William Brand

Nothing is above my station. I'm a pyrate.

Tagliatelle Pasta with Asparagus and Gorgonzola Sauce

Niiiiiiice.

This is an interesting 1650 wheellock with a six shot capacity.

I want to point out that my birthday is coming up...

Middle Watch - Four bells... The Captain sat at the ward room table cleaning and sharpening his mortuary sword and cutlass. They lay on the table along with a sailor's knife and wicked, curved blade of unidentifiable origin. The Captain was just finishing the edge on the cutlass when an unexpected guest entered the room. William looked up, expecting to see Miss Smith, but finding Ajayi Abiodun. To say the man filled the door frame understated his size. He spilled over. He scraped the ceiling. "Ajayi..." William said with surprise and a nod. "Ahmar." Ajayi returned, but with a tone that was unsure. William nodded again. William watched him as his eyes moved about the room once and then back to him. The man's face changed very little, if at all. He had a stony bearing. William noted that his eyes fell on the table and the weapons there more than once. Ajayi came forward and picked up the mortuary sword. He did this in a casual way and the sword looked suddenly smaller in the large man's hands. The man held it out sideways and suddenly the man was a alive with words. His voice was strong and his tone might have been angry, but William didn't think so. William just listened quietly during the animated barrage of words. When Ajayi was finished, he stood quietly. William waited for a moment. Then he stood. "I am William Brand, Captain of the Watch Dog. I have seen fire, battle and storms. I have escaped imprisonment, cheated death, and outlived my enemies. I am no man's dog. They call me Red Wake, for in my days I have left a bloody stain in my path. I am Ahmar Mahdi. I have been an executioner, a reaper and a death sentence to those betrayers foolish enough to cross me in my journey. I have walked the halls of royalty and poverty. I am the finished work of no one's effort but my own." William fell silent. Ajayi nodded. It was true that neither of them had understood the words of the other, but William had learned that there was often more to be understood in bearing than words. He was fairly certain that Ajayi had said similar things of himself. Ajayi grinned then. It was a good smile, filled with brilliant and winning teeth. His eyes looked wild and happy at the same time. William realized he was smiling back. He grabbed up a bottle and drawing the cork out with his teeth, he drank and passed the bottle to Ajayi. William came around the table and was about to say more, when a polite, but insistent knock came at the door. "Are you alright, Captain?" Miss Smith asked through a door that was not quite closed. "Come in Miss Smith." She came in and it was not surprising to see her face grow wary at the large armed man standing so near the Captain. "Miss Smith, would you be so kind as to fetch us some food from the galley? And find me Mister St. Anthony." She nodded. William noted again the catlike look that crossed into her eyes. He had seen it once before when she branded the pistols at Captain Scully. It betrayed the darker, dangerous side of her. He thought it suited her well. "Aye, Aye, Captain."

William walked the companionway, the gundeck and the lower holds. He noted the care with which the crew stored their things. No hammocks or possibles left about. "Mister Lasseter runs a tight ship." He made his way back to the gundeck, taking time to inspect each gun. Every gun was clean, bound and ready for service. All were in tip top shape and he gave a smile and a nod to the Master Gunner. He noted that the cutter was undergoing small repairs and there he learned that the Quartermaster had been injured in his return to the ship. "This explains his long absence from the quarterdeck." William went below to find the Quartermaster.

In a word. Yar. Of course I would. I'd wear the skin of my enemies and the top knots. Wait. What was the question?

William nodded. He didn't say anything. He just nodded. "I can't believe that you came aboard with any goods or arms, but nevertheless, please report to Mister St. Anthony and make him aware that you are joining the crew. Declare to him any arms or lack thereof so that he can make a note of it for the future. Once you have done this, report to Mister Lasseter when he is on duty next. He should like to know what skills you have and where you are best suited to do what duty you may aboard this ship." William paused and looked long and hard at Miss Wardell. He studied her until he was quite certain he had made her uncomfortable in the process. Still he studied her, saying nothing. He continued in this fashion well past the point that most people could have stood such a silence, then he dismissed her. "Welcome aboard the Watch Dog, Miss Wardell. That is all."

