Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The carriages began forward motion, swaying gently upon large spring support. Small lanterns gave dim lumination to the interiors as evening darkend her robe's shade. It was not a journey of great legnth and the destination would come to view sooner than some were prepared to meet it. Quiet speculation took place betwixt Badger and St. Anthony, conversing to pass the time and dampen the tinge of nervousness that surrounded small company.

On opposit side of oppulant craft, Armand kept ridgid composure. The situation itself did nothing to jangle his nerve, the young woman seated next to him was another story. He had been inspired to make comments to Miss Tudor and found that the words kept dying in his throat. Shifting in his seating, the Gascon stole peripheral glance and was still taken aback by the sight...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

In time, the carriages lurched as they came to a halt infront of the Don's sumptious abode. Tudor silently thanked the heavens. She could feel her escort's tension, and while it quietly amused her, even flattered her, she needed all of her composure. The all clamboured out of the carrigaes, onto the drive infront of the mansion, Armand proffering his hand as aide as Tudor delicately held up her skirts as she decsended, carefully placing the brocade slipper as not to get it caught or dirty. When she had finally stepped down, she turned to face Armand, and looked him in the eye. "Thank you" She said, with the first, and quite possibly the last sincere smile for the evening.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::All had disembarked from the coaches and stood smoothing out clothing from the slightly cramped enclosures of the trip. Soon, a servant who was much more regally dressed then those of the coaches approached, his finery and powdered wig almost a work of art...

Leftenent Lamaire turned to Captian William and they both stepped a pace towards the servant who began to speak with them in spanish, sone nods and murmurings occured, then the two officers turned to face their assembled officers. Lamaire held out his hand for William to address the group...::

[William Brand]

::All had disembarked from the coaches and stood smoothing out clothing from the slightly cramped enclosures of the trip. Soon, a servant who was much more regally dressed then those of the coaches approached, his finery and powdered wig almost a work of art...

Lamaire turned to Captian William and they both stepped a pace towards the servant who began to speak with them in spanish, sone nods and murmurings occured, then the two officers turned to face their assembled officers. Fournier held out his hand for William to address the group...::

William turned to his small compliment of officers, but was at a loss as to what he might say to them at that moment. He understood how much each of them grasped the importance of the evening's event. Looking at them now only served to confirm this. In fact, he found that no words were necessary.

Mister Lasseter was standing with the same profound respect that he showed when he held the holy ground of the quarterdeck. There was some mirth in his eyes, but they seemed to say, 'Well, man, get on with it. We all know why we are here'. Tempest's eyes were as calm as a good captain in a storm. She had seen too many courts not to know what was expected of her. She stood quietly. A tiger on a thread. Miss Smith was in good spirits, and since he had never known her to do anything but her duty, he expected no less now. Besides, she and Armand seemed more distracted by each other than the event before them. Mister St. Anthony and Mister Badger were as two veteran centurians, bringing up the rear guard of the troupe. Both of them bore a dignified formality that boded well.

William simply nodded and turned again to Lamaire and the Don's servants with a look that said 'Lead on'.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Dominique slyed his eyes over the gathering and was pleased, in truth he had expected no less with consideration to their leader. With a nod of acknowledgement to William, he turned to the valet and spoke briefly. The valet left company to gain the hacienda's interior. Returning attention to William, he quipped...

" Shall we, Capitaine? The night is young and the pleasures to be consumed numerous. Capitaine Fournier will be notified of our arrival and meet us in the foyer. From there...We shall see, non?"

Lamaire gave the other a look of support and reassurance, " Is there anything that I may add to aid you before we enter?"

[William Brand]

"Thank you, but no." William said, sounding most reassured of himself, but added. "Of course, if I should slip during the night and create a scene by tripping over myself, socially speaking, please catch me as I fall."

"But of course, Capitaine."

Then they went in by twos like so many mismatched animals into the ark that was the Don's estate. The volume of it could not fully be appreciated from the outside. One had to enter into the maze of courts and corridors to fully understand the opulence of the place. It rolled back from the gates in tiers and towers. Everything was awash with light and soft music from within.

