Dorian Lasseter

As the small boats were making the crossing from shore to the frigate, Dorian closed his eyes and smiled to himself as they were borne upon the water, no longer treading upon land. He put a hand to his face and scratched his jaw, covered with two day old stubble and realized at that moment he had nothing aboard the Watch Dog to rid himself of the hair, not other clothes to change into. Two days or more in the same clothes were nothing new to the man, but these were finery, a newly purchased suit that had already experienced being soaked in a tropical storm and plenty more. Dorian had thought he’d be wearing this in polite company or to receive the same aboard the Lucy. All he could do was smile at the folly and give a sigh. Looking around at the others, Dorian noticed how worn everyone appeared. All seemed lost in their own thoughts until they were within hailing distance of the ship and Mister Warren called out. “Ahoy the Saint Kitt!” Dorian took in a lung full and was about to answer when William called out quicker. “Ahoy the Watch Dog! Mister Warren, Some strong hands to bring aboard our wounded men, if you please!” “Aye-aye Captain!” He turned away from the rail and orders could be heard repeated on deck. Soon a score of men were looking down at the Longboat and waiting for them to bump along side.

Aye, Spiking the gun is quick and puts the gun out of action for a time... Depending on if you have someone who can remove the 'spike' without causing further harm to the touch hole... You really want to put the gun out of action completely? Blow the trunnions off...

I don't believe many of these are GAOP... 18 century, aye.... some 17th C... http://www.ingenious.org.uk/see/Societyand...wby=images& Have a look at the 'alarm clocks'....

Captain Lasseter stood next to Joshua Wellings where he had been laid after the Surgeon had seen to his wounds. He spoke in low tones and Joshua responded in a weary voice. “Feelin’ better lad? Surgeon fixed ya up well… got that ball outta ya an’ all.” “Aye, sah… I’m… not much pain now… you found Ajayi… is he… he a’right?” “He’s a might worse fer wear, but no worries… you just rest easy an’ we’ll be back aboard the Watch Dog soon enough… Miss O’Treasaigh, that is, Doctor O’Treasaigh’ll have ye fit enough yer gonna be on Forenoon watch, lad, right along wi’ Ajayi.” Wellings smiled and a dry chuckle came to his lips, followed by a slight painful grimace. Dorian put a hand on the man’s shoulder and nodded. “Rest easy lad…” He nodded in return and the Captain crossed his hands behind his back. Wellings closed his eyes and sighed, then began breathing slowly. Dorian left him to his rest and walked past where Ajayi lay, resting as well. Captain Brand stood at a window looking out towards the ocean and so many ships at anchor. Dorian was going to engage him in light conversation but decided against it, instead he stepped outside and took in some air. The Surgeon was seated on a small bench just outside the building with her head hung down. As Dorian’s shoes crunched on some shell and gravel, she looked up. “Doctor… fine work ye do there Ma’am… fine work indeed…” She smiled and nodded her thanks for the praise and pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Dorian nodded back and smiled as well and noted the fatigue on her face. It looked like all present company needed a well deserved nights sleep. However, it was doubtful they would get such, just yet. Dorian noted which direction the breeze and took a couple steps away from the Surgeon and took his pipe from his hat, knocked out the bowl and began refilling it from the tobacco pouch from his coat pocket.

There are some Gunners daggers/stilettos with lines on them to measure small calibre bores that I've seen/handled. Also there are some made in such a way to be used to 'spike the gun'... essentially stick the blade into the touch hole tightly and snap it off, this rendering the gun useless. This would be done before retreating and abandoning the gun.

http://www.rivkasmom.com/ Cool stuff here...

Since there isn't a 'for sale' area in the AIR SHIP PIRATES section, I'll post this here... I've come across a small amount of lenses. Something to replace the dark lenses in a pair of welding goggles, or whatever. Clear, polarized lenses, 2" in diameter, 3/16" thick. I would think selling them in pairs would be the thing. Price? What sounds fair? PM me for details...

