William Brand

"Some of them have already joined Captain Lasseter aboard the Heron." William added, curious to see what effect this news would have on the Dutch captain. "English. Perhaps...Irish..." he began, but William was already shaking his head. "Vat have you bribed dem with, I wonder." "Life." William said, chasing the cook's fine cooking with wine. "And fortunes. They know what it is to be a privateer rather than a prisoner. I need not explain it to them." "I believe dat you mean pirate." Lazarus Gage was never one to waste food, but he was never more moved to pour hot gravy into anyone's lap as he was now. To speak in corrective terms to a host was as unseemly to the cook as was any man who refused good food offered in polite company, and den Oven was doing both. Mister Gage's food continued to go uneaten before den Oven, and the cook was compelled to help the Dutch captain to a scalding second helping where it might do the most good, but since William himself kept his patience in check, Lazarus simply made his rounds. Bartel Raymer made an attempt to steer the conversation into more general avenues. He made a point to compliment the cook's many dishes, and indeed, they were genuine compliments. Agreeable echoes came from all quarters, except for den Oven, who only sipped the wine. Joseph Aretineson was on his second glass of the evening, and it was serving him well by dulling the pains and aches he had sustained earlier. Mister Lasseter was kind enough to refresh his glass.

"Aye, but I'll take foul weather. Foul weather over defeat. It was a good day to die, but a better day to live." As he said this, those officers of the fluyt arrived at the gang plank which spanned the distance between the Maastricht and the Watch Dog. The guest list included Captain den Oven, First Mate, Bartel Raymer and the Master Gunner, Joseph Aretineson, with only Mister Lasseter to represent the concerns of the Heron . William greeted each of the men in turn, introducing his Quartermaster as the newly appointed Captain of the Heron as they came aboard. Then William gestured for each man to sit at their respective places at the temporary table. Captain den Oven looked about, and surprised by what he saw, he begged a question. "This is not as private as I had hoped it would be . Might ve discuss our arrangements in more private surroundings, Kapitaine?" William shook his head. "The determination of your bow chasers makes this impossible for the present, Kapitaine, and for the time being, you will find that our gun deck is just as airy as our ward room. As to privacy, nothing you say may not reach the ears of my crew. I answer to them as much as they answer to me." Captain den Oven did not look pleased at this and he remained standing longer than the other guests. However, as William and Dorian remained standing also, allowing for the long silence to continue while they waited for him to sit, den Oven eventually acquiesced and took his seat. Lazarus Gage himself served at table. He brought out dishes favorable to the palettes of English and Dutch alike. This favor showed on their faces as they began to eat, and with the day's business, everyone was hungry, captive and captor alike. Everyone seemed grateful for the food, especially those who might soon dine in darker places. Captain den Oven did not eat. He seemed as uncomfortable now, as he had on the gun deck among the wounded. The man looked profoundly distracted, so William gave him leave to speak his mind. "How shall you dispose of us, Kapitaine." he asked with an air of formality. "I shall deliver the Masstricht as prize at Martinique. The French there shall dispose of you how they may. Perhaps you will be returned to the Dutch as a courier for weightier matters. Perhaps you shall languish in prison for a time. I cannot say how they might treat you, sah." "And my crew?" "In a likewise manner, I am sure. Please. Eat. Mister Lazarus serves a fine dish." Captain den Oven continued with his inquiry, ignoring the fare before him. "And the Heron?" William was about to serve himself, but he put his fork down again. "Mister Lasseter shall sail with her to Martinique. It may be that we shall sell her a prize there, though I might prefer the company of a second ship when I go to Trinidad to investigate some holdings of ours located there. And...Mister Lasseter might not wish to give her up by then." William said with a smile towards Dorian. "Shall ve all go to prisons then?" den Oven persisted. "That eventuality should not have escaped any who serve in war." William said, a little impatiently, for his own food was growing cold out here in the open. "One who is willing to die for one's country should be willing to languish, but to answer your question...No. Not all of your men shall go to prison at Martinique. I require replacements." "You vill have none." den Oven said, sounding astonished at the idea that any Dutchman would serve under an all too recent enemy. William exchanged a look with Dorian.

