The adrenalin rush was slow to work its way from Jax’s fighting instincts even as the soldiers stood with muskets aimed. Sweat dripped in his eyes and his breath was fast and shallow. He noted quickly that more men he knew were on their feet and ones he did not were spread across the now cluttered floor. His crew had won of that he was sure. Even more so when he turned to see the face of his Captain.
It was time to go. Through the chaos of the fight Jax remember he heard the command that he was to guard the rum. As the men struggled to their feet, the ones that could, Jax reached for a surprisingly full bottle of rum. He was going to need that. Tucking that one in under his arm he reached for another only to realize the fresh blood and unworking of his own hand. Something was wrong. He sort of remembered striking someone backhanded and hearing an unhealthy snap. It wasn’t him was it? Jax looked at his hand a little more carefully. His one finger, the one beside his little one, was bent wrong and there under the joint he could see his bone.
Jax struggled to hold the other bottle of rum and he poured it over his hand keeping his teeth clamped tight to stifle his own cries of pain. He mumbled the anguish trying hard to hide it. He moved closer to Thomas watching him kneel by the dead boatman. There on the bar was a only slightly used bar rag and Jax took that quickly trying to wrap it around his injured hand. He wasn’t sure he wanted the Captain to see his wound. If Jax could sneak out without his broken hand being noticed maybe he could fix it up before they sailed again. He wasn’t sure if Captain Thomas would allow him the wheel with any injury at all. Jax wanted to stay on Dusk Skate. So he circled his hand quickly with the rag and tucked it under his coat.
His eyes flashed over the crew as they began to leave the scene looking for the first mate and healer. He was sure he had to hide from her. Doctor or first mate he didn’t want either to know of his failure, of his shortcomings. Jax had coins in his pocket and he could find someone in this port to pull his finger right. Or maybe he could after he drank the bottle of rum.
To cover things he grinned to the Captain as he passed him by, “Such distractions are a lucky thing for you sir, because I was getting ready to sit down and relieve you of your coins.” He glanced to the cards spread over the floor and then back to Thomas. “Another time.” He took a few steps away only to bump into the one he was supposed to avoid.
To Doctor Beacuhamp he tipped his head as if there were some cap upon it even though there was not. He took her in first to see if she managed to avoid or dance away from the hardest of hits. His hand was tucked inside his coat. Keeping one hand hidden he lifted the edge of his coat with the other hand to show her the bottle of rum he had tucked under his arm.
He smiled and winked thinking of her earlier offer. But Jax believed she would only give him a cold hard look and spin away leaving him the night to attend to his broken hand. He tried hard to keep his smile as he began to feel each heart beat in thumping pain through his fingers.
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Whao! It was the speed and the surprise that made Jax catch his breath. She wasn’t that strong but damn if she couldn’t make her point. She had him against the door. Pushed tight for a few minutes. He didn’t even think to swing back because he was stopping himself from wrapping both arms around her and keeping her right where she pushed herself, against him. Frisky little sea witch, this one. His shocked eyes slipped quickly to lustful delight. And he smiled.
When First Mate Nicolette Beauchamp pulled back and blushed his grin widen and his eyes did not hide his pleasure in the whole thing. She spoke and for the first time he heard the sweetness of that commanding guarded tone. Ah, how the words he did not understand slip from that blushed face with an alluring sound. Jax at least had the sense to cover his enjoyment slightly. He kept his eyes on her as she offered drink. He didn’t trust himself just yet to say much of anything but his smile must have given away his enjoyment; he caught her off guard and that in his book was his first success.
Besides she offered rum. He nodded and very carefully gestured of her to enter the Inn before him. She might have taken offense to that but a voice from inside gave her little time to show it. Her Captain called. Jax knew she would answer. Of course so would he.
Once inside and adjusted to the casting light, hefty smell, and smoky hazy Jax saw the cards on the table and Captain Thomas calling for them to join him. Cards and rum? Now this was the right Inn he was sure. He found a chair almost tempted to pull the other out for the red faced first mate but he was not a fool and he knew not to press his luck. Beside he should save it, luck that is, for cards.