The Lucy The work of making port done with, and the Ship’s Master meeting on the Navarra with her Captain, the crew of the Cutter settled some. There was no immediate danger perceived, however the Master-at-Arms kept the marines on deck at the ready. Mister Flint was not about to make them stand at attention the whole time, but they were to keep themselves at the ready if called to action. They broke off in small groups, some sat on the great guns while others leaned on the rails. The rest of the crew, those on and off duty, prepared themselves for a quiet night. Young John Van Baerle had been off duty for a time and had come back on deck to enjoy some of the night air. He walked towards the bow, weaving in and out of the men and equipment on deck. John found a place along the rail and leaned on it, facing to shore. All the lights of the town and imposing fortress made quite a sight, and occasionally a sound made its way across the bay, singing, music or incoherent noise. He yawned all of a sudden and gave a shudder, causing him to grab tightly onto the rail. As fate would have it, it was the same section of rough that Mister Wenge had found. He pulled his hand away quickly. “Vervloekt ben!” Rubbing his hand he felt a stab. Sure enough a splinter had lodged in his palm. Tentatively, he ran his other hand across the spot of rail and shook his head. Immediately he set off to the Carpenter’s cabin, hoping to find the man or at the worst ‘borrow’ a blockplane or file and remedy the jagged section of rail. Four Bells of the First Watch, Starboard Watch on duty

Since there isn't a 'for sale' area in this section, I'll post this here... I've come across a small amount of lenses. Something to replace the dark, lenses in a pair of welding goggles, or whatever. Clear, polarized lenses, 2" in diameter, 3/16" thick. I would think selling them in pairs would be the thing. Price? What sounds fair? PM me for details...

Dorian replayed the day’s events through his mind, or what he could recall of the day’s events. He hoped that a repeat of it would not happen any time soon, or ever again, God willing. The banter between the men on horseback and carriage was lighthearted, or as lighthearted as could be for the past happenings. The time went quickly and soon they pulled into the town and halted the carriage at the water’s edge. Dorian hopped out of the carriage and stretched his weary frame. “Lordy… I’ve a mind ta not set foot ashore fer a year’s time after all this.” Turning to the carriage, he helped Ajayi and William out. They stood looking out into the darkness and saw the familiar lights of the Watch Dog riding at anchor. Dorian turned to William. “Where do you s’pose Mister Wellings and our Surgeon might be?” Upon hearing the name of his shipmate spoken, Ajayi broke into the conversation. “Jos-wah, alive? No dead?” Dorian smiled and nodded. “Aye, we found him poorly, but he were alive when we last saw him. Had him brought here ta be looked at by th’ ship’s Surgeon.” Weather it was too much for Ajayi to understand or just that he was that much in disbelief, Ajayi repeated himself. “Jos-wah alive? Aye?” “Aye Lad, aye…” Ajayi raised his abused hands to the sky and softly sang in his native tongue to the heavens while those around him watched and listened, only guessing what praises he sang to whatever god or goddess he prayed to.

The Lucy Though he had been relieved of duty at the change of watch, Mister Brisbane continued his vigil on deck, wishing they had anchored closer to the Navarra. Not that he had an uncomfortable feeling, he just wanted to be nearer to the merchant vessel to get a better look, even in the darkness. Nigel moved to the bow of the Lucy with the glass and steadied himself on the empty cathead. As he moved the glass from bow to stern of the Spaniard he made thoughtful noises. “Hmm… aye… mmm yes indeed…” Suddenly Nigel stiffened and gave a shiver. With an eyebrow raised he slowly looked around him and murmured to no one in particular. “Someone’s got their eyes upon me… who might that – “ He froze as he locked eyes with who it was that had been staring at him. There, perched on the root of the bowsprit was the Pooka, intently staring at Nigel as if he was a fully dressed turkey just set out for Christmas dinner. “Wot da ye see ya spooky critter? On’y me, Nigel…” That explanation seemed enough and the feline blinked lazily, hoped down off his perch and came over to the Coxswain and placed his cold, wet nose on the man’s leg before rubbing his face across Nigel’s shin. Nigel just stared down at the cat and shook his head. First bell of the First Watch, Starboard Watches on Duty

Captain Lasseter had watched as Captain Brand had driven Monsieur Rousseau before all in attendance. Had anyone been watching him they’d have seen a look of dark glee in his eyes. At one point he had let a small chuckle escape from him, which the man he had been driving with the barrel of his pistol took offence to. The man whirled quickly around and knocked the pistol from his back, but not out of Dorian’s grip and made as if to grapple with the Captain. However, he was brought up short as his own pistol was at the ready, its dark eye staring into his face. He froze and his eyes went wide as Dorian pulled the trigger. “clatch” The man jumped as the cock fell into the pan, but no gout of flame erupted, sending the ball into his head. Dorian only brought his pistol back to bear. “Pity… musta knocked the prime outta the pan… Next time ye won’t suffer such luck…” Dorian used the misfired pistol to shove the man back and wave him to keep moving. This the man did with a limp and a grimace on his face. He left a trail of blood and urine as he went.

