William Brand

But that could mean so many, many things. I went off on the very first adventure to present itself when the English discovered me last. Irregardless, welcome aboard. Come by the Ward Room at your leisure and we shall discuss the terms. http://www.the-watchdog.com/Chat

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William smiled to think of Tudor in her new finery, and touching that thought, he fetched out her portion of the Ilex Fortune. She received this with a look of delight, for she could now spend with less reserve in her upcoming purchases. William shook his head to see the wheels turning in her mind. "If he proves to be harmless, let us not vex the poor fellow past friendship, Miss Smith." She nodded, but her smile remained wicked. She left the room in this mood and William began his pacing again, content to keep his thoughts unspoken for awhile. He wondered on many things from the Maastricht to Mister Pew. This last thought brought him to another one that he did not like, for the mystery of it bothered him. He went to the surgeon's quarters to satisfy what he hoped was his mistake and an unnecessary curiousity, but she was not there. Her cabin was utterly empty. He also checked the surgery, where he found Meg Wardell and Murin McDonough at the work of making uniforms. "Ladies." he said, dismissing himself again. He crossed the passageway to the galley. Here he found Constance at work preparing the evening supper. She was up to her elbows in flour and singing something that was part hymn and part love song. "Constance." "Sah. How are ya, sah?" "I'm well enough. May I ask if either you or the cook have seen our Doctor of late?" "No, sah. She's taken no meals, sah." Constance nodded, and hesitated in adding. "I've not seen her these..." "Three days." He finished. "Aye. Carry on." William went out into the sun and he knew what constance was thinking. Half of the crew might be thinking it by now. The Doctor had been gone almost three full days. Meg, relatively unharmed, but in need of reassurance had lingered in the sick ward with no more company than Ajayi. William now noted that even Ajayi had gone out, for he found him on the weatherdecks, his face turned to the sun. The poor man's bandages looked frightfully unmanaged. Even Pew, vital as he was to the crew, had to be rowed ashore in the Doctor's absence. William tried to be sympathetic in his reasoning, but he wasn't feeling generous, despite the sale of the Maastricht. "Where is my Doctor?" he growled. "Where is my Doctor...?" Seven bells of the Afternoon Watch ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

"Well...we shall see what comes of dinner." William said, standing, and he paced before the shuttered windows. He did this mostly to stretch his legs again, but he also liked to think aloud when he walked. He paused once in a turn. "You would look lovely in the gown from the ball at La Margarita." Tudor looked surprised. William continued. "We shall except this invitation to dine, and furthermore, we shall undo the Lieutenant with finery and unexpected turns, whatever his intentions may be. What will he think of you when you arrive aboard the Navarra in the dress of a woman when he has seen you so recently in the formality of the Ward Room? He won't know what to make of you." "I would like that very much." she said with a curt nod. "Furthermore, I shall ask Captain Lasseter to join us. Two Captains for their one."

July 31, 1704 - The Ward Room of the Watch Dog "Infinite space in a nutshell, I imagine." William returned, with a shrug. "He has witnessed one of two things, which he believes. One, that you are a woman, and as such, you are the weaker sex. If this is the case, he does not understand the true meaning of lioness." Tudor smiled at this and asked if she might have that drink now. William poured her a short glass, but he did not refill his own. "Two..." William continued, "...he recognizes that he cannot know what stuff you are made of and therefore he must treat you as an equal for fear of looking the fool at a later time. Still, I believe he respects the room as much as the occupant." he admitted, gesturing at the Ward Room itself. "The office before the officer." she said. "Just so. Always offer men and women respect until they themselves make such respect undeserving or absolute." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the 'Dog Between six and seven bells of the Afternoon Watch Before William said anything of the Navarra, he sent word across to the Heron that he had returned and that he would join dorian aboard the Heron within the hour. Then he invited Miss Smith for a drink in the Ward Room. She joined him there, but politely refused the drink, having shared several glasses from before. William poured himself one just the same, and set his hat aside. "Tell me about the Lieutenant." Tudor explained his mannerisms and the words that passed between her and him. She explained the revelation regarding the trap doors below their feet, and the understanding that the Spaniard had observed all aboard. William sipped his cup with an appreciative smile and nodded several times during her narration. When she was done, he said nothing. He sipped his glass until it was dry and then he set it aside. "The Spanish are our allies, Miss Smith." William said smiply, and she gave him a look then that was less Steward and more armed boarder. He smiled. "Sorry. I did not mean to stoop, Miss Smith. You are right to be cautious." he amended, still smiling. "...but I imagine the examination of the Watch Dog is an affectation of the Lieutenant. A habit of his position. If he is a military man, then he must judge the strength of his friends as much as his enemies...as you are doing now, and to your credit." She didn't say anything for a moment, so William leaned in a little as if in confidence, smiling as he said. "I imagine the Lieutenant was put out of habit when a woman invited him to the Ward Room." ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

3 is a lie. You would willingly run away with gypsies.

