Bloody Bill Flint

It's a quote by Tim the Enchanter from Monty Python and The Holy Grail. Here's the full actual quote: "Follow. But. Follow only if ye be men of valour, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived. Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth!"

But follow only if ye be warriors o' valor, for death waits for you with nasty, pointy teeth!

*Takes his Captains place at the desk* C'mon lads, make yer mark. Adventure and treasure await.

If'n it pleases ye Cap'n I'll mind the desk fer a minute and see to the signing of the Articles

Having stood by and attended to his other duties while the gun crews had gone through their paces, Bill felt that itch in his blood. The itch to keep his skills sharp that only the fighting man knows. When the crews had finished Flint kindly requested some berth on the weather deck and collected the Marines currently aboard for drills. He had no real authority to do so, but the other Marines were more than happy to defer to his wisdom and experience. This pleased Bill for it was his intent that they be the best fighters that they could. He also invited any other interested parties among the crew to join them, and a few did. He drilled them in musketry, and the nasty business of taking another's life up close a personal during a boarding. Again he concentrated on the axe and the knife which, wielded in tandem, produced efficient if brutal results. He was a harsh task master, almost as harsh as the Captain running gunnery drills, but he was no less encouraging. Many who had thought themselves more than capable of handling themselves in a scrap were in awe of the Redlegs' knowledge of the martial arts. He was with them, teaching them in body, but in his mind he was back in Akwesasne* Which suddenly brought him back to the issue of the Sachem's tomahawk. He abruptly ended the drills and politely dismissed them back to their duties. He went below decks to his berth and withdrew the hatchet from his sea chest. If this was here in Martinique then the great peace was broken. He had to find a way to guide the fleet back to the colonies. He sat pondering when he remembered a land grant in Manhattan amongst the Ilex fortune. When the time was right he would approach the Captains on the matter. He replaced the weapon back amongst his belongings and returned to the deck. * Akwesasne is the Mohawk word for their traditional homelands which once stretched from Eastern Ontario in the north to upstate New York in the south as well as included parts of what is now Quebec and Vermont. Today most Mohawks reside near Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence river. Interestingly the original name of the tribe is not Mohawk but Kanien'kehá:ka which means "People of the Flint". There are various theories as to why the Mohawk were called the "Mohawk" by Europeans. One theory holds that the name "Mohawk" was bestowed upon the tribe by German mercenaries and immigants settled near Fort Orange in Mohawk Valley that were fighting with the British troops, who, mistaking by a personal pidgin in relation with others they had intertwined, derived the well known pronunciation for the Kanien'kehá:ka tribe as "Moackh". An English language corruption of pronunciation turned the original Mohawk Valley German-Dutch pidgin of the Kanien' kehá:ka name into the current pronunciation of "Mohawk". A widely-accepted theory is that the name is a combination of the Narraganset word for "man-eaters" (Mohowawog), the Unami term for "cannibal-monsters" (Mhuweyek), an Algonquin term for "ate living creatures" (Mohowaugs), and the Ojibwe term for "bears" (Mawkwas) . The Dutch referred to the Mohawk as Maquasen, or Maquas. To the French they were Agniers, Maquis, or simply Iroquois.

*cough*pier pressure*cough,cough*

Bill arrived at the dock with his prisoners in time to catch the last of the starboard watch coming ashore and was able to board the boat for the return trip to The Heron. He sat his charges across from himself and kept his pistols trained on them at all times. "Wot's all this Bill?" inquired Nick Johnson who was acting as the boatheader. The big Marine answered without taking his eyes from McCormick or O'Madden. "Brawlin' in public" Johnson gave a knowing nod and they continued their trek to The Heron. Upon reaching their destination Bill was at first surprised to find the Captain and the Coxswain waiting on them. Then he realized that they were rather tardy. The ships officers took immediate notice of the fact that Flint brought the other two men aboard at gunpoint. The Captain raised a questioning eyebrow. "Wot's all this then Mr. Flint?" "Just doing my duty as a Marine sar, caught these two in a public brawl." "Fisticuffs? O'er wot?" But one whiff of the two prisoners breath told The Heron's master all he needed to know for the moment. "Very well, confine these two ta quarters 'til I have the time ta deal with 'em" "Aye Sar" The Redlegs knuckled his brow and signaled two of the Marines to take the prisoners away and followed them into the crew's quarters to see they were properly secured. Once below decks he conferred with Andrew Smyth and Maurice Roche and established a rotation of the guard on the prisoners. Although Flint had no real authority over them the two Larboard Marines were happy to defer to Bill's knowledge and experience in such matters. Andrew drew first watch and Bill and Maurice made their way topside to report to the Captain.

