DEAD MAN'S TAVERN II

[Welsh Wench]

Wench headed for the galley and sniffed the air. Oh Lord, something is burning! She rushed in before the smoke smell hit the quarterdeck.
She banged the door open and through the smoke, she saw Lil's outline. Wench waved the smoke away from her face.
"Lilaney, what in blazes is going on here?"
Lil stood there with a dish that was rapidly losing its pouf.
Wench frowned, "I give up, Lil. What was it in its former life?"
She looked down at it. "It was supposed to be a souffle but I guess it kind of lost its puffiness."
Wench looked around. "Where did you throw the eggshells?"
"We were out of eggs so I tried to make it do with flour and water. They are both white."
Wench poked the mess and it let out a mighty sigh and deflated even more.
"And I thought I was a bad cook!"

Lilaney sighed. "I guess cooking is not my strong suit."
Wench gave her a hug and said gratefully, "No, but sewing is. I heard from Duckie about the marvelous job you did saving Martin's life."
Lilaney hesitated and then plunged in. "Wench, you have known Dr. Gander a long time. What do you know about him?"
Wench opened up a few cupboards. "Hmm? Oh...not too much. Why?"
"He has sad eyes."
Wench sighed. "You noticed it too. Duckie was never forthcoming about details in his life. I know that Duckie, Jack and Malcolm Daggett all were in Oxford at the same time. I once asked Jack if something happened to Duckie. A long lost love that dumped him.....an illness...was he orphaned....."
"What did you find out?"
"Nothing. Jack always found a way to shut me up. Oh, did I say that out loud?"
Lilaney said overly-casual, "I was just curious."
Wench raised her eyebrow and said, "Uh huh. I'll see what I can find out from Jack. Without the interruptions."
"So what are you doing in the kitchen galley?"
"Oh...I don't know. I have a craving for chocolate and I thought I would snoop around and see what I could find. I came across a recipe."
She held it up. "It was in a book I found in Jack's bookcase. I didn't know he was into cooking.."
Wench opened up a few covered containers. "I see flour....salt...sugar....chocolate..eggs..."
"Where did you find eggs?"
"In that cupboard over there. Now where is the butter?"
Lilaney looked over in another cupboard. "What is this?"
Wench took it from her and looked at the label. "Alot of this is worn off. I see a C-A-and an S in here..Oh!
I bet this is cashew butter. Perfect!"
"What are you making?"
"Some sort of brownies. Want to help?"
Lilaney shook her head. "I'd better get back to check on Martin."
Wench muttered, "You mean check out Dr. Duckie."
Lilaney turned. "What did you say?"
"Did I say anything?"
"You said...something."
Wench laughed. "Go check on the boys. And maybe take a peek to make sure Malcolm is doing alright."
"Feeling sentimental, Wench?"
"No...but it is a good way to keep Jack a bit jealous!"
They both laughed as Lil headed out.

Wench continued to assemble her ingredients and measuring equipment. She sniffed at the cashew butter and then dipped her finger in it. "Mmmm! Not bad."
She sifted the flour, added the cocoa along with the rest of the ingredients and then beat it all with a wooden spoon. She dipped her finger in the batter and then licked it off.
'This has to be the best batter I have ever eaten!'
She took a spoonful and ate it. "Mmm!"
Carefully she poured it into one of Martin's pans and put it in his iron cooking stove. She looked at the bowl.
'It would be a shame to let that batter go to waste now, wouldn't it?'
Wench took a mixing spoon and polished off the batter.

"Honour, WHAT are you doing?"
She sat there, her eyes were kind of glazed. "OH..hiya, Captain Jack! I was trying my hand at baking. And you will be so proud of me."
She headed towards the stove and was about to open it when Jack caught her arm. "Are you out of your mind? You need some sort of pot holder when you take anything out of the oven."
"Oh. Yeah.  Pot. Holders."
"Are you alright, Honour?"
She giggled, "As righty-right as rain, mon capitan!"
He looked at her askance. "Uh huh."
She carefully opened the oven door and shut it fast. "It looks weird. All bright and...everything!"
Jack felt her forehead. "Are you alright?"
She batted his hand away. "Of course I am alright! I've never felt better and don't think I ever WILL feel this good. Ever, ever, ever and ever....."
Jack took the potholders and pulled the pan out, "I must say, Honour, that it does look good."
"Do you want to do the honours?"
She handed him the knife. He gently took it. "Presentation is everything, love. That is why it is important to hand over a blade with the handle and not the knife."
"Oh."
Jack cut a square. "It looks really good. Honour, I never knew you could bake."
He handed a piece to her. "Mmmm....this is wonderful! Like every taste bud is doing a happy dance!"
He popped one in his mouth. "It's the best brownie I ever ate. Want another?"

