The Watch Dog

[Pew]

The growing throng upon deck began to shout various forms of torture and injury to the bound man. Several crew members voted to throw the man overboard, more wanted to administer several lashings, ever more wanted to shoot him dead.

I had placed my pistols back in my sash and crossed my arms. With a loud exclamation, I laid my opinion on the deck:

"Mebbe Meg should decide."

The crew grew silent but several "ayes" could be heard. The word travelled around the circle until it reached to the Captain.

[William Brand]

William looked about the throng to see how the mob felt on the subject. Each of them agreed that Tawny's fate should fall to Meg, for her fate had been threatened and abused by Tawny. Even the lookouts aloft shouted their approval, Siren calling louder from above than any on the deck. It was soon obvious that the consent was unanimous and William could find no fault with the reasoning, but this, that Meg might need time to recover herself before being asked such a thing.

"Mister Pew, have this thing thrown in the cable tier." William said with no more regard for Tawny's existence then to see him off the weatherdecks.

"With pleasure, Cap'n." Mister Pew returned, and finding no amendment in the Captain's orders, he and the rest of the marines were unkind in their delivery of the prisoner, turned pirate. They dragged him only part way down the steps into the berth hold before letting gravity carry him the rest of the way. Tawny was addled by the fall, and his brains might have been dashed if he hadn't landed more upon his shoulder than his head. Then he was dragged through the berth deck to the cable tier and more than a few able seamen lay hands upon him.

When the door was finally shut, Tawny was grateful for the combined pain, for it allowed him the reprieve of unconsciousness.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Heron resumed her previous course, as ordered by Captain Lasseter. As Nigel worked the helm, shouts were heard from the Watch Dog and all aboard the Cutter directed their attention back to the Frigate. Shouts of “Aye!” and “Meg!” were heard on the wind. Dorian had his glass to his eye and recognized Captain Brand in the waist. He was looking about at the crew on deck, then gestured to Mister PEW before turning aft and heading below.

“Ah hmm… sounds as if Tawny might ‘ave made new friends… Not to worry, Cap’n’ll make ‘im feel at ‘ome…”

He grinned a wicked smile at Nigel, who smiled back then twitched his injured eye, the smile fading quickly.

“Nigel… yer eye still bothered? Right, yer relieved, head b’low an rest yer eye… I have th’ helm…”

Nigel made to protest, but the look Dorian gave him told him that resistance would be futile.

“Aye Captain…”

He head foreward and below, shielding his eyes from the sun.

[William Brand]

The remainder of the day passed with almost no incidents, although tongues wagged and threats were made often about dragging Tawny from his private "room" and teaching him to "dance" aloft. William made no effort to stem the tide of ill feelings. It gave the restless crew something to hate and somewhere to focus all of their losses and labors.

Since leaving La Desirade only two months previous, the crew had seen its share of disappointments. Not to say that their rewards were not soon to be great, but even great reward can wear upon a weary crew, so William let them mutter and plot with all of the empty imagination of a crew bent for port.

"Crew's in a foul mood, Cap'n." Mister Pew said from the taffrail later that night. "Not a one of 'em that wouldn't pay for the privilege to slit the man's throat with a boat hook."

"Aye, Mister Pew." William agreed, not looking up from the weathered tome he was reading by lamplight. "It will keep them hot enough to burn away the long hours left to port."

It was Mister Pew's turn to agree, though he had a wary look about him that belied other thoughts. Mister Pew was of a mind himself to go down to the cable tier and do to Tawny with a pike staff, what he had meant to do to Meg, though his anger, like Owen's, did not entirely stem from injustices to Meg. Mister Pew was more angry at his own marines, or more to the point, himself. This tawny interloper had stolen aboard ship and lived among their ship's stores for several days undetected. He had soiled the bilge of their home and their sanctuary with his filth. His odor had somehow lessened the whole ship and Mister Pew could not decide how much blame should be added upon his own head.

William glanced up to watch the Master-at-Arms in profile as he stewed in silence. William guessed at the man's thoughts and sent out bread upon the waters. "Was there something else, Mister Pew?"

Preston turned away from the taffrail and furrowed a brow more than once before speaking. "Cap'n. If I had been...if..."

"More diligent?" William offered, then shook his head.

"The bastard just slipped aboard!" Preston spat, thumping a fist on the rail.

William closed the book with his finger in the pages to hold his place. He tapped the spine of it with his other hand. "Lazarus was in the hold only yesterday. Just yesterday. He found no evidence of a stowaway then."

Pew nodded, for of course, it was a waste of time to be bothered about the past, especially with the rather favorable, if somewhat thin outcome. But life is as much about regret as it is acceptance.

