Jack looked over the Hornet

Jack looked over the Hornet. She was 80 foot long at the waterline, had a 30 ton hold and was fast. She lay quietly starboard side to, her bow hawse line and stern line secured to pilings with midship spring lines set. Ship’s Mate Will MacBean shouted orders as the crew set the gangway and began preparations to offload and warehouse the cargo gathered from Clan Chattans resources in Scotland. The manifest was drawn up for delivery to a group of loyalists working out of Martinique. Scotland knew them as The Highland Confederacy.

He didn’t know much about the group save its name and its cause. His father’s plan was a simple one; get Jack to where gold and goods were easy gotten and it would greatly aid James’ cause. That meant making way for the Greater Antilles. There were quiet preparations going on all across Scotland and Jack sensed an attempt to retake the crown coming.

His father had sent a letter of reference ahead and he hoped it arrived. Jack didn’t want to catch these people by surprise. He would swab decks for them if it aided James’ restoration.

“Thank 'e William, belay the offload ‘til Ah get back. Set the shore-watch and put the crew off in groups of four only. Then go find ye a quine, There nae hairm in tryin,” he smiled.

“Aye, Jack!” Will grinned back, then quietly added, “Go we care, bra. For James!

His cousin served as Jack’s mate going over three years now and he trusted him with his life. As Will turned to carry out his orders Jack walked slowly down the gangway and looked over the small town gloaming in the late afternoon sun.

“Hmmm, wonder just where be this Albatross?” he asked himself as he stepped onto the street and began making his way past cargo nets and fisherman. . . .

-----

((Jack has a lot of self confidence in his ability as ship’s master, but is willing to do whatever is needed.
If he doesn’t serendipitously ‘bump’ into someone from the Confederacy on the way he will ask around, find the Albatross and soon walk into the greatest adventure of his 29 year old life.))

Benoit and Zacharie were walking back towards the docks and the free trader they called home most of the year; the Luron de mer. The wind had picked up and it was slightly overcast, they had stopped at the foot of the pier looking out over the water and sky trying to judge if it would bring a storm and delay their departure the following morning.

“Benoit.” The name came out over the crowd and Rene, the ships doctor, pushed his way through a group of sailors haggling with a shady looking old lady selling ‘lucky’ baubles. He held up a bag as he approached, “I ‘ave some good stuff in here, quite rare in zese parts; I bought some for my supplies too.” He noticed Zach and gave the first mate a nod before continuing, “But, where should I send all zhis, I doubt a pirate would ‘ave an address?” He said quizzically as if thinking out loud.

Benoit smiled and put a warm hand on his friends shoulder as he chuckled, “No, no you are quite right Rene, just put them in a barrel onboard and label it well so there is no mistaking them; I’m sure we’ll run across her and her crew eventually, we’ll give the items in person.” Turning around to look back out at the sea he said, “I think she’ll pass like a lover no? We should be leaving early tomorrow morning doctor, get all of your things in order tonight, if you know what I mean.” He gave his old friend a wink, “And your English has been slipping, you can’t let the crew out learn the doctor now can you? You’re supposed to be the learned one; I think you’re just being stubborn?” He let the question hang and the good doctor wondering how much of it was in jest and how much was serious.

He turned towards Zacharie but, his first mate was not listening, the new ship in port had caught his attention. “She’s a pretty ship, I think I’ll go introduce myself and see what she’s all about. I’ll see you back on le Chienne commandant.” With that Zacharie made off towards a man who was coming down the dock.



((Why is this song so catchy?))
< https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk_lZ37bUOM >

“Hello sir, I am Zacharie Sommer, first mate of the Sea Sprite.” He pointed to a four triangle sailed Xebec docked on the outside of the southern most piers. He wore plain seaman’s garb and carried him self confidently, but was very polite and respectful. His hair was a sandy brown and cropped short and although he was slightly thin, his muscles were defined, showing he was no stranger to hard work. “That’s an impressive Schooner there does she by chance belong to you?” This time he pointed behind the man towards the Hornet.

