William Brand

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.

I believe I speak for everyone when I say... ...PICTURES!

Office space. The movie that touches us all. NEXT... "Because in 10 seconds, he won't know you from kosher bacon."

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Third Bell of the Middle Watch With the Master-at-Arms and Steward retired, William wandered the deck in a rain that had dissipated to little more than a drizzle. He eventually found his way to the quarterdeck and stood awhile at the wheel where only Mister Badger and one of the few armed watchmen kept the night with a wrapped musket and dripping inclimate weather gear. The watchman was so tightly wrapped against the cold and rain that William would not have recognized him but for his voice, which offered a solitary acknowledgment of his title with an accompanying gesture of salute. After a time, Monsuier Chanault's fife could be heard against the still waning patter of rain. William had not noted his arrival on the weather decks, so he was surprised to hear the sound, but not displeased. Music at night was an opiate for weary nerves. The salve of it went out to every man and woman on the watch and served as much as the hot fare which occasionally came out from the steaming galley. For a time, no sound interrupted the solo performance but the accompaniment of the weather and the occasional bell of the watch. Sixth Bell of the Middle Watch The hours rolled by until the rain was almost altogether gone and still the clouds remained. By the smell of the air, they would probably see little respite the following morning. No, it was more than likely that the rain would not abate completely, but continue on for at least another full day. William finally gave over to his own aching bones. The injuries he had sustained during the past two months were too alive in the rain. The damp air reminded him of his hurts both old and newly healed and he was forced to give over the watch to Mister Badger.