Christen the Grim [London](Portugal)

[Arthur Kirkland]

"Welcome Lord Kirkland, to your new vessel."

Arthur winced briefly as he stepped from the shaded depths of the steam carriage into the bright London harbor. The fresh salt air was welcomed after the muggy smoke scented vehicle - the stink of fish and the ever present London smog welcoming him like a friend he hadn't seen in ages. It was a scene out of a photograph, people bustling everywhere with something to do and showing how much his home country had improved over the last few decades since the war. Ships of all shapes and sizes were coming, leaving or docked, white sails blew in the breeze and gulls dipped and called in the sky.

The sunlight was broken into rays, spotting through the scudding clouds and making a beautiful backdrop to the scene, the scent of rain faint under the other smells, coming in but not yet losing its load on the heads of the city. In other words, it was a nearly perfect day to start a voyage. "Yes, thank you. Let's take a look at her, shall we?" He stepped lightly down the two carriage steps onto the water-smoothed cobblestones.

The as of yet unnamed ship was a beautiful lady. The wood was dark and with a fresh coat of tar, nearly black in color. The sails, normally white by standard were black as well, giving her a sense of elegance and mystique in the high tide. Gilded with gold wood, she had three tall masts and fourteen visible canon-holes - which gave her a proud twenty-eight canons in total. Tall and sleek, Arthur could tell that this was one vessel that would fight to the bitter end for him.

Stepping up the gangplank towards the noise of voices that made up his newly minted crew, Arthur tugged his top hat off his head as the stiff breeze his girl had been protecting him from blew over him. A loud whistle sounded in the air as he stepped aboard - "Captain on the deck!" In a few short seconds, the noise of the crew switched from a mass of voices to a mass of feet hurrying together as the crew lined up and saluted, like the soldiers most, if not all, of them were. Seeing such discipline towards him was frankly unnerving - Arthur being used to the... freedom in which his former crews had. Meaning, the lined up if he demanded it (rarely), but the pirates would still be chattering away, no stiff posture, no hands clasped behind backs or perfectly pressed and shined uniforms.

For a brief moment, Arthur tensed with the feeling that he was being arrested with the way he was being stared at. Then he shrugged his shoulders, threw a polite smile on his face, and pretended that he knew how to run a military vessel. "I believe it is 'at ease', gentlemen. I also believe you were told to expect a speech about glory for Her Majesty or platitudes towards the Navy-" he paused briefly, a ghost of a smile flicking across his lips, "I personally believe such nonsense can wait until after we are underway."

He held his hand out to his current First - current because he knew he would not work well with a man as stiff and severe as the man who stood completely blank faced behind him and made a mental note to either break the man (whose name he had heard but never bothered to remember_ of his ways or dump him in some port when he brought on more crew he could work with - who handed him the ever-so-traditional bottle of champagne. Glancing at the label briefly, Arthur was incredibly glad it was a brand he detested or he would have been filled with such remorse as he broke the bottle of the rail beside him.

"Welcome aboard the Grim, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get to sea before the rains hit us. Officers, I shall be calling a brief meeting once we are underway." And with the last of his captainly duties dispensed with for the moment, Arthur retreated through his office into his personal chambers to change out of his 'noble' costume and into something that could withstand a little salt and rain.

[Portugal]

To say that Afonso was a nervous wreck beneath a calm exterior would be an understatement. Even if everything had gone alright so far – Anaïs had slipped aboard right under the noses of every soldier present (of course the fact she’d been hiding in a box helped). Yet he was still expecting something to go wrong. Now all she had to do was stay put below deck, hidden until he had managed to talk to the Captain or they reached another port. Hopefully though he could persuade the Captain into letting her stay.

Speaking of Captain, Afonso couldn’t help but wonder where the man was or even who he was (in retrospect he really should have read the file a bit more carefully). His suspicion was that it was probably some noble with some military experience. That’s who they normal found to do this, right?

A soft sigh left him as he stood by the mast watching people run back and forth with his good eye. He had offered to help but – well – he had been politely told that everything was under control. Though hadn’t missed the way they’d glanced at the leather eye patch now covering his blind eye. He would have to get use to the looks he would garner with it. He really did wish he had something else to do besides watching though, so his mind would stop jumping from one thought to the next. Always returning to the idea that something would go wrong and Anaïs would be discovered before they even left the port.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so grateful to hear ”Captain on deck!”before.

