William Brand

Nope, nope and nope. Here is a follow up quote from the same film... "No. That's Sleigh as in one horse open."

Seconded. It is always best to know as far out as possible. We are considering a Spring or early summer trip to one of the East Coast events in 2008.

^ Disneyland a few times. < The weather here is moderate and wonderful. Sorry for those of you who still have to wait, but Spring is here. At least for the next two hours. V What is your favorite amusement park ride?

July 29, 1704 - At Martinique Six bells of the Mid Watch French guards and a few late onlookers came to the Chandler more than once during the night to visit Captain Lasseter with questions. They were often the same questions which covered the same general details of the assault. Dorian's head cleared enough to be accurate, or at the very least, consistent on this points. A magistrate was also fetched in short order to examine what, if anything, might be done about the assault and the consequent slayings. It was learned and proved that Captain Lasseter had been assaulted by the two men, for the idea that a stranger, and a Captain at that, would have hardly provoked a fight in the dark on an alien shore. The Magistrate examined the fallen men and found that the first had dashed his head a little to hard and died in this state and the second had been done in by a stab wound that went clear through the man, depriving him of a working lung and his heart. Dorian's own injuries seemed adequate enough to satisfy the Magistrate on several points, and the man looked too tired to be anymore thorough than a cursory examination, so he informed the Englishman that he would see him for questioning at a more reasonable hour. The Magistrates final words, in very passable English, were used in instructing the Chandler to "Fetch this man to a doctor." "It is late..." the Chandler said weakly, and he was visited by a stern look from the Magistrate, who was more than aware of the lateness of the hour. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

Meat. Sailors two months at sea would want fresh meat. We should have roasting spits to be certain, and I may roast a few chickens or other fowl over the fire at least one night. I plan to do some late night cooking so that we have things to nibble on and sample while we talk away the long night watches. We might also need a pot of continuosly bad coffee for those who are patrolling the camps. I'm also cooking some bacon in whatever form I can get it from a butcher while I'm there. I don't camp lest there is bacon. I'm too used to getting up and starting the morning fires not to be rewarded with a little bacon.

^ No, I'm male and a Mammal. < I cook up a mean cheese sandwich. V Have you eaten eggs raw?

Ship the guns or pack them in hard cases... I'll put you down as one of the many possibles.

Welcome aboard you Son of a Scot. From what clan do you hail?

Not theee Vile Vince...?

I need to expand my shop to include making copper and tin items. It is so tempting. I'm drawn to so many of the craftsman arts. Which reminds me. I have a powder horn that needs carving.

^ Aye. Trees, shrubs, houseplants, vines and all manner of other plants. We have a huge yard and many well lit windows. < I actually keep and trim minature trees in several varieties. V Have you ever broken a bone?

July 29, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Five bells of the Middle Watch William's eyes fell on the letter and he reached for it, even as he eyed Eric up and down. Eric looked at once relieved an pensive. William unfolded the worn paper and read; 12 March 1704 Preston, It pains me to deliver this to you in ink, but alas son, we know not where... William folded it again and fixed Eric with a blank, but also questioning expression. He gave Eric a short nod and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Well...?" "Sah. It's a letter to Mister Pew from hi..." William waved this part off. "If I wanted to know the contents myself, I would have read it, Mister Franklin. How did you come by it?" "It was in Pres...Mister Pew's ledger. I knocked it to the floor. Quite by accident, sah." "And did this private correspondence fall to the floor unfolded?" William returned, his tone flat. "Sah. I...didn't know what it was...when..." "When you began to read it." William finished for him. Eric nodded, and he looked at the moment like the idea of shore leave was sounding better and better to him with every passing second. "Have you read the entire contents of this letter, Mister Franklin?" "Aye, sah." Eric said, and this time his reply was short and to the point. There was no point in denying it. His own uncertainty before had been answer enough to lay most of the matter before the Captain. "Mister Pew takes you into his confidence, does he not?" William asked, turning back to the ledger. "Aye, sah." "I believe he would be quite pleased with the way you have handled the matter of the small arms in his absence." Eric didn't seem to know where to go with this, so he simply replied, "Thank you, Sah." William returned to the act of running his finger down the inked columns of the ledger. He let a silence fill the room. He continued to read for some time, taking each notation in turn until a full ten minutes or more had passed. Then he picked up the folded letter and placed it in the ledger like a bookmark, closing it with a soft thump. He picked it up and crossed to where Mister Franklin stood waiting. "Everything seems to be in order. At first light, you will transport the small arms and Captain Lasseter's personal effects to the Heron. There, you will secure the arms in the Heron's armory, unless Captain Lasseter should wish to review the lists prior to storage. You may employ as many men and marines as you may need to accomplish this task before noon. Once this is accomplished, you have my leave to go ashore with the Larboard crews for your first full night and morning at Martinique." "Aye, Sah." William passed the ledger to Eric, but even when Eric took hold of it, William did not let go. Instead, he came a little closer to the Sergeant-at-Arms and said, almost in confidence, "A letter...wickedly conjured...once sent me and 300 plus souls on the path of outcasts. That poisonous publication made us patriots and then pirates in the same moment, forever cutting us Sons of England from the womb of that nation." Eric swallowed and blinked. "Are there treasons in this letter?" "No, Sah." "Does any matter within the letter threaten my person or anyone of us aboard these few ships?" "No, Sah." "Then it is of no consequence to me. Please see it returned to its place, and should the matter ever come up again, make it understood to Preston that I do not know its contents. I would not malign his privacy just to entertain my curiosity." William's tone was not harsh. It was almost brotherly. This was almost worse than anger to Eric, for he felt then that he might enjoy a lash or two and wished he had never found the letter at all. "I understand, Sah." he said quietly, but firmly. "Thank you, Mister Franklin." William said, and he released the ledger so suddenly that Eric almost dropped it. The Captain turned and crossed back to the Ward Room table. "Mister Franklin, you have the quarterdeck. At the change of the next watch you may choose the most aptly rested officer to replace you there." "Aye, Sah. Thank you, Sah." "And see that you get some rest tonight. That which they call 'rest' ashore is very tiring." Eric smiled a little then, and it was a genuine smile. "Yes, Sah. Rest in commotion." William nodded and Eric snapped off a salute before taking his place up on the Holy Ground. ~Larboard Watches on Duty~

