William Brand

Excellent. Which style did you perform? Tribal?

William stepped outside in time and was grateful for the breeze. He stood with the others, milling about with no particular effort of purpose or conversation. Everyone was tired, even the men of Durand who were waiting with Rousseau's carriage nodded where they stood or sat. Durand himself was nowhere to be seen at first, but he arrived in short order, bearing fare more substantial than the apples. The grateful assembly were thankful for the food which disappeared into every receiving hand. "How shall I repay your kindness, Monsieur?" William asked him at one point during the quiet which followed the eating. Durand was patting his vest and coat pockets for something and he shrugged. Then he found his pipe. "Perhaps some tobacco?" Durand returned. William smiled at this, but as he smoked so seldom, he never carried any of his own. Dorian passed what he had with him and the two men were soon in a lazy cloud of smoke and conversation. Dorian and Durand seemed strangely at ease, almost affable, and given Durand's threatening presence on the Lucy at their first meeting, this was surprising. Perhaps the common enemy they both shared in Rousseau had placed them on an even keel one with another. While they talked, William engaged Miss O'Treasaigh with a few direct questions, wishing to know how soon they might return to their waiting ships. She did not answer at first and blinked once, coming back from some thought or thoughts. She spoke plainly, measuring the Captain's pressing business against her patients. She assured him that aboard ship or on land, Ajayi and Joshua would heal, Of this she was certain. William was glad of the news and went to wake any who had dosed. It was time to quit the island.

This line alone is worthy of mention... "How I became of the works I was assigned me laden of burden from me master was that of a blacksmith." Will she bear a figurehead?

I look forward to the pictures of her in the water. It's always good to see another boat in the business, but they need to hire an editor and press agent to rewrite the materials on their webpage.

It is one of my personal favorites, but I always recommend seeing with a large group of people. Somehow it is far more fun with a big group. We watch it every few years for Talk Like a Pirate Day.

The dinner aboard the Navarra ended all at once, going from the first act through the third with little or no narrative. The underlying moodiness of the Lieutenant was not explained and Avendano remained cordial but quietly removed until the last. He went with them to the weather decks, wishing them well, but in few words. He sent Preston with a bottle of something amber colored and old, the label long since faded. The Lieutenant was brief as he had been all night, but Gasset was as pleasant again as he had been upon their arrival. "Peculiar supper." Charlie said, when they were far enough from the Spanish merchantman for his voice not to carry. The others chorused this in their own way, speaking of the company and not the fare. Preston examined the label by their solitary lantern. It was either a very lightly colored sack or a very dark white wine, and he noted the only legible word 'Rioja'. He didn't know why then, but the words of an associate of his father came to him as he turned the bottle over and over in his hands. The phrase had not crossed his mind in the many years since he had heard it last, but he recalled it quite clearly. "Only those with a tolerance for intrigues may escape the poison secreted within them".

That's a great box and I think the rope handles are just fine if you want to focus your free time on something else. Stop finding cool stuff for cheap. You're killing me.

You can see this form of 'tied up bag or cloth' represented in early art, generally being carried on the end of a good stick. I've seen the stick come up in several discussion, but people seldom add it to their kit. I inherited some very nice apple wood branches from my Dad's fruit trees this year and I plan to do a stick and bag combination for PIP.

Aye, Jon. You and Paula would be most welcome. Are you working on any projects for this year's events? It seems like everyone is making something ambitious this year.

Let's have a little mizithra to start out the day right.

Thanks for yet another good place to look for goods, Hawkyns. http://www.thepracticalgoose.com/ http://sykesutler.home.att.net/

That's a beauty. What year was it built? Any update on this carriage?

August 5, 1704 - Aboard the Navarra Preston explained the comings and going of Brand as he understood them, and not knowing Avendano, let alone all of the mysteries of the past 12 hours, he took the middle ground. He was neither too brief nor too long winded and Avendano seemed satisfied on every detail. Actually, he was almost too easily placated, returning at once to the matter of food and drink without another word. Preston had expected to be questioned, perhaps ordered about and returned to the Lucy in short order. Instead, they found themselves the idle guests of a luxurious table with no need to make explanations for themselves. Even more than this, Avendano was a removed host, who seemed content to watch them eat without conversation. After a time Charlie gave Preston a sort of facial shrug from where he sat. Maurice, left with nothing to translate, accepted the wine and fare continuously set before him. Peter looked skeptical and approached every bite with the caution of one testing poisoned food for a pontificate, but Joseph was glad of the food and ate freely. It was the Lieutenant that marred the seemingly perfect, casual scene. He drank nothing. He ate little. He engaged in conversation polite enough, but like Avendano, he did not openly engage them in conversation. It was a strange supper among strangers, but at least the cook was worth his shares.

