Dorian Lasseter

When William had finished his tale, Dorian stood quietly. The only sign of life in him was a slow steady breathing and the occasional blink of his eyes. He stared straight ahead, yet saw nothing, all senses turned inward. He stood like this for somewhere in the area of half a minutes time, then suddenly was in motion, walking semi-woodenly at a medium pace. Captain Lasseter did not know if his companions had kept up with him or had been left behind when he suddenly began walking. As he set foot on the wharf he just as abruptly stopped. Again he stood silently, but this time he slowly removed his hat and smoothed back his hair. Looking down at his hat in hand, he raised it as if to place it back upon his crown. Instead, he did something completely different. Dorian violently battered the nearest piling with his cocked hat, beating the wooden post several times. Not a word, not a sound escaped his lips but for a grunt or two from the exertion. Then Captain Lasseter stopped, looked at his hat again. This time he held it gently and began to brush it off, reshape it, to put it back to its old self. He accomplished this for the most part, and settled it firmly on his crown. Setting his coat right he turned to find his companions just behind him. "Beg yer pardon... Let us return to our ships and tend to our crews. Master Flint, have th' marines come aboard and take their ease for now. Cap'n Brand, once we be settled I b'lieve we might convene in yer ward room to discuss... matters, more fully..." Master Flint knuckled his brow and took to heart his orders. Dorian waited, looking as if nothing had happened.

When the officers of the Watch Dog and Lucy reached the Admiralty House, they entered and were led to the office of the Judge. He welcomed them all amicably and introductions were made between him and Captain Brand and his Steward, Miss Smith. With respect yet in a hurried state, the story of Tawny was given to the Judge, he in turn told of the soldiers of the garrison and the marines of the Lucy had all returned empty-handed. Judge Richet invited them to stay for the midday meal, but the officers regrettably declined, excusing themselves back to their ships. Farewells were exchanged for the present, with the possibility of a return if luck smiled upon them. As they made their way back to the wharf, Dorian knew there were other things amiss. “Cap’n… Ye seem overly troubled… Bein’ rid o’ Tawny, truly rid of ‘im hasn’t set any relief to ye. I know th’ missin’ men are a worry, but wot else has ye on edge?”

AYE! Happiest o' Natal Days to you!!! Hope twas grande indeed!!! Slainte!!!

AYE!!!! Happiest o' Natal Days Lad!!! Hmmm... late fer th' party, am I? Yer all in th' English Pub gettin' soused eh? Well then! Slainte!!!!

As the officers of the Watch Dog and Lucy continued on their way. Captain Lasseter grew silent with the knowledge of the decision he and Captain Brand would have to make. Head on seperate paths to meet up later, or abandon one for another. Dorian was also dissapointed they had not found sign of den Oven, and even more dissapointed they had not found the missing crewmen of the Watch Dog. The thought of den Oven on the loose left a sour taste in his mouth. However he was only one man, not of notable power, however he could bring a small force down upon them, if he could find them, and after he regained some face after losing two ships of war to one 'pirate'. The matter of leaving their men behind troubled him more. Practicality would dictate they leave them. It would be the reasonable thing to do, unless you were the one being left behind. "William... though we dinna find den Oven, I believe he won't be a trouble to us fer some time... If he makes it back ta th' English r' Dutch... However I am troubled at leavin' those men of ours behind. I fear th' worst fer 'em, but wi'out knowin' fer certain... An' as ye said, we've not the privilege ta waste any more time if we intend ta escort the... Navarra? I will say m' gut tells me we'll not find Wellings n' Ajayi, not here at the least. Wot say you?"

I think I posted this awhile ago, not sure where... You want change? You want to keep America Free? It starts with you and me...