In a word, no. There are some details which cannot be completed until the fort gets the go ahead on repairs this year. They were supposed to have started them in June, but Harry is still waiting for word on the matter. Government funding. Government timetable. Only the individual kits are being discussed. Hurricane can answer any questions about the 1680 encampment as far as the placement of the tents for his group, but the other two camps are primarily just tent towns with the various sundry props. I am also awaiting a map of the exact camping areas. Once I have that I can show it to everyone. Please maintain this level of enthusiasm. All will be answered in time.

I see you eyeing the articles there. Do you mean to come aboard, sah?

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Maastricht William stood at the taffrails on the Maastricht stretching tired legs. He had spent over two hours showing the Maastricht to three pairs of bidding businessmen, all of them bent on having the large merchant vessel for themselves. He couldn't blame them. The Maastricht had a good line for her size. She was tall to be sure and possessed of very comfortable after-cabins. The Ward Room and Captain's Cabin of the 'Dog were not half so big as the Maastricht's vast spaces astern, though she carried less guns than the 'Dog ton for ton. Her finest attribute was her construction, for she was well made and sturdy, especially with the refit under the watchful eye of their Master Carpenter. Her only real failing lay in her lack of speed, but any cargo large enough to fill the total of her holds would prevent much in the way of speed anyway, and she could hold much. Her stores alone would be almost double that of the 'Dog. William remembered then the curse-spat nickname that Jacob Badger had given her and he laughed. "The Elephant." he said aloud to no one. Captain Lasseter's voice carried then across the waves and William turned to look out over the water towards the Heron, bemused to see the small vessel run out guns against the 'Dog in a pantomime of combat that was as serious as any real battle. He could hear Dorian's voice booming among the Heron gunnery crews as he ran them through their paces. More than once he was heard showering hard words followed by short praise, careful to mix derision with compliments as he drove them to an understanding of the new brass and all of the alterations that came with their weight. William was content to listen for awhile, appraising what he couldn't see by Lasseter's shouting. "Look lively ya flax-wench!" Dorian yelled at one particular failing and William smiled as he tried in vain to remember the meaning of it. Some of Dorian's calls were lost in the rebounding 'Aye-Ayes!' that echoed over the bay, but William still managed to pick out a few. "Lumpish Joithead! Keep yer shoulder clear, there!" Jacob Badger came up beside Captain Brand, tapping the end of a well used pipe in the palm of his hand. He was also smiling. "Cap'n's giving them a little Irish today." "Aye." William agreed, never taking his eyes from the drilling aboard the Heron. "Sifting the sluggards." Jacob nodded. They both stood awhile saying nothing, for the afternoon was a pleasant one, despite the warmth and neither of them was prepared to do any work for the moment. After a time listening, William removed his hat and wiped his brow before replacing it again. He took in a long breath of air and let it out. "Mister Badger, you have the Maastricht." "And tomorrow, sah?" "The Counting House of Charpentier and Goddu." Jacob looked surprised. "I would have thought that wheezing fellow, the..." "The Sugar Baron?" William finished for him. "Aye. The Sugar Baron will have it. Eventually. Goddu offered me ten percent over Monsieur Dawnay's final offer, saying that he would sell it again to Dawnay himself at fifteen percent more. "Then why not sell it to Dawnay for more, yourself?" Jacob returned, and he suddenly looked all business and numbers. William smiled, for he too had thought of playing the haggler, but in the end he had recognized the dangers in the deal. "Well, Mister Badger...I do not believe that Goddu would have offered the ten percent so readily if he himself had not thought it the better tactic. Dawnay might walk away completely if we tire him with added numbers. He could also go to the Spanish." William said, gesturing to the large merchant ship anchored not too far off. "As it happened, they both understood each other well enough to know the lay of the land better than I." William concluded, but then added. "Better a bird in hand than ten in the wood." Jacob nodded, but did not look altogether convinced. "If I may, sah. What will the Elephant fetch...?" "By my calculation...nearly 66,719 livres." It was the second time in as many weeks that William Brand had stunned Jacob Badger to silence. William watched with an appreciative smile as the Bosun did the calculations and exchanges in his head. "That, sah...is close to...5,000 English pounds." Jacob said, hoping that his math was correct. "Just neatly over 5,000." William agreed. "Sah. I owe you another drink." Six Bells of the Afternoon Watch ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

