William Brand

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog 2 Bells of the Morning Watch William awoke in a darkness that was quickly giving over to grey, and he knew that the dawn was almost upon them. As tired as he had been, he might have slept on into the morning late, but his thoughts would not have let him. Instead, he slipped from his hammock and bedclothes, and once he had on shirt and breaches, he went barefoot into the Ward Room. Here, he set out his logbooks and the few charts he had in his possession, giving special attention to those marked with the tiny island of La Blanquilla. Somewhere ahead of him at the foremost part of the quarterdeck, the bell inscribed with the ship's name was being struck. He noted what could only be the second bell of morning watch and he began to pen notes in his logbook at once. After a time, the Quartermaster noted the light coming through the small windows to either side of the wheelhouse and he might have tipped his hat to the Captain below, but William was too engrossed in his charts to look up from them. Instead, Mister Lasseter sent Jerrod Styles to fetch the Captain's Steward, that she might be available for errands and orders. All the while, William scrutinized the charts of La Blanquilla with a heavy magnifying glass. The charts, while detailed in numbers and positions, were almost bereft of any real decoration and William wondered, not for the first time, if La Blanquilla was a barren place. It was called "The White One" and William was hopeful that the name implied clean beaches or white stone. It was his fear that the name might be a kinder way of saying "The Barren One" or "The Stark Island". He could see no streams, ponds or places of water marked anywhere on the maps of it and this was a concern too important not to be worried about. It was ever on the mind of any Captain, that while surrounded by water, he should be concerned of water. One could never go far over the salt seas of the Earth without something fresh in one's own stores. And to counterpoint this thought, Tudor Smith arrived in the Ward Room bearing a tray freshly fetched from the galley, and featured among the many delicacies of the tray, was a glass of fresh water.

This thread is provided for those writers that make up the crew of the Watch Dog. This thread is for contributions to the tale of the Watch Dog. Any comments or questions about the Watch Dog outside of the story can be sent to the Captain or any other crew member you may wish to address. They will be happy to answer any questions you may have. Further information about the Watch Dog can be found in the first enstallment entitled "Pyrates of the West Coast, Chipping Under Oakwood" here on the Pub and in "Tome of the Watch Dog" on the Watch Dog website. Anyone wishing to join the story may contact William Red Wake or Dorian Lasseter to see how, where and when they might enter into the tale. We are ever seeking new writers and players for our small stage. For more information, please visit our website at: The Watch Dog The Watch Dog Book ll Prologue In the summer of 1704, a clergyman possessed of a small fortune and no small desire to adventure upon the seas of the Caribbean, rescued an aging ship from the brink of decay. The Nubian Trader was all but lost to the erosion of time and the sea when it was purchased by the Monsignor Diego de la Vega for a modest sum and towed to safe harbors. Once secured, she underwent a resurrection of a kind, brought back to life by the ministrations of many craftsman and carpenters. Mallets and mauls were employed day and night in an effort to recover what might have been lost in a few short weeks. The fires of the blacksmith's forge never diminished in those few days and the pitch fires burned brightly day and night. As she rose from her own ashes, literally restored by fires fueled from her own ancient hemp and timbers, wanderers from every walk of life found their way to her. Many of them were but dusty vagabonds attracted to the idea of liberty and spoils. Some came for escape. Some came for work. Each of them had a story, a past, and a shadow. By all estimations, they were a mixed lot of many talents both elevated and devious. Craftsman, soldiers, sailmakers, pirates, gentlemen, cooks, scoundrels, ladies, and able seamen all gathered into a crew that took shape as quickly as the ship herself. They were the strangest flock ever gathered under one clergyman. They worked day and night together, restoring the ship in ten shorts days, and before the paint was yet dry they were speaking of her by a different name. What had been the blackbirder, known as the Nubian Trader, was now the Watch Dog. The noble head of a sober mastiff replaced the wasted figurehead, long since damaged by time and neglect. A second bell was cast bearing the ship's new name. And the stern was set with new stars and a warning... ...Cavete a Canibus. Beware of the Dogs. The weeks that followed the Watch Dog's rebirth were filled with events marked by tragedy and discovery. Friendships were made. Loyalties secured. Alliances came from strange quarters. Bargains were struck. Enemies were rooted out. The moon did not wax fully twice before they had seen thefts, poisonings, celebrations, kidnappings, festivals, accusations, rewards, drownings, imprisonments, escapes, deaths, proclamations, funerals and all manner of treacheries. As the Bard himself had written in his day, "...the funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables..." for tragedy was often followed swiftly upon by great prosperity, and death and life mingled daily on her decks. Much that can and ought to be said of that first chapter in the Watch Dog's history is too deep and too varied for a simple explanation. Like a Moses, it is often easier to summarize the whole of creation in a few short verses. Like the Watch Dog herself, the narrators that make up her small crew are ever compelled to move forward with the wind rather than spend too long a time in any one place. What follows is the second chapter in the travels and travails of the Watch Dog.

