William Brand

William had drawn out his own chair but simply stood, holding the high backed seat. He didn't say anything. He had thought that the argument at the rail had had something to do with the loss of the snow and he had a prepared apology for the zeal of his Master Gunner. This news was not overly surprising, as he had not known the full extent of Bill Flint's injuries. William had witnessed men pronounced dead rise again, obviously not so wounded as believed, but he was also no stranger to superstitious tongues. "Well." he said finally. Then said it again, before sitting down. "So struck down, but not wounded." Nigel offered, and it was both a question and a guess. Dorian made no reply to this, but accepted the glass that William passed to him. A pause hung over the table for a moment and William decided that he would apologize in some form as planned. "Mister Youngblood's...vivacity caused an unfortunate end to the snow." This was an understatement of course, though no true blame could be laid at the feet of one bent to his duty. Still, the prize had been lost and William felt it should be said.

William was standing not far off to his left, but Dorian noticed him last of all. Instead, Dorian gave those men of the frigate a look which was calm, but also daring. William walked forward with the same look fixed upon his own and the men were obliged to look suddenly busy. William almost asked what was wrong, but refrained. Instead he simply gestured to the Ward Room and the two of them fell aft. Only when they were within the quiet privacy of the small room, did William look at Dorian with the question on his face as he gestured to a chair.

A very happy birthday, my young friend. May you live forever in the comforts of your choice.

Maeve was as weary as she had ever been and she made no effort to hide it, but for her silence. When she reached Bill's side she was the very painting of her occupation, being as red outward as she felt inward. She knelt and pressed her hands here and there upon the man and called for a lantern so softly, had those near her not watched in silence, this order might have been lost. It did not help that so many were working to bring the Lucy to the 'Dog, even as the 'Dog was also brought to them, but she blocked all of this out. 'Medicine is an exercise in walls of will', her father had often said. She held up these walls with the willowy remainder of her calm. She was her father's daughter and she would carry this man back from the brink if the man might be brought. She went to work on him there and then in the open air of the Lucy's littered and bruised deck.

William almost laughed, but he was too weary. "News? How is it with you? Is the Lucy much harmed?" Before Captain Lasseter could answer this, the frigate was hailed loudly from the Navarra's smallboats on approach. William and Dorian once again heard the clear, welcoming voice of the Lieutenant. William acknowledged him on approach and called to Dorian, "Let us gam together and speak on matters of the moment!"

William found himself still shouting and stilled himself. The drowning snow had almost claimed the men in the water again and he had never shouted so many orders in such short succession. Now he was at the rail watching the last of them come aboard, half drowned or drowned altogether. Gabriel was so wet with water and lifelessly limp, that he slipped from reaching hands, but it proved an accident to his benefit. As his body struck the deck he sprayed up a great cough and gasp together that sent him into a fit of wet vomiting as he sputtered back to life and rolled over upon the deck. William joined a few others in a small chorus of encouraging voices all telling Gabriel to give the seawater back to the sea. Then, his men safe enough, William was at the rail again. "AHOY, THE LUCY!"

It was hard for William to ignore the noise of the snow grinding upon the Lucy, but ignore it he did for too many of his men were in the water for his liking. Lines had been tossed over for their recovery, but William was still obliged to risk two more men in the recovery of Gabriel Edward. As the rescue played out orders shouted aboard the Navarra carried to them in the dark as she slowed on approach. The men of that ship were lowering away smallboats in a fervor of pending aid. This both pleased William and annoyed him and he found that he did not favor the company of the Spaniards in that moment. Perhaps it was the timing of their arrival, being too late to offer any true assistance, except in form only. Perhaps it was their nearness, sitting as idle observers to the Whole Company's unfortunate loss of the snow. Whatever it was, he wished them anywhere but here. Then Robert Hollis surfaced again sputtering. Cradled under one arm was the limp, lifeless form of Gabriel Edward. He coiled the nearest line about his hand and forearm and cried, "Hall away!"

I would gladly contribute art for the book. Are you still looking for writing contributions as well?

Don't mention it. I will gladly take a watch every night if we don't have enough when the event grows closer. Just giving everyone a chance to man a watch. Just out of curiosity, why not on the even hours and in four hour watches? Midwatch. Morning Watch. You don't have to answer that. I know period watches would be a little long for any of us after tramping around all day.

