William Brand

"Very well, Miss McDonough." William said with a grateful smile. "Thank you for shouldering this new responsibility so soon. Mister Lasseter will see you stowed in new quarters only after the Doctor releases you to duties. Until then, you may keep your bunk in the surgery and you are welcome to draw from the larder in anticipation of your new place aboard ship. Once you become familiar with those responsibilities as sail mender, Mister Badger will require you to learn the ropes aboard ship. Everyone is required to understand the greater duties of the able seamen in addition to their own individual callings." He paused a moment and added, "Do you have any questions, Miss McDonough?"

"Miss McDonough, please allow me to offer my condolences at the loss of Lady Ana." She managed a nod. "We have known our share of recent losses aboard this ship and I sympathize. We have also known our share of other departures in recent weeks." William gestured to Miss Smith who placed a glass filled with dark liquor in front of Murin. This seemed to make Murin all the more awkward and William smiled reassuringly. He sipped from his own glass a moment before continuing. Tudor refreshed his glass and took a seat on his left to continue her tally. "Miss McDonough, let me come to the point. We are in great need of a tailor and a sail maker. We had both in a young woman who recently departed the Watch Dog for other shores." Realizing this might be misinterpreted, he amended his statement. "She departed the ship for La Margarita, not the afterlife." She showed a trace of a smile. "I hope you will not take offense at this observation, but given your connection to Lady Ana and your hands, which have the look of labor about them, would you perhaps have some experience with thread and needle?"

July 20, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Seven Bells of the Morning Watch William sent for Rummy and Miss Smith. The Master Carpenter and Ship's Steward exchanged details regarding the longboat damage. Rummy expressed every confidence that she could repair the boat on site and that it would be unnecessary to bring it aboard for full repairs. William advised her to be ready to return to the island by way of the fishing boat and that Miss Smith should join her with supplies for the shore party. They would anchor the Watch Dog on the Westward side of the island with the anticipation of scouring the Apollo wreck with the cutter while the longboat was under repair. With Mister Lasseter returned and Mister Badger standing hard by, William gave over the deck, excusing himself to eat, wash and change. He went below to check on the wounded. The surgery was as it had been. Mooney was looking better for his stay there and Nathan looked much recovered. He found Miss McDonough standing just inside the galley and asked her to join him in the Ward Room on the next bell to discuss her future aboard ship. William returned to the ward room to strip off his damaged waistcoat and see to his own bruises. He stood naked to the waist examining his neck for a long time before a mirror. It was bruised and burned from the rope. He would have a scar behind his right ear, but not a noticeable one. The neck burn would be obvious for a time, but he didn't mind it so much. Even his knee looked well enough, for much of the ache had gone. He would walk off the remaining discomfort as he always did. He lowered himself into a chair, regarding the closed satchel on the table and the strongbox which had been placed near at hand. He stripped his remaining shore clothes and put on fresh garments again. He left the pistol and baldric in his room and returned to the table. Miss Smith arrived as he was laying out the treasure items for a counting. He showed the Steward the fine pistols and wondered aloud what he might do with them. "Perhaps you might keep them, Cap'n." Miss Smith offered, but William shook his head after a moment. It was easy to covet such a fine pair of pistols, but they were showy pieces, and William thought they might better serve the ship at some future date if they were given as a gift to someone of power or position. "It never hurt to have 'trinkets for the natives', Miss Smith. We might require these as a gift to someone by way of a formal bribe at some unguessed and future hour. I'll have the carpenter change this identifying emblem." William put the box away and he and Tudor ate while they catalogued all of the items by size and value. It was a slow process and the ship's bell rang before they were finished. A polite knock was heard as they tallied and Tudor ushered in Miss McDonough, who stared at the fortune spread upon the table. "Please, be seated, Miss McDonough."

