William Brand

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.

William Red Wake! Are you the one sending me those "enlargement" emails? Only because you requested them, which is odd in and of itself, as I'm a graphic designer by trade. I guess you'll want illustrations of the process...?

He wants them enlarged and handed about.

William employed Rousseau's men to assist Ajayi to whatever destination ordered. It was only fitting that those who had done the harm should bear the weight. This was done begrudgingly of course, but no one could refuse the three men who demanded it. Rousseau was left mostly to himself . He protested everything, until William, tired of his complaints, took the man's cane and drove him before all. Out across the lawns they went, William striking the man only enough to drive him, deaf to all of Rousseau's protestations.

Don't fret, mate. He always talks like that.

Aye. Agreed. Personalities range too far afield for me to place labels. I avoid labels when I can. If I had to use any description I would use convincing or not convincing. I look at Cascabel and think, convincing. Braze, convincing. Edward O'Keefe, convincing. Jim Warren, convincing. Haunting Lily, convincing. Patrick Hand, oh so very convincing. Besides, you have pressed pirates, who took...or were rather taken...to the sea. You have pirates who were labeled thus by slander, libel or some other malediction. You have pirates that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Strangest of all are those pirates that carried a sword in one hand and a bible in the other. Several pirates in history refrained from drink and lechery for religious reasons, but were not above slaughtering entire crews without a second thought. And you have the bloodthirsty, devil-may-care, half way to the noose 12 hours out of every 24. Too many kinds for labels.

August 5, 1704 The business of this surgery done, Eric went over to a sleeping Mister Roberts and nudged him. "The weskit..!" Jack said, sitting up a little startled. He fumbled for the cup that was no longer in his hand. Eric snorted and patted Jack on the back. "Easy, Jack." "Sorry." he said, smiling at his own state. He rubbed the palm of one hand over an eye as he sat up. "Miss O'Treasaigh has fetched out th' lead." Eric explained. "Joshua's in good hands here. We'll wait t' take him back when th' Cap'n comes. Jack could see that Jean was shouldering his musket and preparing to depart, he followed suit, anxious to report the business of Wellings and what he knew of Ajayi to Mister Warren. He was equally anxious to eat and find his hammock. Starboard Watches on Duty

Would you all like to be listed together on the Roll Call?

August 5, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal Hernando López de Arriortúa and Felipe Gasset were standing on the holy ground of the Navarra when the cry came to them across the water. The sound carried easily over the distance, though a neighboring ship had begun celebrating somewhat raucously their recent good fortunes. The Bosun, Arriortúa, went to the rail with a glass as Gasset hailed the approaching boat. Maurice called out again, and so the merchant and the small boat conversed in this matter as the distance shrank between them asking and answering several simple questions. There were not many at the rail, Pew noted, but many more of them were armed than he had expected. "Some zeven...seventeen muskets, by my count, sah." Dries said quietly. "And heavy in the water..." Peter said, than quickly added. "Sah." None of this had escaped Preston's accounting and he made note of her rigging and great guns. "A merchant at war." he said abscently, as he was still trying to make out the condition of her topmost sails in the darkness above them and other subtle details of her make and readiness. Arriortúa remained on the upper decks aft, but Gasset had moved amidships along with some additional unarmed men to receive the men of the Lucy. Gasset looked affable enough. Indeed, he looked more than affable, even pleased to see them. He had a genuine smile and a good, average face. He raised a hand in greeting when they were close enough to make him out by the lanterns of the Navarra. "Welcome, friends." he said in a clear English, though it was no indication of his knowledge of the language one way or the other. The familiar face of Lieutenant Guerrero De la Cruz appeared then beside Gasset. Eight bells of the Second Dog Watch. First Watch begins. Starboard Watches on Duty

Please make your way to the kitchen, chicken. The cook wants to have a word.