Having been released from his duties accompanying Captain Brand, Bill reverted to his status as a Marine. He wandered the thoroughfare and stopped frequently in the public houses to ensure that the fleet's crew kept a proper demeanor. While he of all people certainly begrudged no man nor woman their hard earned leisures, he also new full well the kind of trouble the pursuit of the same could bring on a ships crew. More than once The Dreadnaught had been commissioned by a local governor to see a merchant out of the harbor for other than safety's sake. He resolved not to see the fleet leave under ill terms. For the most part the crew were behaving themselves and merely enjoying the time ashore after weeks at sea. That is until he reached the door of the rather appropriately named Le Poney qui pisse. The assault on his olfactory senses nearly turned him away and challenged his fortitude mightily. The decision of whether to risk entry or no was made for him as the door gave way and pair of bodies rolled out and stopped at his feet in a flurry of fisticuffs, twisting over each other like a pair of snakes writhing in the street. The Redlegs stooped and hauled the two to their feet by their shirt fronts. He lifted them bodily off Terra Firma so that each was was standing upon the tips of his toes and struggling to remain so. Upon closer inspection he found himself faced with Jonas McCormick and Cyrus O' Madden. They in turn most certainly recognized him. The two Englishmen began to give excuses for the state they were found in, but a sharp hiss told them the big Marine would hear no argument and that they would stand tall before the mast. Bill stopped a small boy passing by and pressed a coin into his hand after eliciting an oath to post haste seek out Captain Lasseter at the house of the Chirurgeon and deliver the message that Mr. Flint intended to return them to the ship and have them confined until such time as they could be dealt with properly. He then turned the two 'round, affixed his mighty grip to their collars and frog marched them along the long path back to the Heron's berth.

Nathan slumped, arms folded, in his chair, brooding. How could he have been such a fool? Murin would never stoop so low as to acknowledge his affections. After all he was a Metis, a half blood. Even in his own lands he was regarded with some disdain, though there were those such as Bill Flint who held his orgins to be of little import and accepted him for the good soul that he was. But now he was drunk and very little of his genial spirit was presently manifest. How could she do this to him? After all he had done for her. To simply cast his feelings for her aside, and take up with this stranger she barely knew. A man who only days before had been there prisoner, who like as not would probably not be treating her quite so well had the outcome of the battle been different. And then there was his mannerisms, though he'd made no mention of it the man obviously came from some money. Having been their whipping boy most of his life he knew the wealthy when he came upon them. Could Murin not see this? If she could then that made her a hypocrite with the way she had once railed against the wealthy in his presence. Regardless they'd both embarrassed him and now hatred had taken firm root in his heart. "No, no, I'm only angry because I'm drunk. This means nothing between them." However he quickly convinced himself otherwise. He saw how Murin sought the man out like a love sick pup. No, she cared nothing for him now. Now there was only Alder Wenge. Nathan spat and rose from his seat to search for another pub, there to drown his sorrows until the time came to return to the ship. As he stepped outside he cast his glance skyward and made a vow that never again would give either of them the hour of the day. "Arms length Nate, that's the way of it." As he also promised himself that as soon as an opportunity for passage back to New England presented itself he would take it and be rid of their infernal company for good. "Cursed be the name of Alder Wenge and cursed be the name of Murin McDonough." Soon there after he found a different watering hole and established himself among a merry lot and quite forgot the despicable duo.