July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos Gathering the Crew The first bell of Morning Watch came and went with no formal change of watches ashore. Life aboard the Watch Dog went on as it had, with Mister Badger taking over the watch from Mister Youngblood and then mister Youngblood taking it back again from Mister Badger. They each took their turns watching the shore party and the horizon for any dangers, but all was quiet. La Blanquilla was proving to be removed from the world in many ways and this made for a good rest for all. By the fourth bell of Morning Watch, the shore party was stirring from the various resting places of choice. William, who could never sleep once the dawn had come, had arisen early to wander the shore and reexamine the documents in his possession. By the fifth bell, most of the crew was awake, including a tired and weathered Quartermaster. William ordered the cutter loaded up with the strongbox to be delivered to the Watch Dog post haste. Some of its contents were divided among the boat crew for the journey to avoid loss if an accident should occur while in transit, but given the cargo, the crew was especially careful and it arrived without incident. Soon they were all safely aboard the ship again and William ordered the Watch Dog about to gather up the longboat crew. The Quartermaster was welcomed back, receiving as many jeers and jests as he did fond returns. Many inquires were also made about the strongbox as it came aboard, but William refused to display any of the discovered goods until all of the crew was safely aboard again. The Sixth Bell of Morning Watch sounded as the Watch Dog came about and pressed Northward on a favorable wind to gather up the shipwrecked, but safe shore party. Sixth Bell of Morning Watch

I have been well. Life is good. It often is.

Some mango tea should do nicely and perhaps some sheperd's pie and strawberries. An eclectic mix, I grant you, but a good one.

July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos William carefully replaced the items in the strongbox, keeping out the maps and titles for closer examination. He bade Mister Warren and Mister Flint to carry the box to Mister Lasseter's side, who looked better for his escape and Tempest's company. He doubted not that it was her presence more than her ministrations as a Doctor that improved his well being, and he didn't mind that neither of them seemed too interested in anything but their own company. Still, he sat nearby and carefully perused the charts and paperwork. The land grants were of particular interest, since land holdings represented a firm financial foothold in most cases. A man possessed of land was often possessed of certain rights and position. The Watch Dog was already much improved for having a haven in La Blanquilla, even though the promontory was a plain one offering few resources. Land, no matter the quality, can lend a people place among society. They might even sell the grants for a significant profit if the property proved valuable enough. The Trinidad holdings would be of worth, almost certainly, but the Manhattan land was problematic. New York had ever been a haven for privateers, pirates and pilgrims for several decades now. It was a growing civilization built on a foundation of gain, but with the English in possession of it, it presented some small obstacles for William and others aboard ship. Of all the colonies, this one might be relaxed enough in its laws to allow them a guarded safety of sorts, but it would be tenuous at best. He laid all of the charts and documents aside after a time, tucking them away in the worn leather satchel. He ordered Tucker, Styles and Godfrey to take the smallest of the boats back to the Watch Dog with reports and orders. Then he gave the watch over to Mister Warren, he having slept most of the night up until the rescue. Mister Warren took a seat on the strongbox armed with a good musket and a brace of pistols while the rest of the watch wandered about the beachhead in pairs, most of them discussing their shares and their ambitions for their own private portions. William was asleep in under a minute, lulled by the sound of mixed conversation, surf and the fire which popped and cracked nearby.

