NationStates Jolt Archive

"Vessel off the port bow!" The lookout of the United Irishman called.
Teddy O'Donnell, the First Mate peered over anxiously, "What is it? A Frigate? A Brig? Heavens forbid, not a Galleon?"
"A Dinghy, Sir"
"You brought me up here for a dinghy?" he asked in his thick Cork accent, He shook his head in disbelief and headed over to the railing,
"What be your business here!?!" He called out to the two men in the boat.

"He's otherwise engaged," Teddy called down, "If it's so important, I have a keen ear, you can tell it to me or sling yer hook!" The gathering crew laughed at this.

Morgan, Ro and Patrick, in the library of the House of Blue Lights

She's heard about you and your expliots from my own crew."


"I reckon three days hard sailing with the wind should bring us up on her although we can only hope"

"Then send her on up to the tavern, Ro. I'm not sailing this night, Patrick, and probably not tomorrow either. No need to be at sea just yet. They don't even set sail for two days from now, and I don't want to be caught too close to Colon. Their coastal vessels are swift. No, I'm going to give them a couple of days to get into the basin, since Patrick here believes that is the way Ferraria will go."

Besides, while she didn't say it, she wanted to finsih the book she was reading. A woman pirate had to be especially careful of the picture she presented to others, and reading wasn't looked upon with any approval.

Ro-zu nodded. "I will send her up to the tavern as soon as she is released from duties."
As though hearing her thoughts he looked around the room and commented on their meeting area for the first time. "Strange place to have a meeting, is it not? Is this the only secure place that you know of, or are the owners particularly hospitable to you?"

Mogan, Ro, Patrick, House of Blue Lights

"Strange place to have a meeting, is it not? Is this the only secure place that you know of, or are the owners particularly hospitable to you?"

Morgan looked about with a carefully neutral expression, then laughed loudy, avoiding looking at the open bood on the comfortable chair by the bay window."The madame owes me, I am part owner. And as I understand it such folderol is part of the attraction to the sons of the islands wealthy planters. Tis is an investment."

Though while they had been having a meeting with the Frenchman, she had been having a long hot soaking bath and a maid to make sure her hair was thoroughky washed. It had been heavenly And such luxuries were not to be found aboard a ship.

But damn his noticing eyes. Next he'd notice she wasa in far nicer clothes than most had ever seen her in, and far more feminine. Better to keep him off guard and not thinking about such things.

"Now scat both of ye, they'll be missing ye at the tavern. An' tell ole Tom to break out a bottle of mine for yer pleasure."

"Now scat both of ye, they'll be missing ye at the tavern. An' tell ole Tom to break out a bottle of mine for yer pleasure."
"Aye," Ro-zu stood. "It has been a pleasure. Captains," he bowed almost mockingly. "I will see you both later." He strode from the room, his destination the tavern.

Once Patrick has left as well, Morgan moved to a covered object tucked next to the comfortable chair by the bay window, and drew aside the velvet cloth. She was suddenly wanting music not the written word.The guitar was finely crafted, the result of a master craftsmans long and careful work.

Memories were haunting her hard this night, and she poured them forth into the dark (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdkebxnA5Mc), losing herself in the past for one night.

(((OOC: Really sorry for the delay!)))

"Shot off our bow, sir!"
"Then we're withing range for sure. Fire the bows, take out their sails!" The two bow cannons spewed fire, and the air was filled with the whistling of the chain shot as it...sailed...towards the sails of the Vainglorious.

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
East of Cayona Bay

Kitt spun around at the report of the cannon from the mysterious frigate to starboard. He watched the frightening, wobbling flight of the chain shot and breathed a sigh of relief as it fell comfortable short. "Well that does solve a few things."

"Wha do it salve, cap'n?" Libretto Larry asked offhand as he leaned to port to keep an eye on the reef.

"Well, Mister Lawrence, it seems that frigate is no friend of King George."

"Thout dat be a might oob-vious, cap'n, wha wit the guns all a'firin'."

Kitt rolled his eyes and suppressed a sigh. "Quite, Mister Lawrence, but that is not the only conclusion to derive from the frigate's actions. It is most likely a pirate. Any naval officer would raise his flag prior to firing as is customary."

Larry was quiet for a moment as he pondered his captain's conclusions. "Does take da fun out of it, cap'n...raisin' colours an' all."

"I suppose it might, but his Majesty's navy does frown on such conduct." He gazed off at the frigate for a moment. Currently none of his guns were pointed towards the pirate. He couldn't turn to bring his stern chasers into play without running up on to the reef. And he would have to turn to starboard and into the wind to bring his larboard guns around.

He looked up at the sails for the indication of the wind. . He had about four miles to go until the eastern tip of the island and was perhaps making six or seven knots in this wind. He decided to keep on this course for a while longer

The entire crew of the Alexandria, actually a bit eager for a bit of action after weeks of boredom, paused to watch the chains shot fall short of its intended target. The disappointment of the crew was palpable. The ship was still out of range...

Mahmoud groaned. His eyesight was not what it used to be, apparently. The ship was farther away then he thought, and progressing at about the same speed as the Alexandria was. Mahmoud glanced at Aaqil, who shrugged. They were out of range and, aside from Allah sending a hidden reef to ground the Vainglorious, they were going to stay out of range. Mahmoud nodded at Aaqil, and swallowed his pride. Oh well...there was always a good wench in Tortuga to help one's spirits.

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
East Southeast of Cayona Harbor

Kitt watched the mysterious frigate for a few minutes. The Vaingloriouswas silent save for the wind in the lines and bow crashing over the waves. The men, hunched at their guns, were mostly still and quiet. Even Larry had ceased singing at the helm. Through the silence there was building air of excitement. A few of the forward gun crews could lean out and see the frigate behind them and passed word of what they observed to their aftward crewmates.

They came to the same conclusion Kitt had. The handy little brig was holding her own against the larger frigates. The watch bell had just been wrung seven times. It was seven bells in the Afternoon watch. It should take him less than another bell or thirty minutes to make it around the tip of the island. The anxiety was agonizing, but the suspense was one of the things that made him love being master and commander of a ship of war.

(( OOC: Right, can't let this die in one go. Anyways, I'm a trained Lifeguard that means I can pull this thread out from the bottom of the pool, apply oxygen, and charge up the ATD (Automatic Thread Defibrilator). Clear!

This is a bit Tanaara and I had talked about before my trip. Figured we might as well do it as no one else is doing anything.))

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
North of Tortuga

The Vainglorious had slipped around the eastern horn of the island with apparent ease. With land out from under her lee, Kitt ordered a hard turn to port. The was then running before the wind, and the sails strained as they caught hold of the southerly gale, speeding the brig northwards. They had a good head start over the frigates, and as night fell Kitt knew he was out of danger.

The next part should have been easy as well. They'd observed a veritable pirate flotilla forming in Cayona Harbor. Kitt knew it was his duty to report that to the Governor at Nassau. However, his pride galled him. It rolled up like bile in this throat and whispered charges of cowardice. He had run from them. No one would doubt that two frigates were a thuroughly uneven match for his razee brig, but still he had barely left Nassau and would be returning with his tail between his legs.

It was his duty, everyone would know that. It would silence the overt grumblings about his ability to command but the covert?

Kitt decided to head north just far enough to enter into the the southerly routes used by English merchantmen on voyages from Port-au-Paix back to the Bahamas. That would give anyone the appearance that he was beating it north for Bahamas and the aegis of the Royal Navy. However, he had not intent to go that far. He merely waited a day and a half, sailing northwards, until he saw a British ship.

It was a merchantmen set out from Haiti. Kitt laid the Vainglorious along side and jotted off a quick report to the Governor. He had the jolly boat lowered and ordered them to make for the merchantman and instruct them to take his report at all speed to Nassau.

His report gave his observations of Cayona Harbor and the subsequent persuit by the French-built frigate. He even tore the flag sketches out of his log and pinned them to the report. He had no doubt that the slow merchantmen would not reach Nassau as quickly as his ship would, but he'd left explanation for his conduct in the report as well. He stated that he would remain off Tortuga and do his best to attain more intelligence as to the purposes of this pirate flotilla and the intentions of the French concerning said flotilla.

Presently, Kitt was standing on the quarterdeck addressing Mister Lawrence and Chris Quigley. "So there you have it, gentleman. That is how we will infiltrate the pirate den and suss out what their devilish plans are. Any questions?"

Chris Quigley looked sheepish and hadn't spoken up at all. He was looking at the floor, wringing his hands. He shook his head no. Kitt patted him on the shoulder, a soft, delicate shoulder, not the gawky, boney shoulder he would have expected of a growing young man. "You'll do well, miboy. Don't worry."

Kitt turned to Mister Lawrence. His face was screwed up so that it looked like a dishrag being wrung out. The older pirate was pondering something heavily. "Thar be sumpin' I kannae un'er'tand, cap'in."

