Dorian Lasseter

Aye... I believe said by................. "Tim".....

I was thrown by yer sharky there...

Excellent my goode man...

The boat from the Heron had deposited Captain Lasseter on the Wharf and the two men rowed back to their ship. He watched them go and also turned his eyes east and felt the breeze freshen. But, it was heavy. Heavy with moisture. He noted the clouds thickening and turned away, heading at a brisk pace into the town. Dorian made his way through the town, watched as others knew of the pending storm batten down their homes and storefronts. Only a handful closed, most of the street vendors with their carts went to seek out shelter. The Captain made his way to check on his recent purchases, some were ready, others not quite. He would wait for his fine suit to be finished on the morrow. He decided against heading to the chandlers as he feared he would either get caught in the weather on his way there or from the warehouse. Instead, he chose to wind his way towards the Surgeons’ property, and hopefully, a wakeful Master-at-Arms.

Second bell of the Forenoon Watch

Dorian had finished shaving and dressing, with only a couple interruptions by the Pooka, and no damage done to his face while shaving. He had bathed in the now warm pot of water after shaving, then dressed in his clean clothes. Heading on deck Dorian addressed the Boatswain.

“Mister Tucker, a fine morn?”

“Aye Cap’n, tis a cool morn thus far. Might have a bit o’ rain later though, looks ta be clouds a-formin’ yonder.”

He pointed across the bay east. Dorian shaded his eyes from the morning sun and saw what the Boatswain saw. There was a red haze and what appeared to be clouds forming.

“Aye, ye be right… Have Jameson keep a sharp eye on th’ weather. I’ll be headed ashore ta check on Mister PEW, among other issues at hand. Please have the ships boat ready shortly.”

Mister Tucker knuckled his forelock and moved to the waist and got Brocke and Press to man the sweeps of the boat. Dorian climbed down into the boat and ordered the men to row to the Watch Dog first then to shore. The short distance was spanned to the Frigate, where Captain Lasseter informed the watch of where he would be, to inform Captain Brand of such. Once his message was delivered, He headed to shore.

1 August, 1704

Eight Bells of the Morning Watch

Fort Royal, Martinique

Tis marked;

J.J.MEDER&ZOON

SCHIEDAM.Holland

It holds quite a bit of liquid... bit on the heavy side, but too cool to leave sitting around...

I picked this up, tis a dutch bottle. $10, I should have bought more, but I can get more from the sutler later.

I recall somewhere seeing simular bottles found on shipwrecks.

I've seen onion bottles and other glass bottles, but I love this fired clay vessel.

I plan to use this at events.

Good?

Bad?

Ugly?

I also recommend Barkertown Sutlers, where I got mine.

http://www.barkertownsutlers.com/

It looks fitted, but thats just because of the belt over it, holding my bellybox.

Price was middling, $145, but in my opinion, well worth it. Listed as a sleeved waistcoat with metal buttons. You'll have to call for specifics...

Contact William Red Wake or Dorian Lasseter via PM or Email...

or

in the Ward Room

http://www.the-watchdog.com/Chat

Just ta refresh...

Heh,

Aye, bad teeth.... a wee bit o' scurvy'll do tha' to ya...

Right then.

Come now, M'inkwell gonna dry up soon iffn' ye don't step lively now.

Captain Lasseter had summoned Miss Moore for a bowl of hot water so he might shave. While he waited for her return, he pulled out a clean shirt, slops, and stockings. All the while the Pooka watched him. When Dorian was still, he padded over and rubbed his head against one of the captain’s legs, hoping for more attention. When it did not come, he chose to press his wet nose against the leg he had rubbed, which caused a better reaction.

“Gah! Ye rascal, ‘ow is it that yer nose can be so cold?”

Dorian reached down and gave the feline some attention until he threw himself on the ground, waiting for the man to rub his belly. Dorian chuckled and straightened, going back to his former business. Pooka laid there for a moment longer, purring. Seeing his wish would not be fulfilled, he rolled over and stood, and walked over to the chair and began rubbing his face on a leg. Callie returned with the hot water and Dorian thanked her, asking what was the morning fare. Slightly flustered, she thought for a moment.

“Ah, Captain sir, I’ve not yet started the meal. I have started some coffee. “

She wore a look hoping he would not be cross. Dorian slowly sighed.

“I see. Go on then and get something in th’ pot. Th’ crew’ll want a good meal soon enough. Find me a spot o’ tea as well.”

“Aye Captain!”

