William Brand

The Watch Dog

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Rummy notices the gathering on deck and her curiosity takes over her inclination to play the flute. She tucks her instrument away behind her belt and leans over the shoulder of PEW just as he rolls the dice. Great thunder emerges from the group as his winning toss resulted in an almost impossible result. "You know, lads, I am Irish and luck goes with me~" Rummy grins with a twinkle in her eyes as ten eyes direct attention her way.

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The Watch Dog moved at a pace equal to her design. The wind had improved greatly, and she was making almost ten knots when William came up on the quarterdeck. Nigel Brisbane, standing at the handwheel, looked positively delighted. Nigel had always known a fondness for the sea, but standing at the wheel of the Watch Dog was an uncommonly fine thing in his estimation and he said as such to the Captain.

"Aye." was William's singular reply, having reached the same understanding at the ripe old age of ten aboard the Namir under the tutelage of the Mahdi. Though it had been a tiller then and not a wheel, William had still enjoyed the responsibility to the fullest, and had gone on to be Coxswain of half a dozen able ship's, including the great lumbering Hammerhead. It was on that great Dutch Merchantman that William had been at his strongest, for it took a steady man of considerable grip to bring the Hammerhead about. Metivier, the other Coxswain of the same ship, had been a man of such stature that he once maintained the wheelhouse unaided in a considerable gale.

The wind stalled a moment then and the sound of laughter reached William's ears from amidships. He went forward down upon the gundeck to find several lads and two masters bent over a barrel at a game of dice. Mister Pew straightened at once and the whole party stood up in a sudden quiet. William bent and plucked up the dice and straightened again, bouncing the dice in one hand, his other hand cocked behind his back. His face was a mask of pretended consideration.

"Dice, Cap'n." Mister Pew said in a matter of fact way that came across as an explanation, question and invitation all at the same time.

Mister Smyth tried not to smile and utterly failed at it. The Master Carpenter greeted him warmly, her face smiling from her most recent lucky toss. Thatcher looked a little nervous, having caught hell for being at dice once before on another ship. Bill Flint, fresh from the Royal Navy, stood slightly removed, but near enough to be wary of the situation. All the while William bounced the dice.

"A bit of 'armless fun to pass the time, Cap'n."

William regarded Mister Pew with a squint, not because of any scrutiny on his part, but due to the sun which had come up, for William was still adjusting to the light above decks. Still, this squint went a long way in deepening Mister Thatcher's discomfort.

"Aye." was all that William said after a time. "I can see that a ruling must be made in regards to dice aboard the Watch Dog." The Captain let the comment hang in the air for an ominous two minutes as he paced about with the dice in his hand. Every time his back was to the group, Louis Morrell would make a mock of Mister Thatcher, putting on a dour face while wringing his hands. Smyth had to cough to keep his smile from becoming to wide and Mister Pew gave Morrell a hard elbow. Rummy gave Mister Flint a smile that said 'Not to worry, lad. The Captain isn't as those you're used to'.

When William had finished several slow revolutions, he returned to the circle and fished out a small coin of his own, placing it on the barrel. The surprised looks in their faces melted into smiles and exchanged looks as they too placed bets on the next roll. William tossed, won and gathered up his winnings so quickly, one might have thought he could foresee the future. He had of course spent those two minutes pacing in an examination the dice and not the decision to let them play or not play at them. An incorrigible gypsy by the name of Tshurkurka had taught him a great deal of dice and their sometimes less than random ways.

William had a bemused hint of a smile. He tossed the dice to Mister Pew who caught them deftly. "We'll make land soon. A few more tosses and then to your duties."

"Aye-aye." They all said aloud as William made his way aft again, pocketing his winnings. Thatcher let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

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The Surgeon vissually followed William's movement to the door and beyond then reached forward to the China wrought vessel near at hand. Tipping it to proper angle and discovering that nothing but a single drop was to be had, it was placed to the side with a sigh. The Ward was silent but for the soundings of frigate's passage and after a time, she looked across the table's breadth to Dorian.

"You look to be exhausted..."

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He blinked at her and smiled...

