William Brand

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?

(William's attempts to rest are interrupted frequently by his own concerns for the Monsignor. Three times in the first hour he returns to the Monsignor and Ciaran. After the third time he chooses to remain awake and takes a chair near the clergyman.) His breathing is better. Aye. Better, but I'd still rather see him awake. (He notes that some of the swelling has decreased, but since he cannot know the nature of the snake and its venom, he cannot know if this is a good sign.)

June 12, 1704 William left Ciaran to watch the Monsignor as he went out upon the decks. Mister Badger was amidships and under his charge, the crew was aloft to check and change the rigging. William watched this balancing act of sailors dancing at perilous heights among the ratlines. "Thank you for taking charge, Mister Badger. Send word below of any pressing matter. I am to bed for a time. You have the deck.

I knew the place would be in good hands. Aye. The Kate looks none the worse for wear. Did someone oil this door hinge? My, my. I shall have to leave more often.

William rose from his chair, popping his back as he went. "Mister Johnson. Please take the raft, or if one of the boats is seaworthy now, take that and go ashore. Take another crew member with you and wait on shore. The condition of the Monsignor seems to be improving by small degrees. It has certainly not become worse than before, but just the same, I should like to have you ashore. If the doctor returns today you can bring her to the ship with speed. If the Monsignor begins to languish I shall signal to you to rush off to town with all diligence for a doctor. Please take what water and food you may need while ashore, and..." William fishes out some coin. "...take this in case you must spur a doctor to hurry to our aid."

(An hour passed in this fashion. Then two. Three times, William sent for water. and three times it came. The Monsignor showed no outward sign of change as they washed his wound and bathed his face and arms with water. William sent for a water basin and clothes from Ciaran's footlocker so he could refresh himself. Food was also fetched and brought. The workers above went about their business. Passers by would stop to look, but only for a moment. No words were exchanged. The bells seemed far apart. William sent for Mister Johnson.)

(William walked briskly to Ciaran's side and stood a long while over the fallen Monsignor. The captain might have been worried, but it was hard to tell by looking at him. These were the moments when his face became the mask that hid the fear or the indecision that might or might not be there. Then in a voice both quiet, but absolutely direct in its directions he began to sound orders. Each one in succession.) Mister Ciaran. Have these men take Diego to the surgery. Do not lend yourself to the strain, but direct them as they go. Keep the Monsignor's head higher than his wounded arm at all times. Send for Mister Lasseter or Mister Badger. One of them shall have the deck. See these casks put away. We'll not have the risks these good men have taken go to waste. I shall be below. (William followed the small rabble of men as they carried the monsignor below to the surgery. His orders came quick then.) Place something under his head. Remove anything that constricts his blood flow. Take off those boots there. Remove his ring. Loosen his collar. Let's have some soap and fetch some clean water from the casks being brought aboard. (William had seen his share of snake bites. Swamps in the Americas produced such venomous vermin in droves. He had seen many a man brought to death by panic and the mismanagement of his care. Too often a man was bled to draw out the poison. Better to wash a wound and let what blood a man had fight the poison then to drain him. This much medicine he knew, and was grateful that he knew it. He tied a small cloth just a few inches above and below the bite. He was careful to not tie them too tightly. Already, the arm was in a bad way and looked as though it would never recover, but this was often a deceptive condition. William looked around then at the worried faces that crowded the room. He tried to manage a comforting smile while he worked.) Don't worry lads. Nor you either, ladies. This is a strong bird. One of the strongest I have met and certainly o'er shadowed by a divine and watchful eye. (His smile seemed to redouble.) Why, he'll be doing handsprings on the bowsprit before the week is out. Mark my words. I've seen men recover from worse bites than this. (This was a lie, but what of that? The Monsignor would more than likely survive. Men often did. And he was a strong man with piss and vinegar running through him that would stave off any poison.) Hell, this man is more immortal than mortal. (Then William excused them to their duties, allowing Ciaran to stay and assist him as he washed and rewashed the wound.) Thank you, Mister Ciaran. I can only imagine what pains it must have taken to bring this good man back here. I believe he will recover. No other man aboard might be better off than our Monsignor. Yea, though I walk through the shadow of death, my good Monsignor? The Monsignor said nothing.

In the morning, please report to Mister Lasseter and Mad Jack about the necessary repairs to the Longboat and the Barge. Some of your handiwork may be needed there. Because of the lateness of the hour, consider your day closed. Thank you again, Mister Hawks. (William finishes out the hour before his watch relief comes on deck. Then, using a lantern, he signals the all well to Mister Johnson on shore and waits for the signal to return back.)

Thank you, Mister Sons. Here is coin for tomorrow's journey. Take what you may need from the larder and the ship's arms before you depart and see that you get enough rest. Goodnight, Mister Sons. (William shoulders a musket and takes a turn at watch.)

Ahhhh. The cannon straps. Excellent, Mister Sons. I'll fetch some lads to bring these aboard.

(William waits at the rail. Ciaran and the Monsignor have been gone long and far from sight. The sun is heading down with speed and too many crew members are gone to town or on other errands of importance. Not the least of these is the good doctor, gone far away on business that may vastly effect the ship and crew.) Too many gone too far, I think. Aye. Too many at once.