Monsieur Rousseau's Plantation, Martinique With ears ringing, all those in the small cellar room were forced out into the main building and eventually outside. Dorian had waited with his pistol screwed into the man’s ear for most of the men to head up the steps. It was then he gave the man a shove, causing him to almost topple. When this happened, the Captain quickly scooped up the man’s pistol where it had dropped when his belt was cut away. This weapon he held back, close to his body for several reasons, his pistol he placed nicely in the small of the man’s back when he regained himself. “Move… easy now…” When William was near, Dorian gave him a look and gestured with his head. “Cap’n… Wot about Ajayi? Can’t leave ‘em here, can’t leave ‘im alone again…” As both men turned to gaze upon the large blackamoor, they were amazed to see him standing, braced against a wall, but standing. William simply stated the obvious. “Nay, he’ll come with us now.”

It was almost too much to bare on top of everything else that had happened or been found out this day. Dorian clenched his jaw so tight that his teeth hurt. If Ajayi look so abused in the weak light, he feared what the bright light of day would reveal. He turned to Durand. “Have ye any water?” Durand refocused a moment and turned to his man. “Donnez-moi votre cantine.” The man was still mildly stunned, but did as Durand said, handing him the canteen and thus it was passed to Dorian who set Williams’ musket against the wall. Captain Lasseter replaced his pistol on his belt and opened the full container. He slowly dropped to one knee and realized there was no way Ajayi could hold it, or move until his restraints were removed. He handed the canteen to William and drew his sgian dubh from somewhere on his person and bent to cutting what bound the large man. The rough line had bitten into his skin everywhere it was lashed about his limbs. Dorian had to carefully saw at the knots and gently pull away the blood soaked manila. He helped Ajayi sit upright after returning the small blade to its home and pointed to the canteen. “Water? Can ye drink?” Ajayi sagged a moment and barely nodded. Both William and Dorian helped him as best as they could. Finally he shook his head after half the content of the flask was in him. Dorian shouldered the canteen and put a hand on Captain Brand’s arm. “Shall we take our man out of this place? Before I decide what fate I’ll deal ta Rous- that bastard…” Dorian turned back to Ajayi before William answered and posed a question to the large man. “Walk? Can ye walk? Back to th Watch Dog with ye Lad… Away from here…”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus

As they entered this last place, Dorian removed his pipe from his clenched teeth. He did not tap out the ashes, but made sure it was indeed out and placed the whole affair back in his hat. The stench of human waste and blood, most likely human, assaulted them as they got deeper in. The light of the lantern illuminated many horrible sights, for it was in essence a prison as there were men chained to the walls in various areas. Each remained silent as the pool of light came over them, moving only to shield their eyes from the blinding light. All looked to be near starved to death. They reached the center most area of the building which was a large open space, devoid of anything but for two tables. One large and sturdy, the other smaller and rough built. The light spilled across them and the large table was stained in many areas, with what all of them need not guess. Ajayi was not to be found in any of the side rooms, if you could call them that. As they reached the back of the building they came upon a small door set at the bottom of three steps and bolted from the outside. William stood a moment at the top of the stairs before descending. His hand took hold of the bolt and William paused a moment. Dorian took that pause to hand his musket to Durand and withdrew a pistol, a better weapon in the confines of the building. William had turned at the sound of the pistol being cocked, and Dorian nodded to say he was ready. William shot the bolt back, and in the silence that enveloped them it sounded like thunder.

When Rousseau gestured and stated flatly, ‘The slave is there’, had anyone been listening they would have heard Dorian’s jaw crack. Anyone paying attention would have noticed him begin to level the musket barrel at Rousseau’s forehead. Had William not begun his journey towards the fields that the plantation owner had gestured towards, the situation would have gotten very messy. As Rousseau and his interpreter called out to deaf ears, Dorian and Durand fell in step behind William, following as a rear guard of a sort. Dorian’s pipe had gone out, but he wasn’t about to remove it or do any other thing besides keep his musket at the ready in both hands. On they marched quickly until reaching some outer buildings on the plantation. These were not as handsome or well appointed as the main house, and as they approached the smell of unwashed bodies that had spent their days toiling in the fields descended upon them.

