Please be seated and have a drink with me, if ye will...

Lads 'n lasses, or how i would like to put it: Miladies and Gents!

I have not yet frequented this most "fine" establishment although it was here that i made my introductions actually,
i just did not know it at the time and for that i blame the wine!

Now if anyone would like to grace me with their presence 'n company i would be most pleased, so feel free to introduce yourself and we will most likely drink to our mutual cause 'n content and the other fine points of life in the West indies...

Marinus looked up from his drink when the boisterous and somewhat eccentric Hollander stepped into the Albatross. Marinus had been spending most of his evenings in here since he had arrived. He hadn't much else to do since he was waiting for the shipyard to finish outfitting the sloop he had bought with some of the last of his savings.

Looking at the Dutchman, he thought that perhaps he might have a word with him, being as he looked about as out of place in this establishment as Marinus himself felt. Perhaps there was strength to be found in numbers...

Deciding on this course of action, Marinus waved his mug at the newcomer gesturing for him to have a seat.

-Henk looked at the man that had "gested" him to come over with a watchfull yet open eye thinking:
at least he looks more decent then the rest.-

Good evening sir, if such a time could still be seen as such for it is late indeed.

And might i add that it is good to meet someone in this dreary place that at least seems more sophisticated then the average drunk that i have met these past nights, with all due respect 'o course! But where are my manners allow me to introduce myself:

-What followed were some short introductions, after Henk took seat in front of the nice and somewhat
young gentleman-

It is nice to share a drink or two with someone who appreciates the company, and to be honest there is other company to be found in places such as this as any gent will know!

Still i prefer a good conversation anytime, don't you agree?

Agreed. Originally I thought I would enjoy a little peace, but now that I find myself waiting here for the work on my ship to be completed... I am.. Je ne ce qui, ce qui est le mot? Anxious? I believe it has something to do with the holidays. You know I've been away before during the season, but this time it is different. There is nothing to go back to.

So tell me, what do you find yourself doing these days? Besides of course talking to a rejeté like myself... Perhaps you have some time in your hands too?

-Henk pondered upon the words of the young Vlaming for a moment before he responded. His initial thoughts about the man beckoning him to his table in the corner were somewhat different than he expected at first! This was indeed someone with a tale to tell, and not just a flamboyantly dressed arrogant noble, as was the case with so many a "fine" gentleman wandering the streets at night seeking for earthly pleasures and indulgences!-

Well for one seigneur, i find you do not strike me as a refugee 'o sorts if i may. You dress well and seem to have a keen understanding of certain matters and apear to be passionate about your past as well as what the present time may hold in store!

I cant say, in all honestly what drove me to this place for these past nights. Mayhaps i felt like you, trying to find some tranquility and let past affairs be for the moment, an escape perhaps who's to say. Maybe i did sought some company to pass away the time!

Still it is fortunate that i have found you, unfortunate as the circumstances may be since the shipyard seems to be over her head once more! But that is their fault and theirs alone, being French they believe that they can make hasty repairs while in truth they are shorthanded to say the least and are too busy refitting His Royal Majesties Fleet as we speak!

It looks like you and i will become regulars for quite a while if you do not mind me saying so! And i would really like to hear more 'o that tres magnifique tale about that ship back in France with that rather unique name mon ami...

Jack pushes the now empty glass away from himself as he takes a careful look around the Albatross. The music coming from a piper at the far end of the room ends leaving him thinking about his clan. He misses family more than he'll ever admit to anyone.

Rising from his table just as the innkeeper walks by. He stops him and places a silver coin in the old innkeeper’s hand for the scotch. "Willem, ye know anything about those two new faces sitting back in the corner over there?" he asks with a head shake to point direction.

The two men are in active conversation. One is better dressed, perhaps even of noble birth, the other has the look of a roust-about, comfortable in his skin. Both are apparently oblivious that they have become the topic of the Jack’s interests.

