Pirates Return IC

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Hearing the bellow from below, Matty gulped. "Battle might be preferrable," she muttered. Returning to the door, she tried to put on a casual face. "Did you need me for something, Ma'am?"

 

Alexa looked up at Matty, eyes grave. "Lass, what did you do to my son? Tied up and the smell of rum?"

She brushed the hair from Daniel's forehead, looking concerned.

 

Matty was shocked as the implication of Alexa's question sank in. "Me, do that - with Daniel? How could you think so, I never - " She turned away, blushing at the unintended confession. "He's a brother to me, not a lover. He came up to deck in pain, asking for help. I don't know anything about all those powders in the surgery, but I do know that rum will cure just about anything that ails a man, at least temporarily. Or at least make him for get about what hurts."

 

Alexa nodded slightly then indicated the ribbons. "But why tie him up with your hair ribbons?"

She reached into a hidden pocket of her skirts and pulled out a small phial of powder, then handed it to Matty. "If he comes to you in pain again and I am nowhere near, mix some of this with some water or rum and make him drink it. It will help dull the pain."

 

"That was Miss Damien's idea. When Daniel came up on deck he was clawing at those bandages, and we were afraid he'd rip the wound open. She said he'd get infected if he did, and tied his hands so's he couldn't reach. Alexa, she's done stuff like this before - taking care of sick people. She knew too well how to do things."

 

"She's done this before, has she?" Alexa frowned slightly, looking at Daniel's bandages. "If he were clawing at his bandages, what she did was well done."

She glanced at Matty. "Lass, I'd like you to give me a hand here. I'm going to change his bandages and wash that wound with some rum, to lessen the risk of infection. Would you be willing to run to the surgery and bring back some fresh bandages and some more of that rum?"

 

"Mom, is zhat you?" Daniel mumbled. He thought he heard his mom talking, but his head wasn't working right. At least PAIN was as confused as he was. Where'd Captain Jack go? Daniel wondered as he drifted deeper into a drunken stupor.

 

Alexa glanced down at Daniel and stroked his forehead soothingly. "Ssh, lad, it's me. I'm here. You just rest. I'll look after you."

She looked at Matty. "Matty... Matilda, he's asleep now. Please, would you get the items I asked for? It would be easier to work on him while he's still unconscious."

 

"Of course." Matty was longer about returning from the surgery than she wanted to be, having to fight through several knots of sailors and partygoers in the narrow passageways. It was impossible to pretend any longer that nothing was happening, that they were simply trying to find a place to drop the rescued nobles. That last lurch was unmistakeable to even the most drunken of the sailors, and the word "battle" quickly spread through the crowds.

"This won't take long, will it, Ma'am? If you can't be quick, I hope your hands are steady enough to be working in the midst of a pitched battle."

 

"Battle, is it? Just what we need." Alexa's eyes darkened as she took the supplies from Matty with a nod of thanks.

"This shouldn't take too long, but it will go faster with an extra pair of hands. If you would wash the wound with some rum while I get the bandages ready, that would be a huge help."

She glanced at Matty. "A battle so soon after the last one is sure to need the piper. Have you your pipes or do you just have the flute you brought with you to the ball?"

 

"Nay, just the flute. Fat lot of good that'll do now - too quiet to be heard over the noise of fighting." She stopped talking to focus on helping Alexa. When Daniel's wound was re-dressed, she looked up with a grin. "I can't imagine that a Navy piper doesn't have a 'spare' set lying about somewhere. I hope I don't run into Leftenant Cornwallis while I go about finding them."

 

Andrew was slumped against a wall. He was aching all over... What the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was drinking and laughing. Stumbling to his hammock...?

He sat, eyes closed, and searched his memory for something. Ah yes, the cannons. He had heard cannons, and yelling. Then, from nowhere, something had hit him hard in the chest. That was where the recollection ended. Everything was so fragmented.

Groaning, he opened his eyes. He was in a cell, and he wasn't alone. Slowly his eyes focused, and he recognised the faces of other crew members. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he felt dried blood on his lip. Sighing, he closed his eyes, and fell into unconsciousness.

 

Alexa smiled at Matty's words. "Well, lass, I'd suggest you go see if you can get your hands on a spare set of pipes. And perhaps try to get changed out of the dress into something a bit more comfortable." She winked, then continued. "Besides, if you're wearing breeches, perhaps the good Cornwallis will have a bit more difficulty spotting you."

She glanced back down at her son. "I'll keep an eye on the lad."