Best sleeping pyrate ever.

So would I. I've only ever seen period references to "powder monkey" from 1765 on up. EDIT. The Oxford English Dictionary also states that the origin of the term is 1682. And I found this from Blackwell's New England Books Project. It has a reference to the term powder monkey at the very end... " JOHN, Ipswich, physician, had perhaps liv. in Boston, for a mortg. to him of est. rec. here Vol. X. 233, titles him now of Ipswich, chirurg. and the date is 9 Oct. 1652. His Excor. Robert Paine sold, Dec. 1677, the Boston est. to William Hudson. He perhaps resid. at Hampton 1640, some time at Salem,, was cous. of Rev. John, and that benefact. of Harv. Coll. ment. by Pierce, 35; also, I presume, the freem. of 1643; in his will of 28 Dec. 1652, pro. on new. yrs. day, 25 Mar. 1656, speaks of no. w. or ch. [see abstr. in Essex Inst. I. 50.] His benefaction to Harv. Coll. was realiz. in 1658, as the invaluab. History, by Quincy, shows us: "obtained in horses L72." See I. 513 of that work. JOHN, Haverhill, elder br. of James, b. at Haverhill in Co. Suffk. 5 Nov. 1606, as Mather tells, III. cap. 31, or p. 167 in the London ed. of Magn. Yet "where his educ. was, I have not been inform." he says, "the first notice of him that occurs to me, being in the yr. 1639, when he came over into these parts." In Eng. I found that he was matric. at Emanuel, 1622, and had his A. B. 1626, and A. M. 1630. He had begun his serv. in Eng. "at a very small place" wh. was Hadleigh in Co. Suffk. and in this country, preach. first at Kittery or York in 1641, as Winthrop II. 29 relates, but Mather, wh. loves always to be indefinite, and sometimes hides his ignorance under periphrasis, would magnify his watch over the flock at H. to "as many yrs. as there are sabbaths in the yr." We kn. that he was chos. and ord. in Oct. 1645, when the ch. was gather. Winthrop II. 252; and that flock he could, of course, serve but 48 yrs. He d. 27 Dec. 1693; and could the truth ever be sufficient for the author of the Magnalia, he might have call. it a very honor. and protract. course of duty. On 19 Nov. preced. he preach. an excell. sermon, enter. the 88th yr. of his age, "the only sermon that ever was. or perhaps ever will be preach. in this country, at such an age," adds the eclesiast. historian, tho. since that day sev. more aged pastors have in like kind, obey. their call. He was prob. the freem. of 3 May 1649, By his w. Alice Edmunds. brot. from Eng. wh. d. bef. him, he had Elizabeth b. 7 Apr. 1647, wh. m. 1665 Nathaniel Saltonstall, and d. 29 Apr. 1714; and Mary, 24 June 1649, m. e June 1672, Rev. Benjamin Woodbridge, and d. 11 Oct. 1680. JOHN, Newton, s. prob. eldest of William of Sudbury, b. in Eng. a. 1626, m. a 1650, Hannah, d. of [[vol. 4, p. 409]] the first Edward Jackson of the same, had Hannah; John, b. 26 Jan. 1654, d. in few mos.; Rebecca, 15 June 1655; John, again, 8 Mar. 1658; Elizabeth 18 June 1660; Deborah, 19 July 1662; William, 19 Nov. 1664; Richard, 15 Nov. 1666; Mercy, 27 Jan. 1669; Edward, 13 Mar. 1671; Eleazer, 26 Feb. 1673; Jonathan, 22 Apr. 1674; and Joseph, 15 Nov. 1677. He was of the first selectmen when the town was set off from Cambridge, freem. 1685, rep. 1689 and sev. yrs. aft. and d. 2 July 1708. His w. had d. 21 Apr. 1704, aged 73. Hannah m. 8 June 1670, Thomas Greenwood; Elizabeth m. 7 June 1679, Joshua Fuller; and Deborah m. 2 Feb. 1682, John Wythe. JOHN, Newport, came late in life, aft. hear. of d. of his s. Thomas, as inconsisit. tradit. tells, prob. a. 1690, took charge of his gr. childr. and d. says the gr.-st. in Apr. 1698, aged 79. Possib. he had serv. fifty-five yrs. bef. in the Parlim. army in the gr. civil war, and that was the origin of the fable as to Thomas. But Thomas d. at mid. age, and as the sacred tradit. of serv. in Cromwell's army belongs to him, and not his f. it will be seen that he was not old eno. to be a powder monkey to the gr. Protector." I have found several other vague refernces to the term powder monkey in reference to Oliver Cromwell and the Great Civil War.

