Dorian Lasseter

Tough call all the way around... I'm in plenty good shape without any trading...

Unless they'll take parrot feathers for something... (it was tasty )

and if they do take parrot feathers in trade... I'll take the hooks I think...

Once Dorian had packed the tobacco to his liking, he set the pipe aside to wait for the Ship’s Master to enter with whichever crewman he had in tow. They had a very short wait, as moments later a single knock came on the outer door, followed by it opening and Master Preston entering with the man named simply ‘Adam’ in his wake. Dorian did no more than cross his hands behind his back and looked at the men. Adam closed the door behind them as Preston began to speak. He told the Captain of all he had been informed and seen below. Dorian took all this in and when he had finished looked to Adam who stood there listening and at odds with what Preston said.

“Aye Preston… very well… Now let us hear… that is let us find out the truth of the matter… Adam, if you please…”

The Captain motioned to the wardroom table, where he had left open the ship’s log, and other parchment and pen and ink lay. Adam understood what the Captain asked and stepped over to the table, hesitantly took up the Captain’s own pen and inked it, taking another moment to think and smooth out a blank sheet of parchment and began writing.

Wardroom of the Lucy

Dorian had returned to the wardroom to look at the charts and mull over those questions he had no answers to. He even went as far as to write them in the margin of the daily log. Why this bothered him so much he did not know, but he would not let these thoughts overwhelm him. Captain Lasseter was about to head back on deck when there were sounds of discord forward and belowdecks. He almost rushed forward and into the crew’s berth, but checked himself as he heard his officers on the quarterdeck making their way down. As Quartermaster on the Watch Dog, he had been the officer to get to the bottom of issues with the crew. Now as captain, he would learn to wait and have the issue brought to him. He walked back into the wardroom and looked around, deciding what to do while he waited for what he hoped would be a short time.

“Pipe…”

He said to no one but himself and found his pipe where had last had it and searched out the tobacco he had purchased on Martinique. Once found, he began filling the bowl with the aromatic herb. As he did so, the door from below into the wardroom opened and he slowly turned to see Miss Ashcombe enter with a distressed look about her. His brow creased a moment.

“Miss Ashcombe… what is amiss?”

Two helpings if you don't mind... and what to drink...

Guinness?

Memorial Day is a United States federal holiday observed on the last Monday of May (May 25 in 2009). Formerly known as Decoration Day, it commemorates U.S. men and women who died while in the military service. First enacted to honor Union soldiers of the American Civil War (it is celebrated near the day of reunification after the civil war), it was expanded after World War I to include American casualties of any war or military action.

I salute You!

Sea Chest refurb...

Due to the 'fine scottish weather', I had to put up a 'tent'...

But good progress has been made...

Several layers of horridly slapped on paint has been removed, fresh paint applied...

Brass and other fittings removed and cleaned.

So far, so good...

Keep the Dog...

Eat the other two...

Seems I'm finding steampunk type stuff everywhere...

Here's an awesome computer robot controller with a copper heat sink and lighted fan.

I love it when the guts of stuff are exposed...

A couple things to think about;

Dyes were not colourfast as most are today. several of my shirts and such have colour transfer from other garments and items. I have red stains on the shoulders from a shoulderbag with a red strap, leather stains from belts and other straps. Plus gun oil and powder stains as well as grass stains.

Also, I try not to wash my kit. If I do, say I really bodge it up, I use the gentle cycle, or there are some machines that have a 'hand wash' cycle... or even actually hand wash it, and Never put it in the dryer.

As for being dirty/grungy myself... out of necessity I'll keep my hands pretty clean... but tar stains or some such can stick in your skin and won't come out unless you really scrub.

I do believe the 'rail gunn' Dutch is lookin' for would be this kind...

Or some such similar...

Cool site....

http://www.johnsmilitaryhistory.com/gunboat.html

Alright...My worst case list is what I'll use...

1 Boarding axe

2 Musket or pistol with powder and shot

3 as much fresh water as can be had

So I have a nice shelter, a fire and water.

In the cave, I'll grab the Rapier...

Reason; What will I do with a silver candlestick? And the bag, aye, interesting thing, but I can make a bag or some such with debris from the ship... there would be tattered sails, or I could use my jacket or shirt as a carrying device.

