William Brand

Durand did not pet the Pooka. He extended no hand and he made no overture to the ship's cat apart from the initial smile. He didn't mind such animals and he had never drawn a line in the sand either for or against cats, liking both dogs and cats equally since an early age, though to be honest, he was indifferent to them equally, having never had one that meant any more to him than a tool. Dogs for guards. Cats for rodents. Still, he was distracted. Miss Poole's company was bothering him considerably, though he wasn't sure that this was in fact her name. He had not recognized her upon arriving, but having slept upon the pillows she had bedded down upon before him, he could not mistake her smell. It was something about the soap she used or the perfume of her clothing. It was also the scent of the woman herself. 'Parfum de chair' he thought with a smile. "Might I have another cup of tea, Miss Poole?"

Silkie needs chicken soup with thyme. There. You'll feel better.

William found it hard to consider much of what she said, for the fact that her father was a Baron had surprised him, and he said as much. He was also surprised to learn that her intended fiance was a man of power. He was quiet for a time and considered several avenues of outcome, all of them bad. Then, he returned to the subject of Durand. "I have, even now, a man of some seeming power in the ward room aboard this ship who has been instructed to search our ledgers for discrepancies. To what end I know not. It is likely that he will employ any mistake found therein to harass the Lucy and the 'Dog to some unimaginable end, due in part to an equally mysterious occurrence which took place upon the Cul du Sac Royal just yesterday past. Now, you would have me add to the dangers spread before me by taking you on as a passenger, thereby incurring the wrath of your father the baron, who no doubt possesses some power here at Martinique and to whom I may find myse..." "My father is not at Martinique, Sah." Briar corrected, gently. This gave William pause. "And just where may he be found, Miss Kildare? Where did you part his company?" "England, Sah. My fiance is also..." "England...? Your father is in England? What danger can you be in at Martinique with your father in England?" William looked about the docks and spread a hand in one wide gesture. "This is France..."

It was a grand holiday and I made out like a bandit. Pirate books, food galore and no shortage of family fun.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Just a brief pause in the festivities to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas!

And a good holiday for singing too. I shall add a baritone to the mix and we shall see what we can make of a few tunes.

"There may be no convenient time for some time, Miss Kildare. We are, even at this time, playing chess with those powers that be, and our situation is uncertain. This is of course, part and parcel to our existence, for I myself have been on the run for some eight years already." William paused, but he was troubled enough with the bothersome details, that explaining the larger picture would have indeed required him to sit down and discuss the matter with Briar over several hours. Meanwhile, the unknown Durand, the mysterious Miss Ashcombe and every other errand that waited for him were passing him by, moment by moment. "I am the Captain of a privateer. I have some one hundred able seamen aboard my ship, and while they are most able in every capacity and capability aboard the Watch Dog, great and small, they are also...many of them...capable of vile crimes against men and women alike. Some of them have committed acts both horrendous and capital. To add to this, nearly half of those aboard the 'Dog and Lucy are just recently come from the Fort Royal Prison, and I cannot say aught of them, but that they were so recently prisoners! I could never vouch for your safety anymore than I could vouch for my own. At least in any absolute way." William paused, because he could not contain the rising anger in his voice, and knowing that so little of it had to do with Miss Kildare, he forced himself to stop for the moment. Briar was as she was before and kept her own council long enough that William was, by sheer practice of a patience earned over many years, forced to change his tone to one gentle, if not a little artificial. "Miss Kildare. Your service to Mister Pew not withstanding, please understand that your request comes at a time when I cannot consider it...unless. Unless you make me understand why you must leave this paradise on Earth for destinations unknown in the company of pirates and prisoners while you have adequate lodging, clothing, friendship and the means to enjoy them all. I will not be making another appointment with you and will not hear this request again unless I may be certain that you will explain your need so well as to earn passage by the tale alone. Can you now give me any reason that I should give you an audience again on this matter?"

Welcome aboard.

August 3, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy William said nothing. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter which Briar had addressed to Captain Lasseter. He unfolded it gently, explaining as he did so, that Dorian had given the letter to him upon its arrival. He read it aloud, word for word, before folding it again and replacing it in his pocket. "Miss Kildare, your request, while unusual, is certainly not confusing. That said, I had thought to speak with you on this matter privately later today, but as you've come now I shall speak plainly. You cannot be unaware that the Watch Dog is a privateer, and that therefore, as her companion, the Her...pardon...the Lucy is also a privateer."

