William Brand

The matter wouldn't bother me so much, but money has been tight, despite some wonderful windfalls of late, and if I got the cheaper rate I could play more. I could buy a weapon. I could ride the Wolf more than once. I could eat out at a few choice places. I could buy a round of drinks for my fellow dogs. Arrr.

Thank you. I'm looking at every option. $384 for ticket to Miami. Airport taxes bring it to $421.59. Advance ticket for Grehound is $54, bringing that trip to $475.59. Blast...for 42.51 more I could fly all the way to Key West. I hate Delta.

In order to save a little money I was planning on using my skymiles to soften the expense of my trip to Key West. My wife and I traveled to the Middle East in June and earned enough miles between us for me to fly for about $160 bucks, the cost and fees for transferring a few thousand sky miles. Begin long road of disappointment. I go to get my ticket, only to discover that we have no credited miles for our trip in June. None. Zip. Zero. I have spent the last three days making nothing but phone calls. I have called some departments enough that I have the number memorized. I now know more about the skymiles program than I ever thought possible. All bad. To add insult to injury, three different agents told me I had the sufficient miles to go, but when I finally got everything fixed, they doubled the miles required. Why? No reason which makes sense. Now If I want to fly out I have to fly out on the 29th and lose the first two whole days of the festival and return three days after it's over, or wait for a seat to open up. The only alternative. Buy a regular ticket for over $500. So, I play the lottery for $160, or pay $350+ for a new ticket after three days of work that was Delta's fault to start with. I'm in a mood.

Halloween! Me and the wife. Our own Charlie Brown. Pumpkins! My brother isn't happy. Charlie Brown fleeing from the fat lady (My Nephew).

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog The jollywatt went out and over the side of the Watch Dog, followed by a crew of rowers. William made one solitary patrol about the weatherdecks, leaving instructions for Tudor as he went. Then he ordered everyone over and down into the waiting small boat, relinquishing command of the frigate to Jacob Badger. Before he could join them, Mister Badger took him aside. "Take the Yoruban, Sah." William looked past Jacob to where Ajayi Abiodun sat at the main mast. The large man looked almost doleful in his boredom. "Captain, 'e's still to wounded too work an' too well to sit about idle. 'e 'as asked after Mister Pew some dozen times. At least in 'is fashion. Why not let 'im go ashore, Cap'n?" William considered the plight of Ajayi. A few days wounded. Idle. Trapped. He nodded and called for the Yoruban. Ajayi jumped up easily enough, demonstrating that he was not bothered by his injuries. William gestured into the boat and Ajayi went over and down at once. William and Jacob exchanged a nod and William joined the crew in the boat, casting off from the frigate. Two bells of the First Dog Watch ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

Robb (Hurricane) sent me an email suggesting that we have all of our registration forms filled out prior to PIP to make the paperwork that much easier on Harry, and it is a good idea. I mentioned it to Captain Sterling, and Sterling has agreed to collect the registration forms for the crew of the Archangel. Anyone else who is heading a crew, please collect the registration forms for your people ahead of time and submit them to the fort. All of you pirates stationed in the careening camp, please send your forms directly to Harry.

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William returned to the weather decks, the Ilex fortune in hand once more. His intentions to see it sold ashore that day were quickly running out with the day. Tudor was bound for the Watch Dog once more and the merchants would follow shortly on her heals. "So much left to do." William said to himself as he looked across the bay to the Navarra. She still lay at anchor, though the activity aboard her was more pronounced today. No word had come from that quarter since the dinner and William was beginning to wonder if his suspicions regarding the merchant ship were accurate. Perhaps Capitán Avendano was hedging his bets and selling some of his cargo at Martinique, rather than risk the journey to Trinidad unguarded. "Do you mean to go ashore, Cap'n?" Mister Badger asked at William's elbow and William nodded. "I have some business there that I hope to do with speed. You shall have the handling of the auction, should I not return before the watch is up. Bring up the Maastricht goods in order as you see fit and be stern on the price. The goods should fetch a high market price and we would be acting fairly to demand such." Jacob nodded. "Aye Cap'n. We'll sell it all away." he said, smiling. "Should be enough t' fill coffers an' innkeeper pockets." "Thank you, Mister Badger." William found himself in good spirits again and perhaps it was the work and the necessaries of his position that made him smile a little. He also laughed inside to know what use the men made of their shares ashore. He went to the rail where Lazarus Gage stood prepared to go ashore. He invited the cook to join him in a boat bound first to the Heron and then St. Louis and Lazarus accepted. He also called for Tjaak Cuylemburch and Geoffery Wayne and those men meant for the Heron that were not already brought there, apart from Roundtree and Sandefur who were still doing nightshirt duty at the bow. Tjaak Cuylemburch was glad of the calling meant for him on the cutter and Geoffery Wayne was glad to be returning to the company of his close friend Patrick Godfrey. Both would miss the 'Dog for it's comforts, but the Heron looked very smart in the light of the waning day. "Have the jollywatt swung out, Mister Badger!" William called. "Aye-Aye!" ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