The rapier is a weapon or a cooking spit, or a valuable device to trade for something else, if there was someone to trade something with... or hey, kill 'em with it and take wot I wants!

Best case;

1 My sea chest, full of all my stuff

2 Ships longboat

3 as much fresh water as can be had

Worst case;

1 Boarding axe

2 Musket or pistol with powder and shot

3 as much fresh water as can be had

And for fun;

What Captain Red and the Frog had at the end of Pirates...

Well now...

Instead of reprimanding Mister Blackthorne, I'll tell a story...

Back in the early 90s when I was very active in the SCA I was a 'champion' fencer. Several of my friends and I did a lot, and I mean a lot of fencing together. At a particular event known as 'War Practice' (I think it was #3 or 4) we were all together and having a jolly good time getting drunk. Previous to this, my best friend and I had been discussing a scene from the 70's version of the Three Musketeers; the night duel between D'Artagnan and Rochefort. At a certain point in our inebriation that night, we decided we HAD to do it, we HAD to recreate that duel. Luckily (or unluckily) our other friends came along to keep us 'safe', as they could not talk us out of it. So, rum in one hand, fencing swords in the other, we headed to the fighting field. Our friends tagged along with other equipment and made us don armour and masks. Yeah, we had a rollicking good time... Not more than a bruise or two between us.

WE WERE TOTAL IDIOTS!!!

Later, when we were sober, we realized our STUPIDITY, because we could have KILLED each other, HURT our FRIENDS, and ruined an event for EVERYONE ELSE.

The next Pennsic War and forever after a new rule was added to the book 'No fighting of any kind, anywhere at night. If caught doing so you will be thrown off site.' We got off easy...

I have never picked up a sword (or handled firearms, or been on a gun crew, etc) of any kind with the intention of 'using it' if I've had Anything to drink since then...

I've stopped others from doing the same and will continue to do so...

First rule: Think of how your actions will affect the world around you...

Second rule: See Rule #1

Dunno if this would be better in the Thieves Market...

But here's a fine place that has all kinds of hardware for a sea chest and more...

http://www.horton-brasses.com/

Locks, hasps, hinges...

http://www.horton-brasses.com/store/hinges...ron/snipehinges

Someone else posted there before I believe... I may use these on another project...

The Lucy

The Captain was silent for a moment more before speaking again in a low tone.

“Afore we left on this sail, I had told m’self wot lay in th’ Navarra were none o’ my business… William had made all th’ arrangements an’ that were good enough fer me… I’m privy ta all that was done, and nothin’ were outta sorts wi’ it… As fer them seekin th’ two ships as armed consorts fer th’ voyage ta Trinidad, their own escort was blasted near ta wee bits, makes ye uneasy, so… good enough reason as any…”

He was silent for a time, as if that would explain it all. As the turn of the watch came, from the Afternoon to the First Dog Watch, and the crew traded positions and information, Dorian hammered his fist on the rail once.

“Damn… Damn it all ta hell… Just gotta let it go til sommat else says not to…”

He turned and watched as the deck was turned over to the fresh men.

“Mister Brisbane, Mister Goddon, have th’ marines take turns every turn o’ th’ glass as a rear lookout. Give ‘em a glass ta keep an eye on th’ Navarra for anything… unusual…”

Both men saluted and Nigel headed to the waist to make arrangements with the Master-at-Arms.

“I’ll not be caught off guard…”

Captain Lasseter stepped from the Holy Ground and into the waist, turned back to Preston and Charlie.

“Have Smyth keep a sharp an eye as ever as well to what may be ahead…”

They nodded and he nodded in return, looked to find Master Johnson near and nodded to him likewise.

First Dog Watch begins

Larboard Watch on Duty

The Lucy

Maurice asked the Spaniards in their native tongue what Captain Lasseter wanted to know. The man the Ship’s Master had brought forth looked to his companion and the other shrugged slightly. The first man turned to Dorian and began speaking rapidly, almost too fast for both Charlie and Maurice to catch all he said. Twice the other man interjected a comment and on the second occasion the main storyteller elbowed him. The story was told in one continuous stream of words until he finally ran out. Maurice began the tale as best he could.