Callie scampered off to her domain. Dorian stood and watched her go, when she was gone he smiled and slowly shook his head. He looked to the pot of hot water she had left and ran a hand across his chin. He walked the short distance to his chest and opened the lid. Removing his shave kit and mirror, he closed the lid and walked to the table. There he readied himself for a shave. He dipped his brush into the water and moistened the shave soap. He did this a couple times until a good lather was produced. He then carefully dipped a piece of linen into the water and squeezed it out gently. He spread this on his face for a time, then laid it aside. He took up the lathered brush and began to apply sudsy soap to his whiskers. Once his whiskers were covered he took up the mirror and hung it on a bulkhead where the sunlight was best. He examined his application of lather and finding a spot not covered to his liking, took up the brush and applied more lather. He pulled out his razor and carefully thumbed the edge. Narrowing his eyes as he did so, he nodded and took up one of his belts. He hung the buckle on a hook and stretched the leather tightly. He stroked the razor across the smooth leather several times until he was satisfied. Released the belt and again thumbed the edge. A small nod indicated his approval. As he walked to the mirror, Callie appeared with a steaming mug. He bid her to place it on the table and thanked her. He took up the piece of linen and draped it on his left arm and approached his reflection. Dorian took in a slow breath and with his left hand drew tight the skin on his right cheek. Up came the razor and he made his first stroke.

Six Bells of the Morning Watch

1 August 1704

Four Bells of the Morning Watch

Dorian had waked at first light as it streamed into the ward room of the Heron. He lay in his hammock and listened to the sounds of the ship and crew. He jumped as the pooka hopped up onto his chest, startling him. He began to scratch the cat behind the ears as the feline settled onto his chest. Captain Lasseter shifted his pistol to his side so he had more room. Even though the cat purred loudly, Dorian could still hear the workings of his ship. All sounded at rest above and below. A breeze came with the lightening of the sky and the Heron swung on her hook, turning bow into the wind like a weathervane. He knew every ship in the bay turned likewise. As the bells struck above four times, he decided it was time to roll out. He gentle lifted the feline off his chest and rolled out of his hammock, bent down and placed the animal on the deck, scruffed his head once more and stood tall, stretching his back. He then went through the morning routine and readied himself for a new day. Many things were on his list to do, one of which was a visit to the Master-at-Arms ashore.

Dorian turned away from the small boat as it pulled away from the Heron and surveyed his craft. Though weary and full of rich food and wine, he would not be derelict in his duties. He headed aft to the quarterdeck and was amused to see the Coxswain standing and giving attention to the ships cat as he perched on the binnacle.

“Mister Tucker… All is well I am to assume?”

“Aye Sah, all is as it should be.”

Dorian smiled and stroked the cats head.

“Very well… I’ll be in m’cabin… gonna retire in the next hour. Alert me of anything out of the ordinary.”

“Aye Sah”

Lucky Tuck saluted Dorian and the captain turned away, heading below. Once in the ward room he relieved himself of his weapons and outer garments. He poured some fresh water into the basin and splashed his face. Patting off the excess moisture with a linen towel, he hung it on his shoulder and walked to his sea chest with a thought to pull out his razor, but once there he realized how tired he was. It would wait til morning. He instead got out his hammock and blew out all but one candle, took one of the fine pocket pistols with him and settled in for some rest. Soon he was dreaming of a time in a different port, a different time.

Well...

The Scuttlebutt was created for all to use....

I try ta be in there when I can... usually I'm in the WardRoom though...

Aboard the Heron

He padded across the deck slowly, stopping on occasion to listen to the men talking and watching what they did. He would come up close and rub against a leg and wait for some acknowledgment from the owner. Usually a hand would pat his head or ruff his neck for a short time. After a time he’d move on to another person when the previous one lost interest. After making rounds to most of the crew, avoiding a couple men who were either loud or moved around too much for his liking, he headed to the quarterdeck and jumped up onto the binnacle. It was a perfect spot to look down upon the men. He settled himself there and appeared to doze while the crew worked or walked the deck of the ship. Lucky Tuck walked up to the binnacle and smiled at the Pooka, reached out and scratched the large feline on the head, producing a loud purr. He stopped his attention only to be grabbed by the Pooka and made to continue attending to the cat.

An assortment...

More axes...

A nice poleaxe with a hook...

Hmmm...

Nasty, pointed teeth...

Death comes to ye by way o' someone wi' bad teeth?

I always thought it'd be by sword, gun, r' th' noose...

Dorian slowly nodded. He smiled grimly. He picked up his freshly filled glass and offered it up to the Spanish captain and his officers.