“The one guy’s Dutch. Been coming in of an evening for the past several days an’ spending a dubloon on beer. Nice enough customer who dinna cause me trouble”, Willem answers. "The other is a Frenchy with a taste for fine wine. Tried to buy a glass of Rothschild Château Lafite, he did. Haven’t seen that quality of Bordeaux since da good days with James in Paris. There be nothing like that in the whole of the Carib. Ha! I gave him my best beer instead though. Hope he 'as a sense of humor. Maybe he’s here on business of o’ one sort or t’other."

"Why don’t you, ah, see if they be needing anything, Willem? We’ve been getting some mail lately if ye catch me drift." Then in a whisper Jack adds, "I’ll stay ‘tied-to’ for a bit just in case they’re here looking to meet up with HC."

With that Willem moves to pick up an empty mug at a vacated table. Then in the casual manner of a lifelong innkeeper ambling past customers and tables he moves toward the gentlemen in question.

How’s yur drinks hol’n up, mates? "Would ye fancy another... Château Lafite... Monsieur? He asks as the corners of his mouth turn ever so slightly up into a slight smile. If ye be new in these parts feel comfortable to be asking if ye have questions. I know most all that goes on this small island." He waits expectantly for their responses…

Well that is most kind indeed, i would prefer the wine never been too keen on ale or rum if i may say so!

-Henk explained in a pleasant yet well educated way, these were the moments Henk thrived on.
The unsuspected masses clearly thinkin' him being of low birth, now having to admit that the man before them was so oviously 'o fine birth and proper upbringin as well as decent!-

Information hmmm, not at this point but i am sure that whenever myself or my friend here need any you will be the first we shall contact kind sir!

-Henk brushed 'o the dust that seemed to remarkably had gathered off his reddish coat that was of a somewhat fadin' colour nowadays. With some pain in his heart he remembered the day he received it and first put it on, he looked so dashin' noble even. Not being the steadfast man that others might think he was these trivalties did bother him but he tried not to look all that worried-

I do have one question for you if i may, who is that man that nodded in our mutual direction only moments before ye deceided to grace us with your visit and services eh?!

-There were many faults and even flaws 'o character that could be placed upon Henk's head but what was still proven and uneffected were 'is keen sences, something that kept him out of harms way on many an occasion.-

Not to worry though i mean no harm or anything, just my curiousity taking the better of me...

“Jack McBain,” the innkeeper responds with a grin. Turning he says “And you, Monsieaur? I hope yur wine wasn’t a bit too frothy. The last I tasted Château Lafite was with James in France. Well ye be havin' another?”

Wilhelm opens the door to the Albatross to the sight of Willem conversing with two men, one clearly a Frenchman, and the other, judging by the accent, from the... Netherlands? With his clothes more than a bit the worse for wear after the furious action earlier that day, few would know him with the infamous fop, von Somborn.

Wilhelm walks to the far end of the bar, avoiding eye contact with the group, and in a gruff voice, orders beer. Willem, long since used to the proprietor-generals paranoia, brings Wilhelm the beer, which the aristocrat manages to force himself to drink as he listens in on the conversation.

Marinus looked visibly releaved with the opportunity that the interruption provided. He wasn't looking forward to having to answer any uncomfortable questions regarding the late unpleasantness.

Looking up at the barkeep with a wry smile.

"Ah yes, you know I have not known the simple pleasure afforded by this delicious beverage before. I would in fact like another if you could."

Marinus handed the tavernkeep a heavy gold crown bearing the profile of the Sun King.

"As for your offer of information, I would love to hear more about what so many écossais are doing here, I did not know they were such good swimmers. If you should take the time to explain this to me, I would be happy to teach you more of this history of France. We began with Louis le quatorzième, next you shall learn of Louis le Juste"

Marinus then glanced quickly towards Henk to give the tavernkeeper a moment to consider his offer.

"Perhaps one day I will tell you more of my home. Now it is to business."

Indeed business it is, but if ye will excuse me mon ami i see my contact and must attend to certain matters!

I shall hopefully meet you here in the comin' days, but for now please do excuse moi.