Emmett Emmett and Samantha

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William went out into the afternoon sun to get some air and to see what business had transpired aboard ship and on the Heron nearby. He could see Turcotte's boat and men departing the Heron, but his immediate attention fell on Meg Wardell. She had come out into the sun and looked much rewarded for the effort. She was standing with her eyes closed at the rail facing West. She looked...relieved. Most of the crew was avoiding her, or at the very least, too occupied to care about her one way or another. The business of the ship was greater than one woman's fears or recovery. Few men or even women aboard could truly sympathize with Meg anyway, for the sea was a hard life and too many of them had seen worse. Some of them much worse. One of these was Owen Monahan. At the ripe old age of seven, Owen had witnessed his first murder, not as a participant, but as a young boy hidden in a pantry cupboard. He had snuck into a bakery to steal something sweet for himself and his baby brother. He had thought the kitchen deserted, for the shop on the front street was busy and the day was well along. A maid or cook in her early teens had come in by the side door, entering the kitchen with several large bags of flour and Owen had hidden in a cupboard to escape detection. While there, a young man not much older than the maid had come into the shop and an argument had ensued. The conversation had been lost on Owen, taking place in German as it had, but in the end the young girl had thrown a bowl of heavy cream in the young man's face, and armed with a rolling pin made of heavy oak, the young man had struck her, dashing her to the floor. Owen had watched all this with an evolution of fear. First worried that he would be caught. Then troubled by the argument. And finally, lost in the confusion of so much blood ushering forth from one young girl. Owen was looking at Meg now trying to understand why some distant part of his memory kept itching. Ever since meeting Meg he had felt this itch, wondering daily what it was. He stood on the fo'c'sle deck nursing the ache in his cut hand in an absent minded way when he suddenly understood. It was something about the belaying pin in Paul Mooney's hand as he stood nearby. It was something about the way the afternoon light struck Meg's face as she turned it to the sun. It was also something about Miss Ashcombe as well, laying in her own blood in the boat earlier that afternoon. All three people had awakened that day buried under fifteen years of Owen's life. A day he thought he had forgotten, and truly had until this moment. William watched this mysterious epiphany from the quarterdeck. He watched as it painted many things on the oft plain canvas of Owen's face. He wanted to go and ask Owen what he was thinking then. He wanted to hear the story behind that waking face. He didn't of course. The man's business was his own, and as a private man himself, William let his eyes fall elsewhere and left Owen and Meg to their personal revelations. Finding all in order, he went below. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog "Lies are sometimes a truth we create for the moment. We want them to be true." William picked up his hat. "I have lied often enough these eight years that I might live them." He walked to the door and stood a moment looking back at her. He replaced his hat and straightened it in place. "Get dressed. You are needed in the galley. Mister Gage should have been ashore hours ago and the fore and aft watches will need feeding." William tipped his hat as he went out. "Miss O'Flaherty." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William's expression changed very little. He thought he had a good idea what Hell was, but he said nothing. He was not rewarded by the discovery before him. In fact, his suspicions had only been mild at best, and he had hoped himself wrong. When he began speaking, his voice was quiet. "The lads will abide a great many things. Storms at sea. Loss of life. The daily threat of a hemp knot caught under their chins..." William paused a moment, then continued. "Dedrick Van Buren served aboard this ship but a month. He gave good service and worked as well as any other seaman aboard the 'Dog. He was not once seen drunk for duty, asleep on watch or missing in time of need. Then a storm blew in and we were three days under rain and wind. We lost two men in the storm. John Sons and Dedrick Van Buren. Sons was not recovered, but Van Buren was plucked from the sea drowned. When we went to dress the lad in his hammock, we found Van Buren the woman, not the lad." William waited for this to sink in a little and continued. "Van Buren had come aboard to learn all she could of me...William Brand. Pirate. Vagabond. Murderer. Van Buren came aboard to sew treachery. She wanted revenge on me for a death I had no part in. She was a month among us as a man. She ate our bread. She drank our rum. She plucked out our secrets. She planned our destruction. She probably killed John Sons and she murdered two men aboard the Danzig Trader. Good men." William removed his hat. He scratched at his temple and smiled an empty smile. "The lads will abide a great many things, but they think none to kindly of one thing pretending to be another. Tell me plain. Who are you?" ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William just looked at the lad a long time, saying nothing at all. He had smiled less as the conversation continued until none was found on his face at all. William stood there, as did Ned. "Are you shy, lad...?" William asked, finally and incredulously. "Mister O'Flaherty, I assure you, I've seen more pizzles flogged about these two days than on a whore's birthday, now off with those tatters." William said impatiently. "The 'Dog is not a counting house. Live here long enough and you'll see every sort of man that God has made and just as he made them. Upright dogs all. Not one of them squeamish enough to hide what he's been given or foolish enough to think his alloted privacy will long escape the notice of the five score men soon to be aboard the 'Dog. Every man has eighteen inches for his hammock and counts himself lucky to be dry...but modest...? No." Still, Ned stood and William shook his head. He placed the shirt back on the pile. "The sea will test a man, young or old, but I'll..." William paused. "I should like to see what modesty you would argue before our Doctor, Mister O'Flaherty, being a woman."

