William Brand

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Seven bells of Mid Watch The Captain and Quartermaster met at the base of the main shrouds, where they stood awhile in conference, discussing the possibilities of this new unknown. This part of the Antilles was rife with sea commerce and so the chance of threat was not a great one. Even if it was a warship, combat was never a forgone conclusion, so, for the time being, they both agreed to be cautious without raising alarm. As for the mystery ship, it was far enough off for the present. It showed no sign of bearing towards them, though her course, and that of the Watch Dog, would eventually intersect unless one or the other altered their bearing. This crossing of course was still hours off, and for the moment, no alteration was made in the bearing of the Watch Dog. Mister Pew arrived while they were discussing a course of action and William informed him of the ship and asked him to begin assembling those men of the Starboard Marines under Mister Franklin. "Already begun, Sah." "Thank you, Mister Pew. It seems fitting to me, now more than ever, that I should meet with the marines." ~STARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY

John pointed to a location as fixed in his mind as Gibraltar. "Just there... Sah. I make it to be a ship of some magnitude. She's far off yet, but already she blots out the stars." He raised his own glass again to be certain he hadn't invited the Quartermaster aloft for nothing. Down below, Mister Morgan put his head in at the galley. He interrupted the Captain and Cook mid-laugh. "Beg pardon, Sah. Lookouts have called the QM aloft." "Oh...?" William said, setting a large mug aside. "Thank you Mister Morgan. Mister Gage." William took up his hat and went out upon the deck. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust. After a time he could make out two men in the main cross tree. Mister Morgan stood close by with his face turned upwards for news from above. "Mister Morgan, please fetch up the Master-at-Arms." "Aye-aye, Sah."

Well, I'm not going to lose the paid trip to Cancun if I guess wrong.

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Between Six and Seven bells of Mid Watch William made his way back to the quarterdeck, but despite earlier vows to avoid extra food from the galley, he was drawn there again by whatever it was that Lazarus was concocting. He was so overpowered by the galley, that he lingered there for some time, swapping stories and compliments with the cook. Meanwhile, high aloft in the main top, McGinty had turned his attention to an unknown point far off in the darkness. He had not witnessed anything amiss there, but the Quartermaster was continuously pausing at the rail, and while John didn't know why, he knew enough to trust the distractions of others. Sometimes a passing observer might witness in a moment, what careful lookouts couldn't perceive by their vigilance. Even Styles was now looking in that same direction, for he had noted a sudden pause in McGinty's humming, which had been steady and continuos most of the watch. He stood and stretched on the fore top, leaning out by use of the topmost shrouds. Then he looked back at McGinty with a questioning shrug, for he could see nothing but sea and stars. John just signaled back with a solitary gesture, pointing upwards at the main cross tree. Moments later he was ascending further up the main with a spyglass tucked into his belt. Once he had reached the small rampart of crossed timbers, he positioned himself as best he could, placing his feet through the crossed pieces of wood which made up the perch and placing his arms through the lift lines. Once he was secure in the wide, inverted pendulum set between the main top mast and the main top gallant mast, he fetched out his spyglass. This instrument of magnification aided him very little at first. All he could find was dark horizon, closer, but no less revealing. He went across the line of the ocean once, twice, then half a dozen times. Jerrod waited below with an upturned face, hoping and not hoping that John would see something. His thoughts and feelings about what could be waiting out there were mixed. Part of him hoped it would be a lumber-some and heavy laden merchantman. Another part of him recognized that it was just as likely to be a warship, for England and The Netherlands were in conflict with Spain and France, and the Watch Dog, so recently in service to the latter, might be drawn into armed conflict. He finally decided that he wanted John to find nothing at all. "Let it be a shooting star..." he whispered to himself in the darkness. John was also whispering to himself. He was chanting the mantra of all lookouts everywhere. "Where...are...you...? Show...yourself..." He repeated this again and again, searching in vain for that solitary speck which had so distracted the Quartermaster to his uneven paces. He was just concluding that nothing of note would be found when he chanced to see something that stopped his spyglass mid-sweep. It was less of an object and more of a hole. The curve of that great belt, The Milky Way, was interrupted along the thin razor edge of darkness that made up the horizon. There, where the stars should have been uninterrupted, but for the curve of the Earth, lay a shadow. It passed between them and the stars beyond. At first it seemed liked little more than the inconstant twinkling of the stars themselves, but they didn't twinkle. Something along the horizon, something just tall enough to reach beyond that curved edge, was blocking out the stars as it moved. "Send the Quartermaster up with his glass." He hissed to the decks below.

I don't remember you ever mentioning Hawaii, though I may be wrong. Also, you may have smuggled weapons in to Canada for an event, so two is probably true. I'm going with 1 and 2.