William excepted the Master-at-Arms' reason for departure to duties, and Mister Pew was not the only one to decline the invitation to table. Duty would also keep away the Doctor and Bosun. There was too much work yet among the wounded men and wounded ships to draw either of them away from their callings. William understood this, and made certain to inform the galley that food should be brought to all members of the 'Dog at their respective stations on the Heron and Maastricht. Then he went to his quarters, to assess the damage there. Apart from the officer's head and the ward room itself, his narrow sleeping space was untouched. The windows were almost entirely intact here, but for a few cracks. His belongings had escaped unharmed and he was able to bath his face and hands at the water basin within his small room. He changed into a fresh shirt, breeches and stockings. He fetched his coat from the Ward Room and spent time dusting off the splinters of glass and wood. His cutlass had been thrown clear from the blast and it seemed unharmed. He put it away in trade for his mortuary sword. Then, taking up his hat, he went up to the quarterdeck to await the arrival of the Dutch and English officers.

The funeral finished, William sent the men and women of the 'Dog back to their respective labors. He now turned his thoughts to negotiations and the dispensement of duties touching on the officers of the two prize ships. He would have to decide what would be done with all and when. He reminded those officers, previously invited to dinner, to consider the invitation weighed against the work to be done. Neither of them was required at supper, but could join him and the Dutch if they wished. Then, he walked to the waist of the ship where Miss Smith was finishing preparations for the promised dinner. William examined the table, and found it well prepared for their guests. He thanked the Steward and invited her to join them there for dinner if she wished to be served rather than to serve. "Your service today certainly has earned you a respite from the labors of table."

With the Dutch dead buried, William turned to den Oven and Raymer. He reminded them of his 'destroying angels' aloft and said that he would brook no treachery while he saw to his own. Then William called for the marine captains to alter the lookouts aloft, so that Miss Tribbiani might be employed on the deck of the 'Dog. All the hands of the Watch Dog who where not employed in guarding the Maastricht were ordered over to the Watch Dog to see the fallen off. As they gathered, William fetched his copy of Tyndale from his quarters and returned to the quarterdeck to stand with Mister Lasseter. When all were assembled, he took out the book and thumbed to a page in Psalms, as had den Oven. Then, after a moments thought, he set the book aside. There were just too many denominations, too many different men and women aboard the 'Dog, for one translation to be adequate for all. Instead, he looked out over the gun deck and began. "Where is the number of our English dead...?" He asked, and he waited for the phrase to find its way into the memories of those who would understand it. Bill Flint nodded at once from his place among the ranks, as did a half dozen or more. "I am as Henry was in the field of Agincourt, for a boy lies dead among the luggage and another man has fallen also." William paused again for a moment looking down at the shrouded shapes which had been mortals before, then he continued. "And, but for these two too precious dead, we are left almost unscathed, while the Dutch and English, recently heavy with departed, have been greatly diminished. Seldom have so few...sacrificed so few...to gain so much at once. As Captain, I may only hope that our future taxation...this dreadful, auspicious tithe...will be as kind to us when even greater numbers are assembled against us." William chose to leave the quarterdeck then, for he found he did not like the elevation of it, for den Oven had made such a platform seem vile for the present. Instead, he went to stand between the two hatches which bore Thom and Lawrence and he spoke of them there. "Lawrence was a man of no guile, except that which was asked of him when pressed to a cause. I never witnessed any hurt of him. He was strong and of good character. His manner was inviting to any not possessed of witlessness. Like Paul, many would have called him brother, and I should have know him better had time permitted." "Aye." Paul added, unable to keep from interjecting this amen of his own. William continued. "Thomas Fitch was a young man, not yet old enough that any fault might have been found in his character, though I believe that time would have made him as good a man as any and better than most. He was brave for a youth and like a new star...he burned brightly." William smiled as he said this, for he had been fond of Thom. The young Fitch had demonstrated a curious and eager nature. He had been a wellspring of questions from the day he came aboard and few aboard had escaped his many inquires. "Do we all holy rites..." William continued, borrowing from the Bard a second time, and he turned towards Miss Tribbiani and Miss McDonough. "Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum". Both women were unprepared for this and the two of them hesitated for a moment, but only a moment, for neither of them new the words to either song. Treasure realized it was not so important and she started with another of her own choosing, followed by Murin. Soon they were singing a song from Old England which most of the company knew and the music was as it had been before. Beautiful. William nodded as they sang, and Paul Mooney bent to the ear of his departed friend and whispered some private words, and whether it was a prayer or farewell, no man could say. When the song was over they sent off the fallen and the sun followed them below the waves.