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog "No need for any of that." William assured him, fetching out slops that were almost new, but for a patch over one knee. "Those that give a day's work are given clothes to that end and can expect hot food and a hammock. I'll not see threads in the bread because the galley is filled with ragamuffins. You can show your gratitude in your work and cause for us to keep you aboard. If you decide not to say, the clothes won't go wasted when you leave with them." William lay out the slops and gestured again for the old clothes. "Come on now. A physician I am not, but I've seen scurvy, yellow fever, boils and the black death. I've also read a little Harvey and Boyle so I know a sign or two, so let's have them clothes off and see what sort of sailor we might make of you. I've clothed some sixty men in the last two days." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William was below and forward for a short time, but in that time he collected many items both specific and random. He stuffed all of these into an old snapsack and added to them an ill used sailor's knife discarded among the extra shoes kept in a barrel outside the cable tier. This accomplished, he made his way aft and then up, stopping only to see those recruits who were still stowing their newly acquired gear. He soon arrived on deck and before he could enter the passageway aft, Eric Franklin intercepted him. "Sorry, Sah. French marines on approach." "Now?" William turned that direction and then went to the rail. The French longboat had all but arrived. "They've kept some of theirs aboard the Heron." Eric added, handing over a glass to William, but William refused it. He could see by daylight enough to recognize the color of the uniforms. "That is Lieutenant Turcotte." William explained, gesturing to the man at the head of the longboat. "Ahhh...The Fort Royal Frenchman." Eric shook his head. Mister Badger joined them at the rail even as Turcotte called out to the Watch Dog. "What news, Lieutenant?" William returned. "Capitaine. I must see the boat which was fired upon." Turcotte said, and while his papers lent him no such permission in regard to the Watch Dog, he did not phrase his request in the form of a request. "That would be our jollywatt, The Samson. A moment, sah." William turned to Mister Badger. "What men were they that manned the barge?" he asked, knowing full well who each and every one of them had been. Mister Badger looked about the deck, his eyes resting on several men as he called their names. "Owen there. Henry. Smit." The men began to gather as they were named. "Shall I have her swung out?" William asked, looking down on Turcotte. "No." he said. "I should come aboard, with your permission." "What can you mean to find in the jollywatt, sah?" "My man tells me there was blood, Capitaine." William turned to Mister Badger, who nodded. Jacob explained that there had indeed been blood, but he had seen it washed out already. There had been little of it to speak of and all of it was gone already, washed away with so much water and scrubbing. Turcotte was close enough to hear all of this, so William simply gave him a look as if to say 'What now?', but the Lieutenant was undaunted. "Which man bled, Capitaine?" William looked about as if to ask the men there, knowing full well that Miss Ashcombe had provided the blood in question. He wasn't completely sure what to say on that point, but before he could say aught, Owen Monahan drew out his sailor's knife and cut his own hand at the heel. "Monahan." William said, trying to make this sound like an answer and not surprise, for Owen had wounded himself quite casually. Owen plucked a scarf of plain cloth from Paul Mooney's neck and was wrapping his hand quickly as he crossed to the rail. "I'll see this wound, Capitaine." Turcotte demanded. "Here it is." Owen called as he reached the rail and held out his hand. "Bled some six bandages to death." he said, surly. "Cut meself on a boat hook when a lout knocked me down in the scuffle." William and Turcotte exchanged a look. William's expression was plain. Aloof. Turcotte's face was flat, but dark for such a bright afternoon. The business of Fort Royal had stalled once more. What more could the Lieutenant say or do? All was explained here and on the Heron and yet the mystery remained. The Lieutenant removed his hat in a formal gesture of gratitude and farewell, never smiling once. William sent him on his way with a slight inclination of his head. Then, turning to Owen he said, "You had best get something for that hand, Mister Monahan. An extra ration of rum these three days next should do the trick." Owen smiled his bent and broken smile and William repented a little that he had not liked the man more before now. Eight Bells of the Afternoon Watch First Dog Watch Begins Moments later William entered the surgery. He found Ned standing almost exactly where he had left him. He smiled, friendly enough and placed the snapsack on the surgery table. then he spilled out some of the contents, explaining the benefits of the rag bin aboard the 'Dog. "We keep the old clothes forward for use as work clothes for tarring and pitching. Sometimes