William Brand

I like the skull and crossbones pillar cap. I noticed it before all else.

Is it worth what? When it comes to bad weapons, I have to be blunt. No pun intended. A poorly made weapon is an insult. Poor weapons are not weapons at all, they are props, and to bend so far as to call that a prop is still a blasphemy to Hephaestus. My opinion in some matters is not subtle.

"You have the ship, Mister Lasseter." They all went over the side and down into the boat. First Murin followed by Tudor. Then William, who was followed by Nathan Bly. They all joined Bill Flint, Claude Marchande, Andrew Smyth, Nigel Brisbane, Paul Mooney and Lawrence Dinwiddle already in the cutter, and Patricia seemed at once crowded and empty as they moved away from the frigate. The small boat moved at speed across the water for the wind was fair and the water was perfect for sailing. Despite the errand of the party, William enjoyed the fleetness of the cutter. The wind felt good, and compared to the sometimes crowdedness of the 'Dog, it was a fresh afternoon. William chanced to look about at the faces of the cutter crew and found that all of them seemed of two camps. They were of course, understandably sober, but also content to be on the water with no other requirements but the farewell of a virtually unknown woman. Some of them might have been in a reflective mood, but most of them watched the island slip by as they were carried past reefs and beaches. William noted that Murin did not wear the earrings of the late Lady Ana, but t was also apparent that she might not have ever worn such adornments, for her earlobes looked untouched. Some curious birds circled the boat, and looking back at the Watch Dog, William noted that the rigging had drawn a great many varieties of them. The island supported a surprising number of birds, fish and small life. He found himself wondering if cattle of any kind might take to this place, deciding that goats might be best suited for the harsh flora. "The mind does wander" he thought, as the second bell of the First Dog Watch peeled across the water from the 'Dog.

"No, Mister Pew. Not today." William borrowed the QuarterMaster's glass to follow the progress of the longboat. They were heavy laden and riding low in the water, but the day was calm and they made their way easily enough. "Thank you, Mister Lasseter." He said, passing back the glass. "When they return for a second load, send them again with six or seven empty casks. The sand of this place is of a good quality and we may require some for the surgery."

The Captain made his way forward to the galley. Here he collected enough food to stall his later hunger, chasing it down with a glass of strong alcohol, which the cook supplied from the hidden bottle cabinet. William smiled at this, for he had been all but certain that Lazarus would find given enough time in these close quarters. Lazarus poured himself a drink and raised a silent toast, which William answered in silence. Then he stood up and gathered his hat as well as himself. "My thanks, Mister Gage. Very fine fare as always." *"Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers," Lazarus said with a grin. William nodded with an appreciative smile. "Aye." William made his way out to the gun deck where he found the crew departing the rigging. He watched the last of them retreat from the ratlines as he turned up the stairs leading onto the Quarterdeck. Here he found the QuarterMaster and Steward. William removed his hat in an appreciative gesture, bowing a little to Miss Smith as he did so. "Charming." *From Romeo and Juliet

July 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog first bell of the First Dog Watch William finishing buttoning his waistcoat, careful to straighten his sleeves and collar. He slipped on his baldric, placing the newer mortuary sword in the frog where his weathered cutlass usually sat. The irony of the sword's name did not escape him as he did this. A knock came at the Ward Room door as the Steward was helping William into his coat. "Enter." Bill Flint entered the Ward Room, hat in hand. "Begging your pardon, Cap'n. The Quartermaster sends his compliments. They're prepared to lower the bower and the cutter crew is at the ready with Patricia." "Very good, Mister Flint. Please inform Miss McDonough of our near departure. I shall be on deck presently." "Aye, Cap'n." "And ask Mister Badger to select three other sailors to join you in the surgery for the purpose of bringing Lady Ana's body amidships." Mister Flint's face changed only a little, and he nodded. "Aye, Sah."

