Dorian Lasseter

Not being on the Watch Dog, but on the quarter of the Lucy, Dorian did not see all that had happened, but more heard the collision. The wrenching of wood, snapping of lines and cables normally would have sent curses in his native tongue to come forth. But this whole scene had caused him to loose his voice. Not a word escaped his lips as the destruction occurred. When the Navarra was free of the 'Dog, there was near silence on all three ships as men stared at the damage and others waited to see what became of the longboat and those aboard here. Had anyone been watching, they would have see captain Lasseter hook his pistol on his belt and pull something from his jacket pocket. He began to whisper while staring into the darkness. Preston was staring at the Watch Dog and slowly turned to Dorian as he heard his whisperings. He shifted his footing and finally stepped closer, hearing Dorian's voice. "sed libera nos a Malo..." At this Dorian crossed himself and whispered "Amen", before turning to the deck of the Lucy. "On Deck! Keep puttin' th' Lucy ta rights!" Turning back to the rail he cleared his throat and called out to Captain Brand. "William! What can-" He stopped and almost laughed at the question he was asking. The 'Dog was there, saving the Lucy, but now Dorian was asking what the Lucy could do to help the 'Dog. "What are you in need of?" He almost looked to the spot in the water that they last saw the longboat, but resisted. He did not wish just yet to know the fate of those men.

As captain Lasseter had made his way to the Lucy's wardroom, seeing what all he might burden the WatchDog with, and what he would keep aboard to bring her to safety, he pondered many a thing, packing odds and ends in his sea-chest. He had just taken up his well worn cutlass when Preston's voice, as strong as Dorian had ever heard it broke him from his thoughts. The urgency in his voice, and soon after the yells and near screams of many other voices caused him to fetch up a pistol and in a moment was on deck. All eyes were looking aft, and his followed. Then he saw the Navarra as well. "Mother of God... Bloody Fools!" As he approached the rail, cutlass in one hand, pistol the other, he cocked the piece, wishing the stern-chasers were loaded to fire a warning, but his pistol would have to do. He aimed at the spanish ship slowly and fired, the report sharp yet weak in the weather. "Veer off, damn you! Veer-" It was at that moment he saw the 'Dog's boat in the path of the merchant. Having been through many a battle and wicked event, this simple horror caused him to pale. A memory of his youth flashed before his eyes of a man being run down by a coach and four, but this was infinitely worse. "Christ All Mighty... No..."

As the captain of the Lucy and the master carpenter headed to the bow, followed behind by the master at arms, they were slowly rolled as the ship shifted in the breeze that picked up. This was in a way a good thing as it rolled the damaged area upward, closer to the waters surface, and lessened the strain on the already weakened hull. The sound of the men working at the hull almost drowned out the sound of the men feverishly working the pumps on deck. Dorian hoped that the pumps were winning out, but by the level of water in the hold he could not say. Once on the scene of the work, observations were made, thoughts given voice and questions answered as best as could be. Dorian took off his hat and smoothed back his hair as best he could with one hand which paused at the back of his head for a moment before he replaced his hat. A sharp nod was given to Alder before he turned away and began heading aft. As Preston followed at his shoulder, not a word was said for several strides. Finally the captain of the ailing ship spoke. "If you please, find out if the 'Dog can bare th' weight of th' Lucy's great guns... She'll need ta be light ta be as fast as I can drive 'er... And, all unnecessary crew are ta be aboard th' Dog, I want a volunteer crew aboard, just enough men ta sail her... Just enough not ta burden th' longboat if need be..." Dorian sounded distant as he said this, his mind working out every detail to ensure the Lucy did not founder - if the gods allowed.

Everything was movement, above and below decks. Dorian had heard every word Preston had said of the Lucy with painful clarity, and every fiber of his being rebelled against the though of his ship being lost. Everyone threw in to haul everything of weight off the Lucy to take as much strain off of her. As he made his way to and fro, he heard the strain put on the men in their labour. Hard breathing, grunts, sharp intakes of breath. Everyone was trying to save the Lucy, and this made each man push that much harder. It was not just helping another ship in trouble, it was helping save their ship, even if they were crew of the WatchDog. When it was said that they were near done offloading Lucy's cargo, Dorian took his leave of the WatchDog and traveled back to the Lucy to go below and see what more could be done.

Aye Sah! I owe you much thanks Master Pew... A new hammock would be grand... I have been about in fits and starts these past months, have had much ado keeping me busier than I'd like... I shall do my utmost to make rounds in the near future... Slainte!

Oi Bo, Grand idea for an impression! I have in front of me a copy of the book; Real Pirates, the untold story of the Whydah... On page 130 is a picture of the grindstone and is noted as such; "Operated by hand-crank, a grindstone was essential equipment on board the Whydah. The carpenter had many tools that needed to be kept sharp. The grindstone was also used to sharpen blades on weapons and kitchen knives." Sadly, there is no dimensions listed as to the size of the stone. Also no idea what the hand-crank rig for it looked like. Yrs&c, Dorian

Pictures Man!

It took a moment for Dorian to answer, for he was slightly taken aback. “Aye William!” He had hoped for William to send over the Jollywatt, but this was better. Turning to the crew, Dorian gave the orders. “A’right men! Prepare ta receive lines! Gather some oakum an’ hemp-line mats ta use between th’ ships, see if we can stop some further damage when we’s hauled in tight!” Some of the men actually cheered as they ran off to do the Captain’s bidding. All Dorian could do was breathe a sigh of relief and smile. Preston stood close by and coughed into a cloth, then wiped his mouth with it. “Preston… Glad ta have ye back among th’ living… but… go on b’low an’ outta this weather. I’d like ta keep ye amongst us.” He looked as if to object, so Dorian continued. “This ship’ll be the death of us yet, no need ta hurry that along, aye?”

Aye! Happiest o' Natal Days to ye, Sah! And many happy returns...

Still a pity you can't put a tiller on her...

Er, who says I were payin' fer that sasparilla?

Not to mention that ye've Pirated this young woman's thread... Er, ahem... Welcome ta th' Pub Young Miss! Where was I? Ah... So, off wit ye... find another darkened corner ta haunt... Oi, Ray (that be th' barkeep), a mug o' sasparilla fer the lass! You people, where are your manners?

Captains, Cahhhhptains.... Must we bicker on like school boys? Go on now, settle yerselves and grab a jar, drink up and... or is it ye've already had too much ta drink?

My apologies for bursting your bubble... but I would rather be safe than sorry my friend.... And from what VS posted as well, I didn't look nearly close enough... there are too many things wrong with that piece... Agreed... the things we do for love... Best of luck to ye, mate!