William Brand

Stories continued about the table until William was satisfied that the shore party had enjoyed their time in port enough that they would not mind the much needed return to the Watch Dog. There was business aboard the three ships at anchor that could not wait while they spent and drank ashore, so William ordered a final round of drinks and they set out into the Martinique night. They walked the lamplit streets of the French colony and were greeted and ignored by their share of individuals all the way to the docks. The weather was fine and the air, both sweet and rank, as is common along shores, greeted them warmly as they walked. Claude sang a tune that was familiar to all, though only he knew all the words. Preston and Paul tried to join him in the chorus more than once, and their failure to pronounce any one word correctly, owing to a few drinks in their bellies, caused considerable laughter. Claude was unperturbed, and by the fifth round of the chorus, he took to butchering the words on purpose so that the result was a slur of very poor French and very good English laughter. William did not mind the din or the behavior and even he took to walking backwards on the last round of the chorus, that he might conduct their butchered chorus with his walking stick. So it was that they came to the docks again in good spirit and filled with many good spirits.

Mister Pew never stopped smiling, though his mouth flattened a little and he glowered a bit in good humor. He punctuated his exasperation with a small sigh, so William elaborated. "Fortune brought me to the 'Dog." William said, and he was unsure where to begin and what chapter of his life to draw from, for some of that fortune had ben ill, and so many events, small and great, had led him to his auspicious place on the light frigate. He let the phrase hang for a moment, but not on purpose. His mind had simply wandered a moment until the silence of the waiting listeners prompted him back to his story. "I tried my hand at the merchant trade some years back, though with little success. An old friend from my early sea days encouraged me to join in partnership with him and one Andries Salade, an intemperate fellow out of the Seven Provinces. I was schooled in the arts of trade and cartography and served aboard the company's flagship, Commonwealth. The name proved to be erroneous of course, since Salade was the only man ever to become wealthy off of the endeavor, and the only profit we shared in common was the man's unpleasant company. Still, despite some unpleasantness with my employer, made obvious by his constant rudeness and larcenous behavior, I did have high hopes that my small fortune would grow and that I might escape the reputation attributed to me." William paused again, this time to drink. He drank long for a moment before continuing. "At first, all seemed well. I was in the company of an old friend and in a profession which drew upon my love of art and my love of the sea. I was very recently...well..." William paused again, and the smile he wore was one of fond recollection mixed with some unnamed bitterness. "...well...my expectations were high." Robert was watching the barmaid again and Paul kicked him under the table. "What? Yes...?" Robert said, and Paul snorted. "Please continue, Cap'n." Paul said, shaking his head at Robert. "Well...the Commonwealth sailed out of port and out through the channel bound for Southern coasts. We were but two weeks from port when Andries announced that he was not obliged to support any agreement made between myself and Bill Ferne...my friend and business partner. Instead, I was to sign a new article of Salade's choosing with a considerable alteration as touching my wages. He offered me shares over wages, which I declined, recognizing that the opportunity for him to cheat me at some future time was greatly increased with shares. Then, he, and he alone, agreed on a wage that was 'fair' and I was made to understand that if I declined the offer, I would be put to sea at once. As you might imagine, I was obliged." There were several nods about the table. Many of them had experienced the fair treatment of a crooked man in their time. It was the balance of life in