William Brand

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.

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Heron "They've taken him away..." William began. "...this assassin. This solitary fool. They've taken him ashore. A French Lieutenant, name of Turcotte was here. He has gone with the body and the boat which bore it, and I fear he will return with papers granting him permission to search the Heron. You can't have thought that I was so remiss in leaving you aboard the Watch Dog if any true danger existed? Merchants tha..." William waved a dismissive hand at this unfinished thought, squinting into the bright sun coming through the stern windows. "He'll come again, this Turcotte. Of that I am certain...and where shall we send you next, what with so many neighboring and distant eyes upon us?" William allowed a pause for her to answer, but then took it back all at once. "Captain, I leave you to your patient. I must go and secure some safeguards for her protection." He left the room and his departure was abrupt.

William's face altered only slightly, turning from one of checked anger to irritated surprise. "The auction of the Maastricht goods is to take place amidships and no merchant coming aboard the 'Dog will be given the freedom to explore the 'Dog unchecked. My marines are most studious in their office and they guard the frigate jealously, a point recently affirmed in their wanton attack on your attacker."

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Heron Luc Otkupschikov, finding himself not needed as the minutes past was obliged to leave, but William called him back just outside the Ward Room. "Mister Otkupschikov, a word if you please." William stood at the door for a moment, and in that moment he said nothing at all, as if distracted by too many matters at once. Then he looked up and said, "My many thanks for your forthrightness in all the matters put to you during questioning." "Of course, sah." Luc returned soberly. "And my added gratitude for your propriety as touching Miss Ashcombe." William added. "It seemed...proper, Sah." "I would , however, like to know why it that Miss Ashcombe finds herself aboard the Heron." William's tone was neutral, but Luc had known his share of men and there was no mistaking William's mood at present. Still, Luc felt that he had no need to worry on the matter. "Her request, Sah." "Thank you, Mister Otkupschikov. Please wait for me amidships." "Da...Aye, Sah." Luc knuckled off a salute then added. "Sah...there is another matter." William raised a solitary eyebrow and Luc decided to keep the news of brawling recruits for another time. "Nothing, sah. It will...keep." William only nodded and entered the room once more. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

August 2, 1704 "No." William said flatly. He turned to look at Luc and his demeanor was not friendly, though his present mood had little to do with Luc at all. He was simply in a bad mood and wearing the face of the passive, stony and removed captain that he often reserved for times when his mood was foul, but controlled. He stood apart from the others with his hat off at his side. Quiet. Distant. Being Russian, Luc was not unfamiliar with such stoniness, so he kept his peace and remained...available. William turned his attention back to Miss Ashcombe, but his expression never changed. He watched as Dorian poured a dram of something dark. He watched as Dorian fetched it to the wounded woman. He watched as she attempted the strong drink, but his mind was everywhere but here. It was with the new recruits who had been introduced with haste, rather than care. It was with Turcotte as he climbed the hill to Fort Royal. His thoughts were on the merchants who would be aboard the Watch Dog within hours. His mind dwelt on assassins past and present. They were by themselves all minor things, but they added up into one foul mood just the same. He couldn't help it. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

A very good choice, sah. May I present our shrimp, lobster, scallop skewers...

August 2, 1704 To say that Leftenant Raul Turcotte was not pleased would have understated his rage to a fault. He was feeling as murderous now as the dead man in tow might have felt just an hour previous. He could not stomach correction from anyone, but to be so treated by privateers was unforgivable. He fumed and it took him the better part of the distance from the Heron to shore to calm himself. He did this by counting backwards in three languages. Quirion Charron rowed silently all the way to shore. He could see that any interruption in the Lieutenant's 'counting' might be too much for the young hothead, so he kept his peace. He admired the young officer, despite his inexperience, for the lad was often taking on the worst of duties for the sake of advancement at all costs. Quirion did not respect him for this alone, but this willingness to do all had placed the Lieutenant in several situations beyond his years and he had risen to almost every task, this most recent notwithstanding. The boat made landfall and Turcotte exited so fast that Quirion had to call him back. "Pardonnez-moi, lieutenant!" Turcotte turned about impatiently. "Bring the body and yourselves" he spat in French. The counting had not worked well. "But, Lieutenant...there was blood in the boat." "Don't be absurd!" Turcotte hissed. "There would of course be blood." "This blood was in their boat, Lieutenant." Turcotte sobered and a smile slowly returned to his face. It seemed that he wasn't the only man looking for advancement. "Merci, Charron. You are a thorough man." Before four bells of the Afternoon Watch ~Starboard Watch on Duty~

August 2, 1704 - At the Heron "Capitaine William Brand." William said, rather formally. "C'est capitaine Lasseter." This small introduction shifted the positions of society only ever so slightly, for neither Dorian or William were captains of any navy but their own. Still, it had the desired effect for the lieutenant was forced to begin again. "Pardon, Capitaine. Capitaine." the young man returned, removing his hat to both. "Mes supérieurs souhaitent savoir ce qui continue ici." "Vous pardonnez, Sah... mais mon Français est...pauvre. Peut-être nous...pouvons converser en anglais...?" William said, his most polite and apologetic smile shining. Dorian tried not to smile anymore than was necessary, for William had deliberately stalled the question a second time and only Dorian seemed to understand the obvious tack in choosing one language over another. William had enough French of his own to make conversation and translators a plenty, but he called on none of these. Lieutenant Turcotte was suddenly placed at the disadvantage, for English was not his strong suit, but the young man smiled wanly and continued. "But oov course, Monsieur." Turcotte agreed. "Now, if you..." "Captain." William corrected, and Dorian had to turn away ever so slightly. The Lieutenant did not smile, nor did he correct himself this time. He simply narrowed is eyes but a little and William saw the man that would some day overtake the boy before him. "I em charged to learn what has gone on 'ere, Captaine." "I have only just arrived myself, Lieutenant Turcotte, but Captain Lasseter informs me that this man here fired upon his crew without provocation...and being fired upon they were obliged to answer with force. We have searched him and found little coin and no papers. He is, as you see, quite dead from several shots fired from the Heron here and the Watch Dog over there...the Watch Dog being allied to this ship. Captain Lasseter and I have questioned all aboard the Heron and can find no one who can say who this man is or from where he hails." This statement was not entirely true, for William had not yet questioned Miss Ashcombe, a task he meant to perform at the earliest convenience, but as it might prove awkward at present, he let it slip and made no mention of it to Turcotte. He wasn't of the mind that Jenny was involved in the matter, in fact the idea was far from him, but he was not about to let the French question anyone in his charge before he himself had done so. Lieutenant Turcotte stood a moment looking between the two captains. He did not seem to know where to go with this, so he invited one of his own to search the body as well. William made a point then of passing what few personal effects had been discovered on the man to Turcotte. He also gave him the coin. Lieutenant Turcotte held out his hand for the musket as well, and as Dorian had already had the presence of mind to make a rubbing of the maker's mark during the previous questioning, he made no effort to retain the unremarkable firearm. He simply passed it over to Turcotte without a word. Turcotte examined the effects while his man searched the body with an attention to details. The man was thorough. He found not one additional clue to the shooter's identity, but two, though the clues were not of great worth. The first was a name stitched inside the man's coat, which would later prove to be little more than a tailor's mark. A poor tailor's pride in an unremarkable garment. The second clue was only slightly more revealing. The inside lid of the cartridge box worn at the dead man's belt bore the initials 'H.P.' "We now know as much together as any strangers might know." William said plainly. Lieutenant Turcotte seemed unsatisfied on the matter. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~