The ship set sail from Plymouth on a bright, cloudless August morning, in the year 1721. The crew were not told much about the purpose of the voyage other than it was to recover a hidden fortune left behind by a wealthy and deceased Privateer by the name of John Galloway. One thing the crew did not know was the true nature their Captain, who was ever confident, laughing heartily with his shipmates, but always refused to drink alcohol, saying it dulled the senses and that a good Captain always needed to be alert. Their Captain, who was rumoured to consult a map in their quarters that no other shipmate had ever laid eyes on but told of the location of the hidden fortune. Their Captain was a girl. John Galloway's daughter, in fact. Her name was Mary-Anne Galloway. Superstition prohibited women from travelling on ships. It was bad luck, so she disguised herself as a boy. She'd been around sailors all her life, and it was easy to fall into the mannerisms and the tone of voice needed for her crew to believe that she was not just a he, but a manly, seasoned salty sea-dog.

One day she brought the elusive map out in public, and claimed that they had arrived, though there was no landmarks or land of any kind in any direction. But she knew what she was doing. She had been taught how to read this map properly. You had to reach the edge of it, and then go just past that. Quickly, a storm began to pick up, and despite the preparations of the crew, it was too much for the ship to handle, and the storm got worse and worse, and thunder began to crackle from the sky, and the waves began to dwarf the ship, as if the world itself didn't want them to carry on their course.

When the survivors awoke next, they were on a beach, cold and sodden, washed ashore among bodies and splintered wood. The Captain was nowhere to be found, nor the map. As they'd venture further ashore, they'd find a town, harbouring many small boats that looked like nothing they'd ever seen before, and among them, one proper galleon, even more impressive than the one they'd sailed on. The hands at the docks would tell anybody who asked that the ship belongs to a mister James Roper, who could be found in the nearby tavern, and he's looking for a crew...

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All the known survivors of the wreck signed up for Captain Roper's ship, as did several natives. At the en of the day, the complete crew assembled on the deck, and the roles were assigned for the loading of goods and preparation of the voyage. Among them were as followed; James Spencer to oversee the preparation of the sails and rigging, as this kind of ship isn't a style known to the natives. Jay and Cassidy, among others, to transport provisions to the cargo hold. Meryl to provide inventory. Mary-Anne and the Captain retired in private for much of the preparation, as they had matters to discuss.

Once these tasks were done, it was deemed to dark to set sail, so they would spend the evening in the port town, stay overnight, and set sail in the morning. James Roper finally emerged from the Captain's Quarters and called out, in a thick Yorkshire accent; "Anybody who wants to join me in the Tavern is welcome to! i'd like to get you know you all a little better!" which was met with cheers from a lot of the crew, quickly vacating the ship. Shortly after, Mary-Anne emerged, in a dress, though if any of her old crew lingered and stared too long at this woman who had demanded so much of their new Captain's attention, she might look familiar...

Jason was glad to be a part of the new crew. While still sad for those who didn't survive the shipwreck, this wasn't the first time people died around him, and it wasn't going to be the last. Using his strong, muscular arms, the 6' 2" bruiser carried two barrels of provisions upon either shoulder earlier that day, but the work for loading up the ship was done. It was a shame that the new crew couldn't set sail tonight, Jason wasn't going to fret. It might be a good chance to see if anywhere close had any fights he could enter and earn a bit of extra coin. However, the new Captain offered a seat with him at the tavern where they all met him, and if there's drink involved, Captain's orders!

"Aye, Captain Roper! I'll sit with you." The backstreet brawler hastily replied. With that, he made his way off of the deck of the ship and straight to the local tavern. While his first duty was a pint of ale, Jason also kept an eye out for any advertisement or bookie for fights. He went to the barkeep and slid a coin over to the establishment owner. Moments passed before a mug of frothy, golden grog was slid back in return. He made his way to where the Captain seated himself and took a large swig of the drink before sitting down. "Say, Captain. You seem like you know your way around this island. What say I go out and make a bit of coin the way I used to, if you know a place?"

@Silver Carrot

Lt James Spencer, Royal Navy, technically on half-pay, and current First officer, examined the stunsail lashing with a critical eye. The big old galleon was a new experience to him. They seemed over sparred for their masts, even with the old lateen style rigs. Fortunately he had seen such ships plying the country trade in the East Indies, ancient Portuguese vessels with heavy teak hulls working out over the Hoolie Bar to make runs to the Malaccas and to Canton.

A little theoretical knowledge gleaned from talking with old salts and rigging small coastal craft was little enough to go on, but in truth the task was progressing well. Dutifully he inspected each lashing and tested the tension of each line. From time to time he paused to yell at the topmen, nibble sailors who scampered around the top most reaches of the nest of ropes which comprised the rig. They tensioned and loosened lines and rigged cut out pulleys. The ship was an older style but the running rigging was in fine trim. James idly wondered if they could get spars to extend the top gallants so they could run out royals in a high wind.