Jack shielded his eyes as he smiled at the man before him. “Thank ‘ee...Mr. Sommer is it? Ah'm Jack McBain, Master of Hornet. Officially, heh, me Da holds the title, but I’ve been her master since she slipped the ways".

Turning to the south he saw the Zebec’s graceful lines as she lay tied to the pier. “Looks a Sea Sprite all right, havna laid me eyes on a beauty like that Ah wis inta the Mediterranean last year."

He’d always loved the delicate and graceful lines of a Xebec. Fully as fast as his own, it could carry more than twice the firepower and three times the cargo as his schooner. But he wouldn’t trade. The Zebec’s lightly built hull and low freeboard made it unlikely to survive North Sea weather at home.

“Afraid she’d be a bit tender for the waters I usually sail," he said. You're welcome to go aboard Hornet and look 'er over if you have the time. Mate's name is Will McBean, tell him Ah asked you to have a look about. Oh, might ye know where a good meal and decent beer can be had?"

“I would like to take a look, thank you for the offer.” Zacharie rubbed his hand through his hair absently; he decided to spare the man tales of the Sea Sprites origins and noting his Scottish accent, figured he’d be happy with the company up at the Albatross.

“And… oh yeah, good drink, food, and more you’ll find up at the albatross, just follow that road there up until you see a well; it’ll be just off to the left from there. The man behind the counter is named Willem, I’m sure he’d be happy to hear tales from um…” He trailed off realizing he might offend if he continued his train of thought. “Anyway, it’s a good place with a fairly mixed crowd, I suggest the potatoes. See you around.”

And he headed off towards the Hornet with a soft whistle.

“Now that was a bit o' luck”, thought Jack to himself as he made his way into town. “Finding me way and no one the wiser.”

His mind raced as he kept an eye out for the well Sommer described. Before leaving Scotland his Da told him to talk to the proprietor of a roadhouse called the Albatross on Martinique. The owner would be his initial contact. But who he needed to do business with was one of the HC Officers and Jack had no idea how long it would take to make that connection. His Da expected the HC would be keeping a pretty low profile so in the end they would probably be contacting him. He’d have to be very careful until that happened.

The one thing he was counting on to make it easier was his red hair, deep Scottish burr, and six foot two frame. The fact that he weighed in a bit over 16 stones didn’t hurt either. He had learned to accept that he was an unusually conspicuous Scotsman when he walked into a room.

“Aye, there be the well and there be the Albatross right where Sommer said it would”, he thought, “Time to do a bit o' business”.

McBain eased his sword to check that it was hanging loose and available in its scabbard. He subconsciously felt for the dagger hidden beneath his shirt and then the one strapped to his left forearm.

“Guess Ah’m ready” he thought as he opened the door and entered the room.

What he saw was more or less what he expected; a large room with several tables, a few patrons in various states of sobriety and a long bar in front of the far wall. He glanced quickly around as he made his way to the bar and notice a knot of four men sitting together at a table as he passed. They seemed in intense conversation but he noticed one of them, an older distinguishly attired gentleman, look up as he walked by.

"Helloo stranger, can Ah fetch ye a stout?" asked the rotund man behind the bar polishing the glass in his hand with a towell.

"Indeed ye can barkeep. A pint if 'e will". McBain stifled a smile when he heard the thick burr in the bartenders voice. I've come ta the right place, he thought.

"Always a pleasure to serve a fellow Scotsman. The names McDough, Willem, McDough. Ah own the Albatross and at your service Ah am," he said as he pushed the pint toward McBain. "Ye been plying the waters around Martinique long?"