August 5, 1704 - The cellar of Rousseau's slave livery What happened next surprised everyone. Before Ajayi could answer, Rousseau appeared on the steps. Reawakened to his position and power on the Earth, he entered the room with a kind of stern defiance to what he most certainly perceived as interlopers. He did this with the air of a man come down from Olympus, descending the stairs with an altered countenance that was altogether different from that indifferent man from before. The change was surprising. Something outside and unwitnessed by them had brought him back to himself. Perhaps his guests, standing about him in the dark, had reminded him with words or silence that he was a man of position. Whatever the cause, he was here. He was angry. Behind him came as many men as he could convince to follow by threat or coercion. They seemed more hesitant than Rousseau, but he had certainly chosen the most brutish and dangerous of his men. It didn't help that they were armed. Durand stood where he was. Gibraltar in a great coat. His man looked less certain, and the light moved a little in his uncertain hand. William and Dorian let Ajayi back down carefully. They both did this without saying anything to one another. They didn't even exchange a look. They simply set Ajayi back again and rose at either side of him. Dorian was too aware that William's musket was out of his immediate reach, but he was transformed now. Just one more Irishman with a gross of experiences at his back and enough of the scrapper left in him to make a show of himself. In fact, he looked downright happy to see Rousseau. It was something about the eyes. Something in his calm said that he could do cold blooded murder and raise a toast to the slaughter afterwards. William was calmer than he had been all night. It wasn't a mask of anything now. He was actually already beyond the room, his mind racing about the distance to the docks and the doctor waiting there. He couldn't have cared less for Rousseau and he was as genuinely disinterested in the Frenchman as Rousseau had been with them upon their arrival. "You will have a carriage brought to this place." William said simply, as if passing along instruction to one of his own. Rousseau's face went a little dark at this and they were seeing the real man for the first time. William wasn't sure if the man was more angry at him directly, or more irritated at being forced to demonstrate so much action and emotion before lesser men. What William was certain about was the fact that Rousseau would own a carriage. He probably had two or three of them. "You will have a carriage brought to this place." William repeated, with no more emphasis than before. Rousseau's men had spread out along either side of him, filling the side of the room and the stairs. Dorian's man was among them, watching Lasseter with the same measure he had shown before. Dorian was glad of it. Still, Durand never moved and Rousseau shot him a venomous look. William walked right up to Rousseau then. The plantation owner began a curse in French that would have been worthy of repeating for years to come if William hadn't cut him off. "You will have a carriage brought. Not that man." William said pointing to one of Rousseau's servants. "Nor that man." He said, pointing to another. "You, sir. You will have one brought." Rousseau dared the field and came toe to toe with Brand. "You are the stranger here. You do not know what foolishness you 'ave brought with you. I am a man of great stan..." "I am taking my man out of this place." William said and turned his back on Rousseau. William could not have angered him more in that moment. Rousseau was not accustomed to being cut off, but to have an inferior show his back in such a manner was a blow to everything he believed himself to be. He struck William across the back with his cane. Durand bristled so suddenly that several men went for blades. In truth, Durand barely moved, but being a big man any movement startled people. Dorian had been watching his chosen opponent this whole time. As the man saw fit to watch him, he brazenly stared back. With the sudden action of Rousseau and Durand's unchecked flinch the man had gone for his sword. It was not but half way out of its scabbard when Dorian drew his pistol and set it in the porch of the man's ear. "Don't." was all that he said. He had drawn the pistol, cocked it and placed it firmly against the man's head so suddenly, there was no need to say more. Still, the man held his sword, half drawn. William turned where he stood, his back still stinging from the blow. Rousseau had cracked the cane with the force of it. William's eyes threatened to well up at the pronounced smart that hurt outward an inward, skin to spine. There was a silence in the place that deafened everyone. William regained his height and his composure, but the calm that came back was all anger in check now. Ajayi was almost forgotten in the blinding sting that still wouldn't fade. Dorian's man still held blade. "Put up your sword, sirrr." Dorian said in the clearest and coldest English William had ever heard him use, though his 'sir' trailed, threatening. "Put up your sword or I'll send you t' Hell in portions." Portions came out like a growl and a hiss rolled together. The man let gravity replace his blade and even raised his hands a little. Rousseau stood defiant. It took William a moment to straighten completely. "Some one hundred and fifty men of my company wait offshore." William said, standing close enough to Rousseau now that even Rousseau's men did not know what to do. "Thank them. Thank them in your prayers ere you sleep, Monsieur. Were their lives not within my care, I would risk all to destroy you." "Monsiuer..." Rousseau tried, and it was not fear in his voice, but uncertainty. His men had not sprung to his immediate aid and this confused him. "I would peel you, Monsieur. I would...with a glee I have not known before...willingly perform all of those treacheries attributed to me, though it take me a fortnight." There was something in the way that William spoke then at the end. Something about the calm that was fading away at the corners of his mouth. Something about the tremulous way his hands began to shake. The anger that showed then, underneath the peeling paint of his calm, gave Rousseau his first true pause. It was not that William became less inferior. It was rather the opposite. William was becoming more inferior still. Almost savage. Rousseau had no way to gage this kind of anger. No one had ever been this close to him and this angry at the same time. "You...will go and fetch the carriage!" William said, and almost couldn't, anger and volume overtaking him. Rousseau, stubborn past the point of reason, turned to Durand then, trying to enlist him by insulting him. "Comment défi vous, monsieur. Comment pouvez-vous se tenir pour ceci?" Durand looked angry now. For the first time, he looked angry. "I am with them. Not with you." He said 'you' with such derision that Rousseau looked slapped again. Then Dorian's man moved a little to much for Dorian's liking. With his free hand Dorian drew his knife and in one swift stroke, cut the man deeply across his hip, freeing the man from his sword and pistol as he did so. They clattered to the floor, and still, Dorian pressed the pistol firmly. The man could do nothing but grit his teeth and bleed. This movement triggered two other men to action, though Durand disarmed the first so easily with a swipe of one long arm, that the man gaped to see his sword sent sailing. The other man was dispatched by Durand's man, who in a manner more lucky than graceful, smashed the lantern across the face of the second. The man cried out to be cut and burned all at once, and he discharged his musket in surprise. It carried off some off some of Durand's coat, though Durand seemed unshaken by this. Then Rousseau and his men were all being herded out. Herded like the men they bought and sold. It was a loud procession, for everyone had been deafened a little by the musket and their blood was up.