"Grand." William said, adding nothing to it but the same word again. "Grand."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As promised, when the small mixed company made enterance to stand on high polish of marble surface, they encountered their second supporter. Jean-Micheale was just entering the expanse of foyer at their arrival. The amber eyes made quick survey of all as he stopped in front of William.

"Bonsoir, mon ami. I see you have made well of your journey here and it is good to see you in better constitution..." The Frenchman's focus slyed to the Surgeon and escort briefly. "Please, welcome and enjoy...Don Vasquez will be ready to speak with you soon. In the mean time. Please allow me to guide you all to where the wine and so forth are kept."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

**double entry**

[William Brand]

William set aside all ceremony to clap hands with Fournier and exchange greetings that had nothing to do with courts, politics or nations. They exchanged pleasantries and William took the opportunity to apologize for his previous departure.

"I would not have left your hospitality so suddenly, but I could not allow my officers and crew to linger another day in the unknown."

Fournier both accepted and discarded the apology at once, knowing full well the reason for such a leave of absence, and William allowed himself to be lead away by the French Captain into the throng of food, lights and music.

The grandeur of the place was not spoiled by the guests within. The gathering guests of the event were indeed a mix of rare and beautiful people. Gowns, uniforms, smocks, veils, bracelets, swords, hats, plumes, earings, scarves, surcoats and all manner of finery moved about the room in a sea of forms and faces. It was a painting come to life. It was a breathtaking spectacle.

William also saw it for what else it was. A battlefield.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As the small company joined the throng, they were observed and scrutinized by those who's paths they crossed. Woman paused in preening and gathered companions near to whisper comment, gentleman glanced to one another in silent accord...It was as any gathering of upper classes.

Having led the newcomers to aray of food and drink to be had, Jean-Micheale stood back with Lamaire near and watched the room. He and his own had gained acceptance of the current denizines and it was guaranteed that his presence would detour any foolish action. A servant came near bearing tray of silver wrought and Lamaire was quick to pluck crystal glass from its' surface unnoticed.

Fournier saw no reason that things should not follow smooth coursing, a thought that was disrupted as his focus was drawn to material of royal blue. Dominique paused mid-draught to decipher what his cousin was so intent on and seeing. By following line of sight, the answer presented itself. A knowing grin played Lamaire's features before he finished the draught neglected...

[Kendra The Sea Maid]

*it was a still night, she thought about the ladies in the elaborate ball gowns twirling about to the dolsed tones of the violin* "This is getting me no where," And once again to stop her mind from wandering as she has so many times before she begins to sing.*

From across the room you see him standin there

Full of charm, grace and with out care.

With a SNAP, a flutter,a smile, and then

Your hand veil is before your eye again.

"Who is she? This elagent mystery."

He makes a move toward you,

And you know at once what you must do.

You must play with him liken to a toy

For all men were once a little boy.

"Who is she? This elagent mystery."

Soon he is to give chase

And your heart and fan move a quicker pace.

You taught and tease

Hoping to bring his spirit to its knees.

"Who is she? This elagent mystery."

Finally he brings an end to your little game.

All he wants is a kiss and a name.

"One, or the other, you have to choose."

"Either way I'd say I loose."

"Who is she? This elagent mystery."

[Dorian Lasseter]

The ellegance of the surroundings were quite grande in the eyes of Mr. Lasseter, having only been in such opulence a handful of times before, and never in this capacity. Previous ventures into this realm had been while in service to the English Crown serving as a cerimonial guard for a group of officers, he was completely ignored on those occasions, being a non-entity to those highborne individuals. This occasion was very different and he did well to keep a passive stature, even when he and Capitaine Fournier's eyes had met as he had caught the Capitaine in his study of Ms. Fitzgerald and himself. All he did was the slightest nod of his head, the barest acknowledgement of a superior officer...

Soon, they were near the tables spread with luxurious delights of the palate. The tables held more food than what the Watch Dog could stow down in it's hold for such. It took a moderate amount of restrain not to indescriminately begin sampling the rich pleasures until given permission, or until others had broken their fast. A servant slowly walked in their direction bearing a platter of crystal finery.

"Ms. Fitzgerald, would ye care for a glass?"

