Sam didn't need to be told again and hurried off, skipping down the short flight of stairs to the main deck, pausing to give Deaf Pete a shake and a kick. "Up!" Shouting because "Deaf" wasn't just part of Pete's name. He'd been manning cannon for longer'n Sam had seen sunlight, and was deaf as a post on one side. "Meetin in thirty, fetch the Gov." And that in passing as the opened hatch door beckoned.

Sam's voice held a rasp that was not altogether due to the harsh salt laden air, nor to being raised above the roar of storms or other voices. There was a faint thread of scar hid under a jaunty scarf (one of the captain's old ones). Sam quite literally owed Captain Black a life.

"Captain's called a meeting at the half." It wasn't near a bellow, but that reedy, husky rasp could carry to the further corners of the galley and companionway.

"An' spoil tea time?" One lanky individual mock moaned as he threw down his cards; he'd been losing that particular hand anyway.

His partner in the game grinned and heaved his bulk off the upended barrel he'd been using as a seat. "Eh, ye'll be getting yer tea in due time, Nibs." The cook was a decidedly unsavory looking man, lacking teeth and an eye. His Nibs had once tried to convince a newer and rawer Sam that it'd all gone into the stews. Which might have had something to do with the fact that for the captain, Sam did the cooking and serving.

"Nah then ye be making teacakes and dainties?" Nibs simpered and crooked a finger as he mimed sipping from a teacup to the guffaws of the others. Sam had already turned tail and padded back up to fetch the Governor from his haven.

No one was late to a meeting on the Sea Wolf.

?Come to order! Come to order or die, you sons of swine and dogs!? Whiskey Jack wanted to kill someone to prove his point, but another voice spoke up over the raucous. The voice belonged to Governor.

?This highly dishonorable, mostly corrupt, and yet quite official meeting of all unworthy courtesans of th? lady SeaWolf is hereby called to order!? shouted Governor as he banged the butt-end of his pistol on the capstan, totally unconcerned of the clear and present danger of having the ?smoking end? of said pistol pointing into his gut. What he was concerned about was punctuality and image. Governor was always on time, and when the Captain called a meeting, Governor was going to make sure that meeting was going to start on time or someone was going to die. He always wore an oversized, long, black coat with tails. He liked the way it complemented his short-cropped red hair and crooked yellow teeth. Governor also always presided over matters of pirate legalese, and therefore he considered himself to be the legal expert and the natural, god-appointed ?Caller of Meetings? on the SeaWolf.

By five minutes before the scheduled time, every single person of the 130-odd crew ? and they were certainly odd ? were on or about the main deck. They were found sitting on the gunn?le, hanging from the rigging, perched on the yardarms, laying on the hold covers, straddling the cannons, lounging in coils of thick rope, and leaning against anything that supported their weight. Then there was the Earl of Wormwood, who always positioned himself fifteen feet over the deck, between the main and mizzenmasts, supported by the wooden keelhaul seat like some acrobat in the midst of a circus tent. He hovered there in the soft glow of the lantern light, perfectly comfortable in his woolen Earl's coat of regal blues and purples, and with an old-style ?professor?s cap? pulled tightly down on his graying hair which was sticking straight out all around the rim. The Earl of Wormwood reached into his woolen cloak with both hands and pulled out two pistols. ?Ye heard Governor, ye worthless scum, now shut yer traps or suffer th? consequences!?

The rumble of voices on the deck quickly settled into complete silence that went undisturbed for nearly a full minute, when the door of the captain?s quarters finally creaked open and Captain Black sauntered out into the open with the slow click-clack cadence of his boot heels upon the wooden deck. He stopped in the midst of his men, spread his feet apart, rested the knuckles of each hand upon his hips and slowly looked around, making eye contact with his men along the way. He smiled a pirate smile of near-perfect teeth. The silver chains about his neck and the sparkle in his dark eyes caught the lamplight with equal luster. He was as handsome as the crew was pitiful, and that created a perverse kind of balance of nature upon the SeaWolf. It was a balance that the men respected. The captain?s looks and charm were the glue that held the rift-raft together. At least it was part of the glue. The other part was their success in plundering merchant ships when the weather was good, and plundering unprepared cities when the fall and winter storms would arrive. Unfortunately, the recent turn of events was hindering that process, something which Captain James Black was not going to tolerate.

?Our captain shall now speak,? Governor announced with a deep bow of exaggerated flourish that parted his waistcoat back over his scabbard.

?Renowned pirates of all the seas. . .? he began his address. It got no response from his crew. ?You worthless, dirty dog sons of bitches who would kill your own mother for a mug of stale ale . . .? he tried again. This time the voices of the men rang out in cheers as they raised their fists, some grasping knives and others grasping sabers. The cheers slowly died down. ?It is time we made our name known in Barrett?s Bay.? Cheers rang out again, this time for several minutes. It was the way their meetings happened. You could not hurry such things. It was the pirate way, and in all practical aspects it was a liturgy of lost souls.

?You dogs may have noticed that there has been a rather inhospitable attitude being directed in our direction when we try to mingle so pleasantly amongst the populace of our King Charles' ports of call. This very evening I had shots being taken at head.? At that remark the crew broke out in never before heard of curses that all had something to do with firing on the city, destroying people and raping the ladies, and sending King Charles II a message.

Captain Black held up his hands to silent the pirates. ?Men! Men! ?Tis not the fault of the towns and those that live therein. It?s seems that I?m being framed for crimes that I didn?t do!? He took out the wanted posted from within his shirt and handed it to Sam. ?Lad, hold this up against the mizzenmast.?

When Sam complied, Captain black looked to Whiskey Jack. ?Whiskey, your knife please.? A knife wasn?t in Whiskey?s hand and then it was?and then it wasn?t again. It was now vibrating in the mast, through the poster and inches above Sam?s fingers.

?Thank you, Whisker Jack.? The pirate just nodded as if it was nothing. For him, it was nothing. He had grown up in the seediest part of Paris and spent years doing little else than throwing knives. His ability to put a blade into someone?s eye socket at thirty feet was the only thing he could take pride in.

The Wanted Poster read:

Wanted:
Captain JD Blood Bath Black, Dead or Alive.
Crimes: High treason against England and Spain
Murder, Plundering and pillaging innocents
Thievery, Arson, Kidnapping, Rape
10,000 gold for any who brings this scoundrel to justice.

The pirates gathered around to look at the poster. Most couldn?t read what it said, so Sam?s help was appreciated. ?Mighty fine resemblance, sir!? Mr. Turmoil said, quite innocent of the implications associated with that picture.

