William Brand

"Indeed, Mister Lasseter." William surveyed the water ahead of the Watch Dog. The debris was small, but enough of it belied the loss of a ship, though there was not sufficient flotsam to determine its size, nor was there any immediate signs of a hulk or mass on any of the reefs ahead. Los Hermanos was near at hand, away to the East and South and a boat may have run aground there, sending these few remains Westward with the tide. It was also just as likely the bulk of the ship was gone below the waves. William began barking orders to the various officers of the ship and Mister Badger appeared just in time for his, dressed only in a night shirt and slops. "Mister Badger! Reef the Mainsail! Mister Lasseter, mark our position for soundings later, but keep the leads tossing for our own sake. Then have the barge swung out and prepared for transport if necessary. Mister Pew! I want six armed men of the watch! Muskets and pistols if you please! Hatchets and axes for the deck hands and mind the powder in all this rain." Mister Warren reported to the Captain in short order. "Cap'n. Patricia's been divided in her seams at the stem. Not much damage there, but she'll need the Carpenter before she can be put to sea proper." "How is our Mister Smyth?" "He's fine, Cap'n. Nothing but bruises and scrapes and then only to his dignity." "Thank you, Mister Warren. Rest is yours if you'll have it. If not, a meal and one bell's rest before you take the wheel." "Aye, Cap'n." They went to work and not one of them paused to satisfy their curiosity at the rail, even when Ciaran called out, "Body in the water! Abaft the Starboard beam!"

Aye. Safety first, but entertainment is a very close second. Here are some other things I would like to see at PIP. 1 - More Pirates. Much more. 2 - More period freebies. If enough of us pooled our resources and prospective talents, we could make small period items to trade. This may be a little ambitious for pirates on a budget, but I'd love to give out freebies of some sort and have an exchange of goods between crews. 3 - We need a giant group picture or two. Crews should be photographed under their flag and then all the pirates together. 4 - I beachside barbeque would also be fun. Roasted pig on a spit. 5 - More live musicians. The piper was a delight and all of the musicians who played on and off the stage were wonderful. We might have a class where we all learn a few period shanties together. 6 - A knot contest. We could see who can tie various sailor knots the fastest. 7 - Feats of strength. 8 - A climbing contest, if some upright rigging with shrouds could be set up.

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Eight Bells of the Afternoon Watch, First Dog Watch Begins The sounding of the eighth bell of Afternoon Watch brought a groan from the sailors forward who were locked in a contest of labor. Friendly and not so friendly jibes passed between them as was want with sailors as they stowed or exchanged their work with the fresh watch coming on duty. In the Ward Room, Captain Brand excused Mister Badger with his thanks for maintaining his post through long hours of concentration and effort. Mister Badger went gratefully from the room with little more than a tired smile and an 'Aye-Aye' made up of what strength he had left. In the galley, Mister Gage had set upon the tiresome, but important task of drying fish for storage, content that fresh stores of that providence could be resupplied daily along these shores. All was well aboard the Watch Dog as the two watches exchanged labor and hammocks, the fresh sailors coming up into the rain to take over at the barrels, lead lines and rigging, while the well worn, but content laborers of the afternoon retired below to drier clothes and drier quarters. Just off the Watch Dog's starboard beam, between it and shore, the cutter was preparing to return in exchange for a fresh boat header and a few lead tossers. They had endured the rain, taking on no small quantity of water. This normally might have threatened the cutter, but the sea was relatively flat despite the downpour and neither Jim Warren or Andrew Smyth felt inclined to bail. Instead, they resolved to drain the water while against the 'Dog and were discussing this as they drew near to the light frigate. Smyth, who was at Patricia's bow, noticed too late a great timber of planking barely kept at the water's surface by its own buoyancy lying directly in their path. The rain was coming down so heavily that anything not protruding from the water was masked by the spray. The cutter was moving at a fair clip when it thudded hard upon the timber and threw Andrew forward just as he was standing in the boat. He pitched clean over and into the water, sprawling out on the significant flotsam. It was wide and long enough to support him like a raft, but he still flailed a bit for purchase, too surprised not to. Mister Warren was on his feet almost at once, carried forward a little by the unexpected lurch. He moved to the bow as easily as he might have through a market street, weaving past the single mast to investigate the situation. Overhead and just off the cutter's larboard bow, the lookouts of the Watch Dog looked down upon this development. No one had noticed the timber in the shallows until Andrew's surprised cry had awoken them to it. Now, Ciaran, who was half way down the rigging and on his way to bed, echoed McGinty overhead. "Man overboard! Hands and lines to the Starboard Rail!" It was a cautionary cry. Mister Smyth was in no real danger, but the brevity of the lookouts demanded that they draw attention to the man in the water. Sharks had not been sighted anytime since coming to La Blanquilla and Smyth was a good swimmer, but the crew was at the rail in short order just the same. The real danger lay in the damage to the cutter itself. The rough end of the broad debris had struck Patricia were the overlapping planking joined the stem of the small craft. A split too small to be dangerous in clearer weather, now threatened the water laden craft. Mister Warren, experienced with the launches of the 'Dog like no other aboard, assessed the danger and resolved it in short order. The water was shallow enough to make the loss of the boat nearly impossible, so instead of bailing, he took up the long line coiled in the stem and threw it to the reaching hands at the Watch Dog's waist. The crew hauled up on it hard, drawing the cutter past the debris as Andrew was helped into the boat by the Coxswain. All the while, the various lookouts, including Ciaran who had rushed aloft again, sent down their various calls, alerted now to before unnoticed threats now perceived in the gloom. "Two barrels off the larboard beam!" "Debris two points off the Starboard bow!" The Captain and Quartermaster joined the throng at the rail, adding their hands to the line.