"Just got here, he replied. Ma names Jack McBain. "Ah've some cargo to deliverrr and Ahm trying to find me customer. Don't have a specific name, but me Da tol me ta ask the proprietor of the Albatross if there be some folk who would know the initials HC. My Da was talkin' in riddles ta me, but he said that's all Ah needed to know, except Ah was ta ask me question only ta the proprietor of the Albatross. Glad Ah am to make yer acquantance, Mr. Willem McDough. Got any idea who I should be lookin' fer?"

McBain didn't want to say too much and he may have already done that, but...nothing ventured, nothing gained as his Da was want ta say.

McDough's eyes narrowed as he listened to Jack's tale, but by its end his face softened to a slight smile and he answered "Mae be, just mae be. You enjoy yur stout an' Ahl see what Ah can see."

And with that he picked up the coin Jack laid on the bar for the stout and started moving from table to table seeing to the needs of his other guests...

-----

((A note of explanation about the four men around the table. I pick that up from Erasmus de Brouwer in his Parely at the Albatross thread. I was hoping to pick up on the situation as it existed there. That may have been out of place, sorry if it was.))

((That's sounds like a good idea. May I reccomend, if you haven't already done so, copy this last post, or link it, to the afore mentioned thread so that we may all continue on there.))

Aidan looked up from his maps and wine at the sound of a throat clearing. Willem stood mainly looking at the floor with only the occasional furative glance up. "Ah Willem my good man! Have you come to top my glass?"

"Er, no yer Excellency" Willem stuttered "Er... that is my Excellency... For I do endear you that title too... That is to say..."

Smiling Aidan tried to calm the man down "At ease my friend. You must learn that the formalities of office only hold weight with me when I must excercize them to accomplish my ends. What can I do for you?"

Calming a bit Willem continued "Well Excellency, it be a matter of the young lad o'er there. He claims ta have some cargo for the Confederacy and be seeking a contact. Since Wilhelm be at it with that other newcomer, I thought t'would be best ta run the matter by you... if it be no bother that is."

Aidan looked over at the rather large fellow as he replied, "No bother at all. If I am to be apart of this fine company I should help shoulder the load, so to speak."

Gathering up his maps, Aidan moves to the counter and places them behind the bar before addressing the young man. "Good sir, I am told that you seek a representative of the Highland Confederacy. I am Bishop Aidan McDermott, a friend and affiliate of the Confederacy. Perhaps I may be of assistance?"


OOC: To make it more natural, how about if I just bring him over and introduce him. We'll continue on the other thread from that point. BTW Jack, whats the story behind your cat emblem?

OxBaker wrote:

BTW Jack, whats the story behind your cat emblem?

((I wanted to ask the same; what is the meaning of the words?))

Jack McBain wrote:

Perhaps some of our Scottish members would know more. I’ll do some research on the subject.

OOC Yeah, it's the Clan Chattan motto and does mean literally what John has said. I think it's translation is very close to several other Scottish Clan mottos, including the Royal Scottish Motto of "Nemo Me Impune Lacessit" - None shall strike me with impunity - in Scots tongue "Wha daur meddle wi me?" - "Who dares meddle with me?" - or kinda like "touch me if you dare".

Incidentally, loving the intro Jack!

"I care not what is done with the larder but the spirits must be moved to my quarters in haste!" Aidan chuckles. "Do not look so shocked! Despite my calling I at least attempt to prevent neither my Good Book nor my humor from getting too dusty. In truth I am entirely unsure where such goods should be stored as I have only found myself in the company of the Confederacy for but a short while. I think it best if I direct your inquiry to one with a touch longer standing in our little fellowship but before doing so, I will need to look over your shipping papers to ensure they are in order."

Aidan recieves the shipping paperwork and looks the documents over.

"It all appears to be valid. Forgive me for checking but you can never be too careful in these dangerous times. And as such, please do not take offence for I will also take the precaution of not providing you with names when I introduce you. As I said, dangerous times. This way my dear fellow."

Aidan turns and walks over to Wilhelm.