The Earl of Wormwood fired off a pistol and shouted down to the deck, ?That?s not the point, you swine! The point is that our dear and innocent Captain has somehow been framed!?

A man in the back raised his hand. ?Rat has something to say,? Governor announced. "Speak your mind, Rat."

A tall, thin man in a tattered gray shirt and equally tattered gray pants with legs that came only to his calves stepped forward. The man had a long pointed nose, a recessed chin that augmented a significant overbite, large ears and a head that was bald at the crown. No one could disagree that Rat looked very much like his namesake. Rat could not read, but he listened to the words.

?B-but, Captain; h-haven?t we m-murdered an p-p-plundered and p-pillaged innocents?? Rat asked in his characteristic squeaky, stuttering voice. The deck erupted in cheers and saber waving. ?And I b-believe theft a-and k-k-kidnapping and r-rape is what we?re g-good at.? There was another round of joyful shouts and affirmations of Mr. Rat?s great insight. It took a full five minutes to quiet everyone down.

Governor banged the capstan once again with the butt-end of his pistol. This time it fired accidentally, put a bullet hole through his long trench coat, knocked the hat off of Snakeskin (who was too drunk to notice), and embedded itself in the port gunn?le. Governor took a quick look at the new ventilation in his coat and continued to speak as if that kind of near-dear calamity happened every day (as opposed to the usual once a month). ?Listen up, you perverted sons of ill-bred donkeys an? unknown fathers! Our Captain is going to speak!?

Captain Black acted as if this were the most routinely run parliamentary meeting that ever took place. He expected such actions from his men, for they were the people that society had forgotten. They were the rift-raft, the misplaced, the ignored, the avoided, the people who had fallen through the cracks of society. Captain James Black took pity on them. He gave them employment, a position, and respect ? the three things their lives had always been lacking. In return, they each gave him their undying loyalty.

Take Mr. Turmoil for example. Turmoil had sandy hair, a round face, a round body, and a toothy grin. His body was not as round as it once was. He had once been the respected owner of a small boot and shoe repair business in a major port city. He would spend the earnings on food, drink and gambling ? and plenty of each. One night he gambled away his business in a game that he felt sure that he had the winning hand. With no boot and shoe repair business, Tom Merle soon fell into poverty ? and then he fell into the cracks of the city.

One cold, rainy night, a much less round Tom Merle was sitting outside a tavern with a cup in hand, looking pitiful and begging for any loose copper that some kind soul would spare. That?s when he met Captain Black. ?What?s your name,? Captain Black asked him.

?Tom Merle,? he replied while looking up upon the dashing sea captain and trying to shield his eyes from the rain at the same time.

?Well, Mr. Turmoil, I think I would like to offer you a job.

Tom Merle rose to his feet. ?I?ll work hard for you, I will. You won?t be sorry.?

?I?m sure I won?t,? Captain Black replied with a grin. He put a silver coin in Tom?s cup. ?Take care of yourself, Mr. Turmoil, and meet me at the SeaWolf at noon tomorrow.?

?Thank you, sir. Thank you! And the name is Tom Merle.? But no one ever called him that again.

Now, Captain Black was about to speak.

?Sam, I?m putting you in charge of preparations. The rest of you, to your stations. We weigh anchor in ten minutes. We?ve got terror to bring down upon Blood Bath and her crew!?

Sam grinned, the expression a fleeting one though, before the crew scattered. Ten minutes. Ten minutes to get everything ready, lashed into place. Sams place was up then in the rigging after fetching a small net bag filled with what looked like the isinglass balls that fishermen used as floats for their deepwater nets. They were based on the principal, Sam had watched as the glass was heated then blown, so very delicately tinted- and with the same pigments that were used to fashion a fine nobles ruby coloured goblets. But thinner, finer, and stronger somehow though it was beyond Sams ken on the how and why as well as the way of't.

The net bag was tied to Sam's belt to allow for ease of movement as the ropes were navigated, all the way up to the top of the crows nest. Such a view there, the town like some fine ladys jewel box tipped out for the pleasure of the eye. Not that the view was spared much of a glance. There wasn't all that much time. There were wicks to be trimmed, and a careful measurement of chemicals ladled into the base of a special lamp. the glass balls- lanterns, really, were then carefully fastened into place with clever little hooks that wove into the ropes themselves.

There was a special sail as well. It was brought out by Reed and Frypan, angling the heavy, augmented canvase between them as others came to ready it for the voyage.

Sam remained up in the lines until the sails had been reset, clinging to the ropes with fingers and toes as the ship swayed, dipped then glided into motion like a vast shadow and waited for the command to light the lamps.

The SeaWolf cut her way through the ocean?s waves, beginning the voyage from coastal England to Barretts Bay. The morning sun had just made its journey over the eastern horizon, yielding a fine silhouette of the Captain as he stood at the bow, feet spread, and arms akimbo. The morning breeze blew refreshingly against his face, whipping about strands of jet-black hair and rippling his black, silk shirt. He was tall, strong, and determined.

He lifted his right leg and rested his foot on the anchor chock, while leaning forward with his right forearm on his right knee, and his left forearm lying on top of the right. Eyes blacker than coal needed no sunlight to shine brightly. He had a grin upon his handsome face; a grin put there by the promise of action ? and, in no little degree, by the thought of once again meeting Captain JD Black face-to-face.

Whether this journey was actually to vindicate his name and have the bounty lifted, or to once again see the pirate captain who had caught his interest, none would ever be able to say.

It really didn?t matter.

Captain James Black hoped to do both.

?She?s riding high in the water. She?ll be just a waist of our time,? said the Earl of Wormwood as he lowered his scope.

?What do you say, Governor?? Captain James Black asked.

Governor put the flask he had been drinking from into one of the huge pockets in his ridiculously baggy, wool overcoat. ?Maybe they have some rum?or whiskey if we get lucky. Might be worth the trouble.?

The captain took the spyglass back and looked once more on the ship that was drawing nearer on the starboard side. ?She?s a new merchant ship. If she were that high and heading south, I?d say leave ?er alone. However, men, considering she?s heading north, I?d wager a pint of whiskey that says she already dropped off her load and is returning with the hard earned rewards of her travels. It shouldn?t delay us for too long. Let?s take her!?

Governor spread the word and soon the SeaWolf was a hive of activity. With the ransom placed on their captain?s head, the pirating business had dropped off dramatically. King Charles? influence didn?t reach this far, and the men were hungry for action.

