William Brand

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.

Never be contrary to a woman with a weapon.

"No, no. It is time that I was up and about. I am most grateful." She poured a pitcher of fresh water (there being no short supply of it of late) into the basin and laid out a towel for his use. "Thank you, Miss Smith. Has the Quartermaster relieved Mister Badger on deck?" "Aye, sir." "Then fetch him down to the Ward Room for some fare and send for Mister Pew and Youngblood as well. Is Mister Warren on watch?" "Aye. He is drawing food and drink at the galley." "Send for him as well and be hard by to serve, Miss Smith. I'll have you sit at the table since you have a part in today's explorations." She gave an affirmative as she went out. William drowned his face in the basin and shaved it neatly in short order, dressing and going out to greet the officers as they arrived.

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Just after eight bells of the Morning Watch William awoke from a short but altogether decent night's sleep. He always slept well on rainy nights, especially after much work, and last night had been no exception. He had cocooned himself in warm blankets and gone right off. Now, the sunlight greased its way into the windows of the ward room and his cabin, and he caught the smells of food emanating from the adjacent room long before he heard his catlike Steward creeping about the place so as not to wake him. He wouldn't have noted her progress at all, but the large trapdoors which secreted the aft gunnery compartment tended to squeak under any additional weight, since the ward room table was of such a great weight itself, with all of it's hinged parts. "Miss Smith!" he called, stepping to the chilling deck boards. "A word if you please."

"Aye. Thank you." William drowns his feet in the basin and his mind in the firelight.

This is the life. Virtually speaking.

I can't vouch for the quality, but... http://www.mainebucket.com/index.cfm?fusea...84153&pageid=28 http://www.winebarrels.com/pages/barrels.html http://www.beaverbuckets.com/Barrels.htm

I'm kidding of course. This is Mister Lasseter.

Well, this is Henry Weinhard... And this is the Butcher of Jamaica that most of you know as Dorian Lasseter... I don't see a resemblance.

Very nice pics...

"And still the night improves!"

Thanks for the update, Sir Henry. Would you mind a reduntant safety officer for our encampment?

The Kate is particularly fine after dark when all of her scrapes and scratches are dulled and hidden by the darkness. Her peeling paint. Her damaged timbers. Yes, at night the Kate is a more elegant lady. The fireplace built into a breach on her starboard side forward, lights the main room of the establishment with an amber glow and makes shadows both whimsical and moody. The date palms can be heard whispering through an open window and the breeze moves what few lamps remain lit, their greasy light making Djin on the beams. When much of the clientele is gone for the night, one can pull up a chair in front of the fire and let the flames mesmerize and hypnotize one's thoughts. The past and present blend into a sort of hazy daydream. It's heady stuff. Thoughts that are more cobweb then discovery fill the corners of one's mind. Even now the proprietor relieves his feet of heavy footwear and places them soundly in a wash basin brimming with hot water. He sighs the sigh of a man worn from a good day's work. It's a good tired. A song drifts in from the kitchen where the cook is softly singing some half forgotten tune to himself. There is a soft thud as a sooty cat, black as the hour, drops from a table and waltzes over to the fire, twining and twining around the man's legs. "A quiet night and a good night. Wouldn't you agree, Mihos?"

July 19, 1704 - Weatherdecks of the Watch Dog Seven and Eight Bells of the Middle Watch Mister Badger busied himself with the inspection of lines as the dark hours passed. The rain slowed to a trickle, and for that he was grateful. Several times during the night he pressed fingers to his face, his nose still smarting from the elbow from before. Coffee came up once during his watch from the galley, borne by a somewhat sullen, but culled Hingerty. "Sorry about befo', Sah." he managed, as he passed a steaming cup into the hands of the Bosun. Mister Badger's reply was little more than a nod. He wasn't angry, just not in a mood to show cordiality to man still under a punishment. Hingerty had expected no more from the Bosun, and went about his new duties understanding what his punishment might have been.

mmmmm...jacket. You're beautiful.

Root beer all around!

seconded.

Thank you, John. I might make one just like that.

I cannot find any evidence of the folding razor before 1760. What did shaving knives look like before 1710?

Sooo...out of curiosity, how many of you pyrates have a Pyracy Tankard? Mine has become my desktop beverage holder of choice. Let's see those pictures.

I must be sick. I had to reread that three times.

I should like to see a really good night raid. We need a moat crossing and a midnight skirmish. Too bad we can't climb the fort walls.

I need this... Death warmed over am I.