Just as he was sitting down, noticing the weaving nature of his admired commander - now how is it he is so nicely sauced and Jax was not? - when a few other wharf rats seemed to close in.
Then as quick as that, cards and rum dimmed and the feel of a splintered chair in his hands was brought back by the eyes of his Captain more than the words. Jax was sure he liked this man.
When the pistol fired Jax jumped up quickly and sprang onto the man that had accompanied the now faceless fool who had accused one of their crew, the Captain no less, of something dishonorable. Take that! His knuckles found the man’s face before the rat could even show surprise at the fate of his mate.
He had a piece secured on his side but Jax liked the feel of a fight, at least in a tavern. He would rather beat and punch when he could. Something about the real physical taste of fist to face and hand to gut. Jax was a bit scrappy. In close quarters like this is was a brawl he wanted not bullets.
“Get your hands dirty there Captn’.” Jax cried over the beginnings of battle noise. “Save the balls.” Jax laughed as he pushed a second man over the table beside theirs. “Yours and the bullets!” He managed to yell as he tumbled over on top of the man. He held the fools hand high over his head with a dagger clutched tight that Jax was pounding against the wood trying to release. No knives just yet. Jax had to teach these fools how to enjoy a fight. Battered faces and sore guts better than dead bodies. Save death for times needed, was Jax thought. Not that he wouldn’t slice a throat when appropriate. Still smashing a chair, a table or a face or two always felt better to Jax.
When First Mate Nicolette Beauchamp pulled back and blushed his grin widen and his eyes did not hide his pleasure in the whole thing. She spoke and for the first time he heard the sweetness of that commanding guarded tone. Ah, how the words he did not understand slip from that blushed face with an alluring sound. Jax at least had the sense to cover his enjoyment slightly. He kept his eyes on her as she offered drink. He didn’t trust himself just yet to say much of anything but his smile must have given away his enjoyment; he caught her off guard and that in his book was his first success.
Besides she offered rum. He nodded and very carefully gestured of her to enter the Inn before him. She might have taken offense to that but a voice from inside gave her little time to show it. Her Captain called. Jax knew she would answer. Of course so would he.
Once inside and adjusted to the casting light, hefty smell, and smoky hazy Jax saw the cards on the table and Captain Thomas calling for them to join him. Cards and rum? Now this was the right Inn he was sure. He found a chair almost tempted to pull the other out for the red faced first mate but he was not a fool and he knew not to press his luck. Beside he should save it, luck that is, for cards.
Just as he was sitting down, noticing the weaving nature of his admired commander - now how is it he is so nicely sauced and Jax was not? - when a few other wharf rats seemed to close in.
Then as quick as that, cards and rum dimmed and the feel of a splintered chair in his hands was brought back by the eyes of his Captain more than the words. Jax was sure he liked this man.
When the pistol fired Jax jumped up quickly and sprang onto the man that had accompanied the now faceless fool who had accused one of their crew, the Captain no less, of something dishonorable. Take that! His knuckles found the man’s face before the rat could even show surprise at the fate of his mate.
He had a piece secured on his side but Jax liked the feel of a fight, at least in a tavern. He would rather beat and punch when he could. Something about the real physical taste of fist to face and hand to gut. Jax was a bit scrappy. In close quarters like this is was a brawl he wanted not bullets.
“Get your hands dirty there Captn’.” Jax cried over the beginnings of battle noise. “Save the balls.” Jax laughed as he pushed a second man over the table beside theirs. “Yours and the bullets!” He managed to yell as he tumbled over on top of the man. He held the fools hand high over his head with a dagger clutched tight that Jax was pounding against the wood trying to release. No knives just yet. Jax had to teach these fools how to enjoy a fight. Battered faces and sore guts better than dead bodies. Save death for times needed, was Jax thought. Not that he wouldn’t slice a throat when appropriate. Still smashing a chair, a table or a face or two always felt better to Jax.