Fabulous choice. For me it would have to be Vinnie Jones (Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels/ Snatch/ Eurotrip/ Gone in 60 Seconds) (chuckle) Approval is always appreciated lad. Not so much for her Irish looks mind you but her fine Celtic temperment which so nicely mirrors m'own. My Robert and I were always teased about our *John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara* relationship ( The Gods rest him sweetly...) Hmmmmm.... would not trade the shortened years with him for a life time with anyone else. Beautifully put. Thank you for sharing with us Bess. I've always thought Ms. O'Hara and The Duke went well together. Especially in Big Jake.

Fabulous choice. For me it would have to be Vinnie Jones (Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels/ Snatch/ Eurotrip/ Gone in 60 Seconds)

After the song had been sung and the pints drained, the quartet from the Heron rose and headed out into the thoroughfare. Bill tucked the Sachem's tomahawk into his belt. He bid his comrades adieu and set out for the Watch Dog intent to report in to the Master at Arms before returning to the Heron. He was so caught in his foul mood that the whirling sea of humanity about him escaped his notice until someone grabbed his wrist. With blinding speed he plucked the hatchet from its perch at his waist with the intent of burying it in the interlopers face, but caught himself short when he saw who it was. "Billy, I've been screaming myself blue to get your atten-Where did you get that?" Nathan Bly asked. It took several seconds for Bill's jaw to work and then a few more to realize how foolish he looked, about to cleave Nathan in twain, and worst yet Murin McDonough had seen the whole thing and now gaped at him slack jawed and wide eyed. He loosed himself of Bly's grip in a rather more surly manner than he intended. Seeing the hurt and confusion on Nathan's face he mumbled an apology and fled towards the wharf without any explanation whatsoever.

Upon rising the next morning. Bill Flint set about the business of finding a replacement for the boarding axe lost to the waves during Tawny's escape. He found a smithy, by sound rather than advertisement for while his command of the French tongue would pass for an Acadian anywhere in New France his grasp of the written language was marginal at best. Upon entry of the shop he was greeted by a mountain of a man with arms like a pair of oaks, and a face half hidden by a beard. " Bonjour a vous l'etranger " said the smith " Et bon jour à vous aussi " replied Flint " Mon nom est Hugh de Parralde, et je suis le maître de cette forge. Que vous amène-t-il à ma porte ? " was the next reply. " Je suis dans le besoin d'une hache d'embarquement. Vous avoir à vendre ? " Hugh cocked his massive head to one side detecting an accent neither native to the island, nor the old world. " Je mendie le plus humblement votre pardon bon monsieur, mais vous êtes de Nouvelle France oui ? " Somewhat taken aback and more than a little cranky after failing to locate Tawny, Bill snapped back "Does this change the price of our dealings Monsiuer !?" He realized with a start that he had spoken in English. Which was not a problem as de Parralde answered him in the same tongue. "Non Monsiuer, but although you have asked me for a sailor's axe I feel you may be more interested in this........ And with that he produced a tomahawk, not just any tomahawk but one that the Redlegs was intimately familiar with. Flint swallowed the rising lump of anger in his throat. "Now where did you get that?" The menace in Bill's voice went completely unheeded or perhaps was ignored by the smith. "A trader that passed this way not long ago, if you are interested I will give you a good price" Bill was sorely tempted to simply slay the man and take the tomahawk. But He was neither or murderer nor could the frenchman possibly understand its significance. After haggling they settled on payment and Bill left the forge in a dark mood. Out in the thoroughfare he came upon Peter Hurgronje and two other members of the Heron's crew whose names he presently could not bring to mind. The men invited him to join them in the nearest pub for a few last pints before returning to duty. At first he was moved to decline, but thought better of it. Perhaps the numbness of imbibing would grant temporary reprieve from his current troubles. So imbibe they did. After a few cups one of the crewmen, an irishman, was moved to song. He sang Garryowen the name of his home town in the emerald isle. Bill was familiar with the tune and joined in as did several other merchant sons of Eire who were in the pub. However none of the revelers present could know that some five score and seventy-two years hence this merry tune would be the last thing a yet unborn generation of Flint's and Hurgronje's would ever hear on this earth as they rode to their doom under the command of a mad irishman at a lonely place that would come to be called The Little Bighorn.