-Henk gathered his wits and bid farewell to the Vlaming, the barkeep Willem and nodded 'n tipped his tricorn slightly while looking in the direction of Mr. McBain and the commanding figure who seemed to have entered last, a quiet man that looked a wee bit tired if not rather preoccupied!-

We shall meet again monsieur, 'o that i am certain! -Henk smiled as he walked away into the night-

-Benoit entered the the Albatross followed by a man here-to-fore unknow to most within.

"A man of your experience would be a welcome asset among the confederacy, I assure you. Pull up at chair, let us talk for a bit."

-The newcomer pulled out a chair and joined Benoit at a table near to the door and furthest away from the other patrons.

"'Tis a fine, handsome welcome I've received here and I'd not be adverse tae swappin' tales over a pint. "

"Nae sir! You've provided the chair, the least I can dae is stand the first round! Is there a particular topic on which you'd ha' me expound? Like any gaed captain I caud talk 'o the virtues of my ship fer hours, perhaps days, eh? Or perhaps you'd like me tae address the perfidities an' infirmaties of the anglish? That'd be a subject for a week o' steady drinkin', but tomorrow bein' a Sunday I might be a bit late fer mass. So what's yer pleasure sir?"

-Willem brought twoe pints to the table and Benoit shifted his small sword out to the side get more comfortable as he took a swig.

"Happy I am, for the pint and any word you might have brought with you on the happenings of Europe."

"As barter I offer you any knowledge I have of the happenings here in the West Indies. For starters I'll tell you the weather has killed more here than the English and Pirates put together. So before you go out hunting or preparing your ship for battle, I encourage you to study the charts and learn the currents and the weather patterns."

"I was lucky enough to get that same advice when I first arrived and it's saved my ship a time or two, no doubt about it."

'La nature da mere a son oeil sur monsieur dec ces eaux.' You'll hear that phrase often in here, it means mother nature watches these waters with ill content. ... or something like that, my English has a long way to go."

-The other man at the table observed much but took it all in stride.

"Aye, wind and tide are all to a sailor. I’ve heard tell of the great storms of the Carib, these hurricanes. I’m curious, how dae they compare to the winter storms of the north sea? Captains ha’ told me that nae ship can survive one an’ tha’ a ship’s canvas can be stripped in an instant by winds of unsurpassed power. God willin’ I’ll n’ere be caught in one."

"As fer news from Europe, the biggest news when I left was that a bunch of Anglish toff’s ha’ lost their pretty shirts in bad investments. Seems the South Seas tradin’ company ran hard aground an’ is sinkin’ fast. What’s more, the company owns a big piece of the Anglish crown debt. The director’s ha’ traded company shares fer Anglish bonds. Now it looks as if the whole bloody thing may go tae pieces, an’ I’ll drink a toast tae that!"

-Benoit nodded and raised his cup.

"And a fine toast it is; salute."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Monsieur McBain, I believe we have had correspondence before, and it was you who sent me the letter that brought me to this place. What brings me here in the first place is another matter entirely."

Marinus looked around and leaned in close to share his tale

"When the war ended, and the Perfidious Albion gained ahold of the island they now call Saint "Kitts", my family lost practically everything. We had a sugar plantation on the isle. Last that I heard of it, it had been confiscated by les rosbifs. Unfortunately, my brother was chargé d’affaires."

His expression hardened for a moment, and his eyes lost focus. After a moment he regained his composure.

"Do you know what they do to smugglers? The English I mean? They post them along the coast in a gibbet where they are left for the weather and the birds. As if that wasn't enough, the war left France deeply in debt. Around came the state to pluck the golden goose. Only we could no longer afford to pay. So I chose not to. Apparently, it is not considered a donation."

Marinus managed a smile at that last thought.

"One thing led to another, and I needed to find work. I had heard of your outfit from some of your compatriots while working in the channel islands, and so in my despiration I sent you a letter, and you responded. Par conséquent, ici je suis..."

Marinus was trying his best to look and sound sincere, but he hadn't practiced his story as much as he originally planned. He hoped it would be enough.

“Les Britanniques have been pressed to extreme, Monsieur, I offer you my condolences for your lost brother. Have you any evidence of his death or assume his end came clapped in a gibbet?” McBain asks the man. It was apparent from the tenor of his voice as he told his tale that the Frenchman was in desperate straights.

