Dorian Lasseter

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 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)

Gonna resurrect this thread... Even though there are a dozen (well, half a doz) other grenade/grenadoe threads, this one is the most extensive... 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 used to do ECW, and we had grenades for some events which were just tennis balls mocked up with a film cannister stuck in them with about 10-20 grains of 1F in them and used that green coated 'cannon' fuse... I'd just love to have something better/period.

Wardroom of the Lucy Dorian clapped a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Excellent… now, go to th’ galley with yer marines an’ get a meal inta ye. Been gone a goodly time an’ I can bet yer all hungry.” Bill nodded, then stood tall and saluted “Aye Sar.” He turned and marched forward and back out onto deck. Even after the door had shut, those in the wardroom heard the Master-at-Arms bellow out orders to his marines. Arms to be cleaned and stowed, then to the galley. Dorian nodded with appreciation at the skill of his new officer, then turned to his other new officer. “Pull up a chair Preston, afore this gets cold.” Dorian held out a hand, gesturing to the meal laid out on the table. Preston gave a curt nod and pulled a chair into place and sat, soon after the Captain sat in his chair and commenced the meal. As hunger overtook the need for conversation, it was mostly quiet, except for the lapping of waves and other ship-borne noises.

a sed-a-give? Heh, never mind... I'm loopy from an italian disease... Lack-a-sleep-a

Not just for sailors...

Agreed... most impressive... Truly a work of art in a weapon... You have inspired me to modify a cutlass I have... and it need a scabbard as well... hmmmm... Excellent work!

Dorian looked at Mister Flint, then to Mister Pew. He slowly nodded. "Hatrick... Young Ian... Aye... He's barely a man... sixteen or seventeen years I b'lieve..." The Captain slowly turned and paced forward past the table of food, the aroma more powerful than ever, yet he ignored it. Reaching the forward bulkhead he turned and paced back to his Master-at-Arms. Once he had returned to his former position he stood looking out the stern windows. After a moment of silence he spoke one word. "No..." He turned to Flint and saw the slight crease in his brow. "Mister Hatrick is young... impressionable... trainable... Thus, you shall train him. You shall take the callow youth and train him in th' art o' th' marine. He's a fine sailor, not yet grown into a man, yet seasoned. He be green as a soldier, as are several others. Tis your job ta shape them… Season ‘em…” He stood and looked at Bill, waiting to see if he might have any further objections… Instead he saw a different look on the mans’ face. Like a challenge had been issued to him. He wore a look of knowing he had work to do, something he would enjoy. Dorian nodded. “Aye… Hatrick will remain as a marine… If ye think th’ ranks are too thin… I’ll allow up ta four more crewmen ta be added as marines…” He looked at Preston who nodded agreeably, then to Bill, waiting to hear his thoughts on the matter.

The knock at the door to the wardroom was not expected, nor was it unexpected. Dorian had not yet gotten used to the demands of the captain of such a ship as this. It was a weighty thing, but not so heavy as to be such a burden to the Irishman. Again the Captain straightened in his chair. “Enter…” The door creaked open and in marched the Master-at-Arms. He did not walk or stroll but marched as if he were in the royal guard, saluted and stood at attention. “Mister Flint… You have something to report?” Bill nodded and was about to speak, but a sound behind him made him look back. The door had not closed, due to Miss Ashcombe and a heavily laiden tray in her hands. She balanced the tray carefully and made her way inside the room, Dorian cleared the table of the ledgers and motioned for her to set the tray there. Dorian stood and moved to the stern windows, motioning Mister Flint over.

Wot's this? Me? In Trouble? Noooooo...... Not me...

Look for us.. we are there... Black Syren is the 'pub gang' leader... Hmm... a bunny... someone call you a bunny?

William... You Are A Wildman...

Dorian looked at his Ship’s Master. He saw the look of question on his face and knew the question asked was just the beginning. “Aye Preston, th’ ledger’s lookin’ fine… care ta look through it? Tis yer duty now…” Captain Lasseter handed Mister Pew the general ledger that contained the stores and daily workings of the ship. The other ledger, which Dorian had in front of him contained the names and ranks of the crew, the prize monies awarded to whom, etc… There were still men who needed to collect their shares, but they were ashore presently. Dorian watched as Preston juggled his drink and the ledger as he tried to look through the tome.

Hehehe... Polishing Brightwork... Did that for seven years on a Submarine (SS 481) And I wasn't in the Navy! Add to that a mark VII diving suit helmet and gear. It wasn't all bad... On Topic; Brasso and NeverDull pads... that'll work..

Wardroom of the Lucy Men came and left all the richer with their shares. Preston imbibed the captains’ spirits. The smell of good food wafted from the galley causing Dorian’s stomach to growl some. As a man left and another had not yet arrived, Dorian smiled. “Miss Ashcombe? If you choose, you may continue to act as my Steward… and if you would be so kind, go to the galley, have a meal and bring th’ same fer the Master and I…” Preston at first gave the Captain an odd look. He had not known Miss Ashcombe was present. As a point of fact, he thought he and Dorian were alone in the wardroom. He straightened and nodded to the woman as she peeked around the canvas hanging.