The rum was watered down, the crowd was silently slumped over their nursed brews and Jax realized pretty quickly he picked the wrong Inn. The wrench wasn’t bad, when she smiled. But after a few quick feels of her shapely curves Jax found her and the place lacking. He couldn’t really place why. He had been in uninspired hole in the walls before. Never found a reason not to just drink, watch, play and when needed extra excitement, start a fight.
Jax looked over the room again and grinned. Maybe a quick bash of some poor drunks face would liven up this crowd. Or a smashed bottle against the wall. No, don’t want to waste the stuff when a chair would be just as good. He sat and pictured the feel of the chair in his hands, the swing, the splitter of the wood as it shattered. Jax smiled.
As quick as the grin found its place on his face he jumped up yipped a yell and took hold of the very seat he was slumping on just seconds before. With hands on the back runs of island pine he took and swung the chair against the table. His hands felt the life of the tree splinter, he heard the crack of years of growth, he smelled the ages of soaked in brew and thrown up stomachs. With a wide grin he stood above the shattered chair and table. That felt much better. He tossed a coin to the stunned bar keep with a smile that no one answered or for that matter questioned. With a laugh he spun from wreckage and left the dull boring Inn.
Once out in the salt thick night air of the port Jax felt a lightness to his step and he began to whistle. It was on old dutch tune familiar to all of the northern seas. Not something he expected anyone would know in these warmer waters. But that made the notes purer to him thinking of them under these southern skies. He liked the sound in his ears.
As he strolled down the docks he saw a figure move gracefully through the streets from the land side of town. He stopped his whistle. There was purpose to the strides he watched and it didn't take Jax long to identify the height and the slight sway of that gate. The first mate was heading into the Black Boar.
Jax stopped and looked at the peeling painted sign. At first he thought he should find some other place to drink. But the vibrations of the broken chair still stung very slightly in his hands and he wasn’t ready to just slump away. With quick steps almost a run he was at the door before his superior made it through.
They weren’t on board so he could afford a wide grin as he opened the door , with an exaggerated sweep of his arm in front of her, for the woman who did not have the sense enough to know her place. Unless that is she was going in for her other profession.
Jax looked over the room again and grinned. Maybe a quick bash of some poor drunks face would liven up this crowd. Or a smashed bottle against the wall. No, don’t want to waste the stuff when a chair would be just as good. He sat and pictured the feel of the chair in his hands, the swing, the splitter of the wood as it shattered. Jax smiled.
As quick as the grin found its place on his face he jumped up yipped a yell and took hold of the very seat he was slumping on just seconds before. With hands on the back runs of island pine he took and swung the chair against the table. His hands felt the life of the tree splinter, he heard the crack of years of growth, he smelled the ages of soaked in brew and thrown up stomachs. With a wide grin he stood above the shattered chair and table. That felt much better. He tossed a coin to the stunned bar keep with a smile that no one answered or for that matter questioned. With a laugh he spun from wreckage and left the dull boring Inn.
Once out in the salt thick night air of the port Jax felt a lightness to his step and he began to whistle. It was on old dutch tune familiar to all of the northern seas. Not something he expected anyone would know in these warmer waters. But that made the notes purer to him thinking of them under these southern skies. He liked the sound in his ears.
As he strolled down the docks he saw a figure move gracefully through the streets from the land side of town. He stopped his whistle. There was purpose to the strides he watched and it didn't take Jax long to identify the height and the slight sway of that gate. The first mate was heading into the Black Boar.
Jax stopped and looked at the peeling painted sign. At first he thought he should find some other place to drink. But the vibrations of the broken chair still stung very slightly in his hands and he wasn’t ready to just slump away. With quick steps almost a run he was at the door before his superior made it through.
They weren’t on board so he could afford a wide grin as he opened the door , with an exaggerated sweep of his arm in front of her, for the woman who did not have the sense enough to know her place. Unless that is she was going in for her other profession.