OOC: Lets continue this on the other thread.

At a full run, Jack looks toward the wharf. A flaring yellow orange glow in the sky confirms the worst. Still he runs hoping against hope there is yet time to save his ship. No, not his ship, his father’s ship, and the trust of his clan along with the hopes of the Chattan Confederation to help restore James, all at risk of destruction by a seaman’s worst fear, fire.

An impromptu fire response team is already organized and hard at work by the time Jack’s boots hit the wood of the wharf. A fire line is passing sloping buckets full of seawater to the Hornet while empty ones go back for refill. It is his mate, Will MacBain, leading the effort.

The heat of burning tar and wood blisters skin, acrid smoke burn lungs, it is soon clear their efforts are not up to the task as fire laps up the tarred mizzen mast. She’s going to be a total lost and if something isn’t done right now, she’ll set fire to not only the vessels tied for and aft her but the wharf itself.

Pointing to a small boat Jack yells in his mate’s ear. “Will, see that longboat tied over there? Grab half dozen men and warp the Hornet out into the harbor before she torches everything. She’s got a line coiled just below her bowsprit. Fire’s still abaft the main mast far enough you should be able to get to it. Use it for the warp.”

As Will and his men carry out their new task, McBain orders the fire crew to wet the dock and forget his vessel. “She’s lost,” he hollers. “Make sure the dock and those two boats are saved.” Men jump to their tasks; several jacks leap onto the decks of the vessels tied fore and aft Hornet. The forward vessel moves first making way for the warp of the Hornet, now a blazing inferno. The crew on the aft vessel leaves her tied to the dock and starts wetting her bow to keep fire away.

For well over two hours the crews work themselves to exhaustion. As a grey dawn breaks Hornet lay a hundred yard out into the harbor, a smoking wreck burned nearly to the waterline. Both endangered vessels and the wharf itself have some minor damage, but have survived.

Jack stands by Hornet’s old gangway, alone, no idea what next to do…

-Watching as the ship is pulled to safer distance Henk overlooks the smoldering ruins 'o what was once a fine vessel without a doubt! Not sure what to do or say he deceides to try to find Jack, wandering through countless rows of men gathered, exhausted, defeated even looking for the Scotsman untill he spots 'im not far from were he was standing!-


Jack!

What happened here tonight? I am truly sorry for this is a huge blow to any captain! I understand that at present your thoughts are far from this place perhaps but i do wish to offer what assistance i can, if ye'll let me!
I do hope that you will not take offence for we have not been accainted for too long but this is no time for formalities...

Jack’s mind slowly surfaces from the numb depth of nothingness gripping him. He has no idea how long he has been blankly looking out at what is left of his ship, thinking no thoughts, lost in inky despair.

He looks around him. The Dutchman from the Albatross is standing close by, genuine concern etched on his face, his eyes fixed on him. His dear friend Benoit stands a few feet away, just sheathing his sword, why? Those who fought to save his ship gathered in small groups appear rallied to some cause of which Jack was unaware.

“Benoit, mon ami…Dutchman, how did this curse happen,” he asks. Then suddenly turning toward the crowd he shouts “Will, Where be ye Will?” His Mate emerges from one of the knot of men standing close by. “Jack! He returns, “Ye scared the hell out o’ us, cousin. No one could reach you. Your mind was gone.”

“Well, I’m back now, Will. What happened? Know ye anything of how it started?”

“Aye Jack…I woke to Hammie’s shaking and the smell o’ smoke. When I came up on deck fires were burning in several places at once. It look started, Jack. Somebody torched Hornet!”

Jack’s mind races, he will find how this happened and he will avenge the lost of his ship.

“Benoit, may I impose on your good graces for assistance, mon ami? I will need a base from which to operate. Know ye of any available lodging for me and me crew?” Turning to the Dutchman by his side he says, “Me thanks for yer being here, mate. It appears our wakes be intertwined and that for the good. Will ye keep a weather eye out for any news about this night’s skullduggery and tell me what ye hear?”