"I went down to see if any of the pecans from Desirade remained aboard, and I found no man there while I searched." William added, for he too had argument enough to be upset with himself. "Take comfort in your choice of marines. Paul Mooney did good service, and I seem to recall you wanting Owen for a watchmen."

Pew said nothing.

"Perhaps I was wrong to say 'no' in regards to Mister Monahan." William added, then he amended himself. "I was wrong to say, 'no'."

Mister Pew smiled a little and dared an 'Aye, Cap'n' which made William smile too.

"You're a Captain of Marines now, Mister Pew. Take your victories with your bruises."

"Aye, Capn', but I would rather take my victories with a spot of Ale."

"As would I." William agreed, setting the book aside. And so they did, retiring to the galley to drink a little and spin stories of earlier victories and bruises.

The night passed in this fashion, with some drinking and some on watch. The business of the day was soon lost amidst music, conversation and the eventual snoring on the berth deck. Only Meg and Ajayi passed a long night, both in their distinct but altogether different pains.

July 26th became July 27th, with only the bell and the watch marking the alteration.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Cutter, Heron

Sand passed through the sandglass, it was turned through several watches again and again. Through the past day Dorian had turned his spyglass to the other ships in the small fleet, observing them for signs of disturbance. The crew of the Watch Dog seemed a bit more animated, which he chalked up to the recent happenings, the man Tawny finding himself aboard when he should have been on the Maastricht. He imagined some of the men wanting to act upon certain articles of the ship. He could think of several… article five, eight, and eleven. Each article had some bearing on what he knew had happened. Being a stowaway, he hid in the ship, had to survive by stealing food and whatnot, causing great disturbance as he had been caught, and who knew what else. The men on the Heron were animated as well, mainly with curiosity as to what had happened and what would happen to Tawny. Those who knew him spun tales about the man. Occasionally the Captain caught a handful of words, none of which painted a pretty picture of Tawny. Even during meals the men spent their time wondering aloud on the subject and nothing else. Dorian had retired to the wardroom through the mid day watches to check the charts, mark their position and do all the things necessary, then continued to give Mister Brisbane spells through his watches, taking the helm himself, or giving others a chance at the tiller.

It had progressed this way through the watches of the 26th and into the 27th of July. Dorian slept from the beginning of the second dogwatch til four bells of the first watch, then from five bells of the mid to four bells of the morning watch. The morning would reveal the island of Martinique off their starboard bow and he wanted to be on deck when the lookout sighted it. When he awoke, he ordered a pitcher of hot water from the galley. When Miss Moore delivered it he was stripped to his slops, causing her to blush and hastily retreat from the wardroom. The captain took his time washing and dressing his wounds along with the rest of his body. He dressed in his usual attire of shirt, slops, waistcoat, but wore his rope sandals instead of stockings and shoes, saving his last clean pair of stockings for when they made port. He armed himself with his sea service pistol and light cutlass this day, no need to remain heavily armed as now they were in relatively guarded waters. He came on deck at six bells of the morning watch, the grey dawn giving form of his surroundings. Mister Tucker noticed him first and wished him a good morning, to which Dorian replied in kind. Young Kalfkin was on the tiller, fighting slightly as the breeze freshened with the coming of the day. Taking his spot on the lee side of the Holy Ground, Dorian inhaled the clean air and almost sighed as he breathed out. This would indeed be a fine day…

27 July, 1704

Off the coast of Martinique

Six Bells of the Morning Watch

~Starboard Watch on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

The Starboard crew watched the darkest hours pass in hushed conversation. Ajiay and Meg, relieved of duty for their injuries from that day, were confined to the surgery with those still recovering from the battle at the taking of the Masstich. Murin had managed engaged the efforts of Patrick Hand, who was known to have skill with needle and thread well beyond simple sail mending, to create the French flag in her stead. "Won't take no time a'tal. Simple white flag like that." She was pleased that he had so easily agreed to assist her when the sun was a bit higher in the sky.

Relieved of duty she still reported with her watch and spent the hours serving coffee and conversation to those on deck. To her dismay much of the conversation focused on Meg and her would be attacker. "Tawny!" the men spat the name each time it came around. Murin longed to discuss the subject with one of the woman but none were working on her crew any longer. She had experienced the unwanted advances of lecherous men in her past. These fiends come from all stations of life, high and low. Murin swallowed hard at the thought of poor Meg faced with that vile ....thing that was thrown on the deck yesterday. He smelled of bilge and was crusty with all manner of filth! Poor Meg! Thank God Paul had gone when he had. She had heard that Meg had been stripped to the waist and her slops ripped open. Tawny's slops laid open as he laid on the deck. Murin shuddered. The men all discussed what they wanted to happen to Tawney. Most were waiting for him to "dance the hempen jig". Miss McDonough had her own thoughts on the subject that she shared with none. She had decided several years ago that any man who would try to force himself on an unwilling woman should have his balls removed. Castrate the ghoul and make him live, if he lives, with his lack of manhood! Geld him! She stood looking out at the day, towards where Martinique was to appear. On her face she wore a devious grin and her eyes danced with mischief. "What are you plotting?" Nathan inquired. "Not a ting, jus tinkin o'revenge!" She turned and left before he could question her further.