Jack helped himself to another piece. "Wonder what makes them so good?"
Honour ate a third piece. "It must be the cashew butter."
"Cashew butter? We don't have any cashew butter."
"Sure we do."
She handed him the container. "See? Some of the letters are worn off. But this is what I used."
Jack looked at the package and then to Honour unbelievingly.
"Honour, where did you get this?"
"Behind--WAY behind, I might add--the condi---con--condo---stuff you put on meat that Lucky had in that cupboard"
Jack groaned.
"dangnubbit...this is CANNABIS BUTTER!"
"Ewww, Jack! Where would I get cannibals? We haven't been anywhere near Africa."
"Cannabis."
"Oh. Those big lilies...."
"Hashish, Honour."
"Hashish?"
"The stuff people smoked in Jamaica and got a little strange on it."
"Oh"
"Yes. Oh."
"Ummmm.....whoopsie?"

[Martin Montgomery]

 Martin awoke,uncomfortable in the standard sized cot of the "Lobo's" surgery,weak yet feeling much better. The large man knew that he owed his continued existence to the skills of Lilaney and Duckie. A wan smile crossed his lips as he realized that he thought of the gentel Doctor, now only as "Duckie". Cool air circulated through the venting,letting the big cook know that the ship was still underway,and the very fact that the wick of the oil lamp in the holder by the cabin door was lit and set to it's lowest setting told him that darkness had settled. Turning his head only,so as not to bother his wound,he surveyed the otherwise empty room. His  bloodstains had been cleaned up and every little sharp tool had been cleaned,sterilized and carefully replaced in it's proper place,lined up in precise ranks each ready at a moments notice to perform it's intended job. "A place for everything and everything in it's place! That would be due to Lil and Duckie both!" He mused aloud  'I wonder if they have realized the attraction is mutual and would more than likely be welcomed!? A low chuckle passed his lips as he thought of the brave woman,frightend not by life threatening danger but by her own feelings. "That highborn idiot is just as bad! Hah !! Worried about the way things look and not by the feelings stirring in his own heart!'  He struggled to not reach down his leg and explore the neatly tied off bandage,slightly embarrassed himself when he realized that Lil must have been the one to tie it on him. "Good work,nice and tight!!" A lingering scent of light flowers wafted past his nose and he knew that the Welsh Wench had checked on her cook sometime in the last hour or so "She's sure to want a big to do as soon as I'm up and around." His grin widened as he caught the slight smell of ink and....... chocolate. "Well now!" He rumbled " Little Elinor has made the rounds too!! It seems she still has a bit of her brownie stash left!! AND she finally pried that boy's hooks off of her ......Logbooks!"  On a low stool next to his cot,along with a tin cup of water, Martin found a puzzling sight. Bits of whalebone scrimshaw,a carved wooden pipe,a seamans knife it's blade sharp enough to shave with but most strange was a single perfect rose. His eyes narrowing as he picked it up and studied it closely........it wasn't carved but,molded, each petal just so,the stem was a quill cut down from a feather and the two leaves themselves were actually downy feathers died light green and attached to the stem. The roses color was one not readily found in nature,it was a deep dark crimson. He was startled as a low cough came from the slightly opened door "I was 'opin 'at yood like 'at!!" Gordie said with a look that carried his unease at being belowdecks, the level of the sea just outside the frail wooden bulkheads was more than the little man could stand. "Sam and the others hepp'ed me wit  'at!" He gestured to the unlikely looking flower. "Bet'cha caint figure out 'ow I got er 'at color Sir!" The rattled man knuckled the nonexistent hatbrim with a quick salute. "At ther is yoor own blood a colorin' 'at rose!!" He cackled "I come down from the 'Nest ta hepp 'em clean tha decks! "Gordie!!!" an irate Duckie entered the door and the lookout promptly scampered out of the room,headed for the open air of the main deck!'  With an amused look  Martin fingered the delicate rose. "Now Duckie!" He admonished the good Doctor, " Why would you chase a visitor from my lonely bedside!?" Snatching the flower from the cooks hand with blinding speed, Duckie looked at it and smiled.widely,"Just as I thought!! He crowed, "This thing is naught but scraps of cloth ,parts of several feathers,your blood ...........and gull droppings!!" "GOOOOOOORRRRRRRRDIE!!!!" Martin howled as he watched Duckie break into a prolonged laugh!!!!!!               

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"'Whoopsie'?  That's all you have to say?"
"Whoopsie daisy?", offered a doe-eyed Honour.  She popped another brownie in his mouth, and ate one more herself.
Jack tried to give his wife a stern look, but it was seriously blunted by a ridiculous smile that refused to go away.  The snort of a suppressed laugh further ruined the effect.  Within moments, the pair were laughing almost uncontrollably.
"Wait!  Wait... I have to figure this one out," said Jack.  He picked up the empty container and looked at the nearly illegible label.  "Oh, I see it now!  'Caaaashew Butter'.  Easy mistake.  Lucky was always slurring his words."
Honour grabbed Jack by his shirt collar and pulled his face close to hers.  "You're making fun of me again, aren't you?"
He cocked his head, then moved as if he were about to kiss her.  His lips brushed hers ever so slightly, but enough to send a thrill running through her. 
"Just a little," he smiled devilishly.
She looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, trying to regain her composure. 
"Well, that won't do," said Honour, not quite sure why he was still so close.  Then she remembered, and let go of his shirt.  Clearing her throat, she continued.  "In the future, you have to ask my persimmon."
Jack burst into a wide grin.  "Darling, as much as I enjoy sampling your fruits, I think you mean another word."

