William Brand

Crumpets...?

Aye. We also have cream.

Plain boiled leaves... Tell me. What plain woman did you choose at the brothel?

Thank you. One lump or two?

Oh...of course... I'll fetch that tea.

One that be not empty...? Are you looking for the brothel?

August 3, 1704 At three bells of the First Watch, Dorian's letter to Master Pew arrived aboard the Lucy, where it was received and passed aft to the officer of the deck. Also at three bells of the same watch, Lieutenant Roldán De la Cruz and Tudor Smith departed La cuisine de St. Martha, bound for the St. Louis docks while another Lieutenant, Monsieur Raul Turcotte, arrived at the La Montre De Nuit in the company of his thorough man, Quirion Charron. William and Dorian had waited at the small establishment long enough to question whether or not the Lieutenant would even arrive, but Turcotte had been busy since the delivery of the message, having already employed his excessive drive to achieve on the task of learning again what William had already described. Still, the driven Lieutenant had managed to discover the name of a second Frenchman who had arrived with the first by coach to collect Captain den Oven. In his enthusiasm, Turcotte had already dispatched soldiers to find the man and his carriage. He had also used the intervening time to send word to his superiors and beyond, noting that the Particular Governor of Martinique and acting Governor General of the Islands and the Firm Ground of the Americas, Nicolas de Gabaret, would have word of the escape. William and Dorian exchanged a look. For himself, William had hoped to keep the matter small, even private. His own men had been named and he and he alone had hoped to discover whether or not they had been involved. Much needed to be learned before drawing the power of France into the hunt for den Oven. Turcotte seemed to recognize this and he smiled a smile which William liked not at all. It was the smile of the empowered youth, given charge over his elders. It was the catbird grin. The smile of the fox in the henhouse. William smiled just enough in return to be cordial. He had planned to use the Lieutenant of course, but with limitations. Now, the young officer, this imagined terrier, was a league before him on the path of den Oven. It was not as he had planned. Still, William smiled outwardly even as he shrugged away his demolished expectations inwardly. Turcotte, propelled by the momentum of discovery and his efforts to shine before his superiors, plowed into William and Dorian with many questions. These came in quick succession. Sometimes he was content with a simple answer, but other times he pressed them for details, especially when touching on the subject of the three missing men. More than once he asked after them, implying many things in his tone as he did so. It was clear after a time that he thought that one or all of them had conspired to free den Oven. It was also made plain by his inquiries that he somehow imagined himself to be above William and Dorian. His air of superiority, previously diminished aboard the Lucy and the Watch Dog, had returned in long strides. 'I've sparked a dry field' William thought and wondered to himself if Dorian's patience for the young upstart was also being undermined by his persistent onslaught of words. Only the friendly presence of Turcotte's Sergeant had kept William himself from becoming terse. Sergeant Charron had smiled pleasantly and interjected his own tactful commentary throughout the conversation, but even Charron's genuine calm seemed to dwindle as the Lieutenant reached the end of his prolonged inquiry to announce that they would all accompany him while he fetched Donatien Durand. At this, Quirion Charron blanched.

Fetch me a fiddler and a comfortable chair. I want to put up my feet and doze a bit to music.

I know it's an hour early here, but somewhere it's Valentine's Day, so a very happy holiday to all.

Welcome aboard, Sah. There are always more pirates about then you can imagine. Enjoy your stay.

My friend Jeremy and I were talking about various subjects a few months back, when he happens to mention this guy named Greg Raymer. "Who's that?" I ask. He proceeds to tell me that there is this professional poker player named Greg Raymer who wears my glasses. He doesn't just wear them now and then, he wears them all of the time. See Wikipedia article here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greg_Raymer You see I made these lizard hologram glasses when I worked at Krystal Holographics back in 1995. You know the kind I'm talking about. Silly, novelty, hologram glasses. Don't get me wrong, I thought they turned out well for what they were back then, but I thought Jeremy was pulling my leg. I mean, novelty, lizard, hologram glasses...? But sure enough, I did a google image search on a whim tonight and there they are, plain as day. I also searched for Greg Raymer, and sure enough, there they are again...but it gets better. It seems that they've become enough of an icon that some companies have created Greg Raymer knock-off Lizard Hologram glasses. I kid you not. My stupid lizard glasses are being cranked out by knock-off companies in the UK and elsewhere. It's freaky. I need to call Greg Raymer and offer to sell him the original casting for the hologram model. Oh yes. Greg Raymer Lizard glases Knock-offs

Thank goodness, would like some privacy. ...but you camp with Billy and Maddogge.