Was it available as material that could have been used for shirts? Yes. Would it have been widely used for shirts in the western world? No. There are several reasons why. 1 - Wool is an insulator, even when wet. You can get soaked through in wool and still stay warm. This makes it more practical at sea. 2 - Cotton, flax and linens are more available in the area of the colonies and the carribean. They are cheaper and therefore easier to repair and maintain. 3 - Silk was often an import, whereas all other local materials could be replaced with ease. All other reasons are covered already by Gentleman of Fortune. Still, there are records of several pirates who wore exotic clothing to be more ostentatious. You could certainly justify being more flamboyant. It would be more accurate to have a silk vest than a shirt, but in the end, it is up to you. Still, I think that Foxe should have the last word on this.

"I have given your request to remain on the Watch Dog some thought. I have no reason to deny such a request, as the Warrington Hart and its purposes are at the bottom of the sea. In a year's time, it will be rumored in England that none of the Warrington's crew survived. You are reborn... ...and in the companionship of Lazarus no less." William went to one of several sea trunks and rifled through it for papers. He drew out a folded sheet of paper and returning to the table, he spread it out, revealing his features and the money offered for them. He let her peruse the document while he continued. "Now you must decide what you would like to do in light of this alteration in your understanding. If I am found and captured alive, I will be hanged. If you and this good crew are found with me, you will all be hanged." William stood behind the table. His expression was one of quiet cordiality as he stood there, hands behind his back. Apart from the absence of his coat and hat, the likeness seemed to be of him. The artist who had recreated him for the wanted poster was biased in his subject matter, so that William Brand was drawn with a sneer and a countenance of anger, but the height and bearing of the man wasn't all too different. "You may have more time to think on this matter if you wish."

"Thank you, Doctor. I will use all my good judgement then on this matter." The Captain made his way over to where Rummy and Meg were speaking. He waited until a polite silence came into their conversation before inviting Miss Wardell to speak with him in the ward room.

"And are the others still well? Miss Wardell and Ajayi, are they..." he began, but noticing Miss Wardell in company with the ship's carpenter, he began a new tack. "Do you think they are fit for any active work aboard? Miss Wardell expressed a somewhat hasty request to remain with us. I should rather prefer working guests to passengers, but I will wait on your word...if you think waiting is in order."

Upon seeing the Ships's Surgeon, William excused himself from Mister Youngblood and made his way to the Doctor and Armand. "How is it with you Doctor?" He nodded towards Armand. "Armand. How are our guests doing? I trust the wounded man is better than he was."

"Needed...? I suppose so, he being a man like me but not as me." William paused long enough to seem indifferent about Mister Scully. "I'm sorry, Monsignor. I had quite forgotten about our guest. The last that I heard of him was from Mister Lasseter. Who I believe was seeing to Scully's needs. Please see if it is so and take him what food he needs. I shall speak with him presently." William turned back to Mister Youngblood, but was some time in his thoughts before speaking again. "Where was I...? Oh yes. To the 'little gentleman in black velvet'* and to spare canvas, paint and rum rations!" * footnote - In February 1702 William the III (William of Orange) was riding at Hampton Court when his horse stumbled on a mole hill, throwing him and breaking his collar bone. After it had been set, he insisted on returning to Kensington Palace by coach, which aggravated his condition. He became feverish some days later and was put to bed but died of pleuro-pneumonia a few days later on 8 March 1702. The Jabobites toasted the "little gentleman in black velvet" (the mole) who had brought about the death of their enemy.

"We'll rent us two small rooms near the shore and paint Spanish ships at port for a week and drink up the profits of the Danzig goods." William raised the dipper. "To King William the III. May he rot in Hell."

"The compensation of the military is such, that when a man of no particular rank dies in the service of his country, defending house and home, it is often the general, who was never there who reaps the rewards of rank and society. It is a sad truth, and has and ever will be so. Take me for example. In 1696 I had the opportunity to serve king and country in capturing the Hamer Hoen, a dutch ship used in the trade and defense of the West Indies. We captured her with almost no losses and thought ourselves the better men for it. Too late we learned that an accident of translation had led us to believe that we were at war with the Dutch, when in fact, we were at war with the French and in alliance with the Dutch. Our act of enthusiastic patriotism was at once denounced as a barbaristic pyracy and over two hundred men couldn't go home again."

