William Brand

August 5, 1704 - On the inland road William reigned his horse in a bit, so that Babineaux was forced to slow his own until they were almost abreast of one another. William pressed him with several questions until he was satisfied to the distance and location of the plantation in relation to St Pierre, which lay ahead of them to the South and West. Monsieur Babineaux explained that they would pass along the Easternmost outskirts of St. Pierre before turning Southeast along one of many roads leading to the Cul du Sac Royal. On this road they would come to the plantation of Monsieur Rousseau. Dorian took this opportunity to ask about the owner of the plantation and Babineaux gave a shrug, stating that rumors aside, he had no experience with the man. When he added nothing else, Dorian asked, "Et… les rumeurs?" Babineaux shrugged again. "He is...riche. Puissaaant...Powerful. Il est… ce que vous pourriez attendre." It was not an explanation at all. "We'll burden the horses as far as we might. If we cannot find fresh mounts before the edge of St. Pierre, we shall rest these there. Agreed?" William did not ask Babineaux.

The Golden Age of Pyracy is a bit early to portray a naturalist, but you still could explain away a few of the items as just oddities collected by a curious sailor. They could also be reminders af a sailor's earlier times in the colonies among native nations. Apart from that, you might just trade most of them away for things more suitable to the hobby. I would trade draughts of the Watch Dog for a turtle skull.

Ahh...the Hammerhead. The name of my first ship. If I could have but one ship I'm not certain what I would call her, though a working replica of the Watch Dog would be too nice to pass up.

August 5, 1704 - The inland road from St. Pierre They had no reason to suspect trouble upon the road, but William and Dorian checked their pistols and muskets all the same. Then they put their heads out at the carriage windows to see three riders closing. Jean was already calling across the last few hundred yards, and while they caught but half of the words he shouted, they knew his voice at once. "What now?" William wondered aloud as the carriage slowed. Dorian swung the door wide and William stepped down before they had come to a complete stop. "Gentlemen." "Sah, this messenger..." Jack began, but Monsieur Babineaux cut him off as he was dismounting. "Capitaine Brand?" "Oui." William returned, his tone neutral. "Un message de mon maître, Monsieur Durand!" Babineaux exclaimed, thrusting the letter at William. William took the note, which was wrapped in heavy paper, but not sealed. He unfolded it and turned himself toward better light. As he read, Jean and Jack dropped from their saddles, though Jack did so with a greater effort and a groan escaped him as some three dozen parts of himself complained. William's face jerked up from the letter. He looked right at Dorian. "Durand believes that Ajayi is at the plantation of a Monsieur Rousseau. This man is sent to bear us hence." "A plantation." Dorian's face soured, for there was meaning in this. He cursed den Oven, and not for the first time that day. William made a quick assessment of the Lieutenant and Bosun's Mate. He noted that Jack looked worse for wear and that the condition of the horses was not much better, a thing which could not be helped. "Mister Roberts, you and Jean shall take the carriage and bear Wellings to Miss O'Treasaigh. Use what care you deem fit, for he is strong enough I think to make the journey with care. "Aye, sah." They said together, and Jack smiled to hear of Wellings. Jean passed the reigns of his horse to William. "Dorian." William said as he pulled himself into the saddle, accomplishing this without much grace. Dorian shouldered his musket and followed suit. "Gentlemen." William said again, leaving the men of the 'Dog as he had greeted them. Then he gave a nod to Monsieur Babineaux to lead the way. They went with speed and armed against the uncertain night.

Perhaps a pineapple sorbet...?

Aye.

We don't serve dog... ...for several reasons.

Thank you. Today's special is steak with blue cheese and crispy onion strings with cooked vegetables and a side of garlic bread.

And you have yet to attend a single Baconfest... It's criminal.

Yer too cool. You need a whole birthday week.

Thank you, all. Everything is on track for tomorrow. We'll be meeting early in the day and I hope that all will go well.