July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos The Ilex Fortune revealed William lifted himself from the ground and came to where much of the shore party had gathered. They stood about the open box waiting for the Captain to delve first into its contents. The gleam of some gold and precious stones could not be mistaken, though the true treasure was not readily apparent, for much of the fortune lay in bags and boxes within the strongbox. He knelt and lifted each item out. The first box within appeared to be carved from ironwood, but upon closer examination it proved to be ebony. It bore a family crest that might have been of Spanish origin, but no one recognized the emblem. The box was beautiful and valuable by itself, but shrouded in a plush green velvet within, lay two matched pistols of such fine workmanship and materials that they received an appreciative remark from everyone in the circle. Every tool included in the case was made of the finest materials, and all were unspoiled, except for some neglect from time. The pistols themselves were of a make that rivaled the nicest pieces aboard ship or in any private collection among the crew. Each pistol was encrusted in Spanish gold designs depicting scenes of upper class hunting and feasting out of doors. They were show pieces to be sure, but William doubted not that the works themselves were of a fine quality. He closed the hasp and set the box aside gently. Next he brought out three bags of equal weight, all containing 100 pieces of eight each. He poured the contents into the hands of an admiring Mister Flint, who tried his best to hold the coins, but they spilled and eager hands gathered them up again. William tossed an unopened bag to Mister Warren, asking him to show the contents to Mister Lasseter. Next came a similar bag of gold dust weighing some nineteen ounces. This went into the pile of small pouches along with three others containing, rings, bracelets, fobs, earings, necklaces, hat pins, broaches, buckles, buttons and all other manner of specie made from gold, silver and every other precious material. Other loose jewelry came up from the box including 2 necklaces, 3 pendants, 2 pairs of pearl earings, 2 loose rubys, 5 emeralds, 3 saphires, and a Signet Ring. It was a delicious cache of items and everyone had a greedy smile that they couldn't help wearing. It was a treasure indeed. Perhaps not the exaggerated treasures of their dreams, heaped high in dozens of impossibly heavy trunks, but a real and absolute find of no small value. All of it gleamed and burned under the torch light. "Think what we might buy, gentlemen. Think what rest and revelry await us in Martinique." William said with a widening smile. Each of them returned it, understanding what many months of delights and delicacies they might enjoy on such a sum as this. "Think..." William continued, but then halted, for what he had misunderstood as the bottom of the box was a dark leather satchel containing many papers. He opened them with care, but found them all dry and well protected. The first quantity proved to be layers and layers of folded charts and maps of many regions. It was a treasure unto itself for the wealth of knowledge it yielded. William, ever the student cartographer, reveled in each discovery and spread out the charts one at a time to appreciate them. Several of the men stopped to point at the various maps. It was jewelry on paper, but even this could not have prepared them for the final find. The last envelope, made of heavy vellum, contained three small documents. William read them three times before he looked up at the surrounding circle. "Land deeds." "Deeds?" Mister Warren echoed. "William nodded, reading them a fourth time. "Land grants. Holdings in Trinidad and New Netherland...Manhattan, gentlemen."

now if one could only put a bottle of rum in his hand... Not an easy thing to do...but...

Indebted? Why my dear Tempest, the Kate does not serve fare for free. I exchange the gold and silver from many dangerous enterprises both legitimate and ill gotten for goods and services.

