With matter's tended to with the shipwright, a quarter of the crew were sent on their leave with the stipulation they would relieve the other's in the common watch times. There was no doubt that they would return, it was simply the way of it, not to mention they didn't want the Captaine to come looking for them. The last time it had happened, the wench made them feel as if their bullocks had shrunk into tiny throwing marbles.

What was rather odd, was most of the time they ended in the same Tavern, and today was no exception to that.

The Angry Wheel Tavern sat deep within the harbor district. Hickory Street was one of those places that you really didn't want to venture to alone, day or night. While it was chock full of your trollops and vagrants, there was a certain quality, a certain code that most lived by without thought of retribution. It was such a thing, that the local Watch didn't even venture down there. What was the point?

The Opium Den's had sprung up several year's earlier and that was one place, unless you were knee deep in the brown stickiness, that you just stayed away from.

The Angry Wheel, well it fell into that perimeter and most present, were always present. Most recently, a crazy mage had been selling his spells to the patrons, and they bought them strangely enough. There was also the knowing of a press gang collecting drunks for sport. Their bodies of course were never found, but the points racked up were staggering. Then there was the rumor of some high walking emissary that had sent his scouts into the district, in search of an escort, as he was soon to travel to a hostile kingdom. That was amusing at best. His head was going to be lobbed off regardless, more than likely by the escort themselves.

All in all, if one was to keep to their pork chop's, dragon turtle omelet's, corn and raspberries, not to mention their warm ale, things would be fine. Mostly.

Bonnie had been thrilled when Aullere had walked through that door. So much so, that the elder woman near kissed her dead on the mouth, but refrained for the moment. Her typical table cleared and the two bottles of scotch, she required placed, the Captaine was left her to own devices. She would be there, for hour's, maybe even day's, which sounded ludicrous, but it was true.

It wouldn't be long until the volume of the other patrons and the going on's, were ignored and she fell into the stacks of charts rolled out across the scarred table. In this place, there was no threat of being interrupted. At least not in a way that would set her nerves on edge.

For instance, a runner had skidded to a halt near the table to deliver a stack of missives to the Captaine. Once the coin had been exchanged, the boy had run off and without a word. In that stack, Aullere came across the one from Silver and after reading it several times, muttered a string of curses and went back to what she was doing.

One thing for certain, she always knew who was closest. Whether they were drunks tooting their own horn, or someone that just didn't fit.

Several set's of eyes were on this newcomer from the moment he entered the Tavern, through every step he took. An older mariner, who went by the name of Jibb's, gave his poker partner an elbow nudge and muttered. "Well look wha' we bae gotten here, Reg." And chin pointed towards Jamie in reference. Reg of course, was brought from his cleavage inspection and leaned back in his chair.

At the corner of the Tavern sat several crewmen, well into their cups even at this early hour of the morning and two of them knew exactly who Jamie was and were talking quietly amongst themselves. No need to gun him down right then and there, for he would probably end up taking care of that himself in due time. One thing was for certain, Captain Esperanza would be happy to know he had been spotted.

Still standing right where she was, the male was close enough for Aullere to smell his breath, which wasn't very attractive and turned her head to look at him over that same shoulder.

While these particular chart's were of no consequence one way or another, it was simply the point that he would be so bold as to approach in such a manner in the first place. "I dun ken who y' are, lad...but y' best take heed to a certain level of etiquette when walking up behind someone who already has the dirty edge of a blade aimed for your groin." Aullere's voice kept to an almost whisper between them, if he was to look down, certainly he would see what she was talking about.

"Now, if y' have a lick o' sense twixt those big ear's o' your's, y' will step around th' table an' approach like a man an' nae some bairn who ain't walked a step on y' own in y' entire life."

The blade of the dirk was slid to the side, but not put away. It wasn't often put away in this place, that wasn't going to change now. Aullere could never be accused of being cordial, or polite. It was simply not the way of it. Nor was it the way of a commoner to bounce into any Tavern and impose themselves on anyone, because they felt like being nosey or cute. A hard lesson to be learned, but one with necessity.

A shift of palm across the charts in a smoothing motion, the held piece of charcoal was back to working and for a brief moment, a flash of green eyes could be seen as she glanced up between pale tendrils with a wry chuckle. "Jamie, eh? A dandy name if I ever did hear one."