The merchant ship was designed for cargo, and not for speed or fighting, so it didn?t take long for the SeaWolf to overtake her. ?Raise the joli rouge!? Captain Black shouted, and British flag was dropped and the red flag was hoisted. The joli rouge, later became the famous ?Jolly Roger? with the skull and crossbows. However, it was originally a simple red ?rouge? flag that everyone knew meant one thing ? if you surrender, your life might be spared. If you chose to fight then no quarter would be given. Lose the fight and every person would be killed and the ship would be sunk.

Again the captain ordered, ?Fire across ?er bow!? There was a thunderous roar as flame and white smoke dissipated into the ocean air, and the cannonball crossed the bow of the Valiant Duck. Within seconds a white flag of surrender was being waved at the bow of the merchant ship and it?s sails were dropped. The pirates of the SeaWolf tossed iron hooks to the other ship to secure the two ships together, and within moments they had boarded the merchant ship with shouts, pistol?s drawn and sabers waving in the air, looking for any reason to kill someone.

Captain Black stood on the deck with Sam and watched his men take quick control of the ship. He put his arm on the lad, ?Looks like they?re ready for us, Sam.? With that being said, Captain James Black crossed between the two ships and stared into the frightened eyes of the passengers and crew of the Valiant Duck.

?I?m Captain James Blood Bath Black?? he announced in a voice that was deep and commanding, ??and you and all your possession are now mine. Whether or not any of you live depends upon your actions. Who is the captain here??

Sam was Captain Black's shadow; face impassive as the captive ships crew assembled, and the passengers lined up behind. There was hardly a look spared for them; their fate was well, not in Sams hands, not even a mild whiff of concern, even.

Sam had a few possessions that were prized above others. A few leather bound books, and the pair of pistols. The walnut stocks were lovingly polished, nary a scratch to mar the glossy sheen on them. One was tucked into the the cinched in waist of Sam's trousers, the other held in an unshaking hand.

There'd be no bloodshed, no firing until the Captain gave the signal. Sam had, in the past, been the one to shoot a crewmember who had jumped the gun (so to speak) and had stepped out of turn, going for a pretty, plump lass with lips like ripe cherries. Alas, he was in no condition anymore, to try to impress the ladies. And the pistol was a fair warn, too, for one young sailor who had puffed himself up like a cockrel trying to crow the first time; and Sam very nearly sighed with boredom.

THAT kind of posturing meant one thing. There was a woman aboard, and like as not a young, pretty one. It meant it could end up being one of THOSE little escapades.

The warm, familar weight of the arm that rested around Sam's shoulders brought back memory, sharp as if it were all happening that very moment. The night before, and the evening had gone as many others had. Dinner, which had been served, eaten then cleared up in near silence. The chink of china, of silver and fine crystal. The Captains meal was prepared and served by Sam, exactly as it had been for the past eight years.

Linen napkins, damask tablecothes, beeswax candles. Fine white bread, a roast fowl, deep, sweet red whine. Yes, Captain James Black lived up to the image that he was a cut above the average ruffian seadog. More than a few cuts above the rabble that made up the majority of his crew. They knew it, he knew it. And it was a fair and acceptable tradeoff. They fulfilled the bloodthirsty, murderous rabble description while James Black was imposing, dignified. Far more ruthless than most of his crew could begin to imagine.

Sam was quiet as the remainder of the meal was cleared away, and a snifter of cognac poured and set in front of him next to the log book, quill and bottle of ink. All of it silent, sensitive as ever to his mood.

Evenings there were always the small and homely tasks to tend to. The pistols and shot to be looked to for the next day, boots to be polished to the high gleam that custom and the Captains reputation demanded, clothes to be mended -Sam had long since progressed beyond mere mending of sails. There was a rip along one sleeve of the heavy coat with the silver filigree lace and buttons, and it was a frighteningly domestic scene as she settled and bent her head and started to sew. She could remember seeing her mother sit so, head bent over a bit of fine lawn, the silks bright in her fingers, drawn by the shining needle and coaxed into fanciful shapes. Birds, trees, ships sailing on curling blue and silvery waves.

The sea had been part and parcel of her life since her first memory. And Captain James Black had been a figure of legend to her in those first years. Her father had been his first mate and his friend. This in the days when they had been far from the scourge of the sea. Small fish in the eyes of the Crown, not more than smugglers at the onset. Or so Gavin White had insisted to his wife, who was the daughter of a minor shopkeep who aspired to the silks, wigs and fine homes of a lady, and along the stretch of coast that they lived, smuggling was well nigh an honorable practice. Or at least one accepted with a wink and a nod.

Samantha had been all of 7 years old when her father first whispered that he'd found a way to make the fortune his wife so craved. Over the years they had branched out well beyond minor smuggling. Piracy was a much more lucrative. Until they were caught. Or rather Gavin was caught; and in order to save his own neck he sold his friend and captain to the Kings men.

Or would have. MaryRose had been honestly and truly apalled at the betrayal had gone to find and tell James, mere hours before the kings soldiers had closed in on him.

Gavin had found out, and Sam remembered the screaming rage, her mothers voice rising to a shriek before the shot rang out and she slumped, the smell of gunpowder a tang in the back of her throat as she stood and stared. Gavin had turned and snarled at her - his only child - the pistol coming up again. Useless, its shot expended, but it was enough to frighten her out of her terrified paralysis.

She'd shrieked and turned to run- run right into James Black, who had come in just as the shot had sounded.

She never remembered the words her father and the Captain had exchanged. She remembered though, being taken to a dockside inn, being dressed in breeches and a rough cotton shirt, her hair shorn to just above her shoulders and drawn back into a tail. "You're Sam now," James had got down to look her in the eye. "Sam Whitley and you're my cabin boy. A lad. You need to always keep that here," he'd tapped her forehead. "Right lad?" and he'd given an approving nod and a smile when she'd nodded.


That had been nearly nine years before. Sam had learned his lesson well. No one knew that she was not Sam Whiting, the lad that Captain Black had 'won' in a game of chance and brought back to his ship minutes before they had slipped free of the wharf, never again to haunt the coasts of Cornwall again.

"Sam, take their valuables," The captains voice jarred her out of memory and she nodded, slipping free of his hold just as he went to stalk in front of their 'guests'. Sam stooped and collected the erstwhile captain's hat and used that to hold the small goods that the passengers stripped off. Rings, silver snuff-boxes, bracelets, pocket watches, watch chains, neck chains. And then paused, a heartbeat behind Captain Black as he paused in front of the Lady.

Attack Upon the Valiant Duck - Part 2

(from an rp posted with permission of all those involved)

There was, perhaps not surprisingly, a collective shriek from the booty in question. Not all of the women were beautiful. Not all of them were young. However there was no lack of IMMEDIATE volunteers. Although they weren?t all young or pretty, they were undoubtedly female and with all the required body parts. Many members of Captain Black?s crew stepped forward to show their earnest and true liking for the idea.