The order sent everyone scrambling and it was only a matter of moments before they had all lined up to salute the Captain. Of course it wasn’t until the man had spoken that Afonso managed to get a good look at him.

His first thought was that he’d been correct. Seemed like a noble.

The second thought was drowned out by what felt like an ice pick to his temple. Afonso just barely managed to suppress the pained hiss, grateful that they’d been given the ‘at ease’ so he could clench his hands behind his back in an attempt to deal with the sudden pain.

The third thought was drowned out by the onslaught of unfamiliar yet familiar images that flew through his mind. Much like when he had first seen Anaïs. Images that went by too quickly – yet he was sure they had all featured this man – Arthur. His name was - No it was Ing-

And then just as quickly as it struck it ended. Afonso just catching the tail end of what had to be the Captain’s speech. Oh. Hopefully it wasn’t anything important. Though he doubted that. Captain’s always made important speeches when stepping onto a new vessel…

Shaking his head he rubbed his temples with a small hiss of pain; trying to alleviate the throbbing. He had half the mind to grab some aspirin from his trunk before the officer meeting but he’d long since learned medicine rarely relieved his all but perpetual headaches. So instead he waited, side stepped men preparing to ship and did what he could do. His earlier worried thoughts replaced with trying to understand just what had happened. [/color]

[Arthur Kirkland]

Back into the comfortable leather and cotton that made up his everyday ship clothes, Arthur felt perfectly at ease aboard his new Lady. The military uniform he'd been provided - and the certificate that made him technically part of the military enough to be Captain of one of their ships - lay in a crumpled pile at the foot of his bed and would probably remain there until he landed at their next port and had a chance to either sell the clothes for cash or toss them in the ocean. He was thinking Tortuga would be a good place to replace his unwanted crew.

Taking a deep swig of brandy, Arthur plonked heavily into the padded chair that was nailed down in front of his personal desk. It always took a bit of alcohol in him to get his sea legs back and used to the dip and sway of the ship - and even more than that when he went onto land for the first time after weeks at sea so he could still feel that sway on land. He couldn't feel too bitter about his situation (currently indebted to the Navy, captaining a ship run by said aspect of the military and doing their dirty work by hunting his own kind) now that the ship was out to sea and slowly escaping from the influence of direct Royal intervention. Everything felt much more acceptable when he was out on the waters - like he was at home and invincible and he could make anything he want happen so long as there was a sword in one hand, a gun in the other and alcohol in his secret stash.

A sharp rap at his door brought him out of his musings and back to the present. "Sir, all the officers are gathered." His First's voice gloated through the thick wood of the door. Arthur could practically hear the implied 'and waiting on you, you lazy, pathetic excuse for a fake captain'. He grinned, wondering silently how long it would take to get the man to release his pent up aggression. It must burn to be second fiddle to a man who got a piece of paper that put him ahead of years of service and training. Thought Arthur would give the rule-abiding prick some due - he certainly kept his anger at the situation well hidden behind his blank face and polite words.

Tossing back the last of his drink, Arthur carefully stowed the rest of the decanter away in its padded case before getting to his feet, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. The table of the meeting room was bolted to the center of the room and comfortably sat all his officers. Most of the men and women sat with straight-backed precision, crew cuts and stony expressions. It made him stand out like a blue jay amongst a murder of crows. And if that was a sobering thought, it reminded him that they probably would murder him if they found out he was a pirate and fully planned on returning to piracy once the whole privateering act wore out.

Well then. Good evening everyone. Please do not bother to salute, I really don't require that kind of subservience," he said, not-so-privately amused as he caught them halfway standing and about to salute before awkwardly sitting back down, looking perturbed. "We don't have much to talk about - in fact, most of this involves me telling you stuff and you doing it because despite my lack of military training, the Queen of England herself made me Captain of this ship and you will be aiding me or getting the hell off my ship at the next port. Are we clear?" He smiled brightly, awaiting grumbling and injured pride abound.