I was only able to catch a little, but I enjoyed it very much.

Silver.

It is entirely too bad that we are all separated by so many miles. Think of the feasts we would have.

We are also serving pulled pork with coleslaw and hush puppies.

You may say so, and thank you. Today's special is Goan Curried-Fish Stew and Cactus Salad.

The gate isn't an issue. Everyone who camped in side was given the gate combination so that we might come and go from town as we wished. I had to let a few people in who arrived late and didn't have the gate combination, but for the most part, everyone was able to pass through when they wanted to. As for fire issues, we were limited to the one pit. I think another camp had a fire pit as well, but the fire was limited. If we are careful to empty the trash in the evenings, I think we can avoid the floating fuel problems. And for anyone from the fort reading this...Don't be alarmed. We don't want to imply that the fort and patrons were ever in any danger. We're just getting all issues out in the open.

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Between Seven and Eight Bells of the Afternoon Watch The Captain, Quartermaster and Bosun spent the next hour in the company of fresh cooked fish and charts. Soundings taken at the bow were relayed back along the rails and down the aft scuttle to the Ward Room. As mouthfuls of food disappeared, notations of the surrounding waters appeared in matching sets of logbooks and on old charts. Out in the open, everything was awash with a heavy rain. Those who had the watch duty of the afternoon, replenished what little water had been used already in their short voyage from La Margarita. Casks, flasks and barrels all came up empty and went down full. The duty of the day was light, so some were put to the task of washing and cleaning clothes, hammocks and pans sent out from the galley. Mister Gage had caught a great variety of fish off the Larboard side of the 'Dog as she went. There seemed to be no short supply of them around these shores and it would go a long way to keeping the beef and other provisions from being used up too quickly. Even now, as he came out into the waist, he scanned the island blurred by rain and wondered if anything edible would be found there. For while the direct cause of scurvy would not be discovered for some time, the threat of it was ever present. This thought was ever on his mind, and while Mister Gage was no doctor, he recognized that as the ship's cook, variety proved to be the rule of the day in keeping up the general health of all aboard. He also knew, by a chance reading of one John Woodall*, that lemon juice was recommended as an aid against the dreaded ailment of scurvy, though he doubted lemon trees grew or could be made to grow on La Blanquilla. Still, he thought some substitute might be found. Even in the gloom of so much rain one could see cactus in all its varieties. * Footnote - Two physicians who played an enormous role in decreasing the mortality from the disease of scurvy were John Woodall and James Lind. In 1617, Woodall wrote The Surgeon's Mate, which described scurvy and listed lemon juice as the cure. Woodall persuaded the East India Company to provide lemon juice for its sailors. In 1747, Lind, an officer in the British Royal Navy, conducted a study on 12 patients with scurvy. He divided the patients into 6 groups of 2 and gave each group a different remedy. Only the group given oranges and lemons recovered. It took Lind 41 years to convince the British Royal Navy to implement his recommendation. The British used lime juice instead of lemon or orange juice to prevent the disease, and the sailors became known as limeys.

