Dorian Lasseter

compression

Hmmmm....

Pizza anyone?

Yeah, Bacon Pizza....

Aboard the Heron

The day was a fine day after a storm. The humidity was up, but it was burning off as the day progressed. Captain Lasseter had spent the morning on deck, keeping company with those of his crew aboard. As noontime approached many of the crew were given time to gather their gear for their shoreleave. Even the Captain was looking forward to another tip ashore, hoping to complete the errands he had abandoned during the storm the day before. As he was talking to young Patrick Godfrey, asking what he planned to do ashore, his attention was drawn to the Watch Dog. There were shouts and some other movements on deck. Dorian grabbed up the ships spyglass and looked as others on deck grew silent and strained their eyes looking as well. The Captain watched as several men were brought up onto the quarterdeck and Mister Franklin berated them, he pointed towards the Heron once or twice, among other locations, possibly on the frigate and the shore. Even though sound carried across the water, Dorian did not catch and full words, but he guessed at some of them. As he looked through the glass, things settled. Two of the men headed below, the other two moved forward, under the eye of the big Russian fellow, Luc. Dorian lowered the glass and tapped it on the rail.

“Well gennlemen… I may be delayed on m’trip ashore… No worries fer you lads… Couple minutes now an’ yer off ta revelry… “

The conversations picked up around the Captain of the Heron again and many actually watched the sandglass, waiting for the time to head ashore.

It would be a lot different without the ol'porcelain ralph.

Where does one find the toilet to do one's business? We'd be doin it ln the back yard like ol' rover'.....that includes the number two.

The 'Seat of Ease' has been around in some form or another for centuries...

The Outhouse in the back, or some indoor setup... Chamberpots as well...

Onboard ships... In the navy, the term is 'The Head'... Meaning, you go to the 'head' of the ship, the beakshead, which is where the seats of ease were located... which were essentially holes in 'benches' on each side... open to the elements...

Mayhaps Foxe might provide us with some images of the head on his fine vessel...

Modern medicine, big one there...

Sanitary conditions, for anything from eating on down...

Might be too enthralled to miss else...

Recording devices... would want to record all this, if I were coming back to the present...

Heh....

Well..... Bacon master....

Three cheers for Captain William Bacon... er.... Brand...!

Hip-hip... Hurray!

Hip-hip... Hurray!

Hip-hip... HURRAY!!!

Ville du St. Louis, Martinique

Christopher Tucker had a fine time ashore. He was soon to be heading back to the Heron, back to duties on the ship. He’d spent a goodly amount of specie on many a sundry thing and woman. As the tower clock struck eleven times, he began to pack up his things faster. It was a brisk walk to the wharf and then the trip over in one of the boats and he needed to be away in less than a quarter of an hour to make it. He was sure either Captain Lasseter or Nigel the Cox’n would have much to tell him before he took his post when he got there, so he hoped he might get back early. ‘Lucky Tuck’ got his seabag ready, slung it over his shoulder and looked about the room. He had everything he came ashore with, and more. He began to hum a lively tune from the evening before and a smile crossed his face as he remembered a fine lass he danced with. As he left the tavern his pace quickened, finding his way through the streets and was soon within sight of the wharf. Already several of the Heron’s crew stood about near a landing trading stories of the last evenings adventures.

The Heron

Captain Lasseter had slept well enough through the night. He had be awakened by a shout at one point, but since no other noise of the like followed, he settled back into slumber. When the seventh bell of the Morning Watch had sounded, he opened his eyes, realizing he has slept past sunrise. Stretching he slowly roller out of his hammock and landed squarely on his feet. Pacing over to the table he lay his pistol there and stretched in ernest, touching the overhead with his palms. He yawned and swung his arms about, getting the blood flowing. After a wash and drinking two cups of water he dressed and just as the change of the watch, made his way on deck, smelling coffee as he opened the door. Up on the quarterdeck stood the Coxswain. His eyes were slightly puffy and he held a steaming mug. He nodded and greeted Dorian as he approached.