William returned the nod to Dorian from where he stood on the Maastricht as he waited for the dutch officers to assemble. Captain den Oven was first to arrive, having lent little if any help to the wounded. He seemed relieved to be on the quarterdeck again, even as a prisoner, for it was his element. He had little or no understanding of anything below that elevation and William found the man again unlikable. Still, William was cordial out of respect for the man's office. He made a place for the Dutch officer as the First Mate made his way up to the quarterdeck. "Gentlemen. Your dead and living are assembled. Please see to your own with speed. You may have the quarterdeck for oration. Then, to the sea with your dead. We shall see to ours after." Den Oven was just as formal in his return, thanking Captain Brand for the opportunity to dispose of his dead with dignity. Den Oven went to the rail then with all of the ceremony of office and called out for attention. Those able to stand, did so, coming to attention at various parts of the ship, mostly forward. Mister Pew and Mister Franklin allowed the prisoners to enjoy a limited movement out of respect for their mourning, but no more. No prisoners, apart from those who had come over from the Heron, were allowed to go down into the waist. The few remaining officers of the Heron still alive gave over their duties to dispose the dead to den Oven. William passed a look or two to all of his officers scattered about the Maastricht to render their silence for the time being and Rummy's crew ceased their tinkering at once. Captain den Oven requested the use of a bible and one was granted to him from the Maastricht's ward room. He turned the all too recently dog eared copy to a passage from Psalms, which he read aloud. First Mate, Bartel Raymer, was conscientious enough of those English subjects aboard to translate as he went. "De HEERE is mijn Herder, mij zal niets ontbreken." "De LORD is my shepherd; I shall not vant." "Hij doet mij nederliggen in grazige weiden; Hij voert mij zachtjes aan zeer stille wateren." "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still vaters." And so they went, one following the other until they had passed in echoes through the 23rd Psalm. Then den Oven motioned for the first body to be brought forward to the rail. The name of the dead was passed to him and he again began to speak with carefully practiced ceremony and again Bartel Raymer echoed him in English. "Lord God, by the power of your Word you stilled the chaos of the primeval seas, you made the raging waters of the Flood subside, and calmed the storm on the sea of Galilee. As we commit the earthly remains of our brother Tymen Sanders to the deep, grant him peace and tranquility until that day when he and all who believe in you will be raised to the glory of new life promised in the waters of baptism. We ask this through Christ our Lord. R. Amen." The amen was solemn, but as well pronounced from the whole company, even among the wounded, as any 'aye-aye'. The hatch was tilted up and Tymen slipped from beneath the flag which shrouded him and his hammock. The splash followed hard upon and the next body was borne to the rail. Tymen Sanders was followed in death by Koris Matthys, Robert Clemming, Peter Norsk, Hans Barhydt, Harmon Wetherwax, Arnoldus Schermerhorn, Richard Carver and many others. One after another they went into the sea with an amen until all were gone. William had time to wonder then how many more wounded would join them by morning.

William nodded, rolling his shoulder a bit, for the wound from many weeks back was troubling him a bit this evening. He also flexed his hand gingerly under the new bandages. "If you are ready, Captain, we'll bring your prisoners and undeclared men over to the Maastricht now to witness the burial of their fallen. Have the dead borne across by the prisoners. I will take word to the Dutch officers."

"I'll speak with all the prisoners together on the matter signing aboard once they are moved to the Maastricht. We'll offer them places among us on all three ships. I imagine that many will take to us rather than be taken in by French jailers. Until then, you may take any man at his word...but arm no new recruits for the present." Patrick Godfrey rushed up to them then. "Beg pardon, Sah. Mister Badger says the for topmast an' fore top gallant is lashed in at the fore mast, Sah. He says he c'n set a fore top there, if you want 'im to, Sah, but she'll be dimish..dinimis..." "Diminished...?" William offered. "Aye, Sah. Diminished, Sah." "You may inform Mister Badger that he need not waste the Master Carpenter's efforts on a lookout for the fore. We'll double the marines aloft on the main." "Thank you, Sah." "Have him report to me when the yards are placed, Mister Godfrey." "Aye, Sah."

