William Brand

August 1, 1704 - Galley of the Watch Dog Lazarus Gage sat on an overturned bucket scrubbing out a large cook pot made of heavy copper. His shirt sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hair was tucked back under a ratty monmouth cap of a weathered, unremarkable color. He was dressed in his working clothes, head to toe, covered over with an apron that had seen as much service as an barber surgeon's might have seen. It was stained over with the blood of a hundred meals fought and won, and while Murin, and even Constance had offered to make him a new one, Lazarus had refused. The stains betrayed his service and loyalty to the 'Dog and he could not think of a new one until this apron was worn past use. At his feet sat the vivacious, young Jean Dorleac bordered on two sides by his contemporaries and charges, Pierre St-Germain and James Standiford. Lazarus was regaling them with the particularly harrowing tale of the Warrington Hart and the storm in which it had floundered. He had not felt like talking about the 'Hart, especially since returning from Meg's company, but Jean had warmed him to the tale by a sheer force of will heavily laced with nagging. Now, with an audience of avid listeners, Lazarus could do no less than pour out every harsh and gory detail to the delight and fascination of the young lads. They listened with wide smiles and sometimes wider eyes as Lazarus described how the Warrington Hart had listed forward and to port during her final death throws. They gaped as the ship's cook described how humanity had dissolved in those final moments. How even the First Mate of that fated merchant vessel had cried like a child when all hope was gone. How the carpenter, brave to the last, had gone below with two able seamen to rescue what was already lost. "He went below?" Jean asked, staring. "Even then...?" Jonathan Hawks, who had appeared at the galley door half way through the tale, nodded and said, "History is replete with tales of carpenters laying down there lives." Lazarus smiled a knowing smile at this and then wondered if the ship's blacksmith had meant for this to sound allegorical. He chose to believe so as he set aside the pot to fetch food for Mister Hawks. "Is tha' all of the story...?" Young Standiford pressed, and there was a certain hunger in his voice. Jean elbowed him. "All for now." Lazarus returned. "Now off with ya. Work to be done while we live." ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

I recently asked Harry to photograph the tools of the blacksmith shop and it appears that working tools are a little on the lean side. If anyone has any tongs or hammers that they can donate, along with any other metal scraps and various tools, please bring them along to the festival.

A nice vintage port may be in order...

Very nice. Well worth the effort to dine in style.

August 1, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal William departed the Heron at four bells of the First Watch, crossing to the Watch Dog in short order, and found upon arrival there, that he was too tired to sleep. Too many thoughts rolled about in his head. Too many ideas hemmed in by doubt or expectation. He made himself known to Tudor when he arrived, relieving her of the deck. Then he went aft and up to the quarterdeck and stood awhile at the helm, watching all of the other ships at anchor on the dark bay. On Martinique Meanwhile, equally tired, but also awake, the wounded and threadbare Tawny made his way along a cart road on the Eastern side of the island. He had travelled all of the previous morning and all of the afternoon and evening in wide arcs, hoping to discover what had become of the boy. His need to rediscover Adebanke was absolute, obsession notwithstanding, for if 'the boy', as he thought of her, were to escape his clutches, then Tawny might become the hunted and he preferred the self proclaimed role of predator. Tawny was almost past the point of collapse when he came across something which stirred his instincts more than his intellect. He walked back and forth across a line of cart tracks running along the road trying to decide which way that they had come from. He was so weary that it did not occur to him to check the direction of the horse hooves which had proceeded it. Instead, he noted how the clay had been pressed away by the cart wheels, and on this and this alone, he chose to march Southward, hoping his reunion with the once captive boy would be a warm one. He was soon rewarded by the sound of domesticated animals and dogs just one generation removed from domestication and the wild. Like Tawny, they were part of civilization, but only as a matter of course. They barked as Tawny approached, for they recognized him for what he was. He slew the first dog as easily as one might squash a bug or close a door. One moment he was walking up to it as it warned him off with growls and spit, and the next he was on the animal as it realized too late that Tawny was the larger predator. The more aggressive omnivore. He twisted its head so far around that he broke its neck not in one place, but several. This put the second dog in a frenzy, but Tawny dispatched it with a well aimed hayfork. A face appeared at a nearby window moments later accompanied by a shrill voice which told the dogs to 'still their gobs'. Tawny enjoyed hearing this and smiled to himself in the dark of the stables. A shadow among the shadows. When the figure was gone again, he familiarized himself with the contents of several outbuildings. Most of them were empty but for grain and a few unremarkable tools, but the last came with implements of various obvious purposes which might be misused. He was particularly delighted to find a machete and a devilish looking hooked knife, perhaps meant for grapes that would never grow well in this place. Out in the night, another dog barked. "Tawny hates dogs, he does. Hates 'em." he murmured as he armed himself.