[William Brand]

William noted and measured the regard that Capitaine Fournier and Mister Lasseter gave one another. It wasn't unexpected. And who could blame them. The two shared a common interest that was anything but common. A woman strong enough to play the necessary roles of court and surgery was worth her weight in gold. Still, he could have done without the extra distractions, controlled as they may be.

He took a proffered glass from a passing servant and drank slowly, interrupting his consumption with a nod here and a smile there.

The night would be a long and revealing one.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The flash of colours, the rustle of material, and the general hum of voices and clinking of crystal all made for a sensory overload. Tudor absorbed every moment of it from the moment she was escorted in through the wide doors. Not a detail escaped her notice.

After surveying the room, Tudor turned to her escort, and offered him a coy smile. "Well, Monsieur, are we actually going to have any words between us this evening, or shall we continue on in silence?" Before Armand could respond, the servant passed with a tray of wine glasses, and Tudor delicatly retreived one for her self, and lifted it in salut to Armand, taking a sip of the rich liquid.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The ellegance of the surroundings were quite grande in the eyes of Mr. Lasseter, having only been in such opulence a handful of times before, and never in this capacity. Previous ventures into this realm had been while in service to the English Crown serving as a cerimonial guard for a group of officers, he was completely ignored on those occasions, being a non-entity to those highborne individuals. This occasion was very different and he did well to keep a passive stature, even when he and Capitaine Fournier's eyes had met as he had caught the Capitaine in his study of Ms. Fitzgerald and himself. All he did was the slightest nod of his head, the barest acknowledgement of a superior officer...

Soon, they were near the tables spread with luxurious delights of the palate. The tables held more food than what the Watch Dog could stow down in it's hold for such. It took a moderate amount of restrain not to indescriminately begin sampling the rich pleasures until given permission, or until others had broken their fast. A servant slowly walked in their direction bearing a platter of crystal finery.

"Ms. Fitzgerald, would ye care for a glass?"

The interchange had not gone unnoticed, but having been schooled in the art of subtle observations, the silent conversation was not given outward reaction. She was well aware of her surroundings and the presence of Jean-Micheale. These were things that would be placed secondary for the time being. Dominique had revealed much in private interchange and the occasion would arise in which to lay demons to rest...But not now.

At the sound of Mister Lasseter's query, she refocused on near surround and offered a congenial smile with slight incline of head in ascent.

" I do think that such would be a wonderful way to start this affaire. I am sure that anything which is to be had will be of highest qualities and therfore, I shall not be descriminating to what you procure."

The Surgeon watched after Dorian's track of interception briefly, then returned to vissage of poised feline feigning slumber. It was never well to show just how aware one was and this situation begged a chameleon guise offering a reflection of other women present. Same mannerisms, same bearing, another coquette amongst many of the same. And so it was, that no matter the distance of seperration nor movement of time, what scenes played out within this opulant room held no difference to those of mother nations.

It was a grand tournement and the stakes were high, the winnings even more so. Various tiers of social climbers always looking for higher plateau, whether by marriage or buisness agreement, the chess game that played out here was never for the weak or feint of heart.

Her eyes rested briefly on William as he deftly navigated conversations with curious passers by. She suppressed a smile as she watched his corgial expression, always the gentleman to the ladies and the same with own gender. Their eyes met briefly and she signified her approval with slightest decline of chin before looking on to Dorian's progress.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The flash of colours, the rustle of material, and the general hum of voices and clinking  of crystal all made for a sensory overload. Tudor absorbed every moment of it from the moment she was escorted in through the wide doors. Not a detail escaped her notice.

After surveying the room, Tudor turned to her escort, and offered him a coy smile.  "Well, Monsieur, are we actually going to have any words between us this evening, or shall we continue on in silence?" Before Armand could respond, the servant passed with a tray of wine glasses, and Tudor delicatly retreived one for her self, and lifted it in salut to Armand, taking a sip of the rich liquid.

The Gascon cocked a brow to Tudor's statement.

"Mademoiselle, silence would be a terrible way to pass the evening. I was too busy being enveloped in your beauty which caused me to fall mute as reaction. Your grace and appearance have given me distress in thinking that I shall have to guard you like a priceless gem from the wolves that are hunting in our midst..."