August 3, 1704 - La Montre De Nuit Dorian's question was answered almost immediately as William stepped towards a nearby drinking house called La Montre De Nuit. He held the door open and gestured for Dorian, who proved tall enough that he had to remove his hat to duck through the low doorway. They found themselves in a room that was evenly as deep as it was wide. William had the distinct impression that the place had not begun as an alehouse, but he couldn't reason out why. It may have been the strange way in which the bar sat, almost central to the room. There was something clumsy about the placement of it, but as the alehouse was close to the fort, this mattered little, for La Montre De Nuit enjoyed its share of soldiers. "Perfect." William said smiling as a woman gestured them to the only open table. Both men dropped their hats onto the wide sill of the neighboring window and William called for pen, paper and a proper lamp. "Oui." she said smartly, and she fixed Dorian with a smile so forward, that William paused to raise an eyebrow as he was removing his baldric. "Sending word to Preston?" Dorian asked, watching the woman pass into the throng. "No, actually." William said, "Though perhaps we should. No, I mean to send a different correspondence. I have an idea which may turn past misfortunes...or rather suspicions, into fortunes." "Eh?" "It was something in what you said about den Oven. How did you put it? He's gone to ground...?" "Aye." "Have you ever hunted rabbit or foxes with dogs?" William asked, then amended. "Or perhaps more appropriately...hunted rats?" "Aye." Dorian conceded as the woman returned with a small box with paper and quills. "Do you mean t' use our dogs?" "Perhaps, but we have not the resources to chase den Oven on our own. What we need is a Terrier." William explained as he drew out a quill. "Albiet a French one." "Not Durand." "Yes and no." William returned. "I'm thinking of Turcotte." Dorian raised both eyebrows a little. "Lieutenant Turcotte has a terrier spirit and reason enough to pursue the matter. He has already demonstrated his persistent and stubborn willingness to use man like Durand. Or misuse." "True." Dorian agreed, but there was no mistaking the 'but' in his voice. "We can lay the shooting on the Cul du Sac Royal at the feet of den Oven." William said, smiling wickedly. "And...remove one pursuit for another." Dorian agreed, nodding.

August 3, 1704 - The Fort Royal Prison William drained the glass at a go and said, "Wait here." He went out and down into the midnight cells once more and was gone but a few minutes. The guards did not follow him there and they did not block his way when he returned to the world again. He made his way back into the room. "Van Zandt never once saw Klaas. He but heard the name from the Frenchman when he fetched out den Oven." "Then your man is absolved of the matter." Dufour attempted cheerfully. William gave him a look. "The men who came had the presence of mind to use his name. How do you imagine that they knew the name of Scymmelpenninck and that he was not aboard the Watch Dog when they besmirched him?" Dufour shut his mouth again. William went out into the night air to clear his head and to be free of the company of the attache. Dorian joined him there and they mused aloud about the possibilities. "He has whole a day on our discovery." "And any point of th' compass." Dorian added. "Aye." William agreed, gravely. "How many ship left the Cul du Sac Royal in that time, do you think?" "Two at least that I took notice of...." Dorian returned. "...t' say nothing of St. Pierre." "And the Eastern ports." William added, removing his hat and running one hand through his hair in a slow, tired gesture. "We must fear the worst now for the missing men." He looked up suddenly. "Eric and Jean may have reached Aube Sucré by now. Damn." "Den Oven..." Dorian spat. "He'll have gone t' ground by now." "Aye." William agreed, but he was at a loss as what to do about it, so not knowing what to do, and with no obvious action before them, they took to questioning the guards who had been on duty the night before. They managed a few details, but much of what they gleaned was forgettable or vague. Then William had a thought. It was something Dorian had said about the man 'going to ground'. "I have an idea, " William said at once and they left the prison bound for other apartments.

Very nice, Mister Greene.

August 3, 1704 - At La cuisine de St. Martha Roldán accepted this with a nod and nothing more. His eyes betrayed no other emotions. He made no effort to press the point. Instead, he refreshed her glass, and openly proclaimed, "If Brand should be accused of little else, it can be said off him that he breeds loyalty in a gathering of amazing fellows." Then he quickly ammended. "And amazing women." He said this last part with a genuine and guileless tone, and the compliment, while it took in Tudor as well, was honestly meant for all of the women aboard the Watch Dog and Lucy. Still, he made a point of complimenting Tudor herself. "I'm glad of the errand tonight."

