Cutlass Mission 9B - “Vapors of Latitude” Mission 9C "Fumes of Revenge" - 11/25/2020

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Ah, my friends, it’s good to see you’ve all waited so patiently to hear the rest of my tale. Le Sal, thanks for the rum, my dear, as always, I thank you for your steadying influence.

Now, where were we? Durand had just saved the rum in the storm? Le Sal, you’d think I’d have remembered that, hah-hah! Yes, well, following the storm we continued sailing north into uncharted waters. Toppo and Willoughby had both caught chills in the storm and remained in the hold resting - unusual for the mighty Toppo and lucky Willoughby! Meanwhile, Mayweather had confronted, and replaced Schmitt Muller as Master of Arms. Only Jansen von Jacobs remained at his post of the original officers - the signatories of the treasonous “Declaration of Liberation from Tyranny.” Events forestalled Jansen’s eventual removal.

First, the whales. The mighty creatures crowded our vessel and threatened to crack our hull. Paul Wildemoon had a unique solution to the problem. He’d figured out the leviathans subsisted on mass quantities of the alga suspended in the brine. The unlucky men sent to scrape the hull came back with a substantial amount of green scum, which was rowed west in a jolly-boat and dumped in the currents. Surprisingly, the plan worked. The hungry monsters swam off in search of more food.

We next turned our sails east, right into another raging storm. The ship rocked and tilted crazily. Paul and Mayweather seemed transfixed in the forecastle. “Mother… Lady Catherine! I am aboard your Triumph” Mayweather screamed to the thunder.

“Please, go over,” Durand called in response. Theseus was at the wheel and he misunderstood Durand’s sarcasm. Theseus heaved at the wheel and spun the ship to retrieve the “missing man.” His maneuvers somehow flung “Lady Catherine Triumphant” into a pattern where she hugged the troughs of the raging sea until we emerged into calm waters. Still, even the most elite sailors can become disillusioned. The crew lost much of their faith in the Captain, and became quite unruly.

As we sailed south, between the edges of two storms, the Captain chose to blame Mayweather for the recent difficulties. Only his silver tongue saved him from the brig. We spun eastwards once more to avoid another pod of whales, and, as we moved from deep water to the mid-shallows, we finally had time to attend to matters at hand - namely the replacement of Jansen von Jacobs as Master of Guns. The look he gave me when I informed him we knew of his true identity would have curdled all the milk aboard if there was any. With the officer positions now filled by our band of schemers we took to evening strategy sessions in the cramped Officer’s Mess, where Mayweather’s faithful sherpa-du-chapeau, Yonten, served piping hot tea for one and all. When on deck the youth often wore a look of sullen disinterest. Below-decks, he poured our tea with a slight smile on his full lips.

Our soundings led us to believe the ocean would grow shallower to the northeast, thus, more likely to find lands. None too soon, as we were already short of stores, and much of what was left must have spoiled. I had developed near constant cramping in my stomach. At times it felt as if my very insides were on fire, and similar to the feeling one has after drinking the rotgut L’Reynard here prefers to sweet rum….

Our guesses as to land were near perfect. It was Yonten who spotted the land to the south, but Mayweather who gave the call. The shores of the new continent were green and verdant. As we followed the coastline east and south we came across the occasional village, but not any cities. The villages had oddly shaped buildings with flared roofs with deep green tiles. The inhabitants had the slight build, deeply tanned skin, dark hair, and pleasingly canted eyes of the Koreans, but the cut of their clothing and cadence of their conversation was different enough to ascertain these were a different people of similar race. Some days later we realized we had actually crossed the border between two different countries and peoples. Our only clue was a change in the colors of the roof tiles in the villages.

I had spread tales of the Koreans among the sailors, and some seemed confused by these other races of man. The Captain restored discipline through a drastic measure. Bjorn Baat was mercilessly flogged “as an example,” and died from his injuries. Theseus confided that night that he had overheard a conversation between the Captain and Baat shortly before the flogging. The Captain had figured out out band had formed influence over the crew and blamed Baat for “giving up the game.” Fear of the unearthing of of plans had an unexpected effect on Paul Wildemoon. He stepped down from his position as Navigator (Paxton stepped in), and took to sitting in the hold, keeping the still ailing Toppo and Willoughby company.

