Dorian Lasseter

As both he and William answered the many questions of Turcotte, Dorian felt the tension rise ever so slowly. The Lieutenant still held them both in some sort of contempt. When Turcotte said they would accompany him to ‘fetch’ Monsieur Donatien Durand, Dorian watched as the colour drained from Sergeant Charron’s face. Having spent quite some time in the presence of Durand, Dorian had a feel for how much he did not enjoy Turcotte and his whims. This actually brought a smile to Captain Lasseter’s face. He settled back in his chair and took a drink from his almost empty tankard.

“Do you think it wise for us to visit Monsieur Durand at this hour?”

Dorian knew this would push the Lieutenant to do just that, to push the envelope of his presumed control and power. They would be in Durand’s home this late evening. You could count on that just by the look on the Lieutenant’s face as Dorian drank the dregs of his small beer.

RIP Roy Scheider. I really loved him as an actor.

My wife made this incredibly ironic observation... Did anyone else note that Roy Scheider passed away on the same day that the Discovery Channel was holding its "Shark Sunday" marathon?

Heh... don't take this the wrong way.... but the shark finally got him... if you look at it in an odd way..... In the original story, Jaws, Sheriff Brody is the only survivor...

The Cox’n continued to stifle his yawns as he did his duty, walking the deck and making sure all was well. He’d had two tankards of the rich coffee that Mister Marsh had brewing, it seemed an endless pot and Nigel wondered how much coffee they had left onboard. He yawned again, a huge yawn that he could not suppress. Once he gained control he shook his head hard, trying to clear it. No use. He needed to get some sleep. Nigel began looking for the Ship’s Master so he might turn over the deck to him formally. He found Mister Pew forward, the Carpenter just heading below.

“Mister Pew? Permission ta retire fer a wee bit? I been walkin’ th’ decks since returnin’ from shore-leave.”

Pew looked him over, noticed the bags under his eyes and surmised he’d had a very good time ashore. He scoffed and shook his head.

“Alright, Mister Brisbane, go b’low, but ye best be ready an’ topside if I calls ya.”

“Aye Sah, I will be… Thank ya, sah…”

Nigel knuckled his brow and Pew returned it, so the Cox’n turned away and headed to his berth, checked on his rats to be sure all was well, and climbed into his hammock. He was fast asleep and his snores could be heard on deck until another crewman elbowed him in the ribs and he quieted down.

La Montre De Nuit

As Dorian watched, William wrote out a short letter and let the ink dry before folding and addressing it to one Lieutenant Turcotte of the Fort Royal Garrison. As that dried Dorian took a sheet of parchment and his own quill. William raised an eyebrow to his as he began to write.

“Ta Preston… need ta let ‘im know th’ situation…”

He dropped his voice some and added.

“Need ta let ‘im know we might have a man aboard capable o’ back stabbin’ an officer... let him know of Den Oven, just ta be careful.”

William nodded and Dorian continued writing. Once finished both letters were sealed and given to two different young lads with coin and instructions. Captain Brand’s letter to be given to the man directly and the boy to wait for a reply. Lasseters’ to be delivered to the Lucy’s Master and that was all. They sat in the drinking house and relaxed, if you could call it that. Both men were quiet for a time, internalizing their thoughts of the recent turn of events. When the woman came back for an order, both men took their time to order something light, not needing a heavy meal and actually not needing anything more to drink. Once the woman had gone, Dorian excused himself to use the privy, which turned out to be not more than a trough in back of the establishment. He returned shortly and settled himself just as their drinks were delivered. Once alone it was William’s turn to use the necessary and Dorian warned him of its openness. All they could do at the moment was wait. Wait for a response, wait for the next thing to happen…

Sunday...

http://www.eonline.com/news/article/index....66-163345cc5114

That makes two of the three...

Robert Shaw in 1978 were th' first...

After questioning the guards and finding very little out, Dorian’s mind was exhausted. None of what the guards said the two men looked like bore any familiarity to him or William. Finally they left the prison, William having what Dorian hoped was an epiphany of a sort. Once through the outer doors of Fort Royal his mind cleared some and began working again. Had Den Oven and his conspirators found passage on a ship outbound? Had they found passage across land, having a carriage at their disposal? He hoped the others who were out this night on errands were more fruitful then they had been thus far. Dorian found that his earlier anger at Dufour was settling and being replaced with the need to find out where those men were who had falsified papers and taken the Kapitein from the prison. He had violent thoughts of what he might do to those men. At one point he realized his inner thoughts had caused him to slow his pace and when he realized this, William was some twenty paces ahead of him. Shaking his head, Captain Lasseter picked up his pace and caught up to Captain Brand.