Docking was one of those thrills Jax never tired of. Yea, get that lady to approach with style and class then gently slide her next to the pier. It was a kiss. It needed skilled gentle hands to guide and coax her to sit near shore. Jax loved it. Most crew never noticed his playing with his lady love to get her touch those massive wooden piers like a wrench that knew just when to open her legs. But like that moment when any man enters Jax didn’t care much about anything other than the feel. And Dusk Skate was the best. She didn’t bump or fumble at all. She knew when to play fast and furious and when to slow things down and tickle the breeze.
It was high Jax found difficult to tuck away as he stepped back from the helm and let his grin and his closed eyes say it all. Not that any noticed. All the crew had their tasks and their own moments. He let the buzz around him settle in his own background before he opened his eyes again. He lciked his lips to taste the mix of salt and sand, of sea and land, of his hands on the best ship he ever sailed.
Jax didn’t need to be there as the ship unloaded. Truth was he wasn’t in a hurry to leave her side. And he helped just a little to relieve her of her burdens, her load. He chuckled at the thought of him trying to linger around his new found love and realized he better get his feet on land and off to some pile of hay before he jacked off in some knot hole. Ha, how amusing was that.
Most had long gone into the night with coins jingling, thirsty mouths and needy bodies. He slipped his small bag over his shoulder and stood on the deck still finding it hard to leave. He should be running down the plank. He be drunk already.
With a snicker he realized he better find a close inn and get into some quick fight before he began to wonder too much about his place on this crew. Unlike the mermaids that seem to have bewitched the Captain and run off into their own dark places, Jax knew what you did on shore made your place in the crew almost as much as your skill on deck. If the crew didn’t see him tossing down a few, new as he was, they might begin to wonder.
Let them wonder, Jax laughed out loud as he walked along the water’s edge. He just walked. Feeling the land under his feet was most always his first need after a successful dock. Not that Jax ever wanted to be grounded but he was sure that he needed the solid land under him after time on the water. He circled around and around not in a hurry. Finally he found some lively Tavern not too far from the dock to wash the marsh taste from his mouth. It was time to leave his real love and find a different taste.
And as luck would have it some younger tired maid smiled at him as he entered. “I know you hear it all the time,” He smiled brightly at her and reached to just touch her arm, “but you are a pleasant site to weary eyes.” He winked as he sat in the chair to her side. “Rum, please.”
It was high Jax found difficult to tuck away as he stepped back from the helm and let his grin and his closed eyes say it all. Not that any noticed. All the crew had their tasks and their own moments. He let the buzz around him settle in his own background before he opened his eyes again. He lciked his lips to taste the mix of salt and sand, of sea and land, of his hands on the best ship he ever sailed.
Jax didn’t need to be there as the ship unloaded. Truth was he wasn’t in a hurry to leave her side. And he helped just a little to relieve her of her burdens, her load. He chuckled at the thought of him trying to linger around his new found love and realized he better get his feet on land and off to some pile of hay before he jacked off in some knot hole. Ha, how amusing was that.
Most had long gone into the night with coins jingling, thirsty mouths and needy bodies. He slipped his small bag over his shoulder and stood on the deck still finding it hard to leave. He should be running down the plank. He be drunk already.
With a snicker he realized he better find a close inn and get into some quick fight before he began to wonder too much about his place on this crew. Unlike the mermaids that seem to have bewitched the Captain and run off into their own dark places, Jax knew what you did on shore made your place in the crew almost as much as your skill on deck. If the crew didn’t see him tossing down a few, new as he was, they might begin to wonder.
Let them wonder, Jax laughed out loud as he walked along the water’s edge. He just walked. Feeling the land under his feet was most always his first need after a successful dock. Not that Jax ever wanted to be grounded but he was sure that he needed the solid land under him after time on the water. He circled around and around not in a hurry. Finally he found some lively Tavern not too far from the dock to wash the marsh taste from his mouth. It was time to leave his real love and find a different taste.