You have thanked me often and with style, but you are again very welcome. I like seeing it behind so many happy faces... ...and the occasional celebrity. Huzzah, indeed.

I thought I was logged in.

A toast to the Pyrates of Treasure Cove.

Mischievous.

Enlightened. Secure. Sure footed. Established. All the good grounding one can get.

If you wish to keep your affairs secret, drink no wine. ~Author Unknown

Grounded.

No. However, you could write one that is.

Aye. That is exactly what I was thinking, though Master Studley has a good point regarding the white, so if the white is less historically accurate, then I have no problem with the antique orange.

Most kind, Captain. As for my nomination, I believe that I chose Redd Oktober before and I see no reason to change my nomination. His signature is simple, humorous, and to the point.

July 31, 1704 - In the jungles of Martinique He was gone and she celebrated his absence in tears. The night had been a long one, for in the wake of his self surgery, Tawny had cried, laughed, moaned, rambled, shouted and sung a variety of half mad songs. He had slept a little, but this had been the worst of it, for in dreaming he would speak aloud in a voice at times that threatened to push her soul to the precipice. His nightmares became her nightmares and he would cry aloud, "Don't hurt me!", and it frightened her, though she did not understand it. This mantra of terror woke him so often that he would yell at the darkness awhile before going to sleep again, and then only to mumble half dreamt phrases. Adding to this unpleasantness, Tawny would twitch. His whole body would jerk at once and she would cry out in half choked gasps. Still, his dreaming had not been the worst part of the night, for quite unexpectedly, in the middle of a dream he had jumped up. He paced awhile then and sang to himself. The singing had evolved into loud protestations regarding pigs and angels. Then all at once, Tawny had stopped to look at her. One moment he had been singing, and the next he was still as a ghost. He stood looking at her as though he had never noticed her at all. He did this with such a genuine look of surprise that she almost screamed, realizing that his realization of her might mean terrible things. She wasn't wrong. He had walked up to her then with a smile so endearing that she had fixed her eyes shut as tightly as she could. Then he had touched her cheek and caressed her hair, and it was awful. Snakes and earthworms would have been more welcome, but she had borne the touch. It had last only minutes, but they were the vast seconds of eternal damnation. Now he was gone and the sun was high overhead. He had been gone since rediscovering her in the dark. He had left with a look of elation and he almost skipped as he went away. She had been left alone the remainder of the night, and had awoken to sunlight and the noise of the jungle. The morning had been a long one, with insects and thirst for company. She sat huddled against the tree to which she was bound and prayed to gods both ancient and unknown for deliverance. She knew not the gods of her people, having left the Yorubans too young to know their teachings, and the god of the French was a stranger to her, though her name implied otherwise. She tried not to think of this, for her name was a gaul of bitterness to her. It was a mockery to her plight. Poison in a word. Adebanke. God is taking care of her. "Tuez-moi...un dieu." she whispered in the frailest voice she possessed, hoping in despair for salvation. "Qu'est-ce garçon ?" Tawny answered from the trees as he returned with a bucket sloshing with water. "Il parle français..." she thought terrified, ignoring his misuse of gender. Her heart ached with dismay. He had never spoken French once since her abduction, and this had been a blessing. She did not want to understand his ramblings. She did not want to be familiar with his declarations. His English had been a removed thing and this had been her sole comfort. Now he smiled and she could see that he would speak to her in a language too familiar. "Tuez-moi...un dieu." Adebanke said again, but only in the corner of her remaining self.

To make matters simple, could we agree on a white boat with red and gold trim?

Eating a grilled cheese sandwich made of two parts sourdough bread and one part pepperjack cheese.

Rusty has significant experience in rowing, so the question of surf might be best directed his way.

Last night was evil. Tossed like a salad.

Miss Ransom, I remove my hat to you. Allow me to offer you a drink.