He watched her take another sip from crystal vessel and for a fleet moment recalled what other actions the fullness of her lips were capable of. Shaking the thought from his mind, he reached to the next passing platter. Looking beyond their standing to the next chamber, Armand considered the music conjured forth by hidden players.

"Mademoiselle, perhaps if chance permits...You would do me the honour of escort to the ballroom. It would give me great pleasure to have your company in a waltz."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The constant hum of conversations accented by musical accompniment, faultered in the stregnth of power. A wave reaction in conjunct to the arrival of lone figure on far stairwell.

Standing in burgandy finery of exquisit render, Fernando Vasquez looked over the crowd gathered afore him and waited patiently for quiet. All eyes turned attention to the castillian as if they were under the demand of single hive mind. Fournier and Lamaire drew close to William and waited for the announcement to sound. The verbose that fell on waiting ears showed the qualities of aristocratic bearing and high learning. When finished, the Don's brother returned in the direction from which he had come, ascending the elegant curve of staircase to upper reaches.

Leaning forward to Captain William Brand's hearing, Jean-Micheale said one word...for only one was truly required.

"Soon..."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The Gascon cocked a brow to Tudor's statement.

"Mademoiselle, silence would be a terrible way to pass the evening. I was too busy being enveloped in your beauty which caused me to fall mute as reaction. Your grace and appearance have given me distress in thinking that I shall have to guard you like a priceless gem from the wolves that are hunting in our midst..."

He watched her take another sip from crystal vessel and for a fleet moment recalled what other actions the fullness of her lips were capable of. Shaking the thought from his mind, he reached to the next passing platter. Looking beyond their standing to the next chamber, Armand considered the music conjured forth by hidden players.

"Mademoiselle, perhaps if chance permits...You would do me the honour of escort to the ballroom. It would give me great pleasure to have your company in a waltz."

Tudor blushed prettily and gave an elegant half curtsy. "You flatter me sir." She smiled to herself, deciding to let his anticipation of trouble over her go unchallenged, silently affirming to herself her own prepaireness. She had paid a quick visit to the armoury before the group came ashore, to retrieve some of the more obscure objects she had turned in upon joining the crew, so that she now had not less then three blades secured about her person, and the smallest muff pistol secreted away in her pocket. Should any scuffle arise . . . She barred that train of thought, trying her best not to borrow trouble, on any account.

She could not help but be both amused and unsure of Armand's flowery words. Often she did not put much credence in flattery, but as embellished as his words were, she could not question the sincerity. Not with him being unable to keep his eyes off her. So she continued to blush.

She curtsied again at Armand's request. "I would love to. I has been so long since I waltzed." She let out a peel of girlish laughter, very unlike her normal giggle, but not all together unpleasing.

[William Brand]

ANOUNCEMENT

Do to prolonged events in the story and schedules in the real world, it is necessary to suspend the schedule of watches aboard the Watch Dog. For the time being, watches will be announced in the story as it progresses. The watch will be shown at the top of posts.

It is currently the 2nd Dog Watch (6:00-8:00 PM)

I would also like to take the time to thank all of our writers past, present and future for the many contributions to the story of the Watch Dog. The writing is superb and the plots and subplots are most entertaining.

Thank you all for your service to this ship.

-W.R.W.

[William Brand]

The room was awash with light and music. It was heady stuff. Wine, women and song as far as the eye could see, and William had always been able to see quite well.

He was not immune to the many dark eyes that peered over fans in his direction. He was not impervious to the stolen looks and half disguised smiles that floated his way. More than once he raised a single eyebrow in response to some subtle flirtation from across the room. Once or twice he raised a glass with the gentlest of nods. He would not have thought he could be so easily distracted from all of the thoughts of the day, but he was.

"If music be the food of love, play on..." he whispered to himself.

"I beg pardon?" queried a nearby Mister Lasseter.

"Oh, nothing." William returned.