Today's special is grilled Mahi Mahi over a bed of rice topped with grilled mango and pineapple...

I'll take a needle case to start.

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Heron "I'll see Cuylemburch sent over with the recruits in the morning. I should think him a better cook than any that might be improving." William chuckled softly. Dorian finished setting up the small, round pieces on the checkerboard face of the box and gestured to William to make the first move, which he did without much thought. He did however press forward on the subject of crew members. "I have an odd number of lads for fetching powder. Seven to your...three?" "Aye." Dorian agreed. "I have Patrick, Liam and Hindrik." "I'll speak with Petee and see which one of the boys I can send over with the cook." "Thank you." "You'll tell me of course, if you need some particular tradesman before I go again to the fort." William said, then added. "I found a carpenter turned captain in that lot I brought over today. A Mister Jonah Greene. A very capital fellow." "Jonah." Dorian mused aloud. William said nothing. "A carpenter, you say...? Very good." "Aye. William said even as Dorian took the first of William's pieces. "I may keep him aboard the 'Dog and let you have our Mister Wenge for the Heron, as he knows the cutter already." "Aye." Dorian returned and they traded conversation and draughts for half an hour. The conversation slowed as the pieces vanished from the board, each man focusing more on the game than the company. Both of them grew quieter and the pauses between plays grew longer as the game played out. Finally, in an act of self assured victory, William jumped several of Dorian's pieces, only to realize with a sudden dawning sheepishness, and no small amount of disappointed cursing, that he had lost the game. He had failed to calculate the placement of all the pieces still in play.

Oh very nice work. I've been hoping someone would take this sort of thing up.

William shook his head. "I haven't played backgammon for some six or seven years at least, and to be perfectly honest, I never cared much for draughts. I thought...perhaps it would see more use aboard the Heron. Also..." William stopped. Dorian was still looking at William as if waiting for a choice of games. William smiled, resigned. "Draughts." Dorian began setting up the pieces while William made conversation. "How is Miss Moore?" Dorian shrugged. "Improving..." "Improving...? That won't do. I could send over Tjaak Cuylemburch. He was a cook before we made him a seaman."

You can fill out a form upon arrival.

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Heron "I will go ashore, there to collect some thirty more men at least. I must also see the remainder of the Ilex fortune brought to market." Dorian shook his head and William guessed at his thoughts, for they seemed to be gathering shares daily of late. Then William began fishing in his pocket for the small box he had brought over from the Watch Dog. Once found, he laid it upon the table, still wrapped in the piece of old linen it had been stored in for many years. "What's this?" Dorian asked. "A little something I've carried about these many years." William replied, and when Dorian simply raised an eyebrow, William pushed it closer to him. "I want you to have it." Dorian set down the glass with a mixed expression. Part reluctance. Part curiosity. "You shouldn't have." he said even as he reached for it. "I should have before now." William corrected. Three bells of First Watch ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

The absolute cut off time is ten minutes before the whole event ends. If you can come down for half, a third or even a tenth of the event, we'd love to see you there.

I believe they took payment there last time, so just have cash in hand. Gold. Silver. What have you.

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Heron William made his way aft and refused the formality of being announced to Captain Lasseter. This refusal came in the form of a dismissive sound and a wave of the hand as he proceeded to the ward room of the Heron. A small knock out of respect and a call from beyond were the least of the formalities exchanged between William and Dorian before they were behind closed doors again. "I come bearing gifts." William announced as he shed his oilskins. "More gifts...?" Dorian returned, gesturing to the shares still waiting to be handed out to men ashore while he passed a glass to William with his other hand. "More." William assured him, and the two men took a seat at the modest table. William fished into several pockets before finding a folded paper. He took it out and checked the contents of it before handing it to Dorian. "You'll see some nine men there...recently of the Fort Royal prison." Dorian perused the list with a definitive 'Ahhh' and asked, "Any craftsman 'mong this lot?" "Aye". William returned. "Kine...he's a tinsmith of some experience. Dyer can shoot, if he is to be believed. And...Brenton Coles has...varied experience. I believe he said he was a glazier in a former life, though he is more the sailor now." "Able seamen, all?" Dorian asked. "Every one." William said, nodding. He drank down half the glass at a go and added, "I have already added to my starboard and larboard crews, but I'll keep those nine there a day longer if you would rather see them brought aboard by daylight."

The best of luck to you in your interview. You may remind them that in addition to your talents as a salesperson, you once took a Dutch fluyt with very few losses.