The Captain resisted the urge to sigh. "Yes, Mister Lawrence?"

"Well, sur, it be dis. We go ashore, swaggerin' inta Cayona like a snook'd cock, aye?"

Kitt blinked for a moment as he decoded it with difficulty. "Yessss, Mister Lawrence. We go ashore, disguised as mere pirates. As you have a notable and accepted presence on Tortuga, we will utilize that to gain intelligence as to the plans of the pirates and the Frenchmen."

Larry nodded. "Aye, I t'ought so, cap'in. So I be actin' all gussied up like I found El Derato meself, aye? Young Kitt here and yerself, old Kitt thar, be posin' as me crew? Him bein' me stew'rd and ya as me cap'in fer I ain't got the parts fer it bein' old and tattered a might." He waved his hook for effect.

Kitt hissed a breath out to try and hold onto his patience. "Yes, Mister Lawrence, that is an apt summary of my plan in authentic pirate."

"Aye, thankee, cap'in"

Kitt nodded. "No problem, Mister Lawrence. Now we..."

"One mer question, sur."

This time Kitt did sigh. "Yes, Mister Lawrence?"

"Why?" Larry looked generally confused.

Kitt looked generally stunned towards livid. "Have I not said it already, Mister Lawrence? Good God, man! We need to find out what the pirates and frogs are up to!"

Larry shook his head. "Naw, sur, it not be dat. I mint why go ter all dat fuss, what wit' goin' inta Cayona...when we can lay outside dat cove and convince dem at the mouth of da Vainglory's guns." Larry pointed his hook over Kitt shoulder.

Kitt spun about and saw a narrow opening in the cliffs. The cove, perhaps a fjord? No, only if it was in Scandanavia, but what ever it was properly termed, there was a sleek frigate anchored inside.

A cry of 'Ship to port' rang down from the sheets. It was slower than Larry's notice of the ship, but probably the right amount of time to do a double take as the brig crossed in front of the narrow cove and the frigate appeared. It would seem that Mister Lawrence knew something about this cove.

"So this is where you intended to hide the Vainglorious, Mister Lawrence?" Kitt asked as he admired the clean lines of the anchored frigate.

"Aye, sur, beggin' yer per-don. No way a'knowin' it'd be ock-you-pied at the moment...but dat's da Lover's Bite or me name ain't Larry...which it is."

Lover's Bite? No..it couldn't be.. Kitt thought. The famed Pirate Queen's ship? The same ship that terrorized goodly merchantmen all along the Spanish Main? The ship of the woman that as rumor had it, but was probably more than rumor, encouraged husbands to beat their wives lest they gain the silly notion that they too could be pirate wenches and raid and pillage? And it was under his guns?

"Bloody hell..." Kitt breathed.

Mister Lawrence leaned forward, grinning like a mad man. "Aye, I tink dat wart sweet Morgan'll be sayin' if'n she sees the good Vainglory sittin' off her."

"How do you know that is, in fact, the Lover's Bite?"

"Crewed on her I did. Twice. Ol'Morgan's fair cap'in and, beggin' the cap'in per-don, easier on the eyes than yerself. Eh? Eh?" With those last words, Larry was nudging young Chris Quigley in the ribs, in a suggestive, shared innuendo. The blusing Quigley seemed to share the innuendo but not wish to pass it on.

Kitt stared out at the Lover's Bite. He did not know if Captain Black Morgan was wanted for piracy by the British Crown, but in any case perhaps he could convince her to supply him with information as to the goings-on in Cayona. After the events of three days ago, the island must be rife with rumor and gossip and by this point any rumor or gossip would do.

"Mister Lawrence, please give the order to slip the wind from our sails and anchor here. Please place another anchor to stern so we might keep our station and facing with the port broadside towards the Lover's Bite." Kitt stayed at the port railling, stunned and also a bit despressed.

"Aye aye, cap'in! Come young Quigley. Cap'in Kitt might want to be alone. Twas a good plan he t'ought up." Larry hobbled away from the port railing, and Chris trailed after him.

Kitt beat a fist on the railing. It wasn't fair. All that work, getting those rediculous pirate costumes made, explaining it three times to Larry and Chris, and he can just point and say 'ask them?' It wasn't fair. It really wasn't.

"Captain, Captain, come quick we have trouble" Baron Samadhi, whispered in his broad Jamacian accent, wanting to wake Morgan as gently as possible.

Once informed as to exactly what said trouble was Morgan cursed roundly then took a leisurely two hours to wake, break her fast and dress. And it was the dressing that took the longest, as she wanted to look her most intimidating best when she accosted what ever fool of a captain that had the temerity to block Her in.

"Baron, lower the jolly boat and I want you at my back with Ogre, Troll, Gog and Magog at the oars. The four brothers made a fear inspiring backdrop, a they most surely fit their names - though if the truth was told the lot preferred to play chess and knit rather than fight - and they were deadly fighters, for despite their seemingly muscle bound bulks they were light and nimble on their feet.

But Morgan was always willing to use their craggy, heavy browed visages and menacing bulk to bluff with. It galled her to no end that most men would see the brothers and turn pale with fear, while with her all they wanted to do was get her into bed.

The good baron nodded happily for that meant he could don his favored attire and paint his face. He'd never filed his teeth as some cannibals did but his vast array of shrunken heads, and art he'd learned in the South Seas - made one think he was. And the crisscrossed bandoliers of finely crafted throwing knives would give a bully pause if the gnarled heads didn’t.

Once she was dressed to her satisfaction...thigh boots that clung to her long legs like lovers, their gleaming black leather butter soft and supple, with gold and emerald buckles at the knees, and red Spanish heels. The boots all but hid well-cut pants of ebon linen. Her shirt was a lustrous white silk with Mesclin lace frothing at the wrists and throat, the lace jabot held by a stick pin that matched the buckles and it's center emerald, from the most renown mines in the Spanish held New World, was magnificent.
Then her sword harness, that went from her left shoulder to her right hip. She liked the way it emphasized her cleavages. Most men spent far too long looking at that rather than what the cutlass, forged in the caves of Salamanca, it had held was doing. Generally at the cost of their lives.
A broad black sash wrapped tightly at her waist and she thrust a pair of pisotles into it as well as a pair of daggers set for throwing in the back
A greatcoat of fine scarlet wool with elegant gold bouillon braiding went on over her shoulders. Morgan had used it as an impromptu cape in the past whirling it off to be thrown in an opponents face or over their sword.

She turned slowly nodding in satisfaction at her reflection in the cheval glass mirror. Her glossy ravens wing hear fell about her shoulders under a Cavaliers hat of beaver fur felt with ornate ostrich plumes and ostrich tail feathers draping down.

“Captain” The baron bowed deply when she stepped out of her cabin and came on deck. He lowered the spy glass with which he ahd been observing the blockading craft. “It’s the brig that fires on the harbor two days ago and Laurence is aboard.”

“So that’s how they knew of the cove. I’d been wondering it it was honest knowledge or the devils” She replied calmly before calling over her second mate and giving her a set of very detailed instruction. At her orders snipers scampered up the rat lines and the prow gun was loosed on it’s swivel. Then with agile grace she climbed down into the jolly boat - the baron hard on her heels -and had the brother Grimm row her with in hailing distance of the bring. She noted with wry respectfulness that the brig was trim and well kept. The captain might be marginally competent, but to have shipped Larry… That took a special canniness that concerned her. Though Morgan would not let is show.

“Ho the ship. I say, you’ve chosen a rather awkward place to drop anchor.”

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
Just Outside the Fjord..Crevice...Hole in the Wall...Harbouring the Lover's Bite

A figure came to the brig's port railing. He stood there sipping from a white, porcelain tea cup. He was dressed in resplendent scarlett coat that was edged with enough gold embroidery and eppaulets for two Admirals in the Royal Navy. His black tricorn hat was accented with a long, pure white ostrich feather. A brace of pistols crossed his chest and a cutlass lay against his hip. He seemed a very bombastic, flamboyant character utterly unconcerned with Captain Morgan's challenge or the frighten men with her.

Frankly, Kitt felt like an idiot. He was dressed in one of Mister Lawrence's costumes though he was baffled as to why he'd be have one of these. Also, Kitt wasn't at all unconcerned with the men with Captain Morgan. He might have felt secure with her alone. For all her reputation, which was considerable, she was a woman after all. But those men...dear God.

He took another sip and nonchantly, a very hard task mind you, perched himself up on the railing and looked back. Seeing the four gargoyles and the mad hoodoo priest in the jolly boat with Captain Morgan, he'd hastily ordered Mister Quigley to muster his Quasi-Marines and begin drilling them on the desk. They were still a group that made Will Quigley's veins stand out on his neck as he tried to shove and push them into something that resembled Royal Marines.