Several of her crew still watching this unfold, Aullere tipped her chin slightly and they went back to what they were doing, just as most of the other patrons had done moment's earlier.

"Wha' can I do for y', Jameson Mitchell?" No response to his placement, if it was still a problem, he would certainly be aware. Nor did she offer her name, yet. A moment taken to straighten up her frame, a length of herb was lit and the strike was set away.

Making notes of specific channels, Aullere, while intent on what she was doing, was listening to Jameson over the thrum of the busy tavern. A glance now and then meeting him, a slender brow quirked at the mention of one Amaryllis, but there was nothing else there or apparent in recollection....openly. The name familiar, it was highly possible it wasn't the same individual. Regardless, it was many years ago and her mind was not exactly the most stringent of things.

Bringing over a third bottle, Bonnie gave Jameson a long once over as she had done when he had first come in and grinned so wide, it nearly reached the swollen tracts of cleavage nearly tumbling from her bodice. "Name's Bonnie, you make sure to let me know if you need anything....anything at all." Heavy innuendo in her tone, she tilted the handsome male a wink and sashayed away to gather more empties discarded here and there.

"Now that's a handful t' tangle a set of bed sheets." Muttered, it was hard to tell if Aullere was referencing Bonnie or Amy.

Ticking a chair over with the tip of a boot, Aullere sunk into it and leaned back. "Some year's ago, this used to be the place for a lot o' things. However, time's change." A sprinkle of ash meeting the bodice donned, it was blown away and another inhale taken as she regarded him.

Indeed, not the time of the year to be seeking work, winter would be upon them in short order and most were making preparations for that alone and not thinking of pulling anchor.

Attention then drawn to one nearly barreling into the establishment, Harlow gave a quick glance and headed for Aullere and Company. "Th' load came in, Cap. Keifer dun sent m' to let y' ken she'll b' done in the next two days." To which Aullere nodded. "I'll be down there later, let him know." The crewman nodded and ambled off to find a pint before leaving.

"Gonna be hard pressed to find a vessel headin' anywhere at th' moment. Wha's y' hurry t' head south, eh?" Inquired rather bluntly of Jameson, the length of herb spent and nearly burning the flesh between her finger's, it was dropped to the floor.

Everyone had a story to tell, a mean's to an end or a beginning of the same.

Jameson would find, if he stuck around long enough, that Aullere was a creature of habit. To an extreme level. While considered hard and brass, she was also one that could take even the most useful of information that was verbally spoken and just keep it in the back of her mind while there was never an outward sign of having heard it in the first place. This conversation was absolutely no exception to that rule.

She had a harsh sense of humor, with a give and take mentality of the same. Always on her game, the mind was a clouded mass, but it forged with a oily wheel circumstance. It never stopped.

At the further mention of Amaryllis De Winter, she knew it was the same woman she had known many years ago. While there had never been a drop of blood spilled between the two, there was no love lost either. A case of too many knee jerk reactions and rumors that ran rapid, it was just plain nasty at some points. But, life went on. For the most part. Matter's in T'sel being at the root of that.

She knew all too well how those inky arms could reach up and snag even the most acclimated land dweller, claiming the one as her own and taking no prisoners. It had been a lot of years since the Captaine herself had been taken and it was only periodically that she swam to the surface. Generally it was over business, her husband or her children, but it was short lived nonetheless.

Legal contracts had their place. Letter's of Marque, the same. The Fleet built from a single lick of wave into something larger than any of them could have realized.

The matter's of piracy and blasphemy were the elements that skirted the fringes of it all. Some said it was the coin that drove such things, but it wasn't. It was the pull of one's most inner recesses and the thrill of adrenalin coursing through pulsing veins. At any cost, life or death, dear God it pulled and suckled like a starving succubus.

A slow scratch meeting the edge of a well weathered cheek, as the male dropped names like rain hitting the innards of a top hat, for some reason, the corner's of Aullie's lips twittered.