With the dead prepared aboard the 'Dog, ready to go down to the depths of their watery graves, William ordered all able seamen not employed aboard the Watch Dog to clear the debris from the Ward Room or gather at the galley to assist Mister Lazarus. The Ward Room was still a dismal wreck of glass and splinters and the galley was undermanned to feed three crews at once. Those gunnery crews which had cleaned the aft gunnery compartment were sent in to clean it again. All other sailors were sent to fetch and carry for the cook. This done, William crossed to the Maastricht to examine the work there. Her found that much of the repairs necessary to move her would go on into the night, so he continued to the Heron where he found her repairs all but complete. Once there, he and Mister Lasseter conversed on the subjects of repairs, funerals and prisoners. It was decided between them that the Heron would be moved away from the 'Dog and Maastricht to stand guard over the two ship once the dead were all sent off. "A watchdog for the Watch Dog", as William put it. It was also agreed that the English cutter should be unencumbered by troublesome prisoners, so that she might guard the small navy with greater ease. All of the prisoners would be brought aboard the fluyt. This would allow the galley help to serve all of the prisoners at once and employ more of the marines on one ship. "Mister Badger shall have the Maastricht, with Rummy to advise him as they go. In this way they may both alter the fluyt as needed without the need to answer to any other officer. I'll send them Mister Pew or Mister Franklin. One or the other shall have charge over the marines to guard the prisoners and the charge over the gun deck there. What say you?"

"Hmm." William said, already rolling back the sleeve of her shirt. The closer he came to the wound, the more the cloth refused the skin. It peeled back slowly from the red and angry area, and while it wasn't a large wound, it was not small either. Fresh blood filled the injury once the linen was peeled away, and William let it run a little before he fetched water to the wound. Once rinsed, he covered it over with a clean dressing and bound it enough to keep it from bleeding too much again. She winced a little as he worked, but no more than any patient. Most of the time was taken up by conversation, for she seemed anxious to speak, and energetic for one that had fought, bled and worked all in the same day. She regaled him with small talk on the subject of bloodshed and boarding actions. He was surprised enough by a few of her observations and fragmented anecdotes that he stopped to listen more than once. This was not the first or even the second significant engagement of her young life, and like many an eager storyteller, she was glad to have an attentive audience. "I'm uncertain whether those wounded men who survived your assault today will be anxious or hesitant to speak of it." William observed as he finished the last of the bandage. "Imagine their reluctance. How will they begin a story that concludes at the feet of a woman of seemingly small stature?" "Small stature...?" she returned. "Seemingly small." he repeated, smiling. Then he changed places with her so that she might dress his hand better than he had done on the Maastricht. She peeled away the dark cloth that Mister Pew had given him, and where it had been red before, it was now almost black with blood. Once removed, it revealed a cut that opened the second knuckle of his hand and ran just behind the first knuckle. It was not a deep cut, but the constant use of his hand in action and in conversation had kept the wound open. The scar would probably be a small one if the next few days allowed it time to heal properly, but no serious damage was done to the function or form of his hand. While she bandaged it, he chose to pass the time as she had, choosing conversation about injuries past. Most of his anecdotes touched on his hands, for a life at sea had left many small scars and whirls in his fingers. There wasn't a sailor aboard that didn't bear at least one profound scar on his or her hands, and William's hands were no exception, but several of his stories were unique enough in geography and content, that Tudor stopped to listen as William had before. "The day is going." she observed when she was almost done, and William nodded. "Thank you, Miss Smith. Let a light supper be prepared by Mister Gage and we shall have it under the stars when the dead are buried. Ask Mister Lasseter to join us. Mister Badger, Mister Pew and Miss Fitzgerald may join us if they feel they can come away from other pressing matters. Otherwise, food may be brought to them at their posts." She returned her thanks mingled with and 'Aye-aye' and went off to the galley to pass along the first of her orders. William went to the quarterdeck to watch the progress of the repairs. He found that the Watch Dog had already been heavily tithed over the last half an hour as she gave up her spare hemp to the Maastricht and the Heron. Cables and lines of all lengths had gone over the neighboring bulwark rails to strengthen the crippled Maastricht and restore the Heron's rigging. Rummy and Jacob were still being brought to task with the fluyt, for the fore mast was shattered just below the fore top. The mast could not be repaired here at sea, but between the Master Carpenter and the Bosun, they were rigging a shorter fore by lashing the fore top gallant to the remaining trunk of the previous fore mast. This allowed them a fore of stunted height, but sufficiently tall enough to employ somewhat weakened stays, and redundant ones at that. It also allowed them one sail on the truncated fore and a jib forward to the bowsprit. It was not the Carpenter's prettiest work, but the bosun agreed it would be adequate to move the Maastricht. Meanwhile, Mister Lasseter had enjoyed much greater success aboard the English cutter, for far less wood was damaged there and the mast which supported all of the rigging was still intact. Repairs there were decided a rope at a time, for some where lashed and braid into one another, while others were replaced entirely. Most of the principle ropes which supported the strain and weight of the sails, where traded out for spare line off the 'Dog, but a great many others were spliced together in as many as eight or nine places. Mister Morgan was no happier about this there than Mister Badger was about the fluyt's mast, but both men were also as satisfied that they would be able to wrangle these diminished sails into port. The reports which came to him from the weather decks of both prizes pleased him greatly, for he was anxious, now more than ever, to bring his fortunes into port.

