William Brand

Mister Warren, if I had known they were to be friends, I would have learned more French as a child. Still, we shall wait on the cutter presently. I should think we will find one soon enough on the ocean. I will think on the matter for the time being. Please join Mad Jack in the creation of target barrels for the sport of the crew.

Mister Lasseter. Have Mister Youngblood keep the cannons charged from before. Please have him cover the barrels to keep that powder dry. We shall demonstrate the cannons at sunset. Please have Jack take those barrels unfit for repair and tar them to be used as targets. We shall give the gunners a much needed opportunity to try their hands at a killing.

I shall speak with them, sir. Please accompany me. William goes below to speak with Jim Warren and John Sons. Finding them both in chains, he has the shackles removed and he takes a seat opposite them in the galley. "We have come into a tenative alliance. It is based on an understanding with the French. This understanding was almost undone by your choice of cutter. I appreciate your efforts, gentlemen, but as the situation stands, due to a comedy of errors and irony, we cannot keep the cutter." William looks upset by more than this, but sticking to the subject he continues. "The French Captain has dropped any charges that could have been filed against you, and since I am not angry at your actions, you are released back to your duties." "But first gentlemen, let me say this..." William smiles then. "You beautiful, damn, impetuous fools! Would that I had been there when you took that cutter!" William shakes his head. "What metal. What bravado! You'd both steal from the devil and I'd be the one to hold the gate for you."

moved

The silence remained for several minutes. The bell was struck above decks, signaling the hour. "Too soon." William thought. "It is too soon. If I make a poor judgment now, the whole of the matter may fall apart. And for what? A cutter? I could ask this man to lie, but I think not. He doesn't look like a bribe would take. And then what? The frigate joins the xebec and they both come down upon me together and we go against them, crew untested. No. It is too soon for gambles. Too soon." William placed his empty glass upon the table. His smile was the same, but like any card player worth his salt, he knew when to lay down and admit that the deck was stacked against him. "You and I might do business, Capitaine." William began, "But I think it may not be to my advantage to do so at this time." Moreau said nothing. Just a nod again. Just a single nod. "Perhaps instead, you might take back my apologies to the owner of that fine cutter." "I shall do so, Monsieur." Moreau said with a genuine smile, that bespoke no qualms. "Perhaps your men...these enthusiasts of yours...they were hasty to see your, Monsignor, and rushed to his side?" William smiled then. It was a trade of understanding and he liked Moreau all the more for it. He was glad to not make an enemy of this man. It would be a waste for them to fire folly at one another. "Merci, Capitaine Moreau. Your understanding in this matter is most welcome. I believe we shall...procure...our cutter elsewhere." Moreau smiled. William smiled. Even Armand smiled, but the two captains were grinning that smile understood only by sharks and devils. "We might never be friends," William thought, "But heaven help all about us if we are ever enemies." ... William departed Captain's company and soon they were aboard the cutter, now crewed with extra men from the Nymphe to see them back to the Watch Dog. Capitaine Moreau saluted them as they went and William returned the gesture. Nigel was quiet and seemed to glower at the French oarsmen. Tucker was indifferent. Miss Smith was as carefully composed as ever. Mad Jack looked at once relieved and disappointed. "Good man." William thought. He smiled at Jack. When they reached the ship, he released his small band to the galley for food and refreshment. He nodded to Mister Youngblood who was standing near several men who were doing their best not to look interested in the loaded cannons on the Watch Dog's larboard side. William was glad to see that they had prepared for all options. "Mister Lasseter. You can have the men stand down there. Thank you for the precaution. Pass on my compliments to Mister Youngblood and Mister Badger." William watched the Nymphe roll away with mixed regrets. Only then did William understand something that had never been said. And only then was he worried by what he understood.