Sat - Gate Duty 0100-0300 - William Brand/Mercury

Gate Duty 0100-0300 Edward/Arc I will help cover this time slot with Edward.

"this is a very fickle and faithless generation." Said by William Kidd as they slipped the noose around his neck.

No, I noted it, but with the hope that something would change. Sorry that you can't make it this year.

I concur. Follow it up with Key Lime pie and forget eating anywhere else.

Drat...I was thinner in 2005.

William vaulted across the widening gap between the frigate and snow. He made the distance poorly and only the shrouds save him as he cracked one shin on the rail. He had not compensated well for the extra weight nor cling of the water in his clothing. While this self inflicted injury to leg and dignity played out several lines were tossed into the brink and Badger was shouting at everyone, sailor and marine alike. Gavin was treading water with the grace of a panicked cat, having never learned to swim. Hollis had recovered himself enough to keep his head above the water, though he had gone deep in the fall. Gabriel was nowhere to be found.

We have need of it for a few crew members of the Mercury, so I'll claim it on their behalf. Thank you, Jon. We'll see it carefully used and returned to you there.

With all of the commotion of the moment, it was left to Ciaran to remind them of the Navarra's presence, for she was on approach and would soon overtake them or pass them by. It was comforting to have her return, though she had been of no assistance in the engagement, and would remain a heavy laden liability all the way to Trinidad. Still, she was in their charge and they were all but ready to go with her the rest of the way. William and Dorian exchanged a few bits of news that each had witnessed separately in the last quarter of an hour. William was sorry to hear of Lefevre's death, but confused that his mention of so many dead below should give Captain Lasseter pause. He would have asked after Lasseter's disquiet, but they were to busy dodging death's long reach again, for the snow had leaned over enough now, and the weight of water had become so great below, that the damaged mast that had once held the trysail split from where it was secured at the mainmast and the spanker boom was sent swinging freely around the deck. It swung so wide that it knocked John Kingsman soundly off the Lucy's rail and threw him into the bewildered, clumsy, but accepting arms of his fellow sailors. It would have struck Dorian soundly across the back of his skull as it came around, but he saw Benjamin Quigley's eyes widen so much that he ducked and just lost his hat. William, who was a little shorter, had already ducked the swinging beam, but others were not so fortunate. Gabriel Edward and Gavin Montgomery were at the rail of the Lucy with the last objects to go over to the frigate when the boom came around to them. It had lost some of it's force by then, but maintained enough momentum to upset them on the rail. Gabriel went over the side and down at once, but Gavin teetered on the edge, his arm pinwheeling in a way that might have been funny if he wasn't so threatened then. Robert Hollis thrust out a hand to catch him, but only succeeded in going over the side himself and suddenly three men were in the water. Now that gap between the Dog had increased with the removal of the lines, but the two ships were still too close not to threaten the men below. The situation was not improved by the darkness nor the fact that Gabriel had fallen against the Watch Dog as he plummeted. "Man overboard!" came the calls from above. William called to Dorian as he fled his side. "Let us quit this place!"

How long have you been involved in pirate activities? Rape, murder and theft? Never. Well, I've taken an office pen perhaps, but never on the high seas. As for Pirate living history, the interest goes back many years but the activity starts more or less in 2003. How do you learn about activities, costuming and other things? I've learned about activities, costuming and other things primarily through friends and associates here on the Pub and at Pirates in Paradise. I have also learned my share of things by researching specific subjects of sailing, carpentry, ship draughts, canons, clothing and customs while working on the Watch Dog project and Mercury crew. What has changed in regards to getting the communication methods from when you first joined to now? Very little. There are so many ways of learning things about piracy from pure research to pure accident. Association with others of the hobby has proved advantageous in many ways and I often find that there are enough of us researching various aspects of piracy to teach one another. If you belong to other groups, listservs, etc., what has changed about them since you first started? They've become less important as reference sites as the Pub has grown, apart from a handful that have proven useful time and time again. I can usually find the information or link to the information I need right here if I pay attention and ask the proper questions.