William examined the ledgers from end to end. He ran his finger down the page checking and nodding along the way. When he reached the letter, he set it aside with little notice, but for a passing question. "An old correspondence, Mister Franklin?" Eric said nothing, and this more than anything else attracted William's attention. He raised his eyebrows and peered up from the lists of arms. "Is something the matter?"

William was lost in thought about Thomas Fitch, the only other young life to be snuffed out as recently as the ship's cat, and just had time to wonder why the powder monkey's death had been easier to except than a bloody cat's, when a knock came at the door. "Enter." Eric Franklin came into the ward room by the door and stairs off of the quarterdeck, carrying hat in hand. He looked tired, but presentable. "Sah." "Ah, Mister Franklin." William said, gesturing for him to come forward a little. Then he paused. "Mister Franklin...Why are you not ashore?" "Beg pardon, Sah, but there were duties to attend to." William gave him a reproachful look that had no real edge to it. "You and the Mister Wenge are cut from similar cloth. Work first. Rum later." William shook his head. "We are allies with the French now, Mister Franklin. We have a duty to uphold their sugar trade by imbibing in large quantities of rum ashore." Eric smiled a little, but there was no hiding his fatigue. He was also eyeing the strange shrouded shape on the Ward Room table with a puzzled expression. It looked like a mound of unfinished food spread over with an old table cloth. William had found one of the two pieces of finery, and as the linen had been damaged in the Maastricht battle, he did not think the Steward would scold him for shrouding a deceased cat with it. "Amenhotep." "Sah?" "Amen...the ship's ca..." "Aye, Sah. Dead, Sah...?" William nodded.

Wow...not one. Not two. But ten events. Let's see...I go to PIP once every two years so that's 0.5 a year. I have half an event and you have ten. You owe it to me to take good pictures.

Dignity does not consist in possessing honors, but in deserving them. - Aristotle

^ Little...? < I'm too loud of a personality to have little quirks. V I'll pass the question on.

Just an FYI. The Mercury draughts are looking very nice. She is shaping into a grand little boat.

Twenty on the treadmill today. I did a good sprint in the middle. It felt good.

He means, "Lass, thy efforts are laudable."

July 28, 1704 - Ville du Fort Royal "Est-ce que vous êtes ivre?" Captain Lasseter came awake from a very deep well of confusion. His head swam in a miasma of pain and lost time. The voice, coming at him now, was direct. The harshness of it cut across his temples. He felt a bit of a kick, perhaps from a boot. "Est-ce que vous êtes ivre? Comprenez-vous?" It took some time for Dorian to get his bearings and there was little about him which helped in this regard. He was armed, though for what reason he couldn't guess. His hair felt wet, and when he put his hand to his face it came away sticky with blood. A man was bent over him, pressing the light from an open shuttered lantern into his face. There was an interchange between the lurking man and another which Dorian could not make out past the light. They used words like "Magistrat" and "criminel". "Il me...faut un...docteur." Dorian attempted, hoping this request might buy him some immediate empathy and assistance. It came out too quiet and not a little slurred. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit?" the man returned, louder than necessary. "L'anglais..." said the other unseen man. "Êtes-vous anglais ?" Dorian seemed unsure for a moment how to answer. It wasn't the situation exactly. It was his mind, which was speaking to him as if a thing removed. His thoughts were surfacing from a very muddy place in the back of his head. What little French he had mastered over the years was returning to him with ease, but his native language suddenly seemed lost to him altogether. He just couldn't find his tongue, but for a little français. 'I've died and come back a Frenchmen...' he thought, and with this he found his tongue. "Captain Lasseter." He managed. "Capitaine L'asseteur." The man parroted, then added. "Vous avez tué ces hommes." Dorian did not understand the man's words a moment, or whether or not they were meant as a question or accusation. He looked down at the strewn bodies of the two strangers and was for a moment as surprised to find them there as the two men bent over him. Then that powder in his mind, which had seemed wet and worthless before, fired off his memory.

^ That would be the one with the slip-and-slide on the front lawn when Eric got naked and took a run down the slide. < I'm in the mood for Greek potatoes. V I'm passing the question along.

^ An island. < I'm also holding out for a very specific sword. V what is the best find for your kit you have discovered so far?

^ One. a Viking sword my wife bought for my birthday some six years ago. Now, if you were to ask me about knives. I own at least ten knives of various makes. Most of them handmade one of kind knives. < I had a friend in high school that would beat people up when they looked at me wrong and then he would tell me about it after. I had to tell him to stop. V Have you ever been in a knock down, drag out fight?

^ A raven. Smart. Flight. Can eat almost anything. I'd live everywhere. < I'm going out into the yard today to do some cleaning. V Do you own or rent?