Honour could feel her face getting hot.
"Oh!  I mean my parmesan... no, that's not right."
"Your pomegranate?  I like that one..."
"No!  Now hush!  I'll think of it.  And quit helping."
"My lips are sealed."
She stuck her tongue out at him.  "As if.  I know where those lips have been."
"Ah, but where they could be is so much more intriguing."
She could feel the heat plunging south.  She'd seen Jack eat a pomegranate, and she had wanted to trade places.  "Hush!  What were we talking about?  Oh, right.  What you have to ask for..."
Jack started to open his mouth, and Honour slapped her hand over it before he could make a sound.  "Shush!!  Perdition, persimmon..."
"We did that one..." he said around her fingers.
"Parmesan...
"That too..."
"Pompadour, parachute, paramedic, pardner, pardner, parma--"
Jack perked up with a quizzical look.  "Par-ma??!!"
She slapped him on the forehead.  "That's not being quiet!"  Then her eyes lit up.  "Permission!  That's the word!  Permission!  That's what you have to ask."
"You know how much I like begging for forgiveness instead."
"Yeah, well, that was yesterday." 

Jack sighed heavily, and took another brownie for her and himself.  "There was a time 'permission' didn't factor into things."
"Just...  don't do it in front of my crew, please?  Make fun of me, I mean."
"You mean our crew?"
Honour's eyes lit up.  "Our crew?"
"Well, of course!  They've already distinguished themselves under fire.  Ships don't work well under two crews, darling.  We're already pushing the limits with two captains, but I know that will work out just fine.  Your little artillery drill proved that out."
She smiled at the thought of the two ships she permanently buried in the harbour of Glenlivet.
"It takes more than a loud voice and a snazzy pair of boots to make our master gunner snap to," continued Jack.  "You acquitted yourself quite nicely.  The men respect you."
"Only because they know you'll flay them alive if they don't..."
"Don't go getting all modest on me, Honour Bright.  I haven't said word one to them, yet they obeyed.  You've got what it takes to be a captain."
"What?  A strong notion and abject fear?"
Jack laughed.  "That's about it."

"How do you do it, Jack?  Lead these men through hell and back, and keep them loyal?"
"Easy," he smiled.  "I'm too stupid to know I can't do it."
Honour leaned back and laughed heartily.  "You're anything but stupid.  You don't attend Oxford and get away with being stupid."
"All right, you caught me.  But I don't have a good answer.  I speak, they follow.  That's all that matters, right?"
"I suppose," she said.  "And you weave a good tale.  I remember the stories you'd tell me when we'd go to bed."
"I remember them, too.  I enjoyed it so much."
"So of all those stories," she asked carefully, "how many of them were true?"
"Why, my dearest, all of them were true."
"What about the lies?"
Jack gave her a sly smile.  "Especially the lies."
Honour leaned close and took him by the collar.
"Jack Wolfe, you are, without a doubt, so full of--"
KA-BOOM!!

Her words were drowned out by an artillery volley that shook the entire vessel.
"Bloody hell!" cried Jack.
"There's that Bacardi thing again!" she laughed.
Jack jumped to his feet and nearly fell over.  If it hadn't been for the bulkhead, he would have been flat on his face.
"Walk much?" she teased.
"You heard that!  It was a full broadside!  Maybe those following ships weren't out friends after all!"  He ran at full speed to the door, opened it, and plunged headlong into the pantry.
Honour nearly fell off her seat laughing at the sight of Jack stumbling backwards out of the the narrow space, trying franticly not to lose his footing on the dried beans he'd sent spilling across the deck.
"Bollocks!" he exclaimed.
"You'd better not teach that language to our..." she trailed off, realising what she'd almost said.
"Our what?" asked Jack, knowing full well she was talking about Zara.
"Um, our crew!"
"Right.  They're terribly impressionable.  Anyway, I'm off to the main deck to find out what's going on.  Care to join?"
"Lead on!" she said merrily, and tried not to laugh when Jack's feet slipped again on the beans.

Jack strode on to the weather deck with a purpose, straightening his frock coat for the umpteenth time.
"Mr. Godwin!  What's the meaning of all this?" he barked.
The master gunner scurried over to face his captain.
"Eh?"
Jack rolled his eyes.  "What is going on?" he asked, louder and slower.
"Oh, this?  Just an impromptu gunnery drill, sah!" Godwin said with a grin.
"Live rounds?"
"Of course, sah!  Not much point in doin' it, otherwise!"
Jack gave a heavy sigh.  "Right.  Gun crews!  Your attention!"
"Aye, Cap'n!" came a cry from the gun decks.
"Gentlemen," Jack intoned with as much authority as he could muster.  "Cool it with the boom-booms."
The men looked at each other in confusion.  "Aye, sir!" came the lukewarm reply.
"But what of the proficiency drills?" Godwin asked.
"You can blow holes in the waves another day," answered Jack. 
Suddenly, he felt his hair being swept away to one side, and his eyes grew wide at the suggestions being whispered into his ear.  When he turned, he saw the retreating form of Honour pause at the companionway door.  She gave him a smoky smile and crooked her finger before turning away to walk toward the great cabin they seemed destined to share.  Transfixed by the sway of her hips, Jack waved the master gunner away and followed, oblivious to the world around him.