Kitt glanced foward where he'd put Mister Lawrence to work running a few sword drills. He seemed to be thuroughly enjoying himself as he taught the Jingleheimerschmidts how to properly 'run a man thur and gut'em like a fish, YERR!" The Captain some how wondered how effective Mister Lawrence's sword mastery was considering all the parts of anatomy he'd lost thus far.

He took a breath to steel his courage and turned a calm, grinning face back to Captain Morgan. "Good morning to you, Madame Captain." He looked up and past her towards her ship and then up and down the coast. "It does seem an odd place to anchor a ship, but I had intended to use the berth you currently occupy, milady."

"Now what's this then?" Patrick was staring at the Vainglorious through a telescope with Teddy O'Donnell by his side. The United Irishman had patched up the holes in her hull, filled her hold with shot, powder and crew and now she was heading out to track down the Spanish Treasure Fleet. Then something had caught his eye.

Patrick did not recognise the ship that was currently keeping the Lover's Bite in harbor but he did recognise her make. She was British alright, maybe a Brig of some sort. Although whether she be Naval or not he couldn't tell. There was no Ensign of any kind but also no colours.

"Set a course for that ship, Teddy" He called to his First Mate, "Let's see what the story is here"

With that, the United Irishman, her green colours still flying high, turned slowly in the gentle breeze and headed for the Vainglorious.

(( The Bite and the Vainglory are on the north side of the island, y'all. You all were on the south side of the island. And there be miles and high hills between. ))

(( The Bite and the Vainglory are on the north side of the island, y'all. You all were on the south side of the island. And there be miles and high hills between. ))

OOC: I said my bloke had left the south, he's heading north to track the Spanish

"It does seem an odd place to anchor a ship, but I had intended to use the berth you currently occupy, milady."

Morgan was obviously unimpressed, as she stood in the prow of the boat. She'd killed better dressers that he. The coat simply was too big. Though he was managing it with a certain damnable aplomb.

However she'd never wantonly harrased the British. - And Morgan was certain he was British -She'd never fired on them unless they had fired on her first. Though no few had made that one last error. She disliked the often brain dead arrogance their officers mostly mainfested, but she could live and let live, as long as they kept their mouths shut and didn't let their pompousness out. Though this one seemed extraordinartily...something and what bothered her is she couldn't quite put her finger on that. And that uncertainty was damnably maddening. She made a long careful second appraisal of him, and her eyes sharpened ever so slightly. There I thought I remembered that eye blinder of a coat! Younger than he's trying to look and so veddy, veddy british. Cute too.

"Why then my lord captain, if you will just move your fine brig half a league, I'll be gone with the evening tide. And you may have the pleasure of occuypying this convenient nook all by your most august self" Morgan replied with an exagerated flutter of her eyelashes, a most saucy grin. And a perfect coutiers leg in the French manner - an astonishing feat in the narrow confines of a Jolly boat. "and study the kings of England, and quote the fights historical."

She raised her voice to once again address the ship, but this comment wasn't directred to the gentleman in the elaborately braided frock coat.

"Laurence, I remember that coat. It was to be worn by your very 'modern major general'. You ought to be ashamed of yourself" There definitely was a twinkle in her eye, but her voice was the very note of maidenly disparagement. "Lending out such expensive accutrements to just any Tom, Dick or Harry. You never know when it might be returned in less than perfect condition."

A series of steps and thumps could be heard as Laurence Lawrence came to the railing and leaned over. While Kitt had one bracer of pistols, Larry had two bracers of pistols, an arabian knife and a dagger in his sash, a naked cutlass in his hand, a knife in his teeth, and his sharpened hook. He smiled around the knife. "Arr, cup'in Morgum, ib be nife ta she ya!"

Kitt stopped mid sip with a confused look as he again tried to fathom the depths of Mister Lawrence. Larry pushed the knife out with his tongue until he was just holding the tip and then snapped his head to the side. The knife vibrated as it stuck into the railing. "Arr, dat be betta, aye?"

He looked down at the Baron. "Bin practicin' evar sin' I seen yer do dat at Cartagena, matey."

He looked back at Morgan. "It be gooda ya to 'member me and me Pinafore. As ta da cap'in..." The old pirate looked at Kitt. The Captain was thuroughly confused and not sure he liked the gauging look Mister Lawrence was leveling at them. "...nevar be rit' fer the mod'urn majer genureal (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vytosDX9dVM)...a role I seen fer meself. But 'e mite make a good Fred'ric..."

Kitt's eyes widened. "What the devil are you..." He stopped and finished his sip. "That'll do, Mister Lawrence."

Larry just smiled madly. Kitt looked back down at the jolly boat. He wondered if anyone had ever had full control over Laurence Lawrence, but he knew it didn't help him look like he was firmly in command...or that this wasn't his first command. "Captain Morgan, I would hate to inconvience you. In all actuality, you need not raise anchor. All I require is information, and then I will go about my business."

He looked up to see his white heart on black field ensign. His ensign was reefed again to hide Saint George's cross from the world. It would seem the wind was blowing up behind his sail so as to be hard to be seen from certain directions. He looked back down. "As you might imagine, I can't quite go into Cayona's Harbor...and it seems that my disguise is not well...inconspicuous."

"If you and your men were could come aboard, I have only a few questions." He smiled warmly. "And tea. I have tea as well, if you would like some." Oh Lord, he really didn't know what the hell he was doing. The Governor had never covered this sort of situation during his quarterdeck lessons back when Kitt had been a mere leftenant.

Having watched the two vessels for another few moments, Paddy Reynolds concluded that whatever was happening, Madame Morgan could handle it. He had bigger fish to fry. His plan was to loop around Tortuga and then sail through the Caribbean islands to avoid any Spanish Patrols. Then it was a simple matter of tracking the treasure fleet.

"Fire a four gun salute, Teddy!" He called to his First Officer, "We might as well do this properly."

A few moments, later, four guns fired one after the other, spewing dirty white smoke into the air. However, there were no splashes as the guns were empty especially for the salute. Paddy watched as Tortuga and the two vessels vanished over the horizon. Treasure beckoned, just a few sort weeks away.

"And it's nice to see you too. You are looking just splendid!" Morgan called back ,happy to see he hadn't lost any more limbs."

"Larry you have been practising!" baron roared with one of his cackling laughs. "Almost as good as me now"

Kitt would catch Morgan rolling her eyes at the excentric Larry but the look on her face was that of a woman shaking her 'pretty little head' at the actions of a favorite, if batty, old uncle.

a role I seen fer meself. But 'e mite make a good Fred'ric..."

"Oh he might at that he has that fresh faced quality you were looking for" She'd locked eyes with Kitt and there was a definite sparkle of challenge in them.

Is he blushing?...He's absolutely adorable. And I could eat him alive without even trying. But he's canny enough to ship Larry, that gives him more ballast than his appearance expresses. That coat is just the finishing touch.

"And tea. I have tea as well, if you would like some."

Morgan could amost feel the Brothers and the baron stiffing gales of laughter behind her. and it really was all she could do not to laugh herself. But she managed suitable solemnity, though she was afraid her voice trembeled just a little. 'Tea? Why that sounds absolutely marvelous..."

The sound of a four gun salute echoed over the waters surrounding the island and tiny in the distance Morgan could see Reynolds's United Irishmen piling on sail as he headed north in search of the Spanish fleet.

Damn I should be out there too! Free oh free on the wide winds once more! Part of her groused, but this hand must be played out and I need find out if this one means to try and scuttle our plans. It'd be just like an englishmans to do just that.

She signaled the brothers grim to take the boat over to the bring so she could board and meet with it's captain. In a matter of moments Morgan was allowing the Vainglorious's captain to hand her over the railing.

"You keep a tidy ship" She noted pleasantly as she looked about with a knowing and observant eye. Though Morgan's lips had twitched in a small cats grin as she saw the 'Marines' drilling.

(( Purple for Kitt? Any reason? I always saw him as a navy blue. ))

When the United Irishman fired her salute, Kitt had disappeared from the railing for a moment as Morgan had her jolly boat rowed closer. He hissed at his men, demanding to know, blasting their eyes and ordering them to unbutton their damned mouths, why no one had seen fit to warn him that an Irish frigate, an ungodly thing even to think about, was bearing down on them. They were dumb and speechless, but Kitt had to break off his hissed interrogation as he saw Morgan's hand reach up on the deck. He slid away from his crew, handing off his teacup to little Sam Quigley who was holding a serving tray.

Kitt helped Morgan up and over the railing. He marveled for a moment at her clean hand, well at least cleaner than that of a common hand about the deck, it was soft and feminine and yet still strong and rough as one would expect the hand of a sailor.

