William Brand

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Before first bell of Forenoon Watch A solitary knock came at the Ward Room door and Mister Morgan put his head in at the doorway. "Pardon, sah, but Captain Lasseter sends his regards. He's putting into shore to see Mister Pew and to do what ship's business as he has ashore." "Is he gone already from the Heron, Mister Morgan?" William said without looking up from his ledgers. "Aye. And come and gone from the 'Dog, sah." William looked up a moment and nodded. "Damn. Well, very good Mister Morgan. See that the longboat is swung out and have Claude Marchande standing ready." "Sorry, sah, but Mister Marchande is ashore just now. Larboard Wa..." "Aye." William returned. "Of course. And Jannes Kampaert will be ashore as well, then..." "Aye, sah." "What man aboard can speak French?" Mister Morgan thought on the matter awhile, careful to consider anyone who might serve. "The new man, Jean Doublet, sah. But...he's gone abed since the eighth bell, sah. He served the Morning Watch." "I see..." "There is the Dutch boy, Stoir." "Aye, and does he speak a word of English yet?" "No good words, sah. There's Morrell. "Ah, yes." William agreed, and he felt turned about in his watches. 'Too much time spent a shore' he thought. "Thank you, Mister Morgan. Have Mister Morrell report amidships. I shall join him there shortly." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

I like it. Let us endeavour to prove it is period at all costs.

I love you. Platonically. Are you bringing a boat? Say that you are bringing a boat.

For those of you who are not following the discussion called "A Seamans Camp: making camp authentic and nautical, Some tips to make your camp seaworthy" taking place under the Plunder forum, I have copied a recent post about the 1720 Mercury Careening Camp which I made to answer a question asked by Calico Jack. I am posting it here for those people who have questions about the careening camp. I tried to keep the statement relatively general since we are still an evolving idea. http://pyracy.com/forums/index.php?showtop...opic=11490&st=0 First, thank you all for the discussion. The points raised, debated, counter-raised, argued, raised to the ground, explained and raised from the dead are all very interesting. I have gleaned a little from everyone. Now, to answer Calico Jack... The setting or backdrop of the 1720 Mercury Careening Camp is an interesting one. Since the Pirates in Paradise Festival takes place on Key West, and given the chosen year of 1720, the careening takes place in what would have been Spanish waters. Now Fort Zachary Taylor was not built until 1845, so the fort itself is not 'period'. However, the hostilities between Spain and England were such that the year 1720 falls almost directly between the destruction of St. Augustine of 1702 and the Georgian's attack on Florida in 1740, with numerous hostilities of various degrees falling in between. This establishes the English presence, and while it may be a bit fluid and anachronistic in 1720, it suits our purposes. Now, since Harry always has a Red Coat presence at the festival every year, for the purpose of the festival we must argue that for narrative reasons these English soldiers are trying to gain a foothold, outpost or secret base of operations within Spanish Florida. The geography of Key West, both historically, politically and physically, have changed to such a degree that we have to take considerable license, but the fort is there and damn us if were not going to use it! The Mercury and her crew are much easier to explain away. Spanish waters had English pirates. Done. Our story for the festival is this...The Mercury, being an older Bermuda sloop, requires some repairs to her aging hull. The crew of the Mercury has beached the sloop on the Key of Bones for the purpose of careening her to scrape her hull and pitch the seams. By necessity the crew must pitch a makeshift camp ashore while the work on their ship is completed. Relatively simple story. How do we explain away the English proximity to pirates? Again, it is relatively simple. The Pirates have careened the Mercury out of sheer necessity. They are willing to careen so near the usurping English because they know that the forces there are small, almost threadbare. The English cannot afford to over reach their tentative foothold in Spanish waters and we cannot afford a clash with the English while the Mercury is laid over on her side. What exists is a very tenuous relationship between English soldiers and English pirates in a land under the rule of Spain. It becomes the perfect template for intrigue, accusations, suspicion, betrayal and all of the hobgoblin emotions that crop up between two opposing forces. Of course it could be argued, and rightfully so, that we are taking considerable license, but like many pirate festivals we are merely acting out an historical fiction. We are trying to be as accurate to the period, as faithful to history and as true to ourselves as we can be. We hope to be both period and aesthetic enough for our own enjoyment and satisfaction as well as the education and entertainment of our visitors. The individual kits, tents, costuming and extras being supplied for the overall camp fall under the direct discretion of the crew members individually, and in some cases, collectively. This is the first year of the 1720 Mercury Careening Camp. I am certain that an evolution will follow. Again, thank you for the many examples and opinions sited herein. -William Brand