The Navy Historical Center has this to say about the term Powder Monkey. "A "powder monkey" was a boy who carried gun powder from the magazine to cannons and performed other ordnance duties on a warship (usage dating to 1682)."

Which one first? Nay, lass. All together. I shall have a table placed near the tub that you might eat while you linger.

and perhaps a side of this...

For slaking might I recommend Appleton Estate Extra Jamaica Rum ...and in that same vein, some Jamaican Jerk Grilled Chicken with Plantains and Okras.

When does the term "powder monkey" first appear?

I wonder how we would equate the promotion in naval terms. Would you be the Ship's Master or the Master Carpenter? Congratulations either way.

Whenever someone uses the term "A Modest Proposal" I always think of something else.

Dodge. Parry. Reposte. Everyone step back and give these two magazines some room.

I would have to know the person in question and I would have to know the context. I would also have to understand the situtation from both fronts. Since I don't, and I doubt anyone here could honestly claim to themselves, apart from you and him, any advice you get from the pirates you barely know here might be poor advice indeed.

Um... I assume he meant to say 'lose' not 'loose'? And if so, which translation corresponds to his request? "drop it or lose it all" as in "stop speaking about a particular subject or you'll lose everything". "Get rid of something in your possession or lose the rest." It's hard to say wihtout understanding the context.

You should buy a lot of cheap netting. You can get bamboo and netting at most craft stores. And potted trees. The place is coming along nicely.

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Second Bell of Middle Watch (0100) "Mister Ciaran." William called, motioning the man over to him. "Aye, Captain." William looked the man up and down and shook his head. "By my reckoning you haven't slept since this morning. You and I are doubling and tripling our watches of late." "Aye." Ciaran agreed, not sure how he could deny it. "I want it to stop. You have been the very eyes of the Watch Dog at times and those eyes need resting. You'll keep your watches and your rest when they come, sir, or I'll have you shackled in the cable tier." "My apologies, Captain." Ciaran said, embarassed, but proud of the compliment amidst the rebuke. William waved this apology off. "As I said, I am as guilty as any other these last few days." "Aye." Mister Lasseter agreed over-loudly from his place nearby. William tried not to smile and failed, nodding. "Now off with you. We will be forced to rename the main top to 'Ciaran's Nest' if you spend any more time upon it, and it doesn't belong to you." "Aye-aye." Ciaran said with a hint of a smile and he sauntered off to his waiting hammock. William watched the rest of the crew a moment, but with the Quartermaster watching him with a long regard that said 'Well? Why are you still here and not abed?', William relented and gave the deck over to him. He gave orders then to plot a course leading to La Blanquilla as he departed down the companionway leading directly to the Ward Room. He was almost below when he turned back on the stair and said. "Seven." "Beg pardon, Cap'n?" "I was wrong in my count before. We left seven crew members ashore." William watched Mister Lasseter do the counting in his head before adding a name to the count. "Armand." William went below, and once he was in his cabin, he climbed into his hammock and laid there a long while in thought. In one long day since returning from the Don's estate he had witnessed more than he cared to. He had returned from the festivities of the Don's estate only to find Jack St. Anthony shot and the Monsignor killed. He had then executed Augustus Muller. He had put to sea to bury Jack and Diego. He had witnessed de la Vega's belongings sold before the mast. They had returned to La Margarita only to bid farewell to seven of their own crew members and to take on new one's with all of their troubles. The French spy Gaultier had come and gone with his treacheries. He had risked all in intrigues only to see Gaultier shot aboard the Watch Dog. And finally, in the end, they had abandoned one man to whatever end the Don would see fit to grant him. William was never more glad to escape into sleep.