Luigi was a good listener, having enjoyed many a good book in this fashion. He could read in Italian, but all other books were blank to him, and books from home were scarce since going abroad. He made a few comments from time to time, and sometimes interrupted with observations, but mostly he was quiet. As Treasure read he tried drinking with his diminished hand, but found it strange. "How shall I count to ten properly?" he quipped, flexing his remaining fingers. "Apologies. My thoughts wandered. Best start that last page over."

"Beg a better tale. Kildare won't..." Luigi began but realized he was talking in English and didn't have to, so he continued in Italian. He talked freely about books and about those he had know. Briar came in at the door again after a time bearing tea. She offered some to each of them. Since sugar had come aboard, neither refused and as Briar poured, Luigi begged the boon of a book. Briar promised to search among her few tomes and perhaps ask Mister Warren for one from the Ward Room. She went in search of several volumes. "See...? She can't tie you to a chair with rope, but a book..."

He smiled to watch her pacing. "Y'll holystone the place, lass." He laid back and examined the place where one finger had been. "I'll be busy finding proper gloves." Briar came in at the sound of conversation asked if they would want another candle. They both shook their heads. Briar checked Luigi's bandages once and gave Treasure a mildly scolding look before carrying a few bowls to the galley. Treasure was still measuring the room in footsteps. Luigi shook his head. He looked a little blurry about the edges and too many hours abed with medicinal drink and not a little rum, where making him feel half drowned. "Miss Tribbiani..." She looked at him, but he found that he didn't know where he was going with the conversation. He smiled. "When she comes again, ask her for that candle...and perhaps eh book."

I'll do you one better. Send it to me and I'll clean it and send you a nice photo for the wall.

The first few minutes passed in relative silence, but for a few exchanges between William, Dorian and Durand about the how, when and where of getting to the docks. Then William focused on Ajayi and while Dorian held a lantern he went to work on the fingers. Ajayi did not need an explanation. William took his hand and they looked at one another for a sober second before William yanked. Ajayi doubled over and buried his head against William chest a moment. Then he let his head fall back with a look of diminishing pain and some relief. Then, he looked back at William. They performed this action several times, righting fingers that were bent and twisted out of place. It was horrible stuff, but the added relief that returned to Ajayi's face with each action was enough. Then Ajayi was speaking in his own tongue, almost easily. William was glad of it, for the language took him away from the place and the moment. They passed a cart man bound for home as they went. He was bearing apples unsold at market. Durand brought the procession to a halt to buy up the remainder. Everyone was glad of it, and there were several appreciative sounds and nods. Everyone was hungry. William passed the first apple offered him to Ajayi, and regretted it at once, remembering the man's teeth. Ajayi was not ungrateful. He simply gestured to William knife and pared off small pieces. Then they were riding again, eating as they went. William ate without care of his beard, but soon realized he had lost or misplaced his handkerchief. He looked down at his hands and sleeves, finding them bloodied, soiled and dusty. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve almost in time with Dorian, and they shared a chuckle at their appearance. "Should we come upon anyone else before the Watch Dog, let us not call each other captain." "Agreed." Dorian laughed and it was a good sound after so much darkness and shadows. "You there..." he called to Durand's man. "A good man with a lan'ern." The man did not understand, so Durand translated. The man smiled and shrugged and returned a line he seemed to draw from memory. William couldn't place it, but Dorian translated. "Let your light so shine before men..." he began, and William and Dorian finished the scripture together, though badly. "We shall agree not to be priests as well." "Aye." The banter flowed. The apples disappeared. Ajayi looked almost happy to be alive, free and in their company. Almost, but sober as well.

August 5, 1704 - Aboard the Navarra Not everyone who greeted them was as welcoming as Gasset, but none were standoffish or threatening. The Lieutenant greeted them as well as he had in times past, but he seemed bothered by something outside their scope. Perhaps it was something about his conversation as he showed them aft, but he seemed removed and would answer in turn only after slight pauses. They were shown in at the room where officers of the Watch Dog had dined before and they were invited to dine there as well, as Capitán Avendano and Doctor Tarin were already eating. "Please." was all that the Captain said, gesturing to the food on the table before him. starboard Watches on Duty

I'm generally a pretty chivalrous guy, but I'm glad I wasn't drinking anything when I read this, because I laughed about the ditch. But more on topic. I haven't found that period stuff costs a lot more, because, as Quartermaster James has already pointed out, it lasts forever. Also, people who love the art of historical representation will sometimes give you stuff just to see your kit improved. We trade, barter, share and give stuff away.

YAAAAAAR! One post from 8000 and you LEAVE?! To bake a cake for the special occasion.

Flattery will get you...well...it will get you free food.

I know who it is. No. It isn't me.