“Mornin’ Cap’n… a chill this morn, but all’s well. Cap’n Brand has gone ashore not long ago.”

Dorian nodded and a shiver went through him. He eyed the mug in Nigel’s hand, nodding his head to it he asked a question just as he took a drink.

“How’s th’ coffee this morn?”

Nigel swallowed a mouthful with almost a look of pain. He politely spit out some grinds away from the Captain.

“It’s…. passable, Cap’n… barely…”

Dorian held back a laugh.

“We shall see that remedied soon enough, old man… Cap’n Brand’ll be sending us an honest to god cook with th’ new recruits some time this day. Sadly, that means we’ll be either demotin’ Miss Moore ta cooks assistant…”

Nigel gave the Captain a raised eyebrow.

“Sadly? That’s a blessin’ Sah.”

Dorian cracked a smile and chuckled.

“Aye, Nigel… a true cook will be quite welcomed aboard, by one and all I think.”

Both men nodded in agreement and not long after they spoke of her, Miss Moore appeared with a steaming mug for the Captain. Dorian hoped she remembered he was not much for coffee, but rather tea in the morning. Luck held out for him, as she presented him with just that, hot tea.

“Morning captain, your morning tea?”

“Aye Miss Moore, thankee… How are you this day?”

“I fare well, captain, as I hope you do?”

“Aye Gerl, I do… Thank you.”

She nodded and quickly saluted before retreating towards the bow. Both men watched her go then looked to each other. Dorian blew on his tea and took a sip. He looked into the mug and fished out some loose leaves, and pulled one off his lip. He shrugged and decided he’d have a talk with her later.

“Nigel…. Yer relieved, I have th’ deck, get some sleep. Oh, by the way, what was that yelling last night?”

The Coxswain tried to hide a smile and cleared his throat.

“Nothin’ ta be worried about, Sah. Just teachin’ a lesson ta one o’ th’ lads.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows and slowly shook his head.

“I see… Off with you.”

“Aye, Sah.”

Captain Lasseter was then left to the rest of the morning as the port began another bustling day.

First Bell of the Forenoon Watch

2 August, 1704

Aboard the Heron

Patrick O’Hara got the duty of Lookout during the early hours of predawn. At first he was giddy with the assignment, looking here and there, scrutinizing the other ships nearby with his glass, and generally spying on anything he could focus on. After two hours had passed, he was no longer giddy. As a point of fact, he was down right falling asleep with boredom. He would nod and bounce his head back up, shake it and look around. This became a routine every five to ten minutes until Nigel spotted him doing so. Instead of calling out to the lad and reprimanding him, he walked quietly to the ratlines and slowly began to ascend. He’d stop every time the lad looked around, waited until the boy settled in, then climbed higher. When he reached the base of the lookout post he waited. As Patrick started to nod, he reached up and grabbed him by the ankle. The boy let out a holler that could very well have woken the dead and dropped the glass, which he had luckily secured the lanyard to his wrist, so it only fell a short distance. His eyes, wide as saucers looked down at what had him. There was the Coxswain looking up at him, grinning an evil grin with laughter in his eyes.

“Now then, Mister O’Hara, will ye be awake enough for the rest of yer time as lookout?”

Once Patrick caught his breath he shakily answered with an ‘Aye, Sah’, knuckled his head and pulled the glass up into his hands. Nigel slowly backed down the ratlines, still grinning until he reached the deck, then resumed his place on the Holy Ground.

The Coxswain of the Heron had paced the small quarterdeck for several hours since the Captain had retired. He saw two boats head to the Watch Dog, one of which he clearly heard Mister Franklin call out from. Nigel had put the spyglass to his eye several times, watching the goings on. He watched Eric and Captain Brand on the quarterdeck, drinks in hand. It looked to be a quiet night. He called Smyth aft to the small spot of holly ground, giving the deck over to him so he might answer the call of nature. Walking to the head he passed other crew, nods and salutes were exchanged. Once he had finished his business he headed to his quarters. He checked on his pets he had kept first on the Watch Dog, now on the Heron. He opened the box and looked inside, smiled and reached a hand in. He pulled out one, then the other and held them up into the light. They were rats.