"Good, we have volunteers! And who wants the men?" he shouted out to his crew. There were a few volunteers then, too; and that made the men blanch, although they were many of them in the midst of making bargains.

Miss Valentine had unpardonably been left in possession of her elegant, silk parasol. And the first sailor that laid his hand on so much as the hem of her dress was going to feel its business end hit him hard and fast. She had laid low a number of stage-struck Gianni's in her time, and knew where a man was most sensitive. To... instruction

Whiskey Jack was about to take Miss Valentine for his own, but Captain Black gave him a sideways nod of the head, signaling him to go after another. Then, before Miss Valentine could move, James had his arm around her waist and his hand upon the arm that held the parasol. "You, Miss Valentine, are mine," he said with a wink.

That was enough for 99.9% of the crew who made do with the rest, and made bargains for ?later?. They all had duties, and the sooner they attended to them the sooner they'd be able to enjoy the spoils and plunder ? or, perhaps more accurately, plunder the spoils.

Miss Valentine was not a member of the crew, and she thought it prudent to protest. She struggled like a wildcat in his grip. "Vigglicao!" she snapped, and raked him across the face with the nails of her free hand. "Coward! I am not belonging to any pirate." Bold words, but she had a sinking feeling they were only bravado

Captain Black drew his face back out of reach, blood coming down his cheek in three parallel stripes. The fire in his eyes left it clear that she had managed to anger him. He ripped the parasol out of her hand and looked as though he was about to take instant revenge, but hesitated, and instead of painful revenge he pulled her tighter against his chest. "I don't think you want to do that again, Miss Valentine! You see, Sam doesn't like to see his Captain get hurt, right Sam?"

Sam took a half step forward and collected the parasol, then turned and made a sharp gesture for the others to get about their business. He then turned back to rake the woman with a flat look. "Aye sir, an' I'm the mild mannered one ye'll be dealing with, Miss."

At that moment Governor came on deck with a jewelry box. "Captain, I have a little surprise for you. Look at what we found! It was in the room with a lot of fancy dresses and enough perfume for all of Paris!"

James smiled. "Good work Governor." He turned his bloodied face back to Miss Valentine. "Would that be yours, missy?"

She answered with a raging shriek and some Italian oath that, although incomprehensible to the majority, sounded unlike anything a gently bred lady should utter. She flung herself at the jewelry box and Governor, with the ferocity of a rabid kitten. "Give me that, you ... dog!"

Sam stepped quickly, bringing the woman down in a tackle. "Was yours, miss. Your forfeit."

Captain Black threw his head back in laughter. "Sam, I believe we discovered her weak spot. No different than a man - it's her jewels!" He laughed more and looked at Sam, "Good man. Take it from her."

Miss Valentine spat and struggled, but was inelegantly pinned to the salt-washed deck beneath Sam's slender, steely person. Sam had the sheer advantage of muscle, developed over years of lifting, hauling, heaving and being an errand boy. The case was plucked away and Sam stood, letting the girl do so as she would or no. "It should provide some recompense for the injury, Captain."

"Thank you, Sam. I can always count on you to keep the ladies from getting away." He reached out a hand to help Miss Valentine up off the deck.

Miss Valentine was hampered by fashion. A corset did not allow much flexibility of motion, especially not when a lady was trying to get up off her hands and knees. She had, perforce, to accept his hand. She knew from the screams and weeping of the other women, her fellow passengers, she ought to be afraid. Now they would take her pearls and anything else they chose. She ought to be afraid, but anger was safer and much, much stronger.

The strength of James Black made the helping of the lady off the deck an effortless motion. "Now, Miss Valentine, the games are over. Is that man who's swinging in the breeze your husband?"

"Bah, no," she said. "So you can not think to please me by making me a widow."

He looked over at the Valliant?s captain who was still screaming to be let down. "Oh. Well, in that case we don't need him." James looked to Pip who wasn't doing anything but watching a woman be raped. "Pip. Cut the ropes." A few seconds later the captain was splashing in the water. "Okay, that takes care of that little detail. To be truthful, Miss Valentine, I would not have believed a woman like you could love a man like that."

Miss Valentine felt a twinge, but only that. The captain was better off than he knew. He might, if he was clever, swim to some safety. He might survive. His passengers were not all so lucky. "And now that you have laughed, you will kill me, too, yes?" she said. "Blood Bath the Pirate never leaves survivors, they say."

(rp log- posted with permission of all involved)



As soon as they were alone in the pirate ship's narrow hallway, Miss Giulietta Valentine turned a speculative glance on her handsome, young (and hopefully impressionable) jailer. And she gave him a melting, trembling smile. "Prego, Signore," she said. "You must to help me. I can tell, you're not like the others." He knew what a bath was, for one thing. Evidently some of the Captain's habits had rubbed off on the young lad who seemed closest to him.

Sam simply stared a moment, then shook his head, giving Miss Valentine a little nudge, not a shove, but a nudge, and reached past to push the door open.

"Please!" whispered Miss Valentine. "I know you have a pistol, and I'll give you anything if you will let me have it to defend myself. Even..." she hesitated. "My pearls!"

"And tell the Captain what?" There was a hint of amusement in the curl of that lip. "That you overpowered me? And that you managed to find your way to the deck, dive overboard and swim to your ship without being spotted? Or eaten," by shark, by crew...

"You mustn't fear your captain!" Miss Valentine said, her high, young bosom heaving impressively with the force of her emotion. Granted, Sam didn't look at all frightened, but she was improvising along a line that had never yet failed in her career at moving even hardened hearts to chivalry. "You do not need to stay where he can harm you. You can leave this life most sordid all behind you, and come with me!"

"Fear?" Sam actually let loose a soft bark of laughter as Valentine was pushed inside the open door. "I do not fear. Nor do I think that you can," Sam paused and actually grinned. "Protect me. Tell me, madam, how do you propose to get past the crew of the Sea Wolf? They would pounce on you like hungry cats on a mouse."

Truthfully, she hadn't thought of them. There hadn?t been time to consider finer details. She had only an instant ago been dragged on board the pirate?s vessel. Yes, it stood to reason it was manned by pirates. They were animals, of no significance... but even a pack of angry dogs would serve to prevent her from leaving. "But who will protect me?" she said. "You cannot know what it is like, to be a woman, trapped alone with all these strong men... I turn to you... and you will not help me?" She called perfect, diamond-bright tears to her eyes and let them fall entrancingly down her flushed cheeks. This had worked before, on other, impressionable young man. She could only hope the young Sam Whitley did not have a heart of stone

Her hopes seemed likely to be dashed. He looked singularly unmoved. By the tears, the heaving bosoms, all of it. "So you want me to forfeit my life- and you cannot know, maybe I like it here - so that you can go and tread the boards, tease fools into drooling after you," he crossed his arms and leaned against the door. "After hurting my captain." The last was softer.