And as luck would have it some younger tired maid smiled at him as he entered. “I know you hear it all the time,” He smiled brightly at her and reached to just touch her arm, “but you are a pleasant site to weary eyes.” He winked as he sat in the chair to her side. “Rum, please.”
Dodging crazy women always fits in the equation.
Jax grinned, rum and skirts sounded damn fine to him as he listen to his Captain tease with port promises. He didn’t take his eyes off the fine sway of his new lover’s bow. This piece of canvas and wood was fine, exquisite, better in his hands than even he had dreamed. His new lady was Dusk Skate. And he didn’t mind sharing her love with the real master Captain Thomas Lightfoot. Not at all. Any Captain worth his salt loved his ship. He expected that. But this man knew how to love a vessel better than most. You could tell it in his eyes, his face and his crew. He kept things tight and clean.
To Jax’s surprise, the crew was much better trained skilled and efficient than lots of other times he shared the deck. So it made the strange off center unlucky crew members even more of a puzzlement to Jax. Women? There were women on this crew. How the freezing fuckin' frothy seas did that happen? Any sailor knew tits and ass did not go well anywhere but tied up in the hole. Jax was onboard and head over heals in love with the fine ship before he even realized the unlucky part. Women? That can’t be good.
Now, unknown to anyone Jax had managed a great feat; he hadn’t blurted out his shock when he first noticed the first mate had curves places they weren’t supposed to be. Woman? So maybe she was the Captain's’ squeeze. Still even that did not sit so well. Pussy clouds a man’s brain and Jax always thought the best Captains had big balls and no dick. Yet he couldn’t really figure if the dame was spending time in the Captains quarters or not. Not that he hadn’t looked, damn even in pants she was, something he could admit wanting to feel. He tried hard not to watch her.
Just when he was trying to figure out that first mate some sweet peice of no hiding it at all swayed past and as if to flaunt everything. She crawled right up the mast. More woman? Damn. And they weren’t at each other really as if they were each fighting for the finest cabin and Lightfoot. Or not that Jax noticed. But then would he? Unless there was some on the deck cat fight, which Jax could admit he might enjoy, he might not know how sea woman fought for their berths.
But even a bigger surprise was the crew seemed to let them be. What? Had they bed everyone already and all the crew was fine with that. Maybe they shared like some days brown sugar and some days white. Jax could not figure it out. He held his tongue only because he liked this ship so much, and truth be told he thought Lightfoot a good Captain even if he had enough dick for both the wenches. But the only way he managed not to show his uneasiness with woman on board was to steer wide and clear of both of them.
Because any sailor knew woman on a ship sooner or later would bring bad luck.
Still, they were almost to port and Jax had managed not to stuff his foot and thought in his mouth just yet. Maybe those women would find some safe spot with knitting, babies, and sweets on land like they should.
To Jax’s surprise, the crew was much better trained skilled and efficient than lots of other times he shared the deck. So it made the strange off center unlucky crew members even more of a puzzlement to Jax. Women? There were women on this crew. How the freezing fuckin' frothy seas did that happen? Any sailor knew tits and ass did not go well anywhere but tied up in the hole. Jax was onboard and head over heals in love with the fine ship before he even realized the unlucky part. Women? That can’t be good.
Now, unknown to anyone Jax had managed a great feat; he hadn’t blurted out his shock when he first noticed the first mate had curves places they weren’t supposed to be. Woman? So maybe she was the Captain's’ squeeze. Still even that did not sit so well. Pussy clouds a man’s brain and Jax always thought the best Captains had big balls and no dick. Yet he couldn’t really figure if the dame was spending time in the Captains quarters or not. Not that he hadn’t looked, damn even in pants she was, something he could admit wanting to feel. He tried hard not to watch her.