As we had seen no cites, we aimed westwards, back along the coast we had already charted and followed the shore as it turned south. Our supplies of water were now running low - the mechanism designed by the WIldemoons to extract salt from the seawater had been irreparably damaged in the last storm - and the crew became more unruly. Durand and Mayweather calculated rationing, while Theseus resorted to a trick he had discovered when travelling the deserts on the outskirts of Mughal lands - the pragmatic sailor shot seabirds from the air and drank the blood from their bodies with a gory grin. Yes, my dear, it sounds vile, but, perhaps he was the wisest of us all! For Paxton and others of the crew had resorted to licking the dew from the rails. Me? Me, my friends? I’m ashamed to admit I resorted to stealing extra rations of water from under the noses of the guards. Only through fresh water could I overcome the constant cramping which still inhibited me.

We rounded the southern tip of this new continent and traced the coast east. Finally, we saw in the distance the unmistakable form of an full city. The inhabitants seems excited to see our (to them) unfamiliar hull. We sailed into port under the flickering illuminations cast by roman candles. The sky was full of flowers of fire in all colors, and I joined the crew in gawping at the display. At the dock we were met by a green robed man, who leapt from his horse, smiling and bowing like a sycophantic servant. Under the ongoing bursts of color we laboriously attempted communication. Eventually the emissary made clear that he could gain us entry to the castle and audience with the Emperor of this land (or was it city) of Gansu, but, in trade he wanted our supply of unmounted falconettes. As Master of Guns, the decision was mine. Would anyone like to guess what I chose?

“Whatever, it was wrong?” Oh, L’reynard, for once you are correct. I chose to hand over the guns, and the traitorous men of Gansu turned them upon us! I bravely charged the purloined weapons and distracted the artillerists as the crew of the “L. C. Triumphant” ran for the safety of the ship. Durand’s leg was lacerated by shrapnel, and Janson von Jacobs was killed, but, things could have been far worse.

As we sailed south and east away from Gansu the enraged Captain sought a head in retaliation for my blunder. Here, my rapport with the crew paid off, for Bakker Vande was blamed and swung in my place. Still, in a sign that the Captain continued to suspect our band of intrigue, Bakker Vande was assigned the position of Chronicler, while a sailor Gilbert Durand had befriended - a lad called Jean-Palti Bouilon - took Durand’s duties as Master of Sails during Durand’s recovery.

We voyaged on, past the border on Gansu to the neighboring country until we came across another major city. Once more the people showed excitement at our arrival. A second display of fireworks lit the sky with streaks and streamers of rainbow fire. This was Jilin, and here we were greeted by a green jacketed man seated in an ornate palanquin. The grinning man nodded, and the slow processes of negotiations began anew. We were promised access to the palace in exchange for a supply of wine. The Quartermaster released the Bullingdon Bordeaux from our hold.

The representative clambered from the palanquin, inspected the bottles and laughed cheerfully. He led us, sailors and strange servants alike, in an impromptu parade along the docks to a nondescript warehouse, flourished a great key and opened the double doors. Within…. Thousands of bottles of wine and liquor. Ah, friends, I was torn between joy at the sight of so much blessed bounty, and weeping at the knowledge I would never sample a drop. Our contributions was added to the store, the door locked, then, with a flamboyant bow, we were presented with an ornate scroll, covered in complex, unfamiliar characters. The green jacketed man climbed back into his palanquin, and his servants bore him speedily away.

We returned to the ship where we worked through the night to decipher the alien runes. Eventually their meaning became clear. What we held was nothing more than a simple receipt…

For a brief time some hope was rekindled. Young Bouilon was on watch when a coterie of elaborately robed, elderly men approached the dock. In halting, broken speech their leader spoke to Bouilon. Wonder of wonders the men sought “Thee Doc-toro Mikel Rou-ee!” Doctor Michel Roux was a former Minister of Hygiene and a highly regarded Physic. The people of Jilin - again, I am unsure if that was the name of the city or country - suffered a skin plague. The Doctor was taken to the palace, alone. It was almost a full week before Schmitt Muller, who had once been known as a ruthless dock-master himself, informed the Captain that it seemed Roux had abandoned the crew. For his news, Muller was tossed into the brig overnight while we were ordered directly to sea.

The Captain set our course the long way around the continent - back past Gansu, then north to circle the entire continent. During this leg of the journey Paxton Wildemoon was summoned into a meeting with the Captain. Wildemoon brushed off the import of the meeting and called it routine. I suspect Wildemoon’s rapport with the Captain was deeper than let on…. The next day, Archbishop Bremman was re-assigned as Quartermaster while the formerly ruthless dock-master, Muller, was strung up from the yardarm until death. Like most hanged men, Muller Schmitt his pants.