Turning to the men and women around him he calls out “This nights work be over. Ye did all that’s humanly possible to save me ship, and for that I will forever be in yer debt. Go back to your ships and to your homes, but have a care, there be black treachery afoot.

"Commandant." the voice was faint and next to his ear but, Benoit knew it to be that of his master of arms, Joachim D'Aubigne. He turned and saw the serious look on his friends face and pressed his ear closer.

"Zacharie tient quelqu'un dans la coque de la chienne et indique que vous devriez venir entendez ce qu'il doit dire."(1)

"Merci Joachim." Benoit glanced towards Jack.
"Le besoin du poing I de parler avec Jack et alors je ferai ma manière là."(2)

Benoit started to walk towards the young captain McBain, unconciously sticking his hand into his breast pocket and touching the letter within. He had received it just that morning, a letter from his contact in the regents office, it seems la Regent was extreamly pleased with his work in New Orleans where he had recovered several land deeds from the former governer and passed them to the crown for safe keeping. It spoke of another letter soon to follow which would include a letter of Marque and a decree ordering the commison of a new frigate and the hiring of more sailors to be placed under the command of Baron d'Bontecou; chevalier.

He cringed at the title, most of the bafoons back in France would think such a think a momentous occasion, Benoit knew the truth of it; knew that he was now owned by the crown, a lapdog to the regent.

He cleared his thoughts, the comission of a new ship meant he can loan his old one to Jack, the man was too proud, like all Scots are and would never except is as a gift; even if he knew the demise of the Hornet might lie, in part, on Benoit's shoulders.

But there was no proof that the man with the lantern he and his crew had chased off earlier were resposible for this. He was standing next to Jack now, but still unsure how to begin. In his mind he played through the events from earlier that day; he was going to gather his crew and make the annoucemnet of the new comission when there was some commotion on the warf near the Luron de Mer. One of the men was wildly swing a latern about which enraged his own men standing watch at the top of the gang plank. When they moved to secure the man he fled and just as his watchmen were about to give chase Benoit called them back, he remembered scolding them; pointing out that the 2 men that were in the scuffle ran off together, evidence of some sort of colusion which should have alarmed them not to leave their posts empty... especialy when fire was involved.

... and the woman, the one who looked as if she were going to come aboard... the woman who, unlike everyone else who stopped to gawk at the commotion, simply walked away without a word.

He looked at Jack with suprise and exclaimed, "The face!" Jacked leaned back a bit not sure how to react but Benoit grabbed him by both shoulders. "The woman at the third table." For the first time he noticed the man next to Jack; he seem bewildered, or was it bemusement?

"Listen Jack, I have some good news for you, meet me tonight at the Albatross." He let go of his friends shoulder, yes indeed this man was his friend and that realization made his smile that much bigger. "Your drinks are on me." And he ran off once again holding his hat in hand with his coat flying out behind him.


(1) Zacharie is holding someone in the hull of the Bitch and says you should come hear what he has to say.
(2) Fist I need to speak with Jack and then I'll make my way there.

((OOC: Just a quick note to say that you all are doing an awesome job here; particularly Jack and Benoit. I'm having a blast reading your writing. Benoit, that pickup from my mention of the fight, and the innuendo. . .very nice, I'm liking where this is going!))

I shall keep a weather eye and see if i can learn anything of what transpired here this unfaithfull evening,
you have my word Jack!

And for what it is worth, i am so relieved that it wasn't you that went down tonight...

-Henk watches the two men walk off talking, arguing even! He realises the task at hand and walks 'o into the night in search of answers!-

With the commotion breaking out all around him, Marinus decided it was best to keep his head down. After all, he didn't really know these people all that well, and he certainly didn't need to attract the attention of the authorities, which might not be good for either him, or the patrons of the Albatross. He heard tell of a fire and unconsciously padded his coat which was drawn up over a brace of pistols concealed beneath. He didn't know what to expect, but he was prepared for almost anything.

