William Brand

August 2, 1704 - At the Heron "I did not send her over." This was all that William said for the moment, though he looked equally surprised that she should be on the Heron, having already sought sanctuary aboard the Watch Dog. His brow furrowed and he searched the dead man once more. This search yielded no additional evidence to the man's purpose. The man himself was rather plainly dressed, but not so plain that he might have been a man of some worth about in clothes for the working day. He was some several days unshaven, but this might served to demonstrate nothing for he might have been on the hunt for some time or in the habit of less grooming. His hat was in good shape as hats often were if well cared for. In the end there was no clue strong enough to denote anything apart from the fact that he had fired upon the Heron or the Samson. "She was injured...?" William asked, returning suddenly to the subject of Miss Ashcombe. "Appears t' have fallen." William plucked up the musket which was also of French make. It was a good looking weapon. Well cared for. Clean. He sited down the barrel and passed it to Dorian and said, "Suicide." "Aye." Dorian agreed, looking about the bay and the many onlookers, for the man had fired with no thought for his immediate neighbors, nor had the man considered cover enough for his own safety. "Daylight in 'n open boat..." William nodded and then shook his head at the fallen assassin, if assassin is what he was. "He'd have had little cover even in the dark." "Revenge...?" Dorian offered. "Perhaps." William wondered aloud. "But against whom?" They called for those that had been in the Jollywatt, almost at the same time. Every man who had been aboard the Samson was asked to look at the body and answer to his identity. Not one man who had come over or any other person aboard the Heron could say that they knew the man or had ever seen him. Luc was questioned several times, having come nearest to meeting his end, but Luc could only say that he 'couldn't say' whether he had been the intended target or no. By now enough time had elapsed that a boat from Fort Royal was inbound. "Damn and Hell together." William muttered. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

I would recommend either Pirates in Paradise or any of the Lockhouse events, but if their tastes are more "piratey" than history, then perhaps even Piratecon would serve. Still, you did say reenactor, so I stick by my first two suggestions.

August 2, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal Three Bells of the Afternoon Watch "Ahoy the Heron!" William called and he was soundly answered as he made his approach. Eric Franklin raised his hat in the air from the rails of the Watch Dog and William made his intentions to go aboard the Heron known at a distance with a gesture in the cutter's general direction. "Wot news, Captain?" Dorian shouted from the Heron, but William was close enough by then that the news was as plain to him as any other man, despite the great many questions that could not be answered. "I have none, but this corpse." William returned, looking perplexed and not a little angry. "I had thought to ask you the same." The boats were all near enough now that several of them tied up alongside the Heron. William stepped from one small boat to the other and bent over the fallen man even as he ordered the remaining men meant for the frigate sent onward to the 'Dog. The dead man was shot some six times. Three musket balls had found almost the same target right above his heart, a testament to the firing drills conducted by Pew, Eric and even Bill. One ball had passed through the man's left eye and the remaining two had struck him in the guts. "And who are you, sah...?" William asked the cooling corpse. Dorian was making his way down the side of the Heron. "Who is he?" William shook his head, but said, "French, by the look of the garments." This conclusion was of course ambiguous, being too obvious to be conclusive. Martinique was French and any man there might have such clothing, French or not. In fact, many of the men on the frigate and cutter did have such clothing. Still, William saw no reason to reason it out any other way, for as they searched the body they found French coin, a French pistol, and all manner of minor clues of the same national origin. "This is an ill omen." William said just loud enough that only Dorian might here it. "What the devil happened?"

The fort does provide firewood.

Gravy...I think I'll stay the night.

Choking down bad prose.

