Dorian Lasseter

Wardroom of the Lucy

The Captain looked at the newly appointed Sergeant-at-Arms, and also at the Master-at-Arms. Looking to Preston as well, who shrugged at Dorian, who then turned his eyes back to the pair standing.

“I have nothing more to say, except congratulations… And you may both take yer leave, we’ll soon be at Saint Pierre, have your men ready…”

“Aye-aye, Sah!”

Both men knuckled brow and responded as one. Nathaniel turned and reached the door first, holding it open for Bill. The Captain, Master and Steward were left in the Wardroom, and Dorian spent little time in contemplation of his new officer. He stood and retrieved one of the ships ledgers and handed it to Mister Whitingford and sat at the desk himself, drawing out some parchment and readying a pen and ink.

“Go on and put Mister Brocke on th’ books… We still need a Bos’un’s mate… You mentioned a lad for that position?”

“Aye cap’n, that’d be Charlie Goddon…”

“Charlie Goddon… Aye… Tell me what you know of the lad…”

Dorian had begun to write out a letter to those who held power in Saint Pierre while Preston spoke.

“Aye, about Mister Goddon… there were a situation that occurred while you ‘n Cap’n Brand were ashore. One o’ th’ lads he was a crewed with on ‘nother ship was givin’ some guff to another. Mister Goddon hauled off n’ knocked ‘im t’ th’ deck, stone cold.”

Preston was about to continue but Dorian stopped him with a hand held up.

“And wot was done ta Mister Goddon fer this? And why was I not told o’ this til now? I won’t stand fer a lack o’ discipline on th’ Lucy… “

He placed his hand on the desk, drummed his fingers and waited for the Ships’ master to answer. Preston wrinkled his brow a moment and was slightly indignant.

“As Master I decided ta not confine ‘im, I did ‘ave words wi’ th’ man an’ he proved a good man, not one prone ta such unwarranted fisticuffs. Only reason ‘e gave fer boxin’ th’ man’s ears was ‘e knew ‘im, and that would stop things from goin’ farther. Goddon weren’t angered when he did such an’ showed fine temperament.”

Dorian sat back and looked at Preston for a long while. He thought over what he had said about Goddon and what little he knew of the new men aboard. His Ships’ Master started to look uncomfortable being looked at by the Captain. Dorian slowly nodded.

“Alright… We’ll make Goddon the Mate… However… I’ll hold you responsible fer his actions if he proves unworthy o’ th’ position.”

Preston smiled and almost sighed in relief.

“Aye, Dorian… I c’n ‘andle tha’… no worries.”

Dorian nodded, satisfied for the moment, and turned back to writing. Soon they would hear the word that the port was on the bow and he wanted his dispatch to be headed for shore as soon as humanly possible.

Wardroom of the Heron

Moments later Nathaniel Brocke knocked and entered the Wardroom. He stood at attention and remained Silent, not daring to even look at the officers before him. Captain Lasseter looked him over. He was of medium build and reasonably tall for his seventeen years. Finally, Dorian spoke.

“Mister Brocke… Seems th’ Master-ta-Arms has taken notice of you… Tells me you’ve got th’ makin’s of a fine marine… or better.”

Brocke’s brow wrinkled for a moment and looked as if he was going to speak, but his face cleared and he remained silent.

“Go on Mister Flint… Tell ‘im…”

Mister Flint stood and walked around Mister Brocke, looked to the Captain and Master who both nodded. He put a critical look on his face and an attitude to match.

Hmm...

Soup...

Sandwich...

and...

Stout!!!

A fine triple S...

Wardroom of the Lucy

Dorian Let the Master-at-Arms have his say and nodded.

“Very much what I had in mind Mister Flint… But a brace of pistols per man, and all at once. Firstly, I’ll be seekin’ out the local governor and military. We may be under the flag of France, but I don’t want this ta be misconstrued. And I don’t want ta spent til nightfall with this search. I’ll give til the end o’ th’ Afternoon Watch, then I want everyone back aboard. By then I hope ta see The “Dog come inta port here.”

Preston and Bill nodded at what the Captain said. Dorian took a drink and settled back some before turning to another matter.

So Mister Flint… Ye’ve taken a liking ta have Mister Broke as th’ Sergeant-ta-Arms, aye?”

“Aye Sah, I find him likeable and up to the task.”

Dorian turned to Preston.

“Have you any complaints ta voice about Mister Brocke, Master Whittin’ford?”

Preston thought a moment and cocked his head to the side as he thought, then slowly nodded.

“Seems ta be a right fine lad… I got no objections…”

Captain Lasseter nodded.

“Very well… Mister Flint, you may tell Mister Brocke of his appointment ta Sergeant. I believe he’s on th’ same watch as you, meanin’ he’ll have ta shift ta th’ opposite watch, and you need ta find a new marine ta replace him. I’ll leave you to that.”

Bill stood and knuckled his forehead.

“Aye Sah! Thank You Sah! I’ll inform Brocke right away!”

“Mister Flint, take your ease… Pass word for Mister Brocke! Have him report to the Ward Room!”