"Nay, Gerl... A couple hours from it.... an' th' breakin' o' fast helped... We gonna see th' Ilse soon... Once we do, I'll take my ease... An' since ye say yer sleep was troubled, an' yer charges 'r on th' mend, mayhaps you should do th' same..."

He reached for his tankard, then remembered it was empty...

"Hmm... I could use more Caife'... Would ye like me ta get another fill for ye as well?"

"Merci..."

"Right... be a moment..."

He stood and picked up his tankard, then walked to her side, picked up her pot and made his way out and to the Galley...

"Mr. Gage... a refill o' Caife' if ye please... Thankee..."

As Gage filled the request by the QuarterMaster, he again stiffled a yawn. Once the vessels were filled, Thanks were given again and he departed, returning to the Wardroom.

"Here we be... allow me, yer 'umble servant..."

Dorian set his tankard on the table and reached out for her cup, brushing her daint hand with his weather roughened one. He momentarily hesitated, then slowly took the cup and filed it with the dark lliquid...

"Ah... there we be... fresh from th' cookpot..."

"Merci, Dorian...."

"M'pleasure..."

Again he took seating and drank from his tankard... He watched as Tempest slowly took many sips from her china cup, knowing that her mind was elsewhere, but not sure if she wanted solitary space to contemplate such...

"Well, M'dear... I would return to th' deck, unless you wish my company?"

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Her brow furrowed in smallish bearing, "If duty requires your attention, I will not tell you to remain...Sleep? An interesting concept and a mythical beast at times..."

She glanced to the stern screen briefly before continuing, "I am sure that all are pleased to return to blue water's depth and that the prospects of the near future have caused excitement. William seems to have gained a certain glow of anticipation about his person."

She shifted in seating, but held his gaze steadfast.

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::Watching the Cap'n roll the dice in his hand made the dice seem smaller than what they really were. Each of us looked at the other not knowing what to expect.

With a winning toss, the crew erupted in a hearty laugh and cheer for the Captain all at once.

"Alright lads ya 'eard the Cap'n. One more toss and ye best be off ta yer post. Mr. Thatcher, ifin ye be returnin' tha dice ta me when yer done, I wouldst appreciate it. Lads." I stand and move my stool back next to Bloody Thunder. "I must attend to Mr. Flint."

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"M'Duty, has been done for th' eve, yet I would like ta see 'r destination afore headin' ta bed... William is on deck along wi' Mr. Badger... SO, I am at yer disposal..."

He held her gaze, trying to catch a glimpse of what was behind her facade. Taking a chance, he put fourth one thought.

"It has only been hours... I miss Armand too..."

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The burn threatened again at name's mention and she looked to the China pot distractedly. Inhaling deeply in attempt to keep focus and composure, she filled what little emptiness there existed in cup's keeping to buy time.

"I..."

A crease disrupted the smooth plain of brow, " I do as well and will continue to do so for much time, I fear...We have rarly been separated for any great legnth and the burden of such a thing is...overwhelming."

She attempted a weak smile which failed half way into its intent.

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He returned the smile and nodded his head...

"He's a goode man... an' he's in goode hands... But, aye... you as well as I will think on 'im, worry on 'im... But wi' th' knowledge that he can take very goode care o' himself... "

Dorian stood and slowly walked over to Tempest. He laid his right hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"He's safe... and well... I feel it... "

He then lifted his fingers to her chin and tilted her head towards him.

"Whate'er ye need... I's here... gonna freshen up a wee in m' cabin..."

He let his hand linger and trace across her cheek, again gently put it on her shoulder and gave another squeeze. Slowly he paced to the door and just as slowly opened it, stepped through and eased it shut. He stood there and rubbed his eyes, took another gulp of coffee, then took the two broad paces to his cabin door...

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Jacquelyn's attention lingered on the closed door after Dorian's departure and after the passages of minutes more, gathered the China burden and made way to outer area. She hesitated briefly at his cabin entrance, reaching forward to knock lightly on its surface then pulling back before doing so. The Irlandais monsuier puzzled her at times, belaying her more sensible outlooks of the world. There were things that she wished to share, to give lumination to the shadows that lay guarded so closely. Dorian never asked, never goaded or pried in regard to the unknown which made his company ever more treasured and she felt a time would come when all would be spoken.

