William Brand

Aye. You do indeed.

Eating Rum? Now that be a stiff drynk! I'll be 'avin' two...an'a bit o' floor ta be fallin' on... Yes, yes, yes...I did say eating, when I should have said consuming. Still...

We're having about twenty friends over to watch Master and Commander on a projection t.v. while eating rum an hard tack.

William said nothing, and judging by the Doctor's posture and silence, he judged that Mister Lazarus Gage needed her attention, so he did not divert it with questions. Instead, he gave Miss Wardell and Ajayi Abiodun a nod each and returned to the quarterdeck. There he found the ship as it had been and noted that already they were returning to that course that would bring them to Montserrat, the cutter crew gliding along in their shadow.

My favorite... "Lass, what would it take to open your pearly gates?" "Tact."

One eyebrow went up. He smiled, bemused. "A Fletcher's Daughter." He thought aloud. "I should think we could find place for a Fletcher's Daughter. However, there are more issues than your place aboard this ship, but they shall have to wait until the morrow. Rest first, and I'll think on the matter." William turned to the man under Tempest's studious care. "Who is this man, Miss Wardell? Do you know his background?"

"Ah, I see." William said sympathetically. This made much more sense to William than the idea of simple passengers. It also went a long way to improving his opinions of those survivors. He was none to fond of blackbirders. The death toll among slave ships was well known to anyone in the Americas who dared to open their eyes. "Well...Miss...?" "Wardell. Meg...Wardell." "Miss Wardell, as far as I am concerned, you are our guest. We will soon arrive in the waters surrounding Montserrat. We will of course have to transfer you to the ship we are towing, as I will not be taking the Watch Dog into port here., but for now, eat and sleep. Our Doctor is well versed in all things of the body." William realized how insinuating that sounded only after it had escaped his lips, but as Miss Wardell seemed not to notice, he didn't correct his definition of her talents.

William nodded as she spoke. What she said went a long way to explaining the wreckage. "Were there any other survivors? What is your affiliation with the Warrington Hart?"

Today's special is French Dip. Made with real French.

Pleased with Mister Pew's acceptance of the new postotion, William went below to speak with those who had come aboard. The surgery always seemed smaller when any group larger than three occupied it, but Ajayi Abiodun positively scraped the overhead beams. He hat to sit in order to fit without hunching and he looked all the darker for the lower light of the interior. The Doctor was already at work over her patients, the calm and studious expression taking over all her features. "I am William Brand, Captain of the Watch Dog." he said to the woman, who seemed far more conscious of her surroundings than the other. "What ship is it that you were on and how did it come to this end?"

William walked with Mister Pew to the Quarterdeck. He stood awhile near the starboard rail looking out at the cutter. "You see Mister Warren, there? He is as fine a boatman as I have seen, and when occasion permits or demands, and it often does, I need him in the cutter. This presents me with a dilemma. In Mister Warren's abscence, I have no experienced helmsman at the wheel." William paused and gave Mister Pew a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. "I should like to promote you to Coxswain's Mate, Mister Pew. What say you?"

William waited in front of Ajayi Abiodun while water was fetched for him. William took the dipper and offered it to him. Ajayi Abiodun drank but a little and offered it again to William, who drank it in turn. They stood awhile in silence, but after a time, William gestured towards the surgery and Ajayi Abiodun went willingly enough. Mister Pew would have followed, but William called him back. "Mister Pew. A word if you please."

William was Not too surprised at the appearance of Ajayi Abiodun, though he found the length of chain at once distracting. The man was an imposing figure, while the other two looked well past weariness. He wasted no time in conversation. "Take these people below, I will speak with them presently." Many assisting hands helped the weary to the confines of the surgery, but the large man seemed immovable. He stood, and no man laid a hand to him as they gestured for him to follow. Still, he remained as if rooted to the spot on the deck. William approached the man, facing him directly, though he was forced to stand at arms length to see up into the man's face. "Can you speak English?" William asked, and was not too surprised that the man didn't know English or chose not to answer. "Mister Pew...?" Mister Pew plied Ajayi Abiodun with many questions in Swahili, but the man did not reply, though he fixed Mister Pew with a very intense gaze, that was neither friendly nor angry. "Sorry, Sir." Mister Pew said with a shrug. "If 'e knows more than 'ello, 'e ain't saying so." William nodded. Ajayi Abiodun turned again to William and placed his hand gently to his own bare chest. In a tone clear and emotionless, he said. "Ajayi Abiodun." William did likewise, pressing his own hand to himself in like manner and stating his name 'William Brand', though a moment later on a whim he thought to add something else. "Ahmar..." Ajayi Abiodun looked at him for a long time, and while William couldn't read his expression, he was fairly certain the man had understood. Ajayi Abiodun looked him up and down and then at Mister Pew. Then, though it made a few flinch, Ajayi Abiodun reached out suddenly with the back of his hand and brushed the knuckles down over William's small beard. He did this in one quick motion, repeating the word in tone that bespoke a question or confirmation. "Ahmar." William nodded. "Bring this man some water and fetch Mister Hawks. We'll have this chain off."

