William Brand

Delicious fare. A very happy Thanksgiving to all.

The Misfiteers. The Jolly Roger-Dodgers. The Faire Weather Fiends. The Beachcombers. The Festivalians. The Able Seamen The Barnacle Brute Mob The Longshoremen. Soooo many choices.

Please, do. I may not be around for much cooking.

Four of those mate! Aye, aye! Get this man four sharks and be quick about it!

Today's special is shark...

William was present during the executions and beatings handed down to those few who fell out of the reaches of mercy. He stood and watched the lash fall many times, but while he nodded with some satisfaction at the sentences both final and temorary, he was many times distracted by thoughts that carried his attention elsewhere. "Where are you?" he thought again and again. And even as he asked himself this question, he wasn't entriely sure of whom or what he was asking the question for. He had lost so many friends, possessions and ships in his time. He had departed the company of countries and countrymen too many times to count. Still the lash fell and still his mind drifted.

I see that many offers have been made to pick up fellow travellers in route to PIP. I would love to get a ride from someone that could pick us up at the airport in Key West on November 30th at 5:30 PM. If anyone could pick up three pirates and their gear, please let me know. Otherwise I'll plan on a cab for now.

I'll take some of that fine shrimp and keep it coming. mmmm.

"I couldn't say where the Watch Dog has gone, or even if it has gone. It might be anywhere at this moment, and like my command before, it might remain so." William paused to sample the remaining fare on the table before continuing. "Speculation on the subject might run into the late hours of tomorrow, though I suspect if I were to find her anywhere, it would be somewhere near or about La Margarita. Mister Lasseter might still be anchored there shelling the beachhead. Mister Youngblood may yet be having his way with the dockshops. I might return to find the whole place leveled to the Earth."

There was a silence that passed between all present. Fournier had placed control of the interchange in William's hands with a nod, but so far, William had said nothing. He just stood passively regarding Muller in a disregarding way that was more unsettling than anger. Muller was growing increasingly agitated under that quiet regard. Still, it went on. It was an infectious silence that spread to all, and when all that could be heard was the ship itself, and just before Fournier seemed about to speak, William began his assault on Muller. "How now, Mister Muller? I trust you are well?" William's words were barely above a whisper. Muller didn't seem to know what to do with this. "Here you stand, a dog proxy for another dog. How long have you padded down the trail of treachery with Van Buren?" William asked slowly, almost conversationally. " How long did she whisper her tales of infamy and revenge in your ear? Was it a year? Was it two? Did she buy you off with promises or something more tangible and temporary?" Muller's lip curled. Just that. It was enough for Lamaire to narrow his eyes and Muller, noticing this ever so subtle threat on Lamaire's part, uncurled his lip. William walked forward then. He crossed the distance between them until he was so close that Muller almost stepped back. He was in the man's face and now seemed to study Muller like he was a specimen under his controlling microscope. "You poor fool. If you believed but one word she spoke of me you would not have dared to cross me in my place. If you had believed that I was capable of even a portion of those atrocities attributed to me, you should not have crossed the world to find me. Or was it something other than revenge that hooked you? Was it some solitary word that bought you like a Judas? Was it a promise of gold? Did she whisper silver duckets in the dark? Did she spread wide her legs as she spread wide your feeble imagination with a glory of words?" The effect these words had on Muller were strange. One might have thought he would grow angry, but he straightened, as if justified by William's accusations and revelations. He looked as though he meant to play the gallant hero, standing tall under a barrage of accusations. "You made your bed with her. Now you will lie in it, as you lied with her while she lied. You saw fit to play the proxy for her revenge. Now you will play the proxy for my revenge of her. The lives she took of those innocent and good men who fell aboard the Danzig. The many attacks upon my crew. And greater still, for that crime that goes beyond lives taken and lives abused. You will suffer for the lies she spoke through smiles when she came into the fold of my ship and supped among my friends." William's lip was curling now. His face was heating and showing signs of boiling. "I went into dangers for your benefit. I took on errands whereby you might profit as a member of my crew. You ate my bread. You drank my wine. And all the while you laughed with her in the secret meeting places of the Watch Dog's holds while you conspired to sell me into death!" William's voice had slowly ascended to a volume that thundered in Muller's face. Then he stopped and a long silence followed. Muller, for the first time since coming on deck, seemed genuinely frightened. That fear he had shown before paled by comparison. He began to speak. It was a halting and fumbled attempt that William cut short with a backhanded slap that was as sharp and short as a rifle report. "You damnable dog. You cur. You unrepentant mongrel. You will now know what I am capable of first hand ere you go to Hell." William walked away, and this, more than anything before, made Muller recoil. He wrapped his arms about him as alone in some cold that William had left with his curses as he went. William stopped beside Fournier with his back to Muller, saying nothing more. He didn't have to. Muller was returned to the company of the other dogs.

