Thread: Abandon All Hope.... (Casket and Victorian Virtue)

Gwen finished packing her luggage, which consisted of a steamer trunk and several large bags and she looked at the massive collection and wondered if she'd over packed but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came into her head. One could never know what they truly need while traveling abroad and it was better to have something and not need it than vice versa. One final item which she kept in her nightstand dresser would complete her packing. She opened the drawer and pulled out the Philadelphia Derringer she'd kept in there since she'd received the American pocket pistol via mail order. Staring at it in her hand, she'd never actually fired the thing, but she felt safer knowing it was there, and now traveling to a foreign land and engaging a man with the reputation that Blanchmere had she would rather feel safe than sorry. Holding the derringer delicately between her lace gloved thumb and forefinger she dropped it into her clutch and tucked the small bag under her arm. Packed and ready to travel she called down to the front desk and had the doorman fetch her bags, to which they and herself were delivered to the Royal Victoria docks where she was directed to her steamer. As she approached the grouping of a several large prestigious ocean liner her mind raced with thoughts of grand adventures but they were quickly dashed by the dockmaster when he informed her that her ticket was for a far more humble vessel. Upon seeing the slightly shabby vessel and peering upon it's name she got an ominous feeling that swept over her. The Canterbury was a small-medium sized vessel which looked as though it had seen many a hard voyage and Gwyneth had to wonder if the thing was truly sea worthy. She approached the Captain and introduced herself to the swarthy looking man with some hesitation. His name was Captain William Wilson and he informed her that his ship was indeed seaworthy and although his crew consisted of Spanish Moors they were well tested and quite competent, which did little to ease her worried mind. She clutched her purse against her side as she ascended the gangway and felt the hard bulge of her derringer against her ribs which brought her little comfort. One of the crewmen whose complexion was as dark as Black Pete himself showed her to her quarters, a modest room with a single cot and small writing desk but little else in the way of creature comforts. When the man left her, she attempted to shut her cabin door and lock it but found the latch was disabled. Just another ominous sign in a series of them that was hinting at dark cloud that was foreshadowing this endeavor. Once settled in and the ship left port Gwen grew restless and journeyed out onto the ships deck. It was obviously far more of a commercial freight vessel than one designed for passenger transport and she had to watch her step as the men of the crew worked eagerly to secure their load. She found her way to the stern of the ship where she found a small deck relatively uncluttered by men or cargo. It was here she was beginning to wonder if she was the only passenger on the ship when she saw the slightly rough looking gentleman approaching. Although dressed fairly well his clothes looked slightly disheveled and he wore dark circles under the eyes of his handsome face. Obviously not a crew member, Gwen had to assume he was a fellow passenger and approached with her hand outstretch in greeting. Hello good sir, My name is Gwyneth Alger, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I'm traveling to Italy, Trino actually, on assignment for 'the Illustrated', of which I'm a reporter of some note, maybe you've read some of my work. She said, backwardly throwing the brag out.