Just when he was trying to figure out that first mate some sweet peice of no hiding it at all swayed past and as if to flaunt everything. She crawled right up the mast. More woman? Damn. And they weren’t at each other really as if they were each fighting for the finest cabin and Lightfoot. Or not that Jax noticed. But then would he? Unless there was some on the deck cat fight, which Jax could admit he might enjoy, he might not know how sea woman fought for their berths.
But even a bigger surprise was the crew seemed to let them be. What? Had they bed everyone already and all the crew was fine with that. Maybe they shared like some days brown sugar and some days white. Jax could not figure it out. He held his tongue only because he liked this ship so much, and truth be told he thought Lightfoot a good Captain even if he had enough dick for both the wenches. But the only way he managed not to show his uneasiness with woman on board was to steer wide and clear of both of them.
Because any sailor knew woman on a ship sooner or later would bring bad luck.
Still, they were almost to port and Jax had managed not to stuff his foot and thought in his mouth just yet. Maybe those women would find some safe spot with knitting, babies, and sweets on land like they should.
Oh very fun reads this morning. I was a little behind and it was a good treat with the morning coffee. What a crew! Fun. And thanks.
Jozua Arie Xander
Nickname Jax
Age:
Of course he doesn’t really know or when asked will go on about which movement is counted, the turning of the seas or the seasons or the clips on some rulers tabs? By appearance he is in his late twenties. By personality it is often commented he is younger.
Appearance:
Solid. Unrefined. Hair and build are always the noted first. Followed by the mischievous eyes and easy free smile. His blond wrapped hair hangs over his shoulders and although he take little care of it he his very attached to those locks. The wind through his hair is a real high, and he tosses his head often embracing that feel. His shoulders are wide and have no trouble being adorned by this sundrenched hair. Thick arms and wide legs define him sometimes as stocky. But the proportions are not unpleasant. There is not one bit of fat. Shorter than his Captain, and yet they both have the fair northern tone more unusual in the darker tones of the Caribbean.
Position:
Navigator and Helmsman.
Background:
Jax tells the tale that he was born on a ship. Parents invented sailed from his ancestral roots of Maastricht Holland to better themselves while he was but a bun a warming. Truth is he was picked off his orphaned street and tossed into a hold as a very young boy. So he grew up on ships.
But he jumped from one to another whenever possible thinking as a child to find that paradise, then as an adolescent to see the world, and as a young man to collect wealth. He has been successful because he learned every early on what skill was sought after. Direction, navigation. Jax crept into every map room, befriended every navigator, studied each night sky and embraced the sea’s direction. He knew how to maneuver a ship. He had grown into the roll and now he is one of the best.
He has been on lots of ship but knows and remembers each and every one better than he connects the names of the soft woman curves he enjoys at ports. He had been hired and stood on deck for just a minute and refused to sail all because he did not like the feel of the sails, or the curve of the bow, or the feel of the wheel.
He loves Dusk Skate. He did from the first time he laid eyes on her. He is not as sure of the mates but he is beginning to find the current of things, the rise and falls of the crew and Captain.
Jax is new to the ship having to wiggle his way in by getting the old helmsman drunk and paying him to stay ashore. He left a different pirate ship or more or less traded spots, and now is trying to secure this new position.
No surprise I miss the late night snacks.
But I bet chocolate homemade marshmallows go very well with morning coffee. Than again anything complements mine.
Trade ya thick black slug for sweet treats?
And good morning all.
But I bet chocolate homemade marshmallows go very well with morning coffee. Than again anything complements mine.
Trade ya thick black slug for sweet treats?
And good morning all.
Hey all,
I'm back. But I admit a bit lost and unmotivated. Unless I am really holding some story back, I might take a break as Nuka for a bit longer. Just know if someone really wants to move that lost plot forward just let me know and I'll add what I got. Looks like most of the players are in other stories. Just being honest.
I'm back. But I admit a bit lost and unmotivated. Unless I am really holding some story back, I might take a break as Nuka for a bit longer. Just know if someone really wants to move that lost plot forward just let me know and I'll add what I got. Looks like most of the players are in other stories. Just being honest.
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