"We shall need to circumnavigate a portion of La Margarita..." William said, pausing to gage the wind. "East by Northeast, if you please. We'll adjust her course a mile off." "Aye, Cap'n. East, Northeast, Mister Badger!" The orders went on down the line from the Quartermaster to the Bosun and from the Bosun to the watches. The crew, some tired from waking and some tired from the lingering watch duty before, moved as well as any fresh replacements. The Watch Dog, moving sluggishly at first, gaining speed by gradual but exponential increments. She was soon moving at a swift enough pace for everyone to note the decline of the shoreline. Over the first half mile gained, Nigel Brisbane gave the wheel over to Mister Warren. William dismissed the Coxswain's Mate from duty as he did others, by passing orders forward to thin the ranks of the previous watch to their waiting hammocks below. As the Watch Dog gained speed and her management became easier, the previous watch retired to rest.

July 18, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Middle Watch begins (0000) The eighth bell had sounded and second watch was ten minutes along when Ciaran called down from above. William went immediately to the rail to note the quick return of the sprinting figures. "Thank you, Mister Ciaran." Mister Lasseter appeared at this time and barked orders before joining with Mister Badger who was administering orders to the crew above and at the waist. They conversed at length about the necessity for the cutter to be put out, but Mister Badger seemed confident he could stir this 'Sigh of a wind' as he put it, and they both agreed to test the lads aloft with some delicate alterations on the sails. Mister Warren came up to the wheelhouse and stood with Nigel Brisbane at either side of the hand wheel at the ready. Mister Pew had thinned the number of armed men to four, and even these lads stood hard by to take up any slack where it was necessary. While the crew scrambled to keep up with the Bosun and Quartermaster, the two runners came aboard and went straight to the Captain. Mister Lasseter joined William at the stairway of the Quarterdeck where McGinty and Fitch confirmed that the Captain's letter was in the hand of a junior magistrate and that it was to be delivered to the Don as early as possible. William thanked them for the risks and responsibility they had shouldered in that short errand and asked them to join their fellow crew members at the lines. The Captain and Quartermaster made their way to the quarterdeck and stood together like mismatched chess pieces with their hands behind their backs. They exchanged ready smiles and William gave the much anticipated order. "Take her out, Mister Lasseter."

Well, thank you, Kent. Just for that I'm opening up a second tab for you at the pub.

She was suffering from wood rot and she sank. I contacted the owners to see what could be done about a month ago, but they informed me that too much of her was destroyed by the flow of water to salvage.

The people with the witness protection program are going to be pissed. They've relocated me three times since June.

"Aaaaaye." William said in a long sigh. "Thank you, Mister Lasseter. Wet them all with a quarter ration of rum when we're to sea. They've done us a good service while at port." "Aye, Cap'n." Mister Lasseter returned, both in agreement and partly in his own good humor for the rum. "They'll breeze off that rum before long. I have not seen a crew so anxious for the sea in a long time." William watched them spilling topside and he looked up for the tenth time since the runners departed to see if Ciaran had sighted them. Ciaran shook his head at the unvoiced inquiry.

After the two had gone below, William turned to the Quartermaster and gave the first of many orders. "Let's rouse the lads and lasses of the second watch, Mister Lasseter. All hands topside and prepared to put her to sea, if you please. We'll make her ready ere the runners return."

your limo...

The Hector is a beauty. I weep for the loss of the Pelican. Damn terrible loss.