That would be the captains decision of course. It wasn't James' experience that civilian captains were willing to stress the rig that was their lively hood, until it was too late. It seemed to him that the ship was sea worthy in all respects. He had been trying very hard not to think of where exactly they were. He needed a drink. James never had trouble when he was at sea, it was always the land where the problems lay.

"Square away! I'm going ashore to speak to the captain!" he yelled through cupped hands. The topmen immediately began scrambling down rigging. Turning to make sure the petty officer had heard him he scrubbed at the tar staining his hands and headed down the gang plank and off towards the tavern.

Meryl regarded the proceedings carefully. From atop a large, shaded wooden crate she studied each of the new crewmembers while keeping the ship’s manifest within view. It was an oddly shaped vessel compared to the tri-hull catamarans that her people preferred. As it bobbed gently in the dock, it seemed top-heavy with its single hull and aligned masts. The Captain and some of the rabble he had managed to recruit were quite a contrast as well. Their clothes were heavy and carried a worn formality that appeared nonsensical to her. They seemed more a people conditioned to conquer the water rather than to let it work with them. As they labored some of the men gazed up occasionally at her perch. Some were quizzical, others uncaring and some looked on with more base motivations. Her returned glance was even and unmoving as the port breeze moved her hair gently.

She was moderately surprised at how easy it had been to gain access to the foreign ship. She observed a few locals had enlisted in the crew when they first assembled on deck. There was no one that she knew among them and if they had known of her they had chosen not to speak. Her father’s reputation was still heavy on land and sea and his reach had not shortened in his rumored retirement. She had likewise inherited many of his contacts and had been told of an unusual ship making port in the South along with rumors of a shipwrecked crew on one of the barrier islands. Their ship, interestingly, had been of a similar design. Normally, such circumstance would have been of little interest to her, but the uncommon variables in this one had piqued her curiosity. This Captain had been at just the right place and time to pick up this forlorn crew.

The presence of another female was also a particular point of interest. Meryl knew the woman was not local to the port and unlike the others had not received any tasking from the Captain after their initial assembly. Instead, she had reported directly to the man’s quarters without reappearing until the latest announcement to gather at the Tavern… and received a generous change in clothes as well. As the sun blazed down into the orange cast of late evening, she hopped down from the crate as the other woman disembarked mentally noting how she had waited for most of the others to depart before emerging. Meryl nodded cordially enough, eyes slightly narrowed, as they passed on the gangway. The contrast between the two was evident: Meryl wearing the islanders' light mid-calf cut trousers, sleeveless blouse and simple thong sandals and the other woman in a full dress. Meryl proceeded on board to check on how the cargo had been stored.

Resisting the urge to explore further than the duty required, Meryl quietly made her rounds about the hold and when satisfied returned to the deck. Save for two guards posted, she was the last member of the crew to depart as the final vestiges of daylight had nearly disappeared. She flipped a silver coin to each man before leaving. “Keep my ship safe while I’m out, ya?” She said with a grin. “I’ll be back in a wink.” The men looked on puzzled as Meryl disappeared with lantern in hand, but each pocketed a coin that would translate into several drinks the next time someone else drew guard duty.

Once the Captain gave the all clear for him to come aboard, Cassidy, had felt his spirits lifted. The doc usually kept a carefree and cheery disposition about him however, since crashing upon the shores of the island...he found it rather difficult for his smile to be genuine. Once the new crew had been formed and the duties had been dished out he set to work helping Jason with the cargo. The man was hardy and had no trouble lifting two barrels at a time. Very impressive~ The site was especially remarkable when compared to Cass who had his hands full with one supply crate at a time. However, this factor did not deter the medic from entering into a mental race of 'who could load the most the fastest'. Needless to say he was out matched and had to accept defeat. Can't fault a man for tryin'.

Cassidy set his last box down wiping his brow when Captain Roper invited all who wished to the tavern. "Aye Captain, right behind ya." What better way than to get to know the captain and the crew then over a few pints? There was none in his opinion. The curly haired man dusted off his hands and began to make his way off the ship walking past one of the two women on board. Some believed in the superstition that centered around sailing with women. It was just a bunch of hog wash. He certainly didn't mind the presents of a woman on the ship. And these two ladies looked as if they could handle themselves well. "S'cuse me lass." He said as he passed her with a polite tip of his head. She had on a pretty dress and it would be a shame if the grime from his clothes were to get on it. He met her eyes briefly and a sense of deja vu hit him. She looked so familiar. Had he seen her before? Maybe around the island? It was rather peculiar really. Though before he could put a name to the face a two crew members eager to get to the tavern swept him up at their sides. Ah, well. He would have plenty time to figure it out.