“To Cap’n Voulet… An masterful tactician…”

He drank the toast and replaced his glass on the table before anyone else moved. When he looked up from his glass to all faces turned to him. He merely nodded again and let the silence continue.

As glasses were refilled yet again, Captain Lasseter wondered aloud something that had bothered him.

“Odd that th’ English who attacked you wi’ superior numbers gave up th’ chase. What might you ‘ave thrown at ‘em ta make ‘em do such? Tis not like ‘em ta shy away from such a prize….”

He did not ask it as a challenge, but more of a subtle inquiry, and waited for any who dared to answer it.

As Dorian drank the salute given to Miss Smith, subtle as it was, he watched the expressions on those Spanish about him. They were a mix of curiosity, admiration, and disbelief. He hid the smile that plucked at his lips by swirling the contents of his glass and inhaling the bouquet. He took another sip and set the glass on the table, keeping his expression neutral as more small talk was made. He also made note of the Lieutenant who found renewed interest in Miss Smith still looking her way intently. He also noted Miss Smith warming up her charm, a tool favoured by the fairer sex, and one that he hoped might bare fruit during the rest of the evening aboard the Spanish vessel.

Dorian chuckled but covered it with a cough as he descended into the waiting boat. He arranged his sword as he sat, and noticed Miss Smith eying his blade.

“Aye, I thought I’d be gracious to our hosts… And aye, I do know the rapier well…”

She nodded with a smile and continued to make small adjustments on her person. Small talk was made on the short trip over to the Spanish ship and soon a voice called out in that tongue, asking who was approaching. Captain Brand called out in English.

“Ahoy the Navarra! Capitaine Avendano has invited us from the Watch Dog to dine!”

Some more Spanish was spoken on deck in lower volume and another spoke in heavily accented English.

“Si, if you are capitaine Brand and guests, we bid you to come aboard, por favour.”

“Aye, I am Captain Brand of the Watch Dog, along with Captain Lasseter of the Heron and my Steward!”

Acquiescence was given and the longboat bumped against the ship and was steadied. William gave orders to the longboaters to wait, even though he knew it may be a long evening. They all had pistols about them, as ordered. So, they remained in the boat for the moment. Both William and Dorian helped Miss Smith aboard, and watched as those on deck were mildly shocked at the appearance of such a finely dressed woman, identified as the Steward of the Watch Dog. Slightly awkward welcomes were exchanged and accepted. Captain Avendano stood with his Lieutenant beside him, waiting to address the two captains and steward.

The two captains were on deck and the hour grew late. The sky darkened and William spoke of the invitation to dine aboard the Spanish ship. Dorian had dressed for William’s visit to the newly refitted Cutter, so he need not change into finery. The only additions he decided upon were a change of weaponry. He knew the Spanish still carried rapiers, so he decided to compliment them by wearing his. Of course he also wore his sea service pistol, as Captain Brand carried a pistol openly. Dorian had found a set of fine pocket pistols in the town and offered one to William. He graciously turned it down, so Dorian put one in each of his coat pockets.

“Not too bad… rather light actually… I do believe I’m ready ta dine… by your leave, shall we?”

As they headed out on deck they saw a feminine form climb down into the longboat from the waist of the Watch Dog.

Anyone own a Jeep? (A real Jeep, like a Wrangler, not a Cherokee or a Liberty.) I guess they scrape the bottom of the barrel in ol' CR, but people who buy them really seem to like them.

AHhhh....

A real Jeep... I never have owned a CJ, wouldn't mind one for a toy...

I have owned several other Real Jeeps... J-Series Jeeps, J-10 Pickups and Grand Wagoneers... Talk about go anywhere and take a licking and keep on ticking...

AMC Jeeps....

I wish they were still in business...

I also wish chrysler would get their head out of their arse and produce the new Gladiator Jeep Pickup already!!!!

Dorian nodded after a while. He paced the short distance to the stern windows and back.

“Aye… Jim would do well… I have no qualms wi’ that…”

Again he paced the short distance.

“An’ Aye… I had not expected ta relinquish my hold on what I was on th’ Dog… I am still th’ quartermaster there… be hard pressed ta let go o’ some things…”

He smiled and nodded, then continued his short pacing, musing on any other additions to the crew, and shifts of responsibilities.

Dorian looked serious for a moment, then slowly smiled at William.

“Insult me gerl while in ‘er wardroom… “

He too chuckled, then sighed, which turned into a yawn. He shook it off and again stood.

“Aye, a short name, a shortened one actually…. B’fore we leave this port, I plan ta do the change o’ name with all ceremony… should be a fine thing. What say you?”