Ajayi lay within. Just that. Nothing more. There were no furnishings. There were no chains. It was plain but for the sparest amount of straw and Ajayi. For a brief moment, William thought the man was dead. This momentary thought passed quickly though as Ajayi shifted, blinded by the feeble light as the others had been. He raised one arm to shield his face, but not before William caught sight of a nose, mouth and eyes badly beaten. 'What had Durand said?' William wondered then. 'Had he said that Ajayi was 'much abused'?' These words failed to explain what had been done to the man. William passed his musket to Dorian absently. Dorian took it without question. William walked down the steps which continued past the door, so that they were now almost six feet lower into the Earth than the rest of the building. The symbolism was not lost on William. When he reached Ajayi's side he stood over him for a moment, uncertain what to do. Ajayi looked up and he was so piteous in appearance that a sound caught in William's throat. "Capppuhn." Ajay said through a mouth that had once been perfect. This was a blow on William's ears, and he couldn't remember if the twice former slave and castaway had ever addressed him such. A second, subtle and strangled sound caught in William's throat as he bent down. "My good man." Was all that he managed. He didn't know what to do for Ajayi, for everywhere the man was broken or bruised and there was no place to touch that was not torn or damaged in some fashion. "Le Christ outre de la croix..." Durand's man whispered, and even accustomed to slavery as he was, he looked unsteady. Ajayi's left eye was swollen completely closed and as ripe as eggplant. His face was swollen too much to identify the man by sight alone, and had William not known him by his weary voice, he would have not thought this damaged creature to be his man. Fingers were bent in ways that made his empty stomach coil in anger and nausea. Ajayi's perfect teeth, that were wont to smile often, especially in favor of Mister Whittingford, were wrecked. No other word could describe that once untouched, ivory smile. Several teeth were gone and some would have to go in time. His lips were parted in places and he had never seen so much blood on a man still alive. Everything about Ajayi that had been beautiful had been sold along with his freedom. "My god, Dorian." William said, in a rasp. "They made 'im face th' lash..." Dorian said in a wonder so bare that it couldn't hide his disbelief, for this was not cliche. Ajayi had faced the lash. They had whipped him across his face and chest. Not his back. Durand's man crossed himself.

William, though shorter than either Dorian or Durand, proved hard to keep up with. He sometimes strode and sometimes jogged across the lawns. Then the grass and gardening gave way to dirt and uneven, well trodden soil. It was slick, unyielding stuff. It was so densely packed from the traffic of human beasts of burden, that the earlier rain had not touched it but to pool on top in shallow, glossy and reflective mirrors. William called out to the imposing, unlit windows of the slave quarters. These were not fancy buildings, but they were embellished with enough of a facade to make them pretty by day and ominous by night, features for passers by and Rousseau's own vanity, not for their occupants. The rest of the structures were solid and sturdy, unmarked by any elegance. "Poor houses an' prisons." Dorian said as he caught up to William. One of Durand's men arrived with him, and this afforded them a lantern. They moved forward at once, almost attacking each building, under the protests of Rousseau's arriving men. Each house yielded nothing but the worst onslaught of smells and poverty. Ajayi was not found among the first three buildings, though not for lack of looking. William and his party plowed into every house and outbuilding. Thankfully, this relieved them of their followers for a time, for Rousseau would not go in at any of door, and his men, unprepared to face such threatening fervor, were obliged to wait in the fresh and open air. Still they searched, and every time William came out again into the night, Rousseau's band of shocked guests would jump a little in surprise, though William ignored them in his progress. It did not help that Dorian's demeanor was all hostility and Durand was an imposing man in carriage alone. "You will cease, Monsieur." Rousseau protested. "You will take your men and go from here!" "We will at that!" Dorian spat, and he stopped to say it, which gave Rousseau pause. The man visibly flinched. Finally they reached the last of the houses, if such a name could be granted the structure before them. It sat alone in the darkest part of the house grounds. It was almost buried in a stand of trees. It was not quite a barn, but more a livery for humans. In fact, it was both a stable and a slave house. The architect had married both together poorly, so that the overall effect at night was disturbing. It had so many dark, shadowy archways and it seemed to dead end everywhere, a thing that William might have had reason to dread, though he was too angry to care. It loomed before them and it was fixed with so many heavy doors that William was reminded of Dorian's words from minutes before. "Prison..." William said softly, and he took the lantern from Durand's man. He was sure that of all places on the plantation, Ajayi would be here. Something about the place assured him of this fact. Only this last, most horrible place could hold Ajayi. They went in at the only open door and their solitary light was swallowed up by it.

