William Brand

Actually, I sent it directly to the good Doctor and he was kind enough to post it to the propaganda section of the site and send me a pleasant email in return.

My first piece of propaganda for the Doctor...

August 5, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Abel Fenner was as tired as he had ever been, what with the work of the day and the constant attention to the powder in recent poor weather. It was hard work serving under men of the 'Dog, for Petee and Simon were relentless in there duties and expected as much of the men and boys. Still, Abel found it better work than the Maastricht, for here he was Master Fenner, the boy not quite the man, but respected. He followed in the wake of Simon Dunwalt as the Gunner's Mate made his way down the row of Larboard guns. Simon didn't mind the added shadow, for Abel was a quick study in the art of lead, and despite knowing little or no English, he was intuitive for a lad. It also helped that Simon understood both English and Dutch, so even as they went they practiced upon the languages and the terminology of the guns. As they went, Abel felt eyes upon him and looked about more than once to find them, but failed. The feeling followed him about the deck and he was full turn of the glass trying to decide if it was his imagination or not when he caught sight of Harry Saltash. Saltash was coiling line at the foredeck along with several others, but watching Abel with more than a passing interest. Abel did not know what to think of this, for there was little expression in the man's face, and apart from looking in Abel's direction, the man seemed distracted by thoughts elsewhere. Abel tried to not to look in the man's direction more than once and failed each time, so that it seemed that Saltash watched him all the more. Simon caught this unspoken exchange and furrowed his brow a bit. He had never liked Saltash, though why he did not like him couldn't say, Simon being from the Maastricht and not the Heron. There was something in the half dead eyes of the man and the way he watched people continuously that reminded Simon of a dog not to put much trust in. Saltash seemed a brutish creature. A bull just beyond the fence. Simon put a hand on Abel's shoulder and turned him about. "Pay that one no mind but mind your pay. " he said in Dutch, borrowing on a phrase his uncle had used oft. Then, for reasons he couldn't be sure of, Simon added. "You kick a dog between the eyes...and a man between the legs, Mister Fenner. Remember it." Abel found this advice most unsettling, but didn't know why. He simply nodded as they made their rounds. Just after seven bells of the Afternoon Watch Larboard Watches on Duty

It is a very large house to be serving a round, Monsieur. We'll be a week at the task at least. Merci beaucoup, et l'accueillez à bord.

Funny on many levels. If ever there was a "Come again...? What was that you said there about the Blackheart, Matey?" kind of shot, this would be it. Never talk ill of the Blackheart.

Classic.

A Merry Christmas to all, and to all the good fight.

Hurricane did a fine and funny rendition of the Night Before Christmas, so I was inspired to do one for us... Twas the night before Christmas and all through the frigate, Not a creature was stirring, but for Gage at a gigot. The swivels were fixed at the taft rail with care In hopes that some action would bring them to bear. The yonkers were snuggled all safe in their bunks, With visions of prize money locked 'way in trunks. And Claude at the helm, with Treasure aloft, Kept they the night vigil while the bell sounded oft. Then up in the rigging there arose such a clatter. As Ciaran cried; "Sail ho! Two points Starboard! We have her!" Brand rushed to the railing and there caused a flash off the lens of the spyglass he pulled from his sash. The moon on the crest of a breaker or two Gave the lustre of mid-watch a sail sighted true. When, what to their wondering eyes should appear, But a merchantmen bearing away out of fear. With the press of the canvas and the wind at their back Brand knew in a moment they'd o'erwelm their tack. More rabid then hellhounds their course well provided. Brand whistled to see then the spoils soon divided. "Cry Havoc, Load George, Straight Shot and His Grace! Run out the great twelve and prepare all the eights! To the top of the Mainsail, to the top of the Fore! Now every last man be prepared to make war!" As ships before the wild hurricane fly Closed they with their quarry and prepared to shanghai. Marines of the Larboard and Starboard were sent, To the maintop and foretop with muskets they went. And then with an inkling they turned to the Captain Their faces all fired 'gainst the soon to be action. Brand drew in a breath and he nodded to Jim, "Every man to his duty and keep the sails trim." Then Brand took up pistols, his baldric and sword, While Jim called for Badger and Badger the horde. "Run out the great gunns and bring them to bear! Mind match and the powder! You there, have a care!" The orders, they bellowed! Instructions, they hollered! Each man knew his place, firmly fixed as a bollard. They ran out the guns at the Master's instruction Leviathan, Charity and Iron Destruction. The stump of a pipe was held tight in Pete's teeth And he drew out his pistol and sword from its sheath. "Come Roberts, Come Tudor, let's be now about it! A coin t' the man who unmasts that there lout, Brit'!" They closed with their prey. They shouted. They cursed. They sent fear before them and promised their worst. And though they were smaller, the 'Dog half their size. The Merchantmen's confidence failed in surprise. For as the 'Dog closed, every crew member poised To raise a great din and a terrible noise. They screamed and they yelled in an effort to drown The Lucy's approach as she slipped silent' round. Brand sprang to the rail, to his dogs gave a cry. "We have them, We have them! Let fire! Let fly!" And Lasseter's guns, brass as church bells rung loudly. "Merry Christmas, you bastards! We've beaten you soundly!"