“How ye fairin’ Ash, Coal? Yer lovely you are…”

He looked at then, petted them for a short time and finally put them back in their box. He gently placed it back where he had it and straightened up his space and made his way back on deck. Nigel thanked Mister Smyth and took over the watch again.

Two Bells of the Mid Watch

2 August, 1704

Rizzo: Terrific. Captured by crazed wild pigs and sacrificed hideously before a pagan altar.

Gonzo: Are we lucky or what?

That's a biiiiig shark....

"This shark, swallow you whole. No shakin', no tenderizin', down you go." Quint

After being blindfolded, Captain Lasseter is handed the stick and led closer to the pinata, spun about and set free.

"How many swings do I get? Silkie took three, so shall I!"

He swings in a wide arc and just barely hits it, now knowing where it hangs he turns on it and takes a second swing... Swooooosh - wap!

Reverses his swing for the thrice... Swooooosh - Wap!

"Did I split it open?"

He holds his stick, waiting to see if he gets a surprise.

Ahhhhrrrrrr!!!

'Nother pinata, eh?

Give it here, I'll hang it just so...

Don't ye start yer swingin' til I's clear away!!!

Lovely...

What a wonderful spread!

Keep th' drinks flowin' an' the food comin' from th' kitchen!

We'll keep th' party goin' til William's Natal day!!!

Arrrr!!!

Slainte!

Aye!

Thankee Lass...

*Walks over and sits at the head of the grande table in the Kate. *

William... I'll have a dram o' yer finest... Aye, th' goode stuff, th' really goode stuff...

Come on in, one an' all!

Slainte!!!

Taken from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grog

It is very widely believed that the name "grog" came from the nickname of Admiral Edward "Old Grog" Vernon, but since the word appears in a book written by Daniel Defoe in 1718, well before Admiral Vernon's West Indian career began, and 22 years before his famous order to dilute the rum ration, this cannot be so. Significantly, it is in the 1718 book (The Family Instructor, Part II) a little former slave boy, Toby, from Barbados, who is the character using the word, stating that "the black mans" in the West Indies "make the sugar, make the grog, much great work, much weary work all day long." Since Defoe had trading interests which gave him connections at the great seaports of the day, it is likely that he had heard the word used by similar visitors to Britain from the West Indies. At any rate, the word seems to definitely have entered English from the West Indies - it may have an African origin. It is likely, therefore, that "Old Grog"'s nickname came from the drink, rather than from his cloak and that his family put about the story about the grogram cloak to cover up this minor shame. However, while the word "grog" referring to rum antedates Vernon's rations, the use of the word to refer to diluted rum may post-date him.

So... this was a quick search, I do believe there's more elsewhere, but I'll not be lookin' it up right this minute. Hope it helps...

Captain Lasseter bid Captain Brand farewell for the evening. Once he saw William off he made a round on deck and below, making sure all was well. Returning to the Ward Room, he cleaned up the glasses and bottles, acting as his own Steward. He was pleased at the new crew he would be getting, pleased that there might be more too. He sat at the table and looked at the game box again and smiled, wondering where it came from in William’s travels. He yawned again as he wondered and decided it was time for some sleep. He headed out and told Mister Brisbane, then prepared himself for sleep. Tomorrow he had to accomplish all he hadn’t today, plus what was planned for the morrow as well. Busy was the word for the morrow… very busy. He resigned himself to it as he climbed into his hammock and pulled a light cover over himself. He still wore his knife and laid a pistol across his chest beneath the cover, just because. A little caution never hurt.

business cards

Aboard the Heron

The game had been a good one, Dorian knew Will was playing in earnest, especially with the last set of moves. He hid a smile as he jumped the last piece the Captain of the Watch Dog had on the board and sat back.

