Dorian Lasseter

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.

Tragic loss...

He was a great actor for doing period pieces... really fit the parts...

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam

Greg,

That is a great neckerchief!!!!

All I ever find are solid or checked... Any prints I find are too small, like handkerchief size...

If I found that, I'd hope they had two of them and hoped I could afford both.

Awesome find!!!

Wardroom of the Lucy

Dorian rubbed is chin and thought about the men who seemed to have disappeared. A fearful thought crept into his head, which he tried to dismiss. Ajayi was found chained as a slave and when he was rescued by the Watch Dog, he was freed from the fate of such. But now there was a possibility that fate had come to pass. He shook his head abruptly, not giving the thought any weight. Three men of the Watch Dog, well armed, did not just disappear. They would either appear of their own will, or that of others from the two ships. A knock at the door caused both men to come out of whatever deep thoughts they were having.

“Enter…”

The door opened and now the first of the men requested to report for his shares stood in the doorway. Captain Lasseter turned to Mister Pew.

“This won’t take long… help yerself to a drink lad.”

Preston nodded and stepped across to the cabinet and made a selection as the crewman approached at the bidding of Dorian.

Captain Lasseter sat and counted out shares as he waited for the first of the crew to report for their shares when a knock came.

“Ah, th’ first man…”

He cleared his throat, looked to where Miss Ashcombe had retired and sat a touch straighter in his chair.

“Enter!”

He looked up, expecting one of his sailors and instead in came Mister Pew.

“Preston… What news?”

The waist of the Lucy

After making his considerations of the four men in front of him, Captain Lasseter gave the barest of nods.

“I can make ye no promises at th’ moment…. See that ship yonder? That be th’ Watch Dog an’ Lucy be her consort. Cap’n William Brand commands that ship, an’ he’ll be th’ one to speak with. We’ve had a busy time these past days, so I don’t know when he’ll have time ta see you men about bein’ signed on… Wait here an’ I’ll write a pass for ye ta board th’ Frigate. One thing… you have any arms other than a working knife, leave ‘em ashore, would be best for ye.”

He gave them a stern look and turned back to the Wardroom. Once inside he smiled to the young woman within and bade her to return to what she was doing. He found a blank piece of parchment and penned a note to William saying he had received the shares and would be dispensing them soon, and about the four men seeking work, saying they looked able by what he could tell. He wrote their names as he remembered them and that he would give them a ‘pass’ to board and wait for his audience. He also wrote that he would send Miss Ashcombe over after the second dog watch began. As a last bit he wrote about the reasoning of her being called “Miss Poole” so as to defer any happenstance with Miss McDonough. Dorian signed it, folded the parchment several times once the ink was dry and affixed it with wax. Withdrawing a separate piece, he then penned a ‘pass’ for the four men, again naming the four men to match what he would send to William. Again he folded and affixed this with a wax seal. The first latter was marked directly for Captain Brand of the Watch Dog, while the ‘pass’ was marked ‘The Watch Dog’. He took these out with him and to the waiting men.

“Here is your pass, just for the four of you…”

The men smiled yet remained a nervous lot and half thanked him in English, while the other half did so in French. All four gave a salute of a sort and Paul turned and ushered the other three away. Dorian turned to Nigel and held out the letter for Captain Brand, and the parchment with the list of men to receive shares.

“I’ll need this delivered to Cap’n Brand right away… Pick some trusted lads to deliver it. And this, I’ll need ye ta send me these lads one at a time fer their shares, post a marine at my door… Yers are tucked away already.”

He chuckled at Nigel who smiled and knuckled his brow.

“Aye sah, more ta be tucked away fer me then.”

Dorian nodded and returned to the wardroom where he again sat at his table, pulled some specie from the crate and began counting out shares, waiting for the first man to knock.

