Gently but quickly extended a hand to grasp Salina’s shoulder. He meant this in a completely unthreatening way, in fact he only wanted to stop her from leaving the room before he had a chance to ask his question. Sometimes his size made simple gestures look threatening.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a place to sleep around here, would you? I need quiet to sleep.”

Santiago also hoped that wherever she directed him to, or invited him to as was his fancy, had a mirror so he could trim his beard. It was a lengthy process but it took a lot of styling and patience to make such a massive beard look good and not just a scraggly lump of dirty hair. Cornelio didn’t really love his beard, but it gave him something to do, and he prized himself on keeping it presentable and neat. The only real problem with the beard was that gun blasts could singe it… Then he’d have to cut it all off and start again. The Spaniard had done it two years before.

The man was far from foolish. Marcello liked that the captain was strait forward, made for a good leader.

"I have grown up under the law. My father made his fortune with hard work and honesty, but he was hanged as a traitor and conspirator. Both my father and older brother were charged with deeds that fit the accuser, not the accused. I have seen the ill turn the law allows to those who follow it. At least Pirates are guilty of the crimes they commit. On my fathers name I swore to make my fortune with hard work, but I will not be bound to a system that see's innocence rewarded with blood."

The words sounded more noble than Marcello intended them too, or perhaps the Italian was more noble than he gave himself credit for.

He finished with a simple statement, "I am not a dishonest man Captain James Taylor, but I am free, and the law has forced me to find my freedom under the title of pirate."

Lali strode, with all the dignity the word implies, absolutely strode out onto the docks. He was not a man to ask much or say much, because a simple answer was a wrong answer, but that was life. He looked at the night which had encased them all, and felt the coolness of the stagnant air.

For it was stagnant. It did not have the rage like the sea wind as it fought the ship, it did not have the nuances of civilization, bearing the smells of tea and ash from the pyres and temples of industry, it did not have the pureness of that air to the west. So far west that the sun vanished overhead, so far west where no man had breathed the air since time immemorial.

The air was dead here, or rather the people were.
They walk around knowing nothing asking nothing and on and on and on" He muttered, sort of hummed. The people here had settled, they were not rich, they were not pious, they were not happy. These were those most mediocre of men, for the worst had died of hunger and disease, and the best were taken, taken by the jealous sea, that lady scorned who would not let the world have those few good men.

Lali had been quietly making himself a little shack, he had moved the crates, bursting with textiles and iron ingots, with total ease, and made a small cave out of them, throwing down the bags he began to hang a little hammock not an inch from the ground with his rope and canvas. Soon enough, he was pulling a box in over him, the stack of crates a bit bigger, but sealed well and unassuming as they housed the massive, seemingly crushed man within.

He took the acceptance with calm and collected restraint, on the inside he was relieved of the acceptance, after all until now he had always held a right to board a number of ships sailing to all manner of locations. This was the fist time he had ever looked for a place on a ship that he didn't, in essence, own.

Marcello bowed his head in accnowelagment. "Capitano, la bellezza è libertà." removing his hat and raising one hand as though he was making an invisible toast. "Beauty is freedom, a motto to live by." Marcello replaced his hat on his head, adjusted his coat one last time and extended a hand to his new commander, "I look forward to serving under you sir."

It took all her control not to reach for her sword and hold Santiago at blade point. It was like that every time a man attempted to grab but she had learned not to show her fear for it would only make her weak. Instead, she calmly turned to face him and listened to what he had to say.

"We do.But some coins would be necessary," Bambi jumped in before Salina could say anything. "It's on the second floor, the second door from the staircase," Bambi crossed her hands across her chest and looked Santiago straight in the eyes. It was a good room considering how the bar was at least owned by decent people and the rooms were clean and well equipped.

"You should take it," Salina encouraged him.