action. A few men with enough gold to outweigh all of the rest of humanity. "However, the matter was not altogether unpleasant. I found satisfaction in the work and the journey. The many voyages that followed were filled with variety and experiences I will not soon forget. We first made port at Agadir, a place I had all but forgotten from my youth. Whether or not it had changed much, I could not say, for I was far too young when first acquainted with that place. Agadir was bristling with ships from Portugal, France, England, Greece, Spain and the Colonies. Slave ships, trade ships, what have you. We purchased silks, ivory, and all manner of goods from Agadir. Salade eventually took on human cargo. Everything that might be bought, we bought. Well...rather, Salade bought or stole. We were there but a week and I witnessed more piracy in the form of false documents, clipped coins and abject lies than I have witnessed at any other time. Salade was a master of the devious arts. It was there at Agadir that I learned that the Commonwealth herself had been swindled from Salade's former partners. He had all but bankrupted them until they were obliged to let him take her just to be rid of him. In the course of three years I watched him make promises with one face and then scorn with the other. He bought and sold partners with vows, destroying many a merchant in his path until his reputation was such that men would groan and sometimes cross themselves at the mere mention of his name, and yet, as often as I tried to leave his company, he would lure me again with some carefully crafted lie. Even me." William shook his head, not at the memory of Salade exactly, but at his own weakness during that time. So many times he had wanted to strike out on his own and escape the imprisonment of the Commonwealth, but he had believed so many of the lies, and with no supporters to his cause, he had remained and endured. "The worst privations I witnessed came at Caledonia were he plied his serpents tongue in destroying the lives of many a Scotsman out of Isthmus at Darien. That place was a land of spent hopes and they were so eager to clutch to any offered hand. So much need, and he gleaned them like a false parishioner." William's face had grown dark at the recollection. So dark in fact, that not a few of them wished for other conversation, but no one dared to offer a change of subject. "In the end, he made no attempt to cover the lies he told. He was ever spilling falsehoods out of his mouth like so much vomit, with little concern that anyone might dispute him, and like dogs they would lap it up. Eventually, he even took to lying to me and spreading lies of me, until my whole reputation was besmirched by this horrible little man. It was then that I struck out on my own, but not all at once. I purchased a small, but nimble little boat. A Baltic ketch brought over by the Scots." William's face lit a little at this recollection, and by now, everyone wanted to hear what would come next. Even Robert had put off watching the barmaids. "She was a beautiful little boat. Not as large or long as the 'Dog, but a fine little boat. I put together a modest crew and fitted the ketch with all many of arms and comforts. I even managed to lure many of Salade's former partners and some of his previous and ruined customers to join me. Much of this was done in secret over a few months, though Salade knew of the ketch. Indeed, he thought it to his advantage that we should sail together as 'twinned partners in trade'." "What of Bill Ferne...?" Robert asked. "Oh." William said, looking surprised. "I had quite forgotten. Bill Ferne had already left some...eight or nine months previous to this. He acquired a fine little company of his own, so that I became Salade's sole partner." "Was that good or bad?" Mister Pew asked, certain that it was bad. William smiled, "Bad of course, though I thought it good. When Bill left, and I assumed his place, I thought I might benefit from the promotion. With Salade away spending his money on women and wine at all hours of the day, I would be left to command the company and see it rise to become what it should have been all along. But not so. When I approached Salade and