William Brand

I would recommend animal names and names of European cities. Examples: Hound Stag Hammerhead Lynx coastal cities: gothanburg Bilbao Inverness Cagliari

Red Tooth Tolman I already have a porn name.

"Aye." William removed his bloodied coat as Mister Pew turned to go about his business. The door was almost closed before the Captain called him back again. "Mister Pew...please have any remaining personal effects belonging to the Monsignor and Jack brought to the ward room. I shall have to dispose of them. You have the deck."

William considered the question for a moment and then bade the Master-at-Arms to follow him down to the Ward Room. There they found a partial list as William had kept it when he was the Master-at-Arms. He perused it before handing it over to Mister Pew. "I apologize, Mister Pew, but unless you can recover the list from wherever it has disappeared to, you shall have to begin anew from this incomplete list of arms." "Aye, sah." "Of course, this affords us the opportunity to confirm the accuracy of the previous tally and be certain of our accuracy."

(Morning Watch aboard the Watch Dog) When both Petee and William had said all that could be said with silence, William ordered the Master Gunner to bed. When he was gone, the Captain made his revolutions about the ship then, stopping to speak shortly with some and walking with his head bent and his hands behind his back the rest of the time. He ruminated over the events of the previous day and measured the fortune and misfortune that had visited the Watch Dog in so short a time. Eventually he found himself before the Master-at-Arms. "Mister Pew. Report."

Would anyone like some Chicken Divan crepes?

I might be repeating some of these now, but... More Adjectives: Scabby Rusty Salty Sly Venomous Poisonous Filthy Callous Cold Moldy Grim Festering Corrupt Vengeful Loyal Brave Bloodthirsty Plaque Ridden Infested Jovial Thieving Slippery Dangerous Bleeding Limping Stubby More nouns: Barnacle Casket Belaying Pin Holystone Brass Monkey Bellrope Lanyard Stern Chaser Rum Glass Onion Bottle Ballast Flotsam Jetsam Storm Powder Horn Striker

Cool. I was credited on a random name generator. That's another first.

William nodded in return. "Carry on, Mister Pew. There are arms about that need storing." William managed a wan smile than. It was thin and it lasted only a moment. Mister Pew was off at once and William was assured immediately that he need not put any more thought on that matter. Mister Pew had ever followed orders with grace, haste and an exactness that dispelled all worries. Jack's boddy was carried to the side of Diego, where they sat together like to penitants in a quiet discussion of the afterlife. William ordered a shroud to cover both bodies together until such a time as all hands were aboard again. Only then would he think about the funeral matters of these two departed souls. Other orders were given, and over the next few minutes the watch changed from Middle to Morning Watch. The Bell was sounded and those crew not already awake came into their duties with wide eyes and stunned expressions as they learned of the recent discoveries and losses. William did not answer at first. Instead, he reached for the onion bottle that Mister Youngblood had been nursing and took a long swig from the rum there. When his throat was wet and the burning liquid had revived his all too tired frame, he looked the Master Gunner in the eye. "Mister Youngblood." was all he said at first. The Master Gunner made as if to speak again, but William raised a hand and shook his head. "No, Mister Youngblood. We'll fire the guns when words have been spoken over those disposed." He passed the bottle back to the Master Gunner. Petee took it, and unsure what to do under the scrutinizing eye of the Captain, he sipped from it and returned it again. In this silent fashion the bottle passed between them many times. Each had much on his mind, but what words could convey all that might or could be said? Blame and apology hung in the air. Accusations, reparations, punishments, sorrows, regrets, and questions went unspoken. Niether man said anything, and no one else aboard dared interrupt. This silence said more than anything and neither man chose to break the spell of it. Instead, as if in a shared trance born of fatigue and loss, they both made their way to the rail, trading not one, but eventually two bottles as the sky began to show its first true signs of dawn. Only two others aboard were more quiet.

