William Brand

William waits a moment longer to see if the Bosun will recall, but when he shakes his head again, William nods. "Thank you, Mister Badger. We shall be putting in close to shore for the purpose of retrieving the anchor very soon. Please prepare your men for the work of running close ashore, and mind that we have plenty of room to maneuver."

"Aye, Mister Badger. I did not call for cannon until I was satisifed we could turn the ship enough to make the cannon useful. With the ship stationary, one can only fire when one's enemies are foolish enough to pass in front of the cannon broadside. And if you ordered Mister Youngblood to fire after I was shot then you cannot be held to blame, as Mister Youngblood was already firing and ordering to reload by then." William pauses to put these new facts in order. "How were the Quartermaster, Carpenter and Blacksmith retrieved? Was the barge run out at a later time?"

"You called for full sail and for the Master Gunner to fire after I was shot?"

June 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog First Dog Watch "Please come in, Mister Badger. Won't you have a seat?" William gestures towards a chair for the Bosun. He sets the new sword aside and begins plying Mister Badger with questions. "Mister Badger, can you tell me what happened after I was shot? Who took command of the ship? What became of our enemy and the Dutch Merchantman? Was either sunk? Did we remain in the cove? Please tell me what you can."

"Ah. So you did. Thank you, Mister Lasseter." William goes quiet. He seems lost in thought for a time before returning to the conversation. "Mister Lasseter, please bring us again to the cove, but not into it. We will need several volunteers to dive for the lost anchor cable at low tide tonight. Please find me some good strong swimmers for the task and arm a double watch while we are near to land. And please send me, Mister Badger."

"In truth, Mister Lasseter. I expected to wake not at all, or to wake in the fray of abanding this ship. Had I been aboard the enemy ship I would have shot away the rudder or sunk the Watch Dog in the low water of the cove and ransacked her for all her goods at low tide." William pauses to listen to the lull of the ship and the sounds from above. "Where are we? We are rocking too much to be in shallow water, but we appear to be at anchor."

"Well, before I speak on the matter regarding Mister Youngblood, I should point out that I did not ask anyone to confine the monsignor under lock and key. I did ask, de la Vega to spend some time in his quarters following our conversation earlier today." William pauses. "I cannot see how having him under lock and key can do him any harm, but I'd not see it done just the same. Please leave the room unlocked so that he may come and go at his leisure. As for Mister Youngblood. His too much zeal for powder has caused me to confine him for a time. He went into the rigging along with the rest of the crew at my request during the height of our confrontation with enemy vessels. He and others seemed not to understand my purpose in sending them aloft with a ship bearing down on us and we with no means for motion. I assumed that sailors of any experience would have gone as high as the sails to do the work of releasing the bound up sailcloth there, but I was mistaken. Many of them remained aloft but unengaged in action as the ship bore down on us. True, the apparition that engaged us was frightening in some aspects, but to look aloft and find Mister Youngblood packing a pipe with all the fresh powder buckets spread below him on the gun deck surprised me more than that enemy ship in all of its glorious terror. Then the crew, prompted by shouting from the monsignor, returned to the deck without arranging sufficient sale to move the Watch Dog, and Mister Youngblood opened the ports and fired without orders from either Myself or Mister Badger. I can only assume that they did what they deemed best, despite the Watch Dog's immobility. Fortunately the other ship passed us broadside. If they had chosen to take up a position nearer the stern, we would be half way under water and probably murdered, scattered or taken as slaves. The enemy ship could have kept well out of our range and shot at us at its whim, but we were fortunate."

"Mister Lasseter. Please have a seat. I have not said how agreeable it is to have you safely aboard again. Welcome back, sir. What news have you heard since your return? Other than our poor Jack here, I do not know who is injured or what damages have been done to the ship."