the tailor can make new ones from these that were once new. A little needlework and resurrection." William said with a smile. "I'm sorry that you should be aboard so much of the day and kept at work in those rags." He gestured to the clothes which Ned wore and shook his head. Then he held up a shirt and then another until he was satisfied which shirt might best fit the lad. "These will be yours then. We've no tub to speak of aboard the 'Dog, and with the Doctor gone we cannot make an examination of you for lice and fleas, but you seem clean enough for a boy and you may wash when ashore next." William placed the sailor's knife aside and explained that good shoes might be found below when Ned was ready for them. Then he brought the better of the two shirts around to Ned. "Let's have them clothes. We'll see them washed...or even burned if need be." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Meg Wardell was not surprised or alarmed to see Captain Brand come in at the door, but she looked a bit undone to see a stranger standing beyond him and by his request that she surrender the room for the moment. Meg had not left the room for days. Not since Tawny had put the fear of the Devil into her in the darkness of the holds. It had become her sanctuary. Her solace. Her Tomb. "Did you not here me, Miss Wardell? I need the surgery for the moment. You may wait in the passageway if you wish, or even the galley." Meg still didn't move. The idea of facing Lazarus was not an appealing one, though she thought she might have to in time. Meg might have suggested a tactical retreat into the Surgeon's private quarters, but William held the door open and he did not look to be in a bargaining frame of mind. It wasn't that he looked angry or even impatient. Quite the contrary. He looked almost... "What?" she thought. "Mischievous?" That wasn't it entirely. In fact, she was sure that she was quite wrong on this point, but there was something absolute about his body language, so for the first time in days she walked out of the surgery and passing between the two of them as she went. William ushered Ned into the room and was about to speak, but then he paused. "Wait here. I shall be back momentarily." He went to leave, shutting the door as he did so, but then he opened it again. "Don't touch anything." He closed the door. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William finished his work, gathered his coat and hat and went out of the Ward Room into the passageway forward. He passed Dorian's former quarters, wondering how soon they would be occupied again. He passed the private room of the ship's Doctor and wondered, not for the first time, where she might be. These thoughts were on his mind as he passed the open door to the galley and he just chanced to glance in. He saw Ned O'Flaherty bending to pick up a knife that had fallen. William stopped. "No." he thought to himself. "No." He turned his head in the direction of the young thief so recently come aboard. Ned was facing away from him and brushing flour from the overly large apron hung about his neck. It was a simple gesture, no more profound than retrieving the fallen knife, but William couldn't help the smile which spread on his face. "O'Flaherty." He called. Ned jumped just enough to upset some crockery. "I'll see you in the surgery." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Heron Quirion Charron tried in vain to think of some polite, less awkward way to interrupt the Lieutenant, but the young officer was standing quite apart from him and looking murderous again. The venomous look Turcotte had fixed upon him would not make this any easier, but on some level he appreciated the moment, despite the embarrassment it might cause his superior. "Pardonnez-moi, Lieutenant..." He said, stepping forward. "Oui...qu'est-ce que c'est, sergent ?" Turcotte said back through teeth that were barely parted. "Mais ce n'est pas le bateau d'avant." Lieutenant Turcotte flushed a little and turned back to Dorian with a passive look attempting a casualness that failed a little. "Is this not the small boat that was fired upon?" he asked, pointing towards the guard boat. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Heron Lieutenant Turcotte surrendered his papers to Tucker who in turn surrendered them to Captain Lasseter. Turcotte was made to wait in the boat while the two men perused the documents before them. The papers contained several signatures, each of them sufficient to allow the young officer and his men access to the Heron. Still, Dorian was compelled to read them more than once. He did so, not to delay the Lieutenant, but to thoroughly understand what permissions were granted in the letters. Then he invited Turcotte to join him on deck. Lieutenant Turcotte came aboard with as much measured grace and with a casual air of jurisdiction as the document allowed him. He exchanged greetings with both Captain Lasseter and Christopher Tucker. He was neither abrupt or rude, having been sternly cautioned by his superiors not to exaggerate the matter beyond the facts. Their words on the situation were these... "Bring the matter to a quiet close." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