"Aye." William smiled and looked at Mister Youngblood for a long moment. "You know of course, if you have another suggestion or a differing opinion on these matters that I bring to you, you may, with all freedom, speak your mind. I shouldn't like any good suggestion to go unspoken simply for want of obeying my word as Captain. The truth of the matter is, Mister Youngblood, I know nothing of you beyond our small interchange as officers of this ship. For instance, I have no idea where you hail from. Apart from your deft and able skill at cannon, I don't know anything of your...well, sir...your canon. Your beliefs. Your aspirations. Your politics. For all I know, you could be cheesmaker's apprentice with uncommonly good aim. And, after what become of Mister...or rather...MISS Van Buren, I should like very much to know each crew member a little better."

"I've promised all of the crew a rest in port, but prudence suggests that I do this in rotation. I should like a very small number of gunners to remain with the Watch Dog at all times. Enough to handle the swivels, I should think. It isn't that I feel that there should be any treachery, but..." and William paused smiling. "...but then of course the word treachery itself suggests an attack from unexpected quarters." William grabbed up a dipper from a nearby bucket to drink and was a long time quiet before continuing. "Also, I should think that there might be any number of unexpected possibilities ashore, what with the crew being who they are. We might have to cancel our leave ashore at any time due to a...misunderstanding."

William finished his morning meal and ventured onto the quarterdeck, there to relieve Mister Badger. Finding Mister Youngblood at the rail, he joined him there to speak on matters of the ship. "Good day to you, Mister Youngblood. I wonder If I might speak to you on matters pertaining to La Margarita and our stay there?"

William had awoken early, but he had gone about most of the morning quietly. He checked and verified his destination on various charts in order to average his findings against their discrepancies. Once he was satisfied on that point, he disassembled his pistols and cleaned each one a part at a time. The sea had its way of taking its toll on finely crafted parts. The salt got into everything from a man's soul to a spring pin. Part way through this maintenance, Miss Smith had arrived with food fresh from the galley. He smiled when he noted the absence of a tea pot. Though he had never said anything regarding tea, he was sure she had noted by now that he had no great care for tea in any form. She had an uncanny knack for noting the likes and dislikes of others. Already he had noticed the way she had begun serving people differently and according to their respective tastes. He made a place for the tray on the table. "Miss Smith, please ask Mister St. Anthony and Mister Youngblood to join me at breakfast, unless either of them asleep. No need to wake them if they are. This visit is not pressing."

Yes, because what I needed after missing the only faire in the area was a gentle reminder that I should support the local faire. (heavy sigh) Did I say the local faire was lacking...?

That is a damn fine picture.

When the Doctor was gone, William gathered those charts that were presently of no importance and put them away. When Miss Smith came to collect the trays he followed her to the galley and just catching the Monisgnor departing the place he showered him with praise. "Having often cooked for others, I know the time and labor of the galley all too well. But let me say this, my good Monsignor...nay...my good man, you have missed your vocation. You should have been a king of some courtly kitchen. That was as fine a meal as I've had aboard. And with the departure of our dear Miss Johnson, I thought I should find our meals less inviting." William smiled to Miss Constance and continued with his mock-chiding and far from serious tone. "The pair of you are alchemists and I'll wager there's a contract between you both and a devious power. See that you keep the galley shut up tight. I've already seen the effects your work had on those up and downwind." Miss Smith was nodding with a grin. "What think you, Miss Smith?" She smiled and seemed to search for words. "It is fine food. It is worth a cut in wages for such good food." "Aye. Well said." William reached into the galley and fetched himself another biscuit. "This is tax for allowing such dangerous cooks passage aboard my ship. You'll be all day sending up Siren songs from these pots if you are both not careful." He shook a reproving finger as he ate the morsel, moving away down the companionway and calling back as he did so. "I am moved to blasphemies in regards to this biscuit."

"No, good Doctor." William said with a smile and a shrug. "Just remain and dine with me for awhile...and tell me...why do I have to order my own to eat with me when they will willingly dress in all manner of finery to dine with others? He said this with a hint of laughter in his tone. He returns to his seat shaking his head. He added to her glass and poured himself a second drink. "We revel to much in the past of late. To the future...may it be lined with fortune and good fortune."