Captain Lasseter nodded to Captain Brand, but did not take the offered handkerchief. “Tis well with me Cap’n Brand, yet not. I am relieved to be rid of this cur, but anxious to not have found any trace o’ den Oven, nor of any others.” Dorian took his neckerchief away from his chin and found the bleeding stopped mostly. He looked in ernest at the crumpled form that lay there and slowly shook his head. He looked down at his own sword and noted the touch of blood on it, wondering where it had bitten the flesh of Tawny. He walked around the body to see the arm less a hand. Dorian stepped back and spied the missing appendage not far from the ghoul. It still held the surgeon’s tool in a tight grip. “No wonder I didn’t feel th’ bite o’ that blade… I would bet it ta be sharp ‘nough ta split a hair. I best get this back ta the Doctor.” Using the tip of his cutlass, the captain popped the surgeon’s knife from the severed hand. He bent down and picked it up, noticing then that the hand was missing the small finger. A very recent removal with no bandage to cover it. With that bit of knowledge he walked purposefully back to the office of Doctor Dubernard where the two French officers, Doctor and assistant stood. As he approached, Lieutenant Martin stepped forward. “Capitaine, Not to point out something seemingly obvious… you knew of this man, but as an enemy?” “Aye Lieutenant… Let me be brief… He was a stowaway onboard th’ Watch Dog, from our encounter with a prize. He attacked a crewmember and escaped. Though our knowledge of this… man… was brief, he left his mark on many. I pray he hasn’t left any horror on this island in his wake.” Dorian held out the surgical blade and held the handle to Doctor Dubernard. “He found this as a weapon and near slit my throat upon his exit. I return it to your care, Monsieur.” The Doctor was still in a state of shock, having tended this poor wretch to a better state of living, and to see that life ended in such violence. He slowly took the tool from the Captain with a slightly fearful look in his eyes. Seeing this, Dorian asked the Lieutenant to translate to the Doctor a more descriptive account of what he knew of Tawny, what he had done to the young woman aboard and his flight to freedom, the injuries to the other crewmembers. The look of horror on the doctor and his assistant changed from being horrified at Mister Flint to being horrified at the man they had tended.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/africa/11/19...ref=mpstoryview

August 5, 1704 - In the street before the home and surgery of Jean-Bernard Dubernard In all the years Captain Lasseter had been at sea, had been in and witnessed battles of men, he had never seen the likes of what occurred in the streets of Saint Pierre. Bill Flint had raced out after the ghoul who he identified as Tawny, the brute of a man, if you could call him that. Dorian had made it as far as the gate into the street when a second wild yell pierced the stillness. Just as Flint had closed on Tawny he jumped into the air. Pulling a long knife from its belt-sheath, he chopped it down at the outstretched arm that held a blade. As his feet met ground, Bill seemed to bounce to the side and into the air again and somehow ended up behind the retched figure who seemed surprised that there was no one right in front of him. A second later he realized he no longer possessed a hand. In that second a jab of pain was felt in his back and then his chest. His eyes shifted from the place where his hand should be, to a point of steel covered with blood, poking through his shirt. The last thing he knew or felt was an arm crossing his vision and a hand gripping his head as it twisted his neck until it cracked audibly. Mister Flint let the body slide off his long knife and into a heap on the ground in front of him. He looked at the crumpled form for a moment, then lifted his eyes to meet those of his Captain. Dorian had done no more than raise his brows and nod his head once. Mister Flint saluted his Captain and began cleaning his blade on what was left of Tawny, ignoring the onlookers. Dorian turned back to the Doctor’s home to see what the others were doing, only to see them just outside the door. Both military men had a blank look on their faces, whereas the Surgeon and his assistant wore a look of shock and horror.