Now, friends, I beg you, hold your applause and your groans! Instead, hold out your tankards for another round of ale!

Yes, this time we sailed around nearly the entire continent - a land far larger than our Europe - before we found the next major city. This was Hebei, and, for the third time, we were greeted with a lavish display of colorful pyrotechnics. This time we were met by a smiling man upon a camel. Would anyone care to guess the color of his vest? Green, le Sal? One would think, but no… Black, L’Reynard? No, that would be your soul. Orange, my dear? You cheat! You’ve heard this story before!

Ha, but the orange man actually spoke some garbled French! It seemed, while we sailed the long way around, word of our vessel had spread across the continent, along with a few words of our tongue. We were offered access to the palace in exchange for fine teak. Alas, that was a trade good we did not have aboard! However, the Emperor’s wife was gravid with child and sought a midwife. Wonder of wonders the Russian, Kezban, was trained as such! Even more wondrously, Kezban did not abandon the ship! Yes, ironically, through the actions of a man we had blackmailed and intimidated in order to divert the glory of discovery from Naples to France we, shortly after the birth of a healthy boy, negotiated a trading agreement with the Emperor’s Court of Hebei on the continent we learned was called “China.”

During the rest of our stay in China we were able to restock our provisions, study the Chinese sea charts, taking note of the prevailing trade winds, and, generally, relax. The always flamboyant Nathaniel Mayweather took a liking to the local garb and began adopting Chinese clothes and mannerisms. “So,” Bouilon joked, “the fop abandons brightly colored silks for brightly colored silks?”

Mayweather was as unruffled as ever. “Exactly right!” he proclaimed, while Yonten glowered. The servant class in Hebei had a distinctive haircut - shaven pate, with the hair on side and back gathered into a long braid. I suspect Yonten lacked Mayweather’s love for the look. It didn’t suit the angular planes of his Indus face.

We had succeeded at the letter of our mission - to find and open trade relations with one Asian power. Should we return to Europe and bask in our triumph, or should we push on, farther into the unknown, and perhaps increase our profits and glory with more well-made deals? Theseus felt there were as many as ten other lands out there we could trade with (the number came to him in a dream).

Well, friends, you’ve heard the stories of derring-do, so I’m sure you correctly anticipate our choice. We would sail on and discover new lands!

We circles China and struck out across the deep water, following the trade winds north. With our new knowledge we were able to avoid reef, pirate and storm and we were confident of our future success. We failed to heed the wisdom found in the Good Book, where the proverb is written, “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” Oh, we found another previously unknown continent, friends… And, from the hulls and sails of the vessels we passed it seemed that this was another Infidel land! Who knew how far those exotic people had travelled? Certainly much farther than any European before our journey!

Yes, we could see the coastline of the Infidel lands on the far horizon, even as we made landfall on a small island to replenish our water stocks and forage for fruit. Here we met with disaster. The landing party was swarmed by hundreds of savage tribesmen. We fought hard and slew dozens of the howling aborigines before finding ourselves overwhelmed. Bouilon was first to fall, followed by Theseus, then myself. Despite desperate and brilliant action by WIldemoon and Mayweather, they, too, were overwhelmed.

We were taken before someone who was most pleased to see us in irons. Any guesses, friends? Charles Queel? L’Reynard, you jest. I killed Queel, myself. Any other guesses? No? Well, then, I’ll let you mull it over for now. All will be revealed…. At the proper time in the tale.

Our captor was a vicious man.Oh, Wildemoon was released to an agent of Guinevere, the famed maker of the gold thread used by those of noble rank, and Mayweather, along with Yonten, was ransomed to his family. Such are the fortunes of the aristocrats. Alas, the rest of us were but “common” men. Although of uncommon skill and bravery, we lacked the riches of the upper classes. Young Jean-Palti Bouilon was killed out of hand for spitting in the eye of our revealed Rival. As for myself and Theseus… Well….Once more, all will be revealed at the proper time in the tale.

Still, bless Mayweather and Wildemoon! Those true and loyal men, once returned to France, wasted no time in putting together a new expedition. This time, their goal was not commerce, but rescue! Yes, friends, this calls for more rum! A toast to brave and true friends!

A galley was chartered, crewed, and began it’s long trek through the Infidel Spice Routes. The ship of salvation fought off pyrates at sea, picked up castaways from islands, battled bandits on land, and defeated a small army. Toasts were raised aboard their vessel when the news broke that Lord Berge du Destin - now Emperor of the Indus and Mughals - had married his fourth wife, uniting all four lands of the Indus and Mughal with France via the bonds of family! Yes, here, I think another toast to the Khan Bahadur, is in order!