[William Brand]

July 27, 1704 - Off the coast of Martinique

William was awoken from sleep by Miss Tudor, who informed him that Martinque was sighted. She went about the business of laying out his ledger, charts and breakfast while he dressed in the quartergalley. Tudor brushed down the black coat that Kendra had made for him, careful to lay it out over the back of a chair at the ward room table.

"How seems the crew to you today, Miss Smith?" William inquired as he emerged from his room.

"Anxious, Captain."

William nodded, placing his newly acquired watch in his waistcoat pocket.

"I believe their revenge is now somewhat deluded by thoughts of port...with Martinique so close by." she added.

"Aye." William agreed, and was glad for it. "And how are you, Miss Smith?"

"Anxious." she said again, smiling. "I need clothing."

William agreed, sitting down at the table. The crew of the Watch Dog had gone long without new clothing. Having lost their first tailor at La Margarita, and having had no sufficient means to buy cloth and tailor made items there, they were now in great need. Half the sailors aboard had patched their slops and shirts more than once. William's own choices for clothing in the great cabin numbered too few.

"I should like some fresh shirts." William said. "There is nothing so fine as clean shirts and...well...clean food."

"We have apples, and Mister Gage still manages to spoil us I think." she pointed out.

"I know. And he does. He sets forth some excellent fare. Still...I'm missing the variety of fruit." William said and he tongued the back of his own teeth. They felt well rooted, but scurvy was so common, he was ever dreaming at night of losing his teeth. He suppressed a shudder then, for some of the dreams had been awful ones.

"Yessss...the variety of fruit." William said, echoing himself.

In answer to this, Tudor laid out the last of the unspoiled preserves from the larder. William smiled appreciatively and invited her to join him. He also asked her to fetch up the Master Gunner and the Master at Arms. She agreed at once and went off to bring the officers to the ward room.

Eight Bells of the Morning Watch

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

As legal procedures of the day would and could dictate, what once belonged to one now laid to rest a numbing blur of vin induced days and nights to the past, was now in firm possession of kindred. High aloft on fine sculptured terrace, the new Master of the Estate held quite and spirit laden reign to the ghosts of recent past. The tang of salt tinctured breeze stirred spyglass cradled on eloquated stand; rounded eye staring blankly at the bay beyond and the vessels that rocked gently on tropical water.

Below, drifting upward to half tuned hearing, the soft voice of recent Widow spoke instructions to servant’s query. The petit form that was seen upon Martinique's departure, now disrupted by slight convex. Snips and bits of conversation traversed the air, Dominique shifted almost restless to what transpired within feminine verbose.

Placing stray tress of unruly manner into check behind right ear, the new Master rose from carved chair; intentionally keeping eyes averted from Frigate that could be glimpsed if a degree to the right were centered on. But, Her visage reawakened remorse that was barely restrained as was....And Lamaire had found it best not to invite such hosts into his company.

Passing thru multi-paned doors of glazier perfection, he paused at writing desk, gazing upon commission papers that lay pinned by bottle t once holding grape sacrifice. Survey was made of well appointed boudoir, a scene of slightly askew bearing and decision was made to quit sanctuary for the lower floors.

It was only proper to check upon the current well-being of Madame Fournier. He found no pleasure in her young and spoiled ways, but regardless, she was the key to future legacy and Dominique would be steadfast in ensuring that the next generation would be encouraged to arrive safely into this turbulent world of chance....

[William Brand]

Miss Smith was gone but a short time from the Ward Room and in a short time she returned, followed by Misters Youngblood and Pew. They stepped into the somewhat darker room, what with all of the shattered windows now shuttered, and they sat down on either side of the table. Mister Pew was mindful to pull out Miss Smith's chair, which brought out a very genuine smile from the Steward.

They ate and discussed many matters, mostly as touching the subjects of protocol and security while ashore. It was agreed that wherever possible, someone who could speak French should accompany any group which went ashore, at least at first. Mister Pew spoke at length about the distribution of marines while ashore and the small arms lent out to the crew. Mister Youngblood was already prepared to have as many cannons fired as the Captain required for salute to the port.