4 August 1704, Six Bells of the ForeNoon Watch

Larboard Watch on Duty

William...

Be so kind as to reach under th' bar, take hold o' that dust covered bottle and bring it into th' daylight...

I need a shot 'r three o' "The Goode Stuff"...

I feel repressed...

I read things here and find the the whole world of being 'PC' is getting under my skin... again...

Talking about events and reenactments where we can't do certain things because of the potential psychological impact it may have on the children.

I remember an F&I reenactment I participated in that we weren't allowed to die during the battles because it was too violent! We're reenacting a bloody war!!! Yes, it'll be violent! if some of the lads had their way we'd do blood squibs!

Can't set up the scaffold for a hanging because it might scar the kiddies minds... Maybe that's a good thing! Show folks that there is consequences to doing bad things! Back in the day, that's what parents did! Take the wee ones to see a hanging to show them what will happen if they do misdeeds. (and get caught )

Show the public reality!!!

I feel better now...

The order to put on all sail was carried out with energy from the men and soon the Lucy heeled over with the pressure of the wind. It was a grand feeling having the deck tilted just so, that and the feel of the hull slicing through the water beneath their feet. The logline tossed again yielded a speed of eight knots. This put quite a smile on many a face, including the Captains’. The Lucy had made good time and had come about, now heading North-West up the coast of Martinique. The Larboard Watch was still on duty, and those of the Starboard had gone below to get some rest before they would come on. Dorian had thought to keep all hands on, but nothing was of such import to do so. He stood at the fore of the quarterdeck and began to think of what would need to be done this day. Once in the port of St. Pierre, he would have the marines at the ready. First things first, he would send word to the local governor and military, stating his intentions and all other necessary information. Once the seal of approval was given, he would send detachments to seek out Den Oven, if he was to be found. He wished he had more knowledge of the port and town. Taking a look around and hearing of no sails on the horizon from Mister Smyth, He turned the deck over to Mister Brisbane so he and Preston might have a discussion over a very late breakfast.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AzpByR3MvI

Have a care, you'll find a couple more versions of this around...

One of my co workers gives me peeps every year as a practical joke. I will partake in them, but only when truly desperate for something to eat.

I've had friends take them camping and roast them over a fire, kind of like marshmellows for s'mores... Or even use them for s'mores...

Let them burn til the eyes fall off...

The men had released the mooring lines and were quickly coiling them out of the way as others slid the sweeps into place, and yet others dropped canvas. The breeze was not nearly enough to maneuver with, the sails filled lazily. Orders were given and the sweeps were bent to their task. Soon the Lucy was being propelled well enough by the sweeps, Mister Tucker calling out the timing.

“Pull! Annnnd, Pull! Aaaaannnd, Pull!”

Captain Lasseter had made his way to the quarterdeck and gave Mister Brisbane direction, taking heed of the calls from the lookout as well to insure safe passage out of the bay.

The deck was a scene of activity, men pulling the sweeps, others tending rigging trying to get the sails to gather the wind so the crew might have a break from the heavy work. As the ship got further out and more into the open sea, the breeze freshened and canvas snapped and held taut. A cheer went up when the order to ‘Rack the Sweeps’ was passed from the Quarterdeck. During this time Mister Whitingford had gone around with a small ledger and counted heads. He spoke to some of the men while doing so, making sure he counted the right men. Returning to the break of the deck he looked up at Dorian who focused his gaze on the Master a moment, gave the order to remain on course until well away from land before changing course to North West. He turned back to Preston.

“Wot news Mister Whitingford?”

“Aye, Cap’n seems we got th’ count o’ six men left b’hind, n’ are as follows; Coipman, Black, Howard, Aretinson, Millet, n’ Leigh…”

Dorian looked slightly annoyed, but the shrugged it off, knowing that it was bound to happen. He only hoped that none of them actually jumped ship.

“Very Well… they’ll just hafta take temporary berths on the Watch Dog til we rejoin with ‘er.”

“Aye Sah.”

Wishing a Happy Natal Day to my BriarRose Kildare...

And many more to come!!!

Slainte!!!

Dorian raised an eyebrow at Mister Flint. A smile crept onto one corner of his mouth.

“Ah, I expect we’ll want him mostly undamaged, he and his accomplice if possible. We’ll deliver them back to the prison I would hope. Much ta do Mister Flint… much ta do…”

"Aye Mister Flint… mayhaps wi’ all the happenings you hadn’t heard. We’re off ta St. Pierre up th’ coast, mayhaps we’ll catch wind o’ den Oven, or th’ missing crew of th’ Watch Dog. I’ll need you and th’ marines ready incase we do find trouble. "

“Aye Cap’n… I’ll be away soon as I can. See you in Saint Pierre… today I would hope…”

With nods exchanged, Dorian scanned the crowd and turned away, heading back aboard the Lucy.