"Mmmmm, The Black Rose...Esperanza, Hazeal and Chasmyr....how enjoyable tha' chase had been..." For the first time since he had come up behind her, Aullere's eyes twinkled in emerald amusement. If that did not answer what unspoken questions he had, heaven only knew what would. But she did add for common value. "It was my understanding, Thomas walked intae his own mutiny. A pity really, he did have his....soft spot."

The amusement turning into a slithering grin, she took a moment to glance the din and several sets of cutting eyes. A stare down of sorts, they soon fell away and Aullere's attention moved back to Jamie. He just may be of some use after an elusive trust could be earned and exploited. This was either an ill failed plan on someone else's accord or he was legitimate. Time would tell. It always unfolded in spades.

"Home port is the province of Westmarche, southern in coordinates. This cess pool..." A hand moving in the air, referencing Rhydin. "is rarely ventured, at least for any length of time. I'm expecting another of the Fleet to be joining us before first frost an' will b' ending th' season in Oro Negro."

While Aullere had brought only a skeleton crew, a couple of them had been lost several weeks ago to whatever hand and the help aboard, was in fact needed. "Report t' Moctez, down on th' docks. Hades Handmaiden be th' keel. Big dark, bald male, tell him Aullere sent y'. We'll see if y' indeed want t' get kissed by th' old lass, or y' just playin' a fool's hand." Not telling him the ship was in the dry docks for repair to the hull, she would know if he sought her out....or walked away.

The ledger near by and used as a weight for the corner of the unfurled charts, pulled over and opened. Quill was set to ink well and the name Jameson Mitchell scrawled at one line.

If Jameson expected to be followed, he would be sorely disappointed. There was really no reason for it, though some may have disagreed.

Catching Bryan?s eye, Aullere hooked a finger towards him in a beckon and a slip of parchment was handed to him, along with a coin or three. ?Same as before, find out what you can.? The scout was a quiet sort and gave the woman a nod before finishing off his mead and taking his leave back into the realm. Only seventeen turns of summer, while he was very young, the lad had a mind like a steal trap and remembered certain things in an almost peculiar manner. Most of the crew was completely unaware of him and Aullere liked it that way.

Aullere found it interesting, the names Jameson had dropped. There were ties that needed no explanation, but certain one?s, definitely needed further inquiry. Unobtrusively of course. Chaotic dealings were just that. They had no beginning and clearly the only end was inevitable. Most did not continue to walk freely, as it was common for them just to vanish with no explanation. It was simply not required, when perhaps it should have been.

Moctez would not be hard to find. Even in the crowds that always seemed to migrate around the dry-docks, the man stood out. Large and foreboding, his skin was kissed by velvet midnight and his bald head gleamed in the sun. The bark of his voice holding an island dialect, rich and audible, it?s origin unable to be defined. That day, was no exception to that rule. Even though the Galleon was out of the water and its hull being reworked, there was still work to be done and the Boson was on his game.

?I?s ain?t gots nah moah time for dis nonsense! Yah gets that silk seamed up and in it?s righ?ful place. Comes nightfall and you will for shoah miss your cups, I fookin? guarantee dat!? Bellowed out to the few crew remaining, they jumped into motion and forgot all about those three doxies displaying their expensive wares there along the walkway.

Hades Handmaiden, while it was obviously a Spanish vessel, had been clearly tweaked and modified over the years to an almost pristine condition. Taking its share of war like injuries, time and time again, it rose from what could have been its sure end and was once more worthy. Her beauty unable to be contained.

While Galleons were not built for speed, they were built for strength. Possessing a length of 140 feet with a hundred-foot keel, a beam of thirty-seven feet, and four masts. She weighed five hundred tons and carried thirty-eight guns: twenty-two culverins and sixteen demi-culverins. Her crew numbered 429 crewmen at full capacity. The Handmaiden was steered by means of a whip staff--a long lever attached to a gooseneck hinge that moved the tiller.

More than two thousand trees--pine, cedar, oak, and mahogany--were required to build the largest of these ship?s, some of which became the warships that guarded the flota, or fleet, of vessels bound for Spain from the New World with holds laden with riches. A typical galleon weighed five hundred tons, but the largest were 1,200 tons. The high superstructure, which clearly identified a Spanish galleon, made the ship clumsy and slow. While larger in size, though, life aboard the galleon was no better for mariners than previously designed ships. Wealthy or influential passengers plus their servants could put the total number of people aboard a galleon at two hundred soldiers and sailors and up to fifty civilians, which made for very cramped quarters.