As she stood upon the brig's deck in her gleaming black, supple, soft leather thigh boots, that no doubt hid gleaming white, supple, soft thighs as Kitt and most of Vainglory's crew estimated, Kitt was struck with realization. Of course, that revelation took a few moments as his eyes traveled quickly up her figure. While the crew's eyes might have never made it to Morgan's face, Kitt's gentleman's eyes did, after lengthy rest stops at the Pirate Queen's more breath-taking vistas, reach her face. Now, climbing and mountain analogies seemed correct, at least to Kitt, for several good reasons, but the most belittling to him was that he realized she was a good inch or two taller than him, and he found himself looking slightly up at her.

Blast.

He backed away to give her room and allow her to see more of the ship, but mostly he hoped that she might attribute their difference in height to the optical illusions caused by increased distance. It was a vain hope because he was sure a yard was hardly far enough.

"You keep a tidy ship"

Kitt looked around the Vainglorious. Proud, and relieved, that she was complimenting his ship and in turn himself. "The only thing a proper captain can do with a good ship like the Vainglorious, milady."

Quigley was angry with his Quasi-Marines, angry that an Irish rabblerouser had gotten away, and now angry at the smug, little smile that Captain Morgan was giving his Marines. He, and Captain Gunasontree, was the only one who could take mirth out of the extremely poor state of his troops. The tall Quigley was red in the face, and he wasn't fighting away blushing like Kitt was.

From the Quigley down the line of Marines showed the varying reactions that one could have to the Pirate Queen's presence. After Quigley's general anger at the world, you had anger at Morgan for being a woman in command of a pirate ship, fear of Morgan because she was in command of a pirate ship, out and out lechery, envy of Morgan's boots, and finally at the other end of the line was Chris Quigley's clear envy of Morgan being a woman in command of a pirate ship and wearing those boots. The middle Quigley sibling's reaction was without a doubt out of place, but the Vainglory's crew wasn't looking at Chris at the moment as their attention was on Morgan.

"Shall we follow the Irishmen, Kyaputen?"
Ro-zu looked sternly out from next to the helm on the Kouro. Without looking at the crewmen, he answered. "No, plot a course for the base. We will need to prepare there for the Spanish Treasure Fleet, gathering the ships and bringing on supplies." The Kouro was stationed on the south side of the island, where it had originally docked, and was about to move away from the pirate port. From there Ro-zu would sail her to his island base, where he would bring the Shikyo and the Binshou, as well as most of the thousand odd pirates under his command, to bear on the Spanish. That gold, silver, gems and anything else they were transporting was his. Barring, of course, what the Lady or Captain Reynolds were able to capture. The Kouro slowly pulled out of the harbor and made for the exit of the port, away to the maze of islands that were the Carribean.

OOC: Ha! I thought so!
OOC2: Sorry, just go Blue then purple out of habit. I'll make sure that Kitt is properly Navy from now on...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morgan knew they were looking and snorted deep in the privacy of her thoughts Isn't that just like men. Give them a fair body and they have no thought of the mind behind a pair of batted eyelashes, though at least the Captain is better than his peers that I've met. And standing height makes not onw whit of difference in bed. Though I definitely do not have time to get to know him. And If I did... I might well just end up wanting to take a sword to him. Worthwhile men are just simply rare as hens teeth

Morgan well know the rumors- she'd helped create more than a few herself, but the unvarnished truth was that she had had vanishingly few lovers. The Captain of the Lovers Bitewas extremely choosy about whom she let get that close to her, but it was simply easier, and often better to let others think she had all the morals of a cat in heat. Though her high standards didn't keep her from looking. Men were so fun to watch...as they generally made fools of themselves.

"The only thing a proper captain can do with a good ship like the Vainglorious, milady."


"Then you'd be surprized how many improper captains there are out there. Now just out of sheer curosity... why in the name of Davey Jone's lost locker did you sail in full bore, firing on Cayona harbor these three days past?" Morgan couldn't help the bemused laugh that spilled out "If you were upset over the lack of space at the warves you simply should have waited a bit. Though it was just about the last bit of excitement the docks needed. You missed the orientals going to war!"

(( What's the number one OOC refering? ))

Kitt smiled a bit, a trickle of smugness feeding into it. Ah, a bit more control, he felt better now, more manly. "If you will recall, madam, I did not fire on Cayona. I fired merely at the Floating Mary hoping to encourage a change in the former part of her name. As for the chinamen, I saw the tail end of that unfortunate business. What was it over, I wonder?"

OOC: Wouldn't you like to know?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As for the chinamen, I saw the tail end of that unfortunate business. What was it over, I wonder?"

"Oh that? Differences as to which of them is Lord of the South China Sea. And you might want to be carefull in the future, only one was a chinaman, the one that fled. Lord Ro- zu is form the Japans and the loser is Chinese -there is a huge difference between the two, or so it seems. Ro- zu is trustworthy and has his own honor. The other does not. Now if that is the information you sought, you simply could have come to town and asked."

Her teeth flashed strong and white against the pale gold of her light tan, "But then again none there take any too kindly to official questioning. Why don't we have that tea someplace comfortable."

(( I would. ))

"Tea then? If you'll follow me." Kitt turned to stern and walked towards the quarterdeck. Sam Quigley had already scurried up the stairs in front of them. Kitt has a momentary urge to wait at the foot of the stairs to the quarterdeck and fake a gentlemanly notion to help her up or allow her up first. However, chivalry was not the impetus to that thought. On the contrary, he estimated he'd have a golden opportunity to view her generous, feminine fantail. Kitt instead continued up the stairs first, as his more logical half of his mind stepped in. He was sure that plan would only lead a bloody end for him.