The gravy was divine and Tracy made her first homemade pecan pies. The pies were sooooo good.

"What did you need Captain?" She shot a smile across the room as she asked. "This is not about what I need at all. You have done enough today, in battle and in the aftermath, and you are absolutely relieved from duty for the present." His face was serious, but not angry. He brushed glass away from the stern bench and gestured for her to sit down. "The Doctor is presently employed with wounds more mortal than yours, but I won't have my Steward laboring with wounds untreated. That injury needs dressing until the Doctor can see to it." William looked down at his own hand. "As does mine."

Mmmmm...gravy.

They spoke a moment on the subject of new recruits, agreeing to except a limited number of the captured crews to work among them as probationary sailors. The work about them required it. Unseen threats over all four horizons required it. Losses aboard ship and recent departures required it, so they parted in understanding. William to his charge. Dorian to his. William returned to the 'Dog and went to the Ship's Steward. She stood working at the waist alongside a half dozen hard working and tired crew members. Several of them wore their cuts for the day. Many of them would be wearing those cuts for a lifetime. Tudor was no exception. "Miss Smith." Tudor brushed a loose strand of hair back from a face and straightened with a tired smile. William marveled that she should be working, for the blood he had failed to see on her earlier was greater now, and she seemed to work without an awareness of her injury. She somehow managed to look alarmingly immortal and fragile then in ways William couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was her youth, balanced on the cusp between what came before and all the years that might come after. She was at that age between dreams of future expectation and longing, but before that age when all beg to forget what they have seen. "Cap'n." she said with a liveliness that escaped the fatigue, ready to receive her next errand. William turned to the Bosun. "Mister Badger, you have the deck." Then he gestured to the passageway leading aft. She went ahead of him towards the Ward Room, but William paused to put his head in at the surgery. Tempest was standing at the table within and her face was a silent operation of calm as she worked. She was stitching up a rather nasty looking cut on Owen, who looked a little glassy from rum. Still, Owen managed a strangely companionable smile and William found that he couldn't help but smile back, because he had never known Owen to grin like this. It was the smile of a bloodied man in the aftermath of a battle when he has come to the realization that his hurts are enough to make him feel alive, but not so much to make him dead. William and Owen exchanged a nod and Tempest turned to the Captain. She began to speak as he crossed the room to her, but when he placed an arm around her shoulders for a moment and gave her the smallest of kisses on the side of her head, whatever she had been about to say stopped on her lips. She regarded him half a moment with an unasked question on a raised eyebrow. William gave her the smallest of smiles in answer and whatever either of them was thinking went unsaid. Then William picked up some strips of bandages and went out again, gesturing again for Miss Smith to go ahead of him to the Ward Room.

Welcome aboard, Captain Rice.