 

Abbot stepped back from the bridge, slipping the spyglass into his jacket pocket before walking down the stairs to the deck. He was starting to get a feel for the longsword, but he moved down to the weapons locker to take three straight bladed, navy cutlasses. The weapons were a little different from his own, the hilt guard and the pommel were bigger to make up for the heavier blades, but they were comfortable enough for him to be able to use them effectively.

Swiftly, he looped the baldrics over his head and waist, grabbed two pistols to tuck into his belt and returned to the main deck. The navy sailors were good at their job, he noticed as they moved across the deck in a very organised, orderly manner as they prepared for the battle that loomed. Abbot nodded to himself as he walked across the deck, admiring their efficiency.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alexa bending over Daniel, lifting the bloody bandages to examine the wound again. The stress was obvious on her face as she fretted over her son, but as ever, she was professional in her manner. Abbot stepped over to them quickly and bent down next to Alexa. "Best to get him down below. He'll only be in the way." Abbot said, as softly as he could considering his own gruff demeanor.


The Infante sailed in close to LeBihan's ship and hurled her ropes toward the bigger ship and pulled in closer. "Got ourselves another toy for the captain!" A Red Hand Bosun shouted, "He's a tough son of a bitch - should keep the captain amused for months!" The Red Hands laughed as they pulled in closer. Once the ships came together, the native was hauled out from the brig and litterally thrown onto LeBihan's ship to land hard onto the deck.

"Take him below with the other one. I'll tell the captain."

 

Daniel felt himself being carried below and layed in a bed. He dreamed of cannons and drownings and flashing blades, but no little black monkeys appeared in his dreams.

*********************************

Brutus paced the deck of the Pale Horse. Cap' Bihan had promised him one silver for each Pale Horse ear he produced. He hoped that everyone still had all their ears, it really made him mad when he went to all the work to kill somebody, just to find out they only had one ear, or worse, none.

He fingered the collection of dried ears hanging from his thick leather belt slung across his chest. His two battle axes swung in anticipation as he went up and down the ship. He wasn't much of a sailor, but that's not why Cap' Bihan kept him around.

Finally, shouts indicated they were being boarded. Brutus raised both his axes and yelled a primal battle cry. Was it English? French? Creole?

Who knew, but it was loud, and it announced a mighty warrior preparing for battle.

 

A Red Hand was standing idly, guarding the brig, when somebody grabbed the back of his head and rammed it into the wall.

"Key?" a voice asked. Weakly, unable to scream for help, the man rattled his pockets.
"Thanks." the voice said again, and rammed him into the wall once more, knocking him unconcious.

Spinning the key around on his fingers, Alistair waltzed over to the brig and unlocked it.
"Alright, boys." he said. "Quieten down now. I'm trying to retake the ship. I think I'll need someone who can guide the ship and some help in taking down those guards. I know I'm not part of your crew, but I'm helping here. Anyone going to aid me, or am I in this alone?"

 

Andrew heard a thud, and a gruff voice. Opening his eyes, he heard another thud, louder this time. Suddenly, the lock clicked and the cell door swung open. Standing there was a tall Red Hand, slightly scarred but not looking too agressive. He was almost smiling.

Almost accidentally, Andrew blurted out a "What the hell?"
"What?" The strange figure asked questioningly.
"You're not one of them?" His head was spinning.
"I'm the bounty hunter. Don't recognize me anymore?"
Andrew squinted."Alistair? Nice disguise... Got any weapons?"

Alistair pulled a pistol out of his belt and threw it over, then turned to a red hand guard slumped in the floor, and gave his head a heavy stamp. Crouching down, he drew the sword from the unconscious mans belt, and slit his throat with it, before passing that across too.

Andrew slipped the cutlass into his belt, and quickly examined the gun. "Okay, where to?"
Alistair turned on his heel."I've no idea. You work here, I don't."
"How many Red Hand have you killed?"
"Six, but there are a hell of a lot more."
"We should find somewhere to hide, they'll start finding the bodies soon."

[ October 12, 2005, 12:14: Message edited by: Firey ]

 

"Let's go back to the cargo hold for now," Alistair suggested. Andrew nodded, and the two of them retreated back there, fortunatly avoiding any Red Hands.

Once they were there, Alistair climbed behind some barrels and was pleased to find that his jacket was still there. He sat down, the boat rocked gently beneath him. Andrew was sitting somewhere, he couldn't see very well in the darkness, but he could hear the shuffling.

And then his mind began to wander. He tried to make it stop, but it didn't listen.