It was morning. Santiago could smell it. Perhaps seven or eight AM. He had gotten a good sleep, indeed, Salina had been truthful in her words. The room was quiet and had a good study bed. His armor was shinned and his Pole Axe sharpened, Cornelio had even found time to trim his beard of stray hairs in the room's mirror. Proudly he dawned his uniform and prepared for the day. The Captain had said they were going to set sail this very morning, had the Spaniard hoped the man was true to his word.
Opening the door he stepped out into the hall. Santiago considered going up to Salina's room to make sure she had gotten up as well as to see if she was alright, but he was afraid she might think it a little too intrusive. He would simply wait for her downstairs. Besides, he needed to grab a bite before they set sail anyhow. He couldn't wait to see the ship; Full of sail and cannon.
The bar was significantly quieter in the morning then it had been the night before. Some men lay over their tables, passed out, but other then those it was empty. Cornelio walked over to the bar and saw the owner's wife, though he could not remember her name, behind the counter cleaning glasses from the night before.

"Excuse me, but do you serve any food here?"

She looked up and smiled. Since Santiago was no longer drunk, she was a lot more friendly.

"We do 'ave a few things."

He nodded at the woman and smiled in return. He didn't want anything fancy, just a meal.

"If you could please toss a few things on a plate, I would be grateful."

"Certainly."

"Oh, and a water please."

The woman nodded at his order and toddled off towards the back, where Santiago assumed the kitchen mist lie. As he walked to a table he reviewed the previous night's events. It had been action packed compared to normal standards. He had killed three people, found an exceptionally interesting female, and joined the crew of a pirate ship. Very eventful. Cornelio sat at his table and waited for his food to arrive and Salina to descend from her room.

Marcello decided of all the places to go, back to the pub would be the most fulfilling, after all he could eat there.

From last night his appearance had changed only slightly. The sane rugged red jacket over a leather full vest, the white color and sleeves. Black pants and sturdy boots rounding out the attire, all in all a well dressed sailor and he could pass for a fairly good society man. The difference today was the two rapiers that hung at his side, one tight against his left waist side and one rocking gently a hands length below it, and the two pistols tucked in the front of his belt sash. He carried the rest of his belongings in a bang over his shoulder as he made his way through the streets. He walked with a certain pride that gave people the idea that they ought get out of his way, perhaps he was of some importance, the red coat leading more than a few to believe he was a Marine of the Royal Navy. Marcello smiled as he walked though, waving good day to those merchants he had done business with in his time there.

The morning gave this place a new meaning, fresh salt air and the gulls complaining that the fishermen were not yet hard enough at work. The sun light tuned the dark alleys into inviting places of business. Gentlemen took a stroll down to the docks to look over the daily operations of their interests, one with an excited son in tow. It was a good place to live despite the rough night at the bar.

The Italian entered the pub and took a quick glance around, a few passed out drunks hung over from the night before, a handful of sober gents playing dice at a corner table, and a much cleaner looking version of the Spaniard. Macello made this his goal and took a seat next to the man at the bar, "Salute amico, I believe we sail today the same ship. I am Marcello Grecko, what might your name be sir Spaniard?"

Salina hadn't had such a peaceful sleep. She had spent an hour chucking whatever she owned into a small canvas bag she owned. She didn't own anything large and most of it were her maps and journals. The rest of the night or late morning was spent lying in bed, half asleep as she was alert to every single sound on the street. It had grown quiet in the night as most of the drunkards had either left or passed out. Her being tense was more to the fear that Carter might come back with others to get her. She did manage to catch an hour's worth of sleep and when as she looked herself in the mirror, she was glad that her lack of sleep wasn't that obvious. Besides, she usually slept very little.

Pulling her thick hair back into a ponytail with her fringe falling forward, Salina was ready for the day and excitement thrummed through her blood. She would be back on sea soon and it was a prospect she was looking forward to. Grabbing her small bag, she slung it over her head and the canvas sack hung across her back. Once she was satisfied that she had not left anything behind, Salina left her room and strode along the hallway to the stairs. As she walked down the final flight of stairs, she could smell the slightest hint of breakfast being mad and her stomach grumbled. As she reached the bottom step, Salina tucked her hat under her arm and approached Bambi.

"Breakfast for you too Al?" Bambi smilingly asked.

"I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse!" Salina exclaimed as she laughed.

"I'll get ya something ta eat as well," and with that Bambi headed for the kitchens.

Salina turned around and noticed Santiago already seated at one of the tables. As she headed over to his table, another man, the one from the night before, approached Santiago and introduced himself as Macello. Once at the table, Salina smiled at Santiago before taking a seat.