“Where are you of a mind ta be going Will?”

The Fort Royal Prison

While William had given a tongue lashing to Dufour, Dorian had looked to the guards who had the sense to move just far enough away to be able to claim no knowledge of what came to pass. He gave a wry grin and turned back as Captain Brand had finished. The look on the Frenchman’s face was a mixture of anger, fear, and embarrassment. He stood there, trying to regain his former aloofness, tried to calm his nerves and act the man in charge, but to no avail. The charade was over in front of the two captains. Dorian looked around the room and spied the spirits cabinet. He walked over and opened said cabinet, selected three small crystal goblets, then selected a bottle, rejected it and selected a second. Filling the glasses he set one on the desk in front of Dufour and handed the other to William and kept the third himself. As he passed by the cabinet he took up the bottle and set it on the desk, with the intention that the man would need a second or even third drink.

The anger that raced through Dorian was of such speed that his mind caused him to speak in his native tongue, which might have been for the best.

“Ciach ort! Ní mórán thú! Damnú ort! D'anam don diabhal!”

His rage spent enough to regain control, Captain Lasseter realized he had been so close to the Frenchman’s face his hat had been pushed off. He took a step back and smoothed out his coat front, reached down and picked up his hat, brushing off the dirt towards Dufour.

“Go n-ithe na péisteoga thú, Cac ar oineach…”

It was then that he realized that he was not speaking a language those around him understood. Taking in a slow breath, he put his hat on.

“Monsieur… I know not who these men were… you have poor eyes for the man in charge…”

He noticed that Dufour was sweating and had turned pinkish. Dorian was sure his own face was red with the rage he had just put fourth. He further checked his anger and looked to William.

“My apologies Cap’n Brand…”

As they followed Dufour to the office, Dorian ran what he had just been told over and over in his mind. False papers used by some men to take Den Oven from the prison. They reached the office of the Commandant and as they entered, Dorian stopped in the doorway, blocking the guards from entering, so only Captain Brand and Monsieur Dufour were inside. The Frenchman found the books he was after as William glowered at him as he paged to the entry.

“Ah, here…. Monsieur Leveque…”

He looked up a moment with a triumphant look. Before William could utter a word, Dorian scoffed.

“You imbecile… What made you think this man was of our ships? Did he speak with airs that impressed you? Or was it Scymmelpenninck? How did they persuade you so easily? A wave of parchment and you were otherwise occupied? I should send for your superior right now for your idiocy…”

Dufour stood speechless for a moment before his voice found him.

“How dare you?!?!”

Dorian was on the man in an instant.

“I dare because a fool should not be left in charge of such responsibility!”

Captain Lasseter was brought from his thoughts abruptly by the shouts from Captain Brand.

“Den Oven is Gone!”

Dorian’s brow creased as he tried to surmise what exactly he meant by gone. Had the man gone to his maker? Or had he escaped? Been removed to another part of the prison perhaps?

As William came into the light, dragging Dufour by the collar, Dorian took that he had escaped in some way.

“He’s escaped? How?”

This news of the late captain Stoneburrows took Dorian aback. He closed his eyes and tried to replay the scene in his head, when he had boarded the ‘Heron’ and found the man in a state of near death. He had not been right near the man when death had overtaken him. In afterthought, the man was insulting to the last. Many of the men aboard the Heron were Irish and from what gossip Dorian had heard, the Englishman was as many others towards his brethren. None that returned to the service onboard the cutter could find kind words for Stoneburrows. He now wondered if one of the men who now served him had done the deed. He took in a deep breath, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do, for it brought the stench of death and disease into his nostrils. His eyes opened quickly and he tasted bile.

“Beg yer pardon, Gennelmen…. I…”

He turned and left them in the dark place, not at a run, but a controlled quick pace until he came out into the fresh air of the night. He gulped in the air and calmed himself, but the thought of one of his men stabbing their former captain in the back was unsettling, even if the man was of poor character. Dorian looked up into the dark sky and wondered how he might find out the truth.

On Deck of the Lucy

Nigel Brisbane stood on the quarterdeck and once again surveyed the deck and rigging of the Lucy. He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but all he did was prompt a yawn. The yawn turned into an almost visible shake of his body, and when he stopped he grimaced and even growled.