July 20, 1704 - Under Los Hermanos "Aye." William agreed, but found no celebration in his own mood. Later, he would settle for quiet relief, some personal joy at reunion and some much needed rest. "Captain. What news?", Jim Warren asked, having just entered with a newly lit torch in his hand and seeing the two soaked men across the pool. The light from it threw back the darkness at once and William squinted from the light and pain. His knee suddenly felt alive with heat and he rubbed a hand across his chest. "A pale horse has kicked me soundly in the ribs, Mister Warren." "Sir?" William waved his own comment away with a gesture, inviting Mister Warren to join them as he may. The Coxswain lit a second torch and tossed it to Mister Flint who caught it deftly. Then, anchoring the second torch in a crack, and being dressed down to slops and shirt, Mister Warren swam the moderately disturbed pool in short order. While he made his passage, William studied Mister Flint, and judging that he was no worse for having risked the pool, he asked him for a hand up. Bill pulled the Captain to his feet. Now joined by the Coxswain, William gestured forward to Mister Flint to took up the lead. As they made their way they were serenaded by Chanault's soft whistling, sometimes magnified, sometimes reduced by the acoustics. It had an erie effect in a darkness defined by the shadows thrown from the torches. It bounced and mingled with the sea behind them. When they came upon the Frenchman, he was crouched in a passage that depreciated as it disappeared into the darkness ahead. Chanault stopped his whistling at once, for William's visage was not a friendly one. The Captain wore little or no expression, which in and of itself meant nothing, for the man often wore a quiet mask. No, it was not the Captain's face, but the water dripping from his hair and the blood it carried from behind the man's right ear where the hemp had tried to dislodge his head. It was also the splinters still protruding from his waistcoat and the angry rope burn under his chin and jaw line. It was also the added limp and the way he held a hand upon his chest in a fashion that Chanault had never witnessed. It was all of these things, but mostly the silence. Chanault made as if to speak, but the Captain took the torch from Bill and stepped past the man. William moved into the diminishing space until he came to that part of the chamber which the shore party had previously unearthed through the aid of shovels. William passed the torch back to Bill and set upon the newly collected sand with his bare hands, despite the presence of tools from the earlier expedition. It was not difficult work and he soon freed enough of the choked passage to pass through it. Once he had squeezed through the opening, Mister Flint passed a torch through and William found himself standing in the innermost chamber of the cave works. There, prostrate on the cave floor, lay Dorian Lasseter. William strode forward too quickly for his knee's liking, but he ignored it, bending down with an audible complaint from it and himself. Mister Flint was immediately at Mister Lasseter's opposite side and they rolled him over gently. His left arm was bloodied and the wound looked grievous in the torchlight. Chanault arrived next, just as the stirring Quartermaster raised his pistol with an effort that was more blind instinct than alarm. Chanault plucked it nimbly from his fingers. Dorain said something then that might have been "Make yourselves known", but it was lost in the dry rattle of his throat. Mister Warren was the final to arrive and he passed a canteen to William at once, who in turn brought it to the waiting lips of the Quartermaster. "Mister Lasseter, it gives me no small pleasure to see you thus...", but William didn't know how to finish this, for he did indeed feel that an adequate celebration then would be a joyful silence. Mister Warren picked up the remains of the Quartermaster's broken sword while Chanault threw all of his attention on his damaged arm. William, half sitting, half laying, assisted Dorian in slow and careful sips and the water revived the man a little. With Bill holding a torch aloft for the benefit of them all, Mister Warren circled about, finding evidence of the Quartermaster's short imprisonment. The tacky blood was rinsed away from Dorian's arm and his wound was bandaged for his short transport from the cave. The man looked better for the water and after repeated inquires about relocating him to better accommodations, he nodded. William and Bill lifted the man, while Chanault and Mister Warren lit there departure fore and aft. They had stepped but a few paces, when Mister Lasseter halted them with a solitary "Wait" gesturing to a nearby crevice. Close examination showed that the Ilex fortune rested here inside a modest sized, metal box. William nodded to Mister Warren, and he and Bill fetched it down, but with an effort. It proved no small trouble, for it was carefully placed. The box itself was not overly large, but it had to be turned in just such a way as to fit through the hole. Once it was resting on the cave floor, it looked small, almost disappointing, but William knew that the value of such things can never be measured at a glance, for even the lock which held the catch was imposing and each of them noted what work it might take to free the lid. Still, having no powder, nor a desire to blast the lock in this enclosed place, Bill Flint and Mister Warren shouldered the weight and followed the men from the cave. The passage out again was as difficult as the danger had been getting in. Mister Lasseter was as weak as William was battered and tired. More than once they appeared to the others as two drunken shipmates navigating an alley. Each of them leaned on the other, and anyone unaware of the situation would have been hard pressed to guess as to which one was the supporter and which the burden. When they reached the pool, they found the remaining shore party gathered in anticipation. William found Tempest's face at once, as she found Dorian's. This was another celebration unto itself and it buoyed William as he continued to support the injured man. A dozen reaching hands offered their support as all of them were delivered over the tidal pool and out into a night of stars. Once outside, William refused any help but Tempest's as they brought Dorian safely up onto dry ground.

I have a rare Chateau Lafite-Rothschild. Will that serve?