Lali awoke not long after he closed his eyes. Why should he sleep? Night was a proud time. It was cool, and the moon was not so harsh as the sun. The stars were consistency in a random world and the endless waxing and waning was ripe with symbolism. The sort of thing for poetry, not rope-making.

He pulled himself from his little hut of boxes, replacing them and making sure to collect his rope. Every fiber and sinew as strong as iron. Life was like a rope. Each person, every human soul, was as interconnected with the world as any other. There really was no worst or best, and it was far easier for one thread to undo many, than for many to correct one.

Lali walked with pride. Night did this to him. It was at night where he was a young warrior having killed his first lion, told by his father to seek out Monsieur Thibald Trevaz. It was at Night the cannons blasted, the weak frame of a boy ripped from Slavery to Piracy.

But sure enough, the sun rose in the East as it always would, and the light glinted off of Lali's sweeping rapier. He looked clean, pressed. He had found an old woman's cleaning vat and her hung clothes and finished folding it, borrowing some water to bathe and clean his clothes. He had his rapier down to a shine, its unnecessarily flourished handle as fine as any. He had washed his ears and eyes to see the stars more clearly and hear, more purely, the singing of birds.

Why the hell was he a pirate? There was something to be said for poetry and reminiscing and clean clothes. But what could beat good liquor and good women and the roar of the sea? The madness of being stuck with the same men for days on end, bound by sweat, salt, and blood, knowing that the sea was merely a tool, an instrument to conduct the symphony of freedom and rebellion and all the powers of youth in a systematically sporadic paradox made no less nonsensical by rum.

(Lag = double post)

Santiago glanced up at the Italian man as he sat down. He was mid-chew and simply nodded in acknowledgement of the man’s question. Grabbing the mug of water, he took a swig and cleared his throat to address his company properly.

“Please to meet you Marcello. My name is Santiago.”

Taking another bite he smiled as Salina came down from her room and ordered a serving of food. She sat down and smiled back. He gave her a slight nod before speaking.

“Did you have a good sleep? Since I didn’t hear any screams I assume that man didn’t return.”

Santiago looked at the Italian.

“Oh, and this is Marcello Grecko. Looks like he’ll be sailing with his.”

He looked at Marcello.

“Speaking of which, do you know anything about our captain or his ship?”

Marcello pondered the question for a moment.

"I've heard my share of stories about Captain James Taylor. He's smart, he runs his ship with a brain, he fights with one too. As to what he sails, none of my ex colleges ever had the misfortune of coming upon the man at sea, so I can not say weather he commands a cutter or a large row boat. Though if half the stories of his exploits are true his ship is more than capable."

Marcello removed his hat and set it aside on the table, turning his attention toward the woman that had joined them, "I hope you'll excuse my surprise, a lady sailing on a pirate vessel isn't something one see's every day. But the captain has his reason's and they are good enough for me." He rested one arm on the table and extended the other toward her, not like a gentleman would to a lady, no she was part of the crew, and so this was a gesture intended for a handshake. "And as you know my name, might we be introduced?"

Salina shook her head in response to Santiago's question. It had struck to close to her fear and the reason for her lack of sleep so she had chose to simply shake her head. Bambi brought over a dish with a bread and some cheese on it. She also placed a mug of water beside the dish. Thanking Bambi, Salina tore away a piece of the bread and chewed on it while Marcello spoke of the Captain they were to be working under. Salina was glad to at least find out that Captain James was more than capable of handling himself and a crew. As she swallowed part of the cheese she had bitten into, Marcello spoke to her.

It seemed he too was not used to females on board a ship. But then again, who really was? It was still a bad omen for most Captains and oddly enough, Lali had seemed to be the only one who had thought otherwise. But ofcourse, the large man seemed to love to wax poetry about anything and everything. A little pleased that Marcello was treating her as an equal by offering his hand for her to shake, Salina placed her own hand into his and gave a firm shake. "I'm Salina. But you can call me Al." She withdrew her hand and teasingly said, "I hope the Captain does know what he's doing by letting me on the ship. I might sink it with my bad luck." She picked up the mug and drank the clean water. Salina considered the two men before her and recalled Lali and Captain James. These were the only four she knew who were in the crew. And she was glad that she was one of them.

