William Brand

William called for his Steward and sent her to fetch the Master Gunner, Quartermaster, Carpenter, Blacksmith and Bosun. He wanted to see them all at their earliest convenience. While he waited for them to arrive, he scratched a few lines into his log book, careful to note the date and time in which Fournier had delivered the Letter of Marque. He almost penned a note about Mister Sons and Mister Van Buren, but decided to wait.

I think we need some pie... I love pie...

Hours before, William had been both distracted and bemused by his Steward's demands that he take better care of himself. It was a fault of his to avoid meals and sleep when pressed with too many concerns at once, so he had allowed her to wait on him with food and wine. She had stood hard by while he ate every crumb of it. Now, it was several hours later and nothing had come from the search a yet. No sign of either Mister Sons or Mister Van Buren had been reported, and now William though he might be starting the new day with two funerals, instead of just the one. Everything had gone so well, despite accidents and the logistics of seeing over two ships while an armed frigate loomed in the near vicinity. Fires, injury, hunger and storm had all passed, and just as he would have ordered a feast aboard the Watch dog at all their good fortune, this news of missing men and discovered weapons had come. William drew on his coat and hat and went to the quarterdeck to relieve the officers there. He sent Mister Lasseter and the Mister Badger to their places of rest while he waited for word from the search crews aboard the Danzig.

William waited until Fournier and his men had pushed off in the French cutter before gathering all of the deck crew and officers of the watch to the gun deck. He conversed quietly with Mister Lasseter while they gathered. "Lads...Lasses...We have an urgent matter at hand. While we passed through this storm relatively unscathed, it is now apparent that we may have lost Mister Sons." He waited while they exchanged looks amongst each other. "It appears that he was taken overboard by wave or malady to a silent end. He has not been found aboard the Watch Dog or the Danzig, and I cannot see how he would have found his way to the Chasse de Mer. For the sake of prudence, let us search the Watch Dog one last time before we declare him lost. Watches shall be sent aloft and we shall put the barge in the water." William turned to Mister Warren. "Please take the Samson around both ships and put four good men on the Danzig to search it again." William paused to think for a moment. He had to cover the subject of Mister Van Buren, but he didn't want to cast him in a bad light until it could be discovered why he had hidden himself for so long a time. "Everyone not about a specific duty is to go in pairs to search for Mister Sons and Mister Van Buren. If either of them is found, they are to be brought to the ward room."

"I would gladly deliver Mister Scully into the hands of those whom he would find least favorable. He was on my ship for under a quarter of an hour, before my men lined up to beg the favor of shooting him. I almost let them when I learned of his foolishness in the face of so much arrogance. I do believe if I had been in a poorer mood, I would have let them all shoot him once or twice each." William refreshed Fournier's glass without asking, continuing on in his disregard of Scully. "In a world where such men as Scully are made Captain, while patriots are made to dance the hemp jig on air, one must except opportunity where one may. Who is this person who would take our dear and revered Scully away from us and all the world? Let us make haste to that port."

William sat down on the edge of the table. He sipped his drink for a moment, before speaking. "Let us not mince words, Captain. I'm a man of the sea. Politics and policies are reefs and sandbars. This box is just an extra anchor." William tapped the small box containing the marque. "Just because a man has a thing, that does not mean that he will use it. Please, speak plainly."

"And there are many that consider a "Frenchman" no more than a sanctimonious cheese eater and a wine tippler." William added conversationally, "But I put little stock in such one sided opinions." William poured Fournier a drink. He came around the table to place the glass directly in the man's hand. "To his majesty, Louis, King of France." William said with a smile. "May his reign on Earth be a long and pleasant one."

William looked at the box, but he left it untouched. He understood the gravity of its contents, but he nodded toward Fournier to continue. This was interrupted by a knock on the ward room door. "Enter." Mister Lasseter came around the table and explained the discoveries that were following in fast succession. William's face didn't change much, but he excused himself from Captain Fournier's company, stepping into the corridor with Mister Lasseter. Once they were out of the room, William questioned Mister Lasseter at length. "Did Mister Sons go back aboard before we cut away from the Danzig?" "Not with permission from myself or the Bosun." William placed his hands behind his back and his brow furrowed. "Send word over to the Danzig, post haste. If they cannot account for him, then give the word to search the ship stem to stern. Send word aloft and return with word." William watched Mister Lasseter go and stood a moment composing himself before returning to the ward room. "Please continue."

William stood as Fournier entered the room. He was wearing a face that belied nothing but calm. He greeted Fournier with the proper respect and amenities, gesturing to a chair before returning to his own. "What brings you aboard, Captain Fournier?"

It was difficult not to be troubled by the sudden appearance and disappearance of weapons aboard the Watch Dog and Mister Lasseter didn't like it one bit. He had been about to tell the Captain when Fournier arrived by cutter and requested permission to come aboard. Shortly after arriving on the deck, the Quartermaster escorted him directly to the Ward Room, where he went in to speak privately with the Captain.

Stanley London makes a fine brass one with a leather case that could be modified to hang on a belt.

Mister Lasseter was just turning from the galley with a plate of food to begin his busy day when the Coxswain brought him news of a surprising discovery. He nodded at the importance of such a revelation, and with a sigh, he handed over his plate to another crew member. They made there way to the cable tier only to discover that there was nothing there to discover. The Quartermaster gave Mister Warren a questioning look. "I assure you, Quartermaster that..." Mister Lasseter raised a hand to quiet the Coxswain as his mind considered on the ramifications of the secreted cutlass and its second disappearance. "Mister Warren, find Mister Sons and do a search o' the ship. Find tha' cutlass and the party responsible."

Aye. One blue skies smoothies coming right up.