First, thank you all for the discussion. The points raised, debated, counter-raised, argued, raised to the ground, explained and raised from the dead are all very interesting. I have gleaned a little from everyone. Now, to answer Calico Jack... The setting or backdrop of the 1720 Mercury Careening Camp is an interesting one. Since the Pirates in Paradise Festival takes place on Key West, and given the chosen year of 1720, the careening takes place in what would have been Spanish waters. Now Fort Zachary Taylor was not built until 1845, so the fort itself is not 'period'. However, the hostilities between Spain and England were such that the year 1720 falls almost directly between the destruction of St. Augustine of 1702 and the Georgian's attack on Florida in 1740, with numerous hostilities of various degrees falling in between. This establishes the English presence, and while it may be a bit fluid and anachronistic in 1720, it suits our purposes. Now, since Harry always has a Red Coat presence at the festival every year, for the purpose of the festival we must argue that for narrative reasons these English soldiers are trying to gain a foothold, outpost or secret base of operations within Spanish Florida. The geography of Key West, both historically, politically and physically, have changed to such a degree that we have to take considerable license, but the fort is there and damn us if were not going to use it! The Mercury and her crew are much easier to explain away. Spanish waters had English pirates. Done. Our story for the festival is this...The Mercury, being an older Bermuda sloop, requires some repairs to her aging hull. The crew of the Mercury has beached the sloop on the Key of Bones for the purpose of careening her to scrape her hull and pitch the seams. By necessity the crew must pitch a makeshift camp ashore while the work on their ship is completed. Relatively simple story. How do we explain away the English proximity to pirates? Again, it is relatively simple. The Pirates have careened the Mercury out of sheer necessity. They are willing to careen so near the usurping English because they know that the forces there are small, almost threadbare. The English cannot afford to over reach their tentative foothold in Spanish waters and we cannot afford a clash with the English while the Mercury is laid over on her side. What exists is a very tenuous relationship between English soldiers and English pirates in a land under the rule of Spain. It becomes the perfect template for intrigue, accusations, suspicion, betrayal and all of the hobgoblin emotions that crop up between two opposing forces. Of course it could be argued, and rightfully so, that we are taking considerable license, but like many pirate festivals we are merely acting out an historical fiction. We are trying to be as accurate to the period, as faithful to history and as true to ourselves as we can be. We hope to be both period and aesthetic enough for our own enjoyment and satisfaction as well as the education and entertainment of our visitors. The individual kits, tents, costuming and extras being supplied for the overall camp fall under the direct discretion of the crew members individually, and in some cases, collectively. This is the first year of the 1720 Mercury Careening Camp. I am certain that an evolution will follow. Again, thank you for the many examples and opinions sited herein. -William Brand

Well, just wait until we can get Mister Tar in here, or some other gent.

I've hosted many dances. Aye. Hosted them.

Aye...if you aren't partial to grace.

The Ward Room is a similar chat that we use to discuss our lives on and off the Watch Dog. We are there more often than the Scuttlebutt, and when I say there, I mean all of the time.

Not so greedy. I might share the extras.

Do you do the ironwork as well?

In the jungles of Martinique It took Adebanke one full hour to free herself from the bonds which held her to the tree. Tawny did not stir even once during that time, but she still slipped the last of the cords as carefully as she dared. Her confidence was quickly deteriorating, for she was certain now that her own heartbeat was loud enough to wake the damned, Tawny included. As for Tawny, he was caught up in a dream about a girl he had once wanted desperately to hurt. The dream was one he had often and he never liked waking from it. He relished it from scene to scene as it played out in his mind, unaware that Adebanke was standing over him with a stone large enough to do him soundly in. She stood there over him trembling from fear and the weight of the heavy stone. She had found that courage that she thought she wouldn't. Courage to lift the rock over him. Courage to crush him, but now it eroded. There was some unexplainable fear in her that crept up in her spine. It choked her resolve. It melted her physical strength. It was a fear that if she didn't do him in all at once, he would come back to life more terrible than ever. He would simply stand up, gory and terrible and do something worse than her small imagination could conjure. It was an irrational fear of course. One good blow with the jagged, volcanic rock and she and the rest of the world would be rid of him absolutely, but the world wasn't here. It was only her and the monster. Adebanke set the rock down as carefully as she had picked it up. Her legs were starting to wobble. She turned on them with what strength she had left and began to creep away. She did not run. She did not sprint to safety. She walked as slowly as she could possible manage. The mouse before the slumbering cat. Her heart was thundering so hard now that she thought she might start screaming soon. Her body was pumped full of adrenaline that she was forced to suppress. She could only hear it because it thundered in her ears. And still she crept, repeating the same mantra over and over in her mind. "Don't run. Don't run. Don't run." Then Tawny rolled over. Just that. He didn't wake. He didn't open his eyes. He just rolled over in his sleep. By the time Tawny had settled again into dreams, Adebanke had sprinted off blindly into the night some crossing more distance in a few heartbeats than she had ever managed in all her young years. She did not stop running for almost half an hour.