Natrually blending with the crowd, he made for the door without drawing undue attention to himself. When people tried carefully to recall the events of this evening, he didn't want to feature prominently in anyone's memory.

Besides, he was certain he had seen a few other frenchmen in or near the tavern that evening, and until he knew more about who these men were, he would have to lie low.

Making his way down the street he heard the news being passed around. There was a fire at the dock, and from what he was hearing, it sounded as if it was a ship belonging to the man he had just met.

Just then, curiosity got the better of him, always sort of a problem for Marinus. He decided to head towards the docks to see what he could learn.

(Several hours earlier)

Bognor and L'Dave stood among the crowd at the dock, watching the man they knew to be Jack McBain. "Well, are you going to speak with him?", asked L'dave.

"No, no, not just yet. He looks busy," replied Bognor, and they both watched as the big man set off into the town with a purposeful stride.

"You go back to the inn and see to Emilie. I will go aboard and finish my letter to Sorcha. Maybe I can catch McBain when he returns," said Bognor. L'Dave, with a nod to his oldest and best friend, headed off to care for his exquisitely beautiful, but somewhat expensive, wife.

In his cabin, Bognor pulled out the long letter he had penned to his fiery friend. He thought about her a moment, wondering if he was mistaken in not letting the girl catch him...

He took up his pen and began to write:

Martinique, Greater Antilles, Fourth of January, 1720

"My dear, the packet leaves on the next tide, so I will finish this now. I have seen McBain here, and I hope to make contact with him soon -- this very evening, if possible. I think he may remember me from the Syracusan oil bid that he lost to me -- I only hope he remembers the four bids he won against me that year, and does not hold the oil bid against me. The Dear knows, it was a trivial loss in an operation of his scale, though it made my season.

I find myself beset with nerves at the meeting. I have opened my heart to you (and no other) and you know how I fear and loathe rejection by the "pure" Scots. I can do nothing about my family and my ancestry, yet the high Scottish families treat me with disdain, if not contempt. It is especially injurious since my own mother came from the highlands. I can only hope that since we are of an age and he has travelled widely, that McBain will respect me for my talents and accomplishments and leave my ancestry aside. But I see I repeat myself -- you already know these things. Let me move on to happier subjects!

Things look well in New World. There are plantations and factories to be had, and, while commerce seems rather heavy here, with ships plying to and fro, there seems no end to the resources of this abundant land.

It is not without risks, however. Every sort of pirate and criminal seems to have migrated here as well. Some of them most well equipped. But so far I have managed to take or destroy the lesser and run from the greater!

Should you and your sister choose to come over, I am confident you will do well.

I must close now, my dear. My best to your sister. I remember with great fondness those long evenings in Marseilles two summers ago!

I remain your dearest servant,

Bognor Regis, Esq.


Bognor added the same to his copy, sealed and addressed a paper cover, then likewise with an oiled outer cover. He stepped onto the deck of the Cruachan as the sun was nearing the horizon and crossed to the pier. He planned a short stop at the port office to leave the letter, along with several others and then hoped to catch McBain returning to his ship. He hoped against hope that he would have the nerve to speak with the man. Fortunatelly he sent L'Dave away for he could not stand to let his friend see his weakness. While there was no sense of lord and retainer between them at all (for indeed, McGraw's family had been retainers on the Regis estate for generations) Bognor still felt uncomfortable exposing his weakness to his friend.

Unfortunately, the tropical night was falling fast. Bognor hurried towards the ill lit piers. As he rounded the last corner, he hear the sound of footsteps. He barely caught a glimpse of a man running, and the dim flash of a dark lantern when the man turned the corner. Loosening his sword and dirk, and easing the pistol in his waistband, Bognor proceeded with some caution.


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