All of them had occasion to talk about Fort Royal.

Like the officers, the crew was alive with talk of port. Not a single crew member was abed. Even those not on duty gathered at the rail, so that there was almost no one on the berth deck at all.

After a time, there was only Tawny left below, bound up in the cable tier. He tried many times to free himself by struggle, but he was thwarted utterly by several of Owen's knots. Owen, famous aboard ship for his rope tying, had spared no inch of rope as he bound up the hated fellow.

. . .

Two bells later, William was at the helm of the 'Dog, running along a course in the wake of the Heron which looked especially fine under the morning sun over Martinique. The Maastricht, wounded as she was, summed up the little navy by falling in behind the frigate.

Two bells of Forenoon Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the small fleet came ever closer to the port, Captain Lasseter found himself in the bow of the Heron, glass to his eye, scanning the fortifications and all the goings on in the bay. They had been sighted, probably at the break of dawn by the Fort’s lookouts, and no doubt they had spyglasses of greater clarity than what could be used aboard any ship. As the day wore on, more activity could be seen in the fort and the wharf of a military nature. Dorian had belayed his standing allowance of Mister Flint to drill the marines, lest they present an appearance of hostility, even though they flew the French colours. He looked back at the flags waving in the breeze, the stark white of France above the blue, red, and white of England. He smiled to himself at the display it made, the One flag over the other, showing that this ship had once been of the English navy and now was not, a prize captured in battle. Turning back to the activities in the bay, he saw a ship spread its canvas and begin to make way out of the harbor. It was a small two masted ship, most likely a corvette. She would surely head straight for them, and in due time so would any other armed vessels if it was proved they were enemies. A realization struck Dorian that he would most likely be the first officer to be addressed by the corvette in the next hour or so. It was time to dress the part he played. Time to dress as a captain was expected to. He collapsed his glass and headed aft.

“Mister Brisbane, I’ll be below for a short time… Please ‘ave Mister Smyth n’ O’Hara keep a sharp eye on th’ happenings of th’ ship headed out to us, an’ all else at the fort an’ wharf….”

“Aye Captain…”

With a single nod, Dorian headed below and to the wardroom. He disarmed himself and removed his waistcoat as well as his slops. He removed the one set of breeches he had, brushed them down and pulled them on. He took his coat from the hanger it was on and shook it out, hoping the wrinkles would not be too apparent. He hung it on the back of the chair and sat, picked up his last pair of clean stockings and worked them onto his feet. Once on he located his shoes, looked them over and put them on. He put his waistcoat on again and armed himself with his Mortuary sword and pistol, and finally put his coat on. He took his hat in hand and made his way topside, ready to greet whomever would be sent from the corvette.

Five bells of the Forenoon Watch

~Larboard Watch on Duty~

[William Brand]

July 27, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Off the coast of Martinique bound for Fort Royal

Miss McDonough reported to the base of the stairs at the quarterdeck. She stood there with Patrick Hand until William came forward to the rail to ask them their business. They presented two Bourbon Banners to the Captain, one large and one small, and he excepted it with praise to each of them, though as Patrick pointed out, they were little more than "white rectangles" and hardly worth mentioning.

Nevertheless, William thanked them both again and had Patrick fetch up the larger banner to the flagstaff. He ordered the other aloft.

Before long the two white ensigns unfurled and not a moment too soon, for they were now under the eyes of anyone ashore who may have wondered about the frigate's allegiance, and not an hour passed before the Maastricht was flying similar colors.

Six bells of the Forenoon Watch

~Larboard Watch on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin thanked Mister Hand again for his assistance. She had enjoyed talking with the lad as he did the work she felt guilty not doing. Patrick, who seemed to keep mostly to himself, became quite verbose with very little prompting from the girl. He was a wealth of knowledge and had a high intellect with a surprising abundance of creative ideas. This pleased the lass to no end and made the time spent in his company pass quickly.

After they had presented the French colors to the captain Murin felt free again to let her mind wander toward the waiting island. She mentally compiled a list of things that she wanted to purchase while ashore. Shirts, slops, perhaps a skirt, a chemise, oh! …she had yet to return the one she had borrowed from Tempest, she would have to find someone to launder it while ashore since she could not do so herself. The chemise and Chanaults linen kerchief! Murin glanced down at her bandage wrapped left hand again. Doctor Fitzgerald had Monsure Chanault dressed the wound this morning. The doctor inspected it herself and was pleased. The angry red that had been rimming the wound was now a healthy pink. The swelling was gone. Finally the girl had managed to not tear it open in the past three days. She reiterated her previous instructions and advised the girl to continue extending and flexing the fingers to keep the muscles strong and useful. The doctor again warned that if Miss McDonough did manage to tear open the wound once more she would be forced to immobilize it. Murin marveled at the fact that a few cactus spines could cause her so much aggravation.

