Timmon, and enjoyed herself immensely. The whole excursiion was accompanied by the constant barking of Sugar, who felt sure every strange face was a threat to her mistress. Sugar's yapping was eventually stiffled when Lady Violet stuffed a piece of pepper sausage into the dog's mouth, and the animal spent the next twenty minutes licking and drooling.

After over an hour of walking, Lady violet felt the need of liquid refreshment. Finding herself in front of the Three Crowns, she enterd the establishment, commendeered a table, and signaled to the tapster. "A large ale, a dish of pickled eggs, and some decent bread and cheese, if you please, sir. And small beer for my servants. Oh, and a dish of water for my dog."

The tapster, instantly recognizing his new patron, was quick to deliver her requests.

[Bess Hagarty]

Abbi Crane watched Bess closely as she stoked the fire once again. Night was falling and the nights were getting colder.

“You seem wistful, Dear, what be upon yer mind this evening?” With a smile, Bess managed to wipe her face with her apron and shook off the comment. “Oh, is it the young Mr. Davis that still captures your thoughts?”

Bess giggled. Was it that obvious? Abbi placed down her sewing. “Mind you Bess; he is in a good place, safe with those he knows around him. There be no need to fear. He is a kind lad, he is. Count your blessing, Bess. If it weren’t for the kind heart of Master Reiley and young Mr. Davis, you would be at the mercy of the streets!” Bess looked stunned. “Oh, Mistress Crane! I am very grateful, indeed!” It was then Abbi motioned the girl over to her. “I know you are, Bess. I’m also grateful that you have come to live with me. I’ll have good company when the rainy season starts. Not many people come this way then. It’s the roads. They wash out so quickly. I am old, Bess and a friendly face such as yours is good company. How I miss Master Crane.” Bess gathered her arms about the plump old woman and hugged her.

[Capt. Sterling]

“Here ye go, Sir,” Symms said, his tone seemingly calm and in control. He carefully passed a glass of fresh water to Sterling, helping him to sit upward enough to handle the glass on his own. Sterling tried to speak, forced his throat to clear and finally thanked the older man, his voice hoarse and hardly working. Stained handkerchief still remained clutched in of of the captain's hands.

“Dr. Reiley is sore angry with the likes of us,” Symms said.

“So I over heard. I have a ship to run. He does not understand what that entails. So, Dr. Reiley can kiss my…” Sterling began.

“The hell I will!” Reiley snorted as he reentered the captain’s quarters. “And, if I recall correctly, twas you yourself that hired me on here as your doctor, for pulling you through part of what ever it is that is ailing you in the first place.”

“Ship’s surgeon, not my personal physician,” Sterling corrected him.

“Well if you aren’t a part of this ship, then don’t know who else would truly qualify. Your doctor, and as such you will be telling me all you can about how you feel and how long this has been going on.” He glared suddenly at the steward. “Seems to me that there are too many locked lipped fellows upon this ship and all being stupid out of blind loyalty. Won’t be me sending you to meet your maker any time soon. Seems you and your “mates” are doing that all well enough on your own.” He reached out and clapped a hand to Sterling’s forehead. “You sound like shite.”

Sterling started slightly at Reiley's bed side manner. “I feel like…”

“Shut up! I should box your ears instead of checking your fever!” the doctor complained