Continueing on, she thought to return into sailcloth comfort but upon replacing her burden into secure keeping, decided that private quarters were disquieting to the soul. Moving on to the Surgery, she found Nathan in better spirits and awake, his companion in near cot asleep. The Colonial asked questions of general subject matter, soon confessing that he felt a bit tierd and thought perhaps a small catnap would suit.

Assured of her guests' comfort and well being, it suddenly struck her that as of yet this day, hide nor hair of new companion had been viewed.

It was obvious that Chanault had been in private quarters some time in the recent past due to signs of possession stowing and she pondered his where abouts momentarily before heading above to weather decks and sighting her quary towards the bow.

As she neared Raphael's chosen place of solitude, he turned slightly in acknowledgment. Doffing wide brimmed crowning, he spoke soft native tongue greeting and the stonelike expression hinted warmth to her presence.

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::Watching the sun rise to it's place above is something I can never get used to. Each day she dances with the moon chasing one another across the sky. Beginning from just below the line of amythest to high above and finally doffing a goodbye only to begin again within mere turns of the glass. Majestic.

Snatched from my trance, I hear those words that beset favor upon many a sailor,

"IN and IN!!"

I hear Mr. Thatcher shout above the din of name calling and curses bestowed upon crewmates. Menacing fists in the face gather no mind as Mr. Thatcher casually takes the bowl of coins and dumps them into his small satchel. Moving back towards the game away from the gunwale, I find Mr. Flint casually observing the mocking behavior between those players.

"So Mr. Flint," believing I may have startled him with a strong hand to his shoulder, I continue with a strong smile, "I 'ear ye may 'ave some skills as a gunsmythy. When we alight at La Blanquilla we're gonna be a mights busy. Wot ye know about arms man?"

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Dorian entered his small cabin, finding all as it should be.

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He set his tankard on the desk and shut the door. Pulling his small basin and water pitcher from under the desk, he placed then next to the tankard. Dorian then stretched and yawned, then began removing his baldric and other acutraments. off came his wesket, then shirt. he poured some water into the basin and used that to freshen up a bit. he dried himself off with the old shirt, then found a fresh shirt in his sea chest, donned it, put his wesket back on, and reset all else he had removed. Taking the basin, he unsecured the 'window' in his cabin and dumped the water out. Returning the basin and pitcher to former location, he stood, retrieved the tankard and headed topside.

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July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

5 bells of the Morning Watch

The Captain and Bosun stood on the quarterdeck in mixed conversation with subjects stemming from clew lines to cooked cabbage and back again. Each of them enjoyed the sun on the sails and the prospect of a good tacking. They would be steeped in the fine tuning of sails all day as they inched their way around La Blanquilla to verify the depths of their many charts. Two lead lines were already laid out near the rail and William was considering whether or not to bring a small table and chairs to the quarterdeck for use in notations as they went along.

Mister Lasseter came on deck then and looked all the better for having breakfast and a little rest from standing. He made his way aft along the Starboard rail meeting the Captain and Mister Badger as they came forward near the ship's aft bell as it was rung, sounding the fifth bell of the morning watch.

The wind had died off a little and they had returned to a comfortable eight knots, but before, Mister Badger had been ever vigilant in his control of the sails to optimize their time. During the heavier wind he had altered a considerable amount of canvas and the Mizzen Topmast Sail had nearly lost a line or two. Both had begun parting under the strong blast, and both had been quickly spliced and made able again.

The ship was set on a path of good weather, though the threat of rain foretold by the moon the previous night, still remained in the very near future.

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::Mr. Flint and I stand on the fo'c'astle deck discussing many things arms; the problems with matchlocks in seaborne raids, adding more saltpeter to the priming powder to make it more volatile, those things that make boucanneers smile.

After belaboring on several points of boarding axes, I decide to have Mr. Flint report to the Sergeant-at-arms and see what skills he truly has. Many a man can talk a good fight, but to partake in one is another matter, as my grandpapa used to remind me.