On the quarterdeck, Kitt had a small table, which actually his desk out of his cramped quarters, set up with two chairs, which were his and Mister Quigley's chairs. He graciously waved her over to the table, holding a chair out for her. "None of my questions are in any official capacity. I am merely a privateer much as you are, Captain. But as an Englishman, it disturbs me that Irishmen and Frenchmen are huddled conspiratorially in, well pardon the strong nature of my words, a den of scum and villiany."

~~~~~~~

Bart Quigley strode up to the Brothers Grimm. He was roughly their height, over six feet tall, but he was only half...well seeing as there were four of them, an eighth their size. Still he stood resolutely in front of them, musket on his shoulder, a pistol and boarding axe in his belt, and a cutlass on hip. He looked them over and then back at his gaggle of Quasi-Marines. His look was gauging as if trying to estimate how many of the Brothers he'd have to take to in a potential fight. He looked back at his troop for a moment. Yep, he'd probably have to take three...and probably the fourth after he finished with Quigley's Quasi-Marine.

He's either arrogant or trusting enought to be a fool to let me at his back Morgan thought as she followed him up to the quarter deck and yet he is canny enough to keep me where all can witness any untoward action. Damn is eyes.. She swore mentally Men, more trouble than they're worth. So lets get these questions and answers over and done with, then I can be free and back at on the oceans wildness, free to spread my wings and fly far from all men too handsome for my own good. Fly toward vengance

Gracefully she took the seat he held out for her and allowed him to play the gentleman. A ghost from her past whispered in her ear, and annoyedly she ignored it.

"None of my questions are in any official capacity. I am merely a privateer much as you are, Captain. But as an Englishman, it disturbs me that Irishmen and Frenchmen are huddled conspiratorially in, well pardon the strong nature of my words, a den of scum and villiany."

"I'll take your word for being a privateer as much as you'll take mine?" She arched a delicate eye brow at him, her dark blue eyes holding a not so buried sardonic gleam. "How refreshing to meet so puritan a fellow as yourself."

Morgan laughed "And Cayona is no worse than many a city here on the 'new side' of the world. The British, Dutch, and French - you all send your refuse and rebellious here, so what do you expect? Pillars of rectitude? ...and the Spanish..." Oh the tone in her voice for that last word made it a epithet of the most foul sort 'They only want to plunder and destroy, as is their ages old wont." Her eyes held a world of unveiled hostility for those of that nationality, but her...dislike...of them was legendary.

"And as to what the Irish and the French are up to?" She shrugged lightly "No one bothered to inform me, so I haven't the faintest notion" Oh that last was an absolute lie, she had plenty of good guess work, though nothing had been said 'directly' to her by Captain Reynolds.

She took a sip of tea, letting her eyes droop close momentarily as more memories rose to flit across the backs of her eye lids. The warmth of a crackling fire, the feel of fine silks against her skin, the merry notes of a popular carole. Her pleasure at being treated to adult tea though she was but ten. Her beautiful mother's fine Castillian accent, that of the highest circles of the Spanish Court, against the richer tones of her fathers deep Scottish brogue that nearly twenty years in the Court of Saint James had never completely errased. Blinking back a sudden prickle of tears Morgan set the cup down with a carefullness she did not feel and began to stand. "Well if you have had your curiosity assauged, I will be on my way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brothers looked at Bart and one lifted a corner of a lip for just a second. Other than that they simply ignored him.

Ro-zu smiled as his own little private port (http://www.ascaron.com/gb/gb_tortuga2/screenshots/show_screenshots.php?Bild=20070219_131324.jpg&Nr=1) came into view. Sailing though the gap, the Kouro elegantly went to dock. Also floating in the port waters was the Binshou (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/SongJunk.jpg) a small grappling ship that would be essential in attacking the Treasure Fleet, but the one that drew the eye was the massive bulk of the Shikyo (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/5/54/ChineseJunkKeying.jpg)
Translating as "Death" into English, the 420 foot long, 180 foot wide junk was actually Chinese, captured from them in a daring raid by Ro-zu, picking a treasure junk off the back of the Chinese flank and being halfway over the horizon before they'd realized what had happened. That had been one of his few night assaults, and had worked spectacularly.

As the Kouro docked and the gangplank extended Ro-zu walked though the crowd of waiting pirates, who hudled close as food and drink was passed down from the ship, but were careful not to jostle him. Scaling the heights of the stone and wood watchtower with cannons in it, Ro-zu stood at the highest point, looking down on the assembled black and Asian men, who all stared respectfully up at him. Nearly a thousand strong, Ro-zu had his own small fleet and private army, recruited from anyone who was loyal and willing. His second-in-command on the island, a monsteriously huge African named Jager, stood on his right beside, armed to the teeth, and his First Mate, a Japanese like himself, on his right. Ro-zu raised his hand, and the entire crowd was silenced, a testament to the respect and awe he inspired among his men. Ro-zu's fine Japanese features gazed out, unmarred by dirt or grime, dressed in ripped pirate clothing and armed with so many knives and pistols one would swear he clanked when he walked. In a ringing voice he spoke in English, translated by Jager into various African or Carribean dialects, and the First Mate into Japanese and Chinese, all alternating. Naturally this took some time, but it worked.

"My crew, my men, my brothers: I come with good news. There is a Treasure Fleet, Spanish, sailing from the New World back to Spain with their loads of gold, silver, gems and other precious items. In exactly a days time, we, along with two other pirate Captains, will assault this fleet, taking the treasure. Think of it, my brothers. Tons of treasure, out there, ours for the taking! The Spanish are slow, poorly armed and cowardly, unescorted and unalert. We will decimate them, taking what is theres for us. With what is stored on those ships, we can all live comfortably, for the rest of our lives! With what they have, we can live," he smiled ominiously, face in shadow from the overhanging of straw, "like kings."

By the end his men were cheering, screaming and yelling with a mix of greedy desire and anger. So many of them, African and Asian, had been subjected to European rule. Their families and friends, killed or forced into slavery. And the Spanish were a big player. Now it came time.
For anger.
For untold riches.
For revenge.
Of course, Ro-zu had no intention of sharing all the treasure with all his men. Doing so, even with the massive amount of it, would leave each man with very little. So he would dole it out with discretion, granting boons to men who proved themselves and Lieutenants like the First Mate and Jager. Such would ensure the crew's morale, but allow Ro-zu to keep the vast majority of what he captured. Because there was really, aside from a son, only one thing Ro-zu wanted in the world:
Retirement.
But he had a long way to go, until then. He would need to pull this operation off perfectly, or risk losing everything.

(( Oi, Xiscapia, can you put an extra line after each line of text? It's hard to read like that. ))

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
North of Tortuga
A Tea Party with Captain Morgan and Captain Gunasontree

Kitt watched the Pirate Queen, quietly sipping his tea with his pinky properly held out. He narrowed his eyes as if he could see her mind behind her momentarily closed eyelids. As she set her teacup down and began to stand, the Englishman lowered his cup from his lips but held it above the saucer.

"Well if you have had your curiosity assauged, I will be on my way."

His smile drained away as he looked at Morgan, evaluating her. "A moment please, Miss." He held her eyes as he turned his head slightly towards the maindeck and called out, "Mister Lawrence, the quarterdeck, if you could."

They could hear a steady thump at Larry made his way across the deck. He strode between the Brothers Grimm and Bart Quigley who was now estimating how many knife wounds he'd have to take when Samedi got into any potential fight. Larry hobbled around Chris Quigley who was trying to give the elder Quigley a hint to stop standing there like a strutting peacock.

He turned his face fully towards her. "I suppose you think me a fool. I understand, and you probably are correct. However, I have heard that the Lord looks after fools and children. So in your eyes I am not doubt twice blessed."

Kitt heard Larry's wooden leg thump on the stairs to the quarterdeck. "With Msiter Lawrence's company, I'm perhaps thrice blessed."

"So gut o'ya ta say so, cap'in." Larry commented as he pulled himself onto the quarterdeck by digging his hook into the quarterdeck's railing. He still held a naked cutlass and was maniacally armed to the teeth, only a fear for his tongue prevent arming his teeth.

"So with the Lord's blessing on occasion, I do gain epiphanies, madam." He took a slow sip, holding his gaze on her. He lowered his cup again. "When I was attempting to amend the Floating Mary's name, I did notice a lady run down to a pier out from Cayona proper. She was rather comely as I remember, much as you are, if I am not too bold to say so. However, oddly enough she was wearing trousers...a trait much in common with women who are attempting to prove a point to a man-dominated field such as sailing or piracy. Much the same as you Captain Morgan, in fact I know of no other woman pirate, and those stories tend to spread through the Islands quite quickly."

He slowly set his tea cup on his saucer. He called to young Sam Quigley. "A refill please, lad." Sam moved across the deck to the Captain's side and began refilling his teacup. Sam's eyes were wide as Kitt's saucer and constantly shifting between Kitt and Morgan. Kitt's were still on Morgan. "Now before I was routed by the Frenchmen, I did spy the Irish frigate careening in Cayona. And not long ago, that same Irish frigate sees us talking and chooses to fire a salute? No, madame, you have a good deal more than a 'faint notion' of what is going on with the pirates, the Irish, and the French."

With the teacup full, Sam Quigley edged in behind Captain Gunasontree. Kitt straightened up from the comfortable lean he'd taken thus far in his chair. "I must know what they are planning, Miss Morgan. That many pirates do not congeal together just to sup and carouse with worse company that they could already manage. No, something is afoot. England has not quarrel with you for there is no warrant for your capture residing with the governor in Nassau, and you, seemingly, have no quarrel with England. Thus I have no quarrel with you, Captain Morgan, but I have severe doubts about intentions of your...compatriots such as the Irish captain."

"A hint perhaps? If it has nothing to concern England, I have no duty or reason to interfere with you further." He stopped, blowing on his tea.

OOC: Holy shit, 'tis alive! Recap anyone?

(( To the OOC Thread, Robin! ))

The trip between the islands was quiet and awkward. None of the crew were in a good mood and that was for a very good reason. The reason none of them were happy was because Paddy Reynolds was in a foul mood. And when he was in a bad mood, people tended to swim alongside his ship, tied to the stern.

He was in a bad mood because he has not seen hide nor hair of the Spanish Fleet. Nothing, not a jot, not even a sail. It was annoying him. He knew the Spanish would send Frigates into the islands to act as outriders. To clear Privateers and Pirates out of the Islands. He was there to take his place as one of those outriders.

Stored in a locker on his poop deck were a series of flags. His own, a Spanish ensign, a French one and a British one. They were there in case some 1st Rater decided to test him out. He also had signal flags for each of the navies as well as a set of British merchant ensigns. At the moment, he was flying the white Spanish flag with red cross. He was waiting for the hulking galleons to come out across the water when he could slip in as one of their escorts. The best way to take apart a convoy was from within and he was going to prove that by joining the Spanish Fleet. His mood was starting to pick up already at the thought of being let loose amongst the Spanish Treasure Fleet.

Thus I have no quarrel with you, Captain Morgan, but I have severe doubts about intentions of your...compatriots such as the Irish captain. A hint perhaps? If it has nothing to concern England, I have no duty or reason to interfere with you further."

Morgan grinned cheekily "I have nothing to prove to any one, and surely even you sir will admit that wearing skirts aboard a ship asea is as foolish a notion as that of those new fangled corsets. I have no desire to faint much less die for fashion."

Her gaiety faded and her eyes went cold. "Don't all me a liar sir, and where I make an appearance is purely of my choosing. If I were in Cayona" And her eyes caught and held his "Well there is little place else on that Tortuga to be and even if I were there; it does not necessarily follow that I know what the French and the Irish were about. As to the salute? Even such as I have friends, and one troubled themselves enought to salute me; which means little other than to let me know they had spied me. What in the tidy environs of Grosnover square, or the bridle paths of Hyde Park is simply a gentleman tipping his hat to a lady."

Her eyes went sad for a second "And no I might account you British and therefore blind, but you are no fool and not as young as your fair cheeks might suggest."

"You must know what they are planning?" Her voice was laden with sarcasm as she mimiced him.

"I'll give you this to ease your mind, though it is the only gift I'll give you and don't ask me my I trouble myself. Take a moment and think as to whom I make the subject of my endeavors, and let you mind go back to its comfortable regime."

"Good day. Larry convince him to move, and know even after this you still are welcome aboard the Bite"

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
North of Tortuga
A Sadly Concluded Tea Party with Captain Morgan and Captain Gunasontree

Larry still stood at the top of the stairs, blocking Morgan's way. "Thankee, Cap'in Morgan. Kine' word from ya all-way warms me heart. 'Owevar." He ran his hook up his cutlass as if sharpening it. "Ya know me first loyalty be ta meself. Next, be to me cap'in, that bein' Cap'in Goonass-ontree."

Kitt frowned as Larry mangled his name horribly. Larry paid no notice. "All else bein' aft' dem two tings. So I not be co-vincin'em to do a damn ting, lass. He be da one doin' da co-vincin' here aboots." That was the trouble with that batty old uncle. You never knew if you'd ever seen him at his battiest or when a dangerous bout of lucidity might strike. He glanced past her as he ran his hook back down his cutlass. "Cap'in, by 'er soob-ject of 'er endevars, she be meanin' da Dagos bass'tars."

Kitt blinked at Mister Lawrence for a long moment. "The Spanish?" That slowly ran through his head. Counter to her lies, and yes, he knew...or thought with quite a bit of conviction, that she was lying...that she was in cahoots with the French and the Irish and all the other pirates in Cayona. But what would require that many ships and draw a bunch of lawless, morally-flexible group of scallywags behind one common purpose? That question ran aground on the present time of year. "Great Scott...mid-Spring!"

He bolted up from his chair, almost stumbling to the deck before he caught himself. "The Flota de Indias? The Plate Fleet?" He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

She'd hidden her ship away thus placing her most important possession out of reach of the in-fighting and potential raiding in Cayona Harbor. And she had been running circles around him during their short time together. He glanced down at the Brothers Grimm and Baron Samedi. Pirates were a libertine lot that followed a strange anarchy loosely governed by merit. For a woman to rise to the top would take uncommon ability. He glanced back at her, so she wasn't just a woman after all.

"Cap'in, by 'er soob-ject of 'er endevars, she be meanin' da Dagos bass'tars."

"Larry!" Then she snorted and shook her head. No she couldn't fault his loyality. She'd depended upon it too often in the past "Yes the Spanish" And the hatred in her voice was almost palpable.

Morgan half considered simply going around Larry by jumping off of the quarterdeck. Then she sighed again. This was getting damned tiresome.


The Flota de Indias? The Plate Fleet?"

Moving in close, so that her body blocked his, she grabbed his upper arm tightly and spoke low, her lips close to his "Don't shout it to the four winds. You're wrong in thinking that I'd let every one of those fools in on it. Of course its the fleet. Under manned, under guned and massively over laden."

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
North of Tortuga
A Potential Murder Scene

Some heads had turned at Kitt's words. Larry glanced over his shoulder to see attention turning their way. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. Theatrically it seemed to project without seeming like he was shouting. "Tis a gut idear, cap'in, boot usin' a Dago Treasure Feet in me plays be a might dif-feet-cult. Wher'in I be findin' enuff eunuchs to be pertrayin' all 'dem Dagos?"

He launched into a long story about a planned play about pirates. The protagonist, Captain Jaques Toucan, is a high unsuccessful but famous pirate, cast away on a spit of land by his mutinious crew. The crew is damned for stealing heathen gold, and they walk about as ghosts in moonlight. Larry allowed, depressed that it was too bad that even the ingenuity of man hadn't devised a way to realistically portray the appearance of men so evil hell itself spat them back up. The crew of the Vainglorious quickly lost interest. There was no way anyone would ever pay to suffer through this in a theater.

Kitt at first tried to back away but then froze still as Morgan closed in on him. Her words were sharp, her tone was severe, and he felt cowed. However she was so close. Her lips so near. Voices warred inside his head. "Carpe diem, you rakish devil!" "You will die. You do know that? Would it be worth it?" "It wouldn't be gentlemanly to molest a lady in such ways."

Kitt listened to his Ego, Common Sense, and Chivlary, respectively. He gave them weight he thought they deserved. He waited for a few heartbeats, so close to Captain Morgan. He slipped his free arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, pressing her to him and his lips to hers.

He reckoned that Morgan was not a definitive example of a lady by most people standards. And Kitt wasn't know for his Common Sense. He was known for his naval skill when his Ego didn't get in the way.

Morgan's eyes flew wide at the liberty that this unintroduced man was taking with her and she stiffened for a heartbeat, caught between killing him and going with the kiss. It was his boldness that swayed her, that and the honesty of the kiss. With a small mumur she let him hold her, letting him feel her body laying along his, her eyes locked with his... and returned the kiss.

She sighed when it ended and her whisper was meant for him alone "Lover, you don't know how sorry I am to do this, but you have to earn the next one..." And with that her right fist came out of nowhere crashing firmly on his chin with a jar he could feel through out his entire body. As he swayed under the force of the blow she moved

Morgan had his right wrist and was behind him, torqueing it up behind his back while she pressed herself against him, useing him as a shield from any snipers in the ratline that thought they might take advantage of their position. Her breath was warm on the back of his neck as she whipsered to him, words only he could hear. The other hand had a razor sharp knife at Kitts throat, just so the Vain Glorious's crew had an understanding of exactly how things stood.

Then she was calling out to her First Mate "Baron, ready the boat, we'll be returning to the Bite any moment now"

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
North of Tortuga
A Potential Kitt-napping

There were no snipers on the ratlines. Actually there was only one person who qualified as a sniper, and he was Bart Quigley. Bart spun as the men had started to cheer at their Captain's actions. The cheers died as Morgan gave him an uppercut and spun around behind him nimble as a cat to place her knife against Kitt's throat. Bart's musket had come up to waist level, but it was only half-cocked, and he'd need it at his shoulder to take any shot.

He growled to himself. Of all the stupid, addle-pated things the Captain had done since Quigley had known him, this might top them all. Quilgey shot a glance back to his Quasi-Marines. Most were shocked to petrification. A few more quick-witted among them, a very, very small proportion, were raising their muskets. "Lower'em, boys. Ya aren't gunna help the captain one bit." They'd probably shoot him instead.

Bart flashed a glance over to Chris who was blushing and all but giggling. He squinted his eyes and looked at the Pirate Queen and Kitt, what was she whispering and what was Chris getting out of this?