Murin was passed a bolt of some bags or material for making such. It was heavy, being soaked through as it was, and it smelled of coarse cotton. After this came a crate , poorly abused. It was filled with smashed fruits that smelled primarily of apples. Then she was passing a loose bundle of clothing and then a mallet. The work went like this with every odd an end taken and passed along. "McDonough!" The call came from Alexander Sparshott, who stood balanced on the snow's broken rail. Murin was not accustomed to being addressed by her last name alone, but the man was in earnest. "Take up that line!" He was trying to free up the last of the grapples and the line was slack for only the moment. "Take it lass!"

With the unmistakable crash of the great gun, the time had come to depart. William ordered everyone out of the hold, for they were almost swimming now. They were surrounded by anything that would float, including dead Englishmen, but they made their way forward and up as best they could. William all but threatened some of the men to get them out, but out they went bearing the last of what would be saved below. William twice lost his coat but regained it every time. Owen And he were the last out, bearing with them a dazed Oliver Randall who had brained himself upon a timber. They arrived to hear Badger shouting 'Swing away!' with his usual impatience, and they witnessed a great gun of the snow cross the gap to the Watch Dog, but not before upsetting the rail with a force that sent splinters into the air. "The wind's up, sah!" Owen observed, but William was already moving to Lasseter's side leaving a trailing line of water. "What say you?" William shouted over the commotion. "Shall we abandon here?"

Preston had no where to go and little to do. He tried and failed to get Johan Stadtmeyer and Robert Jameson to engage in conversation with him, though they sometimes answered for the benefit of each other. They also apologized at times, respecting Preston for his office, despite being tied up. After a time, Preston satisfied himself with resting his eyes, though he did not sleep. On one of these occasions, Robert stepped back to Preston's blind side and began undressing himself from the waist down. Johan turned to him with the most unbridled expression of 'What in Hell?' inscribed across his face that Robert stopped, already exposed as he was. "I need ta piss." Jameson explained, just as emphatic as Johan was flabbergasted. Johan stared at him like he was a foreigner of such baffling customs that words failed. He gestured around and could not find any words but one. "HERE!?" Johan was not equipped with surpassing English, but even he could have found more words than that, were it not for his disgust and bewilderment combined. "There's them tha' piss below 'sides me." Jameson returned with equal surprise and Stadtmeyer cuffed him upside the head. Now whether Preston heard or cared about the matter, he remained quiet. Perhaps he was too amused not to hear this conversation to its rightful or wrongful conclusion. "Head with you." Johan ordered, but Robert wouldn't budge. Instead he made as if to continue, so Johan cuffed him hard enough across the back of the skull so as to make the man rub the smart of it. "I've orders..." "The head with you!" Johan ordered, and while Johan's five foot three was just overshadowed by Jameson's towering stature of five foot four, Johan was almost twice Robert's age and pointed in the direction of the bow. "Off with you. Heathen. Dog. Fool's bastard." Johan used as many good English words as he could find as Jameson wandered out, just as likely now to relieve himself anywhere but the head. This left Johan and Preston alone. It also left Johan to his thoughts, and they drifted to Captain Stoneburrows and back to Preston. 'I should kill this man and be done of him.' Johan thought, surveying the Ship's Master's wounds. 'He's wounded enough already.' It was as before. Johan was in a position to kill a senior officer of obvious liability, or at least possessed of some demons too dangerous to go untethered and perhaps get away with it. He wondered that Lasseter should not be grateful if he did this service, anonymous as it would be. No one had missed Stoneburrows. Johan could not now remember any mention of the man after his death, apart from some unfavorable anecdotes. It was different with Mister Whittingford, however, for the men seemed to like him and Preston had seemed affable enough before and after the engagement. It didn't matter. Johan was not so ready to kill as he had before, so he dismissed the notion and shook his head in disgust when Jameson returned too soon to have gone forward. "Dier..." Johan sneered. Robert mistook this for 'dear' and called, "Oh dear, yourself." They both laughed at each other scornfully, but for utterly different reasons.