I was a member of the less well known Danish Inquisition. Updates... Harry has purchased coal for the event, and from what I understand, we'll have plenty and then some. I asked him to photograph the available tools for the forge, i.e., hammers, tongs, etc. He promised to take a picture of them soon so that we may evaluate what the forge needs. Also, he is currently trying to arrange a sponsor for shuttle busses to bring people and pirates to and from the fort. More to follow on that as it develops. And last, but not least, they will be having the pig roast at the fort again this year which will take place on Sunday. The pig will be set off with gun powder as before. Cost for the meal at the fort will be $5.00 a head. You don't want to miss this.

August 1, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal William called for Claude Marchande and Jacobus Casteel to meet with him amidships. They stood together under the weak rainfall in a quiet conference. William passed each of them coin, which drew the attention of some on deck, for Cobus was not privy to shares from any previous prizes and Claude had already received what was owed him. Still, William kept his voice pitched low as he talked to the two men. He removed several folded letters from the pockets of his coat and passed them over to the Dutch and French seamen. They tucked them quickly away, all the while answering what questions were put to them with mere nods and William was a long time in congress with them while Tudor saw that the long boat was swung out. Luigi, Teeke Ranst, Drewes Viervant and the new recruit, Brenton Lund, were sent over to man the oars of St. Kitt and they were soon joined by Claude, Cobus and the Captain. The seven men crossed over to the Heron, and with the rain abating, the longboat slipped across the dark water between the two ships with greater ease. It was a short voyage of mere minutes, but William still had time to ponder on those subjects which pressed upon him as Captain. He watched the shoreline much more than the cutter. "Ahoy the Heron!" he eventually called, when prudence dictated that he do so, and answering calls passed back and forth between them as they made their approach. As they tied up to the Heron's anchor cable, William instructed Luigi to have Claude and Cobus rowed ashore and told him not to press the two men on the matter assigned to them, for the nature of their errand was to be kept a secret for the present. Luigi returned a quiet salute and an 'Aye-Aye' as William went up to the Heron's weatherdecks. Then the longboat crew made their way to shore. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

Oh I do. I'd much rather have the lace.

Is it made of hemp...?

I've taken the plunge. Hemp canvas for slops and breeches. A deep golden wool for my waistcoat. A dark brown for my frock coat. Linen for lining. Time is short.

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Dog Alan Woodington arrived and departed, coin in hand, and the last of the Larboard Watch was paid, but for Mister Pew ashore. William placed the ledger and the remaining shares in the strongbox and cleared the table of parchment and quills. He ate what food remained in the quiet of the Ward Room before gathering his oilskins again. Then, as he was about to return to the weatherdecks, he turned back again to search the stern bench. He rifled through charts, bottles, bags and small parcels until he found the small, wrapped box he was looking for. He tucked it into a pocket of the great coat and went up to the quarterdeck. Tudor Smith was there, standing where the quarterdeck met the poop deck. She knuckled off a salute and he called for a report. "Storm appears to be abating, Captain. The recruits are settling in below and Mister Franklin is gone ashore by way of the Heron. He has Kampaert, Tuygertgen and the Russian with him." "Very good, Miss Smith. Have the longboat swung out. I'm bound for the Heron." "Aye, sah." Two bells of First Watch ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

Tonight's special is spiral cut ham with rice and beans...

"Argus may remain, but the trial remains. If he should not learn to keep his bark I shall send him ashore. I'll not have him give warning to our enemies at sea. I'll not permit him to wake those who sleep in turn after a day's work. And I won't abide a din from him when so many others keep their tongues." "I understand, sah. I'll make him a quiet dog." "Then we have an accord, Miss Tribbiani. Take the plate and send in the next sailor." "I will, sah. Thank you sah." She gathered up the plate and made to leave. As she was passing out through the door he added, "Please see to it that Mister Argus is introduced to the rats aboard."

August 1, 1704 - Ward Room of the Watch Dog "I cannot imagine a cross being amiss in Catholic Martinique, but that aside, my concern for Argus is this...he will soon grow to such a size as to rival Manus or Robert. He will not gladly except hard tack and a rum ration. He will likely eat much more flesh than anyone aboard and consume more in fresh water than we can reasonably afford. In short, he will cost us, perhaps dearly." "I understand, sah...I" William waved her off. "I just need to be sure that you can except the finer points of Argus being at sea if we should find ourselves adrift in...desperate choices." "I think so, sah." "Argus would become less important then, except perhaps as food." she didn't say anything to this. What could anyone say? It was the sobering realism of a life at sea, where water and food or the lack of either could make the future beautiful and unchartered, or horrible. "If I may amend my suggestion regarding your shares..." "Of course, sah." "Consider the purchase of some additional stores. A goat perhaps. Chickens. Supplies against that unexpected day." ~Larboard Watches on Duty~