William excepted all invitations graciously, moving to subjects other than the cutter as they made their way about the ship. Capitaine Moreau did the same, and like William, he was an avid player of practiced faces and subtle alterations. They danced around the subjects that both of them wished to address, each offering the other a chance to broach the subject. It was a chess match of masks and mirrors. The longer it went, the more they seemed to enjoy the conversation. Moreau was a man both of education and experience. William tested him with questions and plied him for details. Moreau was at once clear and vague, never surrendering any ground, but all the while he widened the playing field. Swords could do and would do with most enemies, but the parries that played out now were far more graceful. Far more deadly. At first, William thought that Armand might be oblivious to the interchange, but then he noticed that even Armand was in the fray. His estimation of Armand was very different before the conversation was over. After a tour, that was both revealing and baffling, they retired to Moreau's cabin for refreshment. Here, the conversation changed its tack at once. "Your cutter, Capitaine, she is French." Moreau stated in a most matter-of-fact tone. "Aye." William returned, "She is of that make." "She is does not belong to you, I think." "She does and doesn't. Or rather, she is in my employ for the time being." Moreau smiled at this and William smiled back. Here was a gentlemen's game. Here was a fool's game. Wars began in very little rooms like this. "Was this your doing, Monsieur." "It was the result of a request of mine. To say it was my doing would be overstepping the truth a bit." William returned smiling, careful to keep his tone neutral as he spoke. "I cannot let you keep it." Moreau said as easily as one discusses a turn in the weather. "You could call it a gift." "I could call it theft, Monsieur." "We might call this hospitality a kidnapping..." William began, pausing to let the word kidnapping hang in the air. Armand was the only one not speaking, but his body language spoke volumes by comparison to William and Moreau. They sat, each holding a drink, and each measuring the other with words that revealed nothing. "...but it isn't that. Is it, Capitaine?" William finished. Both men remained quite for some time. Neither man moved. Their smiles seemed to lessen only a little. Armand looked as though he wished to speak, but he said nothing. "The men and women in my charge are quick to act when offered the freedom of any duty. Sometimes this leads them to decisions born of flight and might, not of great thought. I asked some of my men to fetch me a cutter. I gave them purse for that purpose. Their enthusiasm, not to mention their thirst, outpaced their wits I think. Their too much want to please has led to misunderstanding." William finished his short explanation. Moreau seemed to consider, but answered with a nod only. It was neither a yes or no. William sipped his drink. Moreau smiled. The ship rocked at anchor.

Aye, doctor. All the news can be revealed aboard the Watch Dog. Perhaps you should take some other boat than the cutter to the Watch Dog?

"Merci." He takes the returned handshake, but can't keep his eyes from straying about the xebec. His eyes fall on her sails, the high prow and stern, the long curvature of her beams. "Forgive me, but might I walk about your fine ship? I've not seen her like in a score of years. She is fine..." His words trail off as he returns to the present with haste upon hearing the surgeon's manservant. "Armand. Tempest. Hello, my good Doctor. I believe that you are needed urgently aboard the Watch Dog. Our dear clergyman has been bitten by a serpent while in the heavy cover of the jungle and is, even now, at a fever in the surgery. Would you you go to him presently? He is much recovered, but he is still in the sleep of the unknown."

William removes his hat and stands with his hand still on the tiller. "Bonjour et merci." William smiles up with all of the charm he can muster. He take the ladder almost immediately, leaving Mad Jack the free tiller, as he ascends the ladder. "Merci." William steps onto the xebec's deck and the smile he wears now is as genuine as they come. He looks about, not at the crew, but the ship. He is almost distracted by it, but only for a moment before he addresses his hosts. "Forgive me, but I believe that my French would offend even the Scottish. I have no tongue for tongues, it seems. William Holland." He presents his hand as he removes his hat with the other.

William brings the cutter alongside in a wide arc that is both slow and deliberate. He approaches her niether too fast or too slow, giving all aboard the time to see her and the few sailors who occupy her. "Ahoy! Permission to come aboard!"

William goes aboard the cutter with four able seamen. He takes none of them armed, save for those knives common to sailors. He puts Miss Smith and Mad Jack just ahead of him as he takes the tiller. He places Brisbane and Tucker at the lead of the boat. "Row away, lass and lads. Row away!" He turns the tiller and allows the boat to slip out from the Watch Dog. "Mister Lasseter! The ship is yours!"

Once the men are all aboard, William leans in to both lads and whispers, "We shall now make a great show of clapping you both in irons. Be careful that you understand how important it is that you are sent bellow." William walks away from the two staggering sailors. "Mister Lasseter! Clap these men in irons and have them taken below! I shall go immediately to the neighboring ship, hard by, and discuss the situation. Mad Jack, Miss Smith, Mister Brisbane and Mister Tucker, you're with me!"

William rushes to his cabin to dress more formally. After a time he reappears on deck, and for the first time since taking command, he looks the part. He walks out to the rail in a long coat of tans, yellows and gold over a vest of deep burgandy. He slips the baldric with cutlass over his shoulder and places a wide black hat on his head. He wears no pistol. Only a calm and patient face that only just hides a smile. He stands at the rail waiting for the cutter to arrive.

Thank you, Mister Lasseter. Send for Mister Warren and Mister Sons to bring the cutter along our starboard side.

Enough of this individual banter about this and that. Which of you sea dogs is actually going to be there? (raises hand) I'm bringing Mad Dog Mike and Andria the Dragon.

William stood but a while longer watching the ship's approach. Then the empty report of a powder shot brought him round. "Mister Badger, please call Mister Lasseter to the deck and have the Master Gunner fire off a signal shot only. No ball, if you please. Only powder. It seems that we have guests."

"She is offering us her side Mister Badger. We'll offer her no reason to change her mind."