“Capitaine… He say that there is unrest among the crew of Navarra, too much politics and… what is the word…. Ah…. relationships to close?”

Dorian looked at the two men a moment.

“And where was this information garnered?”

Maurice asked them and the quieter of the two answered. Charlie laughed a cynical chortle.

“Oh jesus, wot’s heard r’ half heard between crew durin’ a gam… ain’t worth shite…”

Dorian only shook his head slowly as he continued to look into the men. Suddenly the quieter one burst out.

“Oro! Oro de España que es pasada de contrabando lejos!”

Dorian knew the word ‘Oro’…. Gold… Maurice now wore a look of disdain.

“He say Spanish gold is being smuggled from Spain.”

Again Dorian stared into the men for long enough that the began to sweat from more than just the heat. The first man to speak was about to do so again when Dorian quickly shook his head.

“Take ‘em back b’low… nonsense… paltry scuttlebutt if I ever heard… Mister Whittin’ferd, with me…”

As Charlie and Maurice took the men below, Dorian headed back to the quarterdeck and Preston followed. There he stood and looked across the water at the Navarra. When he knew Preston was at his side he spoke.

“No… petty talk amongst a crew… they know not a thing, but something is not right aboard that ship…”

Captain Lasseter stood as if he were part of the deck, the only things that moved were his eyes as he looked not so much at as into the two Spanish sailors brought before him. The corner of his mouth twitched once and the muscles in his jaw tightened and relaxed. The Holy Ground was getting crowded and this was not to Dorian’s liking.

“I’ll here wot they have ta say in th’ waist, if you please…”

Nods were made and Preston corralled The two men formally of La Vedette into the waist with Mister Marsh’s help. Maurice was just about to join the assembled on the quarter when this change of location was made and nearly fell backwards to get out of the way. The two Spanish were set on the main gratings with Charlie on one side, Preston the other, and Maurice behind. Captain Lasseter slowly and deliberately descended the stair and into the waist. Again he looked into the men who appeared bewildered. He did not look up but spoke in such a calm and even tone it was almost disturbing.

“Monsieur Roche… ask them what they know… what is amiss on the Navarra… I want answers… now…”

Quarterdeck of the Lucy

The Lucy’s speed dropped off and soon the Navarra and Watch Dog were closing on his quick little cutter. Dorian had taken up the glass and was watching the happenings on each ship. The closer they got, the more detail became apparent. He watched and comment to those others on the quarter what was seen.

“Th’ Dog’s comin’ up on the Navarra quick now… Deck ain’t cleared fer action, but the crew’s lookin’ fit fer a boardin’, that’s good… Dog’s ‘longside th’ Navarra, I see Cap’n Brand, not sure who’s returnin’ his hail… Lets see wot happens here…”

Dorian took the glass from his eye and took in the scene unaided by it, watching to see everything at once. He let out a ‘harumph’ when the light frigate disengaged and settle back to the rear. Dorian took up the glass again and began muttering to himself.

“Not much conversation there… too short… but Will seems at be satisfied… Damnu ort…”

He stepped from the rail and shut the spyglass sharply. Turning he back on the Navarra he looked at his waiting crew.

“Stand down Lads!!! Take yer ease, but not too much of it! Tucker, keep us close ta th’ Navarra, no more than a league ahead…”

“Aye Sah!”

As his orders were carried out, Captain Lasseter turned back to the Spanish ship and narrowed his eyes. His arms crossed behind him, both hands grasping the spyglass. There he would wait for his officers to ask him his mind, if they dared.

And now to stir things up a bit....

http://www.mariner.org/exhibitions/artifac...ct_seachest.php

This sea chest was acquired in Muscat, Oman and is typical of the style of sea chest carried by the Portuguese in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. The Portuguese conquered Oman in 1507 to protect their trade routes to India . They controlled the coastline and maintained a powerful presence in the Gulf of Oman until the imam Sultan bin Saif recaptured the area in 1650.

OOP but so cool...

And, no beckets.... but handles...

And next we have;

http://travel.webshots.com/photo/1047569817039209602WUrSjU

The Ark of the Covenant of Sea Chests...