William smiled a little and allowed himself a moment to collect himself there in the sun. It felt good to stand and do nothing for a moment. The Heron rubbed against the Maastricht. The two drinks in his guts burned and awoke him from fatigue and spent strength. His hand burned a little less then. William removed his hat and turned to Mister Lasseter and spoke those words coveted by men of sea and action. "The ship is yours, Mister Lasseter." "Cap'n." Mister Lasseter returned with a smile as genuine as William had ever seen on him. "Cap'n." William said back to him, and they clapped arms in Roman fashion. William didn't even mind the pain this awoke in his hand. "You may have Mister Brisbane for your coxswain and Mister johnson for your gunner. I'll have Mister Badger send over a hand picked man for the bosun."

I wouldn't mind an open invitation to your house every year for the holidays.

William drained the glass as his eyes fell on the bodies wrapped amidships on the Watch Dog. This sobered him a little from his toasts, yet in this reminder of loss he had cause to revel, for the 'Dog had lost two only against many and William had cause to remember a King. "None else of name..." he thought to himself, and then, "...and of all other men but five and twenty..." "Cap'n...?" William smiled at Dorian, for he had thought to have only said this last part in his head. "Nothing, Mister Lasseter. I must see to this hand of mine and to our dead. I leave the business of the Heron to you, unless you would have the Maastricht for the trip to Martinique...?"

William nodded as he took up his cup again. He too could not remember all that had passed in those moments during the boarding. Whole moments seemed lost. A few significant details had found root, but not many. One such memory, well sowed and alive in his mind, was that of Tudor Smith cutting through Dutch to strike the Maastricht's colors. "One may be certain, that the unknown boarder shall have but one share of added prize. For the other goes to the Ship's Steward." and he nodded toward the 'Dog's waist, where the brave Steward was now employed in the less glorious task of clearing the bloodied beach of sand there. "She did us good service."

"Ahh, McGinty. Aye. And if memory serves, Miss Tribbiani had the second sighting." William said, looking towards the 'Dog's fore top. "Let it be remembered then. McGinty shall choose first from among the pistols or small arms of the fluyt, and Miss Tribbiani, the Heron." Miss Lasseter nodded, already refreshing the Captain's glass. "McGinty might have a pistol to rival that of Ciaran's, bought before the mast." William said, still admiring the timepiece, then he looked at the Quartermaster and asked another question. "What man or woman first crossed over to the Maastricht?"

"Weeeellll. Here's a pretty thing." he said through a wide smile, and indeed it was. So pretty in fact, that William set his glass aside to examine it with more careful hands. He was absorbed by it for a time as he turned it over and over in his hands. "Prizes within prizes." This reminded him of other matters he had not yet had time to consider. The Maastricht and Heron were now officially prizes of war and both of them could be measured out in shares. The ship's articles dictated the distribution of these share, most of which were assigned by rank and file, but some lots fell to the lookouts and the boarders for bravery and forthright attention to their duties. "Mister Lasseter, remind me again, to which man goes the reward of first sighting the Maastricht?"

William went aboard the Heron for the first time. She was an elegant little vessel. She was a third shorter than the 'Dog in length along her waterline, but her fore and aft rigging was longer stem to stern than the frigate. It was obvious by design that she was built for speed and modified for war. The creature comforts of space and privacy found aboard the 'Dog, no matter how limited, were almost absent here. This ship, this English cutter, was built to fight and hem in the enemy. Apart from her rigging, she bore a good share of guns and swivels. Her great guns were many for her size, but it was the swivels which caught William's attention. The volume of them was great, and had not Mister Brisbane taken his fortuitous shot with the stern chaser, the might have known significant havoc from the Heron's murder guns. "Some of them have not been discharged." Mister Lasseter noted as he met William at the Heron's waist. "Aye, we'll leave them charged for the present. Have Mister Pew remove some to the Maastricht's quarter and fo'c'sle. "Aye, Cap'n." "And now that we are together on the Heron, I'll take that second toast."

I like that one alot, and to tell you the truth, I never have to read your name, because the moment I see your flag I know it's you. The same goes for Bill Flint and Captain Jim. I will probably change my avater back to my ensign sometime soon. Why, thank you sir! And I must tell you, I got the idea from your dog skull! I like horses (I have two) and I have a real horse skull I used as a model. But, your flag was the inspiration. Thank you, Ransom. Have you begun a large scale version of your ensign?

That is a nice kit.

I like that one alot, and to tell you the truth, I never have to read your name, because the moment I see your flag I know it's you. The same goes for Bill Flint and Captain Jim. I will probably change my avater back to my ensign sometime soon.