Just after Seven Bells of the Afternoon Watch

Aboard the Lucy

As Dorian transcribed the information from Captain Brand’s letter into the Lucy’s ledger, a quiet came about the Wardroom. The two people within were sharing a space yet were in very different places. Dorian, dealing with the goings on of his ship and crew, Jenny dealing with remembrance of her past and what was to be her future. As the Captain had finished writing the shares to be given to those deserving, he had also penned those names on a separate piece of parchment. This he would give to Mister Brisbane, so he might easily send those men aft for their shares. The only part that bothered Dorian was that roughly half his crew would not receive these shares as they had no part in them. Not only that, but those men freshly aboard were penniless having just come from prison. He hoped nothing ill would come of this, half his men wealthy, the other half poor as dirt. He mused on this a moment while rereading the letter, and at this time also came to another decision.

“Miss Ashcombe, Cap’n Brand requests and requires you to ‘ave an audience wi’ him aboard th’ Watch Dog… I’ll have ye go o’er with some men around th’ second Dog Watch.”

He turned and looked at her, noting some apprehension on her face. All she did was nod an affirmative and held her chin up, the apprehension disappearing to be replaced with determination. Satisfied he turned back to his work, looked over the ledger and other notes he had. Getting up he went over to the crate with the shares and slid it over to the table. Dorian checked the contents, and satisfied al was well he picked up the parchment for Mister Brisbane and walked to the door. Upon opening the door to the deck he noted some men at work yet seeming distracted. He followed their gaze to a small group of men standing at the gangplank having words with just the man he was seeking. The Captain surmised the situation and ducked back into the Wardroom to gather his coat and hat and adjusted the pistol on his belt before heading over to where his man stood.

“Mister Brisbane… Is everything alright here?”

Dorian closed the door and walked back to the table with the letter from William. He sat and laid the parchment there in front of himself, and in a way Miss Ashcombe. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop a couple times, then decided on what he wanted to do.

“Miss Ashcombe, I should read this in private. I’ll… I’ll just excuse myself…”

He picked up the letter and walked to the stern windows where he opened the folds flat and read the contents. He read it slowly several times and had just folded it back the way it was when yet again there was a knock. He expected this actually, and briskly walked to the door again. He opened the door and let those men who carried the small crate heavy with specie in where he directed them to set it off to the side. He dismissed the men and Miss Smith one last time. He closed the door and set the latch, walked back to the table and again sat.

“Miss Ashcombe, be at your leisure, I have work ta do… I cannot offer you much more than th’ cot of last night for comfort. Th’ evenin’ meal is a couple hours away as well. I’ll just need some time to write an’ count out coin. Then there will be a flow of men come ta collect their shares. At that time, ye may take to yer cot b’hind th’ canvas shade… if ye wish.”

He left it at that and opened the newest ledger on the table, opened the drawer and withdrew an inkpot and brass nibbed pen.

Six Bells of the Afternoon Watch

The Captain of the Lucy eyed the parchment Miss Smith held and as she spoke of the shares for the crew he slowly smiled.

“Very good Miss Smith… Have th’ officer on deck lend ye some hands… Thankee fer th’ delivery, my men will be quite happy with their shares… “

He took the letter from her and she gave him a quick salute before heading back across the deck.

As Miss Ashcombe spoke, the Captains’ countenance changed after she talked of the slave trade and her uncle being one who dealt with such. It brought back memories of his time aboard a blackbirdier in his youth. It also brought up a surge of anger, an anger he felt for those in the trade of human flesh, so many thought nothing of it. His father told him of the English making slaves of his kin, which still happened to this day. He seemed to not be paying attention to her as she spoke, but when Jenny mentioned Miss McDonough he focused on her again fully. Dorian nodded as she finished.

“Don’t ye worry about Miss McDonough… I’ll be sure ta straighten that out. I’ll speak more wi’ Cap’n Brand and I’m sure we’ll see you to another port… I s’pose we’ll try ta call ya Miss Poole til we’re outta this port?”

Jenny seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and was about to say something when there was a knock on the wardroom door. She tensed at the knock and looked slightly pale.

“A moment…”

Dorian stood and walked to the door and lifted the latch, opening it a crack. There stood Miss Smith from the Watch Dog.

“Miss Smith… Wot’s brought ye ta my door?”

Stale beer would be too good... skunked beer would be better... heh

Hmmm....

Aye, they will pay dearly...

Well... will we have this person's ID?

SO they might be dealt with in a democratic way...