His mind wandered back to quite a few years ago. There was a ship just like this one. It was called the White Queen. He had been a normal sailor...

"The White Queen is here!"
The majestic ship rolled into the dock, where it had sailed out into the blue, sunny morn two months previously. Immediately people began dismounting, unloading cargo. Alistair was amongst them, but a simple worker man, young and cheerful, full of life. Smiling, the dockmaster appeared, holding a thick bundle of letters in his hand.
"Hey, Alistair." he smiled.
"Sir!"
"Got some more letters for ya. Quite popular, aren't you?"
Alistair blushed and went bright red. The harbour master laughed heartily and slapped him on the back, disappearing without another word.

Looking around, Alistair noted that everyone was busy - and so he slid into a nearby alley and eagerly opened the first letter.

"Alistair:
How have you been? Myself, I have been fine. Thank you for your letters, I must say. They're quite dear to me. I appreciate you sending them from all corners of the world.

I wish you luck on your voyage this time. Oh, and the seaside rendevous we had yesterday was brilliant. I had a good time. Thank you. Some day, one day, perhaps we could have another sometime? You're good company.

Well. With that being said, I do not wish to hold up your journey. All I can say is - bon voyage. I hope you return safely.

Catherine."


Alistair's grip tightened around his musket.

Catherine...

He was feeling vague remorse for stomping that pirate's face into the floor earlier. But Catherine...

The love of his life...

He would never forgive them. Never.

 

Adam Davies swung idly in his hammock, drifting in and out of sleep as he sipped at a bottle of grog every few minutes. He felt himself grow steadily more drunk. He was almost ready to start a song that woulld rouse the whole crew when he heard the bell chime for an hour passed. He sighed as he slipped from the hammock. It was his turn to take guard on the prisoners. Slowly, he pulled on a pair of trousers before stumbling towards the door.

His sight was blurred and he felt a little sick, but there was a grin on his face as his own drunkeness seemed to entertain him. Quietly, he began a song. "Thou shalt have a fishie on a little dishie..." he murmured as he headed for the stairs, he swayed as he reached the stairs to the brig, and had to push himself against the wall before he hit the floor. He chuckled and took a deep swig of the grog before he rose to his feet, rather unsteadily and made it down the stairs, his upper body sliding down the bannister. He fell on his rump as he made it to the bottom, and he had to crawl the last few metres to the brig.

He saw his fellow Red Hand lying down on the floor and Adam laughed, shaking him with one hand as he propped himself up on the other.

"Wake up, shipmate!" He shouted in his ear. His friend didn't even groan. "Too much drink, mate." he said, turning and leaning against his friend. "You never could handle it!" he said with a chuckle. After a moment of boozey comfort, Adam slapped his friends head. " 'mon - there's a nice comfy hammock waiting for you. Gimme the Keysh and I'll take o'er." he said, his voice slurred with the drink. His friend didn't stir, so Adam searched for the keys himself. He frowned when he couldn't find them, and then stood. He felt shaky, but it felt rather pleasant anyway. He kicked the Red Hand in the back, trying to wake him. He kickedd him again, but there was no response, "Wheresh the keysh ya daft ****e. You can sleep wherever the hell you want, but I need the keysh." He rolled his friend over with his foot, and it was only then that he saw the bloodied face and slit throat. He looked at the wall where he had been hitfallen and saw the bloody stain on the wood. "Oh ****e!" he said, as he counted the sleeping prisoners. Most were too well beaten to do anything but sleep. He counted again and came to the same number. One was missing. He spun and attempted to run as fast as his drunken state would allow. He shouted as he ran, "Prisoner loose! Prisoner loose!" as loud as he could until he reached the main deck and rung the alarm bell hard, shouting the whole time.

[ October 14, 2005, 11:34: Message edited by: The Kilted Crusader ]

 

Slowly, Saimon began to regain his old hardiness. The situation had jus simply - overwhelmed him.
"These, these dogs will not get anything from me!", Saimon thought to himself. "Even though I hold Abbot no allegiance, I would rather die than doing the bidding of these beats!".
Oh he knew he was going to die... He knew it, and wouldn't go down like a sheep in a slaughter house; wouldn't just stand there willingly let Anvaur - the death - close his cold fingers around his heart, squishing it till all life have abandoned his immortal soul! "Barre Respect those who die with honour, he will let me into his eternal kingdom, if I die like a man!", he said loudly to himself.

He heard some noises from the dark cell, abody moving. Wasn't he alone in this accursed place?