“Ya play a mean game, Will… I look forward to more of ‘em… an’ mayhaps when I c’n remember all th’ rules, we’ll be more inclined for backgammon.”

William smiled warmly.

“I look forward to that Dorian, truly I do.”

Dorian yawned, looking surprised as he did so.

“Pardon me… Hmm… Alright… I’ll keep th’ box fer now… next time, winner keeps it an’ so on…”

He spoke authoritatively, not as if he were asking for a comment in return. Dorian picked up all the pieces and deposited them into the box, shut it and clicked the clasp in place. He left it in the center of the table, as if a piece for display. Its craftsmanship lent to such a thing. Both men stood, as if reading each others thoughts that it was time to retire.

“Well William, on the morrow I will return to shore yet again. The storm prevented me from gathering some items in town, and completing other tasks. I hope to check in on some of the others ashore as well.”

Sorry Lad... it ain't a typo....

You on'y got th' one... try it wi' six someday....

Mind you, they do have ta sleep sometime, and sleep alot...

Dorian stopped placing pieces and looked at William.

“An actual cook ye say? I’d happily take him on in that case, long as it won’t cause issue.”

He continued placing the pieces while William looked on.

No more takers, aye?

Pity... thought their would be livelier lot 'round 'ere...

More fun fer us then...

Unless.... anyone?

Aboard the Heron

Dorian’s brow wrinkled and one side of his mouth curled into a grin as he pulled the object closer. It appeared to be a box, roughly eight inches by four inches by one and a half, maybe two inches. Pulling off the linen covering he revealed a finely inlayed box. He had seen one or two like it, but never one as finely made. It was a game box.

“Backgammon and Draughts… This’ exquisite Will… “

He turned it over in his hands, marveling at the intricately inlaid outside, made up for Draughts. The pearl inlay flashed in the candle light and the other squares were quite detailed in black, white, and red. Finding the latch he carefully opened it to reveal the lovingly worn pieces, including several small dice. The interior was even more detailed with the backgammon board. Varied shades of natural wood, greens and black. Dorian touched all the pieces and carefully shut and latched the box. Staring at the box he slowly shook his head.

“I can’t accept it Will… tis grande indeed an’ I see you’ve taken much care with it. Much like a part o’ ye.”

Dorian placed it on the linen and went to slide it across the table to William, who in turn placed a hand on the opposite edge.

“Yes, you can accept it and you will… It is mine to give and I give it to you.”

He kept it stationary until Dorian gave up. Again The captain of the Heron shook his head at the captain of the Watch Dog. Taking it up he opened it and carefully emptied the pieces on the table.

“A’right then, we’ll have a game fer it… I challenge, you pick th’ game… winner takes all – no… you’d throw th’ match… Winner decides… Aye…”

William chuckled and took another drink. Dorian waited for his choice of what game would be played. The two men sat as brothers across the table.

Dorian looked over the list again as he considered William’s last words. He then shook his head abruptly once.

“Nay William, keep ‘em til th’ dawn… Better they get a goode look at th’ Heron in full light. And better I get a goode look at ‘em in the daylight as well. So, nine more able seamen wi’ other skills… A goode start indeed. My thanks, Will…”

He brought up his glass and touched it to his and drank. Dorian refilled both their glasses, emptying the bottle doing so. He looked to the remaining shares to be given to the crew ashore upon their return. Gesturing at them he spoke.

“Lets hope that more don’t find ‘emselves so rich as to quit th’ life at sea just yet, otherwise we’ll be gatherin’ many more ta replace ‘em as well.”

He chuckled lightly.

“I’m still astonished at the amount ye got fer th’ Maastricht… Been told I were shrewd in gettin’ my monies worth fer somat… but you… I salute you, Captain…”

Again he lifted his glass to William and they both drank.

"So... wot's on yer agenda fer th' morrow?"