The blue eyes widened in honest, outraged incredulity. "Your captain is..." she choked on the next word and in the face of that obvious unwavering loyalty, decided to change her tactic. "He frightens me. Blood Bath Black? He would frighten anyone caught in his power. I thought he would treat me as the other sailors treated the women on the Valiant Duck." She sidled closer to young Sam, as if proximity would help make her seem more attractive, or more helpless. "You alone, I saw, did not take part in the debauchery."

"Nor did he." Sam?s eyes were about as emotion laden as two brown pebbles. "And you shrieked insults like some dockside fishwife," he straightened to his full height. Not terribly tall, but he topped her by several inches yet. "Or is it, madam, that you wanted to be treated like the others," his brows shot up. "I could go and fetch Whiskey Jack for you, or the Governor." He made a move, just a small one, as if to turn and do that.

She lunged for him with a gasp of pure, unfeigned fright. "Dio no!" she said. "Do not do it!"

He pushed her away with a faint moue of distaste. "There are wiser ways to win your freedom, madam."

"Then tell me what they are, you... pirata!" she asked, caught between fear and her own damnable temper. "I have not as much experience as you in the matter. What am I to do?"

"Stop trying to claw faces off," he said cooly. "Or do you like to draw attention to yourself so to show off the fine spirit that will make men wonder. It is a dangerous game you play. You have your pearls. The jewels in the cask," then he shrugged. "I would assume you have money, somewhere. Ransom, mam'selle."

"Ransom!" she breathed the word as if it had never occurred to her. "Naturelmente! I am a fool not to have thought it!" Sam?s smile suggested that yes, she was indeed that. Giulietta had no time for his insults now. Her dainty foot stamped impatiently. "I require pen, ink, paper! How can I send word if you will keep me talking all this time staring at your handsome face?"

Sam gave a soft snort, clearly not touched by the compliment, backhanded as it may be. "There is paper in the writing desk," he pointed. "quill and ink, too." Giulietta gave the room into which she?d been thrust a cursory glance. It had clearly been used at times, as a study. And those (rare) times they parlayed with other captains, other reivers. Sam said: "Your dinner will be brought once I have tended to my Captain?s injuries and seen to his comfort." Sam pushed away from the door and gave a curt nod. "Mams'elle"

Giulietta waved dinner away as an inconsequentiality, which it seemed it would be if she was forced to eat pirate swill. "I cannot thank you enough, Signore... Although it is a pity..." The sentence trailed away as the actress determined it was better left unsaid. Miss Valentine shrugged one perfect shoulder. Never in her life had an attempt at seduction gone so far awry, but the end result could not but please. She had a plan to free herself. Ransom indeed!

"Right," there was a wry twist to his lips, and Sam bowed, a rather overdone flourish, too, then let himself out. The sound of the bolt sliding home was loud in the small room.

Sam gave little thought to it then, going to assemble the things needed to tend to the Captains injuries.

James was in no mood for counting and dividing the plunder. Blood was now drying upon his face, and his thigh still felt Miss Valentine?s attempt at making him a celibate for a week or two. He rested his elbows upon his desk and his head upon his hands that were cupped around his forehead, hiding his eyes and face from anyone?s view. Sam would soon return, and he was looking forward to that. She had a way about her that was able to minister to his mood, no matter what mood that was.

She has been with him since she was eight years old, always there for him, never complaining, and always ready to serve him. The thing that amazed him the most was that she had an innate ability to always know just what to do or say.

He remembered the first time she had asked to satisfy his physical needs instead of having some whore or kidnapped woman fulfill the roll that was meant for the ?cabin boy.? She was only thirteen, and he refused her.

She was not to be easily discouraged from performing any duty for him that she knew was her responsibility. Every month or so she would bring the topic up again, and each time he would tell her that his pleasure was not a part of her responsibilities.

Then came the night a month or two before her fifteenth birthday. She had been drinking a little and he had been drinking a lot. She caught him at a weak moment. He was drunk and wanted a woman, and she stood before him and slowly stripped herself of her clothes and stood naked before him. When she removed the bands of cloth that bound her breasts to her body, he saw her ? really saw her ? as the woman she had gown to be and spent most of every day hiding.

She came upon his bed and kissed him. Her lips were soft and delicious. His hands slowly moved to her body and touched her. He had never felt such soft flesh upon firm muscle. Her body was the most sensuous, desirable body that he ever had against him. He had been slow and tender with her, and the feelings she gave him that night were indescribable.

He has had many women before and after that, and all but very few were absolutely forgetful; but that first night with Sam he?d never forget, and from that moment on she was far more to him than just a ?cabin boy.?

Some day he might have to tell her that.

(result of rp, posted with permission)

Captain James Black sat at his desk in his stateroom, some of the plunder was set before him on the large table that was usually covered in maps. Other plunder sat in crates on the floor, waiting for someone to sort it all out. His head was down, resting on his hands that were cupped over his forehead. His cheek had dried blood in three parallel streaks, and he was tired, wishing that the work would just go away.

Sam Whitley gave a tap at the door before stepping in. She always did, whether he was alone or not, so deeply steeped in propriety that no matter what, she did as always. "I have things to dress those scratches. It's no telling what can happen, like a cats claws, they are."

He slowly looked up at Sam, his cabin boy, about the only constant in his life, for which he was very appreciative, and more than a little fond. "Aye, she got me good. Didn't expect that from th' wench."

"Expect that from every wench," she gave a quiet snort and kicked the door shut then crossed to the desk, setting the basket down on the edge of it and busying herself with taking things out. A cloth, a small stoneware bottle and a flask of water.

"You're right about that, Sam. She's got a lot of spunk, that one. She's a cat that needs a bit of declawing an' housebreaking!" He grinned and watched as Sam went to work. If he had a farthing for every time Sam had attended to one of his wounds, he'd be likely to retire. "You're not gonna be hurtin' me, are ya Sam?" he asked teasingly.

"Only if you try pinching me when I'm doing this," she grinned fleetingly and poured the water- hot, still - into a bowl and dabbed the cloth in it, starting to clean the dried and crusted blood away.