I was at the computer at work when my wife called and told me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I turned on the radio and within a few minutes the second plane hit. I just sat and listened as the radio spilled out updates. After a time the UPS guy arrived and I asked him if he had heard. He just shrugged and said, "We deserve it. We've been doing it to other people for years." Just like that. He said it without any regard for the loss of human life. I had to walk out of the room. Then I found that walking out of the room was not enough. I left work. I didn't ask for permission, I just left. I went home and watched the images on television for two hours before going back. Then I told everyone there to take turns going home and watching the events unfold. It couldn't be explained. They each left one at a time and only some of them came back to work the same day. The full shock of it hit me three days later when I saw this fireman break down and hug a fellow fireman as he ried to describe the loss of seven friends. I still get worked up thinking about the firemen. I have four friends that fight fires. For almost two days I couldn't get a hold of a friend in New York who worked in Tower Two. He was not killed. We learned that he had called in sick the morning of the attack and a coworker of his had agreed to go in his place. His coworker died.

July 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Between eight bells of the Afternoon Watch and first bell of the the First Dog Watch Chanault made his way forward and then up to the quarterdeck. He was forced to wade nimbly through the retiring watch and the new watch as they gathered at the galley for food. Once free of the throng, he appeared before the Quartermaster to inquire after clothing for Miss McDonough. The Frenchman fully expected that Mister Lasseter would direct him to the slop chest where he would find many oversized garments, but he was surprised to learn that a previous female crew member had departed the ship at La Margarita, leaving behind several changes of clothing, including one pair of very worn shoes. Chanault had never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Swan, but appreciated that her loss would be Murin's gain, provided that they were of a similar size. He went immediately to the slop chest and there procured two shirts, one worn and repeatedly dyed, and the other a decent shirt which showed little signs of use. He also found two decent pairs of slops, though he couldn't be certain that either pair had belonged to the former Miss Swan. The shoes too were found within, and the Quartermaster had not understated their age. They were well worn. Still, they would serve as well as the ones already in Murin's kit, and she might prefer shoes for work until they came again to shore. Chanault, ever the man of prudence, returned to the surgery to ask after her other needs. At first, she couldn't think what these might be, but with careful prompting he stirred up ideas of personal effects and sundries necessary to a sailor. When he was quite satisfied that they had thought of everything she might need, he returned to the Berth deck to barter and trade for those things he might get with the coin he had coaxed from her. He proved a frugal and able barterer and when he was finished he had purchased or traded his way to a decent collection of personal affects. The Ship's Tailor was surprised to say the least, for when Chanault laid out the items, she found herself to be the proud owner of a fine, though eclectic kit. It containted one sturdy, silver brush that was tarnished to the point that it resembled iron more than silver, one wooden comb carved with a pilot whale on one side, three stitching needles,two spools of fine linen thread; one white, one blue-grey, a sailor's knife with an ivory handle covered in a spidery filigree of tiny fish, and one dark brown waistcoat with brass buttons that was two sizes too large. Chanault raised the waistcoat and declared with a very sober expression, "Your first battlefield as Tailor, jeune dame." Murin was flustered past thanks, and made even more so when he produced the change left over from his bartering and placed it on the pile. "Thank you." she managed as he went out, then she attempted a more appropriate 'Merci', but it came out sounding more like 'merde-sea', but Chanault showed no signs of smiling as he nodded and closed the door, leaving her to handle her new wardrobe and belongings.

Contrapposto is the word of the day, Mister Straw, but that particular pose has become such a token look for you. Your own signature style. The knuckles of one hand placed high above the hip with the elbow turned out sharply. The chin, always raised slightly. One foot turned smartly outward, with the other in parade formation, falling in behind. The tankard raised, neither too high, nor to low, as if in pause or regard. Don't knock it. You have a token look, and a fine outfit to boot I might add. Aye. The Archangel crew is looking very grand indeed.

I am very interested. I need buckles for the shoes I plan to get in October, so let me know when you have them. I may want two pairs in anticipation of future shoes as well.

"My apologies...sah, but Martinique..." He tried, failing and trailing off again. James never wanted to return to duty more than he did now. He had once taken a dozen lashes and would gladly take them again in place of this self proclaimed torture. "Mister Whiting, should you find that you remember why you..." Mister Lasseter began, and James interrupted, taking hold of this unfinished statement and the opportunity it implied. "Sorry, Sah. I shall return to duty at once."