~~~

Kitt swallowed heavily but stopped as his adam's apple pressed on the knife's edge. His eyes flicked over towards Larry. The old pirate looked gleeful as a father watching his children achieve new heights of greatness. Larry was making note of this. It would make great material for his next opera "the Pirate Queen," the story of a jaded and successful pirate woman who was wooed by the niave and reckless rake-hell attitude of a Navy captain, a story of forbidden love. The publishers in London would love it. That was of course, if she didn't cut his throat her and now and escape back to the island. Cutthroat...hmm...Cutthroat Island...catchy name.

He didn't think she'd kill him. The kiss seemed guinuine but so had that punch. Her whispers in his ear, her warm breath on his neck, and her soft, feminine curves pressed against him were enough to convince his Ego, with a healthy amount of persuasion from his loins, that he was still on the up and up. His Common Sense was still crying, "I told you so, blast your eyes!" His Chivalry merely confirmed that Captain Morgan was in fact not a lady by most definitions. Ladies did not nearly knock men off their feet and hold knives to their throats.

Kitt summoned up all the calm he had left. "Mister Lawrence, would you move please? It seems that Captain Morgan has a previous appointment that she must attend to with all haste."

Larry smiled and slid to one side of the stairs. He perched himself on the railing and sheathed his cutlass, still beaming madly.

Whilst the various other captains were making love, chasing after the Spanish, or doing various other piratical activities, Mahmoud was still in Tortuga, trying vainly to get out to sea again. After all, he had come to Tortuga looking for a berth to lick his wounds and keep the Alexandria from sinking completely. So far, he was failing.
Having missed the action in Tortuga and currently (and unknowingly) missing the "action" on the Vainglorious, Mahmoud was left to stand on the deck of his beloved ship, directing in its repairs.
"Aaqil! Allah curse your grave, keep that rum away from that flame! Nasih, Raghib! Secure the ratlines! Alfred, keep the dam mast up!" Turning to the open seas, Mahmoud scanned the horizon for any distant ships, but he could see none. Tortuga was deserted, which in Mahmouds' mind was the worst thing Tortuga could be. If there wasn't any excitement, he would have to set out again in search of some. BANG!
"LAND HOOOOooooo......" Mahmoud didn’t bother to turn around. He would have to talk to Aaqil about handling gunpowder. Then he could go find more excitement that wouldn't tear his ship apart.

