Pyrates of the West Coast

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

"Tu agre'able?"

A grin appeared and eyelids cracked a slight, "Oui extremement, merci."

Fournier chuckled softly and focused on the horizon and familiar shape just afore it. He was becoming restless in the core of soul, it was to be expected and always arrived with clockwork timing in regard to being in port overlong. Placing right hand to foremast surface with affectionate caress, the amber sights searched beyond the Watch Dog's silhouette and the draw of open water's nagged with further intensity.

Lamaire sat upright and stretched to release muscle kink that had formed with too long dormant posturing. Glancing to the direction of the Captain's held attention, he yawned then stood upright. Tilting chin toward yon frigate indicating subject matter, Dominique spoke in semi-groggy manner.

"I assume that you heard?"

"Oui..."

"Things went well with Don Vasquez?" he fished.

"Oui. The original requests presented have been accommodated and the supplies shall be arriving shortly for transfer to Capitaine Brand's vessel. Then it is just a matter of finishing with whatever refitting issues need tending."

A comfortable silence lay between them for the shot passing of minutes. When it was broken, the Lieutenant obscurly queried upon intentions of time frame for leaving current port.

" Demain?"

The meaning was not lost on kindered thought process...

"Non....Apres demain. Maree soir."

[William Brand]

As the Quartermaster continued the auction William went to stand near Mister Warren at the wheelhouse. Jim stood there with his usual smile, which had a way of turning up his moustache and William found it difficult to imagine him angry. The man was always pleasant and he wondered, not for the first time, if this good humor was balanced by an equally bad temper best left unawakened.

Mister Warren gave him a nod.

"Mister Warren. We'll be sailing to La Blanquilla soon and I mean to make a thorough survey of the water there. I shall rely heavy upon your skills as a coxswain then while we make an examination of that island' s reefs and channels."

"Aye, Captain." he said with his customary smile.

"With any luck, we shall make a permanent sanctuary there from which to foray from."

"A...kennel."

William smiled at this. "Aye, Mister Warren. A pied-à-terre. A den."

"Of wolves or thieves, Captain?"

"Yes."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::It took some prompting, but finally bids were made on the knives.... they went for five crowns to Mr. Thatcher who commented that they'd be good for whittling and other small work... ::

Aright lads... time ta head back inta port... takin' on more stores then we be off.....

::As the crew dispersed to their duties, Mr. Lasseter headed over to the Captain, handing him the final amount of specie to add to the take from the auction...::

There ye be Cap'n.... no' bad.... Ciaran there surprized me... wonder where 'e's been hidin' all tha' coin... *chuckle*

Wi' yer permission, I'll be headin' below ta change outta m'fineries... back ta some more comfortable togs...

[William Brand]

"Thank you, Mister Warren. Please see to some sustenance for yourself as well. Then we shall review those best able to assist in the loading and provisioning ashore. With this unexpected interruption and loss, our watches are all confused."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"I shall be in the Ward Room. Visit me there when you are prepared and we shall review the lists and necessities of the ship."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Once the Captain had taken his leave, Mr. Lasseter looked about the deck, happy with the goings on... turning to Mr. Badger he handed over the mastery of the ship to him so he could head below...

Once below he headed to his quarters, noting Captain William stepping into his own sleeping cabin. He hesitated, thinking he might ask particulars of the captain, instead he continued on his original course and shut his cabin door... He changed out of the fancy attire, brushed it all down and hung the clothes carefully on simple hangers. He then dressed in his usual suit of clothes, minus the stockings and shoes. Instead he pulled his old rope sandals out and wore them... He headed back topside and took command again. Leaning back on the taffrail he tried to relax, but the days' events did not lend well to that..::.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

The legnth of mohogany table was laid with simple fare to be shared by the trio now at its' far end. Conversation was casual for the most part and the question that tugged at the mental halls of younger Vasquez had not been breeched as of yet. Fournier, always the accommodating host, poured a fresh round from Mediera decanter and fixed his Castillian guest with an expression of hinted amusement. He was well aware that the Don's brother was inwardly agitated by the Anglais vessel not being readily viewed in harbour surround. For the past hour, no referance had been made to the vessel in question and the two Frenchmen had played a secretive game of slying knowing glances to one another as if silently laying wagers as to how long their companion could go on without cracking.