At first, Preston did not allow Briar to board. Durand's presence had caused enough tension in the otherwise pleasant morning. Then it occurred to him that he might learn more of Durand if he could get one of the Captains away from the man, so he invited Miss Kildare to step in at the rails of the Lucy and asked her to remain there. Then he sent Tucker aft to fetch back Captain Lasseter or Brand. Durand had just finished one ledger and was beginning a second when Christopher Tucker knocked at the ward room door. He was invited in, where he stood with his removed cap. "Beg pardon, Cap'n Lasseter...Cap'n Brand. One of the women that saw to Mister Pew...she's come aboard asking for the Cap'ns." William and Dorian exchanged a look, and William's face was as perturbed then as it had been over the tea. Durand looked up from the ledger during this punctuated silence, but watched them with only a passing interest. "Your pardon, Sah. Captain." William said, excusing himself from the table. He gathered up his hat and went out of the room with Tucker following behind. Tucker went directly to Preston's side again as William stepped up to Miss Kildare, bowing to her graciously enough though he had no real smile at that moment. "Welcome aboard the Lucy, Miss Kildare. How may I be of service?"

"This is too much at once." Tucker said, moving to the rail as Miss Kildare came into view at the bottom of the gangplank. Preston joined him there and was not pleased at the sight of Miss Kildare, though his mood had more to do with the quantity of events unfolding, than the quality of the company. "Miss Kildare." Mister Pew said with the smallest nod as she appeared at the gangplank. Briar thanked the man who had brought her to the Lucy and he left with a simple 'Pleasure!', hat in hand. "What brings you to the Lucifer this fine morning?" he said, with a small smile that had little mirth to it.

Monsieur Durand continued to look over the ledgers, and had only looked up as Miss Ashcombe was ushered into the room. His one good eye had fallen on her just long enough to acknowledge her arrival with the heavy laden tray and no more, his perusal of the ledger continuing almost unabated. He did stop once to make note of Dorian's 'good hand', complaining aloud that Captain Stoneburrow's penmanship demonstrated a man incapable of much finesse. Dorian agreed, for he had fixed some of Stoneburrow's notations due to the previous Captain's incompetence, and also to correct for goods lost in battle or sold in port. Jenny began the business of pouring tea, but not before pausing as she did so, uncertain who was to be served first, for it was Dorian's ship, William was the Captain of the Whole Company, Durand was a guest, and Miss McDonough was the only lady at the table. The matter of serving was determined by Dorian who gave her a nod towards Miss McDonough. The next serving went to Durand, who stopped as she served him. William had been watching Durand the whole time with a growing impatience, not because of the man's purpose, but because he could find no comfortable way to excuse himself to those pressing duties elsewhere. William did not want to abandon Dorian and the others to some intrigue that might be dismissed easier if he were present, so he lingered. Despite his growing fatigue at the stilted conversation and the long silences, he was rewarded for his diligence in watching Durand carfeully for any disagreeable signs, when Miss Ashcombe interrupted him with a cup of tea. The man not only paused, as was polite, he reacted. One moment he was reading along a page filled to the edges with tallies of rum and bread and the next he was turning to thank Jenny for the tea before him. William couldn't be certain, but he thought that Durand's nostrils flared. The Frenchman looked at Miss Ashcombe with a look of formality mixed with an habitual social grace, but with an added something that William found...telling. He couldn't decide if the smile that crossed Durand's eye, not his mouth, was a look that belied good or bad fortune. It was there one moment and gone the next, for Jenny did not meet Durand's gaze and he turned back to the ledgers before him at once. For the next few minutes William continued to watch the man and was quite certain that Durand was distracted ever after. William also noted that Dorian seemed to feel the change whether he had witnessed the subtle smile or not.

Jaaaaack. You'll be welcome as long as there's a Pub to welcome you back. You are on the menu. You're part of the traditional fabric of the place. Your name is scribbled on half the walls of the Pub. If there isn't room for you then there isn't room for any of us.

Let's toast friends instead. To Kardal, mess mate aboard the Kingfisher. I man of profound wisdom, despite almost 40 years of illiteracy. The man had a way with words he could never spell.

But who to talk about...? Andries, the Scarecrow, Tawny...? So many close calls. So many graves, watery or otherwise.

The year might be one of the few reliable things about that page. Admission...0.00 is misleading unless you are a re-enactor. Number of booths 100? Stages...ten? The numbers seem a little random. I would say...one huge stage spread across the whole park.

The Kate is quiet tonight. I had thought to hire a fife player and half a dozen drummers, but this will do. We'll save the candles and just sit by the fire and spin yarns about the Western Desert and the Virginia colonies. We'll speak fondly of old shipmates and dead enemies.

I don't know when it started. I actually think of this as the first year, since in many ways, we all helped to put it back on the map. The unified effort to restore the festival certainly made it a banner year, but I'd love to know the history from the beginning.

The shortest day of the year makes for a long night of drinking!

I was going to make espresso...