postulated my ideas to him, he turned upon me. It seem that all of my confidences. All of my many secrets, dark and hidden. All of the many things I had shared with my friend Bill...well...Bill had in turn shared with Salade." "Bastard." Preston said, and with a good deal of emphasis on the first syllable, so that it came out sounding like 'Baaaasss...turd'. William merely shrugged. "He had his reasons, I'm sure. It doesn't matter. Bill had children and a young wife to consider, and perhaps he was moved to sell my secrets cheap for his own sake. I do not know. I only know this, that Salade had me by the throat." William regarded his own drink for a time and Preston had the opportunity to say 'bastard' again under his breath. "Eventually, when I came to own the ketch I met with Salade. We stood face to face and I carefully explained that I would no longer keep his company. And I we parted. Of course...Salade tried many times to win me back with promises of vast fortunes." William chuckled a little and went back to drinking, only this time he waited on purpose, knowing full well that none of them would be satisfied by this ending. He was not wrong. "And...Cap'n?" Mister Pew prompted. "And...?" William echoed back. "What happ'ned to th' Bastard?" "Ahhh, well I do think I have told you in the past how I came to be a caulker at Amsterdam." "Aye." Pew agreed. "Well, I had some months to plan my departure, including the stripping of many a seam on the Commonwealth." Preston leaned back in his chair and a wide grin spread on his face. William smiled back. "The Commonwealth took on water off the coast of Caledonia and Salade was forced to run her aground in an effort to save her. To my knowledge, she remained aground and was never recovered." "To devious caulkers." Preston said, presenting his cup that all might join in at the toast. Which they all did. "Is tha' th' end o' it, then, Cap'n?" Robert asked, when they all had drunk and refreshed their cups again. "No, Mister Thatcher." William said, with a bit of bemused reluctance. "I wish I could say that the man fell into ruin, but the Salade's of the world always prosper, even when they should fail. I have heard by rumor, and though it be rumor I believe it to be true, that Andries Salade has found new sheep upon which to prey. His end might never satisfy me or you, but being mortal, he will at least perish in the end." "I'll drink to that, Cap'n" Mister Pew said, and they toasted again, then he made a face and regarded William with a questioning look. "Sorry t' press th' point, sah, but you haven't answered my question." "Ahh, yes. How did I come to be aboard the 'Dog. Well, let's see. As I said, I tried my hand as a merchantman. Many of the men and women almost destroyed by my former partner, eventually returned to him." "Nooooo..." Paul said amazed, and then repeated himself once more. "Nooo." "Yeees." William said, and nodded quite empathetically, then shrugged. "Dogs to vomit, Mister Mooney. Dogs to vomit. I was forced to give up the trade eventually. My endeavors, and my ship, almost floundered over the course of the last few years. I sold the ketch and reaped the reward of many losses. I took what little remained and found my way to La Desirade. I had no expectations by this time. No ambitions, apart from rest. I ate when hungry. I slept when tired. I drifted into the company of many a discarded sailor, and eventually acquired the Kate in the process." "Aye." Preston said, and he smiled. "She was...is...the perfect ship." Several eyebrows went up at this, and Paul couldn't help but laugh. William raised an eyebrow towards him as if daring him to explain his descension on the subject. "She's...aground, sah?" "Aye." William agreed. "And this makes her a perfect ship. A fine ship. She will never sink. She'll weather any storm. She is never short of rum and sailors. She is steady. Easy to navigate. Adequately stocked with provisions. Her berth deck is never dark. The air their is seldom foul. Coin comes to her, so she need never go to coin. And if I would not miss the Watch Dog so much, I would be there even now. You might say what you will of the Kate, but when storms have taken the 'Dog, the Tsunami will remain."