July 31, 1704 "You have done for her what can be done. Let her do your work for the time being. Let her whole day be made of work. She will be the better for it and you will have the day." William was quiet, but only a moment. "You and Meg have seen enough to decide for yourselves if you want to remain here aboard the 'Dog. This is not a dismissal. Your work here has been remarkable, given your all too recent rescue and your injuries, but I won't lie to you. It is a hard life. You have money enough to go ashore and do well ashore. I don't need an answer from you now, Miss McDonough, but you should think on the matter." There was something in his tone that said that they were finished. Perhaps it was an order that she shouldn't answer now, but it seemed more a favor and perhaps fatigue on his part. Either way she curtsied and he bowed, deep and graceful. The respect he put into the gesture, even in his weariness, spoke volumes. So did the calm and genuine expression upon his face. No further words but 'Cap'n' and 'Miss McDonough' were exchanged as she let herself out of the Ward Room. William went to his hammock at once and was still undressing as he climbed into it. The rest it promised was too inviting to ignore a moment more. 5 bells of First Watch

William closed the door to the Ward Room and was pleasantly surprised to find that Tudor had placed a lantern and a basin of water out for his use. Once again he tossed his coat and hat away with little concern for either of them, and it was apparent that the day had been a long one for him. He placed the heel of his left hand under his chin and popped his neck once before turning to face Murin. "How is it with you, Miss McDonough?" he asked, but before she could answer he shook his head. "The hand is healing well enough, but I want you to take the morrow to rest it. The uniforms can wait. With Mister Pew ashore and the placement of the marines aboard the Heron and 'Dog in question, it seems to me that a little patience is in order. With this in mind, I should like you to cease your labors at this moment and I would like you to go ashore by the first boat available, whether it be noon or not." He paused here, and whether he wanted her to answer the first question or the orders, he gave no indication. He just stood there regarding her.

The wound was angry from use, but not so much as it had been before, and whether William was bothered by it or not, he said nothing. He simply unwrapped her hand with as a passive and removed an expression as any surgeon might have worn. He peeled the last of the bandage away carefully and set it aside. Then he filled a basin with clean water and washed the wound, ignoring any social propriety that might make Murin uncomfortable. He was mindful of any pain this might cause her at first, but when she demonstrated that pain was something she could bare, he was more thorough. Part way through this procedure he looked over at Meg and said, "Come here, lass. You should see how to do this if you are to help our Miss McDonough in her labors." At first, Meg did not move, but remained where she was. Murin was not surprised by this, given Meg's reaction to Owen, but William was not so patient. "Did you not hear me, Miss Wardell?" Meg jumped up at once, coming over quickly, but Murin did not have time to wonder if William was unaware of Meg's feelings of late, for he exchanged a knowing look with the tailor that said much. To his credit, William kept Meg distracted from herself by interchange and explanations, showing her how to clean and dress the wound. Any time that she faltered or appeared to shrink, he would raise his voice just enough to be commanding. By the time he had dressed the wound entirely, Meg looked more her old self than ever, though her old self had been a half starved castaway like Murin when she had come aboard. "Can you dress that wound as I've shown you, Miss Wardell?" he asked, his face serious. "I believe so, sah." she said, and William did not seem satisfied with this. "You believe so?" "I'm certain I could, sah." she said with more conviction. "Good, good. That will be all then. Rest your hands and eyes, Miss Wardell. Miss McDonough, I'll speak with you in the Ward Room."

"Indeed. My many thanks to you both." William smiled warmly enough, but he eyed Murin's hand. Setting his hat on the table he stripped off his coat and tossed it carelessly over a chair. "Let's see that hand, Miss McDonough." he said as he began rolling up his sleeves.

It is amusing that the 9 and the 0 are too close together on the keyboard. Everyone is calling the 1720 camp the 1729 camp lately.