“I can tell ye that we are small organization of patriots in need of a gentleman of your skills and experience, but you need know that there are some in our ranks that hold no special regard for birth and privilege. On the burning sea regard is earned not given. I speak this so ye be not unduly distressed nor discouraged if the manners of some be more abrupt than one of your station would expect.”

[transitioning from "The Early Post"]

After failing to attract the attention of the be-pistoled Captain of the Luron de Mer--a fight had broken out nearby on the wharf, and by the time she had dodged the reeling and cursing combatants the Captain was nowhere to be seen, and she knew better than to try and board a ship without an invitation--Deoiridh made her way back to the Albatross.

When she had left the inn had been all but deserted, now it was a much livelier place. Men leaned casually against the bar, nodding knowledgeably into mugs of ale clenched tightly in their hands. Others played vociferous games of cards at a nearby table. Two women--probably from the brothel across the way; maybe the owner--Willem was it?--was cannier than he looked; a profit-sharing enterprise with a nearby house of ill repute would not be out of the question--were laughing a little too loudly in the company of a couple of exhausted looking sailors.

She stood uncertainly in the doorway for a moment, before spotting a vacant table, and she tried to move there as inconspicuously as possible. She was more conscious than ever of her appearance, and from the point of view of pure vanity she knew that she appeared to best advantage from a distance and when she wasn't moving. Up close, the best french cosmetics effectively hid most of the scar on the right side of her face, the rest artfully concealed by the fall of her hair. It was impossible, however, to mask the fact that her right eye was glass. Beautifully crafted, certainly, and good enough to convince at a distance, but up close it didn't hold the light with the silky sheen of the real object. And while she was improving with practice and experience--and, oddly enough, keeping her footing with on a rolling and pitching deck had helped a lot--she still could not entirely disguise the fact that she walked with a limp.

Once seated at the table, she managed to catch the eye of the bartender, who made his way over to her.

"Evening, Ma'am, what can I be providing for you? Cook's rustled up a fine black pudding with a passel of Jenny Bread."

"That would be fine, I think. And a mug of your lightest ale, please."

"I be needing to attend to the gentlemen at the bar, with your leave ma'am, so I'll send ye the boy over with the wittals."

"You are too kind, sir."

While waiting for the food to arrive, she looked around and noticed that a table near the door was occupied by the Captain of the Luron de Mer and two other men she didn't recognize. She thought of approaching him, but all three seemed to be in deep converse.

-- Faolán wanders down the street, idly fingering a worn-out patch in his coat. Looking about he notices a sign, The Albatross. He rustles about in a few pockets. Pulling out some coins and looking over them.

Enough fore ale, at least. What I wouldn't giv fore some uisce beatha, though.

-- Sliding the coins back into his pocket, Faolán walked into The Albatross and picked his way about to the bar. Taking a seat, he signaled to the barkeep.

"Ahn ale, please. Go raibh maith agat."

Marinus looks lost in thought for a moment, then begins to speak again.

"Evidence? No, I don't suppose I have any direct proof of what might have happened... In... in any case, if your organization is in need, I would be happy to extend my services for whatever duration you should deem approriate. As for your fair warning about the character of your associates... In my line of work, I've long since lost my sense of propriety."

Marinus thinks of something and laughs softly to himself.

Besides, I haven't really belonged to the deuxieme état for very long!"

After realizing the implications of what he said, he fell silent for a moment, hoping perhaps the man across from him didn't hear it all over the din.

"Then maybe he be alive after all, Monsieur, never loose hope", Jack encouraged. "Ah, the world is a changing' all around us, your flexibiltiy is an asset".

Looking toward the bar, McBain sees Herr von Sanborn sitting quietly. "Speaking o' assets, mon ami, I see our Inspector-General close by. I have some business to attend to with him. Would you excuse me, Monsieur? .

I will keep in close contact with ye in the days ahead. If you need anything, me ship is the Hornet and tied starboard-to at the wharf. There may well be some sharp action soon. I advise you be ready."