Looking up at the wind filled sails Murin again began her list. Sail cloth. She needed to inspect the sails, see what condition they were in. What stores they had aboard. She had in the past day taken the time to inventory what was in the hold. They would need some sailcloth to replace what was used on the Heron and Maastricht. Waxed linen thread, perhaps a few new needles. She would have to talk to the captain. Once again she made her way to the bottom of the stairs below the holy ground and waited for the captain. She was contented to wait there watching him. He appeared comfortable in his command. It seemed a natural state for him. She looked at him admiring his stature, his dress, his carriage. She was startled when Nathan, now at her elbow, stated "Might help if you let your presence be known to the man." She turned to Nathan, a blush washed her face. Nathan looked upset about something. "Are you well lad?" she asked. "Just fine." He replied in a tone that indicated that he was anything but fine before he turned and walked briskly away.

[William Brand]

William watched as the island slowly filled the line of the horizon. Mant structures were already visible to the naked eye; ports and towns, fortresses and churches, war ships and merchant vessels.

Then he noted Miss McDonough in his periphery and came forward to the rail again.

"Miss McDonough."

[Silkie McDonough]

Her blush brightened as he addressed her.

"Capn' Brand sur, I'd b'addressin d'Quarter master ifin he were on d'ship buot, since he's otter responsibilities aboard d'Heron I tot it best t'talk t'yoo. I'been makin an inventory uv d'sail supplies in d'hold. Wit wot we used on s'flute n'cutter were short o'sail cloth. N'we should also make sure w've got tred n'perhaps a few new needles while ashore."

She held tight the rail of the stairs, knuckles white, her heart pounding in her chest.

[William Brand]

William nodded, sitting on the taffrail. "Aye, we most certainly shall."

He was quiet a moment, and he sat with his head bent forward a little. He seemed to be calculating something in his mind for a time before speaking again. "Much will depend on the retention or sale of the Heron, Miss McDonough. If we should keep the second ship until Trinidad, then we shall need spare for both her and the 'Dog. As for needles, palms and the like, we shall take what we may from the Maastricht before she is sold at auction. In this way we shall avoid any trivial costs best spent on small arms for the Heron."

He paused again and long enough that Murin fidgeted.

"I should like a list of all tools outside the possession of the crew. Needles, benchhooks, seam rubbers, fids, shears and so forth. You may add to these the tools from the Maastricht once we are at anchor. If there is anything lacking after, you may approach Captain Lasseter or myself on the subject again."

[Silkie McDonough]

"Aye Capn', tank ya"

She was about to turn and go but paused.

"A written list sur?"

"Please."

Again she paused as the Captain waited patiently.

"Please sur, wher m'I t'get paper n'quill"

He smiled, "Ask Miss Smith, she will be able to supply you with what you require."

"Tank ya sur" She knuckled her for head and turned away to find Miss Smith.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the corvette drew closer, Dorian again passed over it with his spyglass. All her gun ports were closed, yet a large bit of activity took place on her gun deck. As seven bells of the watch were struck, he called for all hands on deck. In very short order he had the waist full of his crew.

“As you can see, we are bein’ approached by an emissary ship from th’ port… Yer all ta be on best behavior as they’ll be sendin’ a lad o’er ta find what we’re all about. Mister Roche, I’ll need you by my side for translatory purposes, my french is not th’ best… Th’ rest o’ ye on duty go about yer duties… Those off duty, well, yer ta form up as a welcomin’ party, understand?”

There was a less than hearty ‘aye’ from the crowd, to which Dorian squinted at them. A second, ‘aye’ came forth with more gusto. The captain smiled.

“Excellent then… you ‘ave yer orders…”

He watched the men disperse, some to their duties, others to idle time. His eyes fell on Miss Moore, standing stock still look up at him.

“Aye Miss Moore? What is it?”

“Sir… would you like er, refreshments fer th’ party to come aboard?”

Dorian smiled at her, as a point of fact, he almost laughed.

“That would be a grande thing… if there be a bottle o’ French wine, that’ll do perfectly..”

“Aye-aye Sir!”

She was beaming as she made her way foreward to the hatch to the hold and disappeared below. Dorian smiled some more, then again peered through his glass at the corvette looming closer.