"Come wit me mate, I'll introduce ya to Mr. Franklin our Sergeant-at-arms. He'll take ya through tha armoury. I 'ave a wee project for you two."

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"Cap'n, Mr. Badger..."

He greeted the two men as they approached.

"Int'restin' day ahead I do believe... I may sleep through it though... more's th' pity..."

They all chuckled at his comment, then made talk of the navigational and chartering issues that were ahead.

"Cap'n, I s'pose yer gonna stay on deck now? "

"Aye Mister Lasseter, I have the deck, you may retire if you wish..."

Dorian slowly nodded.

"Very well... gonna take in th' air fer th' moment, walk th' decks til land is sighted... Then off ta m'hammock... gonna sleep like th' de... er... very soundly, I think... Gentlemen..."

He bowed slightly and began walking a slow saunter aft...

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As Bill and Mr. Pew proceeded to the armory Redlegs made the Master-at-Arms privvy to his gun smithing skills.

"I've spoken wit bot' tha cooper n' tha smithy n' they be possessed of all we need te repair er fancy up what we's gots aboard already. Special cast moldings be required te make our own barrels, 'specially turn barrels. I kin try me hand at makin' barrels wit out 'em if'n ye like but I be havin' te insist that any arms made from scratch not be handed out til I've tested 'em me self. I kin easily convert some o' our existin' stock to turn barrels, which I highly recommends as it reloads faster and be lighter to carry durin' a boardin' than a brace. Tho' it not be a meth'd wit out it's draw backs. If'n ye ain't keerful ye kin dump yer load rather easy like, but still the technique's not wit out it's merits. Ah, listen te me prattlin' on, I said enough, what be this project ye've got fer me?"

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::Stopping at looking at Mr Flint with one eye cocked, he sets my mind in motion. Pausing briefly in front of my cabin door, I tell him about Mr. Franklin and his duties upon the ship.

"Now this lad be a bit off when he first awakes, so ya better watch out." I open our door to find Mr. Franklin still deep in his trance rocking gently back and forth in his hammock. Trying not to awake the slumber beast, I finally grow tired of the noise eminating from his nasal passages. Crossing the small room again, I move to his sea chest placed against the wall just below his hammock. Opening the lid with nary a creak, I wait until the ship pitches downward once again, and then,

BOOM!!!

I slam the lid shut. Eric nearly falls out of his hammock and impales himself on his two slight daggers in his belt.

"Damn you Pew," he growls.

"Jus' wanted ta make sure, ya didn't miss yer watch mate." Mr. Flint cracks a smile, but returns to his stoic face when Eric glares at him.

"Eric Franklin, this 'ere be Bill Flint, one o' tha new lads from back at La Margarita. Says 'e knows a bit about pistols an muskets an such." Eric stands and thrusts out his hand, nearly dwarfing Bill Flint's. "Eric is our sergeant at arms 'ere."

Eric and Bill talk quickly about their personal arms as I take out the keys to the armoury. With a low "POP" the lock frees itself and the door swings open slowly. The musty smell of gunpowder, metal and wood rushes from the small room.

"Lad's, 'ere's wot we be needin' ta do." Both men glance into the arms locker and back to me. I light the shaded lantern and place it on the small desk inside. Moving to the other lantern nearest the boarding axes in the corner, I light it as well.

"E'er since Mr. St Anthony 'as departed us, I know not when the last time these 'ere weapons 'ave been cleaned and repaired. I know not which be in greater need o' attention. Tha axes 'ill need sharpened I'm sure, 's we'll 's each blade in 'ere . . ." pointing to the short swords by the crates of muskets. "I'll send a couple o' tha powder monkeys ta fetch wot it is ya need. Tell 'im ta move wot needs a fixin' to the berth deck right out 'ere." Pointing out side the door to the cabin. "I'll make sure wot we need a fixin' gets r'paird 'afore nightfall 'Ave 'em fetch tha whet stones an' some oil from tha shipwright jus' down tha hall. I'm gonna go above and get some more lads ta 'elp ya. 'Tis not a goode a job as ye may be wishin' fer, but I'll make sure ya gets a double ration of rum for ya."