August 3, 1704 - At La cuisine de St. Martha Roldán smiled and raised his glass again. It was a fair answer, plain and straight forward, and for a time he was content to eat and listen to the music played by a solitary flute which seemed to come from another room. To add to this, the church bell rang the nine bells of the hour, though not overloud. Over time Roldán watched Tudor less like a Lieutenant and more like a person across a dinner table. Several questions appeared subtly on his face, but were not asked, and the course came and went with few words spoken until the arrival of a flaming dessert. It had the ominous, though unintentional appearance of a ship on fire. "If I may make an observation..." Roldán began and Tudor nodded. "Some of these tales of Captain Brand seem new and unknown to you, Miss Smith. You are his Steward, but one would think that you do not know him well. Many of the stories I have mentioned tonight are fiercely repeated as gospels in the book of your Brand." Larboard Watches on Duty

August 3, 1704 - At La cuisine de St. Martha "Perhaps we should speak plainly. The Navarra requires an escort for the ship and her goods to Trinidad. It is rumored that the Watch Dog means to travel there, and the...excuse me, Lucy...?" "Aye, the Lucy." "Thank you. The Lucy means to travel with her. My Captain will pay for the escort and protection of two such vessels. Can you say with a certainty that such an arrangement would not prove ill for us? Do you know your Captain well enough to speak for him?"

August 3, 1704 - The Fort Royal Prison "For what, Captain?" William returned, his eyes still firmly fixed on Dufour. "Had you struck Monsieur l'imbécile and dashed an eye, my good Captain, no apology would be necessary." He stepped closer to Dufour. "I will now explain to you your orders, Monsieur Bénédicte Dufour." If Dufour wanted to protest at this, he did not. "You will remember your failings with care when asked what happened yesternight. You will take as much blame as you think you may and keep your place. I care very little how you avail yourself before your superiors." William continued to advance until he was almost toe to toe with the man. "As for me...I will forget the long and tedious inquisitions you visited upon me when I came with proper papers. I will forget the disdain you showed towards me and my men when I twice visited the prison seeking to find recruits with true petition. I will forget how you caused us to stand in the rain. I will forget all, but forget not me, Monsieur. Forget not me when you speak of this, for if you should place this trespass upon me or my men, I will come again without title or script and explain myself in a fashion beneath civility. Beneath Heaven and Earth. I will come armed with rage and purpose with Capatin Lasseter as my second and no second, third or fourth that you might call for will be enough. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Monsieur?"

August 3, 1704 - The Fort Royal Prison The guards would have pressed the door if not for two matters. One, they owed no true allegiance to Monsieur Dufour, apart from being posted to the prison, and two, William had already fixed them with that dread expression that warned,"Come not in by the door gentlemen. You are not sufficiently compensated for duty this threatening." William turned again to Dufour, who stood unable to answer Dorian. William went to ask him about the Frenchman, but an idea occurred to him then that gave him pause. "Moniseur...how seemed Klass Scymmelpenninck to you?" "Seemed...?" Dufour started, and Dorian glared at him. "He was quiet, Monsieur." "Aye, and not unlike him to be so." William agreed, but then added nothing himself, for his mind was already racing down the many avenues of possibility. Dorian had the presence of mind to make one of the most important inquiries of the moment. "Describe Scymmelpenninck?" "I remember him little." Dufour insisted, but something in Dorian's face invited him to be more specific. "He was dark...and, older." Dorian looked at William. "Dark...?" "Scymmelpenninck was fair and of some nineteen years." William explained and the look that he gave Dufour was so full of reproach that the man flinched, but it was nothing compared to the words Dorian visited upon his head.

August 3, 1704 - The Fort Royal Prison "Perhaps you would explain it to him, Monsieur." William said roughly. Bénédicte Dufour had already returned to himself a little and he shrugged off William's hand indignantly. He further gained his former aloofness with the arrival of several of the prison guards. "Barre outre de vos mains, capitaine!" William glowered and would have shouted again, but the air outside was already clearing his head, and as his lungs replaced the foul air, his foul mood was also replaced. Still, he lost none of his momentum. "Monsieur, would you please explain to us what transpired yesterday evening?" Bénédicte cleared his throat and began. "Your men, Monsiuer, came to the prison by lamplight and in a carriage." "What men?" Dorian asked. "Klass Scymmelpenninck and a Frenchman." William answered, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone. "Oui." Dufour agreed. "Your men..." "Call them my men once more, Monsieur." William growled, stepping a forward. "Please. Just once more." Dufour retreated a step, but with the guards there he retained a certain superiority. "These men came with letters from you." "Which you read, of course." Dorian added. "Well..." Dufour faltered. "No." William closed his eyes and walked away from Dufour in a wide circle, sliding the palm of one hand all the way down his face in slow exasperation. Dufour plowed ahead. "The Commandant was away. He had just left. I was busy with other matters, Monsieur." Dorian just shook his head. "Capitaine Brand is allowed some four score..." "And ten, yes." William finished for him. "You kept me drilling on the cobblestones the better part of an hour when I came for recruits!" "I..." "Who was the Frenchman?" William pressed, too impatient now to care that Dufour was thronged about by armed men. This question utterly undid Dufour, for he had not known the man and could not say much about him apart from his name. Then he offered to fetch the books. "By all means, Monsieur."