[Diego Santana de la Vega]

I still had me boots on and in them was the coins fer buyin the three cannons I was here on the island for I woke just minutes afore and heard the door of me cell shut and lock and that is what woke me from my troubled slumber. Ifound a meal resting near the foot of me cot . Lucky I didn't kick it over in a dream. I heard my gated entrance begin to open so I hid to pounce and waited the cell door opened slowly. just adjacent to the prison doorI broke his neck and scooted out into the main yard of town. I walked out and into centerstage. I reversed and went back in. Trying to make for another exit when open came the back door and I heard shots fired i was spunaround from a sudden warmth and impact. I reached for my neck i was spurting blood i slumped and slid down the wall realizing the shot the seemed to miss my heart was just as lethal. My sight went white, I left my body (well it seemed as though my consciousness left my body) and I flew (not flew) hovered above myself as if watching an adventure hidden from sight by those taking its place in time I knew as I watched the armed guard come over and stand above me they were going to do nothing to stop the blood squirting from my neck and my sight diminished and gone I was.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Lamaire took post as overseer to the Watch Dog's members as Fournier excused himself briefly from proximity. In the half hour that trudged by, the presence of a young Spanish dandy had captured the Liuetenant's interest. With veiled observation, Dominique watched banter make the round amongst the other's entourage and the body language focused on the young girl in English midst. Never having cared for the

Dandy's ilk and reputation, Lamaire casually wove his way closer to observe the verbose taking place. What was gleened gained the Lietenant's disapproval and stepping into proximity for acknowledgement, he was met with a likeness of sneer, echoed readily by the other dandies in company.

" Monsieur Santiago, I could not but overhear in passing the content of your comments made in regard to the young mademoiselle. I do encourage you to beg her audience and offer apologies for such crass mannerisims."

"Ahhhh...If it is not our French friend playing gallant. The answer is no to your request. Have you some claim upon the English woman in question? It is well known that you have a reputation for taking any willing...and perhaps sometimes unwilling, females to your bed." The words dripped with venomous undertones.

Dominique glanced to where Miss Smith stood unawares of situation before retort.

"No...I cannot say as such. But, I have a distinct feeling that you have hard feelings about an incident involving your sister..." One brow raised slightly as barb was delivered. " Or is it that you have some envy in lacking the abilities to satisfy a lady due to certain...inadequicies?"

Santiago's features hieghtened in color as he spat, "You will curb your tongue in regard to my sister!"

Lamaire chortled to the other's reaction, then leaned close, " But Monsieur...It is I that must make confession in so much that though your sister was sweet...It was the rose that bore you into this world that was far more succulant to my taste."

The Spaniard turned a further shade of crimson and to the insult he would utter next, made tossing of goblet's content at his antoganist. Lamaire sidestepped quickly and it was but a sprinkle of wasted spirit that graced left boot.

Taking a sip from his own cognac company, Dominique tsked while shaking his head. Centering intense sights to the Dandy, he let quiet lie betwixt them briefly as the other dandies backed a pace.

"Monsieur...Not only have you laid insult to that fair English Rose, you have done so to me in your actions."

The Dandy squirmed slightly under the cold glare he faced.

"I see that you give no proffering of apology in either case and so be it." A smile played Lamaire's features, though it never travelled high enough to reach his eyes. " Than I shall meet you at dawn and we shall see if you are as big a disgrace to your family name as you are to the human race."

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Watching all that went on about them, Dorian nursed his glass for all it was worth, watching happenings from the corners of his eyes, yet paying full attention to Tempest... He also did well to keep all of his crew within his sights, not an easy task... Amidst the laughter and music there were some harsh words. Turning towards the direction from whence they came, he saw Leftenant Lamaire side step a glass' contents being thrown at him...::

Oh bloody.... Tempest, Cap'n, Tudor, Armand... I do believe we be in th' middle of a confrontation...

::He directed his Captain, Surgeon, Ms. Smith and Armand to the disturbance, watching as the group of heavily laced and embroidered men took a step away from the Leftenant and the one who tossed the contents of the glass... Though Mr. Lasseter could not make out the words, he easily saw the words, "Then I shall meet you at dawn..." come out of Lamaire's mouth..."

Hmmm... I do believe there gonna be a duel in th' morn....

Any thoughts Cap'n? Tempest? You two? Hmmm?

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Sipping from her goblet of wine, Tudor conversed easily amongst her comrades, enjoying the glamour and elegance of the evening. Armand was ever present at her arm.

