William Brand

Having survived a sewer filled basement so very recently, you have my utmost empathy. I am still replacing clothes.

Mister Lasseter had already brought the Watch Dog to life at the turn of the watch some two hours before and the rocky outcroppings of Los Hermanos were now looming ahead of them. William was about to cut the conversation short when he remembered a few vital words that would benefit Ajayi. This proved to be unnecessary, for the man already had a grasp of larboard, starboard, fore, aft, and half a dozen other terms. These he had learned from careful observation on the Warrington Hart and on the Watch Dog. Satisfied that he understood each word's full meaning, William ordered the boat crews to the boats.

William was moved to words he hadn't used in a very long time and after a slow start, he and Ajayi were conversing. Much of what passed between them was broken, for William's arabic was a half forgotten memory, and Ajayi seemed reticent to use too much of it. William tried to translate openly what he could follow to the benefit of all about him. "He is Yoruban." This of course, was a discovery they had made before, but it was again confirmed. "He has been a captive once before..." William noted that Ajayi did not use the word 'slave' for a proud man would never think himself more than a temporary captive and William understood this well. "He was taken into...BaniGhazi by arabs and this is where he learned their language." "Bani...Bani..." Mister Pew attempted. "BaniGhazi." William repeated, and thought about it for a long time. Many cities in the Near East had similar sounding names, so he wasn't sure about the location at first. "I believe BaniGhazi is in Lybia. It is Hamadan country. Or maybe Hashed."

Both parties assembled amidships, and though it rained as hard as it ever had, the sun was glancing across the decks from the East. The sheets of rain looked like curtians of light and the whole company on deck appeared as a convocation of clergymen, milling about in dark robes about the deck. William went immediately to Mister Pew, who confirmed that all was nearly ready. The longboat gently splashed into the water and the lines went slack. Ajayi came over to the two officers and thumped Mister Pew hard on the chest with the back of his hand, a gesture of respect that took getting used to. Mister Pew was rocked a little on his feet by the act and smiled despite himself. "Sadikie", Ajayi said resolutely, and William was surprised to hear clear Arabic come out of the man who had seemed hesitant with it before. "Sadikie?" William returned, gesturing to the Master-at-Arms. Ajayi nodded and thumped Mister Pew a second time. "Steady on there." Mister Pew said, unused to being thumped in such a manner. He straightened his hat which had shifted. "What's 'e on about, Sah?" "Kaif takool thalik bil Alingli'zia?" Ajayi inquired, and William's smile spread wide. It had been so long since he had conversed in the language of his adolescence that he hesitated, hoping Ajayi would ask again, but the large man simply waited. "He called you 'friend', Mister Pew. He wants to know how to say it in English."

I know. He's almost too cute.

William smiled a slow smile. It was the quiet smile that crossed his face when he had much to say, but he said nothing. Instead, he gathered up his heavy coat and hat and turned to her again. "We have spoken our peace and have nothing more to prove to one another. Let us be about our business." he said as he opened the door and stood aside for her. She went out and he followed her forward to the waist of the gundeck.

He couldn't stop eating it. I'm so proud. My little Scot.

Liam has his first Haggis.