He winced at the first touch. "Pinch ye I might, Sam. You know how I just can't help myself with you." He tried to grin, but the cloth to his wounds gave enough of a sting to allow any grin from remaining too long.

"Deepern' I thought," she said with a little grunt, dipping the cloth again. "She tried to flutter her lashes at me," there was a note of amusement in her voice. "Asked me to help her escape."

"Ah, she did now?" This time James really had to laugh. "So tell me, Sam, were you beguiled by her beauty? Did ye have your eyes set upon those ruby lips?" He put and arm around Sam and squeezed her close to him. "Did her charms get ye to break down with promises of escape?" He loved teasing her, she knew when he was serious and when he was teasing her (which was most of the time), and that gave him a freedom to be himself with her.

"Though I did tell her where the ink and quills were. So she could write up her ransom demand," she snorted softly, relaxing a little, enough to lean against him.

"Oh, ye did, did ye? A ransom for the actress! Excellent idea, Sam. You keep this up and one of these days I'm going to have to give you a special position on the SeaWolf!" He laughed and pulled her down into a sitting position on his lap. "So, did she fall for it. Is she writing her ransom note that will bring up more treasure than a score of Valiant Ducks?"

"I think so, she shooed me out," and she imitated the actress; 'how can I write when I am looking upon your face!' She flipped one hand then let the cloth drop to the floor. "I have the position I want on the SeaWolf." And she was content with her place too, most of the time.

James loved the way Sam imitated the actress. "You be quite the actress yourself, Sam! You did that so well I thought surely that I had Miss Valentine on my lap." He laughed and tickled her. "How's my face? Do you still find me handsome?"

She laughed at that, squirming away from the tickling. It was the only time she sounded girlish, when laughing like that. "You know I do. I always have."

He stopped tickling her and just rested his right hand on her leg and left hand on her shoulder. He looked upon her sideways, then took off her cap and ran his fingers through her hair. "You'd look mighty fine in hair as long as a lady's should be, Sam." His hand running though her hair, then a finger moving down her cheek. "I'm a lucky man."

"I'm no lady," it was the standard answer to that observation, but she was smiling a little as she brushed her fingers over the scratches. "And luck, y've always made yer own luck."

He continued to play with her hair. "True, Sam. I've made a share of my own luck. But there is some luck that happens for which there is no explanation." He leaned into her touch upon his cheek. "That's what ye are to me, Sam. I don't deserve ye and ne'er will."

"Ye have me because ye taught me. There's no luck to't."

He laughed, "There's no winnin' an argument wi' you, Sam. It's proof that ye have become a woman!"

"Is that what it is? An' here I thought it was when I had to start binding myself, " she teased with a roughish grin.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "You've got a point there, Sam. It seems that breasts and winning arguments sort of come hand-in hand. It's a mystery to men - something we'll never understand." He pulled her against him and gave her a soft kiss upon her lips. After a short time in which no words were spoken, he added, "So, what do you think we should do with our fine actress next door? Is she worth our trouble?"

"She's got the will, for certain," she nodded. "But does she have the discipline? Did ye mean what was said? Keeping her on??

?I don't know, Sam. I woman like that has the affinity for being nothing but trouble. If she got rid of those fancy clothes and that uppity attitude, we might be able to make 'er into something useful. Otherwise, I think we take the ransom and set her adrift!"

"And leave these waters," she urged with a frown. "People are lookin? to hang you, remember?"

He cupped her face in his left hand, his eyes wandering appreciatively over her face. "Always worried about me. I suppose that I need someone to worry about me cuz I'm too much of a damn fool to be doing it myself."

"Too much trouble," she said gruffly, laying her palm over the scratches. "Let me do that for you."

His dark, sparkling eyes looked into hers. "Okay, Sam. I'll leave that for you." He gave her a look that said, Stay in my bed tonight. He then gave her a wink and big smile. "I suppose we should be tellin' Frypan to get some dinner in here. We don't want to be starving our guest! At least not before we get the ransom!"

"Hardtack and soup," she snorted softly. And they did NOT eat like that, unless it had been a very poor season. The lingering look, the gentle stroke of her fingers against his cheek was the answer. She'd never learned the soft, fine words or ladylike ways.

"Hardtack and soup? Arr...my Sam is a hard-hearted lady," he said with a laugh. "Remind me t' ne'er get on yer bad side." He took her hand in his and kissed it, having picked up in her look the response to his question.

"She has a low opinion of us in the first place, why not just.. not disappoint?"

He took her face between his hands and kissed her lips. "Because, my dear Sam, I'll be eating this meal with her. But, I'll tell yer what. After tonight, you can give her hardtack and soup for a week. That ought to put some discipline in 'er!"

"In here, or should I get things ready there?" she didn't miss a beat.

"In here, please. I don't want all the crew ogling 'er an' forgettin' about their work."

"'Cept Frypan," she chuckled and nodded.

He laughed, "Well, maybe she'll inspire Frypan to be creative." He gave Sam a pat on the backside, indicating it was time to get up and get going. "I'll move the plunder under the bed. If you would get Frypan going on the meal and then bring Miss Valentine in here, I'd be thankful and make it up to you later." At that he gave her a knowing wink, for their times of lovemaking had grown to be quite intense and extremely pleasurable for the both of them.

"Making it up to me," she snorted, teasing as she got up ? but only after she took it in turn to kiss him. "Soon I?ll be spoiled, near bad as the actress."

Captain James Black laughed and tossed a bag of coins at her. "There's yer share. Now get goin' before I decide to spank you right now an' we'll all be missin' dinner!"

"And it'll cause talk indeed," she gave him a saucy grin, tucking the pouch into the wide sash-like belt. "There's stuff for your face,? she pointed at the jar. "I'll tell Frypan to do something surprisin'?

Sam left the stateroom and Captain Black immediately started to get the room prepared for a dinner with Miss. Valentine.

The Captain and the Lady - Part 1

(from rp of Giulietta Valentine and Captain James Black, posted with permission of both players)

The sun was nearly setting when Captain James Black heard a knock on his cabin door. He had, with the help of Sam and Frypan, got his quarters in fine shape. There was a tablecloth over his chart table, two lit candles in their silver candlesticks upon the table, and a setting for two people with real porcelain plates and fine silverware. He didn't want to appear to be uncouth to this fine looking actress. The bed, situated against the starboard wall, was made and covered with a heavy quilt. The room was lit by several oil lamps and given an even softer atmosphere by the glow of the sunset coming though the stern windows. He gave his hair a last comb through, and stood by the table. "You may enter," he said with a voice of authority.

