William Brand

Ahhhh...something a little spicy. Excellent.

Two years...? I've heard of stowaways, but two years? Wow. A very belated welcome aboard to you and may you linger awhile above decks.

Maybe for lunch...but I'm talking about a banquet for all of your friends. You need to dig a little deeper and come up with something exotic. Meanwhile, I'll cook up some curly fries.

And what would our birthday girl like to eat for her natal day dinner?

The main problem in celebrating your birthday is deciding whether or not you should be the one to come out of your own cake at the finale.

William Moore. He was made famous as the gunner of William Kidd. William Moore was killed by Kidd during an arguement over a Dutch ship when Kidd struck him with an ironbound bucket, fracturing Moore's skull.

I foresee a lot of mermaid cakes coming out of the kitchen today...

August 1, 1704 - La Cuvette La Cuvette was loud with eating, talking and some singing. Not all of the prisoners were boisterous, but they didn't seem to mind the din. A church was sounding the hour of two o'clock nearby and Louis cleared his throat over the noise. William was watching the men eat, but he turned towards the marine. "Il est deux de l'après-midi, capitaine." William furrowed his brow. "Two of the afternoon...? Oui je sais, Monsieur Morrell." Louis looked at William long and hard and William looked back perplexed. "What am I meant to under....?" William began, then understanding dawned upon him. The Starboard Watches were off duty and William had neglected to release Owen and Louis to whatever revelries they wished ashore. "Ahhhhh...my apologies, Mister Morrell. Of course. Please fetch me some replacements for you and Mister Monahan." "Merci capitaine." the marine said as he made his way out the door and in the direction of the docks. The Jungles of Martinique Elsewhere on the island, another recent prisoner had just reached a clearing in the jungle. She found a well marked cart path and fainted from relief more than fatigue. It was the first true sleep she had known since her abduction. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

William comes in from working all day, gives the clients and cooks a curt nod, goes straight into his room, and collapses into his hammock. ZZZzzzzzzzz...

Actually, if you must know, it is chicken grilled in buttermilk...mmmm.

I confess. I have never seen Dark Shadows. There. I said it.

Tonight's special is this... Does it even matter what is in it...? Look at at it. I need a fork.

I liked the movie well enough the first time I saw it. It wasn't great, but I liked it. Then I made the mistake of watching it again. It's awful. And... ...everything in that movie blew up. Everything. You could upset a tea-cozy and you would be blown to bits.

August 1, 1704 - La Cuvette The new recruits ate the same way as they had stood in the rain. There was a mixture of relish, reverence and some appreciative laughter. Some were solemn. One sailor even said Grace over his food, too grateful not to say it. As for the fare of La Cuvette, it was not impressive, but as advertised, it was hot. The men ate their fill just the same and it took little to fill them. William was mindful to provide them only so much and no more, so that they would not gorge stomachs that had been too long denied the volume of large meals. While most of them ate, a few were just as privileged to bathe in one of La Cuvette's tubs. There were not two, but three baths. They were large, banded, wooden affairs that had seen much use over the years. The tubs stood in one large room and the only privacy afforded to each bather was a hanging, threadbare curtain. Jonah Greene, Robert Tollis and young William Dash drew the first lots for the bath and couldn't have cared less for privacy at that moment. They might have made an afternoon of soaking, but William had told every man in the company that they were allotted only two turns of a three minute glass. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