Happy Birthday Maeve. Best wishes to you and William on your special day.

Flint looked at Hawkes for a moment chewing the inside of his right cheek, afraid to admit he might have missed. Not out of pride but rather because he knew well the kind of damage escaped prisoners cause, how they could become so vengeful that they could harry one worse than any blood hound. "If I've missed I accept what punishment the company shall deem fit". Jonathan knew from his tone it was Bill's final piece on the matter.

Bill Flint found through the course of their somewhat stilted conversation that Manus was not a bad man, just somewhat rough around the edges and a little more unapproachable. They were so wrapped in talking that they entirely overlooked the commotion on The Dog and Siren's shot jolted them like a thunder clap. Manus' only observance was a long string of entirely unrepeatable oaths. That something was amiss was lost on neither man and the two searched in earnest for some sign of what was going on. It was then that Manus saw him. "Man in the water he said", elbowing Flint in the ribs to gain his attention. Bill quickly found the point Hingerty indicated. Having been aboard The Heron at the time of Tawny's capture he was wholly unaware of the man's existence. He was sure the last of the prisoners had gone ashore already, yet here was someone trying to make good an escape from their company. Mr. Pew had given strict orders regarding attempted escapes...... Tawny continued laughing as he made his bid for freedom. He planned to simply slip aboard one of the other ships at berth nearby as he had The Dog. Unfortunately in the dark and unfamiliar harbor the ship he chose was The Maastrict. An uncharacteristic sea bird's call momentarily drew his gaze skyward where he chanced to see a shooting star. "This be a good sign Tawny, a good sign indeed." With a loud war whoop that startled even Manus Hingerty, the Redlegs let fly with the modified boarding axe he'd taken to carrying. Tawny realized with a start that the shooting star he'd taken as providence was headed directly for him and dove below the water. When he didn't resurface Bill Flint was satisfied that his aim was true. No body floated lifeless below but neither was there a fleeing swimmer. Something gnawed at Bill that perhaps not all was quite right, but he could find no evidence that his attack had failed. Grudgingly he turned from the rail and consigned the man's soul to the deep. Hingerty made final pronouncement by spitting a large lump of something disgusting over the side and nonchalantly returning to his duties, his conversation with the big marine now entirely forgotten.

As the darkness gathered many of those aboard The Maastricht found themselves wishing to be ashore. Longing for the delights to be found there. Bill Flint was not among that number. He'd never really cared much for towns and cities having spent most of his life living in one Mohawk village or another. It was there that his thoughts now wondered. Vividly recalling the days spent hunting in the forest, taking long walks absorbing the knowledge of his mentor, the great chief Ongeswasgone, but most especially of a lovely dark skinned girl whom he bitterly wondered if he would ever see again. He was so lost in his thoughts that the query was repeated before he returned to the moment and even then he so shocked that at first he couldn't answer. "How'd you get them?" Bill hadn't heard Manus Hingerty utter so much as two words to anyone before now. Bill's gaze followed to where Manus' crooked left finger pointed and realized he was inquiring about the tattoos that covered his forearms. "Indians", he replied. "Indians?" Hingerty returned "Aye" said Flint "You mean the red men, you've seen them?...I mean up close n' all?" Manus' excitement was palpable. Flint shifted weight back a step and cocked his head to one side unsure of what to make of this development.