When the door was opened for her, Miss Valentine made her entrance with more dignity than her appearance should have warranted. Her lovely chin was lifted high on her long, pale neck, and there was nothing to indicate that she was in any way intimidated by the elegance of the room, or by Captain Black?s superb grooming. She simply gave Governor (who had been her involuntary and most unwelcome escort) a polite and sweeping curtsey and dismissed him. "You may go."

Captain Black smiled and nodded thanks to Governor for escorting Lady Valentine to his quarters, indicating that he might indeed go. Governor departed and closed the door behind him.

"Lady Valentine, what a pleasure and honor to have you as my guest for dinner." James stepped forward, took her hand and placed a light kiss upon the back of that hand. "You look absolutely lovely this night. The sunset pales against thy beauty."

"Capitano Black," she replied, and the curtsey she gave him was somewhat deeper than that she'd used to shoo away Governor. This was the game: he was pretending to be a gentleman, and she would be not a lady but a gracious queen. "You are too kind."

He did enjoy the way she moved right into the role of someone of far greater status than 'prisoner'. He held out his arm for her to take. "Please, allow me to show you around my humble quarters before we begin our dinner."

Her fingertips touched the edge of his sleeve lightly. A token, rather than any need for support. She had found her sea legs almost on the instant the Duck had left land, and Giulietta would not lose them because some pirato made her knees knock together. She could pretend it would take more than a glance to view the whole of the room, if he could. "I hate to put you to any trouble, Capitano."

"Ah, no trouble at all, it should take all of thirty seconds!" he said with a grin, fully understanding the comedy of the tour. "This table that we shall be eating on is normally my chart table. Usually chart are piled ten deep on it, but they make a poor tablecloth. In that wall over (he pointed to cubicles in the wall on the port side) there are rolled charts that describe all the known world." He walked her around the room clockwise. "Over here is my bed, as you can see."

"Indeed?" she inclined her head politely, her face averted from the bed just enough to indicate fatal disinterest. "Ch? uso efficiente di spazio."

"Yes, we must use our space well." He continued the clockwise walk to the large expanse of windows at the ship's stern. Several were open and allowed fresh air into the room." In front of the windows was a long padded bench. Here we have a place to sit and be comfortable." Continuing around the room, "My wardrobe is in this closet?? he pointed to it, ??and now it seems that we have completed the extensive tour."

"Perhaps, mio Capitano, you ought to take advantage of the comfortable seat by the window, no? You have had such an exhausting day."

"Aye, you are correct, it was quite draining." The three parallel scratches upon his face were quite evident. "But let's dine first." He pulled out her chair. "My lady...." With a wave of his hand he indicated that she should sit for dinner.

Giulietta had to admit that for a pirate, he had a masterful command of formal etiquette. She allowed herself to be seated in the high-backed chair he had drawn for her, and waited politely for him to take the table's only other. "Grazzi," she murmured.

When she was to the table he went to his own chair and settled in. Sitting before them were thin slices of various cheeses, with greens for garnish. It was not what Giulietta expected as typical piratical fare. She had guessed at anything from watery gruel to raw meat on the bone.

He took the bottle of wine and poured each of their glasses. "It's fine French Bordeaux...stolen from a fine French merchant ship."

"Naturelmente," she replied. "So, then you do not only steal from the English?"

He handed her one glass and took the other. ?Oh no, we'll steal from anyone." He did not tell her that every French ship in the fleet was now looking for him to capture back King Louis XIV?s pride and joy. James winked and held out his glass. "To my most lovely guest; and to a very lovely evening."

"Salute," her reply was deliberately brief. She was still being the cold society damsel, after all, and not at all about to be charmed by smooth manners or a winning smile.

He sipped the wine. "Ahhh...I always say that if you're going to kill for wine, you might as well kill the French. Don't you agree?"

At that, she lost her patience, and the glass was set down on the table with a tad more force than necessary. "Come potete vantarsi dell'omicidio?" she demanded under her breath. Rather louder, she said: "You will forgive me if I do not find much to laugh at in such a subject."

(to be continued. . .)

The Captain and the Lady - Part 3

(from rp of Giulietta Valentine and Captain James Black, posted with permission of both players)


James was beginning to become angry. "Now you have gone and added insult to my injuries, and you attempt to ruin this wonderful dinner with your false accusations. I am truly hurt." He set down his fork. "If a fine duck meal and French wine is my revenge upon you, than so be it. I've had my most wicked revenge!" He suddenly stood up. "If this revenge is so unpleasant and you?d rather feel the lashes of whips, then we can end it right now and I'll have Governor escort you to your room." He took his glass of wine and sat by the windows, look out upon the setting sun.

"Siete ridiculoso," she replied, rising to her feet as well, and not sure whether she was more angry or afraid. "Potreste guidare una donna sensata pazza!"

"Speak English!" he shouted back. He was beginning to actually lose his patience with this woman. Perhaps Sam was right and they should just get rid of her.

"Are all pirates so thin-skinned?" she demanded. "You pout like a baby when I ask you a question! Do you honestly say I am mad to mistrust you, after what I have seen?" Anger won out and she closed the distance between them. "I say to tell me what you want, if not ransom. I am sick to death of pirates, I am sick of murder and fear. I am sick of your riddles, and most of all, I am sick of you!" And then, to her horror, she burst into tears.

He slowly turned to her and raised his brow. There she was, crying in front of him. He sighed, put down his wine glass, and stood up. "Come here." He reached out to her and at considerable risk to his physical health, he took her into his arms. His voice was soft; "I know this has not been an easy day for you."

She did not stab or strangle him. Indeed, the carving knife for the duck remained safely on the table. Instead, she pushed as ineffectively at his broad chest as she had earlier that day. "Oh, go away," she told him, wiping at her eyes. "I am sick of you being always the strong man. It drives me mad."

He actually let her go, and he was sure that would surprise her. "Come, sit with me and I'll tell you something."

She was a woman that even tears could not spoil. She sat with a flounce of embroidered skirts and her face was only softly flushed, without blotches. The last tears hung on her lashes like jewels. "Naturelmente, you will tell me something," she said. ?But if you dare say another word about my beauty, I will scream.?

Captain Black stared into her blues with his eyes of back. ?So, you have asked if you?re mad to mistrust me after all that you have seen. Well, let me ask you; what have you seen? I?ll tell you what you have seen,? he continued to speak as he stood up and went to fetch her glass of wine.

?You?ve seen me discipline a cowardly, thieving, fool of a captain who deliberately put you, the other passengers, and his crew in harm?s way just to try to save his own pitiful skin. I have no idea how in God?s heavens a woman like you would be mixed up with an ass like him, but that?s beside the point.? He refreshed her wine glass and brought it over to her and handed her the glass.