She had noticed a few more then a few lacivious glances and lewd smirks aimed in her direction. She had just rolled her eyes ever so slightly, took another elegant sip from the crystal and brushed it off. It was nothing she hadn't dealt with before. But then a scuffle seemed to ensue.

Dorian was the first to draw attention to it."Oh bloody.... Tempest, Cap'n, Tudor, Armand... I do believe we be in th' middle of a confrontation... "

Tudor flicked her gaze to where Lamaire was confronting a group of spanish gentlemen. Hmmm... I do believe there gonna be a duel in th' morn....Any thoughts Cap'n? Tempest? You two? Hmmm?"

Without giving direct answer to the Quartermaster, Tudor looked over her shoulder to Armand, catching his eye. "Armand, dance with me." She said, barely above a whisper, but her eyes conveying most of the message. With an understanding nod and courtly bow, he escorted her onto the dance floor as the waltz began, directing the dances path, towards where the scuffle had ensued. Tudor's eyes flitting about, absorbing all the detail, catching a few words from witnesses to the events, muffled by the music as it was. The most informative bit came from two frumpy spanish dowadgers. "There she goes now, that English puta!" The first sneered as Tudor and Armand danced by, Tudor never giving them any indication that she was listening to their converstation. "She comes her, all dressed up, tempting our sons, causing trouble."

The other nodded her head conspiratorily. "Si. Poor Seniora Santiago will not sleep tonight for fear her son will die in the morning."

With a bit of a smirk Tudor looked up at Armand. "It seems to me that I have caused a bit of a stir." Armand looked down at her, am amused grin threatening his expression. Tudor bit her lip, a quick stab of concern filling her eyes. "Is Lamaire a good duelist do you know? I certainly hope . . ."

[William Brand]

2nd Dog Watch - La Margarita

McGinty, Smyth, Marchand, Whiting, and Godfrey had returned to the sleepy seaside town after a prolonged and failed search for the missing Monsignor. A man who loosely fit the clergyman's description had departed the island by boat many days before at the approximate time of the Captain's kidnapping. It was shortly confirmed by one other witness that a man of the cloth had passed through that other port to destinations unknown. Reassured that de la Vega had indeed booked a hasty passage beyond their reach, the small band had returned across the island.

Here they had stopped to procure refreshment and a meal ashore, confident that Mister Lasseter would not greatly mind their short, self appointed shore leave. An hour passed as they nursed drinks and cleaned mismatched plates. Songs and stories were woven together about previous deeds and bygone days. Godfrey was compelled to recite the most embarrassing of tales about a privy and a fire which had almost left him bald above and below when their laughter was interrupted by the small reports of several firearms. Since such sounds are common to a seaside port, they returned to their conversation only to be interrupted again by a nearby bell ringing the hour. This awakened them from their playful procrastination and they rose from the table to pay for their respective portions before tramping out into the night.

Once on the street, McGinty began an irreverent shanty which was soon picked up by all but Marchand who seemed not to know it. Still, he joined the chorus after a few passes. The song was reaching a fevered pitch, when it died off almost at once, beginning with Whiting and ending with a confused Smyth.

"That's no way to end..." he began, but as he followed their gaze he understood their silence at once.

Three men were exiting a building that appeared to be a jail or prison house. The first bore a lantern, which he used to light the path for the remaining two who carried a fourth man. It was this fourth man that drew their attention. It was Diego.

McGinty almost started forward at once, stopped only by Whiting who held him by the shirtsleeve. Whiting was shaking his head before McGinty could even utter a word and he coaxed them all back from the light of a nearby lamppost. They watched from the shadows between a bakery and a cooper's shop. The two men who bore the Monsignor tossed him unceremoniously into a waiting cart. It was Smyth that noted the cart's dimensions and the many earth moving implements piled about the prostrate clergyman.

"Tis a grave digg'r." he whispered under his breath.

"Dead..." was all that McGinty could add.

Too shocked to do anything but watch, they remained in the shadows of the street, exchanging understanding looks. After the cart driver was paid and underway, they slipped into the street again and followed in a tiny funerary procession. It was as solemn as it was lonely.

A dog was keening from some nearby alley.