"I might sink it with my bad luck"'

Marcello laughed, "Well if the sea holds some prejudice against women I have yet to see it. After all I've seen men turned to school girls in the heat of it all and the sea saw fit to leave the ship afloat. I dare say you are made from better stock than many a man seeking his fortune on a sea he has not learned to respect properly. And when the lady demands respect there is no place for soft hearts and weak knees. Except over the edge and down with Davy Jones, if he would even keep their like."

Looking toward the door for a reference of time Marcello figured it would be first tide soon enough, and time for them to get underway. It was always good to get under way at first tide, merchants and most larger fishing vessels set out with the first tide, so a ship wishing to avoid possible notice from authorities would be passed off with the rest of the morning traffic. Some very wanted ships had set sail under the bright morning sun and waving a hand to the guards as they passed, passed off as some merchant or another.

"Well, I vote we go meet the Captain at the docks, doubt he would be much of a breakfast man. Besides I'm interested to see which bundle of wood and sheet he commands."

He listened to the two as he ate, stuffing his food away as quickly as he could without looking like a complete slob. His days in the military had taught him not to waist time eating, or to pass up a meal. You never know when you’ll eat next.

"I hope the Captain does know what he's doing by letting me on the ship. I might sink it with my bad luck."

Santiago didn’t respond. He had a few horror stories about women on ships. Women in battle as well. He’d seen a man cut in half by ropes because of a woman. But Salina was an exception to the rule. He could feel it. She could handle herself and Santiago thought she could handle more then just that.
More of the conversation went by and the Spaniard finished his meal, chugging the last of his water. He brushed some crumbs free of his beard and adjusted his uniform.

"Well, I vote we go meet the Captain at the docks, doubt he would be much of a breakfast man. Besides I'm interested to see which bundle of wood and sheet he commands."

Cornelio had to agree and rose from his seat.

“I agree. I won’t sail on anything smaller then a raft. Let me go get my Axe.”

He trudged up the stairs at a brisk pace and entered his room. Propped up against the wall was his Pole-Axe, glimmering in the dull light. Santiago loved t hat weapon and often joked that he could block bullets with it.
Descending the stairs he rejoined those present at the table. He was ready now. All his worldly possession was on his person. But hopefully by the end of this voyage he would have enough money to buy some more.

“Is everyone ready?”

Salina laughed at Marcello's remark and was sure as she looked at both him and Santiago that this had to be one of the better crews she would be on. She quickly finished her bread and cheese as the two agreed that it was time to head down to the docks to report to their Captain. As Santiago went up to get his axe, Salina quickly went off to find Bambi and Joe. They were at the back having breakfast together.

"I'm leaving," she said softly.

Bambi turned to look at the young girl who had quickly become her friend. "You're sure this is what you want?"

Without any hesitation, Salina nodded her head. "You know that I never change my mind once I've decided upon something."

"Oh Al. I'll miss ya dearie!" Bambi rushed forward to hug Salina who awkwardly pat Bambi on the back.

"I'll miss you too Bambi. I'll see you one day," Salina smiled down at the only woman she had ever gotten to know well. Joe came around the table to shake hands with Salina.

"Ya take care ya hear? Trouble always seems to follow ya so watch yer back Al," Jo said gruffly.

"I will and take care of yourself and Bambi here," Salina said before she shook hands with Jo. Casting one last smile at her two friends, Salina returned to the front table where she slung her bag across her back. Santiago returned at the moment and asked if they were ready.

"I am. Let's go."

Marcello replaced his hat on his head and adjusted it. Swinging his pack over his shoulder as he stood. With every one accounted for and ready he made his way out the door and turned toward the docks. Other sailors were making their way toward their respective ships and boats for what every work they had for the day. The docks were usually a place of activity and this morning was no different. Supplies being loaded or off loaded, men making ready, last minute repairs to this sail or that yard arm. Of at the end of the dock a navy ship was being re-outfitted, from the looks of it the ship had made the journey across the Atlantic recently and the weather had not been good to her.

Marcello kept a keen eye out for the captain as he walked. He doubted that the port master knew which ship was Captain James Taylors, no sane pirate let his identity out to the port master, unless he was yearning for a quick trip to the gallows. So there was really nothing to do but watch and wait. The ports were not over large, it wouldn't be hard to find Taylor.