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Mr. Lasseter continued his walk, onto the quarterdeck to the taffrail, he looked over the rail into the wake left by the ship. The rays of the morning sun reflected pff the rippling, swirling water and Dorian was almost mezmerized by the beauty of it. He continued to watch the patterned display for what seemed like an hour, but only a handfull of minutes had passed. A yawn broke him from his semi-trance, and so he gripped the rail and stretched his back. Turning away he headed forward on the starboard side, again with a slow pace, he headed off the quarter and into the waist. Looking up into the rigging he stopped at the main shrouds. Though tired, he was not so worn and weak, he decided to pay a visit to Ciaran. Grabbing hold of the tarred cable, he hoisted himself up and into the rig, climbing up, up , up untill he reached the crow's nest.

"Top o' th' day to ye, Lad... Such a grande view, eh?"

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::Bounding up the ladder stairs, I catch several crew off guard still milling about after the dice game. Watching the sun rise is beginning to become an occupation here on the main deck.

Raising my hand to shield my eyes from the sun nearly at eye level now, I see a second figure in the rigging near the crow's nest.

"You lot, any 'o ya seen Mr. Lasseter?"

Several fingers point to that second figure in the rigging.

"Bloody 'ell", I say shaking my head. "Well then, you, Mr. Thatcher, Mr. Smyth and Mr Whiting, report to Mr. Franklin in the armoury. He an Mr. Flint be in need o' yer spare 'ands at tha moment. You there, Pat Godfrey, find yer mate Thom Fitch and 'ave 'im report 'as well. You lads need ta gather some whet stones and some oil from either tha smythy or tha shipwright below. Bring it ta the armoury boys. The muskets need wiped down and several blades be needing sharpenin'"

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July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Six Bells of the Morning Watch.

William sent Miss Smith to and from the Ward Room several times to fetch up various charts. A table was eventually brought up and placed along the larboard rail of the quarterdeck, along with two chairs. William sat here in discussion with Mister Badger, carefully discussing the circumnavigation of La Blanquilla and Los Hermanos.

They were interrupted more than once by sightings of sea birds to the North and West of their position. This fair omen of unseen land on the horizon was welcome news and it had the expected effect on the current watch. Ever since departing La Margarita, gossip of the Ilex fortune had spread all along the company, and the idea of ill gotten goods seemed to lighten every laborer's mood.

Once most of the charts had been discussed, and more than a few times, William sent for the Master Carpenter.

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Though tired, he was not so worn and weak, he decided to pay a visit to Ciaran. Grabbing hold of the tarred cable, he hoisted himself up and into the rig, climbing up, up , up untill he reached the crow's nest.

"Top o' th' day to ye, Lad... Such a grande view, eh?"

(Ciaran was in such deep concentration with what he was lookin' at through his glass, that the Quartermaster startled him when he spoke. Keepin' his glass to right eye, the Lookout opens his closed left one and quickly nods to Dorian, before closing it again to continue lookin' through the glass.)

Aye, tis a good mornin' indeed, Mister Lasseter. Nice of ye to climb up. It is certainly the best view around. And speakin' of views, if'n me eyes are correct, there be a handful of tiny little islands on the horizon, over there.

(Ciaran hands his eye piece to Dorian and points to where he should look.)

Jes saw 'em a couple minutes before yer arrival and was tryin' to determine how many there be. I count 4 fer sure, but looks like there could be a couple more to their right. Do ye see 'em?

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Mr. Lasseter took the spyglass from Ciaran and sighted to where he pointed... His tired eye only saw a smudge or two on the horizon, but his gut told him that they were Los Hermanos isles...

"Damn goode work Lad! I do believe ye done found 'em wee isles of th' coast o' r' La Blanquilla... I shall inform th' Cap'n once back on deck... A fine job there..."

He handed the glass back and began to climb down the ratlines. He jumped into the waist, then headed onto the quarterdeck and up to the table.