And unbeknownst to all as he spoke those words, Bill Flint was parroting them aboard The Heron. Then he added "Marines, not to claim any authority on such matters, but unless I miss my guess it will be our duty to keep the peace while in port. I urge you to be an example to all who lay eye on us. Comrade and stranger alike. Show the world that you are proud of our ship, our crew, but most paramount that you are proud of yourselves." He was greeted with an enthusiastic "Aye!" from the marines. Clearing his throat he added "And to our shipmates, please do not test our resolve in performing our duties while you enjoy this much needed time ashore." he said this with a smile and was greeted with a slightly less enthusiastic, but nonetheless firm "aye" from the nearby crew. In truth none of those who'd seen him in battle wished to test Bill Flint's resolve on anything whatsoever.

As the crew prepared to make sail and finish the journey into the port, Bill Flint took stock of the marines aboard. It came to him that they should have uniforms, something that would mark them as unique to their small fleet. Thinking upon he decided it would be best to address Murin McDounough once they were ashore and see if she would be willing to sew some uniforms if he purchased the necessary supplies.

Bill Flint went about drilling the marines with great gusto. All them absorbed the lessons quickly and were able to demonstrate the required tasks on demand without prompt. The Redlegs had taken the liberty of modifying a few of The Heron's boarding axes so that they more closely resembled the tomahawk favored by the colonials for close combat. This he showed them how to use in tandem with the long knife to great effect. Steadily many of the off duty sailors began to gather round and observe the training. The practically tripped over themselves when Bill invited them to join in. On fellow in particular showed great potential and Bill would have picked him first should they need additional marines. "What's yer name mate?" "Peter...Peter Hurgronje, myn heer" "Well, Peter I was wondering if you'd be so good as to assist me in a further demonstration?" "Ov course, Heer Flint it vould be myn honor" Flint had taught them all he knew of weapons, now he would teach them to fight and kill with empty hands. For the next hour he taught them how. With regualr practice Bill knew these men would have no equal in all the world and their small fleet could strike with impunity and take nearly any prize they desired.

Having received the answer he'd hoped for The Redlegs knuckled his brow with a wide grin. "Grammercy Captain." He spun sharply on his heel and returned to his duties, but already his mind was full of the lessons he would impart to his fellows. He would teach them to fight as he had learned to during the long conflict against the French and Algonquins. The colonial way of warfare. Short, fast, and brutal, with none of the formality found in the old world. Even now he was mentality adapting the techniques to naval warfare. These would be a new class of marine, unrivaled anywhere in the world. His heart filled with a burst of pride and he went about his business.

As the captain came on deck Bill Flint took the opportunity to push his agenda which brought him aboard The Heron in the first place. "Captain if I may be so bold as to beg a boon with you I should like to schedule some time to train the marines in their duties before we make landfall. Indeed considering the performance of the ships original crew during the boarding perhaps a little traing for all is in order?"

Bill Flint strolled about the deck making his rounds. From time to time he glanced at the other ships nearby. Four of The Dog's Marines had been sent to the Heron, and suddenly he was struck with inspiration. Why not take this opportunity on the trip to Martinique to help hone the skills of those marines? Looking about for the Captain he could not locate him nor the Master at Arms. However he did spy his friend Eric Franklin who was The Dog's Sergeant at Arms. "Eric, I'm gonna cross over to the Heron and keep Mr. Lasseter company enroute to Martinique, and use the time te drill tha Marines that 'r aboard...." he caught himself mid-sentence "...er, request permission to do so" The Banshee scratched his chin in thought for a moment. "Don' see the harm, worse ken happen Mr. Lasseter sends ye back, permission granted n' I'll account for ye." Redlegs knuckled his brow and made his way to the cutter which was in the process of transferring some powder from the ships magazine to The Heron

I'll have some of everything and something to wash it all down if'n ye please, I'm starving.

At the Bosun's command Bill raced into the rigging like a panther up a tree. Others were already busy fisting in the parted sail, so Flint headed for the topyard to free the head of the sail. When the rest had finished in their task Bill began to release the fastenings holding the head to the topyard. He was so consumed in his task that he didn't notice the other individual asisting him until the two met half way. It was Jonas. The two shared a long stare until Bill nodded and returned to the job at hand.