I don't know if they were camping in the fort and I don't remember names. Besides, they weren't bad people, just...well...drunk and hungry.

The Captain's Steward made here way aft and entered the Ward Room with a heavy laden tray. She placed it on the table, surprised to find not one single scroll, book or chart anywhere upon it. It was not uncommon for her to remove a great quantity of papers and tomes in an effort to make space for food. The Captain ate at such irregular intervals that she was ever interrupting his scribblings. Overhead, there was a very weak roll of thunder. The only real thunder since the rain had begun. The air was so heavy with the perfume of rain that it quite overwhelmed the smell of the Watch Dog's old timbers. When she was finished preparing the table she crept to the Captain's door and listened a moment, hearing nothing. All was quiet, but for the rain. She decided to take advantage of the officer's toilet while the Ward Room was empty. Like the head, cold air crept up from below, but it afforded a great deal more privacy, and she was glad for it. It also pitched a great deal less than the accommodations forward. It was a relatively warm and comfortable little room, despite it's function. When she was finished, she went to the Captain's door and knocked. William was awake and at the door faster than most people. It was not uncommon for him to answer the door, rather than calling for any entrance. He stood in a loose shirt and slops, rubbing one eye with the flat of his hand. "Mister Badger sends word that the storm is arrived." William smiled at this since he could feel and hear the water on the Watch Dog. "Aye. Thank Mister Badger for me." "Aye-aye, Captain." She gestured to the table and the food laid out upon it. "Mister Gage has prepared some local fare." "Ahhh...fish. Excellent. Send him my compliments as well and please invite Mister Badger down from the weather. Is Mister Lasseter above?" She nodded as she ladled warm food into a shallow bowl. "He's at the table on the Quarterdeck." "Fine. Ask them both out of the rain and have them choose two more men aft for calling the soundings down the scuttle." She nodded, going forward out the Ward Room door to deliver messages to Gage, Lasseter and Badger. He dressed quickly, pulling his hair back under a hat and stretching a spine put out of place by the hammock. He washed his face and hands in a basin provided by Tudor and placed himself before the hot food, taking the time to eat in a relaxed way he hadn't enjoyed since the Don's grand ball.

No, these were festival attendees in full costume. The main gate is locked after hours.

Aye. A toast! Better to be a wise man in a village of idiots than a village idiot in a village of wise men!

I can only foresee one problem in camping too near the pub. Intoxicated pirates. They mean well, but sometimes the drink does the talking. We stayed up the last night pretty late, but long after I had put out the fire and gone to bed, we had some people come through camp and start the fire again. First, they rifled through the trash looking for food. Yes, I did say "looking for food". They pulled out the trash onto the ground. Then one of the more unsteady lasses dumped all of the paper plates from the trash in the fire pit and lit it. Then she walked away and left floating bits of burning trash to fly about the camp. I had to get dressed again and stamp out a few fires and clean up the garbage. This happened three times. People would wander over and start a fire and leave. If we actually had "watches" any problems could be monitored, but some of the campers may wish to sleep. Still, the fort makes the decisions on where we get to camp, but they may be pretty flexible if enough of us want it a certain way. It never hurts to ask.

William walks over and takes a chair at the same table with a tenative eye. He places a plate half way across the table. Hungry...?

That's one expensive pousse-cafe.

I don't mind one bit. The purpose of this establishmenr has ever been to slake and satiate. We do it often here with music in lieu of food.