Jib has worked the Minnesota Renn Faire. I believe that Sjöröveren and Red Bess are from there. The Fools Gold crew covers some of that area http://www.foolsgoldpirates.com . Welcome aboard.

August 3, 1704 - Ward Room of the Lucy Monsieur Durand scanned every line of the ledger with the deft skill of one who reads between them just as well. He would sometimes stop, his lips moving quietly as he made a silent notation in his head, storing away goods and numbers against some eventual end not yet discussed. While perusing some unremarkable notations on ship's stores, he made unexpected conversation, breaking the silence with his first observation of the day, apart from the Ward Room having chairs. "It is widely rumored on the docks that you keep some seven women aboard ship, Captain." he said to no one in particular. "I don't keep any of them aboard, Monsieur." William returned, since he had the lion's share of women. "Neither do I." Dorian agreed. Duran looked up with one grey-green eye and one dark, prismatic orb and waited for them to amend their comments and he looked certain that they would. He was not disappointed, for William, preferring some conversation to so much silence, added to his answer, knowing that it would go a long way to calming the room. "You are correct in the number, but not in the keeping. I have in my service some seven women exactly, not counting a guest recently come aboard, and as she has worked in trade for food and clothing since her arrival. It might therefore be said that eight women live and work aboard the 'Dog. I am fortunate to have so many." William said, though he did not feel equally fortunate about all eight women. Dorian made as if to speak, but Durand was suddenly very talkative. He did not stop looking at the ledgers. His eyes never left them at all, but he began questioning William at length. "Thiz...guest. Thiz newest woman. Tell me of her, Capitaine." William shrugged, and genuinely too, for he knew almost nothing of the pickpocket turned mess mate, apart from her masquerade, which he left from his narrative. "She's little more than an urchin, Monsieur. A ragamuffin. A creature of cobwebs and cobblestones. Our Miss McDonough, in her charity, brought the girl aboard that she might eat and make herself known to our rag bins." "I see." Durand looked at Murin then, who smiled pleasantly enough, despite the smallest twitches at her mouth. Durand smiled back, though it was more social reflex than smile. "And what more do you know of her, Capitaine?" "Little to nothing." William admitted. "She arrived bundled and bound as one wearing all that she possessed." Durand nodded, one finger tracing down the page. He said nothing for a full minute and no one seemed to know where to carry the conversation next. William was sitting to Durand's left, comfortably faced towards Durand's good eye, with Murin on Durand's blindside. Dorian, sat at the head of his own table facing Durand. After that quiet minute had passed, Durand began to speak about rumors and the hearsay about Martinique. "There have been strange goings on of late." he began, and William noted how well he used his understanding of English to frame sentences and phrases particular to the language. "Take for instance the murder of Monsieur Basile Duflot de Mofras, a man of some importance here at Martinique." Jenny was not enjoying this conversation. The mention of her recently murdered neighbor, a man not much older than herself, only added to her unease. She wanted to walk out of the room, but could think of no immediate reason to carry her from the place. "And how did this poor fellow come to be murdered?" William prompted, noting Jenny's maintained agitation. "He was killed by one of his slaves." Durand explained, his tone flat. William nodded. "A theme not uncommon to the trade." "Oui...but this man was uncommonly kind to his slaves." Durand returned, then repeated, "Uncommonly kind." No one responded to this, so Durand continued. "The slave was hanged of course." "Of course." William replied, though his tone was not so casual. His eyes had narrowed as he said it. Durand did not look up to see this. "I have my suspicions that it was the girl that performed the act." Durand said aloud, almost as an afterthought, before falling silent again. "The girl...Monsieur?" It was Dorian's turn to prompt Durand, who had begun another quiet calculation in his head. "Oui." he said after a time. "This girl. This slave girl...sister to him that was hanged...she has been missing ever since the night of the murder, gone to places unknown. The hanged man remained...asleep in his bed I am told." "Perhaps to assuage the appearance of guilt." William offered. "He waz found with the weapon, Capitaine." "Then, he might have done so t' save th' sister." Dorian said, then he sent Jenny out to fetch some tea aft from the galley. She went out gratefully, though not outwardly so. "Perhaps, Capitaine. Perhaps." Durand agreed, though his 'perhaps' sounded doubtful. Then the conversation about William's guest came full circle. This eighth woman, Capitaine..." "Monsieur?" "This errchin. She would not be a slave girl, would she Capitaine?" "I keep no slaves aboard the 'Dog, Monsieur, and besides, she is too pale a girl to be the one in question." "I would see this for myself, of course." "But of course, Monsieur." William agreed.

Speaking of pudding, how about a nice steamed pudding...?

Let's roll out a barrel or two. And tonight, Indian food...