"Cap'n... With Ciaran's compliments... 'e spotted Los Hermanos isles... just on th' h'rizon... right where I 'spected 'em ta be... An' with yer permission, I'll be headin' ta me cabin fer a wink 'r two..."

William smiled and nodded his assent, then took up the glass from the binnacle to search the horizon. Dorian did as he said and made his way off the quarter, down into the waist and below to his cabin. his hat was tossed onto the top of his seachest, the dragoon pistols set atop the desk and the sea service hung in the lines of his hammock. Off came his sword and baldric to be hung on a hook. Next off came his shoes, wesket, and stockings. He then got himself into the hamock and settled, closed his eyes and soon was asleep...

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July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Seven Bells of the Morning Watch

William went forward and remained at the bowsprit until the seventh bell of morning watch had sounded. By this time they were but a short distance from Los Hermanos and William sent orders back along the deck to keep their course wide of the small isles, that they should not be troubled by any soundings, but Mister Lasseter had put them on a line that made a course correction unnecessary.

As they passed the small chain of islands jutting up from the sea, William noted their size and compared them to descriptions given to him by Lady Ilex. He made a mental note or two about that island upon which she had her fortune hidden. It was as she said it would be in every particular, despite her questionable capacities when she had imparted her narrative.

More of the crew had come up upon the deck in the intervening moments as word passed among the sleepy watch abed in their hammocks. By the time Los Hermanos had passed them off the Starboard bow, most of the watch who should have been abed until the eighth bell were at the rail.

A confluence of curious birds was circling the ship in wide arcs by then and causing a din to rival the crew. Lazarus Gage regarded them with a cook's eye as they passed over and one came so very near Ciaran overhead, that the man might have reached out and grabbed it. Instead, the lookout sent down word from above of La Blanquilla, but it was a routine gesture, for no one had failed to see what they were so anxious to explore.

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Bill Flint and Eric Franklin stood with the assembled sailors eyeing the pile of arms before them.

"Well lads", piped Bill cracking a wide grin," Let's be about it then, the day grows short not longer if'n I not be mistaken" .

The assembled crewmen mumbled assent and set about their given task. Bill and Eric instructing proper technique to hone the keenest edge to a blade. The small swords and cutlasses were finished easily enough. The boarding axes posed a problem for a few of the men but Bill was quick to share his knowledge and help them on their way. The entire time Bill personally laid hands on every firearm in the room checking lock, stock and barrel for minute cracks, loose furniture, or any of the other myriad of signs that the weapons were unserviceable, all the while instructing the less knowledgeable in these techniques as well as setting aside any pistol or musket he felt would require his ministrations. As the hours willed by Eric and Bill talk and grew to like one another and soon were carrying on like long lost ship mates. Finally the task was done and Bill shook each of the men's hands thanking them for their hard work then he gathered up the few arms he found unfit and headed for the blacksmiths to set about repairs.

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July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Just prior to Forenoon Watch

The intervening time between the passage at Los Hermanos and the arrival off the shores of La Blanquilla were filled with evaluations and preparations common to the day to day aboard the Watch Dog.

William gave orders to the Master Carpenter to be ready with extra hands should the Watch Dog come afoul of any coral or sandbars as they did their soundings. It was a precautionary matter, but always a necessary one when familiarizing one's self with a new coast. The tides and times of the sea might change a place within a few short weeks given the right or wrong weather and William meant to ere on the side of caution.

While Rummy and a handful of able seamen stood at the ready, William set other precautionary orders in place, from additional lead lines to added watches at the bow and Starboard rails.

Meanwhile, La Blanquilla loomed. It was a squat island of no significant altitude. The shores gleamed as brightly as any whitewashed counting house and William was certain that the name "The White One" had been given to the island for this reason, though he was disappointed in the conspicuous absence of trees. Minus a few palms and a variety of cactus, the place was decidedly open. The whole of the island looked to be very exposed and the impending rain that might reach them before days end was a greater concern ashore than before.

Still, the morning was fair and with no real clouds overhead they began their soundings and consultation of charts almost at the very moment they reached the coast of that small island. Mister Badger and Mister Lasseter had brought them to La Blanquilla almost at the very minute of their estimations.

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