Gang is such a flexible term.

You're lucky. Now if I could only find a link out of this place. I've been here for years. Welcome aboard.

# 1 is true I was in a Washington Apple commercial with Will Rogers Junior when I was six years old. Since they don't show Washington Apple Commercials in Washington State, I have yet to see the finished commercial. My grandmother and a cousin are the only people I know who ever personally saw it. I recently contacted the Washington Apple Board of Directors, but they don't archive old commercials so I will probably never see it. #2 is false I didn't bury a body in Mexico, I only helped cover it. It was the body of a man who had been ejected from his truck during a roll over accident. His face was utterly destroyed from the impact on the highway. I still remember the brains and teeth on the road. #3 is true While living in Jerusalem we were at the Holy Sepulcre. The Palestinian school next door suddenly flung open all of its doors and a body of protestors poured into the courtyard bearing an open coffin carrying the body of a 14 year old paper boy that Isreali police had gunned down the previous day. Violence insued. Rocks. Shouting. We were able to slip away along the fringes just before Isreali troops began shooting at the crowd. I believe that nine protestors and a few Isreali troops were injured before it was all over. NEXT!

The rules: You post three statements (or longer anecdotes; that can be more fun sometimes) about yourself, two of which are true. People guess which. After folks have been guessing for a while, you reveal it and we see who was right and who was wrong. Then somebody else does one. (And there's no reason not to have several going at once...) Okay, my three... I was in an apple commercial. I buried a body in Mexico. I was in a street riot in Jerusalem.

hmmm...I better get busy. I don't believe we have ever cooked everything.

William made the necessary changes to the list of marines. Then he offered to take them below himself, anxious to see the assignments made during the next change of watch. He gave the deck over to the Quartermaster and went below. The Master-at-Arms and Sergeant-at-Arms were employed in the armory. He found them carefully choosing the best of the muskets and pistols for the new Marines. At first, he didn't disturb them, and only when they noticed him in the shadow of the doorway, did either of them stop to salute. "A very goode list, gentlemen. There are names on here I wouldn't have considered myself, but upon reflection, I can find no fault with them. I have, however, made once change to the Starboard Marines." William passed over the list. Mister Pew read it aloud and they both nodded together after. They looked pleased, and perhaps they had expected some changes, but it spoke well of both of them that one change and one change only had been enough to satisfy the Captain. "I believe, Capn', that we'll have as good a regiment as any majesty." Mister Pew said with confidence. "I don't doubt it, Mister Pew. Good choices, all." "Shall we inform those that were chosen, Sah?" Eric asked. "Bring those of the Starboard Marines to the Ward Room at seven bells. I will speak to the Larboard Marines at the first bell of Morning Watch. You may both be present." "Aye, Sah." They said at once. "And gentlemen. Thank you." July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Five bells of the Mid Watch ~STARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY

"I must insist on McGinty for the Main Top. I should also like Styles on the Fore...and perhaps a less rigid assignment is in order. All of them might benefit from a rotation." "Aye. A rotation may serve better." William nodded, but he had a sudden change of heart then. He left the candidates as they were but for two changes. Harold Press would remain an able seaman only. The man was a steadying factor among the rabble, and William felt it might be better for all if he remained a common sailor with no other distinction. Harold Press didn't require a gun to do good service, or to command order. He was a good man and William thought it best to keep the man as common as possible. A pillar on the berth deck. Instead, he traded Press for McGinty, keeping both Morrel and Tucker. "McGinty for the Main Top. Morrel for the Fore. Dinwiddle and Thatcher for the armory. With Styles, Tucker and Roche for the decks." "Very goode." Mister Lasseter agreed, though he would have agreed with more significant changes. The truth was, many men and women aboard the 'Dog would have made good marines, but Mister Pew and Mister Franklin had chosen a fine list of contrasting sailors, all able to take their new role aboard ship. "These shall be their assigned places aboard ship, with the rotation aloft to be at the discretion of those officers on watch. Have I your approval as well for the Starboard marines?"