Today's special is... My, but we've killed a fair number of chickens this week.

I saw the wings. She still looks like a zombie.

I would lose the zombie in the first picture, but otherwise they look great.

August 5, 1704 - The Plantation of Monsieur Rousseau Between three and eight bells of the Second Dog Watch They found themselves enveloped in a silence that hung heavy. So much so that the click of dog's claws on stone seemed overly loud. The music had faded and faltered within, replaced now with indignant French exclamations and the approach of footfall. Rousseau appeared in the entryway of his home flanked by so many wigs and worrisome looking guests that it was like the advance of a tailor dressed army of foppery. William had not seen so much lace since coming to Martinique and there could be no mistaking a sudden change in perfume, for they were assaulted by lilac and rose water. Every other hand carried a handkerchief and even Rousseau himself was still dabbing at the corner of his mouth in an absent minded way. "Quelles affaires sont ceci?" Rousseau said, in a tone that only just pantomimed genuine interest. Durand explained, for the third time since discovering Ajayi's whereabouts, that they were here for the return of the Watch Dog's man. Rousseau seemed genuinely surprised by this, and if Durand was irritated, he didn't show it. He simply explained the reason for their arrival as if just arriving himself. Still, Rousseau seemed not to understand. "You have purchased one of mine into slavery." William said flatly, interrupting Durand at the end. Rousseau, capable of excellent English himself, turned to a man at his left and waited to hear this said again in French. Rousseau answered to the translator and not to William. "I have purchased slaves before, Monsieur." Rousseau's man explained, and he even managed to mimic his employer's removed, unengaged tone. "Nevertheless, I will have my man back again." William returned. His tone was calm but absolute. "Where is he?" Rousseau's brow furrowed, and he seemed not to understand the question, or at least, it seemed a thing too unimportant, so he chose not to acknowledge it's weight. William repeated the question with more calm, though this had the effect of being less calm. "How can a slave, purchased by me, belong to you?" Rousseau said again through his man. It was infuriating stuff. William straitened a little, a tick of his impatience showing. "Come again tomorrow." Rousseau added, turning away from them with all the indifference of a god removed from mortals. "Where is he?" William exclaimed and this time he was loud enough to make one or two ladies, and not a few of the more genteel men jump a little. Durand may have smiled a little then. A dog barked. Rousseau turned back again, and for the first time one could see the underpinnings of his masks. There was a little irritation in his eyes. It was a kind of lazy impatience born of wealth, for Rousseau felt himself so removed from anyone beneath him, that he did not like being prodded to some actual regard for his inferiors. He found it unpleasant and he felt that it dirtied him to show so much interest openly. He was starting to shed his genuine boredom for a subtle, but equally lazy anger. "The slave is not here." he said, slightly exasperated. He gestured in wide circles with his hands to the plantation as a whole, and William was worried for a moment that Ajayi was already gone, bound for plantations or islands elsewhere. Rousseau, thinking himself misunderstood, added. "Why would he be here?" William understood then that Rousseau did not see the plantation as a whole, but rather he saw the house as an island in the midst of the plantation. Of course to him the slaves were not 'here', they were 'elsewhere'. They could never be here in the same place as Rousseau, for it would imply some equal plane of existence. They occupied a completely different continent just beyond his hedgerows and gardening. Rousseau, still thinking himself misunderstood, explained and gestured in the general direction of the property North of the house. "The slave is there." He sounded flummoxed now, as an indifferent adult chiding someone else's children. As before, William took off at a pronounced stride, leaving everyone who didn't immediately follow. As no one hedged him in on this side, he gained the most obvious lane North of the house unchecked. He ignored Rousseau's awakened alarm and his first real indignation. "You will come back, Moniseur!" he cried, using his most excellent English for the first time, and so surprised was his translator, that the man repeated Rousseau's demand in French. It might have been funny, but no one was laughing. Larboard Watches on Duty

I am the proprietor here, and while under my roof you shall be waited on hand and foot until a chirugeon says differently. Now eat your soup and be pampered.

Should you be hugging anyone...? A lass in your condition. Get the lady a chair! And a serving boy or two! And something to drink! And...while you're up, repaint the Kate! She's showing her age in places!