August 1, 1704 - Martinique Monsieur Dufour was very exacting in his work. He carefully noted the departure of every chosen prisoner. He did not merely cross out the names in the record books of the prison. He made careful notations and copied every name onto a fresh document to be signed by the Commandant and the Particular Governor once William had chosen the last of the lot. William was patient. He understood the necessities of office, and having suffered once before due to a lack of prudence on the part of a clerk, he was willing to see every 't' crossed before they departed. When the time finally came to leave Fort Royal Prison the weather had not abated. In many ways it had dissolved into chaos. The wind was up now and the rain came down at harsh angles. Seeking shelter proved utterly fruitless once outside the prison walls and William simply assured the men that a warm meal and perhaps a bed were waiting for them that night. They pressed on to a clothier that William had seen not far from the docks. He and Louis went in ahead of the others to find a surprised proprietor closing the inside shutter. The man immediately stepped down from the window casement and came over to help the unexpected customers. The man seemed glad that the weather had not kept cliental away, and like the gutters outside, he overspilled and gushed a little. William didn't mind. He could see already see what deals might be made in the shop and the owner was primed for a barter or two. "Tell him that I mean to return in one hour's time to buy clothing for that lot out there." William said, gesturing through the murky windows. Louis explained and the man gushed some more. They left the shop and made there way down a neighboring street to an inn named La Cuvette. The Trough. It was a rude name for an inn, but William had passed the establishment two days prior and had noted the sign which advertised "Bains chauds. Repas chauds." Hot baths. Hot meals. He hoped the term 'baths' meant that the place would house more than one tub, but he thought this might matter little in the end. The place had a spacious look to it and he did not think they would mind the patronage. He was not wrong. His coin proved very welcome indeed. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

August 1, 1704 - Fort Royal Prison William, Louis and Owen stood in a tight circle at the head of the corridor as the men were lined up from their various cells. William questioned Owen and Louis about his decision and the men they were bringing back with them. Louis could find no immediate fault with any of the prisoners, but Owen complained that Robert Hollis smiled too much for his taste. "He smiles more than you, Mister Monahan." William agreed. "Beg pardon, sah, but 'e smiles more 'en three of me." Owen said, wincing a little from his wounds which were far from healed. Despite this, he conceded. "The men seemed good enough for a day's work." William turned again to the former prisoners and invited them to follow him out into the sun, which proved to be utterly hidden and drowned behind a day that was nothing but rain. The deluge soaked almost every man to the bone before they had crossed the courtyard to the offices of the Commandant and his clerks. There was little room for them inside, so the new recruits were made to wait out in the rain. William almost apologized for this, but when he saw how delighted many of them were to stand up straight with their faces turned up to the sky, he checked himself and simply watched. Many of the men laughed and held out grateful hands to the weather. Some sighed the sigh that only other former prisoners can understand. There wasn't a man among the throng that did not delight, or as some did, dance a dance of sorts. They stomped a little in the rain and many seemed glad to have the water on their faces. Godfrey Bicknell stood under a rain spout off of the guard's quarter's roof and let it wash him down thoroughly. William chanced to wonder what a fool he might have looked like to feel rain after such an absence of light and life. Jonah Greene was standing all by himself in an attitude of pure meditation. He looked like a man who had walked out of a pit and shed the weight of some two hundred plus nights in Hell. He shrugged a little in the rain and turned his face up toward the showers and for a time he was nothing but silence and stillness. It took some time to arrive, but a smile of sorts eventually spread across his face. William thought he might understand some of that smile. "Only the English stand in the rain..." Louis observed aloud, but he wasn't really poking fun at the men. It was perfectly understandable that they relished the out of doors. Even the rain, cold and wet, was a change from the damp of the prison. Then William and Louis joined Owen inside to help the clerks tick off the names of the released. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

I'll mention this again since I believe that it needs repeating. The ground is coral with a thin layer of sand, grass and in some cases, loose coral on coral. It can be treacherous ground. It twists ankles and creates opportunities for injury. During my first battle at PIP I crossed the field at a dead run in order to hide along the moat. Just as I reached the moat I lost my footing and crashed. I didn't just trip. I crashed. I wasn't badly hurt, but it twisted my ankle and skinned up my arms a little bit. It isn't the safest open ground to cover in heels and boots, so be mindful of this when you attend. I would recommend that everyone who plans to fight there should walk about the place and get a feel for the footing. My two cents.

Having spoken to Harry on the subject I'll mention two or three things we have discussed. First, everyone who attends must fill out a registration form to be covered by insurance. No form, no fun. Second, everyone who fires black powder weapons must be approved by the fort. Everyone. Some people have been approved multiple times over the years such as Cascabel and Braze, but everyone should attend the safety meetings. We will have more than one of these to cover all the bases and already we have a few volunteers in each encampment to carefully see to it that none of us get killed... ...except the kind of killing that involves staged deaths and long 'last word' speeches in the arms of a comrade on the field. "Farewell cruel world!" and all that. I'm glad that everyone is discussing this here. You can never have enough repetition on the subject of safety. Where safety is concerned it is better to have discusssed it some three dozen times and risk being patronizing rather than miss one important idea or rule.

