Summary: A.U.- Rizzoli & Isles on the High Seas; set in the age of wooden ships, privateers, pirates, and buccaneers.

A/N: Sailors knocked on the wood hull of their ships to listen for worm or rot; hearing a solid sound would imply that the hull was in 'ship shape'.
When in a conversation and a reference is made to 'good luck' they would
sometimes say 'touch wood' and touch some part of their wooden vessel. The
'good luck' they were implying refers to the luck they were having and were
hoping to have while their wooden hull held true and fast during their
voyages at sea.

A/N: Vincenzo is Italian for Vincent or Vince, Giovanna is Italian for Jane, Zio
is Italian for Uncle, Tomas is Italian for Thomas,Francisco is Italian for Frank
and Angelina is the name of the Brigantine ship.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words, a few original ideas, . Characters belong to TNT, Tess G,and Janet T.

Written for enjoyment. No copyright infringement intended.

"Wooden ships on the water, very free, and easy,
Easy, you know the way it's supposed to be,
Silver people on the shoreline, let us be,
Talkin' 'bout very free and easy..."

~ Wooden Ships by David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Paul Kantner

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Pas De Calais

Vincenzo Korsak ran his right hand along the wooden rail, its brass embellishments shining brightly. His large hands then caressed the soft wood, appreciating its fine texture, before lightly rapping his knuckles against the rail. The grey-haired man stood 5'7''; a stoutly-built, square-jawed fellow. Korsak was dressed for cold wet weather; a warm worsted wool coat, woollen shirt, and trousers tucked securely into knee-high, black boots. Two plain dagger hilts sheathed in the top of the boots hinted at his mercenary past.

"Portare fortuna, bring us luck." He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the sea air.

Korsak squinted his steel-blue eyes, looking out at the pink and orange sky. He pulled a brass cylinder from a leather pouch that hung on a lanyard around his thick neck. The grizzled man opened the three camber tube and raised it to one eye, sweeping the horizon.

Booted footsteps and a hand on his shoulder alerted Korsak that his solitary watch was over.

A slightly taller woman handed the older man a pewter mug, steam curling from it in the dawn chill. Her figure was slim and athletic, almost boyish save for the slight swell of her hips and breasts. Most of her black hair was tied back with a red bandana and she was kitted out in similar clothing. On her right hip was a short sabre sheathed in a worn scabbard.

"Giovanna, noici saremo domain."

"In English, Zio Vincenzo," the lissome, raven-haired woman rasped out.

"Jane, we will be there tomorrow."

"Si, er... yes, Uncle, tomorrow and tomorrow. Calais was not profitable."

Jane paced slowly and waved her hands as she spoke. "The crew's share cannot be reduced. They have experience now, more than I thought possible when we found them in Barcelona. The flu epidemic chases us from our home in Genoa and leaves more orphans in its wake. Tomorrow, uncle, we may lose our crew." Jane groaned, deflated, and leaned on the railing beside her uncle.

"Jane, you worry too much," replied the older man. "This crew will not abandon us, we're their family now."

"Angelina needs a refit. Will Dover be warm? We could re-seal the top decks
if it is warm. We are boat wrights, uncle. The boys have to practice the trade."

Jane strode back and forth along the railing. "A commission in England must be found. Tomas and Francisco need new boots, new clothes, and new teachers. You and I cannot pound algebra, languages, and manners into them. My brothers must read and write in Italian, French, and English if we are to ever be builders of boats again." Jane was tapping her left foot when she snapped, "Zio รจ sciocco sogno."

The crinkling skin at the corners of his eyes gave away his smile before it even reached his lips. Korsak smirked before sipping from his mug,"In English, Jane. You must start to call your brothers by English names. Thomas and Frank will learn all they need to be guild-men, or we will buy into the guild. It is not a foolish dream."

Jane rolled her eyes as she pushed away from the rail and marched back and forth; her hair escaped bit by bit from the confines of the bandana with the frantic movement,
"No merchant will deal with me, no matter if I bind my chest and wear britches. These men, these merchants, are not all fools. I have no beard!"Jane continued to pace the deck, her loose hair whipping around her face every time she did a sharp about-turn. She was agitated and breathing rapidly. Her words came faster as her bluster persisted, arms waving wildly with each annoyed declaration, "They see me as a boy in a man's suit. The last one called me 'a beardless captain with a crew of lost boys'. So tell me again that Dover will be warm enough."

Korsak pursed his lips, then, after a deep sigh, continued to drink his warm ale. Jane needed to rage against her fate, needed to shout and stomp before she could accept what was offered and use it to their advantage. Jane could adjust her tactics, but like a magnificent, racing stallion she needed to expend nervous energy before going into a race.
"England is in flower now. Our Angelina is sailing with the current and a strong wind, mia ragazza. She is a convivial brigantine. The crew will not need to man the oars; we will save that for if we hit a patch of doldrums between here and England."

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Dover, England - Earl and Lady Fairfield's City House.

"Garrett, I'm pregnant." Maura's hazel eyes glittered in the dawn light. "We do not need to engage in coitus again this morning."

Softly spun golden curls lay upon creamy, round shoulders, her pink camisole demurely covering her torso.

"That may be true, wife of mine," the rumpled, blonde man replied, "but I have wedded you and I intend to bed you thoroughly and often. It would be social suicide if I were to engage in coitus as per my normal particularities."

He grinned as he surveyed the peas sized bruises on her biceps before his eyes rose further to meet her look of contempt.

"My flesh is more than willing this morning; I don't care a whit if you picture that lovely Negro navigator from our trip. He was a dish I would have hot or cold." His fingers stroked her hand and wrist, before wandering up to trace lightly over a bruise. He licked his full lips.

Maura huffed as she rose from the bed, "Husband, I'm shocked that you think I'm imagining him or anyone else during coitus."

"I heard you calling out Freeman over and over while we did it." The aristocrat countered.

"Freedom, Garrett," snapped Maura, "not Freeman. Per our arrangement, once pregnant and after delivery of your heir I am free. That is to say, as free as I can be given our social obligations. The child and I can travel and pursue scientific interests. You can enjoy your normal particularities with men, women, or... carriages, if you so wish."

"I do intend to honor our arrangement," Garrett smirked. "come now, Maura, you told me that I am the pinnacle of masculine allure. Anatomically pleasing, and intellectually stimulating. You blathered on about my superior bone structure; 'more pleasing than Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man' I believe you said."

Maura gazed at the semi-nude man; his shiny blonde hair upon his head, the red gold of wisps of hair upon his arms and broad chest. She moved back to him and, reaching out, she ran her index finger along the top band of his defined abdominal muscles.

"Morning coitus does put you in a better frame of mind, I suppose." Her fingers moved downward and slowed before disappearing below the sheet that still covered his lower half,"You are the very devil when you don't get your way."

He snarled as he pulled her body firmly back to his, "I am the devil who taught you pleasure and pain."