August 3, 1704 - The Fort Royal Prison William watched Dorian depart with a measure of empathy, for he too had choked down the smell of the place on his previous visits. William turned again to Van Zandt and tried to find words to bring the man out, but there were none, so he parted with a promise to move those in charge to some sympathy regarding the Doctor and his wounded men. "I will do everything in my power to see you moved to the daylight cells, Doctor." William promised, then added. "...and as far from den Oven as possible." William smiled as he spoke this last part, but his smile faltered, for Van Zandt looked troubled and made as if to speak. He opened his mouth but it was Bénédicte Dufour who filled the pause. "Capitaine Brand...I..." Dufour began, and he paled a little as he began. A cold feeling crept down into William guts and a chill ran up his frame that prompted an involuntary shiver. "Yes...?" "Your men came again yesternight with aaaa...petition for Capitaine den Oven..." William did not wait for Monsieur Dufour to finish. Instead, he bolted to the last door of the midnight cells and pressed his lantern to the small window there. The cell, but for one remaining man, was otherwise empty. William rushed back to the attache and the Doctor, crying, "What men were they that came here last night?" Dufour shook his head. The blood had gone from his face. He looked the part of a man who had suddenly found himself removed from his position. "Mon dieuuu..." "What men were they?" William all but shouted again, grabbing the man by the collar. "Scymmelpenninck vas one." Van Zandt said, answering for the shaken attache. William's eyes widened and he looked angry, bewildered and frantic all at once. He just stood there, still clutching Dufour by the collar. "Was Wellings the other?" "No." Van Zandt returned. "A Frenchmen...I knew not his name." "Your men came for him with petition, Monsieur" Dufour tried to explain again. William turned on the man. "What angel in Hell would petition den Oven? Good gods, man!" William let go of him and paced a tight line along the corridor He seemed to speak only to himself. "A day gone. Already a day gone." "My apologies, Kapitein." Van Zandt said quietly. "Ve knew of no petition. Ve thought den Oven vas ransomed." William returned to himself at once. He nodded to the Doctor and grabbed Dufour up by the collar once more, too bewildered and angry to care if he had the power to order the attache around or not. "You will follow me this instant, sah!" then he turned an raced up the stairs, taking the precarious steps in pairs until he had reached the upper landing. Dorian could hear him yelling from the darkness long before he reached the open air. "Dorian! Den Oven is gone!"

299 days 20 hours 39 minutes and 30 seconds left until the 2008 Fort Taylor Pirate Fest!

Did your signature get longer...again?