Blast. Well, I guess I'll have to shoot for Re-enactorfest IV.

Key Lime Pie...

Nut brown and a reuben. Aye.

"I went about by way of the docks and my legs carried me aboard, Mister Pew." William said, a long, slow smile spreading across his face.

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If you can make it, we'll make sure you get the information you need to make it worth your while.

July 27, 1704 - Ashore at Martinique They watched until the prisoners and soldiers melted against the darkness, then William pulled out the watch from the Heron and consulted the time. He tucked it back into the pocket of his waistcoat and turned to the remaining shore party. "Gentlemen. Let us go together to the nearest tavern or alehouse and sample our rewards. I shall buy the first round in gratitude of your weary watches." "Ayyyye...sah." Mister Pew said slowly and with drawn out enthusiasm. "Very well. You are hereby relieved of duty for the duration of this watch." William continued, striking the end of his cane soundly on the paving stones. "Let us to the mugs be brought." They wandered along the docks and past the occasional lantern. They were watched, and this was not surprising, since they talked as they went. Their English attracted attention from every other window they passed and they were obliged to greet a great number of strangers with a French phrase or two. When they had wandered a ways from the view of the port, they found a small establishment on the corner of two cross streets. It loomed crookedly and it leaned outwards over the street in a way that suggested it was supported entirely by the neighboring shops and it seemed to speak volumes about the inebriation one might achieve with a little coin and a little time. The sign which featured a serving woman and a wealthy, well travelled merchant read 'Le coin des français faveur'. "The Coin of French Favor?" Paul Mooney asked, looking up at the sign. "The...Corner...of French Favor." Claude corrected. "Ahhh." Paul returned thoughtfully, as if he would remember this always. William suspected that he wouldn't remember it past the second drink if he remembered anything at all tomorrow. They went inside. It was a true tavern after the French tradition, and they were favored with the sites and sounds common to alehouses the world over. Voices overlapped in competition for volume until the entire place was filled with the din of ghost stories, anecdotes, bawdy jokes, sad memories, tall tales, political discussions, and all other rhetoric. Songs and stories were everywhere shared at once until the entire breadth of Le coin des français faveur was filled to bursting. Just when it seemed that no additional voice might be heard in such a place, an impossibly thin looking man approached the shore party and greeted them. "Bienvenue, Messieurs." "Bonsoir, monsieur." William returned, as did Claude and the others in varying degrees. "William Brand, Capitaine du chien de garde." The volume of the place decreased almost at once, for the Captain's name was decidedly English, as was his accent. The proprietor's smile expressed surprise, but in the practiced way of all good tavern keepers. For rather than hide any small alarm at having foreigners in his establishment, welcome or not, he exaggerated his emotions, even going so far as to put up his hands in a pantomime of happy surprise. "AAAaaahhhhh, Messieurs! You er most welcome." he said with a pronounced delight which reminded William of something from an earlier time in his life, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The proprietor led them to a table among the curious throng and William ordered a round at once. "A fine place." William said aloud as they waited, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true. "Women..." Mister Pew replied at once, having spied a dark haired beauty across the room. "Aye." Paul agreed, and William smiled to see that Paul could find distraction after such recent grief. The drinks arrived in tall spilling mugs and they each grabbed one up at once. Claude was already drinking when William said, "A toast!" Claude wiped away the froth and laughed a little as he choked. William paused, then said, "to Jean-Baptiste Labat." There was a silence which followed this, for no one seemed to understand the toast at all. "The father of rum." William added. "The father of rum!" they all chorused. Six bells of First Watch

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl takes place in 2003. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest takes place three years later in 2006.

July 27, 1704 - Cul du Sac Royal Mister Pew coaxed the prisoners forward to the bow of the small boat where he might watch them better, or if necessity demanded, shoot them. He laid his musket across his lap and focused on the prisoners with a circumspect eye. William sat aft, taking the tiller for the final transport of prisoners. He guided the boat away from the Maastricht. It curved out across the mild current of the bay as they crossed the inky darkness of the Cul du Sac Royal. The whole expanse of the bay was dark, but for a thousand lights which were still springing up along the docks, piers and buildings along the shorelines. Even the fortress on the rise of the port's Northernmost end shone with the starlight of civilization. They were all quiet as they rowed. Even the prisoners made no conversation, lost in their own thoughts and misgivings. The sound of revelries and night commerce carried from several points across the water. Music, voices, and even a solitary pistol shot drifted out to them, and while a few of the marines smiled at this, none of them spoke. William regarded the constellations of the Caribbean night, familiarizing himself with the North Star in relation to the island. The moon was absent from the sky, having set earlier in the day, and William calculated that the full moon was five or six days away. The docks nearest the fort materialized out of the darkness ahead of them under the glow of the lamps hung along the piers. The activity of the day was diminished, and while the number of soldiers sent down to except prisoners had decreased, there was enough activity along the docks to outnumber the shore party. William steered the small boat against the dock where it thumped gently. Mister Pew was on his feet at once, musket at the ready as the prisoners filed up onto the docks. "This is the last of the prisoners." William explained, as Claude translated. "I present to you Captain den Oven, First Mate Raymer and Doctor Van Zandt." "Bienvenue vers la Martinique, messieurs." the sergeant said, bowing only enough to recognize what the men had been before their capture. "Si vous viendrez avec moi..." Den Oven shot William a look that was all poniards and knives. William gifted him with a look of seeming apathy. He was neither moved to smile or scowl, and this seemed to anger den Oven more than ever. Perhaps the Dutchman thought he deserved some stronger emotion from Captain Brand. Anger. Disdain. Gloating would have sufficed. But this absence of emotion from the younger and deplorable privateer invoked a bitter look from the captain turned prisoner. Only Pew showed any real outward emotion. He smiled at den Oven. It was a small smile, yes, but it said 'What? You were expecting fanfare maybe...?' Den Oven fixed the Master-at-Arms with the same look that he visited upon Captain Brand. Five bells of First Watch ~Larboard Watch on Duty

I am spoiled in my own establilshment, I am. Aye. Spoiled indeed.