July 20, 1704 - The Tidal Pool Beneath Los Hermanos William waited long for an anything but his own echo and the sea to answer his cry, but no reply sounded from Mister Lasseter. William placed his feet soundly on the wall and prepared to use his own strength and the surge from the sea to propel himself across the deep pool. When the next wave crashed through he shoved off and managed the distance almost entirely. Bill Flint tugged hard on the line just before William reached the opposite side in an effort to slow the Captain momentum, so that he would not crash upon the opposite wall, and while this kept him from dashing his head, it hauled him up just too short for a proper purchase. Only one hand managed any hold at all, but the other hand slipped. William pulled on the leading line, hoping to find some anchor in Chanault, but the man's line came back loose and empty in his hand and the Captain was dragged off the pool edge by the retreating wave. "The Devil...!" was all William managed before he was dragged underwater by the receding wave. He tried to turn his body quickly enough to get his feet ahead of himself for the inevitable collision, but too late. William tangled in the loose line and it trapped one arm too close to his body to assist him in shielding his head. Then he struck so suddenly upon the uneven edge of the pool that his last breath was crushed out of him at once. His right knee struck an unseen protrusion below him hard enough to make him suck air that was not available to him and he scrambled for purchase and the surface. He drove himself upward with his one free arm, kicking legs and a survival instinct which summoned a strength normally unavailable to him. His knee suffered a second collision, but he gained the surface enough for a flurry of coughs and one breath among three to call out after Chanault. Bill Flint noted the Captain's tenuous placement between elements and was frantically taking up the line to get a hold on him before the next wave came. He gathered up the line as fast as could, and while his efforts were admirable, he accidently grabbed up one of the coils in Chanault's loose line by mistake. The loose hemp had snaked around William's left arm, shoulder and head as he surfaced and he was in more peril than he realized. Then the next wave came. It was a strong one. The rushing force of it almost peeled Mister Flint from his place of purchase, but the man had his feet well planted. William, barely secure in his entrapments, was carried across the tidal pool a second time and this proved to be his near undoing. The loose line went taut about his throat. William was sucked down under the water by the thundering water and his legs were dragged out ahead of him. His left arm was trapped sufficiently in the loose line to be jerked back, and only this added tension on the line kept William's neck from popping, for Bill Flint was tugging back hard on the line in a misguided effort to save the Captain's life. The inky blackness that flooded William's head then was a miasma of confusion and compliance. Part of him understood his immediate peril, but his mind dimmed beyond his control. It was an eclipse of consciousness that clouded all reason and self awareness. "I've drowned and hanged," he thought absently. "How awful..." Then reality struck him another blow. The great beam of wood that the shore party had employed to cross the tidal pool on their initial trip underground, was still here in the subterranean passage, subject to the whims of the sea. Part of it had splintered and wedged upon the wall to their right, but the remainder floated about pell mell on each subsequent wave. As the Captain was dragged down under his own weight, the withdrawing water drove the beam upon him like a hammer. The next few moments were all drowning and struggle. Mister Flint had realized the Captain's true predicament and had thrown off line, torch and his own self preservation. He dove under the turbulent pool to rescue the trapped Captain. William, awoken by the pain of being struck upon like one of Vulcan's tinkerings, was fighting the tangled line to gain the air above. Between them, they managed a sort of violent ballet, each trying to lead in a dance with no steps. They came up together on the pool's far wall, carried by a weaker wave that filled the space, and for a moment they were two fish in the same tangled line. They sprawled and sputtered a moment in the dark while the waves which thundered in decreased in severity. "Gods..." William said after his coughing had subsided. And then he express himself again on the subject. "Gods." Bill only nodded for a moment, then added..."Aye, Captain"...in a fashion that was almost too agreeable to be anything but humorous, given their present situation. "My added thanks, Mister Flint." William said after another moment's coughing. "Report."

Agreed. The water bottle must go... Before. After.

I like them both. I say you fly them both. There are a great many good designs here in this thread. I have enojyed the variety a great deal, especially the range from simple to elaborate.

Over a dozen. Careful, lad.