?What else have you seen? Let?s see. You?ve seen me take a bunch of pompous asses who think their station in society gives them the right to put down actresses and sailors and anyone else they should target with their snobbery, and teach them a lesson in humility that they will never forget. You?ve seen me take thirty to forty sailors who were being cheated and mistreated on the Valiant Duck and offer them a chance of more money and adventure then they could have ever imagined.

?Furthermore, Miss Giulietta Valentine, you have seen me protect your stubborn body and your valuables from the hands of both crews. What do you think would have happened to you if I left you on board the Valiant Duck as the only woman who was not raped and who was still in possession of things of value? I?ll tell you what would have happened. They would have taken out their anger, frustration, and humiliation on you; and by this time, if you were still living and not bobbing around in the ocean for shark bait, you would have been stripped of anything of value to you, including whatever chastity or modesty you may possess. THAT is what you have seen, Miss Valentine; and if that had made you mad and mistrustful of me, then so be it!?

He walked to the door and opened it. ?Since my company is such a threat to you, you may go back to your room. And you can take your wine with you. It?s the last you will have until that ransom note you?re so quick to write produces your desired result!?

(To be continued. . . )

The Captain and the Lady - Part 5

(from rp of Giulietta Valentine and Captain James Black, posted with permission of both players)

He might call her by her name, but Giulietta was not certain she wanted him to take her by the hand. Only the surety he'd think her a coward for hesitating made her lay her palm in his. Gloves, she thought obscurely as she felt the dry heat of his palm. All my gloves are gone as well. "Naturalmente, I am all anxiety to see this magnificent sight."

There was no doubt in his mind that she was not the common type of woman that he was used to, and that pleased him. She had spunk and was as stubborn as they come. He took her hand and led her all the way to the stern of the SeaWolf. They were directly against the rail, looking out over the ocean in the direction from whence they had come. "Look there in the wake." He put one hand on her back near her far shoulder, and pointed with his other hand. "Look at the green glow in the water. Do you see it?"

She looked, and nodded. The wind was blowing her tumbled hair and she felt that if she had to look like a fished up mermaid, she might as well celebrate the moment. The glow was lovely, ghostly, surreal. "Si," she said. "Is that where you are going to try and drown me?"

"Oh, no...not there," he laughed. "It's not deep enough." He looked down upon her and admired the way her raven hair was blowing in the breeze. "That green glow is life. It's the natural fluorescence of algae. The algae glows when the water is stirred up by the ship."

"It is very pretty, yes," she admitted as though she?d seen a thousand such dreamlike visions. "How far back does it go?"

"Good question. It actually goes back for several miles. It's a way you can track the passage of other ships in the night. They actually leave a trail that can be read." He kept his arm upon her shoulder, enjoying her warmth.

She pretended not to notice, glad only that his light grip was not on the torn sleeve where she might have to feel his palm against her skin. That would have been far too unsettling for too many reasons she preferred not to analyze while she was still wholly in his power. She kept her tone light, casual. "And so if someone were hunting the SeaWolf, for instance, they would only have to follow your trail to capture a very famous pirate."

"Exactly! You do learn fast." He looked down upon her silhouette. "I think you would make a most excellent pirate. One who would not be afraid of anything - fearless and fearsome."

As he was talking Frypan came up on the quarterdeck carrying a tray. "Captain...some desserts for you and the misses."

"Thank you, Frypan." On the tray were chocolate candies, filled with a raspberry fruit and brandy. Also on the tray were two snifters and a bottle of French brandy.

The misses was laughing. Not some stifled society titter, but freely and with real amusement. "Una pirata?" she said. "Me? It is nonsensical."

Frypan set down the tray, lit several lanterns and dismissed himself to go back down below. James smiled as she laughed at his notion. "I do not jest, my lady. You would strike fear in any man! No one would dare touch the great pirate, Valentine!"

"Si, and neither would this great lady-pirate touch a man, Capitano," she replied. "I am no killer, me."

"Ah, but you don't understand. You don't have to kill. You just have to make people think you do." He reached for the tray. "Try one of Frypan's chocolates. You will love them!"

Delicately, she picked up one of the chocolates, and took a dainty bite. "Squisito," she agreed. "And yet are they enough to turn me into una pirata? I am doubtful. You do not mean to tell me that you have not killed, Capitano. You forget I have heard much about you."

He poured the brandy into the two snifters and handed one to Miss Valentine after she had finished the chocolate. He also took his snifter in his hand. "Unfortunately, I have indeed killed many men - from the time I was in the French navy and until now. On the other hand, I have not killed quite as many as is suddenly being credited to me. There is someone else to whom that credit is owed." He thought of JD Black and the dance they had together in the inn. Just the thought of her made his heart rate increase with desire. Now there was a woman he?d truly love to bed. He then turned his thoughts back to Miss Valentine, held up his glass and winked. He sipped his brandy.

"Well, if your reputation has been exaggerated, I am afraid that the tale of the survivors of the Valiant Duck will only add still more weight to the cries. They are bound to make my opinion of your day's work seem like a romantic aria by comparison."

(To be continued. . .)

Captain Black was clearly frustrated by his "guest." He needed some sanity. He needed his cabin boy, Sam. Sam always knew what to do. She always knew how to cheer him and comfort him.

He left his cabin and went topside to give orders. They had pirate ships to extract a severe revenge upon. They would be a Ghost Ship once again, a ploy that never failed to get his competition off the seas.

He looked up to the crows next and called up for Sam to come down.

Looking off to starboard side he could see dark clouds approaching. Soon the wind would pick up and the ocean would get nasty...very nasty.

"Sam! Get down here....now!"

Captain Black was about to point a finger at Sam and let loose the full weight of his frustration, when the look in Sam?s eyes and her absolute resolve to please him broke him of his anger and reduced him to something that resembled a normal man ? as least as close to normal as a pirate captain such as Captain Black could become.

?You?re a good man, Sam,? he said with his hand upon the ?lad?s? shoulder. ?What would I do without you?? He gave Sam a wink that was reserved just for her.

?Two points to port!? he called out to the First Mate. ?We?re gonna intercept ?er ship and scare ?er crew ?til their too frightened to stand!?

?Aye, Captain! Two points to port!? were the words called back to him.

The breeze was beginning to blow harder, and Captain Black estimated that it would only be an hour or two before they were in the midst of the turmoil. He put his arm around Sam?s shoulders, ?We have some left over food and wine down in my cabin. Why don?t you help me finish it off? Hate to see good food and wine go to waste.? What was unspoken was that he really wanted to be with Sam this eve. He needed her.