August 3, 1704 - At La cuisine de St. Martha Tudor said nothing at first. She simply ate and smiled. Roldán made no effort to press her. He ate and smiled as pleasantly as one might with an old friend, enjoying the conversation and the silence equally. Tudor pondered what she knew about Captain Brand, though having known him for only a few short months, that knowledge was not significant. She had heard of the shipwrecks from William's own mouth, for he had talked of running the Hamer Hoen aground on two occasions, once on accident and once on purpose. He had of course recovered the ship on both occasions, and had even bragged of it, but this knowledge paled in comparison to some of the horrors laid out by the Lieutenant. The Tudor answered the only way she knew how, but in a way that placed the burden of explanation back upon Roldán. "You must first tell me where you learned of each rumor. I would know the bias of each tale." Roldán smiled and raised his glass a little. "The lady understands retreats and advances." First Bell of the First Watch Elsewhere at the Fort Royal Prison William and Dorian went in by the main gate of the Fort Royal Prison, and by the navigation of a few turns, they found themselves in the courtyard near the office of the Commandant. Louis de Mallevaud was not at the prison that night, owing to a dinner party he was attending in honor of a friend's birthday. His attache, Bénédicte Dufour, examined their papers once more before escorted them again into the bowels of the midnight cells. The lower cellblock, which had been gloomy by daylight on previous visits, proved utterly inky by night. The one solitary and sputtering lamp which lit its central corridor, served only to cast shadows on shadows and the dim flame demonstrated how poor the air was below the prison. It made the walls glisten wherever ground water had seeped into the place. It punctuated the small, dark squares which served for windows on the cells doors along the left side of the corridor, and emphasized the deep open barred cells to the right. Despite the heavy gloom the lamp made of the place, it was alive with coughing, snoring, conversation and one poor singer, all trying to survive one more night cut off from stars and sky. William felt both glad and guilty of the two lamps they carried into the place, for the light attracted thin, blinking men from the many corners and shadows. They seemed to emerge from deep recesses within the walls. They came up to the cell bars and the small windowed doors in a quiet shuffle that was unsettling, like waking dead. Among them was Doctor Arts Van Zandt, a regal man standing tall among the withering. "No, Kapitein. I vill not go vith you." Van Zandt said, smiling and cutting to the chase before William could make the offer of escape once more. William returned the smile, but shook his head. "Why would you remain in such a place?" William asked, though he knew the answer. The Doctor did not make a reply. "I have come again to ask, but this time with more earnest. Our Doctor is gone and I have three times the number that I arrived with, but now I have no one to attend to them." "As you see, Kapitein, I 'ave no shortage of patients here." Van Zandt gestured about the barred cell and in the direction of the two further along the corridor. "Und some zere unseen." He added, nodding towards the many doors opposite, where only a few faces observed them threw the small, barred windows. William's eyes fell upon the last cell door there, where he expected to see the dour face of den Oven, but the former Captain was not watching the proceedings. "If you will not accept freedom and employment, sah, will you accept a gift?" "A gift...?" Van Zand returned, then shrugged. "I vill not refuse any good zing in zis place, Kapitein." William looked at Monsieur Dufour as if to ask the attache if it would be allowed to give a prisoner goods. Dufour stepped forward an examined the parcels which William had purchased just that evening with Dorian. Dufour searched through each item, and as they were approved William passed them to Van Zandt. In this way, each parcel circled between the men, arriving in Van Zandt's surprised but grateful hands. For as he collected the items, it was apparent that all of the gifts were either tools of medicine or medicines themselves. When all of them had been passed in to Van Zandt, Dufour reminded Captain Brand that such items might not remain in the charge of Van Zandt if the Commandant de Mallevaud should not approve. William acknowledged that the gifts might be short lived, but he felt confident that Monsieur de Mallevaud would be fair on the matter. "Kapitein, I don't...I..." Van Zandt began, but William simply nodded. "Men whom we have never met, in rooms we have never visited, made us enemies, Doctor. If strangers can cause us to fight strangers, then we may decide when to be civil without care of offending them." William explained. "They gave no thought to us when they caused us to be enemies, so I say we should give no thought to them when we decide to be friends." William might have won Arts Van Zandt over then had it not been for the Doctor's oath not to leave the men in his care. Van Zandt would never leave them, come what may. He would stay to nurse every man to health or every dying man to his ease. William accepted this, though being without a surgeon, he was obliged to try. This done, he thanked Van Zandt once more for hearing him out and bid the good Doctor good health and the hope that he would one day 'practice medicine in a place of fresher air than this'. Dorian and William made as if to go then, but Van Zandt called them back again. "A word, Kapitein. If I may." William walked over to Van Zandt and the Doctor pressed his face to the bars to speak to him as privately as the bars allowed. "I do not know vat it can mean to you, but you have been fair, so I tell you zis zat perhaps it may help you." "Yes...?" William prompted when Van Zandt paused. "If you remember, you had me examine ze vounded und ze dead ven ve lost za Heron und Maastricht." "Aye." William agreed. "I remember." "I examined za dead from za Heron und Maastricht...und za injuries vere consistent vith za battle, save one. Kapitein Stoneburrows vas not killed by shot or splinter. He vas stabbed." William looked at Van Zandt for a moment, and then shook his head. "He was shot. Kapitein Stoneburrows was shot. A wound of the chest if memory serves." Van Zandt shook his head, so William called Dorian over and explained the same to him. Dorian agreed that Van Zandt was mistaken. "There was no such inj'ry given when th' Heron was boarded. Th' man was shot." Van Zandt nodded, but repeated his discovery. "Kapitein Stoneburrows vas also stabbed." he said emphatically, then added, "In za back."