With this all taken into account, there was no question as to why the Spanish Galleon became a Privateer?s candy. They were purely ripe, for a good plucking.

Hades Handmaiden had a number of decks: forecastle, upper or weather deck, main deck, lower or orlop deck, poop deck, and quarterdeck. The crew's quarters were in the bow while the officers and any passengers lived in cramped cabins in the waist or center section of the galleon. Provisions were stowed near the galley. In addition to the crewmen there was also the carpenter, sail maker, cook, and cooper.

Captaine Moir lived in the Great Cabin, earmarked by large windows, greater space, and more comfort. While this was above deck, the crew slept and ate on the gun decks where it was dark, damp, and odorous. Insects and rats abounded and foodstuffs often spoiled.

The crew of a Spanish galleon with thirty guns might number 180 men. In battle, sixty-six worked the guns, fifty manned small arms on the upper deck, and fifty sailed the ship. Four were stationed in the powder room and as many as four carpenters repaired damage below deck. The remaining crew kept watch for fires.

Few galleons sank from enemy attacks, though. The enemy's guns more often damaged the rigging and masts, and inflicted serious wounds on the crew from flying splinters when shot crashed through wood.

The enemies that inflicted the most devastating damage on the treasure galleons, though, were the sea and wind. In spite of its seaworthiness, the galleon was a fragile structure. Hurricanes and rough seas sank more than one treasure ship during those years the galleons sailed.

The pride of the fleet, Hades Handmaiden never failed them....nor would they fail her.

"Hold up right ther'...!" Came the bellow from Lonnie down to Jamie. As if he didn't already have things to do, the young man was skating on thin ice with the crew as a whole since several day's previous. He was never going to make gunner's mate at this rate. Never at all.

Lonnie was not one who had patience, which was the one thing required for anything aboard a ship. Patience and the ability to learn without the sting of criticism that came flying at all times, bothering him. His poppy had filled his head with so many tales of rainbows and glory at the hand of piracy, he never thought in a million years his hands would be bleeding from callouses and his body would be near bent at 19 years of age. "Moc', some fella be lookin' fer yew! Sayin' th' Cap sent him!"

Called out over a shoulder, the Bosun looked up from what he had been doing and took a moment to spy a glance over the rail. "Yah must bae Jameson Mitchell...permission to board. Now get yah arse intae gear..." Word traveled fast through the docking district and Moctez wasn't pleased to be taking on another crew at this stage of the game. It wasn't as if he could take the man under his wing and give him a dandy tour of the ship, there was no time. Still unsure why Aullere would be taking this one on, there had been no outward argument when word had been passed of his arrival, but there would be once the Cap'n was back aboard.

"Odessa! Keep Jamie with yah this afternoon, those crates need t' be hittin' th' dock's post haste!" Odessa was an elder of the crew. Short in stature and long in tooth, he looked near dwarven but never proclaimed such. He had been with the fleet for going on twenty years, at this point.

Seasoned to almost black, Odessa tended to his duties and didn't talk too much. It had been rumored he kept a low profile thanks to the warrants hanging over his head from several ports, Odessa wasn't even his rightful name. It was just one given, some said by Aullere and Owain. "Aye, Bosun."

Over the year's, rumors had flourished about the one known as Odessa, but none were ballsy enough to call it to task. The tale of his past grew in leaps and bounds, leaving one to wonder exactly what was fact versus fiction. All that was supposedly known is he had been marooned off of Serendipity and had been taken into the fold of the Fleet. Supposedly, he had abandoned his post aboard during battle and allowed the crew he was then sailing with, fend for themselves.

It was also stated he held little regard for the consequences, the most dreaded of all punishments, for it promised a slow, cruel death without hope of reprieve.

The disgraced pirate was given not much once marooned on a deserted island, preferably a sand bar without fresh water, food, or shelter. He took with him the clothes he wore, a bottle of water, one day?s worth, a pistol, powder, and shot. His mates returned to their ship and sailed away, leaving him to die.