Aboard the Lucy

Men hauled and coiled lines, took gaskets off the sails and readied all that could be to go to sea. Dorian paced the deck, occasionally giving an order how he wanted something done. He kept looking to shore, waiting for Mister Flint and his marines to come back with those of Lucy’s sailors who were ashore on leave. He would not, could not leave without the marines. All preparations were made and all those aboard waited for the order to throw off the mooring lines and shove off the wharf. Dorian looked up at the pennant and watched it lazily float in the breeze.

“Ready th’ sweeps…”

His order was repeated by the Master and the Bo’sun. The sweeps were unstowed and made ready near the ports. Still the order to shove off was not given. Again the Captain looked to shore, first to the group of soldiers with Captain Brand, then his eyes caught site of men hustling along. He smiled, for there were his marines with a group of the Starboard Watch in tow. The men clamored aboard, quickly stowed belongings and joined their fellow sailors on deck. Some were visibly drunk. The marines took position on deck and Mister Flint reported that all his marines were accounted for. Dorian consulted his officers and found some men were not accounted for, as expected given the haste. They would be well aboard the Watch Dog for a short time.

First Bell of the Forenoon Watch

The two Captains were made to wait yet again. Dorian took on an aire of slight boredom and turned to admiring the sword in his hand. He kept aware of his surroundings, yet looked over the intricacies of the weapon. Standing just away from Turcotte and his company, Dorian mumbled under his breath.

“I hate waiting… Time’s waistin’ an’ th’ Lucy’s ready ta sail, save fer th’ return o’ th’ Marines an’ wayward crew.”

He lowered the sword but still waggled it some, the grip feeling very good in his hand. Will stood and remained the figure of patience on the outside. However, Dorian noted the set of his jaw and occasional roll of his eyes that said his patience too was growing thin.

While the crew readied the Lucy, Dorian stepped ashore to see what transpired between William and lieutenant Turcotte. He sauntered up and asked what news William might have, to which he was filled in by the Captain. Dorian readjusted his grip on his bright, shiny new sword, causing many of the soldiers and the man in question to eye it. Dorian saw this effect and in a swift movement brought the tip up and gestured to Monsieur de Conflans.

“So… this man’s th’ last to ‘ave seen den Oven an’ his accomplice… deliverin’ them where exactly?”

He waggled the tip as he spoke and was amused as so many pairs of eyes followed its every movement.

Ah, two pupils to keep me busy...

Dunno if Captain Sterling is gonna like the idea of me getting in some practice with the sword...

William...

I'm gonna hafta do quite a bit o' workin' out ta work off all this fine food...

Work the lines on my ship, practice the art of the sword... mebee help work th' guns wi' th' crew...

Wot's fer dessert?

Preston gave Dorian a genuine smile and was about to say something when Captain Brand excused himself, heading towards a group of French soldiers. Dorian slowly brought the gifted sword to his side, point up and resting on his shoulder. Both men watched William approach the soldiers. Dorian recognized Lieutenant Turcotte and was about to make a comment when Mister Wenge had said ‘Sir?’, finally responding to being given the lead in the unveiling. Dorian addressed him and put whatever William was attending to aside for the moment. As the Carpenter unveiled the figurehead and all who would sail upon the Lucy, and all those who would see her as she sailed took in the fine lady. Captain Lasseter waited a moment before speaking, letting all those present take her in. Finally he broke the silence.

“No finer lass has graced th’ bow of a ship that I’ve been on. Nor any I have seen in my days at sea. I would wish to take time and drink a toast to th’ fine Lass, however we are soon to depart. So, once she’s sailin’ proudly, we’ll ‘ave that toast… Come lads! Time ta throw off th’ bonds o’ terra firma an’ give o’er ta the seas spirits! Back aboard an’ ready th’ lady!”

A hearty ‘Aye!’ rose from many a throat and there was a mass of men waiting their turn to get back aboard the Cutter. Soon the mooring lines would be thrown off and the ship would cut through the water, sails taut in the wind.

My condolences to ye...

I raised many a rodent in my youth and was saddened each time they went to the other side.

Mayhaps they truly live the pyrats life; "A short life but a merry one"

Dorian remains seated, happily enjoying merlot, crumbly sharp cheese and fresh french bread...

"I plied the highways n' byways in years gone by... worn out horse and shoes a-plenty... I'll keep ta th' deck of a ship..."

He raises his glass to the merry band.

"Slainte!"

Preston handed a stretch of canvas to his Captain and friend. As Dorian took hold of it he felt the steel within and took better care as his brow furrowed.

“Wot’s this now?”

He carefully laid back some of the canvas to reveal the polished hilt that was near blinding in the bright morning light.

“Lordy Preston… Where’d ye…”

He let the canvas fall away and held it at arms length, moving it back and forth, testing the balance as well…

“You honour me greatly wi’ this Mister Whitingford… beautiful sword…”

I'm just makin' sure no blood gets shed... nor spirits spilled...

That..... would be sacrilege....

Hmmmm...

*Takes another glass of merlot, a large piece of french bread and some crumbly cheese. Leans back to see what shall be seen.*

Hmm... little less salt at the moment...

Just plain ol' hardboiled eggs will do... and hot sauce.... mayhaps I'll try a nip o' wasabi too...