“Damn… need some coffee ‘er somat…”

He worked his legs up and down a couple times and swung his arms about. This time he stifled a yawn and clenched his teeth. Nigel paced aft and turned at the rail headed forward and down the stair into the waist. There he found Godfrey and Wayne practicing tying knots with some thin line. He gave a harsh smile to them.

“One o’ you lads, fetch me a coffee from b’low…”

Both boys jumped up and knuckled their brows and called out in unison.

“Aye-aye sah!”

Nigel held up a hand.

“Slow down lads, I just need one cup o’ coffee. Just one lad needs ta go. You, Godfrey, if ya please.”

Patrick knuckled his brow again and was gone in a flash while Geoffrey slowly sat back down and picked up his line. He looked crestfallen in the darkness, and seeing this Nigel sighed. He knelt down and picked up the other line.

“Wot knot were ya workin’ on?”

Geoffrey shrugged and fumbled with his line before answering.

“We was workin’ on a clove-hitch, sah… I almost got it figured…”

Nigel smiled and quickly worked his line into the desired knot and hooked it over a belaying pin, securing it. The young boy’s mouth popped open in surprise.

“How’s ye do that so fast? Ah, Sah?”

Nigel worked the line apart and pulled it from the pin.

“Here… here’s a trick to it…”

He went on to show the boy his trick to a fast clove-hitch and Geoffrey had mastered it just before Patrick returned with the steaming coffee for the Bo’sun.

“Patrick! Look wot Mister Brisbane showed me!”

He exclaimed and showed off his new learning. Nigel ended up spending the next hour tutoring the boys between drinking his coffee, and stifling yawns.

Aye!

I'll raise a glass of port to th' Cap'n!!!

Happiest o' Natal Days to Ye!!!!

And many more to come!!!

Slainte!!!

Heave!

After barely finishing one glass of port, Dorian was happy to be on his way again, even if it was to the prison. The foulness of any prison reminded him of the floating prison he once served upon, back in his youth. Never the less he would find as much enjoyment out of this business and again pulled his pipe out, knocked the spent tobacco ash from the bowl and began packing in more of the aromatic plant. He used a small touch along the way to light it, causing William to pause for a breath or two. Now pulling well, Dorian tipped his hat to Captain Brand and they were again on their way. Soon they reached the main thoroughfare that lead up to the main doors of the Keep. The walls with their sentries looked foreboding at this hour, but did not deter the men from continuing towards the destination. Absentmindedly, Dorian’s hand found itself perched on the butt of a pistol while the other tended to his pipe. He glanced to William and noted a serious countenance on his face, but did not ask the reason. He was sure it would become apparent soon enough.

The streets of St. Louis

The Captains, along with the couple men of their crews, made their way along the darkened streets of the town. After a time, they split up. William, Dorian, and Claude continued on to the Chateau Anse, while the others went elsewhere on their search. Along the way there were several shops that Captain Brand took time to stop in and make small purchases. Some Dorian and or Claude accompanied him. Other times not. Dorian had pulled out his pipe at one point and gently puffed on it as they walked, as for him this trek was a needed ‘leg stretch’ for him, so he took all the leisure he could, while he could. He even had no qualms with carrying some of the items William had purchased. Soon they were standing in front of the torch lit doors of the Chateau.

“Well, we’ve arrived…”

Dorian shifted his baldric by the throat of his sword scabbard, which also served to loosen the blade within. He shrugged his shoulders to comfort in the layers of clothing, and followed that up by cracking his knuckles and shaking out his wrists. Both William and Claude were watching him, and as he finished, Dorian looked at them with a ‘Is there a problem?’ look.

Captain Lasseter nodded abruptly and turned to his new desk. He took out the ledger and placed it in the hands of Preston.

“I’ll be joining Captain Brand ashore… Pick some men for the search for the missin’ crew, Ships Master Whittin’ferd…”

He turned and began dressing for shore. He checked all his pistols and extra loads, selected another dagger and his Mortuary sword. Now dressed almost exactly as William he turned back to Preston.

“I leave th’ Lucy in yer capable hands, Preston… I’ll be back…. Soon…”

He turned back to William.

“Shall we?”

Dorian nodded slowly at what William was planning and was about to offer some men off the Lucy when Preston spoke up. He asked a question that was on his mind as well. Doctor van Zandt. Dorian gave a slight shake of his head. The Doctor was a stubborn man. Then Captain Brand mentioned Mister Morgan taking his leave.