An hour became an hour and a half, when finally while reaching for a small group of proffered grapes, the Castillian spoke with an air of laisses-faire.

"I will only assume that Capitaine Hollande and his officers were pleased with the evenings festivities?"

The slying of French glances fleeted then Fournier offered simply," Oui."

Lamaire concentrated on the table surface immediately afore him, suppressing the chuckle that begged to roll forth. Vasquez plucked a grape from laden group, brow knitting in response to the lack of information.

Fournier sipped from crystal vessel and offered no more, quite content to see how long this mild game of cat and mouse would play out...

[William Brand]

William did not dress down much more than removing his coat and baldric. He set them aside, careful to fold the coat over the back of the chair in his room before stepping into the wider space of the Ward Room. Here he placed the logbooks and ledgers of the Watch Dog and began perusing them in preparation for their resupply. He scribbled a dozen or so equations based on the charts of the region, calculating what supplies he might need most for an equal number of forays into the open sea. However, the first new notation he made in the ledger itself reflected the coin gathered from the sale of arms before the mast.

Then, a quiet knock came at the door followed by an immediate entrance. Miss Smith, exercising her prerogative as Ship's Steward, entered with a laden tray and William's appetite was awakened at once by marmalade, scones and hot coffee.

"Ah, Miss Smith. I had all but forgotten..."

"...to eat?" she finished. "Yes I know, Captain."

She gave him a reproachful look mingled with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth turned up. "I am rebuked." William said in a mock surprise.

"Nay." she returned, laying out the food over the ledgers, mindful to cover them completely with the tray. "It would be mutinous to rebuke one's Captain."

She took the quill from his hand and replaced it with a fork. He smiled a little at this no nonsense approach to make him eat. He often waved the tray aside until he was finished with his work, but she was having none of that now. She tucked a napkin in his collar and stepped back with an expression that said, 'Well? Do you plan to simply watch the food?'.

He took a healthy bite and nodded appreciatively and this seemed to satisfy her.

"Will there be anything else, Captain?"

"Aye. Please ask the cook to prepare some pork or beef to add to this fine fare if you please and ask Mister Lasseter to join me here."

"Aye, Captain."

She was almost out the door when he added, "Thank you, Tudor."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Under the watchful command of the QuarterMaster, the crew of the WatchDog slowly brought their ship back into the bay, and over to the quay next to Le Requiem... Instead of dropping anchor, lines were thrown to the dock and made fast, then the crew used the capstan's to warp the ship against the warf. Once all had settled, Mr. Lasseter had spoken to the harbor master and had been given directions to the chandelers of Don Vasquez'... Soon crewmembers would be ashore bringing supplies back to the ship... Mr. Lasseter sent word to the captain that all was being prepaired for stowing down and making everthing weatherly for the voyage to their next destination... He watched as some of the lads unbattened the hatches to the hold and rigged tackle for swaying the supplies aboard and into the hold... Walking to the binnnacle, he removed the familiar logbooks, paged through them rereading several sections, then he pulled the smal inkwell and pen out from it's nitche, unstoppered the ink and began to write some notes on a fresh page...::

*muttering to himself*

Hmmm... new mains'l would be grande... hell all new sails would... lines n' cables... spare spars n' upper masts... replace wot we used afore...

::As he was writing the Captain's Steward, Ms. Smith approached and cleared her throat. This caused him to pause in his work and look her way...::

Ah... Ms. Smith... Are ye in need o' somethin'?

::She smiled and curtsied...::

"Aye... Captain would like to see you in th' wardroom..."

::Mr. Lasseter straightened and slowly closed the logbook...::

I see.... Thankee Ms. Smith...

Mr. Badger... you have th' deck...

::He put the logbook away, put the stopped back in the inkpot and stowed it and the pen away as well, then turned and headed below... through the passageway he went til he found himself infront of the door to the wardroom. Knocking thrice he then entered...::

Cap'n... Ye wish ta see me?