August 1, 1704 - Fort Royal Prison To say that William smiled would not have done the expression justice. He did smile, but it beamed a little on his face and he looked delighted. "I am in need of those very skills and would gladly have you aboard, Mister Greene. I'll not turn away any tradesmen. We shall see you outfitted for such work. The Watch Dog is possessed of good tools and we took additional mallets, augers and the like from the Maastricht." They conversed a moment on the trade of carpentry and shipwrights. They also spoke of the larch, oak and other woods of the frigate. After a time William remembered himself and he ended their discussion abruptly, mindful that noon was almost upon them. Then without asking for additional details, he took Samuel Standiford, a Hatcheler from the colonies, and his nephew James Standiford who had been an apprentice of the same trade. Both of them had joined the service at the start of the war and knew the sea life as well as the other nine men of the Providence Prize. William excepted every one, taking on Andrew Light, Moses MacTigue, Martin Gadd, Godfrey Bicknell, Oliver Randall, Francis Thomas Roundtree, James Abraham Sandefur, Blaise Wallace and Gavin Montgomery, able seamen all. The last two men to be added were Brenton Lund, a man half Swede and half English, and his friend, Kevin Norman. They were both survivors of the Rounder, an ill-fated merchant that had run aground near the Grand Turks. They had survived by a combination of outrageous fortunes and no small amount of work on their part, having seen as many follies as they had turns of good luck. All in all they seemed a very pragmatic pair and William found that he could not refuse them. These two brought the total number to twenty-eight and William was satisfied that this was enough for one day, especially given the clothing and supplies they would require before nightfall. He asked the marines to bring the selected prisoners out into the corridor and on to whatever fortunes awaited them. Eight bells of the Forenoon Watch - The Docks Even as William marshaled the new recruits out into an unexpected downpour, the Larboard Watches gathered in the small boats of the frigate and cutter to return to their duties aboard ship. They were a wet, jovial lot, having spent much of their coin in anticipation of the larger sums owed them from the Maastricht. As they laughed, filled the boats and swapped stories of shore they were joined by another. Christophe Lefevre arrived at the docks at precisely noon of that day. The bells from several churches were still peeling away when he stepped onto the docks and began asking after the "Witch Dog". This mispronunciation attracted the attention of Ciaran and Claude Marchande, who both had a good laugh about it. "Witch Dog...?" Ciaran repeated several times, enjoying the sound of it. "I'll be weeks getting that out of my head." Claude was still laughing as well, but he had heard it differently. He was thinking 'Which Dog' and it reminded him of something his brother had always joked about. Still, when he heard the obvious French in the man's accent, he explained that he and Ciaran were members of the 'Watch Dog' crew. "Ce s'appelle le chien de garde." "Ahhh..." Christophe returned. "Un chien pour garder..." Claude and Ciaran explained many more things to the Frenchman as they pushed off from the docks to bare the last of the Larboard Watches back to the 'Dog and Heron. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

William thought of the Hamer Hoen. He tried not to, but it was pointless. Despite the years which had passed, she had been the first ship that he had captained and he was doomed to remember her upon occasion. He nodded sympathetically. "Welcome aboard, Captain."

And a closet full of shoes no doubt. Steady on, Miss Ashcombe.

William looked at the other men in the cell and something in their body language said that they were not the friends he spoke of. He looked at the tall prisoner again. "Where are your shipmates, sah?"

Kittens...?

William stepped away from the Prussian and his cellmates and walked towards the darker end of the corridor. One of the French marines fetched a lantern to light the faces there and more than a few men squinted away from it as it fell on their varied faces. Some were lean. Some old. Most of them wore beards of a sort, and as with all beards, it was impossible to judge how long many of the men had been there. William found it easier to judge them by the state of their clothing and the tall man looked to have been here since the previous summer. "You look well preserved, sah." And William thought to ask how much longer his clothes had been interned here, but he didn't. Instead he asked, "How long have you been a prisoner here, and where do you hail from?"

A pony...?