July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos The night vigil over Mister Lasseter's tomb had passed both too quickly and too slowly. William had not witnessed a firmament more pocked with stars since his youth, and then in a sea of sand, not water. The whole expanse of the unknown lay overhead, circling away to the west as Mother Earth rolled over gently in her sleep. Bright, temporary arcs touched the horizon from time to time like all too mortal stars. William had passed these long hours in contemplation, reviewing whole periods of his life like a self narrated play in his mind. He also went through lines of the Bard line by line to keep himself awake, though he felt no great need for sleep at first. Part of him had ever been the night creature, drawn to nocturnal festivities. He was want to sit by a fire for hours on end, staring up at a bejeweled canopy late into the morning. Chanault had joined him at some point and he ignored the man as much as he acknowledged him, not out of any disregard for is person, but because the night has a way of gathering silent worshippers who need not explain their mutual appreciation for the infinite. Besides, they were both thinking about the same trapped soul beneath Los Hermanos, and neither of them need mention the obvious points of their concerns. At one point in the darkness, for no particular reason, William began to quote Julius Caesar. "I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament." Chanault picked up the cue like a fellow actor and they passed the play between them line for line for a time. Soon, the ebb and flow of the sea revolved, as the Earth was want to, and the shoreline grew as the sea retreated back from it. At first it was not so noticeable that William felt the need to call it to the attention of the shore party. Only he and Chanault watched the tide's progress. As the sea withdrew, it revealed first the crown of the outcropping and then the layers of Ilex's "curtains". William gestured to Chanault with a nod and the man went back along the darkness to the dimmed fire of the temporary encampment to rouse those not already awake. They were all gathered in the retreating surf within moments of waking. Tarred torches and lines were passed among the crew as William passed each man his orders. Thought many of them had slept but a few hours, the adreneline of action and the cold water of the night sea had carried away any fatigue. Standing there by the sea, waiting for the opening to appear in the cave, William's thoughts drifted to funerary matters. He had all too recently buried many a man and the litany of burial at sea went round and round in his mind... 'We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body (when the Sea shall give up her dead).' This last important phrase echoed in his thoughts until he spoke it aloud. "...When the Sea shall give up her dead." Mister Warren picked up on it, drawing on a similar phrase from another bard of sorts... "And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them..." A chorus, not much above a whisper passed among the shore party. The soft amen came with some smiles and some stern faces, but all of them together felt the fevered anticipation of rediscovering a lost comrade. Then the opening appeared. William and Chanault were the first to go down, and no one argued the point, though any man would have taken the first place in line at the entrance of the cave. Even Tempest wore a look on her face that vied for that opportunity to rush into the darkness. Despite the order, each of them held fast the life and line of the preceding crew member in their hands as the rope played out along the line of rescuers. Chanault, made no less nimble from his earlier injuries and failed attempts, disappeared easily beneath the upper edge of the entrance. He came back again almost at once exclaiming that the interior did not yet offer enough room for safe passage. This was very irksome to all involved, for the tide seemed not to care about their petty concerns and it continued to ebb ever so slowly. Finally, after minutes turned to centuries, Chanault went in again, followed by the Captain. The darkness was preternatural and disorienting. Only when Bill Flint followed did his torch throw back the black and reveal the perilous tunnel still half filled and turning under each successive wave. The first torch was put out entriely by a large crash of water that would have driven them forward if not for Bill, who filled the space. the man was wedged upon the entrance with a force that drove out all his air, but he held on and a second torch was passed to him. Chanault, mindful of what he remembered from before, allowed the water to carry him forward, well beyond the deep pool beneath his feet. William clung at a nearby whirl in the stone and barely found enough purchase to stay his progress. Before the next wave could gather and reposition them, William gathered one great breath of air. "DORIAN!"

Well, my dear shamrock. You best prepare yourself for a fair share of compliments and at least one wedding proposal.