A bit of pre-GAoP History today... http://www.wired.com/science/discoveries/n.../dayintech_1114 Nov. 14, 1666: Watching a Transfusion, and Taking Notes 1666: Samuel Pepys, writing in his famous diary, records the first description of a blood transfusion. Pepys (whose name is usually pronounced Peeps, or occasionally Peppis) was an able administrator for the Royal Navy, as well as a member of Parliament. But he is best remembered for his sprawling diary kept during the tumultuous mid-1600s, a time that saw such events as the Great Plague of London, the rise of Oliver Cromwell and the Great Fire of London in 1666. He also wrote extensively on the more mundane aspects of everyday life in Restoration England. Pepys began writing his diary as a vanity project. According to a website dedicated to him, Pepys was proud of his achievements, and "writing down events involving him gave him great pleasure; re-reading them even more so." His observations of the dog-to-dog transfusion were made barely four decades after English physician William Harvey declared that blood circulated through the body with the heart acting as the pump. Harvey actually rediscovered what had been discovered much earlier by Ibn al-Nafis, a 13th-century Arab physician. Such was the ignorance of the circulatory system before Harvey that as Pope Innocent VIII lay dying in 1492, his physician suggested introducing fresh blood to the pontiff — orally. It didn't work. The idea of replenishing or replacing blood through transfusion caught on shortly after Harvey's work became known. Physicians, notably Richard Lower, experimented widely using animals, devising instruments and studying ways to get around the problems of clotting. It was Lower who performed the first successful blood transfusion between dogs in 1665. Or partially successful: The donor dog bled to death. Pepys observed pretty much the same thing a year later: The experiment of transfusing the blood of one dog into another was made before the Society by Mr. King and Mr. Thomas Coxe upon a little mastiff and a spaniel with very good success, the former bleeding to death, and the latter receiving the blood of the other, and emitting so much of his own, as to make him capable of receiving that of the other. This did give occasion to many pretty wishes, as of the blood of a Quaker to be let into an Archbishop, and such like; but, as Dr. Croone says, may, if it takes, be of mighty use to man's health, for the amending of bad blood by borrowing from a better body. Within a year, both Lower and a French physician, Jean-Baptiste Denys, did just that, performing the first transfusions involving human subjects. In Denys' case, a 15-year-old boy received the blood of a sheep and somehow survived, probably because of the relatively little amount of blood used. Owing to a complete absence of understanding regarding the importance of species and blood-type compatibility, subsequent human transfusions were only sporadically successful, and the benefits were dubious. Things only improved with the discovery of distinct blood types in the early 19th century. The first successful transfusion using only human blood was performed in 1818 by British obstetrician James Blundell. Other factors that eventually brought blood transfusion into the modern era, such as blood banking and the discovery of the Rhesus blood group system, occurred in the early to mid-20th century.

Residence of Doctor Dubernard Doctor Dubernard was a kindly older man, his face spoke of kindness and caring, his hands of steady skill. He led the men into his home and place of business, first offering refreshment which was begged off for the moment and questions of the man found were politely made. The Doctor explained that the man was not known in the town by him or Monsieur Petain, or Monsieur Michaud. He was badly wounded, possibly attacked by wild dogs, however some of his injuries were days old and many were not by tooth or claw. This caused great concern for Captain Lasseter who spoke aloud to his Master-at-Arms. “If these injuries were done ta one of ours, Mister Wellings, and if done by our quarry…” The look in his eyes said what his words did not. Master Flint narrowed his eyes and barely nodded in understanding. Doctor Dubernard did not understand what the Captain had said and queried Lieutenant Martin, who glanced at the Lucy’s officers. Master Flint took this as a cue and graciously began to explain the situation of the search for the Dutch captain and his allies. As they stood in the front room and conversed, the men had placed themselves around the small rooms as not to crowd one another. The Doctor and his assistant were standing with their backs to a curtained doorway, the Lieutenant and his Sergeant to their left, and Captain Lasseter and Master Flint to the right. As the conversation was ending, and the good Doctor was about to usher them in to see his patient, the curtain burst outward and knocked Dubernard back and into his assistant. All within the room reacted by taking a step back from the entity that had sprung fourth and now stood like a ghoul amongst them. The look in his bloodshot eyes was completely wild. Not one person there recognized who this might be. Flint grabbed up the hatchet at his belt instinctively but Captain Lasseter held a hand out causing him to pause. “Good god, man… Who – “ In that instant the man lunged for the door and almost directly at the Captain, who reacted quickly. “Damnú ort!!! Dorian cursed in gaelic and was only able to draw his sword half out of it’s scabbard when the man reached him, flailing a knife towards the Captains’ face. Dorian brought up his blade and fended off the attack mainly with the guard of the cutlass, but a shriek from the ghoul told him that the blade had found flesh. Off the wild man shot, out through the door and into the garden, Bill Flint hot on his heels with a name cursed from his lips. “Tawny!” The Captain had his sword out fully then and was about to make pursuit as well when the Lieutenant stopped him. “Capitaine, your face, it is bleeding.” Dorian put his free hand to his face and withdrew it. It came back with blood, low, from his chin. Wiping at it he felt the sting of the wound. “Bastún!” He grabbed up his neckerchief and held it to his chin as he raced after his Master-at-Arms.