In the interim between Kendra's departure and the arrival of Jack's hammock, William paced a tight circle on the gundeck. Mister Warren, Straw and Johnson had arrived on deck throughout the commotion and stood near at hand, each in the middle of his own dawning comprehension at what lay before them all. Most of the crew was silent. Many were shaken. When McGuinty was topside again, they set about wrapping Jack in the customary fashion. He was laid out in the canvas that he had laid out in each night when sleep had carried him below. His pallor made any comparison to then and now impossible. One could not look on a face so drained and make analogous remarks about his sleeping form. His visage was entirely too stark, so little was said and each man's thoughts were his own as they stitched the shroud about him. William paced all the while. His short deliberate steps brought him back to Jack's side many times as the men went about the wrapping of their fallen shipmate. In his black coat he was ever the carrion bird as he swung about the deck in slow strides. Sometimes he stopped before the fallen clergyman. Sometimes he slowed along the rail. Each time he returned to his walking while his eyes seemed far away in some deliberation. Meanwhile, the men made what might have been short work of Jack's preparation a longer task by the use of many volunteers. So many offered their assistance, that no one man made more than seven stitches in the canvas. When it was almost complete, Mister Pew remembered the ship's arms key and brought it to William. "Thank you, Mister Pew." William said, stopping in his paces and looking at the man with a discerning eye. "Perhaps you might keep it." "Cap'n...?" "I know the circumstances are not ideal for the delivery of what might otherwise be a favor worthy of celebration, but circumstances being what they are...I am need of a Master-at-Arms. What say you, sir?"

Mmmm...fruit of the pig.

Let me put my apron away and clear a few tables out of the way.

PAH! You shall not sit when I am about. Shall we?

Aye, lass. I did miss you. I really did.

A shepherd's pie for Mister Lasseter. As for you Miss Cutlass. I'm not certain when I could have missed you. You have posted over 700 times in a month's time. 700 times. I didn't post so much in my first year here at the pub. You'll catch fire.

Middle Watch aboard the Watch Dog - Nearing 4 AM. William stood over the fallen Monsignor and found himself wholly uncertain how to feel. Mostly he was numb, but there were parts of him that were returning to him, warmed by anger. The neat hole in the Monsignor's neck was proof positive that a musket ball had ended his life. He now half laid half sat in a quiet posture that almost bespoke prayer and quiet reflection, though he was gone to other shores. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Mister Pew's return with the prisoner. Muller was a sunburnt from his time in the forecastle and he looked thinner than before. The bruises, given to him by the Watch Dog's crew and Forunier's men, were overlapping and ranged in hue from a yellow green to dark purple. His eyes were hollow and his mouth was now a layer cake of dried skin over dried skin. He looked smaller despite his height, and though he towered over William by a half a foot, he seemed altogether shrunken. Wasted. William looked at him for only a moment before speaking. "That man there risked the condemnation of mutiny to find who it was that took me from this ship." William said, pointing to the shell that was once Diego. "And he was paid for that risk with lead, not gold. His mutiny was born of a passion never to be understood by the likes of you. His death is now the direct result of your treachery." Muller said nothing. He barely blinked. Indeed, Muller seemed almost too broken to care. He showed no emotion. This made William more angry than anything that had taken place since his return. He wanted Muller to cower. He wanted begging. But since Muller showed no real sign of life, he chose to end it there and then. What more was there? "Augustus Muller. You are hereby condemned for mutiny, kidnapping and murder." As William raised the pistol the brief spark that had been Muller lit up in the man's eyes. For one small moment, anyone standing near at hand could see mortality dawn in Muller's face. It gave William enough satisfaction then to smile a little as he pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Muller's neck on the same side where the Monsignor had received his mortal injury. William had meant it to be. The difference in their fall was measured in the distance William stood from Muller. Barely two feet separated the pistol from Muller and the ball nearly decapitated him. His head fell over to one side even before his knees unhinged. He went down in stages, folding up at each joint like the puppet he had always been. "Mister Pew." The Coxswain's Mate came forward at once. William handed over the spent pistol. The Captain had a crimson spray of Muller on his jaw and neck, but made no effort to wipe it off. "Assign some men to the task of clearing these decks, starting with that garbage there." he gestured with a nod toward the body of Muller. "I believe a cemetery fellow is waiting ashore for its disposal." "Aye, Cap'n. There's a grave freshly made for 'im." Mister Pew pointed to several able seamen and ordered them to take Muller over the side and row him to shore. The chosen rowers sprang to the dingy to prepare its departure. When this was accomplished, Muller's body was taken unceremoniously to the rail and dumped overboard. Only after it splashed into the water was any effort made to get it into the dingy. There was even a brief consideration to drag Muller by a rope, but this would have made the task long so they brought it into the dingy and rowed away. William walked to the side of the broken Master-at-Arms. He was near enough to a drinking barrel at the Mainmast to gather up a dipper of water. He used this to wash away the blood from Jack's face. William untied his own kerchief and soaked it again and again in a bucket brought to him by Jerrod Styles. Each time he used it to wash away the blood and each time the blood pooled again in the maw that was once Jack's Adam's apple. Finally, satisfied that no more blood would fill and spill, William wrapped the blood pinked linen around Jack's neck to cover and bind it. In the end it only served to define the pallor of the dead man's face. William stood up. A muscle under William's jaw clenched as he critiqued his own poor mortician's effort. He noted the blood stains on his hands and sleeves and dipped them in the bucket to wring them out a little. All the while Jack smiled. "Bring me this man's hammock." William just managed. "He is in ernest need of it."