[William Brand]

"Aye, Dorian. Come in." he motioned to the table spread with scones, ledgers, coffee, charts and marmalade. "Have you eaten? Miss Smith is laying siege to the Ward Room and I am likely to be strung up if I don't eat all that you see before me. Not that I mind the fare. Mister Gage is proving an apt man about the galley."

[Captain Jacob Badger]

whoa!!.........shit load t' catch up on!!......errr.....Aye Mr lasseter.......the deck aye.....

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The long boat nudged and bumped the swoolen 'wale of the Watch Dog's starboard side. Antoine was unsure as to accessibility to the vessel from the legnth of private quay and decided that by way of water was a better choice. Oars were shipped, the smaller craft steadied and the one pierce of blue eye looked intently to the deck above to be met by the curious expression of seaman leaning over the lofty rail.

Antoine-Pierre Grandjean offered friendly smile to the onlooker, "Bonjour, monsieur..."

The other nodded acknowledgement and in the inner thinkings of the Frechman, there was hope that communication would be breeched without having to struggle with the Anglais manner in doing so.

"Pardon, monsieur...Je passer voir qn..." The other's brow pinched in response and Antoine's hopes were dashed. Anglais was never his forte' and over the years of lacking success in grasping its' concepts, his patience for its' usage was nil on a kind day. Drifting down from above came a garbled attempt of confession...The confression clear in butchered state that Francais was not an option.

Antoine emitted heavy exhalation of exasperated qualities and glanced to those in small vessel company. The six gave various reactions to situation at hand, shrugs; shakes of head; mumbled verbose...For of their present number, their leader had the best grasp of the language in question.

Resetting his features to friendly tincture, Antoine recentered his attention to the other with a cock of brow in query and he sallied another attempt.

"Monsieur...Avez-vous fait la connaissace Lieutenant Armand-Gabriel D'esnambuc?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

:: Dorian made his way to the ward room table, pulled a chair over and sat at one end... He smiled as the sweet smells of the food wafted his way... He nodded appreciatively...::

Thank ye, Will... I havn't had a proper meal this day... an' by th' looks o' wot's laid here, I do believe yer right... Mr. Gage is a fine hand...

I would guess yer layin' out wot course we's gonna be takin' once 'r hold is full o' supplies... I shoulda brought th' logbook wi' me...

[William Brand]

"No. I am making an accounting of our overall needs for La Blanquilla. I would like to build a cistern there, if ever we should be forced to remain on the island for long repairs to the Watch Dog. I never want to be short of fresh water if it can be helped. Also, I should like to bring livestock and perhaps fruit trees to that place. With luck, and a considerable amount of work, I think we should be relatively self sufficient in the near future."

William paused to refresh his coffee.

"One never knows who one's enemies and friends might be from season to season."

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Mr. Lasseter mulled over what the Captain had said, what he had planned... he slowly nodded in agreement...::

Aye.... would be a goode thing ta have a place set right to hole up in... Cistern'll be a bit o' work... bit o' time ta make right.... all else will be little strain...

::He helped himself to a scone and a mug of coffee...::

I been also seein' ta wot supplies th' ship needs... an' I s'pose I should add more t'the list... supplies ta keep on 'r isle...

Have we a goode chart o' th' isle?

[William Brand]

"I expect charts from the Don's estate any time now, though I shall do all my own soundings and charts when we arrive. I want them to be as accurate as possible. I will not lose the Watch dog or any other boat to an exaggeration or error on the part of less interested cartographers."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Indeed... Charts from th' Don.... I agree we should do 'r own soundin's an make 'r own charts... I havn't the skill fer it, but the more accurate, th' better...

Mayhaps we should also fortify th' most defendable area o' th' Isle.... possibly even build a dock... but, that may take more resources than wot we 'ave at 'r disposal...

[William Brand]

"Before we leave port and the influence of the Don's good graces, I should like to procure three new twelve pounders for the quarterdeck. this will allow us four twelves with a nine pounder on either side. We can take the two remaining nines forward to the forecastle for use as bowchasers. I know there is not much room for guns at the stem, but I trust our carpenter and blacksmith to work their crafts to our advantage there. We may not have another opportunity so soon to acquire additional fire power."