James Whiting watched the Quartermaster change places with the Captain and he took this opportunity to make his way aft. He waited until the Quartermaster looked his way before asking permission to speak with him, and the Quartermaster gestured for him to come up to the quarterdeck. "Is there a problem, Mister Whiting?" "No. No, sah." Whiting hesitated long enough that Mister Lasseter was forced to begin the conversation again. "Mister Whiting...?" "Sah...I cannot speak...French." He said quietly, and his voice almost trailed away as he said it. James had not taken the time to fully consider how foolish this might sound, and now having said it, he wanted to go back to work without a word. Unfortunately, now that he had asked for the Quartermaster's attention, he was at the man's discretion.

With Dorian gone again, William turned once more to his Steward. "Please, see to my coat and hat. I shall show what grace I may while attending to this departure. And please do me the favor of joining me in the cutter once we make anchorage. You have my permission to set aside all other duties in exchange for what garments you feel would make you an adequate mourner. We'll give Murin such service that she shall feel welcome among so many strangers." "Aye, Captain. I shall see to your things and then retire to change my attire." As she left, William was reminded of something that he once heard in a minister's company. "Fast friends are sometimes found, not at celebration, but in funeral silence."

"No funeral sacrifices, Mister Lasseter. We must remain pragmatic...and we will adorn no corpse while I am Captain." Mister Lasseter smiled a slow smile, and perhaps he had known the Captain would not send off any wasted ounce that might be used to buy them another meal or spar. "The coin shall be kept against the locket, for we may need coin to send it on to England if that unexpected opportunity should present itself. I'll not open the ledgers again so soon to tally such a small amount. Present the earrings to Murin with my compliments. She should have some extra earning as the sole survivor of the Apollo. Assure her that the Lady Ana would not have begrudged her some token for the services she rendered to her on the island. And should you hear argument from anyone else on the subject, than inform them that the difference shall come out of my share. And inform Miss McDonough that i shall attend to the matters of the funeral and join her in the cutter." "Aye, Cap'n." The Quartermaster turned to go, but William called him back from the stair. Taking the coin bag up again, William fished in it for two farthings, holding them to be sure of the coinage. "For the Ferryman." "Aye."

I plan to run up the Wetlander's Ensign and Tracy is making hard tack. Then we'll have a load of friends over to watch a classic pirate movie. Most likely the black and white version of Captain Kidd with Charles Laughton. We'll sing songs and laugh until we cry. The usual stuff. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0037576/

July 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Seven Bells of the Afternoon Watch Mister Lasseter passed the small bag of personal affects to William. The Captain leaned his hip against the lip of the poop deck and poured the contents out carefully. There was coin, hair pins, earings and a locket. William carefully plied the clasp open to reveal a gentleman of fair looks, and whether the artist had been as fair in his representation of the man or not, William couldn't be sure. The man looked young, but this may have also been a kindness of the artist. Still, the man looked wealthy and William suspected that this was not a flattery of the painter. "Her betrothed." Mister Lasseter explained. William nodded. "Back in England." The Quartermaster added. William nodded again. He placed the items back in the bag as he looked out over the island. "England." "Aye." They both knew how much weight that word had. It wasn't just the name of a place, it was the title given to a power, a force, an idea, which redefined itself almost daily. England was no longer a nation fenced in by the sea, in many ways, it was the sea. Every ship it commanded bore England's borders to and from the corners of the world. Not that this mattered, for most of them were beyond England. England had become a banished promontory that only a handful of them might ever return to safely. They were a ship of Prodigals. William hefted the small bag and passed it back to the Quartermaster, repeating volume for volume what he had said just before. "England." "Aye."

It is a question of perspective. A boy of ten now and a boy of ten during the early colonies are two different animals. Apprenticeships begin young. A young man might begin a trade at a very young age, which would serve as much as an education as a means of gain. Mortality rates of the time require that society place more trust in the young and younger. The youth of the past didn't often enjoy the luxury of growing up slowly. Still, I would love to see this proved or disproved by material references. There doesn't seem to be too much on the subject during the GAOP.