Just before Eight Bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Pew]

I made may to the bow of the Watch Dog and sent orders with one of the powder monkeys to find Mister Mooney. I watched him as he headed below and my gaze quickly caught sight of the new ensign being tossed about the flagstaff in the breeze.

"Well done Miss McDonough," I thought to myself.

Paul Mooney appeared at the ladder stairs with 4 satchels and made his way forward.

"We 'n top shape Mister Mooney," I stated to Paul moreso than questioning.

"Aye Mister Pew. I had th' lads below help make up some extra cartridges for the marines going ashore." Paul held the cases at his side and shook them slowly. He nodded in the direction of the Heron and the rapidly approching ship from the harbor, "welcoming party?" he asked.

I turned to catch sight of the corvette bearing down on the Heron. "Aye, gather th' marines on watch and those below deck. Less jus' make sure they 're friendly," I gave a quick wink to Paul and he nodded as he headed aft. "What say you Mister Lasseter," I asked quietly to the Captain of the Heron, "what say you..."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Not long after the first bell of the afternoon watch was struck, an officer of the French corvette shouted across the expanse of water. As expected he ordered them to heave to and prepare to have a boat sent over. As a point of fact, the longboat was already in the water, waiting to be occupied. Captain Lasseter gave the orders to drop canvas and put the Heron’s nose into the wind, bringing the cutter to a stop. He watched as the longboat filled with sailors, then two officers in silver trimmed coats and hats. The boat was rowed across the cables length of water, during that time the off duty crewmen assembled as a side board, the Boatswain and Coxswain stood at either side of the opening in the rail with their calls at the ready. All others stood in line with the them, making a corridor of bodies across the deck. Dorian and Maurice stood in the waist just forward of the quarterdeck, both with their hands folded behind their backs. As soon as the top of the head of the first officer came even with the deck, Brisbane and Tucker let loose with the shrill calls. They did a good job of keeping it going until both officers made the deck, which came none too soon for Tucker, who gasped in a deep breath. Captain Lasseter doffed his hat and bowed, the two Frenchmen did the same.

“Bonjour Monsieur’s… Welcome aboard th’ Heron… I am Captain Lasseter, recent Quartermaster of the Privateer, Watch Dog…”

He gestured to the frigate coming towards them from seaward. The two officers looked slightly perplexed, so Dorian nodded to Mister Roche, who did a fine job translating his English into French. The officers relaxed a touch, then the one began a long speech, which ended in several questions. Maurice repeated the greetings and introductions in English, more bowing was done. The questions were asked and answered to their satisfaction. Instructions were given for entering the port and saluting the fort. With good timing Miss Moore appeared with an almost matched set of four goblets and a bottle of wine which was offered and accepted. A toast was made to their most Catholic Majesties of France which was heartily drunk to by the Frenchmen. Soon they were off, and would escort the ‘fleet’ into port once all three ships had been visited by the Navy officers. Soon the longboat was pulling for the Watch Dog. As they reached the mid point Dorian spoke.

“I do believe we passed muster… A job well done one an’ all…”

Two Bells of the Afternoon Watch

~Starboard Watch on Duty~

[William Brand]

July 27, 1704 - Just off the coast of Martinique.

Aboard the Watch Dog

"Ahoy the quarterdeck!" both lookouts almost chorused at once. "Longboat on approach off the starboard bow!"

"Very good!" William returned from the holy ground, then turned to the coxswain. "Steady as she goes, Mister Warren. Miss Smith! Call the Masters aft, if you please."

The Ship's Steward went forward and fetched the Master-at-Arms and Master Gunner. They reported and William sent them forward again to arrange the able seamen and marines in formations, with the marines together armed at attention in the waist and a gun captain at attention alongside each of the cannon on the starboard side. The rest of the men and women remained at their stations below and aloft while the longboat and the Watch Dog made up the diminishing distance between them.

Orders went up to haul in every bent sail and the Watch Dog drifted forward only by momentum until it almost halted completely, and before long additional orders rang out to draw in the longboat.

William was satisfied that all was well and he remembered almost too late that his French was limited in matters of formality. With Roche aboard the Heron and Marchande, the Maastricht, William called up Pascal and Cobus Casteel. He had just enough time to ask each man to be at the ready to translate, with Pascal acting as the senior translator, and Casteel standing hard by, when the French came over the rail.

William stepped forward at once, removing his hat and tucking it beneath his arm. "Bonjour messieurs, je m'appelle...William Brand, Capitaine du Chien de Garde. Mon...traducteur...Pascal." William said, gesturing to the able seaman.