July 31, 1704 4 bells of First Watch William stood there a moment in the passageway speaking with Tudor. Their voices were pitched low, but not so much that the words Navarra, coin, danger and several other intriguing nouns and adjectives passed into the room. When they were done, William stepped inside the sick ward, hat in hand. "Good evening, ladies." "Good evening, Captain." They both returned, each in a very different tone and accent. He nodded, and walked into the room a few feet. "Am I disturbing you...?"

Aye. A very good site indeed. It crops up from time to time in discussions on the Pub at fairly regular intervals. What I would rather is that people would buy me boats just like those at regular intervals.

Most kind. We're rife with toasts of late. Let's empty a cask and call for a fiddler.

A gracious bow may be in order, but you are either over-flattering or under-traveled. The Kate boasts a great many foods, but surely you've had at least one finer food elsewhere.

July 31, 1704 between 3 and 4 bells of First Watch William was inclined to speak on the matter further, but the day was gone and he was in need of rest. He was determined to find himself in the prison on the morrow, an idea which made him chuckle overloudly to himself and this drew a look from Dorian and Tudor. "It's nothing." William said, though it was probably the wine. Soon the boat bumped softly against the Heron and Dorian departed to the decks of the cutter. He waved them a farewell with his raised hat and with a few words exchanged, they returned to the frigate. "Would they pay handsomely for such a service, Captain?" Tudor asked as they reached the Watch Dog. "Almost certainly, given the opulence of our surroundings at dinner." William said, offering her a hand up. She took it and looked thoughtful, smiling that quiet smile of hers that spoke secret volumes. "I am enjoying the trade." "So am I, Miss Smith. So am I."

Ahhhh...a discerning wit. Give the lass a round on the house, and fetch her fare from the galley.

William stands up and mops himself up a bit before approaching the new customer. "Good day, lass. Welcome to the Kate. My apologies for my appearance...just a bit of humor about the place. Now...pray tell, what is a men-you?"

July 31, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal 3 bells of First Watch Dorian's toast, William's solemnity, Tudor's questions or some unknown cue of their hosts suddenly signaled the end of the dinner and conversation. In the end it proved to be as mysterious as the initial invitation, though Dorian and William both had drawn similar conclusions about the evening. One moment they were discussing the Navarra and Le Vedette, and the next they were exchanging farewells and climbing down into the waiting boat. Once they were away from the Navarra and rowing again to the Heron and 'Dog, Dorian began to voice his thoughts aloud. "She's still heavy laden." William was looking at the Navarra and he nodded. "Yeees. Still." Tudor looked between them hoping to understand why this was important to the two Captains, and for a moment she had the devious thought that they were planning to take her a prize, but she shook off this thought. "Do they mean to take the cargo somewhere else?" She asked. "I believe so, Miss Smith." William returned, squinting at the Navarra now. "They've come a courtin'." Dorian explained. "Courting..." Tudor said slowly with an awakening understanding as she too looked back at the Navarra. "That would be my guess." William agreed. "They have cargo important enough to have had a frégate. Now they have none." "Then they shall need a...companion again." Tudor said quietly and to no one in particular. "Aye." Dorian nodded, smiling. William turned to look at the 'Dog. "Our pedigree is being perused." Elsewhere in the jungles of Martinique... Tawny slept his first true sleep since slipping the 'Dog's clutches. He had exhausted himself with the self surgery that had proved to be as much mutilation as medicine. Strangely enough, the man had demonstrated that he was a far better surgeon than a human being, for he had carved out the rot of his face and the worst part of his arm and used fire and ash to both sterilize and tattoo himself simultaneously. Now he was asleep, maybe even snoring. Adebanke was wide awake. The night of the Martinique jungle was as warm and loud as any night that had come before. There was little comfort in this din raised by unknown birds, insects and perhaps even night mammals. Adebanke knew very little of the deeper recesses of the island, and had not wanted to. The place had seemed uninviting to a young girl. She had imagined all sorts of monsters within it ever since arriving at the plantation, but now that she had met Tawny she knew that nothing worse could possibly dwell in this place. Even more than this realization was the idea that she was far more mortal now than she believed any other girl of her age might be. Seldom do children come to a full understanding of their fragile lives at such an early age, but Adebanke understood it perfectly. Slumped there against the tree she understood all of this all too well and in that moment she understood something else all at once. The noise of the night was almost absolute. Tawny lay stretched out on the ground and his snoring, loud as it was, was all but drowned in the noise of the night. She stared at his muted respiration. She had feared that escape was impossible, but hearing that she could hear so little now, she realized two things. One, she could risk escape if escape could be had, and two...if she could find enough courage to escape, she might find enough to kill Tawny. ~Starboard Watches on Duty~