Mister Pew enjoyed the relative peace of the evening as he carried out his orders on the second archipelago of Los Hermanos. Since the small boat was damaged and daylight remained before them, he chose to circumnavigate the island as before and return to the boat before nightfall. Little else could be done until repairs could be made, so he went about his duties. The reaction of the landing party was mixed, and despite one disagreeable remark from Owen, everyone fell into line and continued their exploration of the island. This proved fortuitous when sunset came, for Maurice discovered a small fishing boat well hidden under a nest of wind bent trees and piled branches. It was a small boat, almost a full third smaller than the longboat. It showed signs of wear and tear, but apart from a few patches and a great need of paint, it showed no lack of seaworthiness. After lengthy consideration, the Master-at-arms put Maurice, Owen and Tudor in the boat and sent them with word to the Watch Dog of the shore party's findings and current predicament. He sent a third of their muskets and pistols to be cleaned and serviced aboard the frigate. Owen questioned this action, pointing out that all of the muskets and pistols were worthless, since all of them contained wet powder and sand. Miss Smith carefully pointed out that if anyone should arrive and threaten them, they would be none the wiser about the condition of the powder or arms. "It is better to appear armed than not." Mister Pew agreed and he and the Captain's Steward gave Owen a look that dared him to question orders again. This silenced Owen entirely, for he was loathe to open his mouth and look the fool. As the small boat disappeared into a growing gloom, Mister Pew and the remaining crew continued the circumnavigation of the small island. When they came full circle to the damaged longboat, he ordered a split watch and an encampment was placed in the shelter of the trees not far from where the second boat had been discovered. . . . Back aboard the Watch Dog the minutes gave over to hours. Bells were rung and rung again as the watches were traded out under the careful watch of Mister Badger. Soon, even the Bosun gave the deck and the Master Gunner took up an unaccustomed place on the quarterdeck. As the daylight waned and gave over to a night both clear and dark, Mister Youngblood patrolled the quarter deck as easily as he had always walked the gun deck. He enjoyed the moment only as much as the reasons behind it allowed. The ship was quiet under his watch, but alert in its relative silence. The galley was dark for the first time that day. Some soft music drifted up from the berth deck, but mostly, it was a sleeping ship. Still, despite a night of near darkness, the lookouts were watchful, and Ciaran noted the approach of a small and unrecognized sail. "Sail off the Larboard quarter!" he called out from the darkness above. Mister Youngblood went to the rail at once and he was joined by two armed men of the watch. Calls were exchanged out across the quiet darkness and soon the two men from Mister Pew's party were back aboard. Miss Smith delivered her report and the cache of small arms into the waiting hands of Eric Franklin. Mister Youngblood plied the three with questions until he was satisfied that none of Mister Pew's remaining party were in any immediate danger before dismissing the tired boat party from any further duties. . . . William was standing on shore again, having paced the beachhead during the evening and night, when Ciaran's voice carried over the water. William returned to the water's edge to receive news as it was relayed across the water from Mister Youngblood. He called back over the dark water, sending his acknowledgment to each of Petee's reports and inquiries. In the end, the conversation ceased between the wooden island and the one of stone as each officer went back to walking their respective decks. Mister Youngblood walked the oak of the Watch Dog and Captain Brand paced the sand and stone of Los Hermanos. Both of them noted the last bell of First Watch as the calendar rolled over to the next day. July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos

The return trip from a vacation is a mixed blessing.