“He did, did he? Very well… Another good man ta replace… “

Dorian shook his head again and half smiled. They were loosing more crew to other posts and wishes then they had during any battles thus far.

“So… d’ye need some others ta search? I’ll be happy ta suggest some of my men… I could come along as well…”

Dorian had been aboard for a long while and would like to stretch his legs, and for that matter he should check on the work at the bow, the figurehead should be finished soon, if not already.

Wardroom of the Lucy

William was not one to be so rigid, but when Dorian read the letter handed to him he understood. As a point of fact he took the letter to the nearest hanging candle and made sure he had actually read it correctly. He even read it a second time under the candle.

“I see… And what have ye done?”

William stood quietly a moment before responding.

“I’ve followed her wishes.”

Dorian folded the letter in half and nodded. He handed it back to William who folded it a second time and placed it in a pocket. They stood in silence for a bit longer. Finally Captain Lasseter broke the silence.

“You look ta be set for th’ shore… dressed an’ armed as you are… another invite ta dinner or?”

Wardroom of the Lucy

As the meal in the Wardroom came to an end, the Captain still aware that his Ships Master’s health was not yet perfect kept the mood light and reassured Preston that all was well on the Lucy, no pressing matters to attend to. Again a quiet returned to the Wardroom until there was a polite knock at the door. Dorian gave permission for whomever to enter and in poked Mister Brisbane’s head.

“Cap’n Sir… There be some men ashore, come ta deliver…. Furnature?”

Dorian smiled.

“Ah… finally… Send them aboard Nigel…”

“Aye, Sah.”

The door closed and Preston swiveled his head around and fixed his Captain with a questioning look. Dorian stood and cleared his chair to a bulkhead. He looked at the Master and lifted an eyebrow.

“Mister Pew… Or should I say Whittin’ferd… Shift yer arse over there. Aye, I got new cabin furniture a’comin’. “

Preston snorted and slowly stood, after draining his glass and moved to the bench seat at the stern. Dorian called Miss Ashcombe from her hidden place and bid her to clear the tray and empty bowls, which she did with a curtsey. Just as she was heading to the door again a knock and in came the men delivering the new furniture. They entered with care and the following man held the door for Miss Ashcombe before heading back out for what was left behind. Three young men from the furnishing store had arrived with a new table, a small desk and four chairs that were constructed in such a way as to collapse flat for ease of stowage when not in use. Preston watched in amusement as Dorian spoke with the lead man in broken French and English. He wore a quirky smile as the men removed the old table and replaced it with the new, Dorian shuffling parchment and sundries out of the old and into the new. He showed them where to put the desk, next to the steps leading forward to the deck. It fit perfectly. The Captain was pleased that his measurements had been followed precisely. Three of the four chairs were left folded up and placed against a bulkhead, whereas the fourth was placed with the desk. The Men, done with their service bowed out and Dorian rewarded them with coin and bid them a good evening. He almost ignored Preston as he sat and opened his desk for the first time. The smell of fresh varnish and wood was pleasant. Dorian began to arrange pens, ink bottles and parchment in the nooks and niches. Finally he spoke aloud.

“Well old man? Wot ye think?”

First bell of the Second Dog Watch

Nay, I stole th' rum....

Lily steals th' pigs... or tries to...

Aye Lad!

Happiest o' Natal days to ya!!!

Slainte!!!

Mmmmmm....... looks good... but it's missing something....

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.........

LOL

Right.....

1 pound of powder...

6 ounces of saltpeter...

1 ounce of charcoal...

Not sure I need that much...

I'll have to give that a go... later...

Sounds like the fuse is fast though... "and be sure when you have fired the Fuze, suddenly cast it out of your hand,"

Thankee John... where did you find this, and is there more???

I mainly want to know about the fuse...

"A hollowed out piece of wood, filled with a slow burning powder mixture."

Anyone experiment with this?

Anyone have a reference to the manufacture of said fuses?

I am hoping for more info, if it exists, on the composition of the fuse...

I had thought to experiment at some point if I can get some saltpeter...

Say a mixture if 1F and saltpeter, made into a 'sludge' and put into a hole drilled through a dowel rod fuse... vary the mixture from a 50/50 to whatever mix makes it burn slowly yet effectively...

And how was the fuse timed?

Every example seems to be about the same length...

How much time did you have from lighting it til it exploded?

Modern grenades use about a 3-4 second fuse (after the 'spoon' trigger is released)