The second bell of the morning watch sounded as the daylight, both greasy and grey, crept into the angry and stormy morning sky. William was wet through, as was every crew member who kept those early hours on the weather decks. The rain was lessened, but not gone. More than once, William slipped and almost fell as the Watch Dog pitched a little on a healthy wave. It wasn't weather requiring life lines, but it was enough to send a sailor or two against the rail for support or vomiting. William sent for the Bosun and turned over the deck watch to him, going below to the galley. There he found Christine looking care worn and tired, but laboring to feed the watches coming off the ropes or heading to them. She gave him a warm smile and he conversed with her on many unimportant subjects as he sipped hot broth. Her winning smile had a way of lifting a day's labor. After a time he thanked her for the food and conversation before ordering himself to bed and needed rest.

Ask and ye shall recieve.

BAM!

I asked a friend about this once. He has been in an Irish Folk band for fifteen years and he has several drums that can't be played until the drum head is moistened with water. Some drums are made in such a way as to require moisture before they achieve their proper pitch. We live in high desert country and the air here is very dry, so he has to soak some of his drum heads just before he plays a set. Still, salt water can't be good on instruments as a rule. The Spanish vihuela was the precursor of the modern guitar and was taken aboard ships as early as the 15th century. In fact, during the 16th century, the early guitar was found in many pubs and was considered a "tavern instrument" because it could not meet the demands of classical music.

The darkness of the middle watch was dark indeed that morning. Three times during the night, the dim lamps of the Danzig Trader disappeared off their larboard bow, and the Chasse de Mer was simply a shape, occasionally illuminated by lightning. William sent for Rummy several times during those hours, with regular reports on the Watch Dog's seams and holds. Sailors kept to the bilge pumps to remove what water came aboard as rain, but everywhere else aboard, all was as tight as a drum. William was ever passing back and forth from larboard to starboard rails with his glass to keep a watchful eye on the Danzig Trader and the Chasse de Mer. Both seemed to be passing the storm with relative ease, but William worried most for the Danzig. She was too high in the water with the loss of the mast weight of the main and mizzenmast, so she bobbed on the surface more than he liked. It couldn't be helped. They were unable to supply sufficient ballast this far out to sea. The Master Carpenter seemed assured that the Danzig would take on no more water than was customary for a ship during heavy rains, and so William hoped it would be so. The storm continued to howl as morning passed, noted only by the bells.

Today's special is cheese blintzes.

William smiled all the while, listening to Mister Lasseter reduce parliaments and wars to the simplest terms imaginable, nodding more than once along the way. "Mister Lasseter, you are a wise and noble sage in an age of reason gone awry. I tip my hat." And indeed, William removed his rain soaked hat and tipped it. "You, sir, are relieved. Get yourself to a shaving mirror and a hot meal. I'll not lose a good councilor to hair and bad weather. Now go glean yourself some much needed rest. Be sure to send word to the cook while you are there, that hot broth shall be the order of the day. I want hot broth all around and a kettle of the stuff sent aloft to the lookouts." Then William's face sobered a bit. He leaned close, so not to send word to anyone but Mister Lasseter. "Sleep while you may. We may be in storms ever after today's has passed. I have the deck."

"I might have made you coxswain, Mister Lasseter." William said, laughing for the first time since leaving the company of Fournier. "But if you are steering about the rocks of my life, then know that I don't mind you knowing of them." William looked straight up into the rain and noted Ciaran bundled and peering out aloft. "In 1696 I took a Dutchman a prize on the wrong side of the war. I have been wanted and unwanted ever since." William pauses, not to give Mister Lasseter a chance to respond, but to decide what passages of his life to read aloud. There are so many to choose from. "Their Captain...this Fournier...he knows who I am. And either he likes it not, or he does not know how to proceed knowing what he knows. And since He does not know, I do not know. I do not like not knowing, Mister Lasseter. I do not like it one little bit."

William turned to the Chasse de Mer. She was well made, fleet of foot and heavily armed. Her cannon were a of a fine make and might out perform the mismatched gathering of cannons gleaned to arm the Watch Dog. The Chasse de Mer was a fighting machine, stem to stern. "She would be a tough bird to slaughter." William turned to Mister Lasseter. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me honestly, Mister Lasseter. Did you know whom you were signing under when you agreed to my post as Captain?"

William doesn't move, but his eyes slide over to the rain blurred visage of the French frigate. His face is still a thinking mask and he says nothing for a time. "Mister Lasseter. What think you are chances are of fighting off the Chasse de Mer?"

The Captain stood on the quarterdeck in the driving rain for a full ten minutes before anyone noticed him there. All were about there duties, each drowning in rain and responsibility. William stood there, watching them separate the two ships. When Mister Lasseter was finished enough to notice him they met there on the quarterdeck. Mister Lasseter found William standing with his crutch, even though he barely leaned on it at all. In fact, it seemed like an affectation or an afterthought. He had a face that seemed undisturbed by the rain. In fact, the captain looked as though he didn't even notice it. "This rain will prove difficult for the match and powder." William said quietly, almost below the sound of the rain.

William smiled and raised an eyebrow to Mister Warren's comments. "You keep a good pace on the rowers, Mister Warren, and an even and steady grip on your nerves and their actions. I appreciate that. A ship's helm is only ever as steady as her helmsman." Though William extended the compliment genuinely to the coxswain, his voice sounded distant and his eyes betrayed that he was far away in thought. He was quiet ever after. Even when they reached the Watch Dog, his thanks to Mister Warren and the barge crew seemed removed. He climbed the ropes, and though a sweat had indeed formed at his brow, the effort seemed too small to trouble him from his thoughts.