Thank you, Mister Sons. That will do fine. If you depart early, please notify one of the crew members on watch and be sure to go with pistols and powder. with so much of the crew on various expeditions, I should like to see you both well armed. I will send you with some of the ship's purse, in case the bartering of the cutter becomes difficult. For now, would you ferry Mister Hawks and his workers over to the beachhead? They need to attack some work at the forge.

Thank you, Mister Hawks. Take a few men to speed the work and borrow a musket and pistol for each man before you go. The crew is spread thin on errands and I want each man armed to defend himself.

Thank you, Monsignor. Take arms ere you go.

(Still smiling) I'm not angry, Mister Lasseter. Not angry at all. The work being done has outpaced my expectations, gentlemen. Aye. I've not seen such work performed so fast in all my days.

Aye. I gave orders to have them filled yesterday? Why was this not done...? (He glares...but it dissolves into a smile.) Forgive me, Monsignor. I am having you on, sir. I can imagine such an order was lost in the midst of so much work and preparation. You have my leave of course to fill the water barrels. I believe this may be the self same stream that supplies the fort. It comes down from the height behind the fort, does it not?

(William paces the Captain's Cabin. The room is not small. The room is not large. For a ship of this size it is quite comfortable. It is sparsely furnished, as are most quarters of this kind. The windows offer it a feeling of space like no other room aboard, while the ceiling presses in. The natural wooden timbers and beams that make up the room are in fine shape and the well worn floorboards hint of long hours and much use by many officers previous. William thinks on the Captain before, one so suddenly taken from life. What strange providence that Captain William should be so soon replaced by Captain William.) "An ill omen, that." (He let's his mind wander to other matters as he places his things about the room. He hangs an Ottoman yatagan sword on the wall. The blade is broken, but no matter. It has a beauty in its destruction that appeals to him. He hangs a map of heavy oiled leather on the opposite wall and traces the many countries there. He notes the inaccuracy of many coasts, enjoying it all the more for them. He sets out a doumbeck and taps it softly only for a moment. Then he goes above to see what business of the day is being done.)

Thank you, Miss Smith. Please send my thanks to Mister Hawks.

(William stands before the work being finished on the mast banding. He runs his hands over the newly hammered iron with a smile, remembering what use he made of a hammer in his youth and in appreciation of Mister Hawks fine work. He sends for his messenger.) Take my thanks to Mister Hawks at the forge. He has replaced this tired band with divine prescision and I am grateful. Tell him that he and his crew are free from their duties upon completion of the mast work to restore themselves by food and sleep for as long for they require. (William goes below.)

Beautiful attention to detail.

Picture of Flintlock Jack and Tempest. Tempest, back center with Flintlock Jack in front.

(William walks the night deck of the Watch Dog. With most of the crew at rest or at work on pressing repairs, he offers to take up a watch so that some tired soul can retire to his hammock. He takes his musket aloft and spends an hour in the mizzenmast before coming down again to inspect the guns along the quarter deck. Here he finds the lines are neatly set and even the uneven placement of the 12 pounder along the starboard side has a kind of symmetry to it. It adds an element of carefree mischief not to be found on a ship of higher military bearing. It also fits the mismatched but eclectic nature of the crew. He moves throughout the ship to find completed work that is a credit to the sailors here. Mister Youngblood's newly trained recruits have shown that they can transport the cannons with efficiency and utmost skill. Some cannons, worn and weathered when purchased, now gleam by lantern light. The new band work now showing at the mast demonstrates what work can be done by an accomplished blacksmith. Mister Hawks has completed each task with a veteran's eye. The shrouds and stays seem almost refreshed. Captain Badger has plucked out decaying line and cable, replacing the rigging so perfectly, one cannot tell the new from the tried and true. Rummy's new carpentry blends flawlessly into the old. Only the new paint gives away the recent repairs. Everywhere he goes he finds evidence of good men and women's work and their pride in the Watch Dog. The Doctor's clean and organized surgery. The Cook's well stocked larder. The Tailor's tidy mess of cloth and thread. The stowed charts and logbooks of the Navigator. Even the able seamen in their crowded spaces have polished up the lanterns and the oiled beams of the living space pressed between each cannon and stowed within the Forecastle. All is well. The Watch Dog all but begs to sail. Even as she was uprighted again she seemed to rotate on her belly, now more toward the sea.) "Now to sea. Now to sea. The tide is but awhile off now." (Jim Warren stirs in his hammock and then sleeps again. Mad Cheryl rocks silently next to a half dozen other sailors. Patrick snores softly under a heavy hat. A thousand quiet noises on a deck that will soon know screams and shouts and hellfire. William goes above and stands at the rail wondering, not for the first time, if the Hammerhead is still afloat on some other sea than this.)

(Assured that the doctor is in good hands with Armand, William moves about the shoreline seeing to orders given and moving sailors along with haste. He then has an oarsman take him to the ship where he finds a flurry of activity. He moves about the ship here and there giving orders.) See to that pitch pot there! Stow it with the caulk hammers and the scrapers! You there! Look lively! See to that wood! That's it lads! Step to your places! Good Lady, to the holds with that luggage! All gear below! Mind the braces there! Get this livestock down below! See these animals secure! Good work there, Master Gunner! Tight lines and sheltered powder. Aye. Stow that length of cable, sir. Mister Badger. Send these extra men aloft! You there! Secure that eyelet with line! Mind that frayed ratline! (Smiles at the spry and speedy laborers) Mister Lassester. Mister Badger. Monsignor, you have the deck. I must go below and store charts and arms.