Cold December by Matt Costa.

Sorry for the absence on this thread. It was a busy few days and I'm suffering from not a little artistic burnout. Shall I attempt a more period look? I can borrow on the headstones.

Don't throw out the baby with the bathwater.

Aboard the Maastricht at Cul du Sac Royal "Thank you, Mister Pew. No one else could have accomplished the task better. My compliments." "Thank you, sah." Mister Pew returned, and knuckled his brow a second time. William turned to Captain den Oven, Raymer and Doctor Van Zandt. Captain den Oven looked surly, which was not very different from any time before. Raymer looked more the part of Captain, as did Van Zandt, and William had a moment to wish these men had escaped the depravity of prison. This did not keep him from ordering them over into the boat. "Gentlemen, if you please." he said, gesturing to the rail. Mister Pew urged den Oven a little with a nudge. Raymer followed. William held Van Zandt back a moment and handed him an envelope. "I have taken the liberty of writing on your behalf. This letter explains your conduct aboard the Maastricht. It contains my personal observations in regards to the safety and care given to the wounded. Perhaps it will win you some added freedom to administer to the wounded. I cannot say." "Dank u, Kapitein." Van Zandt said, and the tired man managed a smile before going over the rail into the waiting boat. "Orders, sah?" Mister Pew asked, slinging his musket for the trip over the water. "Pick four marines for the journey. We shall go ashore and deliver the prisoners. Then you and I shall see what passes for taverns in this place." Four bells of First Watch ~Larboard Watch on Duty

On the Cul du Sac Royal William returned to the quarterdeck, and seeing the first of the prisoner boats returned, he ordered out the dingy to ferry him the short distance over to the Maastricht. He went as the others had before him, armed with a pistol. He also bore a blunderbuss slung over his shoulder. The business of sorting prisoners was still going on as William stepped aboard the Maastricht. Mister Pew and the marines were cataloging a small cache of confiscated goods as well as a prodigious pile of shoes which had formed amidships. William and Preston exchanged simple acknowledgments and William proceeded aft to the fluyt's great cabin. Doctor Van Zandt and Bartel Raymer were still in command of the surgery set up in the ward room, save for a few prisoners who had proved well enough to go ashore. William made no attempt to catch either man's attention as they worked. Even now, Van Zandt and Raymer were at work on a man who had finally lost his leg to infection. The man showed uncommon valor in keeping his peace as they removed the last bit of bone which connected him to the former limb. William was moved to cross over to the table and lend his limited assistance. Van Zandt looked up from his work only long enough to pass William a bloodied instrument that he had finished with before returning to the work at hand. Raymer and William could do little while the Doctor completed the gruesome business, so they regarded each other across the table as they held the man down. William noted that Raymer was decidedly calm and had probably witnessed his share of amputations in the last few days. "Geëindigd." the doctor said, mopping his brow with the back of his bloodied sleeve. It left a dark smear across his brow and William called out the door for fresh water. "How many more can go ashore, Arts Van Zandt?" The Dutch Doctor seemed not to heat at first, so Raymer reached across the table and touched his arm. Van Zandt looked up, removing his bloodied apron. "Elk van he...pardon. All of them, if I may go vith them." "Of course." William returned. "I will see what provision might be made in regards to your instruments. Perhaps I may persuade them to allow you some medicines and tools." "Dank u, Kapitein." William nodded and went out again onto the weatherdecks. Here he found Captain den Oven, whose appearance had not improved in the sunless cramp of the berth and holds. His hair was disheveled and his stately bearing had disintegrated into something more common. "Kapitein den Oven, you will soon be escorted ashore and delivered into the custody of the French. All of your men will be thus delivered." Den Oven said nothing. "Seems th' darkness gave 'im what 'is title could not. Civility." Mister Pew said, with special emphasis on the last word. 'Civil as an orange', William thought, but his mood for sporting with the Dutch Captain's misfortunes was long behind him. He was just happy to be at port so that he might be rid of the prisoners, and Captain den Oven was no exception.