All this I learned from a lordly fellow named Alphonse Armaud. Armaud was a friend of Nathaniel Mayweather’s from long ago. Alas, our foe played on their friendship. Armaud had been told Mayweather had arranged a celebration in his honor. Alas, the supposed celebration was a trap set by our captor. Armaud was thrown into the dripping hold where Theseus and I languished between bouts of torture… But here I get ahead of myself…

Over months of confinement and pain we had lost all sense of time. Theseus, Armaud and I had long before answered every question posed and divulged every secret known to us. Our cruel captor should have either executed or ransomed us ere then - but our antagonist had been driven mad with a sense of false persecution. He was a stranger in the land he now resided in. He was a traitor to his homeland and a betrayer of his oaths to the Church. His attempts to flee and begin a new life had been stymied, and, to this foul man, our long, protracted and cruel death was merely justified revenge, for we were in the power of the heretic, Baron Christian James IV of England.

The Baron was, of course, well aware of the rescue expedition, and he had plans for us. Theseus, Armaud and I found ourselves bound, gagged, and hooded and dragged up to the deck, then hoisted into the air. Was there a storm in the distance? Was the wind building to gale force? No, the rumbling in the air and the rocking of the ship was caused by cannon fire. I could hear the frenzied cries of battle. I could tell the vessel we were on was being boarded, and my heart leapt when I recognized the voices of the WIldemoon twins and Captain Nathaniel Mayweather below.

The hoods were ripped from the heads of we prisoners. Theseus, Armaud and I were trussed upon the mizzenmast trestle-tree. Below, our friends were engaged in battle. Mayweather was shouting “No quarter!” while Yonten’s blade stabbed towards any foolish enough the engage the resplendent Captain. I watched Wildemoon retrieve the drum from a fallen boy and begin to call out the tempo.

Then, the sailors on the mast with us pushed us off.

Theseus, Armaud and I had Barrels around our ankles, and nooses around our necks. I could hear the snaps Theseus and Armaud’s torments came to an end. And I… The rope around my neck had not been tied correctly. There was a horrible pressure on my neck, which, almost instantly, eased. For a brief time I was in sickening free-fall before I crashed down. I landed on my back, at the top lip of the barrel. There was another sickening snap, and my body exploded in pain.

Excuse me friends, I need a moment. Please join me in silent tribute to Theseus and Armaud. Raise you mugs, all! Ah, more rum, my dear? Yes, I shall…

…

I awoke hours later to see the faces of Mayweather, Yonten and the Wildemoons. The battle had been won. The bodies of Theseus, Armaud and others consigned to the depths. The Baron had been given the quick and clean death he had denied me - hung from the same trestle-tree I had been. I asked how the battle had been won, and Mayweather made me laugh with a ridiculous story of feeding a secret alchemical mixture to Capuchin monkeys, then unleashing them in battle where they would explode at the feet of the foe. Laughter brought fresh pain, and, over the voyage back to France the concerns of the Wildemoons had been born our.

Yes, friends, now you know how I, Lawrence LeRoux, who fought Captain Kidd, who was once called “Savior of Tours,” who defeated the feared swordsman, Charles, Queel, who helped open trade between the Kingdom of France and the Kingdom of Burma, and brother-in-arms to the very Emperor of the Mughal and Indus regions became as you see me now - twisted, and confined to this wheeled chair the Wildemoon brothers made for me - unable to walk after my spine was shattered across a disc of oak and iron.

Still, I try to keep smiling. I live. I have true friends. Captain Mayweather allots me more than enough gold to maintain a modest house, keep fed, and, of course, drink all the rum I need to dull the constant fire which burns in my back and belly. And, of course, I have you, my dear. You who sees past this crippled form to what’s left of the dashing and stout man I once was and appreciates what remains of my cunning and lordly demeanor.

Yes, friends, another toast to true friends! And, speaking of true friends, do my eyes deceive me? No, that is Yonten! Friends, a toast to Yonten! Has the Captain joined you this time? No? Well, perhaps the next! Rum, for Yonten! Oh, you prefer tea? No matter, I’ll drink this tankard for you, hah-hah! Yes, Yonten, I would be overjoyed for you to take me for a walk. We’ll remember the good times, and you can catch me up on events with the Captain.

It’s good to have true friends.

(Lawrence LeRoux)


Yours,