William Brand

Pleasantly or unpleasantly? Please say a little of both.

William has been up a quarter of an hour and making notations on bearing and speed against those outdated charts he has before him. Most of his maps are well made and adequate for the day, but his information on Montserrat is limited. Then cries from above of sightings in the water rouse him to the day and he dresses in his coat and hat. He is met by a runner halfway down the companionway with word of a man sighted off at a distance to starboard. "Very well." he says as he continues outward on to the gun deck. William advances to the quarterdeck and removes his own glass. What he sees at this distance can barely be called a man, but he has learned to trust Ciaran's good eyes. "It is off of our course but a little. We shall divert our course to see what there is to see."

Ciaran is aloft early in the watch, having taken his morning meal, beginning on the gun deck and finishing it high above the Watch Dog's weather decks. The air is crisp but not unpleasant. Mister Lasseter sounds the seventh bell of the morning watch and not three minutes later something catches Ciaran's eye off the starboard beam. He puts the spyglass to his eye, and even then the object is small. "Not a boat..." he says aloud to himself. "...but..." Then he sees it, sign of life. There is a figure that is almost imperceptible at this distance, small, but waving or moving about on...what...wreckage or a raft? "MAN OFF THE STARBOARD QUARTER!" Ciaran notes the sudden change in the figures below. "BOAT OR SWIMMER, MISTER CIARAN!?" Mister Lasseter cries back. "CANNOT SAY, SIR! TOO FAR OUT AS YET!"

Greek beer all around.

Don't put your elbow in the cucumber sauce.

Hoping William doesn't use coreldraw. Whew...I don't I am an illustrator. Genuine brush and canvas, pen and paper, clay and wire man. I do use Some art programs like Photoshop, Freehand and Illustrator.

Cleaning my office and getting ready to draw for the day.

Okay...now I'm hungry.

Greek food! STAT!

Today's special is Greek Potatoes!

William spent the beginning of first watch checking and re-checking the anchor cable that bound them hard fast to the Danzig Trader. He noted the position of the Chasse de Mer, far astern. Fournier had been crisscrossing their wake for several hours now. He was just close enough to serve and just far enough to slip away when his service was done. William returned to the deck, finding Rummy as he went and there she delivered the new addition to his cane. "Tell Mister Hawks..." William paused. "No. I will tell him myself. Thank you." William wound his way among the crew on the deck. Youngblood was at a smoke near the larboard rail speaking with Mister Johnson. William stopped to make conversation and inquires. They were there speaking when Miss Smith passed with a tray of coffee. William took a cup and dismissed himself to find the Carpenter, but after searching the ship, he found him abed and fast asleep, so he kept his praise for the morning. When he returned to the gun deck he stood a long while with Mister Badger, and they talked of England for the better part of an hour.

Me too...

The gun crew, under the direction of Mister Youngblood, hauled the stern chaser, Geri, from its place so the spare anchor cable could be run out through the larboard stern gunport. Mister Warren took the cable end from here, and with the assistance of the cutter crew, he carried the end in the cutter on to the Danzig Trader. Here it was secured using timbers and braces set by Rummy and Mister Hawks. Mister Badger trimmed and changes what sail he thought best to distribute the strain upon the Watch Dog prior to towing. Christine Johnson and Tudor Smith made their way among the crew feeding the crew and giving them drink as the evening turned into night. Mister Youngblood split the watches for the long night, sure to have fresh men on the guns as the night progressed. The Monsignor and Ciaran were aloft calling changes as they saw them. And every other sailor aboard the ship was about his or her duty. "My compliments to the crew, Mister Lasseter. And extra ration of rum for all." William was pleased at the way they all worked in tandem. He ordered the Watch Dog's new course and heading and there was a satisfying lurch as the anchor cable dragging the Danzig pulled taught. At first, they seemed to make no progress at all, but after a few minutes, the speed could be judged by all.

Like a penny ante gigolo.