The island was a prison from which there was little chance of escape. The hot sun burned and blistered his skin. Without food and water he starved and became dehydrated. At high tide, the water might flood the island or leave him standing in water up to his neck. And woe to him if sharks infested the surrounding water. If he preferred a quick death, he could kill himself with the pistol. To do that, however, damned his soul forever.

Some men survived marooning, but those were rare cases. If pirates rescued a marooned man, then they might allow him to join their crew. If merchantmen or warships found him, they assumed him a pirate and delivered him to the nearest port for trial. Most times he would be hung with no regard to his humanity or declarations of innocence.

It was said, Odessa had been found first by Donatien, an arch rival of Sinclaire and Aullere. Somehow, someway, the dwarfish one had fallen into their graces and the only thing left was Donatien's head being delivered to them atop a stake. What happened between, was for anyone's imagination. It just was.

Once Jamie's boot soles hit the deck, Odessa smacked a hand to his shoulder and chuckled. "Welcome to hell boy, enjoy your stay..."

The Watch, keenly aware of the coming's and going's within their harbor, especially when a -known- was once again within their port, made this season of no exception. The weather had turned bitterly cold in what seemed to be overnight, kept most to the haven of their blanket's and tangled bodies. But there was business to maintain and a certain level of propriety.

Day's passed and while Jamie was the green one aboard The Handmaiden, he knew his ass from a hole in the ground and became one of the crew in short order. With every challenge or task, he rose to the occasion and word trickled to Moctez and eventually Aullere, that he just might be one to hold onto....at least for the now.

Jamie would find, that while something's were a direct facade, it all boiled down to the absolute truth that the Fleet, while not all present, was one that ran as a fine oiled instrument.

Planning, intelligence, the ability to adapt to any given situation, leadership, and teamwork were the key to the success of any action. If any one of these was lacking, the action may be jeopardized and the consequences unpredictable. These elements were all incorporated into every decision and venture that was made.

Sand sifted through an hourglass that symbolized the swiftness with which time passed. For them, it meant life was fleeting so they played with the same ferocity as they preyed. Yet the dangers they faced were not so different from those of others who sailed during the beginning of Sail. The beauty of the sea belied the danger it possessed, for in the blink of an eye a ship became a wreck or a storm swept the ablest of seamen from the deck.

The tests of time and tribulation were swift, as each and every crewmen would find. Even when they were moored and unfeeling of the lick of salt encased breeze upon their cheeks.

Given the fact that there was only a skeleton crew aboard, Nereid and Layla took note of new faces and kept to their own as was to be expected. Never allowed to mingle with the crew, while Aullere's children had all been mostly raised aboard, there were few to keep to the task of assuring they were where they were supposed to be, when they were supposed to be there.

It was simply the way of it and part of the ever long list of duties some possessed. A brutal circumstance from birth, there was simply no other way, nor was it to be taken lightly. Ever.

Nereid was swiftly reaching her tender year's of womanhood and much planning had been given in keeping her from falling victim to that of a wayward crewmen or entity. Well schooled and keen in her opinions, she was the quiet one but kept her baby sister close to her skirts with a firm hand as their presence fluttered across the Galleon's deck's.

Merchants purchased ill-gotten gains from the likes of privateers in hopes of making greater profits than they could through legal means. Some wealthier merchants openly financed their expeditions. Forbidden to manufacture anything themselves, British colonists had to import all manufactured goods at high prices. Since pirates had these items (especially scarce goods from foreign countries), and the colonists didn't have to pay high import duties, they welcomed the privateer's who could only be absolutely defined as pirates with a license.

It was the morning the sister's were intended to be delivered to Devin, their beloved brother on the outskirt's of Rhydin, that several Merchant's were waiting impatiently along the docks for word on their inventory coming from the holds of The Handmaiden.

One fool male, spotted Nereid and his groin ached with such a pristine sight. A foul and lascivious lick of his lips noted by several, word passed through the ranks and Moctez was soon moving towards the Merchant. Needless to say, the greasy one would not be picking up his inventory that day, or any other day.

"Dang fool's, ain't nae ever goin' tae learn..." Odessa muttered beneath his breath, he continued alongside of Jamie and didn't elaborate of exactly what he was referring, the Merchant's or the presence of the bairn's.