William took the list and read it through once, quickly. He always read through lists as fast as possible. He found that he gaged lists best when he skimmed them with a gut reaction in mind. Then he read it through again. This time much more slowly. "Ciaran in the Main Top. Tribbiani in the Fore Top." he said aloud, nodding to Mister Lasseter, who nodded back. "I have no arguments with that arrangement." William paced the full circumference of the quarterdeck. "Bill Flint on deck. Aye. I like a tall man on the gun deck. Any man approaching the 'Dog, seeing a man that tall peering back over the bulwarks...aye. I like that very much." Indeed, William could think of none better for the gun deck duty, for Flint was one of the few men aboard who could easily look out from the waist of the ship. Most of the crew required a step up to see beyond the bulwark rail, but not Flint. Bill Flint also had the advantage of gunnery experience, which made the gun deck duty apropos. "How does our Marchande handle himself with a musket?" William asked. "Well enough for a French cart horse." Mister Lasseter returned, and William smiled at this, for Marchande was strong man. He had never though of him as a cart horse, but the comparison was not a bad one. William nodded. Whether he could shoot or not, he didn't mind a strong man for the marine detail. "And Woodington? I would have thought him wasted on detail." Mister Lasseter shook his head. "Th' lad has steady hands." "What think you of Hingerty in the armory?" "He won't have need of much conversation there." Mister Lasseter had a way of cutting through the abject matters of a man's disposition. William liked that he often came right to the point. William himself had paused at the selection of Hingerty, for the man was ill tempered and had a gruff manner which made him unpleasant at times. Yet, one might find such a man well suited to the duty of marine. Hingerty wasn't likely to take any excuse or guff from a man. Anyone trying to get past Hingerty on watch was likely to come away bloodied. "If you have no argument, the larboard marines are approved." "Aye, Cap'n." William continued down the list. "Main top, Tucker...?" Mister Lasseter said nothing. William was puzzled by this suggestion, thinking McGinty would have been the first choice. He was further surprised by the absence of Styles in the foretop. He continued through the list and back. "Dinwiddle and Thatcher for the armory. That will do fine." He noticed the absence of Nathan Bly on the list and wondered why he had not been considered. Harold Press was a good choice, not for his skills as a soldier, but he was steady. William had noted many times that Harold was quick to step in and end an argument peaceably. Roche was an obvious candidate. The man had a shooter's eye, though William had never seen him shoot. He had witnessed however, that the man had a good throwing arm and uncommonly good aim with just about any missile he employed. Tucker, Morrel and Styles were also good choices, but he didn't like the arrangement. "Whom do you prefer out of Tucker and Morrel?"

July 23, 1704 - Aloft on the Watch Dog Four bells of the Mid Watch John McGinty was as a good a lookout as Ciaran could make him. He was alert and attentive. He was also possessed of a good eye, seldom missing anything that might be seen on a clear horizon. Perils both near and far fell under his immutable scrutiny, and while his record at spotting was not equal to that of 'Eagle Eyes', he had proven a most able and recommended lookout. John prided himself on his accomplishments. He had only just recently been fully tested at La Blanquilla, while the Watch dog had been in the midst of the Apollo's debris field. Here he had proved invaluable in spotting hazards in the frigate's path, and it was understood from then on, if not before, that John McGinty was to be the chief lookout of the Starboard Watch forever after. He hummed softly to himself, though even he barely heard the tune. He wasn't even fully aware that he was humming at all. It was just an underlying sound his mouth was making while he stood in the main top scanning the horizon and the sea for ships or breakers. Jerrod Styles was in the fore top, plaiting a rope to keep himself from falling asleep in the near total darkness. Not that he had ever fallen asleep on a watch. Styles would have sooner run naked through a Quaker wedding party than fall asleep on duty. He was faced forward in the top with his back to the fore topmast. He had his feet planted forward and apart, and he was now quite used to the wide sway of the lookout's roost. The cords of hemp passed through his braiding fingers while his eyes remained on the sea ahead of the ship. He was high enough above the lanterns of the decks that his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness which surrounded all of the sea about them. "White caps." McGinty hissed quietly from the main top behind him, and Jerrod's hands slowed only a moment to watch a lonely wave cresting white in the darkness two points off the Larboard bow. It proved to be nothing. What might have been reef or debris, was nothing more than a high cresting wave of foam and both men returned to silence, but for Jerrod's weaving hands and John's humming. They continued in this fashion, as they always did, passing an occassional whisper in the top rigging.

Welcome to our oft times rowdy corner of the world.

You mentioned undertaker as a separate occupation. I should think it was synonomous. Welcome aboard, Mate.

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog In route to Fort Royal, Martinique "Aye-Aye." William said with a smile, adjusting the Watch Dog in her course with a minor alteration at the helm. The light frigate answered favorably and their course was corrected in short order. Once accomplished, William returned the duty of the helm to Mister Brisbane, opting to make rounds above an below deck. He walked along the gun deck and the fo'c'sle deck in slow strides with his hands behind his back. Then, fetching up a lantern, he went down the fore companionway and wandered through the dim lit berth deck, careful not to jostle the many swinging and snoring hammocks. He made his way aft to the armory where he found Master Pew and Franklin still postulating over their choices for marines. They urged him to remain, assuring him that they would soon arrive at a decision, but William waved them off, telling them that the matter could wait awhile until they were certain of their candidates. Eventually he had paced the decks of each of the 'Dogs many layers fore and aft and he returned to the darkness of the weather decks. Three Bells of the Mid Watch -STARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY-

Nigel Brisbane was still braiding his hair back from his face when he arrived at the helm to find the Captain there. He saluted and fell in at the opposite side of the helm, ready to take over at the Captain's discretion. Mister Badger made one final round before returning to the quarterdeck to inform the Captain and QM that all was well. "Thank you, Mister Badger. We shall see you in eight bells." "Aye, Cap'n." Before he could turn away, the Captain and QM both added their compliments and he smiled a tired smile through a graying beard which appeared more black in the darkness. Then he stopped to pass on the details of the previous watch to Mister Morgan before disappearing below decks.