Pascal greeted the men and took over at once. What followed was a polite and careful exchange of questions and answers. The Frenchmen asked him several questions regarding the business of the Watch Dog, the Heron and the crippled Maastricht that was edging Eastward towards them from beyond. William explained that they were come from La Margarita and La Blanquilla, bound for Fort Royal to sell prizes at auction to the French. He offered to show cause with the proper papers and documents, but the Frenchmen, satisfied that such business would be settled ashore, welcomed Captain Brand without the need for marques or letters.

Still, other questions followed, and when William heard the word 'prisonniers' pass between the men and Pascal, he began nodding before the bale seaman could translate.

"Aye. The Dutch and English prisoners are being held aboard the Dutch fluyt, under the supervision of Mister Jacob Badger, who serves as Captain of the Maastricht for this voyage." William began, and then went on to explain the numbers of the English and Dutch held prisoner in the fluyt's holds. He further explained that the Dutch and the English had suffered significant losses, and that their dead, already buried at sea, were not numbered among the prisoners. He made no mention of his recruits and they made no inquiry.

Miss Smith arrived in a fashion that was graceful, surprising and inviting, and William was obliged and pleased to introduce her. The Doctor was also introduced and the two men seemed disarmed by the women of the frigate. Tudor smiled warmly at the ship's guests and offered the men a glass of the Watch Dog's finer stock, which they excepted graciously. Toasts and formalities passed between all of them, and William was pleased to hear so much cordial French. It bode well for their stay.

Then, when all was finished, they offered Captain Brand some simple instruction and begged his leave to investigate the Maastricht for confirmation. William gave his leave and permission to search the fluyt at their discretion.

The Frenchmen departed as carefully as they had come.

Down in the darkness, unwatched in the enclosure of the cable tier, the wounded stowaway had finally slipped one of Owen's unfailing knots.

[Pew]

The French Officers were well hemmed and polished. They stood ramrod straight yet were very calm throughout the exchange with the Captain. As they departed, many of the crew began to prepare the Watch Dog for arrival into port.

Paul and Manus stood near me. I spoke with them briefly about our watch and what was to transpire upon arrival at Martinique.

"Captain 'as made the Frenchies happy. So wit' Siren 'n th' main top, I'd like t' 'ave you two and Mister Morrell make a sweep o' th' ship 'ere. No unsavories lingerin' about again, aye?"

Both men nodded. I then cupped my hands and turned to the fore top, "Mister Morrell, a moment sah."

Louis scrambled down the rigging and joined the other two marines. "Aye, sah?"

"Mister Morrell, I'd like for you gentlemen t' secure th' Watch Dog b'low. Wit' Tawny creepin' about b'fore, I dinnot want another problem t' arise. Paul, check on Tawny 'n th' cable tier first ' work your way b'low. Manus, take Louis and begin 'n th' berth deck then work your way topside." All three men nodded and hurried below deck.

In the main top, Siren watched the goings on in the waist. I snugged the pistols in my belt and began the climb aloft.

[William Brand]

Paul made is way below as instructed. He approached the cable tier while Manus and Louis went down the berth deck behind him, searching the spaces as they went.

"Have a care there." Manus called out to Paul just before he ran the bolt which secured the cable tier forward. Paul nodded, for he was not one to take Tawny lightly, having seen that smile in the dark once before.

Inside, he found the prisoner as they had left him, laid over on his side and bound hand and foot. Owen had lashed the man like a bound cask and for all intents and purposes, the man looked bound still. Paul favored him with a swift kick and Tawny answered with a satisfying groan.

"And how do ye find your room...Tawny?" Paul asked with a mock politeness, crouching down as he did so, and he found that he did not like to say the prisoners name aloud. It had become as unfavorable as the man himself, and Paul didn't think he would trust anyone by that name thereafter. Though in truth, he had never known anyone by that name before. "Is it to your liking? Your room? I understand ye find the dark more favorable."

Tawny said nothing and Paul left him to his own thoughts and the darkness.

With Paul gone, Tawny tested his limited freedom once more. He had slipped his left hand free of the bindings, but only his left. With the arm still secured he could do little but flex his fingers and turn his wrist this way and that.

"It's enough, Tawny." he said to himself, reassuringly. "Time and tide, Tawny. Time and tide."

[Black Syren]

Siren watched as Louis was called down and watched as Mr. Pew clambered up before turning her gaze to the Isle and could not wait to reach land and go for a swim. Excitement lit her turquoise gaze from within and she smiled wide. "Now we have reached the Isle, How long shall we stay and what will happen to the stow a away?" she asked brushing her braid back over her shoulder as she questioned Pew.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Once the corvettes’ longboat had visited all three ships, they made the long pull back to their mother ship and soon were back on deck.