August 2, 1704 William tried his best to discern what had happened on the Cul du Sac Royal. The distance between the docks and the Heron was not significant, but it took some time to arrive there. Too much time in William's estimation, though it was not so many real minutes. As the boat crossed the distance a bell began to ring from the promontory where Fort Royal lay. It was the precautionary alarm of a Fort always on the watch for troubles and additional bells of urgency sounded from the various ships about the bay as crews of merchants, frigates and small boats all craned their necks to see what had happened there. "Good gods." William thought, and it vexed him that he would most likely stand face to face with officials from Martinque before the day was over. "What bloody fool would shoot at the Heron in broad daylight?" he wondered, for a dozen ships or more lay upon the water at anchor, everyone of them armed with guns great and small. Many boats were now rowing towards a seemingly empty boat adrift on the water. As they approached they could see that men of the Heron, Navarra and men which William did not recognize were all crowding about the unkown boat. A man from the Navarra's cutter stepped into it to investigate the body there even as men from the Watch Dog arrived. Conversation flew between the many boats as they gathered and it was learned that a single man, acting alone, had fired upon the Heron for reasons unknown. William looked beyond the boat to see what might be taking place at the Heron. It was obvious, even from this distance, that someone had fallen or been shot in a small boat from the Watch Dog. The Heron's crew were all gathered at the rails and even Dorian had arrived there, glass in hand. William could just make out Luc and the Dutchman, Scymmelpenninck, but few else. "Damn." William cursed and then he shouted out a flurry of orders. "Lash that boat there and tow it to the Heron!" he called, and a man of the Navarra made as if to protest, but William cut him off before he could offer any. "Off with you!" he called, and strangely enough, the men departed the boat at once, returning to his own. His orders obeyed, William, the recruits and the corpse laden boat made their way to the Heron.

August 2, 1704 - The Cul du Sac Royal Two Bells of the Afternoon Watch As before, William purchased the necessary extras for the recruits, and this time with greater ease and speed, so that he was finished with that business by one of the afternoon. This freed him up to pursue other matters, and following his own advice, he took two of the new recruits with him as additional protection while ashore, sending the remaining men back to the Watch Dog. His two chosen man for the afternoon were Mathew Campion and Benjamin Quigley. They were very different men by all examinations, but they had seemed most suitable for his purposes. Mathew had a bearing about him that was strong socially, while Benjamin's strength was made more apparent by the gruff and natural way he sized up everyone who passed him. It was like traveling in the company of two very different, but effective dogs. Traveling together they had just turned away from the docks bound for points inland when the echo of many discharged arms carried over the water to the piers and small boats tied up along the shore. An unusual pause followed as most of the men and women along the docks stopped their labors to look out over the Cul du Sac Royal. Most of them shielded their eyes, for the sun was high and the water bright. At first, William cursed not to have his glass with him, but when he saw the light puffs of smoke from the Heron, Watch Dog and even a third ship anchored hard by, he changed his mind at once about his errands and put into one of the longboats bound for the 'Dog.

See it with friends.

Damien Thomas as Don Alfonso Felipe de la Torre...oh man. I would kill for his wardrobe from that film.

August 2, 1704 First Bell of the Afternoon Watch Louis Morrell, Nathan Bly, Robert Elmer and Andrew Light had been given the quiet and irregular duty of manning the longboat ashore during the duties of the Starboard Watches. Having ferried the Larboard crews ashore for leave, the men had taken to trading rounds at draughts. The day was pleasant enough for shore duty and the four men had already settled into the boredom of the day when Captain Brand arrived with a surprising number of new recruits in new shirts, shoes and slops. William Brand arrived in an attitude of pure business, ordering out the longboat and renting another to ferry over those recruits bound for the Heron. With the two boats he sent Stephen Hudless, George Cosset, Samuel Milling, Nicholas Trodd, Peter Norman, Charles Goddon, John Kingsman, William DeWitt, Logan Christie, Charlie Marsh, Thomas Ried, Schuyler Janszoon, Joseph Aretineson, Valentine Duvale, Roger Reeves, Caleb Millett and John Van Baerle, all bound for service aboard the faster vessel. Of these, Joseph Aretineson looked the most grateful to be assigned to the Cutter, not because he had ever served aboard her, but because he had once dined at table with Dorian Lasseter and he had found the man both companionable and capable as an officer. With this accomplished, William and Pascal brought the remaining men down the docks to buy hammocks for them and those men already bound for the Heron. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

It is always nice to see the various weapons hand made by individuals. I'm craving a good cutlass now.

Actually, someone linked that cartoon once before and the comparrison was made then as well.

Bo, my fellow brother in bacon, any Baconfest where you can recruit two Conservation Deptartment agents while they are just driving by should be considered a resounding success. A very good first year turnout. I believe you had as many in attendance as we did our first year. Perhaps more. I'll have to dig out the old records.