Chatting in the Ward Room with Lasseter, Sterling and Jack.

The Rob Lowe is still me favorite.

I think this person's inner child is on a milk carton somewhere.

August 5, 1704 - Somewhere along the road to St. Pierre The day waned as slowly as it had before, but now for reasons more mortal. They crossed a bridge along the way which spanned a stream almost too small to have bothered with such a structure. But for the bump at either end, it was the smoothest part of their ride. Wellings proved as strong a passenger and patient as one could hope for. Strangely enough, Wellings seemed better when conversation was put to him at regular intervals, so Dorian asked him many questions about his perils. The primary question was Wellings' ability to travel with a ball lodged in his armpit, and Wellings admitted that he was unaware of the injury for the duration of his ride, thinking that the pain had come from some brutality of feet or fists after he was knocked down by his attackers. He had been fortunate enough to be clothed in several layers of garments, and these layers, combined with the weight of his arm and the assistance of gravity, had pressed upon the small hole and kept him from bleeding too quickly. It also seemed that the ball had not passed into any organs, for his breathing was easy, apart from the pain at his side. Only when he had ridden the horse far, had he begun to bleed enough to pass out, falling from the saddle. "Yer a damn lucky fellow, Mister Wellings." William said, more than once. "No' so lucky, sah." Wellings corrected. "Pai' 'n lead, no' gold." "Aye." William agreed and smiled to see Wellings smile. "A man capable of wit before the grave might trick the devil." William added, and was uncertain then where he had heard the phrase, attributing it to as many as three different men of his past. "Dice an' a dance, puts th' devil 'n a trance." Wellings returned and took another proffered sip from Dorian's bottle and closed his eyes. They had far to go yet.

A big thanks To Cheeky Actress fro sending along my wanted posters from the event and to the Callahans for taking them.

That flag is going to look smaller and smaller every year. Very nice.

Cache Valley. Trappers used the valley to store pelts and goods. The original name was Willow River or Willow Valley in Shoshone. http://www.tourcachevalley.com/ EDIT: Maeve beat me to it by six minutes.

I don't have any Irish sayings at my immediate disposal, so, I'll just cut to the chase... Happy birthday. May you soon become filthy, stinkin' rich.

I know that most of you haven't seen the packaging for last year's movie and photo DVDs, because we're still re-editing the video due to music issues, but if you want me to take everyone's pictures and put them together in one package with a cover I'm available. We're also willing to edit video.

My first battle at PIP... Mike and I were picked to be on a cannon crew west of the fort. We fired some eleven shots in succession before taking up our place among the lines of pirates forming in the field. Braze was leading our part of the charge as a small band of redcoats dared the field. We we're all marching together and I turned to Mike and said, "See ya in Hell, Mike." "It's been a pleasure serving with you, William." he returned. Then I realized that a surprise approach was afforded us if we could gain the moat before the redcoats reached the field, so I turned to Braze and asked, "Permission to run ahead and take them from the side, sah!" "Permission granted, but be quick about it!" he barked around a cigar. Mike and I ran across the field to reach the moat before the redcoats spotted us from the path. The coral, being what it is, I slipped as I ran and tripped, going head long down the embankment. I turned my ankle and went face first into an anthill. Still, we were hidden within moments as the redcoats came up on our left. Then we waited and watched as the lined up in typical fashion to fire upon the approaching pirates from the west. Braze kept their attention focused there, and as soon as they fired a volley, we rushed them while they reloaded. Gutted my first Englishman that day...only to learn later that we were supposed to take all of the prisoners alive. That was also the time that I met Willie Wobble.

Nice. Tracy made a meatloaf cake with mashed potato frosting for April Fool's one year. Bacon would have really sold that cake. It was a very nice birthday. We had a late breakfast. Tracy took a half day off from work. I finished getting the new office set for wiring and bought the last of the supplies to do the plugs and ceiling fixture. We took a road trip and went shopping for our Blue Sun themed Firefly party on Sunday. Tracy bought me a signed copy of Chris Sanders' Kiskaloo...a comic about a cat that wears a skull eye patch... Later, my mparents watched the kids for over three ours while we went to Le Nonne for dinner and then took in a movie.

Thank you, all. It looks to be a grand day, once we take Utah Beach of course. To answer Mister Thatcher, I am 38 years of age. William "Red Wake" Brand is 338.

A great example of space saving function and form from the 1600s... ...an oak hutchtable which serves as a chair or table.

Yeah right, can't even get a bleedin coat down to the bloody post office... damnation... You are the Pan...on a budget.

I want to say that it was someone I spoke to prior to PIP 2007, so it might have been Hawkyns...maybe. I remember talking about it to Willie Wobble and Captain Sterling.

Some time ago someone mentioned having access to a period camp/cook's box. This person had come across plans for one in German or Dutch I believe, but they never got back to me, and now I can't remember who it was... Whoever it was, please step forward and remind me! I'll lie awake tonight if you don't!

The experience was very much the same about the guillotine years back.