"God in heaven!" Dorian looked up from the binnacle, where he and Jim Warren were salvaging every instrument stored there. They saw Harold Press in the attitude of moving the last of the prisoners across the gap to the Watch Dog. He was staring down between the snow and frigate. "Sahs!" They went up with haste only to discover the whereabouts of William's lost man. Christophe Lefevre, a Frenchman of Martinique that had served but a handful of days aboard ship, was discovered utterly mutilated between the hull of the Watch Dog and King's Fury. The poor man it seemed had fallen between the two boats during the engagement. Having not completed the leap between the snow and the frigate, or having been caught up in a line during the attempt, he had fallen between the two boats unobserved in the chaos of bloodshed. There he had remained, tangled up in some grapples of the 'Dog and rigging of the snow. It seemed as though he had been crushed and ground between the two boats this whole while. So savagely had the two ships pressed upon him, that had it not been known by all marines that he was missing, Harold would not have recognized him enough to mark the man. Jim allowed himself a long exhale of muttered curses before crying, "Grab him up." So horrified were those at hand at seeing a man so abused by bad luck and English Oak, that no man would follow the order at first. Christophe Lefevre had been reduced to a mean smear of a creature that stained both ships and his bones were ground and crushed throughout. Mercifully, as the snow settled in the water he was freed enough to fall, just as Harold would have grabbed him. one of the lines went slack and a smashed yard of the snow was carried overboard and down. It struck what little of Christophe's head and torso remained with a sound too profound as it carried him to dark depths. It was the first of many burials and not a few men, Spanish and Irish both, crossed themselves.

Durand arrived on deck, bearing up from below a satchel of bloodied cloth. He bore it to the Lucy's rail and dumped it over the side. Lasseter, unaccustomed to seeing the Frenchmen on his deck, chanced to see this arrival and the two men exchanged nothing more than a glance as Durand buried Thomas Ried's leg unceremoniously at sea. Then Durand went below again. He found Maeve so utterly spent, that she sat hunched upon a cask while at the work of sewing up Patrick Godfrey's arm. He was quite certain then that he had never known a woman more stunning in the moment, for there was a kind of ardent beauty in the way she persisted in fatigue, blood soaked and spattered. Even some ringlets of her hair bore the stain of her work, as she had brushed them back with bloodied hands more than once. "C'est art." he thought to himself, and wondered that artists should never catch such alien moments of mortality, when the curve and figure of woman was shown in all her persistence, surrounded by death. Then he noted a Jeffrey Elijah, bruised and most obviously marked by the bandage that covered the better part of his head. The lad had suffered the loss of his right eye, owing to a piece of shrapnel that had destroyed the orb. The sailor looked too sober for words and Durand passed him the dipper with a nod of empathy. "Never be coxswain or captain." Jeffrey said, voicing his concern at his diminished capacity. Durand simply tapped his all too valuable eye with a single finger and smiled, "A captain puts but one eye to the glass."

Such was the way of things at sea and in piracy. The tenuous engagement of canons too often claimed a worthy prize, and not a few lives. William himself was obliged to go below and witness the damage himself, becoming as drowned as the other sailors who were bringing up every bit of property to be had from the holds and berth. "That's it lads! Strip her to the bone!" William called, taking a cask in hand himself and passing it on up the line. He stripped his coat and hung it about his shoulders, wet as it was, and was surprised to find his hands covered in watery rivulets of blood. He had not thought to find so much carnage below, so much so that the water was pink in places. He chanced to look about as he passed another cask and was taken aback to see so many dead, and with no true explanation as to the cause. As he had not witnessed the engagement within, he dismissed the scene and continued to work. Up above, Lasseter was ordering every bit of the snow's canvas over the side to stave up the torn places of the King's Fury. Those within could just hear the sucking sound of the sea as it pressed hemp against the hull. It did little, but little was enough. The slightest slowing of the sea's progress was another cask of nails or a firkin of rum. It didn't hurt that as they worked they freed the snow of weight and William dared to hope that they would save her yet. A sodden Luc appeared then, wet from a fall. "Powder's all wet through, sah! Stores are flooded!" "Nevermind it! Save the swivels from above and all good arms off the deck!" "Such is done, sah!" Luc assured him. "But the canon are lost." "Cut them all away!" William shouted as he passed another cask. "A long line and a barrel or two to mark them." He knew that it was a fool's errand, for William could not be sure of the depth of the sea there, but to lose so much that could be sold ashore galled him. "Swing out the yards and haul away any that might be had!" "Aye, sah!" The ship heeled a little over to Starboard and William could hear the two neighboring ships grind upon the snow. William was thrown against Mister Gage, who was employed saving salt pork. "Sorry, sah!" "No rank in haste!" William shot back, and helped propel Lazarus in his progress. They were all working men for the moment. Cook and Captain alike.