"Thank you, Mister Pew. Miss Smith will be with you momentarily. Be certain that all of your men have fed and drawn rations against the day before departure." "Aye, sah." The Master-at-Arms went out again, drawing the door close and William continued as if uninterrupted. "You said other things as well which I remember. You said you had been 'Captain of other ships in other lifetimes'. I understood then that you understood that a Captain 's calling is a life unto itself. When one is Captain of a ship, it is its own lifetime, marked from then as a new and present course. The lives aboard ship become all important then. The past is a thing removed, except where it threatens or assists the present." Mister Lasseter nodded. "But it was what you said last which was most important to me. You said, 'Yours in service'. I have heard few greater oaths, Miss Smith. I knew then that Mister Lasseter was the Quartermaster of this ship and he has ever embodied that stewardship. When I give orders through him I know that I will either receive council back again, or that he will send it down to the crew unamended. The same can be said of almost everyone aboard. Some, looking at Mister Gage, might see a cook. I see a SHIP'S cook. Lazarus knows when men are not fed they faint in the rigging. He knows any food lost is work lost. He knows that to waste is to harm everyone. If he prepares too little, morale is washed away with the rain. If he uses to much of the stores, he endangers our futures. When you serve as Steward, you remove the petty obstacles in my path. You free me of the bondage of the every day, allowing me to serve the crew's best interests." "I meant no disrespect, Cap'n." she said quietly. "I know, Tudor. But do not think that we think little of you. I raised you as Steward because you can be. Yes, you are a woman, and yes, you are young. But remember, David ruled his people at the age of thirty...some four year our junior." he said, looking at Mister Lasseter, then back at her again. "Alexander was king of Persia and Macedonia, Overlord of Asia Minor and Pharaoh of Egypt at twenty-five." "Died at thirty-two." Dorian said with a rueful smile. "Ruler o' th' world almost." William went and placed his hand on the basket of his sword. He looked at it a moment, then said, "This blade is worth one hundred and thirty pounds." She looked at it then. The idea that it was worth one hundred and thirty pounds was surprising to say the least. She might have guessed seven, maybe ten at most, but one hundred and thirty. It was worn, and more than a little ill used in places. It showed every sign of use and time. "In a way, it is worth one hundred and thirty pounds, because it is mine, and I am worth one hundred and thirty pounds." he said slowly, then added. "Dead. I am worth one hundred and thirty pounds, dead. That is why this sword has such great value. Only because where it can be found, I can be found. You are my Steward. Because of this, and an edict some seven years old, you are worth eighteen pounds, dead." She looked surprised, perhaps even confused. Her face reflected many expressions. "If you are found with me by the English, you will hang. Not for any crimes of your own. You will hang for being in company with me. Mister Lasseter here is worth somewhere between thirty and fifty pounds." Mister Lasseter made a gruff, dissenting sound at this. Probably due to the small sum, rather than the idea of it being over his head. "He may have crimes of his own worthy of note, but the company he keeps is enough alone to have him hanged. So you see there is no small danger in your title. If you were but a lowly sailor, they might not hang you. Your chances are improved, being a woman as you are, but being a Steward does not help you." William stopped. He had already said much more than he had intended to. Indeed, he had never meant to speak on all of these matters, but what was said was said. He looked up at Mister Lasseter. "Thank you, Dorian. Please see to the men's readiness. I will join you on deck momentarily." The Quartermaster went out with his usual affirmative.

William shook his head slowly, his hands behind his back once more. He looked at Mister Lasseter and gestured to the waiting weather gear with a nod and Mister Lasseter went to fetch them. Then, William pressed him with another question. "Do you remember the day after Captain William was found murdered? I came to you with a question or two." "Aye." Mister Lasseter said, his oilskins in hand. William looked at Tudor. "The monsignor put my name before the mast for acceptance to this post. I was nominated Captain and had but to except the title and the Watch Dog would be mine while I would have her. Of course, I was flattered. Most flattered. I had been one great concern...that Mister Lasseter here should feel passed over. Overlooked. So I held a private conference with him and asked him if he would himself except the post." He looked at the Quartermaster then. "Do you remember what you said, Mister Lasseter?"

Grilled vegetables are divine. I am especially fond of grilled asparagus.

"Mister Lasseter." William turned to him and reined him into the conversation at once. "What positions have you held before on previous ships?" His stance changed to one of thought and he closed the door behind him as he pondered on the question, not because he had forgotten, but because the question might be answered in many ways. It could be answered by importance, by order, or by significant experience. As a sailor, one sometimes does greater things as an able seaman than as an officer. Acts of bravery, forethought, advancement and opportunity are not limited to office.