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Five bells of the Afternoon Watch Mister Badger called after Miss Smith as she went below, "Best rouse the Captain, lass." Her head nodded as she disappeared, but any response she may have made was lost under the sound of rain as it swelled a moment on the weather decks. She made her way to a modest sea chest filled with belongings which were just as modest. She rifled through her few possessions until she found her seldom used heavy weather gear. Harold Press had given it to her in trade during the Danzig storm for what he had called "three grand favors". The first of these favors came in the form of tailoring, for much of Harold's clothes were worn past modesty and he begged her the favor of a good shirt. She chose to make it from the yardage of one of her good skirts. This had much embarrassed Harold and he claimed that her cloth was too good for a working sailor. Still, Tudor was pragmatic. She needed far less skirts aboard the Watch Dog. Slops were the order of the day and so Harold had taken the shirt gratefully. The second favor had come in the form of a glass of wine. Harold had once promised a dying friend to drink him a toast every year on the anniversary of his death and Harold had found himself with no wine on that day whereby he might keep the oath. He had implored Miss Smith to fetch him something worthy of a toast and she had managed him a small glass from the Captain's table. The Captain was not in the habit of much drink and often failed to drink what was his full measured portion. Tudor had brought a half drained cup to Mister Press, hoping it would serve, but admitted to him that the glass was but the remains of the Captain's unfinished glass. Harold had smiled then and said, "What the Cap'n 'as deigned to touch is not beneath a working man's scrut'ny." She had noted then with what reverence he took the cup in hand. He was as solemn then as any parishioner, taking the unfinished cup like a sacrament to his departed friend. He raised it and spoke a small litany. "There is no 'eav'n, but your company. There is no 'ell, but your absence. 'ere's to you, Jason." Not knowing what to say in the face of this small ceremony, Tudor had asked him what the third favor should be. He had smiled and said most matter-of-factly, "Friendship". She thought of this as she donned the weather gear that was almost too large for her frame. Making her way aft and up again, she went to wake the Captain with warm food and news from above.

I wasn't expecting Shea's live steel at PIP.

Well...I lost the majority of my clothes in the laundry room, including some pirate stuff. The house smells funny. But we still have each other.

Did you ever have one of those days? You're spouse comes home with the news that the company they work for picked them dead last for company raises even though they do most of the work. Then...this horrible smell starts to eek up through the floorboards and you find that your basement has flooded with raw sewege. Money you didn't have disappears into the hands of plumbers and city officials. And on top of all that, your mother-in-law chooses this day of all days to tell you how she feels about you and it isn't a good, huggy conversation. It's more of a seventh seal and end of the world conversation filled with revelations about her opinion of your failings. I...had...a...very...bad...day.

I want to be drowned in the tide for three days after I die, but the law would never allow it. Of course...I have sneaky friends.

Bilgemunky! You rascal! That is very good news...except, I'm gone every Sunday morning working! Still. Congratulations and the best of luck in this endeavour.

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the 25 foot Cutter, Patricia Between Six and Seven Bells of the Forenoon Watch Lawrence Dinwiddle was at the tiller of the cutter and explaining several key elements of understanding required to maneuver a craft of that size to the other able seamen in the boat. All of them were junior to him in age and experience except for Maurice Roche, who was taking soundings fore the mast. The cutter made it's way along the shore of La Blanquilla between the beach and the Watch Dog. The water was almost flat underneath them and it made the work of soundings easy for Maurice. Mister Roche was sounding as fast alone as the two men aboard the Watch Dog were together, but the water was significantly less deep and the shallows were fairly consistent in depth. Still, he was mindful to drop the line as often as he retrieved it, determined to know the island well enough to make a good report of it. Besides, the work was a pleasant break from the routines of maintenance aboard the light frigate and he enjoyed the smaller company of the cutter. Dinwiddle was also enjoying the change in tasks and gladly tutored the other junior seamen as they went. They answered questions almost as fast as he asked them. He tried to trip them up by asking questions in odd ways and by adding variables of circumstance to see if it changed their answers. Sometimes he asked them what would be done in a gale. Sometimes in a calm. He soon learned how much they understood for their short years. Had he been an egotistical man, he might have minded that that they knew so much despite the fact that many were almost half his age. A breeze was crossing the island almost perpendicular to their course by then and it bore the smell of a promised rain sometime in the evening. The sky overhead was blue enough to hurt one's eyes, but a grey line was forming on the Eastern horizon. It was too low for the men in the cutter to see, but both of them knew it was there. Still, Roche continued to drop the lead and cry the depth across the still water to the Watch Dog.