“Mister Brisbane, Mister Tucker… Prepare ta make sail inta port Royal! Mister Johnson, prepare th’ guns fer th’ salute! Young Godfrey, I’ll ‘ave ye dip th’ colours after th’ guns ‘r fired…”

The men took to the orders given with a quick step, not so much because they were given, but because once in port they would be heading ashore with a full coin pouch to fritter away however they wished on whatever they wished. The men murmured as they worked, this time not about the stirrings on the Watch Dog, but of what lie ahead in the port town of Fort Royal. Even captain Lasseter had his mind on what was to be once the anchor was dropped. Although his mind was on more than carnal or material things that the crew were about. He had facts and figures on what was needed on the Watch Dog, what they might get for the sale of the Maastricht and the Heron, if both were to be sold in this port. There was the thought of keeping the Heron, and if they did, they would need to bring on more crew to make up for what was lacking on both, even with the newly added men from the Dutch and English prizes. He was also thankful they didn’t run into other possible prizes on their way as they would only have been able to fight a very short battle as their supply of shot was extremely low. But that was their supply of round shot, they had a similar supply of case and other type aboard as well. His mind went over other supplies that needed replenished, such as lines, cables, sails, sailcloth, foodstores… He was almost taken unawares when the fort opened fire with its salute, and when they cannonfire ceased he ordered the return of the salute, the dipping of the colours, and he even doffed his hat as well.

“Ready th’ best bower!”

“Ready the best bower, aye!”

Soon they came to an open area of calm water near where their were other ships of war. The signal was made, anchors dropped into the depths and sails lowered, the Heron came to rest. Dorian turned and watched as the Watch Dog did a similar feat in good order, then the Maastricht not as well, but due to her jury rigged foremast it was not so graceful. Once all three ships seemed calmed of activity, he had the jollywatt lowered and a crew picked to take him across to the Watch Dog to receive what orders Captain William Brand had need to be carried out.

Seven Bells of the Afternoon Watch

At port, Fort Royal, Martinique

[Silkie McDonough]

After the French inspection was done Miss McDonough headed below. She secured a lantern with a full candle and with paper, ink and quill in hand headed to the hold to make the captains requested inventory. The noise of chatter faded behind her. Below deck the quiet filled the space with only the slow creaking of the ship and water splashing in the bilge.

Ducking low she quickly made her way to the trunk that contained the sail making supplies. Murin laid the paper, ink and quill on the lid of the next trunk, hung the lantern on the nearest peg and lifted the lid of the trunk she intended to inventory. Carefully she opened the ink and set it beside the paper and dipped the quill. Withdrawing the quill from the ink pot. She then started her list. She scrunched her face as the a drop splattered the corner of the paper. The quill was set to paper and ink flowed far too quickly and another large splotch of ink was formed at the start of the letter, she sighed. Dragging the quill from that spot she formed, in a very shaky and unpracticed hand, the word "Benchhooks". The next line was written without dipping the quill again, "Fids". She continued "Seam Rub..." the quill was void of ink. She returned it to the well, this time remembering to touch the tip lightly to the side before returning it to the paper. To her delight no drop spilled from the quill and only a slight blotch of ink formed where she continued the word "...ber". Thus she continued until the list was completed, each word improving with practice.

As she finished the last word and set the quill down to begin the count something aside from the noise of the ship caught her ear. Startled she sat still straining to find it again. Her hand slowly moved to the hilt of her knife and she waited. Again the noise came, a soft thump behind her. She turned quickly drawing the knife. Her heart racing she spied it's source. A short hair tortoise shell cat blinked back at her, it's eyes glowing in the candle light. The two starred at each other for a moment then Murin breathed a sigh. With Megs recent experience fresh in her mind she had feared the worst. She knew Tawny was locked up and that the ship was being inspected for the possibility of any more trouble but her fears were still very real. She slid the knife back into it's sheath as the cat came forward and rubbed against her bare calf.

Reaching down she quietly said, "Ya moust b'Pandora." the feline pushed against her leg as she scratched behind its ears, its purr sounded loud in the quiet of the hold. For a moment they sat there enjoying each others company until something caught the attention of the feline. She stood, frozen for a moment her purring stopped. Murin also looked to see the unheard sound that Pandora focused on but saw or heard nothing. In a moment the cat was gone as suddenly as she had appeared and Murin returned to her work.

She made a mark for each item she counted. Although she knew how to write her letters she was vague on her numbers. Something she planned soon to remedy. After all, most of the people on this ship could read or write and she was sure someone would be willing to assist her.

Pandora, or one of the other ships cats continued to pad around the hold, first here then there. Murin still had an uneasy feeling but kept reminding herself "We have the situation in hand, the crew is about."