August 5, 1704 - The Plantation of Monsieur Rousseau By the time they were all together again at the lane, Ajayi was loaded into the carriage and Dorian and Babineaux were occupying the seat, Babineaux at the reigns. Durand and his other men were on their horses. William remained on the grass. He seemed to pause for reasons that were not readily apparent. He had already ignored everything said from Rousseau upon leaving the slave livery, but to fix him occasionally with an impatient look at his blithering. Then he turned to face Rousseau, his men and the crowd of confused and astonished onlookers. Something Rousseau had said, something amidst all his protests, finally registered with William. Rousseau had complained that a man of his had purchased and seen to the slave. It was this 'seen to' which awoke something in William. "Which animal was it that lashed this man?" William said gesturing to Ajayi. "It was I." One of Rousseau's men stepped forward from the front of the mass of guests defiantly. The man was not large, as William had imagined he would be. He was a surprisingly small man of no outward strength, yet he was not ugly, but fair and intelligent in appearance. He was well dressed and bore himself with the confidence that implied upbringing or wealth. He walked forward and placed himself before William, one ankle properly turned. "Who are you?" William asked, tired of such people. "Philippe Galouzeau de Villepin." The man said proudly and effected a little bow that demonstrated more his indifference to William, then his respect. "For what you have done, you have earned my enmity." William said evenly, not knowing or caring who the man was, let alone his station. "I will kill you one day." "Why not now, Monsieur?" Galouzeau asked flippantly. William obliged him and rushed upon Galouzeau. The man drew just quickly enough to block the first blow. William's sword rang hard upon the man's blade and he turned it out of hand. William cut the man through the shoulder and then saved himself injury by retreating a little. Galouzeau was quick enough, younger and the better swordsman. He cut William across his left arm and opened his coat a little, but William began closing on the man too fast. William pressed dangerously close, leaving himself open more than once, but it was this recklessness that put Galouzeau off his game. It bewildered Galouzeau and he managed only one good thrust on William. It tangled in the basket of William's sword and William twisted hard upon it. Of course William paid for this with a gash upon his hand, as he had in battle with the Maastricht, but he broke Galouzeau's sword off seven inches above the hilt. Then William was beating him. It was no longer a duel at all, but a kind of bludgeoning. William struck Galouzeau with his sword basket so hard, that he dislocated his jaw and several of his teeth disintegrated. Three more blows cut Galouzeau's cheek, forehead and one eye. The man managed to keep his feet, though he wavered on one bending leg. William helped it. One slash above the knee and Galouzeau went over hard. One man went for his pistol, but Dorian fired the one he had taken into the air, and no one else was moved to come to the man's rescue. The report was loud in the dark and it awoke William to himself. All was silence then. William was breathing heavy, but after a moment or two he managed to say again, "I will kill you one day." he said in a conversational way. "When I am ready...I will kill you Galouzeau." Then William walked, stumbling once to the carriage. Dorian offered him a hand and William let himself be helped into the seat there. Then he looked directly at Rousseau. "I have people here at Martinique that will bring me word of you. You will treat your slaves better, sah." Rousseau was incensed. His man damaged. His property taken. Shamed before all his associates. He pulled himself up to his full height. "You understand nothing of slavery!" Rousseau began, and William almost smiled, for he knew first hand too much on the subject, but he said nothing. "You will pay for this, Monsieur. You and yours will pay." William said nothing to this either, recognizing in Rousseau the ravings of the defeated. Here was a den Oven incapable of a dignified retreat. William simply shook his head and Dorian made some unflattering comparisons to sheep in Gaelic, so Rousseau turned his wasted venom on Durand. "And you. Bastard dog of a puppet governor." Durand turned his horse about immediately and there was a light in his eye. "The King gave me his cup!" He growled in a French that was not laced with anything delicate. He was the bear now, and even his horse seemed unsettled by the change. L'Ours had awakened at the last, prodded by too much of Rousseau. Durand rode right up to the man and stopped only just short of trampling him. Rousseau was obliged to step back a pace, and as deluded as he was in his orb, Rousseau understood then that he had played the fool and threatened the sea. Durand, capable of so much calm, was now aimed at him in full. Durand repeated himself, "The King gave me his cup and bade me drink from it. Who are you to me...ssssah?" Rousseau could not come back at Durand with anything of worth. Durand dropped his voice to a conspirator's volume and leaned low in the saddle. "Would you have the King know, and de Gabaret...how you bought a freeman to aid the enemies of France?" Rousseau blanched. "Enemies...?" "...of France!" Durand finished, impatient to be repeating himself anymore to this small man. "Traitors and murderers all. Sent with coin bearing the visage of the King to return again against us. To murder men and boys of France." Rousseau blinked, mouth agape. "Do not come at me again with threats too small. Don your heavy brocades and your necklaces of office, Monsieur. See how they serve only to crack your neck after a short fall. A Very...short...fall." Rousseau was finished. It was over. He was toppled from his place and if he ever rose again, it would be by faltering steps or some repentant alteration that was probably beyond him. He took two steps back and removed his wig. He looked older then and unhealthy in the scant lighting. A man alone. They took to the road without another word or even a look back, but for Durand's men who took up the rear guard.

Smuggles...? You're too kind. He has videos.