Well, now, William, be that VICARIOUS enough for ye? The missus was kind enough to share a spot of lip color for me in the lav, then up the stairs we come to find sneaky Pete! BTW - the fine gent standing in with us was NOT her Da', twas her BEAU. Her Da' beat a hasty exit when he saw what we were up to ~ Aye. Vicarious indeed. And precarious. And hilarious. All of the ariouses combined I should think. Thank you, all.

I am craving a strong Middle Eastern cheese and falafel. Isreal is only months away and I can't stop thinking about the food over there. I am very preoccupied of late.

I fine mix of pictures indeed. Thank you for sharing the event vicariously.

You have an excellent start. You can add upon this theme by researching all the important dates which coincide with the places you are or have been. Create a timeline of real events in history which may have impacted you.

William could just make out the strong warnings of the Master-at-Arms from the fluyt amidst his own orders. In the absence of marines, William armed several of the able seamen and ordered Miss Smith to fetch two pistols and a musket for herself. While this was being done, William watched the first of the Maastricht prisoners come over the side and into the cutter. some of them had to be assisted, though this assistance came from their own, for all of the marines stood apart from them with watchful eyes. Mister Pew stood on the Maastricht's larboard rail, one hand on the shrouds and one on his firearm, surveying every captive that went over into the waiting boats. The breeze on the harbor was a gentle one and this kept the water relatively calm. The favorable anchorage off the Savanne was proving to be a good one, though with so many sailors to ferry ashore for leave, William considered moving the 'Dog to Anse Mitane once the prisoners were ferried. "Miss Smith, you have the deck. I'll be in the Ward Room."

Jim Warren ordered the cutter crew over the side and into the waiting cutter. He climbed down and took his place at the tiller as it filled with men and marines. He called out to each man in the boat and ordered each to his proper place along both sides of the small craft. Eric Franklin came down the on board stairway and passed down Mister Warren's personal arms. He also sent down a pistol for each rower, that they might back up the marines at any sign of trouble. Then Eric joined the men at the head of the cutter. Mister Pew did the same on the 'Dog's opposite side, manning the tiller of the jollywatt once every marine was in place and every rower was lightly armed. Added to this was the jollywatt from the Heron and the longboat of the Watch Dog. The jollywatt remained near the cutter while the longboat went to the Maastricht to meet the marines already there.

The Heron's small boat crossed towards the 'Dog and Maastricht and William turned again to Mister Pew. "Assemble your marines, Mister Pew. You may dispose of the prisoners ashore, but keep the senior officers for last. I will go with them ashore at the end." "Aye-aye, Cap'n" "Boatheaders and boat crews to the smallboats!"

On the cul-de-sac Royal Two bells of First Watch The first shore party returned by boat across the cul-de-sac Royal. It was a warm night, and the wind coming from the East carried the sounds of music and the commerce of the night across the bay. This was answered by the bells which came from the Watch Dog, Maastricht and Heron, along with every other boat on the water as the second bell of the watch carried in all directions. The smallboat thumped alongside the 'Dog and the shore party climbed into the frigate's waist. Mister Pew called for his marines at once and William crossed to the opposite rail to send out word to Mister Lasseter. "Success, Captain Lasseter! All's well ashore! Pistols for coin and marines ashore ready to receive prisoners!" There was a short pause as his voice carried to the Heron. Dorian cupped his hands together and called back again. "What orders then, Cap'n?" "Prepare to lower away all the smallboats for the transfer of the captives!"