As Captain Lasseter had gained the steps of the plantation house, he had shifted his musket from across his forearm to one of action. One had at the wrist and trigger, the other up on the forestock. He pointed it at no one, but the ease he could bring it to bare was not lost on any man. He stood beside Monsieur L’Ours with the tip of the barrel aimed just above most everyone’s head, casually letting it slowly drift between his adversaries. He paused more often than not at the man who had chosen Dorian as him mark. He clamped his teeth on his pipe, continuing to enjoy the fragrant tobacco, occasionally shifting the long stem to a more comfortable angle. One of the dogs edged closer to the Captain to which Dorian looked down barred his teeth and literally growled at the animal, then quickly shifted his closest foot, causing the dog to retreat quickly. Dorian turned back to the men of the plantation and noted that more than one seemed slightly pale. Weather this was a trick of the light on the porch or not, he could not tell. Whatever the case might be, Dorian assumed his previous disposition and blew more smoke onto the shroud about his head. Aboard the Lucy, Cul de Sac Royal All hands had made quick work of setting the sloop to rights after dropping the hook and the handful of officers were made proud by the men. Brisbane and Tucker were appreciative of their mates, Mister Christie and Goddon respectively. The four of them had taken up quarters of the ship and gotten easy work from the crew. The marines looked sharp on deck with Master Flint at one end, Mister Brocke at the other, toeing the line in proper fashion waiting for the side party to disembark. Master Flint stood ready for whatever orders the Ships Master might leave him with before heading down the side.

Aye! Welcome Back! We're all so very happy to have you back in the fold, recovering well, and soon to be 'terrorizing' the Pyrate world again. Slainte Lass!

The man walked up the lane away from the gathering with an aire about him like he was the king of France. All Dorian could do was look over the man who had marked him and give a sigh of near boredom. Rousseau’s man shifted his weight, as if trying to be more imposing. Captain Lasseter stared him in the eyes for a moment before reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a small leather pouch. He then felt around in his hat and produced his long-stemmed pipe and proceeded to pack it with tobacco from the pouch, while cradling his musket across his left forearm. Dorian casually wandered over towards the gate and snapped off a dry twig from the hedge and continued to where a lantern hung. Thrusting the twig into the flame until it lit, then using it to light his pipe until the tobacco was burning well. Dorian turned away and just dropped the still burning twig on the ground and returned to his former location, idly puffing on his pipe. He again looked at the man of Rousseau’s and took in a long draw of pipe smoke and let it out as a long sigh. There he would wait, ready for the unpleseantries to begin.

#2, 4, 7 are my choices to narrow it down...

As they rode closer, Captain Lasseter drew back the cock on his musket full. He would have been bone-weary had it not been for the adrenalin running though him, seeing the gathered crowd before them, unsure if they were friend or foe. He steadied his breath as he slowed his mount to a comfortable pace. Monsieur Durand was standing, flanked by two soldiers and opposite was three men, obviously in the employ of the plantation. Others milled about, not seeming to be concerned with whatever happenings were afoot. Dorian could tell, even from the distance they were, that things were not calm between those in the lane. The horses were slowed to a trot and finally stopped at the feet of the men. He steadied his musket across his lap and checked his pistols by way of making sure he still had everything on his person before the wild ride. Adjusting himself in the saddle, Dorian hoped to be out of it very soon, but waited for Captain Brand to open whatever dialog was to be had. Durand looked at the three horsemen, focused on each individually but gave no hint of his mood aside from a sour look at the men of the Plantation.

The young lad looked Mister Wenge over and worked his jaw from side to side slowly as he did so. Liam waited for a moment more, expecting more to be said. When none came, the boy smiled. “Aye, sah… Jus’ don’t let a splinter fester… it’ll be yer undoing…” Liam nodded cheerfully, knuckled his brow quickly and turned away, heading aft to see what he might find in another part of the ship. As he wandered, a white and black form attached itself to the lad, following him as a shadow would in strong sunlight.

Sorry to say, no mention of grappling hooks/grapnels in Boarders Away I or II, closest thing was some hook-like barbs on a 'fire-arrow'. Looks more like double sided fish hooks...

And... though they may not be brass goggles... You need these; http://parts.motorcycle-superstore.com/1/1...ggles-emgo.html I have a pair from when I rode my motorcycle ('67 Bonnie)