@GingerBoi123 @Penny

The Captain himself was seated at the largest table in the inn (which made tables out to very thick peices of driftwood sanded down to make a smooth surface and then with four legs cross-nailed to it. The Captain's table was thusly a cross between a pentagram and a circle, and wobbled on one leg, which is why the Captain had elected to not use the table, and hold his bottle of....some kind of alien spirit.

"What business would that be? Fighting?" He answered Jason, shaking his head. "There aren't many fighters here, and even if there were, they wouldn't give you money for winning. Plus I don't want you bloodied and sore the night before we set sail. You need to work out there."

The Captain then turned his attention to James, who had arrived alongside the bulk of the crew, who all went to the bar in a rush, though the Captain called James over with a gesture of the hand. "Hey, I see how you walk and how you give commands. You're a King's Man, aren't you?" The Yorkshireman asked in a friendly way, but with a dangerous undertone to it, as if the real question he was asking was 'You're not in the Navy anymore, right? You don't have any qualms about sailing under me, right?'

@Pilatus@vertigh0st

Mary-Anne had been curious about the other woman on board. She was a native. Mary-Anne's plan was to stow away in secret in the early hours of the morning, but if women weren't barred from sailing by superstition, she needn't have to hide herself. She suppose she should come open to her crew about misleading them eventually, luckily none of the crew had recognized her yet. They were looking for their salty yet boyish Captain, not a lady dressed as such.

She started to walk besides Meryl as they headed to the tavern, and Mary-Anne was smiling. "Hello," she greeted. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Mary-Anne Galloway."

Just then a crew member passed them, and their eyes met. May-Anne thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, though he kept on walking, even so, Meryl would note that the lady's smile had gone and she looked a little pale.

"I am the Kings Man Sir," James responded with the instant rote reply of a hundred Wardroom toasts. The upper class accent rendered sir more like sar. Hands moving more or less of their own voliton James bough his cup to his lips and tossed off the content, some sort of local claret, off in a single mouthful. James grinned a trifle wryly, he hadn't won and lost two fortunes by being a blind follower of orders.

"Although in fairness, I find my lance a little freer of late," he qualified. James sorely hoped that they never had cause to fight a British manowar but he could square his conscience in pretty much all other matters. He could get back in, he just needed lightning to strike thrice.

"The ships in good condition sir, properly laded and squared away Bristol fashion. She's a tough old bitch I'd wager and she will go windward like a witch in a high sea."

Meryl turned at the sound of footprints behind her. With lantern raised her free hand dropped to the small of her back where she kept a short dagger saved. She was no fighter and knew one quick swipe would likely only buy enough time for her to get a running start. The sight of Mary-Anne approaching in the evening dim left her slightly relieved if not a little surprised. Her pulse lightened and her mind immediately shifted back to business. “Hallo, Marry-Anne Galloway.”

Galloway…Galloway… Her mind raced through a mental index. Gallow-Way, Gallow, Way to the Gallow. Her left eyebrow cocked slightly in the lantern light- An inquisitive tell she was known for. It was an unusual name which, despite her numerous contacts, she wasn’t familiar. What was the Captain’s name, again? She thought as the man’s identity temporarily escaped her. Ripper, Rapper, Rodent… Roper! That was it. Different last name. So they weren’t married…as she’d suspected.

As one of the new crewmembers passed by, Meryl briefly scanned over the wiry man who was also, supposedly, the ship’s physician. She hoped he was a better at being a doctor than he was at loading cargo. She turned her attentions back to Mary-Anne quickly noticing how the woman’s countenance had fallen at the man’s passing. “Maryland” She said in response to the greeting. “Maryland Bannister, but I usually go by Meryl.” She glanced down the dark winding pathway that led back to the port town. “I’m not really one for drinking, but I am interested in what measure of crew our Captain has managed to scrounge.”

“I'm also curious what kind of debts this lot has already managed to rack up.” Meryl said as they walked in the dark. Gambling and debts are for fools, they control people, Meryl. They’re sheep. A man that will let his vices control him isn’t a man. He can be controlled. She could hear her father’s words replaying in her mind. She needed men that were malleable, pliable… or controllable. As they approached an unlit doorway she retrieved a ring of keys from her belt loop. Ruckus laughter and the shuffling of tables could be heard on the other side. She nonchalantly flipped through the keys and opened the door in the lantern light.

They entered through a candlelit corridor. Meryl very gingerly stepped over a pair of revelers that had already hit their limit for the evening and were scantly conscious. One man groaned and slowly reached a groping hand up towards the women as they passed- a hand which Meryl verily casually met with a swift kick that produced an oddly satisfying Thwack! as it impacted the wood floor. The man whimpered sorrowfully. “Watch your step.” She said with a brief glance back as they stepped into the main hall.