William was not put off by the news that the bilge was drained and cleaned. Such efficiency was expected from one like Fournier, a most accomplished man of the sea. He was simply glad to be well and to have an enemy under the care of an agreeable host. Waking again to the knowledge that he could come and go while his enemies were under the strict and watchful eye of Fournier's men gave him a satisfaction he hadn't known in weeks. He was also glad to see Lamaire was unharmed, having lost a Captain to a shooter under similar circumstances. He listened to all their exchanges and when they were through he asked for a chance to visit with Muller before deciding on any other course.

Perhaps we should organize a group of able seaman to help clean up a little during a morning or afternoon at the festival. I'd help.

A pint of cider for Miss Smith... A cup of coffee for Mister Pew... and the morning special is... ...blueberry almond crepes.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand. Miss Smith and Armand rocked the Watch Dog.

That works fer me, Captain. I trust ye didn't have me killed off whilst I was away...ye know, fall from the crow's nest and break me neck or something. Okay...here are highlights. I was kidnapped off of the Watch Dog. Diego left with the Yoruban slave Ajaya to find me. There was a riot in the port of La Margarita. Fires. Killing. The Monsignor learned that a ship had taken me from La Margarita. The report could not be confirmed or denied. Mister Lasseter has been considering all of his options. Meanwhile, the French rescued me by accident while taking a prize ship that happened to be the ship of my captivity. There has been a few arguements, a few fights, a few disappearances and one rescue. There. All caught up.

I could make it easy for you and fill you in on the specific details.

There you go, Mister Pew.

So close, and yet so far away. The plane tickets are burning a hole in my pocket.

I don't know what it is, but today's special is this...

William noted the name of Augustus Muller and smiled enough to split his lip a little yet again. He didn't mind the pain then. "If it isn't too much trouble, I would enjoy watching several of your men beat him soundly, tie him roughly and toss him into the bilge until I may devise something worse for him." William sampled a grape, then added, "Preferably the same bilge in which I was so recently entombed. The spot has...adequately fermented."

William smiled and said nothing for awhile. Then he began. "I was in the ward room of the Watch Dog reviewing those charts that pertain to the region, when Mister Augustus Muller requested an audience. He came into the room at my bidding while I crossed to the back of the table. In the short time it took to turn and face him again, he already had a pistol on me." William sipped a little, careful not to reopen his damaged lip. "I understood more in that moment than I would have thought possible. I realized then that Mister Muller had been in league with the deceased Van Buren since the begining. This was soon confirmed by Muller, who stated that they had come aboard the Watch Dog for the purpose of revenging Van Buren's father, an accidental victim of the Hamer Hoen. I let him speak his peace uninterrupted in an effort to learn what I could. Once I was satisfied that he had said all that he wished to of his rehearsed curses, I told him what he could do with his self satisfied remarks and he grew angry." Fournier stepped into the story with a question. "Who is Van Buren and what happened to the father?" William paused. "In truth, I don't know. Van Buren came aboard the ship as a woman in the guise of a man. I never learned much of her, since Muller was not a man of details and Van Buren's treachery was discovered only after she was dead. As for her father, I also...could not say. He might have died in the initial capture of the Hamer Hoen, but very few did. Some were left in the West Indies, while the rest came in two parts aboard the Hamer Hoen and the Kingfisher. He may have died with Wells and Avery when the British took the Kingfisher. If he was among those we put ashore then I cannot say what became of him. Van Buren may have come seeking revenge for a father not yet in need of avenging. I cannot be sure that he is dead. If I ever see the Hamer Hoen again I shall look for his name among the logs, but it is just as likely that I shall see him again before my ship."

This question is open to a significant and broad interpretation. People, like art, are subjective when it comes to looks. Some people find Elvis very attractive. Some do not. Some women find Mick Jagger attractive, but I think many of us would agree, that David Bowie is better looking. We are all art. Still, with that said, there are a few fine looking ladies and handsome gentleman aboard.

William arrived with the assistance of a young subordinate. He had regained the use of his legs after their long bloodless-bound slumber in the bilge, but his back was a mess of aches and knots. Pulled and bruised muscles complained all the way to the table, but William was carried on by the compass in his stomach that screamed "Food Ahead!" He smiled warmly at Fournier. "A fine and pleasant morning, Capitaine. My many thanks for clean and private accommodations. I had thought to dine with the rats all the way across the Atlantic. And perhaps...be dined upon." The young man helped him carefully into the sturdy and elegant chair. William's attention was already drawn to the finery of the table and the expectation of far better food than he had known for a time.

Preparing the last of my kit for Pirates in Paradise.

William... ...from the German for "guardian" or "protector".