"Yes..." he said slowly, replacing blade again to the old scabbard and baldric. He put them on the table. "Price and value are two very different things entirely." He walked to the windows and stood, as he was often want to do, with his hands behind his back. "I served aboard the Kingfisher some years ago. There was a man aboard ship. A very capable man. His name was Richard Amherst. He was an educated man of many schools. He owned a private library aboard ship which rivaled the Captain's own. Indeed, he was versed in more subjects than the Captain. In addition to his schooling, he possessed no small amount of training in the arts of war, tactics and the delicacies of the sword. In short, he was a consummate fellow, and worthy of any post aboard ship. This man was the Captain's Steward." He let the last statement fall where it may. He let it linger a long while and for a time he seemed far away. When he returned again, he continued with force. He walked over to the table and placed the tips of his finger upon it. "This table is the political battlefield of this ship. It represents a seat of power occupied by all of the senior officers of his ship. Our lives, fortunes and future are played out in miniature upon this table. Amherst understood this. He was no more a laborer than I am fishmonger. He was a servant, yes, as a Captain is a servant. He had a place of his own, and let any man who knew Amherst speak of him, and that man would tell you with what grandeur Amherst kept his post. When one came into the presence of the Captain, one was ushered in by Amherst as one might be ushered before a Pope or potentate. Not because the Captain was of such a standing, but because Amherst reverenced his position as Steward. Amherst was the root of Stewardship. No task was beneath him or above him." He paused here, and Tudor thought that she might make some comment, some interjection, but he went on again. "When I introduce you at table, at court, at every opportunity, I do so without apology. You are my Steward. You are not the Ward Room's chamber maid. Why should you make yourself less than you are when all around you do not?"

"No...?" William said nothing more for a time. He interlocked his fingers and raised an eyebrow for a moment, but he remained as silent as the grave for sometime thereafter. The corner of his mouth moved a little and it might have been a smile, but no more reassuring than something predatory or hidden. "Organization..." he said at last, as if trying on the word. He considered it and he even repeated it once, but quieter and more to himself. "...organization." He got up from the table then and fetched his baldric. Swinging from the bottom of this was the basket hilted cutlass he wore more often than any other weapon he owned. He drew it out, and she tried not to flinch. He admired it a moment. Then, while swinging it about a little he asked her, "What think you of this blade?" The question seemed to throw her a bit, for she seemed more distracted by the weapon in his hand than the question. "Captain?" was all she managed. "What do you think of it, Miss Smith? What value would you place on it?"

He put his pen down and looked up with an expression that was altogether flat yet focused on the conversation. His face was unpleasantly unreadable. It had gone entirely flat, but for the eyes which scrutinized her for a long while. He continued in this manner for awhile, holding her gaze when she was able to hold his. Then he gestured to the empty chair opposite the table. There followed an awkward moment when Tudor didn't seem to know what to do with the armload of dishes she was burdened with, but she set them down again and took the seat across from him. Still he watched here. Finally he broke the silence with two words. "Serving wench." It was neither a question nor a comment, but a little of both and neither. If he was trying to make her uncomfortable, he had succeeded. She was accustomed to his sometimes silence, especially when he was working and she was doing her duties about the room, but this was quite different. This was an inquisition intriguing and also horrible. "Serving wench." he repeated in that same emotionless tone. "Tell me, Miss Smith, how would you distinguish the two occupations? What would you say are the primary differences between a serving wench and a steward."

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"And you find that being Steward aboard this ship is rewarding enough for you?" he said, passing over her question while he continued to pen the previous day's calculations on the charts of La Blanquilla. His tone was relatively flat, and one might have thought he was but half interested in the conversation at all, since his eyes never left his work.

July 19, 1704 - Ward Room aboard the Watch Dog Third Bell of the Forenoon Watch Miss Smith entered the ward room to find that only the Captain remained, the other officers having gone to their respective duties. He looked up briefly from his notes and ledgers, before returning to his work, and he said nothing for a full five minutes. Tudor was almost finished with her work there when he began a list of questions without looking up. "Do you enjoy your time here aboard, Miss Smith?"

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The place may be quiet, but I don't mind being the proprietor tonight. Good company is the wine of life.

William agreed, filling the Quartermaster's glass as he spoke. "I have no quarrel with the list and the addition of the small lad is a wise one. Take pistols, muskets and hangers for half the company and pistols and tools for the other half." "Aye." The Quartermaster agreed. "Some lanterns may be in order." "And rope." Mister Warren added. They nodded together. The second bell of the Forenoon Watch sounded, though it was somewhat muted by the downpour. July 19, 1704 - Ward Room of the Watch Dog Second Bell of the Forenoon Watch