-Briefly walks in and oversees the tavern's main room swiftly!-

Mr. McBain i know ye must be pressed for time but i have heard a thing or two about a group 'o likeminded individuals that seek the aid of others as it were.

I know we have not been introduced properly but i am as unfortunate as it may seem rather shorthanded myself at the moment! I have a ship at my as well as your disposal that is currently undergoing repairs 'n refitting and it does not look good!

Well i meant to say that the ship looks good but not the fact that it might take some time before she will be able to set sail. A problem both me and my Flemish friend seem to share, which is why i had to leave rather abrubtly the other night as ye may have noticed...

-He looks around and notices a young lady he had not seen before. She seems to keep her head somewhat tilted downward at all times but is welldressed and a bit out 'o place here. There is also a man present that sits comfortably close to the barkeep drinking some beverage 'o sorts. He is dressed in what appears to be the remains of a naval uniform combined with more regular clothing. Also present a man dressed like a merchant captain toastin' most likely to some bussiness endevour gone sour, for his competition no doubt-

McBain looks up to the man standing now before him and was earlier at the same table. With a smile he begins, "Dutchman, have a seat". Jack extends the chair at his right in invitation while at the same time providing a quick reassuring look toward the Frenchman sitting across the table.

In his soft brogue he continues, "Ye have me at disadvantage, sir. Ye know me name, and I assume the name of this fine Laird you were drinking with earlier, but I know neither yur name nor the nature of yur business on the burning sea."

"I may know of a group like you be askin’", he adds. "What more information can ye give me, its name, its cause? When close ta shore a mariner needs navigate with an eye fer shoals, if ye catch me drift."

A mulatto woman of small stature enters The Albatross and heads straight for the bar.

"Willem, I have the boys around back with bread, cheese, vin ordinaire, sugar and rum per your order, and I could une petite tasse de cafe, s'il vous plait?"

Her English was even more creole in accent than her French; perhaps a bit of brogue to her English, as is common on Haiti. Her bright silks also betrayed her heritage.

Willem looked up a little frazzled. "Mon dieu, LaRouge! Do you have to give me a delivery during the dinner hours?"

"Blame the Bloody Arms, and mercis a Dieu you have a delivery at all. Coffee, s'il vous plait, when you can."

She rested her face in her hands for only a moment.

"Damn! I still smell of their blood. I go wash yes? Do you have a room free, even better?"

Willem held up three fingers. LaRouge nodded and headed up the stairs.

Shaking his head, he set the boy to grind fresh beans from the sack of coffee set aside for LaRouge beneath the counter, and set a pipe of water to boil.

I fully understand Mr. McBain, and i would not have it otherwise for these are dangerous times indeed!

It is a long tale indeed and i will gladly tell you about it someday but for now rest assured that i have in my possesion a letter written by a friend and "believer" i might add!

-Henk blinked slightly with his right eye at the man standin' in front of him, when all of a sudden a young "mureno" woman rushed past him and up the stairs carryin' a faint odour 'o blood sweat and tears, or was it the salty sea air?!-

“Aye, Dutchman, dangerous times, perhaps we will have the leisure to sit an’ trade tales another time, but now I must bid ye and Monsieur Marinus adeau. I have pressing business with others at the Albatross this evening and must be” ………..

Suddenly the door of the Albatross slams open with a loud bang, hitting the serving wench’s elbow causing the full platter of empty mugs and dishes she’s carrying to come crashing to the floor! The cause of the uproar just beginning is a seaman coming barreling through all the while shouting at the top of his lungs…JACK… CAP’N MCBAIN!!…quick, the Hornet's afire…THE HORNET'S AFIRE!!!”

Jack’s chair careens backwards as he jumps up without a word and makes for the door. Bedlam escalates as various seamen follow suit. Fire on board any ship, whether at sea or tied to the wharf, is a mariner’s worst nightmare and an immediate call to action. In the time it takes for the telling of it, the place is vacated of well nigh half its patrons and those behind are left with a somber sense of concern.

[Thread continues at the bottom of "Jack looked over the Hornet"]