July 19, 1704 - Los Hermanos Before the Samson could touch the shoreline, the cutter crew was on the lines and along the sides of the jollywatt. They brought it up onto shore with an effortless that delivered everyone safely. Mister Warren and Chanault came forward and offered a simultaneous hand to Tempest and with their help she went nimbly to the wet rocks and sand, though her usual spring was subdued. Bill Flint followed after with bundles that were lifted away from him by the members of the shore party moments after his feet were on the island. William went forward between the rowers, and though hands were offered for his passage from the boat, he stepped ashore without aid. His appearance, armed with weapons real and emotions guessed at, cast a silence over the shore party. Mister Warren was the only one to break the silence, and though he was certain that the Captain had witnessed all their actions by spyglass, he reported them just the same, fully understanding the redundancy of such a duty. William listened with a focused attention that the Coxswain had not quite expected. The Captain looked at him with an even and open regard while he explained each detail of their trials from the time they left the ship to the discovery of the Quartermaster's hat. "Thank you, Mister Warren." was William's only response, but he gestured to the waterline and he, the Doctor and the Coxswain went down to the soft crash of waves along the shoreline. They stood together awhile in a silent observation of the unobtainable. The short distance that lay between them and the possible final or injured remains of Mister Lasseter might just as well be the span of an entire ocean, for none of them could expect to go down into the metronome of the relentless sea and come out again. So they stood in silence, like three mute and somber mourners walking over what might be the Quartermaster's grave. Chanault came up quietly behind them, but not so quietly that they were not aware of him. Tempest turned to him then and they shared the apologies, hopes, helplessness, concern, desperation and all the other emotions that two people might without words in a moment of waiting. William broke the silence, plying them with questions without taking his eyes off of the sea. One questions after the other came with the patient speed of one who is discussing travel arrangements or making conversation about the weather. His detachment was at once admirable and unsettling. It was cold and controlled, but the questions were probing and precise. He asked about the nature of the subterranean chamber upon which they stood. He asked about purchase and hand holds. He asked about air pockets and imperfections. Every inquiry was followed with another question uninterrupted by pause. William considered the many options open to them, but they were few. They might blast the blowhole with powder, but a cave in would only endanger the Quartermaster. They might send a line in by use of some flotation device, but this might endanger anyone trying to place a line in the cave entrance. Furthermore, a cask or barrel might become dangerous debris sent pellmell through the underground passage. It might also block the blowhole and further risk Mister Lasseter's life. Every consideration was a risk to them or to him and William's face slowly lost it's statuesque quality as it was replaced with a tired resignation. Nothing could be done but wait. Understanding this, William gave what few orders he could. "Doctor, see to the injuries of the shore party." She nodded, equally resigned to the futility of any other effort. She smiled a little then. It pained him to see it and he was certain that the smile was a veneer painted over an ironic or rueful thought. Perhaps she was grateful for the distraction of duties. Whatever her thoughts, she straightened her shoulders and let the heavy worry drift away from her face as she went up the beach to see to the wounded. William had never seen her look more beautiful. Jeanne d'Arc before the fire.

All distinctions aside, I see most of the people here on the pub this way... Blackjohn - pirate Patrick Hand - pirate Tempest - pirate Rumbarue - pirate Hawkyns - pirate Captain Jim - pirate Mercenary Wench - pirate Siren - pirate Cascabel - pirate "Flintlock" Annie Kidd - pirate Ace of Harbor Bay - pirate Captain Sterling - pirate Rateye - pirate Cire - pirate Christine - pirate Dorian Lasseter - pirate Mad Jack - pirate Iron Bess - pirate Bilgemonkey - pirate Lady Barbossa - pirate Cap'n Pete Straw - pirate JohnnyTarr - pirate Callenish Gunner - pirate Sir Beachem Quick - pirate Captain Bob - pirate Kass - pirate Captain Midnight - pirate Zephaniah W Nash - pirate Mad Matt - pirate Matusalem - pirate Montery Jack - pirate Amanjira - pirate Gentleman of Fortune - pirate Foxe - pirate William Blydes - pirate Jonathan Hawks - pirate Silkie McDonough - pirate Arthur Richards from Kent - pirate Pyrate Phil - pirate Charity - pirate And so forth...

Every once in awhile I find a picture I had forgot about.

Tempest asked that I post these two pictures on her behalf. Note the striking hat.

This is for any announcements concerning PIP. It might end up a little redundant, given the fact the PIP has its own website, but there are details we might cover which are not given to the general public. Even so, if someone comes here looking for the general schedule they should go to: http://www.piratesinparadise.com/