Definately a courtesan. Make them drop their gaurd by pure distraction.

Aye, I wish you could have made it, mate. Don't be too hard on the lads here. This is a terrible medium for expressing one's opinion without stepping on a few toes. We'll have a moment of silence in your honor at the fort.

I should like to see a Pyracy Pub photo of all attending Pub members. I may have to get permission to do a Pyracy Pub Flag. Something subtle...perhaps six by nine feet or more.

A crew with a color scheme. There is something one does not see every day. Are you a performing troupe?

These are all of the California crews that I am aware of... http://www.theblackgryphon.com/bgframes.html http://www.talesofthesevenseas.com/ http://www.brotherhoodoftheblackflag.org/ http://www.geocities.com/LaVillaABroka/ http://brethrenofthecoast.com/ http://www.piratesofthetriton.com/ http://www.portroyalprivateers.org/ http://stranglehold.kagusa.org/pirates/index.html http://www.deterioatta.com/home.htm http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Pyrates_of_T..._Treasure_Cove/

It is spoken of geographically in only one place on the Pub in the First Book of the Watch Dog. The Tsunami is mentioned at the beginning of the story while the Watch Dog is at La Desirade, a small island located about 8 km off the coast of Grande Terre, the eastern half of the island of Guadeloupe.

The watch worked hard to bring up the next load of cargo for transport and Jonas McCormick proved to be as good a worker as most and better than some. Having gone from the 'Dog's makeshift brig to the berth deck was a strange transition. Still, most of the crew let him be, apart from Owen, who took great pains to create frictions between the prisoner turned able seaman and Bill Flint. Flint proved to be beyond Owen's petty baiting, but Owen continued on nonetheless, rubbing salt into any wound he could find. Owen was thus employed in causing his share of trouble when he looked up to find the Captain looking at him from the quarterdeck. William's face wore that quiet, but disquieting expression he only wore when he was in a dangerous mood. He had been watching the troublemaker from the height of the quarterdeck, and he meant for Owen to understand that his devilry was finished. Six times over the next half an hour Owen looked up to find the Captain still fixing him with that same cold look. William never blinked while Owen looked at him, not that Owen could hold the gaze long. William had never liked meddlers and it showed in his face. He was forgiving of foolhardy, clumsy or awkward men. He even tolerated the occasional brutish cur or the casual blasphemer, but a man bent solely on trivial aggravations; well, this he despised. Owen never opened his mouth once more during his watch.

July 21, 1704 - Off the La Blanquilla Coast Sixth Bell of the Afternoon Watch With both small boats returned to the Watch Dog, William handed down orders to Mister Badger to move the Watch Dog to the designated coordinates of their next anchorage. Mister Badger called down the orders and the sailors ran to the windlass to weigh the anchor. While the crew was about this, William and Dorian held a conference regarding the burial of Lady Ana. William had no arguments to burying her privately away from the labors of the frigate and he freed up the cutter crew to carry out this task. He also asked the Quartermaster to invite Murin to attend with whomever she wished to join. "Please question her whom she should prefer in regards to the final rites. I'll allow any officer of her choosing for the task." "Very well, Cap'n." "Were the provisions safely stored ashore without too much difficulty?" "Aye, but th' soil 's not deep. Plenty o' coral underneath all this cactus." "Aye", William said, nodding, "We may mine some of it for a barricade when we return. Coral turns small arms fire very well." "Aye." "Thank you, Mister Lasseter." The Quartermaster saluted in his fashion and went immediately to the matters of the funeral just as the anchor broke the surface. With the aid of rope and tackle the crew soon had the anchor swung in and firmly lashed against the side of the Watch Dog and Mister Badger ordered them aloft. With little distance to travel, the 'Dog moved out at a casual pace, carrying only half her sail. Only those birds dispersed from the rigging seemed to have any complaint about the day.