We will be doing a few group meals at the event in the Careening Camp. I'll ask about and we'll get an idea of those who are doing what meals when.

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the 'Dog William was just settling into the Ward Room when a knock came. Patrick Hand put his head in at the door. "Sah, Mister Badger wishes you to know that Captain Lasseter has put a boat in the water armed with marines on patrol." "Thank you Mister Hand." William went about some small bits of business, adding the names of the newest recruits to the Watch Dog. This took him more time than expected, owing to his exactness in penmanship and the order of the ledgers. The task of recording names was almost complete when a second knock came at the door. Patrick Hand appeared once more in the doorway. "Pardon, Sah. There's a boat bound for the Heron loaded with Frenchies of the Fort." "Thank you, Mister Hand. Inform Mister Badger that I will be up presently." Six Bells of the Afternoon Watch ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the 'Dog William arrived aboard the 'Dog in short order. Eric Franklin met him amidships and there followed a brief conversation as William first informed Eric of all that had gone on aboard the cutter and then Eric explained the recent happening aboard the frigate. When Eric and William had both come to an understanding regarding Miss Ashcombe's departure, Eric explained the fight which had broken out between Roundtree, Sandefur, Coles and Leigh. William's mood, which had lifted but a little since returning from the Heron, was nailed down hard and fast once more. "Mister Badger! I want Sandefur and Roundtree in the Ward Room, post haste!" he growled. "Aye, sah. Right away, sa..." "Belay that, Mister Badger." William said, and he marched directly to where Francis Roundtree stood at the Forecastle as Eric followed. William called for James Sandefur to join them there and he did, hat in hand. "Are these the brawlers so recently come aboard, Mister Franklin?" William asked, and he stood so close to Francis that the man leaned back a little. "Aye, Sah, and brothers the both of them." Eric said, scowling at James. "HALF-brothers, Sah." Francis corrected. "HALF-WITS!" William said, correcting Roundtree's correction, his mood returning with force, and whether Roundtree had meant this as an insubordination or not, William was glad to vent some of his recent anger on someone. "Autem-cacklers and ungrateful gutlings!" "Sah..." Roundtree began. "WHAT?" William shouted. "What is it, Missster Roundtree?" "Sah!" Roundtree returned, snapping to attention, his tone repentant. "Think not to correct Mister Franklin in the course of his duties!" William spat. "Shall I have Eric crack you about the noggle to remind you of your place?" "No, sah." Roundtree said, any sign of defiance blasted clean away from his demeanor. "And you, Mister Sandefor?" William said, turning on James so suddenly that he might have fallen over. "Will three days aloft in a nightshirt be enough to satisfy your taste for fists and foolishness?" "Beg pardon, Sah. Won't 'appen again , Sah." William looked at Sandefur a long, long time until he was quite convinced that the man understood his disapproval in full. He did the same to Roundtree. When he was certain that neither man had cause to take him lightly regarding such behavior on the 'Dog, he turned to Eric. "Mister Franklin, set a watch of two men in the spritsail topmast yard." William finished, his tone almost conversational again. "A nightshirt and whistle each." He added. "Aye, Sah." "Think you that you can find two volunteers, Mister Franklin?" William said, narrowing his eyes at the two men before him. "I think so, Sah." Eric said, smiling wickedly. Five bells of the Afternoon Watch ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

In 2005, Mike and Andria left PIP for a few hours to go scuba diving, so even if the event itself were not enough to hold their interest the entire time, they could still find enough to do at Key West. A trip to the Dry Tortugas. A museum or two. A night of wining and dining.

Aye, but of course. When I say asked, I mean asked with money. I've been commissioned to decorate the entire main office from the ground up, so between Tracy's interior design background, my contemporary art experience, a little elbow grease and some old fashioned Feng Shui we're going to make this place a very comfortable working environment.

Aye and thank you. I have been asked to do several more of them for another office. I'm hoping to do several for the halls as well, but we shall see.

My wife's new office with my Prometheus painting as a center piece. Ignore the nuclear winter outside the windows. I want the office. KITTY! And of course, the little lad.