Not feeling well. Woken by my son. Sitting here at the computer and watching Braveheart at 5:00 in the morning. That's two bells of the Morning Watch for you kiddies at home.

Niiiice. You scallywags...

So my wife calls me from work and says that coworker just found a kitten in the Sam's Club parking lot and wants to know if we want to give it a home. Now, we already have two cats, so I'm hesitant to say yes, because I don't want to graduate to crazy cat people. Still, I tell her to bring the little mammal by and I'll see what I think. I'm an idiot. Kittens are evil fluff-balls of unholy cuteness. When did I become such a sucker? Anyway...long story short. I am officially a crazy cat person. Pyracy...meet Sam from the Sam's Club parking lot.

I'm albino pig man...?

I'll buy them all, provided that you break them in really good. I'll buy them in about eight or nine years.

August 2, 1704 - Villa de Corneille The Villa de Corneille had been very quiet since the earliest hours of the day. It was not a true village of course, being comprised of so few buildings and even fewer families, but it had been called the Village of Crows ever since a strange blight of birds had descended upon the place just a few years previous. These birds had arrived with an eccentric fellow who had kept them as pets. They were in fact not crows at all, but African ravens, and these corvids had escaped into the wild until finding themselves quite comfortable at the farms which now bore their misrepresented, collective name. One of the ravens had died, but not before fathering a few additional young rapscallions which had bothered the locals for years afterwards. The only original of the two was still there and ofttimes seen in the area, or at the very least, heard. Of the two original birds, the remaining raven was the loudest and everyone referred to it as the Blasphème de Saint. Saint Blasphemy. In addition to being quite eccentric, the man which had owned the birds had been no lover of the Church and had discussed his hatred for all things sacred on a daily basis with his pets. As a consequence, one of the ravens had decided to take on the task, nay, the inheritance, even the very cause of her master. She would fly from rooftop to rooftop spouting what can only be described as the finest diatribe of foul language ever devised by man, or in this case, bird. It was on this particular quiet morning that Blasphème de Saint found herself circling about one of the outbuildings. The sermon she had chosen for that particular morning touched on the subject of chastity and the Pope's male anatomy in particular. She was waxing quite eloquent, when she stopped all at once. A man had entered the large, open yard of one of the more modest houses. He was rather a plain man, and even from a bird's perspective he was not very interesting. His features and bearing meant little to the cussing bird, but he carried a large, vicious looking weapon in one hand and the sun had caught upon it. Ravens, no matter their religious views, are easily distracted by shiny things. Much like pirates. This bird was no exception. Tawny smiled at the bird and it was a genuine smile, even for Tawny. He had been most alarmed to hear someone on the lane, especially someone with such outrageous language and outspoken views regarding the Good Book. His French was poor to be sure, but even he could recognize profanity in several languages, so he had rushed to the nearest window expecting to find a drunkard screaming on the lawn, but when he saw the bird, he came out into the sparse sun and stood awhile watching it as it watched them. "G' on." Tawny urged, anxious to see what revelations might usher forth from the unexpected blasphemer. The bird said nothing. "Don' min' me. Just butch'rin'." Tawny said as casually as any real market street butcher might have admitted. The bird said nothing. No matter how Tawny tried to coax it again to sermons it would not make a sound. Instead, it flew away and Tawny went back inside. The Villa de Corneille was very quiet, as it had been since the earliest hours of the day. It would remain so. Only birds, and some would say ghosts, would be heard in the place thereafter.

I hate you and love you. Trust me. It's a compliment.

Death, Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse Mad Scientist The Scarecrow Pirate Viking Dinosaur Voodoo Doctor S.W.A.T. My scarecrow costume... And the same costume with fear gas induced FEEEEEAAAAAARRR!

Awwww...flattery will get you...well...another round of bacon.

Ahhh, excellent. I can't wait to hear from the others about their experience. Here is a photo of us in the Tavern. All 46 attendees... I explain the finer points of Baconfest... And later, Mike explains the finer points of fencing...

Yes. Yes I will. The nice thing about being the host of the Baconfest is having so many wonderful leftovers. People leave whole bacon pies and no small amount of appetizers. I'm still eating bacon.