"Yes...a musket, pistol and hanger for each man...and woman." he amended, with a small nod toward the Steward. "But the Doctor will not let you have Pascal so soon after the accident, Mister Pew." he said, tapping his own shoulder. "Ahhh. I had quite forgotten, sah." "Take...Monahan. The man has a steady hand with a pistol." "He is a fine rower." Mister Warren added. William nodded and was quiet a moment in thought. Drinks were sipped and then all heads turned upward a moment as lightning touched down somewhere on La Blanquilla, followed by the crackle and boom of thunder. The rain on the weatherdecks redoubled and a downpour turned everything in view from the stern windows into a blur. The Master Gunner frowned. Mister Lasseter raised one eyebrow slightly as he tipped his glass. William continued without comment. "Mister Lasseter will scout out from the Watch Dog aboard Patricia. We shall remain in close company with the cutter while the longboat is off alone on the errand of exploration. Should the longboat crew come adrift of any troubles, you are to fire three good volleys and we will return to gather your party, Mister Pew. Otherwise, you are to circumnavigate each part of Los Hermanos by land, where the sea permits egress enough for landing, until you have arrived at the Southern most part of it. There to rendezvous with the Watch Dog. And Gentleman...I will have no risk taking, especially with loose debris in the water and the hazards of so many reefs. Mister Lasseter, I should like a round dozen aboard Patricia, armed and equipped with such haversacks and bags as they can carry unhindered. I'll leave the choice of sailors to you and Mister Warren." And so he did, saying nothing more on the matter as he began to eat the food before him. What followed was mixed conversation about the islands, weather and the boats.

William took his seat and plating his fingers together he leaned back in his chair, leaving his food for the moment. "Miss Smith. Gentleman. Today we seek out the hidden fortunes whispered about in hushed tones among the hammocks below." There were a few smiles at this, for not a day nor hour had passed without some musing on that undiscovered treasure. The officers of the ship were ever reminding the men and women of the crew not to idle away their time on hopes of gold and great wealth, for the Ilex fortune was still just a vague and unproved cache. This of course had had the opposite effect and the fires of their imaginations were only fueled by these repeated cautions. It was fast becoming a concern to William that the Ilex fortune would prove to me misfortune if the cache was but a small one. Mutiny, the capstone of all unrest, was an ever-present issue with all captains. "We shall send two parties out by boat today. The one shall be headed by Mister Lasseter in the cutter, with Mister Warren at the tiller." Both men nodded. "Their mission, to find the Ilex fortune. I should like the second to do explorations of those promontories East of us. I should like a thorough examination of the many escarpments of Los Hermanos, starting at the Northern most part on Southward, and I would know if more of the Apollo might be found. Mister Pew. Do you have your party selected?"

Mister Lasseter finished placing his heavy gear on a hook by the aft companionway and took his customary seat at table, pinching some of the dry powder even before he sat down. Then a glass was placed in his hand and he drank it with less show of the bite that was want to make every other man at the table blanch. He proffered it again and William filled it. "The rain 'as made a mock of the Fore Topgallant Yard." Mister Lasseter said matter-of-factly. "Ciaran's man, McGinty, says she's showing signs of fatigue." "Ciaran's man...?" William said, bemused that the lookouts were now becoming an entity unto themselves. "Ciaran's crew amongst the clouds." Mister Pew said, his glass lifted in a kind of toast before he downed it. "That lot is as thick as thieves." Mister Warren added. There were nods and affirmatives all around. "There's a split at the starboard yard end." The Quartermaster continued. William nodded. Mister Badger had watched that very timber with an ernest eye ever since the rain had set in upon them. It was not the finest bit of beam in the rigging and bore watching, especially with the added weight of water in the canvas there. "Have Mister Morgan keep a wary eye on it for now. We'll see what the Carpenter can do with those timbers salvaged from the Apollo." "Aye." he agreed.

July 19, 1704 - Ward Room of the Watch Dog First Bell of the Forenoon Watch William stood at the head of the table, already administering a dark liquor into the various glasses about the ward room table. Each drink went down with the usual order of reactions and expressions; a short report of sucked air through set teeth followed by an appreciative smile or a nod. It was strong but warming stuff. Mister Youngblood and Mister Warren sat at opposite sides of the table, each discussing the interminable weather. Petee was in a stew about the excess rain on the main guns and the heavy damp below. Twice since rising he had checked the powder stores for signs of dew from the upper decks. With the arrival of Mister Pew, the Master Gunner made inquiries after the fine powder stores used only for the pistols and muskets. It was these store that were most vulnerable to the wet and persistent weather.