William wakes for the third time since the morning watch and guesses that they must be in the afternoon watch or first dog watch by now. Tempest allows him some food, though specific and in careful portions. He takes all without complaint and allows himself the care that others might refuse. He waits until she seems sufficiently pleased at his obedience to instruction before asking her if he might have a short conversation with Mister Lasseter, promising to be brief and to remain prone. She sends Armand for the Quartermaster. In the interviening time he watches Jack toss about his bunk and murmur things that seem only familiar in vague and half guessed ways. He makes no inquiry, since Tempest's face is enough to give away Jack's condition at this time. He just watches the injured man and waits.

"Thank you, Mister Lasseter. Would you be so kind as to clap Mister Youngblood in irons and see him to a comfortable place in the hold. Also, unless I am much mistaken, he'll have his pipe with him. See that it is brought back here."

William say nothing at all. What can one say when all is said? He just waits for the monsignor to leave and close the door before he collapses, saved only from the floor by Armand and an angry but anxious Tempest. "...imbécile." she hisses. William can't help but smile as she takes him back to bed, because he can't be quite sure which of the three of them she is directing her anger at just then.

William shakes his head in wonder. "Who are you...? Where is that monsignor that was want to upset tables and spill scripture to the heavens? Where is that man? Can you not say "Yes, sir" in my presence even the once? Is it impossible for you to do anything but juggle vocabulary? What will you do when you stand before the Almighty? Will you plague the all seeing eye with excuses adding infinity to infinity until you have overpowered God himself with an eternal explanation?" William runs out of words sufficient to describe his surprise at this utter and unexpected alteration in a man he once counted among his councilors. His knees start to tremble from the exertion of standing so long, endlessly plying this clergyman for some simple semblance of understanding, defiance or absolution. William's face is a mix of anger, disbelief and surprise. "Go to thy cabin, clergyman. Find yourself, because I know not where to find you with words."

"Did you or did you not tell Jack to fetch arms before any orders were given? Did you or did you not tell the lads to get their asses on the deck? Did you or did you not order Mister Youngblood to tell Jack to prepare the barge?"

"Is there not a single "Yes, sir" or "No, sir" in you, sir? Will you weary me with words and slight-of-hand explanations. If I wring you out sir, would I get anything but more muddy water? Will you answer this way again and again until you have done me to death with a weight of words?" William shakes his head with more disbelief now, than he felt when his orders were countermanded. "Was it an "oversight" when you ordered Jack to fetch arms for the crew?" William doesn't wait for a response. "You told the men to get their asses...or rather "Arses" out of the ropes and onto the deck. Did you think they thought it was a suggestion when you saw them go down at the command from aloft? Are you now saying that the crew takes my orders as suggestions and your suggestions as orders?"

William looks more tired about this exacting explanation of numbers in the face of much larger issues than he has since he was shot. "So it shall be the spirit of the law in all things, monsignor? Is that how it is to be? Shall every whim of the crew and officers be the watch word of the Watch Dog?"

"Then I will remind you..." William pauses for a long time, not because he has forgotten, but because the monsignor has told him something else he did not know about the days events. "Three of you went aloft as lookouts? I ordered two aloft, and three went up?"

William was shaking his head even before the monsignor finished. Sweat was building at his temple from the continuous effort of standing, but still he stood shaking his head. "No, de la Vega. Not yet. Not before you understand, that if you make me captain then I will be captain. I will not be a puppet pontiff. I will not be governed. I will not be countermanded. I will not be usurped. I...will...protect...my...ship." William paused only long enough for what he said to sink in. "And...if you make me captain again, I will be sending someone off of this ship. In the interest of this crew and this ship, I will be sending someone away from the Watch Dog, never to return. So you have to decide now, who is leaving. Either I am captain and I have the authority to send off who I must send to protect our lives, or you send me away."

"Beg my leave!? Beg my leave, sir?" William tried twice to get up and failed, putting his arm out in the end to have Armand help him up. Armand almost refused, knowing the anger that appeared in Tempest's face for what it was. She did not want this patient of hers, captain or not, to be up and about, but up and about he came. "How can you beg my leave when even I don't know if I am captain, still? You will give me an answer before you go, sir. You will give me an answer." William winced from the pulling and screaming heat in his chest. "I will not convalesce on this ship as an able seaman."