August 5, 1704 - The inland road from St. Pierre William smiled, bemused by his own fatigue and made a point of lolling his head to one side dramatically, before taking the cup. He sipped only a little of the stuff and made a face. "I'm ravenous." Dorian nodded and made mention of several Irish dishes he would gladly sample by the plateful. William made a face at this, eyes closed. Then the two of them launched upon a lengthy journey of comparisons between the fares at every roadside tavern and country pub they could remember. They tortured themselves in this fashion, sometimes smiling, sometimes groaning for want of shepherd pies, spoonbreads, puddings and meringues. "We shall eat the horses when they drop." William announced, after a pause came in the discussion. "Aye." Dorian agreed. "Quiche cheval..." William chuckled. "Or perhaps the coachman." "Too course." Dorian said, shaking his head. The sound of horses on the road ahead woke them from their revelries.

August 5, 1704 - The inland road from St. Pierre Second bell of the First Dog Watch had come and gone, but whether or not any church bells rang the half or quarter hours, such a sound was lost far behind them and under the hoof beats of their horses. They flew along the road at speed, sending up mud and spray as they did, til the man at the back would have been wet through, if not for his coat. For Jack, the ride was hard. Even if he had not recently quit the prison, the ride would have been uncomfortable, for he had not ridden in a very long time. His joints, muscles and all his framework, still waking from the dead life of prison and tested through work aboard the 'Dog, now reminded him that he was a long way yet from returning to that strong and able man he had been before his capture. Only time would make him so, and this journey was a sore reminder. Jack chanced to turn his head Westward as he stood a little in the saddle. They had reached a point in the road where he could not make out the sea for the encroaching jungle. The sky was of little use in this regard, for the road seemed dark in the shadows, but he was certain that night would overwhelm them soon. All the business of Ajayi would be settled in darkness it seemed. - - - Not far ahead of them and Southward bound came the carriage bearing the weary and the wounded. Dorian had managed a song or two, but these were born of boredom more than spirit. He sand them more to himself and sometimes with his face part way out the window as he watched the passing landscape. William fell asleep twice, but for no more than three minutes together. He was not trying to rest anymore than he was trying not to, but he allowed it as it came in brief, truncated moments. The rest of the party were asleep in more absolutely or wide awake. - - - As the hour waned, the two parties drew closer still.

Today's special is a thin slice of Spam fried up and served on toast. My Grandma would make it for me whenever I saw her, and when I was young, I thought it was the best thing in all the world. A moment of silence for my Grandma. At only 5 feet and maybe an inch or two, she was one of the tallest, most noble women I ever knew.