Outskirts of Saint Pierre, Martinique Within the hour the officers led by Monsieur Petain arrived at the home and business of Doctor Jean-Bernard Dubernard. It was a humble building of two stories and thatched roof, with a well groomed flower garden out front. An aged wrought iron gate was held by a low native stone wall and creaked loudly as Petain pushed it open to allow the others to enter the grounds. They trouped past him in the narrow lane that opened as they approached an airy porch. The door within opened and a short thin man with gray hair came fourth and welcomed the men, welcomed back his assistant. Through some translated words, introductions were made and all were ushered into the front room. Just before Eight Bells of the Forenoon Watch

The Admiralty House, St Pierre, Martinique All the marines of the Lucy and of Lieutenant Martin had been turned out and were dressed in formation. The Lieutenant was nothing but professional and Master Flint worked right along side, just as professional. Captain Lasseter, while he approved of the necessity of such was getting impatient to see who the injured man might be. He hoped it was a crewman of the Watch Dog, even one of den Oven’s men that could be questioned. He began to pace in front of the men slowly. Not that he had a battalion to inspect, just the two groups of soldiers. Once they were satisfactorily assembled the Lieutenant Martin and Master Flint turned to the Captain. Flint spoke first, saying the men were ready and the Lieutenant consented his were as well. “Very well… Have ‘em take up their former squads an’ return to th’ search, quickly now, we must be off ta find out who it is that was found.” Both men saluted and turned to do as ordered. The men shifted into the four man squads and were sent off. The Lieutenant and his Sergeant returned to Captain Lasseter, as did Master-at-Arms, Bill Flint. Monsieur Pertain stood off to the side away from all the military happenings until Dorian turned to him and gestured for him join them. “Shall we be off Gennelmen?” Master Flint Knuckled his brow and the Lieutenant bowed his head, spread an arm towards the road. Monsieur Pertain bowed to the men and they set out for the residence of the country doctor. Six Bells of the Forenoon Watch

If you want to see change, don't wait for it to come down from on high... Act... Call/email your congressman, your senator, etc...

Very nice piece... And to chime in about extras, if you plan to use said piece in reenactments, My main time period has been 1750s-60s+ That being F&I and ACW... They REQUIRE a flashpan guard on any and all weapons used on the field. I've personally been on the receiving end of having a fellow reenactor have a flint shatter next to me. If it had not been for the guard, I'd have had a face full of flint shards. Thank you, no...

May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow if His hand. My Prayers and thoughts are with you and yours...

When I've bothered with a flask; Captain Morgan - Pick one Sailor Jerry's Drambuie Disaronno Otherwise I've just filled a tankard and wandered about, or used a Dutch Gin bottle, the squared off, green glass kind, or an OOP clay gin bottle. Bottles 'r better fer sharin'

Aye, Excellent stuff on stiffening and weatherproofing hats. Those folks having shrinkage issues (we're talkin' hats here, get yer mind outta th' gutter) You need a form to put your hat on while it dries, like a wig stand. The cheap way to do it would be find an old bowl that you can use. I metal one that you can bend since your noggin' ain't round but kinda oval, or any other bowl and build up parts of it to make it oval (like layers of tape or foam taped in place) That way while the hat dries on the stand or bowl, it can't shrink. YMMV,

I might be a bad mix in this.... 20 years reenacting in some form or another First 10 years, I averaged 10 - 12 events per year. These last 10, I averaged half as much.

I'm right there with the lot of them, My condolences to His family, and to You and Yours... To all those that knew him well... And an Irish prayer for him; May the Road rise to meet you May the wind be always at your back May the sun shine warm upon your face May the rains fall soft upon your fields And until we meet again May God hold you in the hollow of His hand

Found this on youtube... More of a slideshow than video, but really nicely done.

Here's a fine example of what not to do... All I have to say is god watches over fools, but these guys don't deserve it...

Aboard the Lucy The Frenchman, sent with the parcel waited patiently for the men before him to further address him. He stood at obedient attention as best he could until eyes turned back to him. “I am to wait foor Monsieur Weetingfoward to return a message to Capitain Lasseteur?” William gave a slight chuckle. “Monsieur, you have little time to wait, for I shall return with you bearing any correspondence for Captain Lasseter.” “Ah, oui, ah… Monsieur?” “Captain William Brand of the light frigate Watch Dog, Monsieur…” “Oh… Pardon, Capitain Brand, if eet pleases you, we may return in my bateau.” “Aye, it would please me… Merci.”