William exchanged salutes of respect with Fournier and helped Tempest into the waiting cutter. William turned to Fournier as he did this. "I will move the Danzig and Watch Dog within the hour if I can. Should you at any time feel that you can no longer remain with us, then do me the courtesy of a quiet departure with no cannon salute." William said with a smile. "I shouldn't want to announce myself to the English too early." William went down into the boat and Mister Warren ordered them away. The short trip was a quiet one. To be honest, it was difficult to be tossed so much after a meal of that quality, especially topped off with wine as they were, but no one made a complaint with any real disagreement in their voice. Once aboard, the officers who had waited, watching, gathered at the rail. William sent orders immediately for an anchor cable to be sent out the larboard cannon port in the stern and on to the Danzig for towing. Officers moved off to strip the clothes of the morning in exchange for clothes better suited for work and action. William remained on the quarterdeck.

Then it is a question of the materials, and there is no easy way. Most bonded leathers lack the give. Most shoes are constructed ot only stretch and give a little. Once boots are made, altering them is not easy beyond the lacing you wish to avoid. Sorry. No easy answers. You might conside cutting them and adding material.

"Merci beaucoup. I will sing La Marseillaise in your honor ere I come to La Margarita." William said shaking Fournier's hand. It seemed some small relief to all that they both came out of the small enclosure, smiling as they were. William thanked Fournier for the company and hospitality of his table as they all returned into the sunlight. Mister Warren called an attention to the waiting rowers and all prepared to depart.

William excepted the glass with a nod. "Aye. That is why I plan to leave the Merchant near enough to be seen at a distance by the English. This will give the Dutch ample opportunity to do whatever pleases them in regards to the Danzig Trader. They may secure passage or remain with the English and my promises to them will be at an end. Then I can return south in the near company of the Chasse de Mer until I continue on to St. Vincent, or wherever I may make a profit from those goods in my possession." William paused to drink. "Your letter will give me many opportunities in waters that might otherwise be closed to me, and your company, and that of the Chasse de Mer, will confuse the English. What will they think of me, he that rescues the Dutch from certain death and delivers them in the company of the French?" William couldn't help the smile that crossed his face then. It was a story that might re-grow with the telling, as most of them had where he was concerned.

Provided the leather is right, there are ways of stretching them using oil and and careful pressure over time. Your boots, not your thighs.

"Gentleman. Doctor." William followed Fournier into the private chamber. "Room" would have been to big a word for it, but for a ship, it was comfortable. "I should very much like to take you up on your offer for a letter of recommendation in regards to Mister Scully. I can only assume that that is what this is about?" Fournier was already nodding, but before the subject continued, William added an additional request. "I mean to move the Danzig Trader. I am taking her as far as Montserrat by means of a towing cable so that she might be discovered by the English, to whatever end, and as I will be vulnerable during that time, I ask you now if you will come with us in excort until nightfall?"

The short toast was revealing only in its players. William learned no more than the names he had known before and it satisfied his curiousity little. Still, it seemed to come to no more harm than the ruffling of the Master at Arms feathers, and he was glad for it, raising his own glass during the toast and giving Mister St. Anthony his most supporting nod before drinking. The food was well made and rich for the sea. "Some of us will pay for this in our bowels later." he thought. "How are the Dutch to you?" Fournier asked him all at once. "I assume you mean, "How are they towards me?" , not "How are they to me?" Fournier nodded. William smiled. "One cannot always choose one's company or saviors on the sea. Though I suspect that some of them know very little of me and would not have cared if I had murdered their own mothers for the want of water they had aboard. Some of them believe they know who I am, but in that, they are wrong." This was not the dinner conversation of old friends, but William continued. "I regret that whatever they may think of me, I will not be there when news of my good dead reaches England and the Netherlands. I should so like to see their faces in Parliament."

I have to admit it, despite my view that history is better, I love the boots... (William ducks an assault of flying, short, buckled shoes)

Noooooooo! The tall boots flatter your calves.

The furthest fork is for defence. But I'll gladly join in.

"Here's to the lawless minority!" (raises glass)