I don't often feel the need to write about personal things to a known or unknown public, even the Pub, but if anything that follows might remind us to cherish what we have and be better to everyone about us, then it will have been worth the effort. About ten years ago my sister went to see my Grandma with her husband and children. They were all excited to see her, for they hadn't been to her home in years, due in large part to geography. They walked up to the door with all of the happy expectation one generally feels when seeing a beloved relative they've missed. My sister was extra anxious and happy for the moment, because my dear Grandma would finally get to see great grandchildren that she had never met and others she had not seen for almost a decade. Then my uncle Gary answered the door. I have often heard them describe what followed as one of the most frightening experiences of their entire lives. My uncle Gary came screaming and cussing out of the house. He threatened them with all sorts of violence. He violated their ears with every insult and accusation imaginable. So horrible was he that my nieces and nephews, still quite young at the time, clung to my sister and brother-in-law in abject terror. Even my brother-in-law, a man who towers over everyone, was alarmed by the assault. They still talk about it to this day in a hushed and unbelieving tone. This experience, and similar ones had by a few other cousins and siblings frightened everyone so much, that no one would go to see my Grandma for fear of Gary. Still, despite his abuse to anyone who dared the porch, he proved a fairly good caretaker to my Grandma, though she was made to believe the most outrageous lies about everyone else who cared for her over the years. He has sewed a thread of discord that has all but destroyed most of my Dad's family. I hate to admit that I could ever hate someone I had once called Uncle with affection, but I was not alone in my hope that he would die before my Grandma. We would often speak of his passing, knowing that if my Grandma passed first, there might be hell to pay in the end. You see, my Dad is the arbitrator of my Grandma's will and things being how they are between my Dad and his siblings, not to mention Gary, we've feared the possibilities of this day for years. Today, my Dad and Mom went to see my Grandma. Gary 'opened the house' to everyone because she has been very ill and it was believed that she would pass away very soon. My parents drove three hours to see her, but she died while my Dad was parking the car outside her home. He didn't get to say goodbye. He didn't get to say anything. My Mom said he just stood in the living room next to the bed they brought in to help her recover from past sicknesses. He just stood there and wouldn't talk to anyone. A man of profound wisdom and words, too torn up to speak. To add to this, his callous siblings informed him that his aunt died in July and no one had bothered to tell him. They told everyone but him and my Aunt Sherri. What kind of people wait to tell you news of that nature while you're standing in the horrible silence of a loved one lost? I have trouble imagining that kind of casual and careless disregard. It pains me to think of it aimed at my Dad. I didn't cry when I heard that my Grandma died. When my sister called and gave me the news, I didn't cry, but I did when I imagined my loving father standing in his mother's house like a stranger. I cried to think of his unimaginable siblings giving him the news of his aunt's passing some six months after the fact as he stood over the body of his mother just minutes dead. I cried to think of him parking the car as she died. Then I cried because my Grandma never got to see my two children. Not once. I'm feeling a lot of things. Grief, frustration, worry, pity and not a little shame. Still, despite what has come before and what may yet come after this, I'm clinging to the small hope that everyone will take stock of their lives and come out the other side better people. I want my Dad's siblings to be fair and kind to him again. He's never once done any of them harm. He's watched out for them, kept in contact with them and has done all that a person might do to be worthy of another's respect, if not affection. If you're a praying person, pray for my Dad. His mother died today while he was parking the car. Pray for Gary too. He's been very sick of late and they don't know what it is. Gary loathes the whole world with a senseless anger and no one should die feeling that way. Blind hatred is one of the worst poisons we brew for ourselves and others.

Aye, though I'm too removed to be one of the transporting members. Please take pictures of the whole ride from start to end with pictures of the meeting parties in between.

It looks sharp. How do you plan to test it? Are going camping with some large pirates in bad weather?

They're serving pheasant in Washington today, so we'll make that the special of the day...

It looks like apple juice, but if you say it's a pint, it's a pint.

Is anyone attending Dundracon in San Ramon in February?

A very happy birthday to my Steward, Miss Tudor Smith, whom you all know as Mercenary Wench. A finer lady, sailor and soldier I couldn't ask for. I hope the day finds you well and suddenly and unexpectedly wealthy.

No newsprint...? Where was that picture taken? Long John Silvers?

Silkie is right to say that I was never one for powdered wigs of any kind, being far too vain about that color awarded me at birth. While I will certainly leave the world crowned with but a remainder of my hair, and while that remainder will most certainly be ghostly white, I have never worn a wig that did not match my own hue. Also, the days in question did not include any other member of my crew or that of Captain Sterling's crew. We were, for this one misadventure, alone unto ourselves, though, as often as I have seen his man 'Dogge in a dress, I find myself believing that he was there and dressed in such a manner. This might be due in part to the passage of time or the fall which took place on the second evening. I cannot say. I can say, and with assurance, that Mistress Lilly McKinney was not there, as we changed lodgings some six times over the course of the events and I do not recall having seen here at any of the locations visited. Unless she came in at a window during the hours of noon and six of the evening on the second day of our tale, a feat that even the baboon would have found difficult, she was never once a part of the disaster as a whole. It should also be noted that the "baboon" played the smallest of parts in the overall scheme of things. I just like mentioning the baboon often, as the very idea of its presence tends to spark the imaginations of all. See every other post in this thread to mark how true this is. Also, the mention of it tends to send the good Captain Sterling into fits of embarrassing denial and I have never tired of this over the years.

In defense of Silas, he could certainly argue that silk is for colder climates than Key West.