Mason pushed past the couple as he came onto the deck, finishing off the last of the brownies.
"You just missed the spectacle," smirked Davis.
"What you mean?" asked Mason around his mouthful of brownie.
"The cap'n and his missus were up here actin', well, uncaptainly."
Mason chuckled.   "'At's because they're stoned."
"Stoned?"
"Yeah," said Mason, matter-of-factly.  "These brownies were chock full of hashish!"
"Like what them Jamaican mystics smoke to get visions?"
"Yeah, somethin' like that."
"It don't seen to affect you one bit."
"Yeah, funny, ain't it?" Mason smiled.

[Blackjack Roberts]

"I'm sure it's nothing more than Brother Timothy's excitement over something valuable he's found in the chest he nicked from the church." Honour smiled beguilingly. "At the moment we have more pressing concerns. Martin will be laid up for a few days and someone other than Gordie had better make up the duty."

"Aye!" Blackjack nodded grimacing. "I'd hate to think what that half mad lookout would try to turn into something palatable."

"Well can you cook, Mr. Roberts?" Though her voice was slightly demanding, the merry twinkle in her sapphire blue eyes told the buccaneer she was teasing him.

"Nay, Captain." Roberts chuckled good heartedly. "With perhaps the exception of camp cooking for myself, but I learned to acquire a taste for my own charcoal mishaps that I could be fairly certain the rest of the crew will not share."

"Then it's up to me." Wench grinned.

"As you wish, M' Lady." Blackjack swept the cavalier hat from his head in an exaggerated bow before turning to leave.

"You might want to make peace with Malcolm while your at it." She called lowly after his back. Jack froze for a moment.

Without looking back she heard him say in a tone so low he might have been talking to himself. "I already have, Luv......I already have."

"Then why not go and see him?" Wench asked seriously.

"The other Captain Wolfe is a fine man, but how long do you think his charity would hold out were he to find that I, Malcolm, and Cade are related? As long as I don't draw too much attention to Malcolm he remains an old school chum, with a bit of a sticky past. Add Cade to that mix and it might be more than the man could bare."

Roberts turned his head just enough to look at her. "I know a bit about the lengths the love of a woman can push a man to, Luv. I saved Malcolm from a death I had intended to inflict upon him. I'll not risk that for a few moments of sentimentality."

Honour sighed sadly before he continued with that same roguish smile. "However I do believe I'll take the time to visit with Martin a bit later." With a knowing wink Roberts walked away down the hall as Wench smiled, shook her head, and started towards the galley.

Just to be certain of what he had thought he heard he stopped at the closed door the monk's voice had sounded loudly from a few moments before. From inside he heard the sound of two distinct voices. One Brother Timothy's, the other deep and malovent. That was when Jack remembered the priest was supposed to be alone in the room. Had one of the malcontents from the Isle of Tratiors managed to sneak aboard durring the scramble to get out to open sea? Jack scowled deeply, flames of anger sparking his blue green eyes.

Loudly he rapped on the solid wood. It seemed unnaturaly cold to his hand. "Brother Timothy!! Are you alright in there?!!"

"A little help if you don't mind!" Came the reply from the other side.

Blackjack drew back and rammed his shoulder into the door with all his weight. It was like ramming an iceburg.

"Damn!" He cursed rubbing his cold numbed shoulder. "This isn't going to be easy." Drawing back he attacked the stubborn door over and over again, hoping against all hope the next blow from his shoulder would be the one to gain him the entrance in time to aid the holy man.

[lilaney]

Lil's mind was off in a place that did not belong on the high seas.
There, it was green and hilly, with old buildings full of knowledge and learning.
The smell of tobacco and paper mixed with the sharp scent of lye.
How she missed it so.
BOOM!
Not only did it shake her out of her reverie, it shook the entire ship!.
"FOUR!!!" she heard someone yell and the masculine laughter of men getting into trouble.
She physically relaxed as she realized the men topside were being men and did not need her help, when she saw Jack systematically kicking at a cabin door.
"Need some assistance?" She asked dryly.
"A bit would be useful, luv. Seems Brother Hibernian is behind the door with something unfriendly. Have to get in there."
Lil nodded and with their combined effort they kicked open the door to the room where Brother Hibernian and the Treasure of St. Dismas lay.