"Mister Lawrence, would you move please? It seems that Captain Morgan has a previous appointment that she must attend to with all haste."

"You could do great things, if only you wern't British" Morgan's soft whisper contained a vast gulf of ...something, though her audience of one couldn't be wuite sure of what "or rise above it. I've given you more clues than I should, so I must be off. Thank you for the tea, I often forget how steading to the nerves it is." Then her lips were planting a feather light kiss on the back of his neck.

The long boat has cleared the shadow of the brig.

Seconds later she was gone, her knife homed as quickly as it had been unsheathed "If you want me, you'll have to return this to me in person." And Kitt found her sweeping feathered hat tossed directly into his face as Morgan sprinted towards the ships railing.

OOC: So what has happened since it died? Where can I jump back in?

OOC: Not much, just read over the last few pages. It's not that hard to follow.

Kitt caught the thrown hat out of the air. He was still in a daze. He was punch drunk and from more than Morgan's brutal left uppercut. His mind snapped back in as he watched her sprint for the railing. He staggered forward after her.

Quigley lowered the butt of his musket to the deck. He begrudgingly nodded his admiration for Morgan. She was certainly a clever vixen. One of his marines stepped up, raising his musket to his shoulder. Quigley reached out and pulled the muzzle down to the deck. "A bit late, boyo."

Just as it was a bit late for Kitt - he would have needed to sprint himself to have caught Morgan.

She gained the railing, then in a brazen move spun about watching Kitt stagger toward her. Then Morgan gave him a deep bow, balancing easily on the railing, and as she straightened she blew Kitt a kiss calling "You will have to be more nimble than that."

With that taunt Morgan spun about once again pushing off in a lovely arcing dive that saw her cleaving the clear blue waters cleanly. After almost touching the sea bottom she surfaced and with out a backward look began swimming strongly for the Lovers Bite, which was racing forth to meet her, the afternoon breeze off of the island belling her sheets. Two ropes trailed over the frigates side - one for the jolly boat the other for Morgan.

Kitt reached the railing and leaned heavily on it. He watched Morgan cutting through the waves, so smooth, enjoying the water like a dolphin. He stood there, her chapeau gripped firmly in his head, watching her diminish.

Larry thumped down on to the deck from the railing and hobbled over towards Kitt. Heavy boots on the stairs heralded Bart Quigley's approach. Kitt vaguely sensed their company on either side of him.

Larry cleared his throat. "Cap'in mightn't ya stop ad-mirrin' the lass's breaststroke."

"She strokes breasts well." Kitt said absentmindedly, not paying any attention to the world behind a narrow cone about the Pirate Queen.

Larry leaned back at shot an one-eyed glance at Bart who was rolling his eyes. Quigley took a deep breath and bellowed "Admiral on deck!"

Kitt nearly jumped to the foretop and spun about looking for this wraith like admiral that had ambushed him. A glance around deck brought Kitt turning on Quigley with a scowl. "Thank you very much, Mister Quigley." Each word was bitten off with indignation.

Bart's face was impassive but focused on the bay windward of them. "Happy to be of service, sir. I thought you might want to address that." He nodded towards something behind Kitt.

The Captain turned around to see the Lover's Bite pulling out of the bay. He glanced at it and then the open sea around them. "Yes, quite, Mister Quigley. Hands to raise anchor!" He bellowed to the crew. The hands rand back towards the capistan. It would take longer because they'd have to raise two anchors.

Quigley glanced at his captain and then at the pirate frigate. "She'll cross our T, sir. We'll not have time to raise them."

Kitt stared at Morgan as she reached the line trailng for her in the water. He saw the water crest up around her. It was like watching a gorgeous living figurehead of a ship rising up from the waves. "She won't shoot me."

This time Bart looked behind Kitt at Larry. The old pirate nodded along this captain. The boy might be relying on daft emotions, but Larry knew Morgan well enough. She'd been genuine to her word. Quigley flashed a glance at the pirate frigate. This was going to come to no good.

Larry cleared his throat. "An' wut arrrrr ye tinkin' ove doin' nuw, cap'in?"

"Follow her of course." Kitt said. "Follow her anywhere...Mister Quigley make us ready to sail." The tall red head sighed and saluted to the lovestruck youth and went down to bellow out his frustration on the crew.

Kitt folded his arms and leaned on the railing. He looked down on Morgan's chapeau wistfully. "Rise above...British..what do you think she meant...ehgads! The British!" Kitt bolted up straight off the railing as if a knife had been rammed into his kidneys.

Larry, normally used to be the unpredictable one blurting out random things, was now confused, a severely uncomfortable feeling, so this was how everyone around him usually felt...

Kitt put a hand to his forehead. "Great Scott...the governor..." He turned to Larry. "We'll have to set sail for the Bahamas and pass along a message. Or an entire flotilla will be down around her head."

Larry gave Kitt a tired expression. "And that would matter to the crew, why? They need more incentive than your flirtations, captain."

Kitt blinked. "Oh..yes...if the Navy waylays the pirates we won't be able to get our share of that Plate Fleet."

Laurence nodded. "Better, miboy, better. But not best. They'll not simply stop because you sail in and yell 'Sorry to be an inconvience. It was all fake, those weren't actually pirates but fishing boats. Apologies.'"

Kitt opened his mouth to reply before shutting it as he outlined possible courses of action. He knew quite a lot about the Royal Navy and what stimuli could get it to change its ponderous, bullheaded intents. That was also how he knew quite a lot about the Plate Fleet. As a midshipmen, he'd crewed with the Governor of Nassau who'd lead a small flotilla of Navy ships to attempt to track and capture the Flota de Indias for two different years. They'd been unsuccessful, but he'd watched the Governor, a good man and ship master, stalk the Spaniards about the Caribbean.

He closed his eyes as he pictured the Caribbean in his mind. A round about route from Cartegena to the Yucatan Channel onto Havana through the Florida Straits and skirting the east Florida coast was the most likely course. For all its narrow choke points and round about duration, it did avoid most of the enemies that might lay in wait for them. However, as he knew it so must the Capitan-general of the Plate Fleet as well. If reckless and calculating, he could easily throw caution to the wind and take another more costly route east along the Spanish Main to Trinidad before reaching the Atlantic.

Kitt opened his eyes as it struck him. The Spaniard might, MIGHT, attempt that unless he was sure that it would be folly to try, or if he was sure that his enemies were anticipating him there. If a flotilla lay in wait along one route, the Spaniard would flee to save the accumulated riches and revenue for the entire Empire that year. He would be confidenant that he had escaped and fooled his foes. Only that flotilla would be on a wild goose chase.

A grin crossed his face. Was this what piracy felt like? A chance to put one over on someone, gleeful at your own cleverness? The Navy had furloughed him...placed him on half pay on a dock in Portsmith. The Governor, his patron, would benefit if this worked according to plan.

Laurence smiled widely, proudly. "Come up with something, miboy?"

Kitt turned his grin towards the old man. "I seem to remember Captain Morgan reporting that she and the pirates were heading south to Rio de la Hacha where the Plate Fleet was believed to be making for in a clever ruse to sneak past the attention of other European powers."

Laurence nodded. "Perhaps it is my fault memory but I remember that as well, miboy. Set course for British sea lanes then?"

"Yes, Mister Lawrence, make it so."

"Capital! Jolly good." Laurence thumped away towards the wheel.

Kitt was proud of himself as he thought over his cleverness then everything drew up into one confused point as the conversation played over in his head. He turned to his helsman and sailing master. "Mister Lawerence, was that the King's English you were speaking just now?"

Larry half turned to glance at Kitt over his shoulder. "Yaarr...'feared not, cap'in. Da sweet cap'in Morgan's uh-fect-shuns be givin' yer de-loo-shuns."

Kitt blinked again nonplussed by the old man. Larry chuckled to himself. Ah, now things felt better. Confusion was returned to his proper place, which wasn't on Laurence "Lefty Libretto Larry" Lawrence's person.

OOC: Some people have odd notions of what goes into making love, I see...but then again this is the place that found comfy old kimonos and vorpal bunny slipers wothy a "boom chakka chakka boom"...or maybe I've just been up too long...

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Morgan laughed as she surged though the gentle waves. She was a strong swimmer, unlike the vast majority of sailors who thought it bad luck and dangerous to know how to swim. The water felt good, but she'd need to spend some of the ships reserve for at least a sponge bath tonight or the salt crystals from her immersion would play hob with her skin.

Then the Bite was surging past her, like a thoroughbred with the bit in her teeth and the rope in her hands dragging her faster than she could swim. Eagerly she swarmed up it, hand over hand, and made the deck before they were passing the Vain Glorious. Those in the jolly boat tied theirs up just moments after she'd made the deck, and came up more slowly.