William continued to watch the ship's approach. Then, she quite suddenly turned in her course, showing herself broadside. William couldn't have been more shocked. She was a xebec. "As I live and breath..." It had been some 20 years since he had seen such a ship. She was as delicate and sturdy a xebec as he had ever seen. She was trimmed just like the last one he had known: triangular sails and leaning hard over on her tiller to show her empty gunports. "Someone bring me Mad Jack." He continued to watch her until she returned to a forward course, not quite along the Watch Dog's line. He stared through the glass, unable to take his eyes off her. She was the most unexpected joy he had known in the past 48 horrible bells. His mind went back to a hundred different memories of Mahdi. How many times had they crossed the Eastern Mediteranean on a xebec? How many times had they sailed into trade ports on just such a craft? "What the devil is she doing here...?"

"Jack, in the abscence of Mister Morgan, would you be so kind as to distribute a modest number of pistols among the crew." William places emphasis on the word modest. "Go about it carefully, Jack. Most...carefully. Let's not start a fight we can't manuever in. Don't give out pistols to any crew member who looks either too wary or too anxious to be armed. Am I understood?"

William passes the surgery on his way onto the deck. There appears to be no great change there, except that the Monsignor's arm has regained much of its color and Ciaran seems to have found sleep at last. Once on deck, William finds the ship working as it should and not for the first time he is grateful for those officers who step up to fill the gaps during such trials. "Mister Badger. My compliments to you and the riggers. The work lines look well placed and everything seems in order above." William steps up to the shrouds and climbs up into the rigging. Each line feels taught and well set. He mounts to the Main top-gallant mast and allows his weight to hang upon several lines. Satisfied with all above there, he climbs the mizzen and the foremast, randomly moving along the ratlines and swinging on the stays. After ran hour aloft he decends again to the decks looking tired and refreshed at the same time. "Mister Badger. Why sir, you've outdone yourse..." William stops short as an overhead lookout shouts down to the decks. "SHIP ASTERN! THREE POINTS AFT OF THE LARBOARD BEAM!" The deck becomes a rush of feet as men join William the length of the ship along the larboard rail. William's glass comes out like a sword drawn. An excited volley of conversation starts up along the rail, but William remains statuesque for a long time. He watches the manner of the unknown ship and the way in which her crew presents itself. He notes that the ship is fleet of foot, but she is presenting no outward signs of threat or malice. Still, ever cautious in his ways, William calls the officers together. "Mister Badger. Have these men ready for either hosting or boarding. We'll see what she's about presently. Bring me Mad Jack."

June 13, 1704 "Thank you, Jack. Let the exaggeration of your actions last night remain. We are nothing if not creatures of myth in this business. We should all be surrounded by a haze of foggy details. It makes our enemies more cautious." William smiles a little then. "To your other duties, Jack. Please inform me when the barge is repaired, if you would." William turns back to Ciaran and orders him to bed. Still not wanting to be too cruel with kindness, he allows Ciaran the use of one of the surgery bunks, so that he might remain in the room with the Monsignor.

William seemed not to hear Cheryl at first. Then turning with a nod and a smile he stepped into the companion way. "Thank you, Cheryl. Forgive my slow response. I am quite tired. Would you stay with Ciaran while I speak with Jack here? William rubs the bridge of his nose for a moment and seems to be in deep thought for a long while before addressing Mad Jack. "Good, sir. I have not thanked you properly for your haste, and Mister Johnson's forethought. Please except the Monsignor's gratitude, as I'm sure he would extend it to you if he could."

I'm going in spirit. Damn it all.

The night had been a long one. A nervous and sallow wisp of a doctor had arrived from town, courtesy of Mad Jack and a flurry of hooves. Cut Throat had delivered him to the ship with due haste and then below to where the Monsignor lay in a fever reborn of poison. The doctor's examination was a cursory one at best, falling back on medical arts that seemed unchanged for a hundred years. He was going for a thumb lancet for use in bleeding Diego when he stopped stock still. William was holding his hand at arm's length across the table and the doctor was made keenly aware of the wicked curve of a boarding knife laid gently across his breast bone. "No doctor," William whispered gently as he shook his head."We'll not be biting the Monsignor twice in one day." If the doctor had not been pale before, he was now. His lips spread into a tremulous smile as he began to speak. "He has a great need..." But William, was still shaking his head. The doctor replaced the lancet in his bag and drew out a bottle of some elixir and a clean white cloth. "Perrrrrhaps a compress...?" William nodded. The doctor parroted the nod and went about his work. ... Now it was morning. William awoke to Cairan's voice. He rose from a chair not meant for sleeping. Ciaran was mopping the brow of a mumbling Monsignor. William noted the sleeping surgeon, now curled up and hugging his bag childlike to his chest in the corner. The doctor had a thin and uneven snore. Ciaran seemed to be listening to each word the Monsignor was saying, with or without understanding. William began to translate... "They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them. Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you."

A breakfast comprised of just french toast and bacon...? Is this heaven?