Ajayi Abiodun was alone in his language and position among so many Europeans. He was quiet, but not in any awkward or shy way. No, he sat straight and proud, and were it not for the chain and the piece of hull it was still bound to, one might have imagined him a leader or captain of men. Nigel attempted conversation with him, but having no real tongue for his own language, he was an utter failure at conversing with someone like Ajayi Abiodun, who might know many languages for all he knew. Ajayi Abiodun looked at him with dark, serious eyes, but made no more effort to talk with the scrawny Englishman. Nigel noted that the chunk of timber still connected to the length of chain was considerable. It must have weighed upwards of fifty pounds, minus the weight of the chain, yet the great Nigerian carried it into the boat without any outward sign of effort. "Lads, I believe he could smash take us all." Mister Franklin made a scoffing sound. Lucky Tuck smiled at Ajayi Abiodun. Augustus just watched the rescued woman. At the request for volunteers, Lucky Tuck raised his hand and so did Nigel.

Aye. I'd kill for good sushi.

When they were close enough to judge the piece of wreckage holding the castaways, they were surprised to see that it was long and wide enough to serve as a floating dock. The ship that it had belonged to must have come apart in many places to have created such a raft. The entire cutter crew might have almost gone aboard such a piece, but Mister Lasseter still circled it once to gage which side was least likely to scrape or puncture the cutter. Mister Warren gathered and altered sail to stall the cutter as she approached. The woman seemed almost as alert as the great chained man, but the third survivor looked listless, almost spent from days of mindless starvation. As they circled wide, the Monsignor called out, "Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"Are they prisoners?" Mister Franklin asked, looking past the Quartermaster at the large man who was swinging the chain over his head. "Mind yer guns, lads. Steady as she goes" Mister Lasseter returned, not taking his eyes off the wreckage they were now sailing into. Any one of these splintered pieces or rolling casks might be dashed against their hull and leave them all castaways to be rescued. He turned the tiller more than once, and the cutter crew was forced to settle in their seats further for purchase as they glided along.

Mister Lasseter and Mister Warren were making short work of that distance between the Watch Dog and the waiting survivors. Still, it was some time before they reached the waiting castaways. Yet even at this distance, they noticed several things right away. The first thing they noticed was the giant of a man standing upright on what could only be a significant section of a weather deck. The man was well over six feet tall, and to say he was dark would have seriously understated him. He looked like a man carved of pure ebony and naked to the waist as he was, made him seem darker still. One solitary shackle swung from his right wrist and was bound at the other hand by a great band of iron set into a fragment of wood that he was swinging all the while in order to maintain their attention. "Slaves." Mister Lasseter whispered just loudly enough for Mister Warren to hear. But the others weren't slaves, or at least, they probably weren't. One was a man who was burnt face and hands from the sun and the other was a woman. All of them looked care worn and half starved, though the man standing seemed to have faired the exposure with the least hurt.

William collapsed his spyglass, since Ciaran was aloft, he had little need of it. "Take Mister Warren and the Monsignor. The rest I leave to you. You may take arms and go with the cutter if you like, Mister Lasseter."

If we don't have it, we make it from scratch or steal it.

"No. Mister St. Anthony. Not yet." William was still looking through his glass and watching the imperceptible man on the water. "When we come within a reasonable distance to this castaway, we will lower the cutter and intercept him. I want the cutter men armed and prepared to give aid, but we cannot afford to retard the speed of the Watch Dog while we have a good wind on her, so the cutter will have little time to do what it may to bring this man safely to..." "TWO MEN ON THE WATER, CAP'N!" Ciaran cried down, interrupting their plans with this important correction. "ARE YOU CERTAIN, MISTER CIARAN!?" There was a long pause this time, while Ciaran scrutinized the small raft or wreckage for survivors. He was a long time in answering. "I CAN BE CERTAIN OF TWO! THERE MAY BE ATHIRD, BUT I'D NOT SWEAR BY IT!" William nodded. "Prepare arms and the cutter, gentleman. We'll lower away, when we near them."

"Ah, Mister Youngblood. For safety's sake I should like to have you standing by with a third of your gunnery crew at the ready. We may be bringin strangers aboard very soon."

"Monsignor, would you please go and fetch us up a water cask and some food to be taken in the cutter. And see what spare blankets can be found to serve those who may be discovered in the water. Once you have these, please bring them here and I shall discuss what orders are to be acted out in this regard."

"See to your needs, Sir. And when you are refreshed, come again to the quarterdeck. We have time enough." William watched him go and waited at the rail, taking note that all other things aboard were being seen to.