July 22, 1704 - On the quarterdeck of the Watch Dog Seven Bells of First Watch When Murin was gone, they both made equal observations about her. Both of them had noticed that her past belied a life of much work, poor pay and little freedom. How much her life must have changed, answering now to watches broken by bells and short spells of sleep, surrounded by people who answered, not to social distinctions, but to positions of rank in a lifestyle made all but equal by hard work and freedom. "She needs rest. That hand must mend if she is ever to make full use of it again." Of course what the Captain had said was true, but Mister Lasseter didn't respond. Both of them had seen their shares of laborers, indentured servants, slaves and prisoners. They were the underpinnings of the world. The mud and stone upon which the history of mankind was paved. Neither of them liked the idea very much and neither of them felt the need to talk about it. Instead, the conversation turned to that of Islands. Dorian waxed prolific about the Emerald Isle and William spoke of Pharaoh's Island and Crete. Dorian touched only lightly on the subject of family and William was equally reticent to speak of the Mahdi, but they swapped stories until the seventh bell of First Watch, when William asked Mister Warren if he might take over at the helm for a time. Jim gladly handed over the duty and William allowed him to fetch some cider while he took the helm. William fell into the practiced pattern of Coxswain at once.

Simple. Elegant. I love Shepherd's Pie.

William took her hand as though a surgeon himself, ignoring the woman's natural timidity. He scrutinized the bloodied bandage and then brought her near a deck lantern for closer examination. After a moment he looked up from her hand, raising an eyebrow. "Bloodletting is at the discretion of the Doctor, Miss McDonough." "Cap'n...I..." "We are not at war. Not yet. There may come a time when you will be asked to shed blood for this ship...but over canvas?" he shook his head. "No, Miss McDonough, that will not do. Take yourself to the surgeon, and when you are again repaired, we will speak of repairs elsewhere." -LARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY-

"William nodded. He too could think of several sailors who could describe the flag to her in detail, though one of the flags of France was the antithesis of detail, having no emblem or color. "I think the fleur-de-lis would serve us better than the Bourbon Banner." -LARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY-

"Miss McDonough. When we make Cul de Sac Royal, prudence dictates that we must fly under a flag friendly to France...and I can think of no friendlier flag to France than that of France. However, we have no such flag. As Mister Lasseter has reminded me, we have a flag of Britain and of the Dutch. We also have a very dark flag which would no doubt be greeted with great trepidation. And by trepidation...I mean cannon fire." Mister Lasseter nodded. "It therefore falls to you as Ship's Tailor to make a proper drapeau." -LARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY-

"Yesss..." William said, dragging the word out into a sentence. "I had quite forgotten my initial reasoning behind Miss McDonough's appointment." He called for one of the powder monkeys they used to fetch the various officers. This time it was Patrick Godfrey who came running. "You are looking better, Mister Godfrey." "Better...sah?" "Aye, Mister Godfrey. As I recall, when you came aboard we couldn't see you if stood leeward." Patrick smiled at this, and it was a good smile. A young man's smile. Patrick was easy to like, for he served at every task given him without complaint and excepted tasks that sometimes gave grown men pause. "The cook's been kind t' me, Cap'n." William patted his own midsection thoughtfully. "But IS it kindness, Mister Godfrey? We know so little of Mister Gage. He might prove to be a cannibal, and he but demonstrates some animal husbandry on us all..." Patrick continued to smile and William sent him off after the Sailmaker.

"Aye. We had best teach them the sword before too long. Though it can probably wait until Martinique. It will give the watch aboard a distraction while the other is out playing at dice and debauchery." He smiled a little to think of some of his men and women ashore with too much coin and too much time at their disposal. "Hmmm." The Quartermaster added and he seemed to be thinking the very thing, almost. "Yet...a good crew Mister Lasseter. A very good crew." Dorain agreed with another observation. "Mister Youngblood has made good work o' them who know the cannon." "Aye." William said, nodding. "We're short of gunnery crews, but at the very same time, we are not short of very good gunnery crews."