[Martin Montgomery]

 Martin carefully gathered his boots,breeches and other belongings in a bundled up sheet and after wrapping himself up with another spare sheet,as if it were a kilt,the big man moved gingerly out of the surgery door and down the passageway toward the galley. He had tightly bound up his wound and now moved with extra care not wishing to open the neat line of stitches that Lilaney had sewn into his hide. He felt a little guilty for sneaking out of the recovery area but the cot there was not built to hold someone as tall or as wide as he. The big cook felt that he would rest better in his own hammock,swinging gently to and fro in his curtained off corner of the galley. That and he was slightly worried about the crews unvoiced reactions when he'd asked his visitors who was cooking. Martin knew that the Taylor brothers were competent cooks but the smells that had drifted back as far as the stern Surgery told him that they weren't involved! Moving slowly the injured cook padded along the passageway in his stockingfeet,and the futher he walked the stronger he felt. A slight smile crossed his face as he thought of the members of the combined crew that had visited him or had just left little handmade gifts such a the several pieces of whalebone that was covered with fine scrimshaw designs, carefully carved by one of the gunner's mates that Martin knew could not read a lick but could turn out such finely detailed work freehand that the bone pieces were transformed into art rather than craft. Nearing amidships he began to see crewmen going about their everyday tasks,he nodded to each man that raised a knuckle to his brow and received many smiles in silent greeting. "MARTIN!!!! What in Heaven's Name are you doing out of bed?!?!" The shrill cry cut through the background noise like a hot knife through warm butter!! " AND why are you wandering about the ship with no pants on?!?!?!" More smiles blossomed on several faces as each man present studiously attended his given task with single minded determination! But every man turned to keep the wounded cook and his petite blond captain in view! It wasn't everyday that the Butterfly cowed the Bear!!! Martin grimaced as small hands took away his bundled belongings and a delicate shoulder found it's way under his arm. "Wench! I'm fin......" He began to speak but thought better of it once he saw the worry on her fine features. " Do you see these lines?!? A vague wave of her other hand brought to his attention the faint traces, barely discernible on her flushed face. "These are all because of you!!!" A smile crossed her face and it was as if a cloud had moved from in front of the sun,her features suddenly becoming cheerful, "Well as long as your up and you don't seem to be leaking", a quick swish of the draped sheet and she had a clear view of his wound and the fact that he wasn't wearing his trews!! WW turned a lovely shade of pink and cleared her throat,"Yes. Well I will have someone find the good Doctor and he will check you out. You can supervise the cooking if he releases you to do light duty work." Schooling her face into a scowl she waved one of the loitering crewmen off to that task and then led Martin into the galley,past the still smoking oven and into his small curtained area. "Sit sit wait here til Duckie can check your wound!!" With that she swept off,out into the passageway and crossing from his sight!! Leaving him sitting on his hammock  looking bewilderdly at the dark smoke escaping from the ovens' corners

[lilaney]

" 'O meny Times ye gonna be tellin' me! I knows it now, straight from me heart!" Gordy, a man who was not nessicarily afraid of anything; was now hollering from the safety of his Crow's Nest.

Dr. Gander shaded his eyes as he looked up at the protesting lookout, he inwardly reveled in the fact that most sailors were superstitous and if he had to use that superstition against them to make them behave, so be it.

Tucking the Witch Doctor's 'magic pouch' (which was really a bag of sand, nails, bits of glass, and lavender) back in his side pocket, Drake headed back into the skin of the vessel. He had noticed the sailors acting a bit wobbly and he could smell wafts of fragrance on the air that was akin to that one time in Jamaca, but, he was not concerned. Those on watch were fine, thus, the ship would survive.

A few long strides had him at the door of the surgery, to find it unsurprisingly empty, an eye roll an several more strides had him going past the door to the Captain's quarters, the ladies berthing, and broken in door of the Brother's room.
He paused for a second as he peered into that room. The interior was pitch black, and no sound was coming from there.
"Odd" he thought, but, he kept moving, straight to where he thought he might find one errant paitent.

"Doc! I thought it would be better if I slept in my own space and kept an eye on things in here."
Before Drake could get a word out, Martin was on the defense. He raised a hand to quiet him. And gave a reassuring smile.
"I figured that you would eventually come home to roost. Not to worry, the initial harm is over. If there has been no bleeding up until now, as long as you take it easy. And no, that does not mean you can go back to your duties. You can command from right where you are. What is burning?"

Martin gestured to the oven. Drake turned to look at the gentle black smoke that was coming through the cracks in the front.
"It seems my Captain has been cooking."
Martin's blithe answer was commented back with a mild flurry of coughing and creative upper-crust cursing as Drake took the pan of brown/black substance out of the oven and placed it on the counter.
"Oh! There done! Thank you, Ducky!"

Welsh Wench sauntered, as best as she could, into the Galley retrieved the pan and staggering as the ship dipped slightly, she sauntered back out.
Dr. Gander stood there, a passive and unimpressed look on his face.
"I'll be in my stateroom" He gave Martin a look that warned him to stay where he was, and left the Galley.

[Elinor Hakebourne]

"Elinor? Where are you, lass?"