"Was I dreaming then when you countermanded my orders to set sails? As the owner of this ship, you, and only you, can remove me as captain. Is that what you meant to do, de la Vega, when you countermanded my orders?" William stopped to gather his strength again. Speaking was not impossible, but the emotion driving this conversation to it's unknown end was wearing him out. He plowed on toward that end. "When this ship was threatened, I ordered the men aloft. We were all sitting in harm's way. The ship was at rest, unmoving, and I sent the men aloft to give this ship and this crew a chance to maneuver. Then you relieved me of command. You countermanded my order and sent the crew back to the gun deck. It can only mean one of two things, de la Vega. Either your confidence in my command isn't strong enough to support me and your order was meant as a demotion before the crew or it was a mutiny." William let the word mutiny hang in the air for a time. "But...since it cannot be mutiny, as you are the owner of this ship..." William continued. "...then it must surely be a demotion. And the crew must support the action, for when you countermanded my orders, all of them went in haste to follow you as the Watch Dog went adrift."

William couldn't bring himself to say anything for a very long time, when the monsignor entered the cabin. He just lay there unable to speak, not because he was injured, thought it added to his hesitation, but because the injury to him as captain went so much deeper. He found he couldn't look at Diego, not directly. He found that the longer he waited to respond, the less he wanted to speak at all. And in that silence that remained between Diego's inquires and William response, bells of the progressing morning watch rang. Then William looked directly at Diego and asked him one single question. "Why did you relieve me of command, de la Vega?"

June 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Six bells of Morning Watch

I'm going to need a better hat and coat.

June 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog Between seven and eight bells of Middle Watch The middle watch was almost over aboard the Watch Dog when William finally woke completely. The early light of dawn would come soon and with it a new day. This would be the first day of his life. This would be the day that all the rest were marked by from now on. This was the first day of the new calendar. William tried three times to speak and three times he failed. Then he mustered enough strength for a single order. "...de la Vega ..."

William sank into the dark with the anchor chain wrapped about his neck. He was sinking upside down and dropping to depths that began to press about him until the little bit of air he struggled with went out from him. The rope strangled him as much as the constricting water and he thrashed against the forces which combined now to kill him. Then he woke. A burning, torn pain cut into his consciousness. His chest felt alive with pin pricks and hot pain. He was made to confront the pain so suddenly that he balled up his fists until his forearms ached. Then the initial surprise of his recent injury and surgery subsided. He managed to just keep back the outcry that almost passed his lips. Somewhere, above in the dark, a bell rang the hour. "Fugit hora..." he whispered to no one as he slipped once more into dreams of treachery.

It had been a choice that only she could make. In this surgery, in this small tiny ship within a ship, she was Captain. A man had been brought to her with a ball of lead in his body. That ball had been propelled into his flesh by a few dozen grains of powder by an enemy that knew an officer when it saw one. She was given two choices and two choices only. Stop the bleeding and help him recover only to endanger his life with prolonged exposure to that projectile resting in his frame, or take it out now and risk losing him at his weakest and most mortal state. Tempest had never been a waiting doctor. Like the storms her name implied, she was a rage of activity. She was a force of will... ...and she never liked to cut open a patient twice. . . . Now, hours later, she cleaned her instruments. She put them away in compartments and boxes. She gathered bloodied rags. She washed down a sticky table and a floor of clotted blood and gritty sand. She worked, continuing to occupy herself as her nerves began to unwind. Since finishing the surgery, half a dozen others had come and gone with injuries so simple that they were almost a nuisance by comparison. Splinters, bruises and burns. She treated them all without a word of complaint. She listened to the description of devils and phantoms over and over. Every patient seemed to need to speak about the terrible afternoon. Then they were gone, each returned to their duties. The ship rocked. Tempest sat. The Captain breathed.