William was quiet a long time. His face became quiet as well. His whole demeanor flattened into an unreadable mask. When this was accomplished, he called for Mister Youngblood. "Have you a loaded pistol, sir?" Mister Youngblood hesitated. "No, Cap'n." "Please load for me a pistol." Mister Youngblood exchanged a look with Mister Pew and then began the task of loading a pistol with powder and shot. Everyone else was silent, except those whose emotions or whisperings had the better of them. William stood all the while with his back to the crew, watching the shorelights and the earliest hint of dawn on the sky. When the Master Gunner was through loading the pistol he stood with it awhile, uncertain if he should interrupt the Captain's musings. Indeed, everyone seemed reluctant to speak in his protracted silence. Finally the Captain turned and took the pistol from the Master Gunner. There was a look on the Captain's face that spoke of cold blooded murder and Mister Youngblood was not happy to find it there. The crew became very still, wondering what the Captain might need a pistol for and for whom, and even though William looked at Mister Youngblood for a long while, he seemed not to see him. Then, calling Mister Pew he said, "Fetch the traitor from the Fo'c's'le."

Aye...

William made his way down to the docks, hopeful to raise a boat and rowers to take him to the Watch Dog. He had thought that the cutter or dingy might still be at rest there, but he found niether. Instead, he found a pair of large fellows who were willing to take him over for coin. He also found a man with a disconcerting cart standing hard by the docks. the man had a grave look about him and William thought it might belie the man's profession. Still, he did not find it overly ominous. He even managed a nod in the man's direction and the man returned a short, but none to friendly nod. He placed a comfortable coin in each man's hand and with the rowers paid, they set out. The night air off of the ocean was cool and the sound of surf in the purple, pre-dawn light was again putting William to sleep. When they had crossed almost half the distance to the waiting ship a shot was heard from the Watch Dog. The sound of this musket report focused his attention at once. It was followed by a few scattered cheers and he smiled a little at it. No doubt Mister Youngblood was enjoying an opportunity to either practice or teach. He didn't mind. They could replenish any powder used tonight with that offered from the Don the following day. In fact, William thought it might be the best time to be using the older powder. He heard a second shot. Then a third. He was settling again when something changed altogether. The final shot that carried over the echoing waves was followed by something much more ominous. Silence. Then in an instant on the heels of this silence came a mixture of alarm. It carried, and they were now just close enough to see a flurry of movement in the lantern light of the gundeck. 'The musket has blown up in his face.' William thought with sudden dread. He stood a little in the boat, which made the rowers falter a bit in their effort. Then he sat at once and as a man who has ordered men many times, he called out, "Pull! Pull away!" The two men redoubled their efforts and the small boat made good speed across the water. When they were but two thirds of the way over, Ciaran called out from overhead in the unseen dark of the rigging, "Boat, ahoy, Mister Youngblood! Boat off the Starboard Beam!" A man, Maybe Pew, Maybe Youngblood, appeared at the rail. A signal flashed from a lantern and William called out. "It is I, Captain Hollande!" Men put a ladder over the side at once, and William was on it before the boat was fully rested against The Watch Dog. He thanked the native gentlemen for their speed dropping a coin into the waiting hands of the larger boatman as he departed their small craft. He was up and over the side before they could turn the craft around and begin their journey back again. The moment his feet rested on the deck, William froze and his hands dropping a little at his side. He was greeted with the most unexpected surprises imaginable. Here, in the middle of the gundeck, lay the Master-at-arms. He was sprawled out and half cradled in the arms of three or four startled men. A pool of blood spread out in an angry stain and William would have slipped in it if not for his sudden halting shock. He had stepped right off the rail into the spreading line of blood. "What in God's name...?" "Cap'n...", Mister Youngblood and Mister Pew said together. "What the devil happened!" William bellowed. He was so thunderstruck that all he could manage was angry alarm. "Sir...the musket..." Mister Youngblood began and Mister Pew finished with, "He's dead, Sir." William understood almost at once. He had seen this scene before. It had played out on the Kingfisher years before. It also played out now on the face of the Master gunner. Before Mister Youngblood or Mister Pew could say any more, William began to nod. His anger, a trumpet just moments before, now became a whisper as the wave of anger receded. His hand was at his brow. He was at a loss and it took him a moment to collect himself. "Very well, Mister Youngblood." he said with a forrowing brow. "I believe I understand." But William did not understand. He did not understand one bit. He had thought that Mister St. Anthony was waiting behind him on shore, still immersed in drink and song. He had not seen him leave the party, but here the man lay. His blood already darkening. His eyes were wide in a way that was not uncommon for the man when he smiled. And smile he did. Even in death he had a grin of sorts. And the smile that had been often welcome and pleasant before was made unpleasant now in this cold remainder that was once the Master-at-arms. He could not make sense immediately that Mister St. Anthony was her before him and slaughtered in an accident. It was dizzying. William wondered if his carriage had not gone the long way round the island. He suddenly felt as though he had been absent for days. Still, Mister St, Anthony grinned as if to say, "The joke is on you, Captain." It was a riddle of carnage. William found that he couldn't look away at first, and then he had to. "Mister Youngblood, please..." He didn't finish. He couldn't finish. He was in the act of turning away from the sight of the fallen Master-at-arms, when his eyes fell on a wrapped body, resting amidships near the Starboard cannons. His eyes went a little wide and his anger and surprise came back again like a wave. He looked about with a rising alarm. "What man is that?!"