Safely hidden -- for the moment -- from Julian's prying eyes, she held her breath, listening to the sound of his voice gently calling throughout the ship. "Incredibly foolish, Elinor, to let your guard down like that. Now he can't stop looking for me!" She whispered, not sure whether to laugh or groan at the thought. She liked Julian well enough, and she would be the first to admit that she had enjoyed "reconciling their friendship" together, but...

It was wrong of her to kiss him. She was betrothed! Her mind flitted back to thoughts of the nightmare she'd had while recovering from her wound, William with another woman, leaving her in the dust...

No. He wouldn't act in such a manner, She thought to herself.

She couldn't hear Julian calling her name any longer, and breathed a sigh of relief at that realization. I'll go see him at some point, She resolved. But for now, it would be nice to catch up with my crewmates...alone.

Wondering where most of her friends had gotten off to, she wandered the ship, careful to keep a lookout for Julian. All of a sudden, she heard a crash, the sound of a door being broken down, and she rushed to where the commotion had come from. As she approached, she saw Lil and Blackjack entering into a cabin. "What is going on here?" Elinor muttered, frowning.

[Hibernian]

Blackjack moved through the now open doorway then stepped left knowing that Lil following closely even without being told would take the right. By the time both were within the cabin their hands were filled, pistols for the first and throwing daggers for the latter. Yet the scene before them left both doubtful that either could help.

His back againt the cabin's dresser, arms extended with a small silver crucifix in his left hand Brother Timothy stood facing a dark cloud that seemed to be looming over him. Although he seemed unharmed, Blackjack noticed the beads of sweat upon his face and that the monk's face seem pale even for this Irishman. Yet his hand and voice was steady.

"Roberts, Lil, glad you join us."

[Blackjack Roberts]

Blackjack stood stunned for a moment, then instinctively fired the flintlock in his right hand at the shadowy shape slowly taking form in front of Brother Timothy, aiming for the center of the mass where it seemed the thickest. Hollow, bone chilling laughter filled the room, bringing the short hair on the back of his neck to attention.

"What in bloody hell is that thing?!" He shouted to the trapped monk.

"It's a demon! And watch your bloody language, if you please, Jack!" Brother Timothy shouted back. Swearing from a monk was certainly not a good sign. To Blackjack's relief the darkening cloud floated a few steps away from the holy man and seemed to be facing them all at once now.

"Any bright ideas, Blackjack?" Lil quipped staring at the shadow with a mixture of resolve and apprehension.

"Love me if I know, Luv." Blackjack shoved the now useless pistol back into his belt and filled the free hand with his strange cutlass. "Even in the Orient I've had little to do with spooks. Besides, he's the priest!" Jack nodded in Brother Tim's direction, his widened eyes never leaving the shadow quickly taking the shape of a man before them.

"Monk!" Brother Timothy corrected. "From what I can gather it's the soul of the thief that insulted our lord while on the cross and was damned for his sin."

"Well he's here now!" Lil interjected. "So how do we send him back?!"

"I would suggest we think of something rather soon." Blackjack mused, his heart pounding madly in his chest. "I've a feeling that once it finishes taking shape we'll be needing all the divine help we can muster, and personally I'm a bit short on favors from Heaven!"

[Elinor Hakebourne]

As Elinor took her final steps towards the doorway leading into the cabin full of commotion, she heard the otherworldly laughter that emanated from the cabin, and a violent shiver ran up and down her body, making her hands quake. Fumbling at her bodice, she retrieved her dagger and held it out in front of her with clumsy fingers, reluctantly stepping forward. She saw the black shape that slowly gathered itself into being, and could only gape at its horribleness. Every instinct told her to run away, screaming, but she knew she couldn't, not while her friends were stuck with it and thus in danger.

Upon her arrival, however, the shape seemed to sense her presence, and, deciding that the monk wasn't as easy a target as it had once thought, strode forward towards Elinor. Elinor's eyes widened, and despite her fear, an odd thought occurred to her: I really need to stop being the helpless maiden that all the bad guys go for...

[Welsh Wench]

Wench was struggling with the latch on the captain's door when Jack came behind her, slipping an arm around her waist.
"Finally, Honour! It will be you and me, just like the old days. Do you know how long I have waited for you?"
She laughed. "As long as I have waited for you?"
He reached over and opened the door.
"After you..."
"Something's burning."
"I know, love. It's me and I----"
"No! Something is BURNING! OH MY GOD IT'S THE BROWNIES!"

