NationStates Jolt Archive

The Governer General of Porte Royale looked out of his wide bay window and sighed heavily. How he both loved and hated his splendid and squalid charge. He'd been sent here so long ago with such high hopes, for a well done job here would see him one day comfortably ensconsed at court. That proved to be a most elusive dream and his desires, as time went by became far more modest. To have a loving wife, some fine sons and a pretty daughter or two. Those dreams went into the ash heap of history and he became content to merely to be known for setting a fine table and offering the finest rum the Caribbe had to offer..

He winced as the sound of voices from the not that distant Crows Nest, the largest tavern cum whore house, cum gambling establishment - in short where all the freebooters and ruffians that made Porte Royale home came to meet, make merry, recruit more to their devils cause....

He couldn't stop them. He had less than a five dozen men and ten officers to command them. No, the best he could manage was to keep them from killing one another in the streets, or seizing any woman that caught their eyes and debauching them. With those modest goals he had to be content.

But one of the worst was in port tonight. Captain Black Morgan, Morgan ap' Vargskol. Morgan the wolf's head. A reaver, a pirate most viscious, though he claimed that the tattered papers, salt stained to illegibility were proper Letters of Marque. Though the Governer General hade never heard of the country that issued them. He thought perhaps Neuvo Nihongo was one of the tiny island nations off the Barbary coast. "Be damned upstart native primerate with delusions of importance" The Governer General grumbled to the empty room he stood in, his secretary, a spindly young man the son of one of the local merchants, having gone home to dinner with his ageing parents. He turned away as one of his foot men came into light the lamps and tell him that the butler wished him infomed that his own solitary dinner had been laid.

Blocks away in the bright gilt and scarlet finery of the Crows Nest, by candle light the establishment was the most opulent one could find in the whole of the bustling city though more than a bit tattered if seen in the unforgiving light of day, the crew of the Death Dancer made merry and spent the gold and silver plunder of their latest voyage. Sucessfull they had been, though they had suffered losses and needed replacement crew to bring their numbers back up. They trusted Captain Black Morgan to do that in proper fashion. He had an eye for good men, and the Captain never failed to recruit as many as were needed, and often more than they could ship. The laggards come too late to fill a slot bemoaned their slowness when the Death Dancer returned to Porte Royale her holds bulging with booty.

Captain Black Morgan was a giant of a man, standing well over six and a half feet tall, and powerfully built. His name might have been Welch but his looks were pure Black Irish, curling black hair, wicked blue eyes and fair skin that never burned but only bronzed lightly.

"Who'll make his mark?." The captain cried. "To the Devil drink a toast." He raised a beaten gold goblet adorned with emeralds and splendid pearls of Spanish workmanship, and drank it down in oine long draught. "We'll glut the hold with cups of gold and we'll feed the sea with ghosts. I see your hunger for a fortune, could be better served beneath my flag." His flag was legendary, black as sin with a crimson wolf's head above a pair of crossed sabers also of crimson hue.

"If you've the stomach for a broadside, come aboard my pretty boys. I will take you and make you, everything you've ever dreamed." Captain Black Morgan laughed as a pair of half undresssed doxies clung to either shoulder and tried to interest him in their well displayed charms.

Morgan never gave the whores more than a brief glance. He had half a dozen local youths hanging on to his every word. Most of them would die on the first voyage but most of them could follow orders and had the rudiments of sword play beaten into them.

He ordered another round of small ale and let them mull it over as he motioned to the tavern wench to refill his goblet. "Now ladies" The scorn with which he filled the latter word was missed by the pair, they were more than half sotted themselves. "You'll have to wait until business is completed. Be good girls and run along how." He slipped heavy silver pieces down the ratty bodices of each whore and sent them one their way. He had far better company waiting for him in the mansion he'd built four years ago.

He smiled to himself as he thought of the fine estate he'd created. It was his and his alone, the entire top of the highest hill overlooking the port. 'But no thinking about that now' he chided himself inwardly as a pair of his men came by to thank him for the extra shares he'd distrubuted earlier as the Death Dancer had finished tieing up at the long warf he customarily claimed as her berth. "Oh tis nothing boys, You deserved it after that fine fight with the Frenchie!" He clapped the pair on the shoulder and saw to it that their mugs were refilled before sending them on their way. They'd loose every centime of it at the gameing tables or to the whores but that wasn't his look out.

Morgan pushed back from the table, satisfaction making him smile as he watched the six newest crew men of the Death Dancer had off for the gaming tables, their bellies full of ale and their pockets heavy with a Maqrk bonus. Their all but illegible scrawles made at the bottom of the articles had earned them several pieces of silver.

He took a last sip of the rum that he'd been nursing and stood, ready to head to his fine mansion. However before he could settle his weapons about him, a towsnman burst into the Crows Nest in his night clothes, a lantern in his fist.

"Morgan! You're palace on the hill! It's a fire!" the merchant gasped out, winded from his scrambling run to the tavern. "Burning as if by god's wrath!" His voice held no little smugness. The pirates that brought so much wealth and prrestige, if one could call it that, to Porte Royale weren't loved by all of the towns folke.

Morgan shoved passed the man at a run, ignoring the last spite filled comment. He clattered down the steps leading to the dirty cobblestoned streets and sprinted to the corner. He looked up to the brow of the highest of the hills over looking the city. It was a towering inferno, not only the chateau ablaze, but the lush gardens that surrounded it were aflame as well. Glancing wildly about he spotted a horse, still saddled, tied at the railing that served Piebald's Inn. The inn was next to the Crows Nest and did most of it's business as an over flow whorehouse and flop house for the briefly in port sailors. The horse looked to be of quality, not that Morgan was in any mind to notice such. He was far more concerned with tearing the reins free of the railing and scrambling into the saddle without the horse spooking and bolting uncontrollably.

Morgan was not a skilled rider, "Becalm yourself nag, I'm salt not sod!" He growled as the horse spun in place annoyed by the sheathed saber slapping at it glossy bay flanks. Before Morgan could whip the gelding on, a thunderous bellow, or rather many explosions sounding as nearly one, crashed over the city. The sound broke against the high hills that ringed the city and washed back down over the port. He knew what that sound was and he hauled furiously on the horses reins ,turning the animal so he could see the bay. The city rose up from the docks and the Crows Nest was high enough up that any standing in the street could look out over the port and see the ships in the bay clearly.

The moon was full and it's light gilded the bay. And the dark ship that sailed there, leaving a luminous wake in it's trail. Moonlight leaches color, or changes them but Black Morgan needed no light of day to know that ship. He recognised the flag it flew as well as the ship, and his howl of fury rivaled the broad side that had seconds before belched from his rival's ship

"Trask!!!! I'll see you in hell for this!"