"Aye, Cap'n. Though I'd prefer English guns."

"As would I."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor reapeared in the ward room bearing a fresh pot of coffee and the tray of requested food, fresh and steaming from the galley. "Here's the extra food, sirs . . ." She said, setting down the food in best serving wench fashion. She then paused. "Only three extra guns, Captain? I would think at least four. And I agree, English are better." She couldn't resist putting her two pence in about the guns.

[Pew]

::Knocking on the frame to the door way into the Ward Room, I seem to have disrupted the conversation:

"Sahs. I meant ta discuss wit' Mr. Lasseter prior but wit' taday's 'appening's," my voice trailed off and the Captain beckoned me inward.

"Capt'n, Mr. Lasseter, when I was go'in o'er the Ships log, I found this 'ere parchment, and wondered if'n it be needed while we be restockin' the ship . . . "

I opened the logbook to the place when I had found the parchment. Gently unfolding the worn edges I show it to both the Captain and Mr. Lasseter.

[Dorian Lasseter]

::Looking at the page Mr. Pew offered Dorian nodded...::

Very goode, Mr. Pew.... that was th' original list o' ships supplies when we took posession o' her.... where'd ye find it?

[Pew]

"'Twas in Jack's ole Armoury log he had in his sea chest. Inked looked fairly new so's I thought it ta be important, but not wit me book o'guns . ."

[William Brand]

"Thank you, Mister Pew. We shall compare it against the records to see what has been sold, used or unrecorded since then, though I'll wager we've not lost so much as a button since Mister Lasseter took charge of the books. I've seen more mistakes in the Bible than his ledgers."

Mister Lasseter tried not to laugh and only managed to choke a little, almost ruining his working clothes with coffee.

"Mister Pew, I wonder if you would fetch Mister Youngblood to the Ward Room. I should like to send you and him ashore to procure additional cannon for the quarterdeck. No doubt I shall be required to send a formal request by letter, but I shall have that ready soon enough."

[Pew]

"Right away sah!"

[William Brand]

With Mister Pew's departure, the Captain began dictating a long letter to the Don filled with praise and prose, thanking him for his generosity. He added the request for the cannons almost as a footnote. An afterthought. It was his way of completely understating the significance of such a request. Several times, Miss Smith looked up from her quill to give him a questioning look at his choice of words, but William was confident in his carefully crafted phrases, and Miss Smith's handwriting proved to be a confident and delicate script. Between William's words and her hand it presented a very official looking document. She even provided a significant space for him to affix the broad strokes of his signature. After it was folded and sealed with dark wax, he returned it to her.

"The Don will not recognize either Youngblood or Pew. With Jack gone, I shall have to send someone familiar to that court ashore so I should like you, Miss Smith, to accompany them in this matter."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Claude Marchande happened upon the confussion betwixt the launch and crewmate; quickly resolving to step in to alleviate further angst. Such action had met gratitude on behalf of both parties and Mister Fitch made quick to dissipate from where he was sure that some form of insult had interwoven into filigreed verbose. Marchande made no effort to conceal amusement at the hasty departure and after a few minutes passing, light was brought to the quandry.

************************************************************

Quick to sidestep the controlled chaos taking place on weatherdeck surface, Armand followed in Marchande's wake to the starboard rail. His "duty" done, Claude dismissed himself to tend cargo being brought across. The Gascon and aquaintance conversed momentarily before agreeing to meet just abaft the frigate where the launch could be tied off. The smaller craft secured, the two Frenchmen stood the quay's surface just to the side of where wagons were lined up for transfer of goods to the Watch Dog's inner depths.

Boisterous banter played back and forth for a space of time, but was short lived as the former Lancier took on a more serious vissage.

Antoine seemed uncomfortable in his manner and looked down the legnth of quay briefly before fixing the brilliant blue hue of sight on his comrade.

J'ai une triste nouvelle a' vous annoncer, mon ami..."