Wench dashed back to the kitchen. She batted the smoke away with her hands, fanning it in every direction. She remembered to take the potholders and took the pan of brownies out of the overn.
"Cooking is not your strong suit, is it, Wench?"
"Martin! I didn't see you there! Look...wow! You can see the smoke dancing and rising all over the galley.  Kind of like little butterflies, you know?"
She threw the pan down and sighed. "Well, Daemon always said I was smokin' hot."
"I don't think that was what he meant, Wench. By the way, what did they used to be in a former life?"
"Brownies from a recipe I found in one of Jack's books. It was next to some stuff called khat. Think it was some kind of ground up melon. Like khataloupe."
"Cantaloupe."
"That too. Puddin' seems to like it."
She snapped her fingers. "That's it! It's khatnip! He used to get really funny on it. He'd get all slobbery and the stuff would get like tea and dribble down his chin--they do have chins, don't they, Martin? Cat chins?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
She continued, "Anyways, anytime you got near him to take the khat away, he'd swat your hand and hiss."
"Jack? Or the cat?"
"Um....I guess both of them.  But Jack didn't dribble down his chin. His eyes would get a bit glazed and he was a wonderful....oh, look! They are cool enough to cut now!"
All of a sudden, Wench burst out crying. Martin sighed, "What is it now, Wench?"
"I miss Muir! And we need to find Amber, too! DAMN CADE!  Messing up my life was enough but what did those itty bitty pooches ever do to deserve this?"

Martin took Wench in his arms and awkwardly patted her on the back.
"There, there..."
She dabbed her eyes and said, "Where? Where?"
"Wench, I think you need to leave the brownies alone and sleep off this.....mood."
She blew her nose. "Martin, I am so sorry you were injured in the dock melee at La Ville du Traitre. It was so unfair! Have I ever told you what a good friend you are to me?"
He smiled and said, "With every breath you take, Captain."
She smiled back and cut the brownies.
"Would you like one, Martin?"
He shook his head.
"I'll pass, thank you very much. They look a bit burnt. Where did all that smoke come from anyways?"
She popped a brownie in her mouth. "I don't know. But it seems to have waffled--"
"Wafted."
"Right. Wafted. Wafted from Brother Timothy's cabin and---OH MY GOD I LEFT SOMETHING HEATING UP IN THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS!'
"What?"
"THE CAPTAIN!"
She dashed out of the kitchen and then came back.
"Umm...I'll be taking these with me."

Jack had turned down the bed and lit a few candles.  He opened up the bottle of merlot he knew Wench was fond of.  Now just what was taking her so damned long?

Wench ran past Brother Timothy's cabin and heard an otherworldy voice emanating. She came to a screeching halt and opened the door.
There stood Brother Timothy holding a crucifix before a shape evolving as a man. Blackjack Roberts stood there with smoking flintlock in his hand.
Wench stood there with her mouth forming a perfect O.
She gazed from Brother Timothy to the form to Lil to Blackjack back to the form.

She offered the plate to the entity and said in a cheery voice, "Um...would you like a brownie?"

[Blackjack Roberts]

As the quickly thickening shadow moved forward towards Elinor and Wench Blackjack stepped in the way. His left hand shot forward releasing a ball of flame, followed a split second later by a full force swing of his cutlass. For a moment the weapon slowed, as if he had sliced into something with all the resistance of water, then passed through with enough momentum to cause him to nearly lose his balance.

The shocked pirate stepped backward, his eyes wide with fear. "This is not good!" He exclaimed staring down at his blade.

His fingers were numb and cold, a thin sheet of frost covered the oriental steel. Light wisps of fog curled up from the steel. A vile chuckle was the only reaction from the demon.

"Blackjack! I didn't know you were a wizard!" Wench giggled, a bit too happily considering the situation.

"I'm afraid I'm not, Luv." Roberts explained. "That were not more than a bit of trickery I learned in the Chinas. The only magic I know is naught but a few conjuror's tricks with special applications. At the moment I would suggest either a rather hasty retreat, a bit of real magic, or a few heartfelt prayers!"

"Now I lay me down to sleep. A bag of peanuts by my feet." Wench began.

Blackjack stared at her incredulously for a moment. "Luv, have ye been in yer cups?!"

"Not at all, Mr. Roberts." Wench giggled again. "It's these brownies. I made them with real cannibal butter.....Oh, that's not right!....Can of bliss butter! No, that's not it either....but close."

"Cannabis butter?" Blackjack interjected.

"That's it!" Wench held one finger up.

"Could you two save the cooking lesson for later?" Lil broke in, pointing one dagger at the dark shade. "LOOK!"

[Hibernian]

His eyelids clamped tight at the same moment his mind was screaming at Roberts and wondering to all the saints in heaven where that man had gotten a fireball! Pirate yes, highwayman yes, reliable ally so far so good but magical arts no way, but the burn upon the monk's face told overwise. Had he missed something or was there more to this Roberts than met the eye? Note to self, worry about pirate later, worry about spawn of the Evil One now or there may not be a later.

While Robert's fireball and gallant effort to slash the demon in half actually had little effect, Brother Timothy was surprised to see the demon turn toward the cabin doorway. Like the thunder head of a dark storm cloud the mass slowly shifted within itself until what could best be called a front was now moving toward Wench who was kneeling upon the floor with her hands folded and appeared to be praying over her plate of brownies. Roberts, too far to the left to reach her, pulled his second and last pistol but the look upon his face told all that it was wishful thinking.