As the firgate sped past the brig, barely a ships width away from the British vessel she gave the Captain of the Vain Glorious another mocking bow then planted her fists on her hips and laughed as she took in his folorn expression. With a voice that was well trained to carry over a ship in the midst of battle Morgan called out "Bring my coat as well" she demanded.

Once past the other ship Morgan ordered the frigate turned north. She had a fleet to catch. Only then did she retire to her cabin to take a scant bath and change to dry clothes.

Aboard the brig of war Vainglorious
North of Tortuga

Kitt stood by the stern rail as he watched the Lover's Bite. He watched her sail past. Her mocking call and bow, her dramatic exit, and well...just her, all of her was vexing...Kitt couldn't claim to be a great lover...well, he could, but he'd be lying. She was uncommon woman, though he wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing just as yet.

"Captain?" A soft, quiet voice spoke behind him. He turned and there was Sam Quigley, holding Morgan's great coat. The steward had fold it and held it up in those small child's hands. Kitt stopped and looked down at Morgan's chapeau that he still holding. He rubbed a finger over the soft beaver felt.

He looked back on the horizon after the shrinking Bite. He laid her hat on top the greatcoat. "Stow that below in my cabin, would you, Sam?"

His steward nodded and scampered away. Kitt sighed and turned his gaze from the Bite. The first anchor was up, and the crew was starting on the second. He glanced aloft and saw the topsmen beginning to loose the sails. Kitt leaned back on the rail and crossed his arms over his chest.

First north to the Bahamas, send the Northern Squadron on a wild goose chase, and then....Kitt stopped and frowned. He looked down at the deck. He was going to need more men if he was going to attempt to take a treasure ship. Right, so a day in Nassau might be in order...

Five days later...

"Well Ladies and Gentlemen" Morgan addressed her crew with bawdy good humor "Another days profitable effort done." She, like the others, was daubed with paint, and sodden with sweat. They had worked hard for two days now and the Lovers Bite had temporarily become the Laughing Lady and looked as merry and harmless as the name implied. It was a deception they’d carried off before - some paint, her ship’s most capable carpenter adding on the premade and simply stowed until needed furbelows that changed her lines and appearance, just enough…

It was the only way they were going to infiltrate the highly protected harbor at Colon. Morgan needed information that could be gathered only there, for the Plate Fleet was still at anchor and that made the five days past their set sail date. And every day put them deeper into storm season. And Morgan know that Ferria dreaded storm in the normal course of things and with so large a fleet and so over loaded…[hi]He must be passing wild bulls by this point[/i] Morgan chuckled to her self, but sobered instantly as she remembered the other information the fishing vessel that had brought her the news had carried as well. Cardinal Frangell Spada the name was foul even in her thoughts,d his mistress traveling with the Fleet, returning to Spain Oh how her laughter had frightened the fisherman when she had heard that. But his fear had faded before the large sack of plunder she had tossed to him as he left. He had served her well these last years, the old fisherman, who hated the church as much as she did, and kept an eye on that particular Prince of the Church for her…and the gold she paid him.

No on the morrow the Dancing Lady, a ship of apparently Netherlands make, would sail boldly into the harbor of Colon there to take on supplies…and while doing so select members of her crew would visit various select taverns and ferret out the needed information. And her Captain, one Morgan Radnor, a respectable but very minor Welch title would visit more socially prominent establishments and gain information there that no commoner could.

But before then the crew had to get as tidy as the Laughing Lady and that meant using a lot of hot water. Luckily the tiny bay she had anchored the frigate in – less than a days sail for Colon - had a stream emptying into it and thus fresh water was abundant. Some of her crew had been tasked with refilling the water stores and heating water for baths.

“Bath time, and as I am captain I’ll take the first bath while ever one else get their dinner.” Morgan called. A fine haunch of roast with fresh bread and baked in the coals potatoes and carrots was waiting to be devoured by the crew. That was another secret to Morgan’s success at attracting and keeping the best about aboard her ship – she fed them well.

The crew grumbled at the though of baths, but not as much as was normal. They had learned that their Captain’s ‘strange to common thought’ notion of regular bathing made sense. Pestilence was never a problem aboard the Bite, nor were vermin. The frigate was home to five large cats who hunted the rats that attempted to come aboard with each wharf tie up assiduously and they were excellent hunters.

The men would take their baths on the south side of the small encampment the women on the north. There was damn little privacy aboard even the largest of ships, but aboard the Lovers Bite they made it work…and the last time there’d been even an attempted rape aboard it had resulted in a dead body tossed unceremoniously over board. Morgan didn’t allow such aboard any ship she captained. She also didn’t allow the women to flaunt their bodies, teasing the men in that fashion. “Men don’t jingle your privates in mixed company. Women I don’t require that you dress like bloody Quakers or a member of the Spanish Court, but pants and shirt before the men is only a kindness in return.”

The crew wore the common garb of all sailors of the day. Plain collarless shirts, light or heavy depending on the temperature, some times sleeveless some times not, with a long vest for the cooler days. Loose breeches that came to the knees, some times with stockings and knee boots, more often not -going barefoot on feet with calluses hard as horn.

On the flood of the morning Tide…
Port of Colon

Captain Morgan Radnor had himself rowed ashore, taking careful mental notes of the harbor positively awash with mighty – but over laden and under Marined – Spanish Galleons. Her heart burned to burn them all to the water line but no such thought appeared to cross the man’s face. With her breasts bound and in man clothes, her hair pulled back and doubled up in a tidy queue, Morgan was capable of looking very mannish – she looked to be what people thought she was, a somewhat slightly built man with excellent taste in fine clothing.

“Now mind ye how we’ve worked it before and if you have problems you know how to me.” Morgan knew she didn’t really need to remind them. Every one going ashore had crewed with her for many a year and had played their parts in similar efforts before.

Once the long boat had tied up to one of the public wharves and Captain Radnor paid the harbor fee they dispersed, as would be expected of a crew and noble Captain.

Pirate Captain Ro-zu was not a happy man.
Five cursed days after the Treasure Fleet was supposed to have set sail, and here he was, waiting on their en route. No Fleet. No sign of the Captain Morgan or Captain Reynolds, either. The Kouro and Shikyo were "hiding" behind a jungled island, as they had been for some time, while the smaller Binshou kept a sharp look-out for the Fleet, national warships and other pirates. Ro-zu was glaring into the rising sun as morning dawned, standing on the deck as his crew kept the ship ready to spring at a moment's notice from the Binshou. Already Ro-zu was beginning to think this was a fool's errand, to throw him off the scent of the Treasure Fleet while Morgan and Reynolds went for the prize themselves. Ro-zu had not become Pirate Lord of the South China Seas without becoming very, very paranoid. Still, he would not have put either Captain's down to betray him so. And patience, as he knew, was worth the time. If the Fleet was late, so be it. He had waited this long for the plunder that would set him for life. It would not kill him to wait a little longer.
However, it would make him rather annoyed. And when Ro-zu was annoyed, people died in unpleasant ways.

Captain Radnor sat at the card table, wreathed in the grey tendrils spiraling up from a long thin cheroot. He was in an outfit that a certain other captain might recognize; for the coat was all but identical to one now residing in a sea chest aboard the Vainglorious. And the hat was similar as well save for this one had a plethora of peacock's tail feathers instead of just one. And the jack boots came only to the knees...but then again thigh boot were normally worn slouched and turned down just so...

With a sneer the Welch captain threw down his cards and pocketed his winnings. His Spanish was fluent, but very carefully accented with a foreigner’s carelessness “Well, Caballeros I think it is time for me to take my leave of your noble company and find a decent repast.” He had been playing Primo Visto for hours now; it was the most popular card game in the City for those of any standing. Morgan, without appearing to do so, kept careful watch on his five table mates. While no trace showed on her face, inwardly Morgan exulted at the various scowls, frowns, and alarm that appeared on their faces. The one she'd been aiming at was as deep in his cups as she wanted him; and he wanted a chance to win back the very expensive pieces of jewelry he’d lost. Presumably they had been his mistress’s latest gifts. He wasn’t the sort to bring a wife jewels. Now to get him into a place were his lips would flap freely.

“Why Antonio, you looked peaked. Perhaps you care to dine with me, and recover yourself” he asked with false solicitousness. The very young noble man looked at him with huge eyes, and he was indeed pale as a sheet. “Si..Si I must ..I would gladly join you for dinner. Perhaps at the Villa San Guillermo?”

“Ah but sadly I am not a member.” Morgan smiled oh so sadly.

Antonio took the bait “But I am and it would be my pleasure to introduce you.” And I can send to my father for money… and enough Cabrones to take this Welshman from among the living. He thought relief. He had no way of knowing he’d be dead before dawn. His knowledge of exactly why the Fleet hadn’t sailed …and his magnificent jewelry …the property of some one else…