The Vengeful Hangnail? If I sailed on a ship with that name, no one would take me seriously. Of course, if I did sail on a ship with that name I'd kill anyone who laughed at it. Arrr.

You both will be in dire need of refreshment and fare when you are done dancing. I'll get started on the feast now.

Bloody Lying Lurking Backstabbing Valiant Reckless Jolly Mighty scrawny robust Horrible Ugly Dingy Loathesome Spry Bitter Old Crusty Looney diabolical Blasphemous Spectral tempestuos Vile Hairy Bleak Carnivorous

Ballast Barge Bale Block and Tackle Bulwark Chain plate Clewline Dog Vane Dog Watch Goose-wings Gunnel Halyard Handspike Hawse-hole Jeer-block Knippers Lead line Leechline Lee-gage Loggerhead Monkey-jacket Neap-tide Nun-buoy Oakum Pudding Quoil Round-house Rullock Sinnett Slack-water Spoon drift Squall Sternfast Tarpaulin Tide-gate Weather-bit Yardarm

Boarding Pike Bung Hole Cask Flask Matchlock Flintlock Doglock Duffle Jib Boom Crow's Nest Fo'c's'le Aloft Anchorage Bight Bulkhead Bouy Catamaran Cleat Dingy Dockyard Fathom Forepeak Gangway Gunwhale Hatch Helm Hull Jacob's Ladder Jetty Latitude Longitude Log book Marlinspike Midships Moorings Rudder Scuppers Springline Stem Stern tide Tiller Twartships Transom Windward

One eyebrow went up at the smile and William turned on his heel and departed before he said anything else. He was tempted just then to say too much. He found Mister Badger in the company of several party guests and enjoying himself to the fullest. William, against his own advice, asked him to remain if he liked and chose to take a solitary carriage back to the Watch Dog. He made Mister Badger promise to tell the Quartermaster only after he had gone. Once William was on the street and a carriage was fetched for his transport, he made his way home again. The ride was quiet, apart from the carriage and horses. A wind had come up and the insects of the island were lulled into a silence. The night was clear and cooler than the hot day had been. Three times he was almost lulled to sleep himself. The motion of the carriage was like a small boat and he had always found it easy to sleep while moving. He was not too surprised then when the coachman woke him and informed him of their arrival at the docks.