Why was it going for her? Dam it, turn around come to me...do something you're the monk! Then the relic cross raiseed high, shouting out loud in a clear voice "Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut descedas! In His name unclean spirit depart!"

The deck beneath his feet shudder as he felt a small breeze from nowhere cool the burn upon his face, and then it appeared that the swirling mass of darkness stopped in its tracks. Perhaps only for the blink of an eye but none the less long enough for Lilaney to dive to her left rolling Wench out of the harm's way. The two ended up in the corner behind Roberts where Wench, thinking it great fun was now shouting for her turn.

"You have no power here evil one, your time has come and gone, there is no one left for you, return to you master and depart this world." On the one side Blackjack kept moving but always staying between the women and the darkness, hoping that Brother Timothy had an ace to play because the pirate was all in and ready to fold. For his part, Brother Timothy kept talking, kept praying and as he pass the cabin dresser quietly grabbed a bottle of water. The demon seemed hestitant, no easy prey, no doubters, now was the time, bless the water, trust the power of the relic cross from the chest and banish the demon. Slowly the monk moved forward. What had his old novice master always said, 'trust in the...'a noise at doorway drew his attention.

Elinor walked through the doorway and looked straight at the swirling mass of darkness. Elinor's eyes widened, and despite her fear, an odd thought occurred to her: I really need to stop being the helpless maiden that all the bad guys go for...
"I can help you, I can teach you how not to be the weak one."
Elinor heard the words in her head and a small part of her listened. Not to be the weak one, that would be nice. I would be more useful then.
"You would not be the weak one, you could be the leader, the one who protects the others."
To protect others is a good thing, to help them, like Wench helps her crew.
"You could be strong like her, you could be Captain, just let me help you."

As Elinore entered the room the demon moved toward her and both Timothy and Roberts saw her eyes glaze over and her body stiffen.

"No! Not her, leave her be, she is not for you" Roberts was looking directly at Elinore as he heard the monk shouting and knew in his heart somehow the evil in the room was attacking the young scribe. Why bother with a tough old monk and black hearted rogue when a fresh young thing walks right into your grasp. Her eyes were glazed as she slowly moved toward the darkness. Roberts knew he had to stop her, he raised the pistol in his hand, there had to be another way.

"Blackjack, stop her, don't let her make physical contact. Dam it Roberts move!"
He looked at the monk and then at his pistol, lowering his arm he couldn't shoot her, not Elinore.
"Roberts, don't let him have her, she will be the entry into our world, put her down now! You have to do it."

Brother Timothy was trying to move around to the side of the darkness, relic cross in one hand the bottle of water in the other.  The words he was shouting  lost in the confusion  but as the monk moved he was waving the cross over the water. Elinore continued to step ever closer and Roberts tears in his eyes raised his pistol.

Taking a deep breath to steady his aim, Roberts pulled his hand back to his ear and then a quick snap of the wrist launched his pistol at the young girl's head. True to his aim the butt end connected and down went Elinore.

[Blackjack Roberts]

"Bloody Hell, and damnation!" Blackjack stepped into the small space remaining between the unholy apparition and the unconscious scribe. His insides all but screaming for him to flee, and the undercurrent of rage at being forced to harm a friend. In the end it was the rage that won out.

"I'll be damned if ye'll harm a single hair on that child's head!!" Roberts roared, his free hand searching inside his half open shirt for another of his Lin Qui tricks. Anything to buy them a few precious seconds until the monk could find something to send the creature back to the Abyss it belonged to.

"That can be easily arranged, Jack Roberts." The disembodied voice sent shivers of dread coursing through the highwayman, come pirate. Yet whether it was from the unearthly tone, or the sound of his given name from the demon that caused such horror to course through him, even Roberts couldn't say.

Two loud thunks into the wood of the bulkhead to his right showed that Lil had sent two of her deadly throwing daggers sailing through the vile smoke that formed the spirit's head to little avail. Blackjack rummaged deeper in his clothing, he was certain that he had brought....A sudden howl of rage and despair froze him in his tracks as the shadow floated a few feet backwards from the panicked buccaneer.

Looking down he noticed the jade amulet that Jun Quon had given to him in prison so long ago had slipped out. A dragon and a tiger locked in mortal combat around a flawless black pearl. Blackjack swore his fear had caused his eyes to play him tricks, the pearl seemed to glow with a light bluish haze.

Roberts shook his head for a moment to clear his sight and when he looked again the faint glow was gone, if it had ever really been there to start with. Small matter, for some reason the evil shade had retreated and given them a bit of breathing room.

Jack quickly took Elinore by the arms as Lil grabbed her ankles and they half carried the unconscious girl over to where Wench crouched with her plate of happy brownies.

Blackjack shoved the small amulet back into his shirt, then jerked Old Hob free of it's frog. Whirling around, cutlass in one hand, whip in the other he faced the denizen of the netherworld again with small hopes for a victory, but determined to go down fighting if it came to that.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lil take up the position on his right. If the thing tried to attack Elinore again, it would have to pass the two of them first.