The Lucy

After Preston had left the wardroom, Captain Lasseter walked to the stern windows and put an arm up, bracing himself on an overhead deck beam as he stared out into the ocean. His fellow officer had brought up semi buried memories of a lifetime ago, a life that he had no way of getting back. He pondered this for a moment longer and turned back to his Steward who had begun to clear the table. He almost felt a need to explain himself a bit further to her, as she really knew very little about him or anyone else on this ship. It seemed that faith and providence was something in abundance in these waters. His smile came back easily as he watched her at her duties, which she had taken to well enough. Above the wardroom he heard the order to adjust course given and this brought him back to his present duties. The tiller creaked slightly as it was pushed over a couple degrees to larboard, and soon after returned amidships. As the Lucy took on her new course, a sound was heard by Dorian and many above. It could have been mistaken as the sound of canvas snapping, but it was too distant for it to be that. Feet shuffled on the Holly Ground above and a stillness occurred. Even Miss Ashcombe noticed the demeanor of the Captain change slightly and remained quietly observant. A second report was heard, this time more distinctly and it was confirmed in Dorian’s mind as a musket shot. With a curse under his breath he took up his coat and hat and exited into the waist and was momentarily on the Quarterdeck. Preston had the glass to his eye, pointed aft over the rail at their small convoy.

“Report Mister Pew… Where away did the shots come?”

“Not fer certain, Sah. Coulda been th’ Dog or th’ Spanish, can’t say.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes as he looked at the other ships in their wake.

“Other vessels o’ note around us?”

“Nay Sah.”

“Sommat’s amiss… Mister Tucker, take in some canvas, slow us down some…”

“Aye Captain.”

Lasseter turned and scanned the deck, picking out the Sergeant-at-Arms and the Gunners Mate.

“Brocke Get Mister Flint on deck and assemble th’ marines, Mister Aretineson, You get Johnson and ready th’ guns – quietly if you please…”

Both men knuckled their brows and were off. Turning aft again he was met with a curious look from Logan and even Mister Wittingford. Dorian stepped two paces to the stern and placed a hand on his pistol.

“Sommat’s amiss… dunno wot, but I don’t wish ta seem too obvious that we might be in th’ know… Preston… find out if Mister Marsh or Roche found our guests taking of anything… out of place…”

“Aye Sah”

Safety, Safety, Safety...

I believe the regulations for carrying powder in priming horns during a battle scenario are;

"Priming horns may contain no more than One (1) ounce of fffg or ffffg powder."

This is from the Regulations of Old Fort Niagara, F&I period. So New York regs.

Thus I made up an small horn;

I believe if I loaded it up full it would hold about two and a half, maybe three ounces of powder...

Indeed it would my good man...

I shall not get in the way of anyone serving such fare to the cold and wet souls gathered.

Preston’s question near struck the captain dumb. The smile on his face faded, and he became thoughtful. He went to speak twice, but refrained, rethinking his words. Dorian cleared his throat, took up his glass and drank half of it down before finally finding his voice.

“Family… aye… no, I can’t say I have… not that I have much left… and not that I could…”

He got quiet and rubbed his chin, looked out the stern windows a moment before turning back to those in the wardroom.

“No… I’ve sent wot I can back home… Can on’y hope wot was sent made it through… Faith n’ providence…”

He gave a quirky smile and drained the rest of his glass, set it on the table again and stood. He felt he was keeping some truth from Those in his confidence, but it could not be helped, nor did it matter so much. Mayhaps in the evening he might breech the subject again and talk of the past. Not now though… the sun was too bright to speak of the past.

Aye Callenish, Agreed on all points made!

“Aye Preston… good ta be back at sea… Don’t think I coulda stomached another hour on ‘at island.”

The Captain rubbed his face, becoming almost weary just at the thought of the happenings on Martinique. He chuckled and cast those thoughts away, like so much pipe-smoke on the wind. Looking at his second in command and Steward, Dorian smiled and sat back from the table.

“Tis a fine day ta be sailin’ th’ Carib… Long as th’ breeze stays up an’ those we would call our enemies find on’y our wake, I call this life a fortunate one. Ain’t nothin’ better’n a stout ship under ya an’ full sails flyin’…”

Dorian drained his glass and placed it on the table, feeling all the more wealthy for the ship and crew under his command.