The Watch Dog

[Silkie McDonough]

Nathan wound his way through the streets of Cul De Sac Royal. Perhaps he would find Bill Flint, he was still dumbfounded by Billy's behavior earlier. Murin had been so shaken that she almost took Nathan's arm ...almost. Bill had a tomahawk, not a bastardized boarding axe like he had thrown at Tawney. Last time that was seen it had been aimed at the demon Tawny in the dark waters just off the Dog. What made Billy so angry? That tomahawk looked very much like another Nathan had seen. One that belonged to a Mohawk chief he and Bill both respected. It couldn't be his could it? How did Bill come by a tomahawk here? Nathan decided to look for Bill. The man is part of the Starboard watch, he would be ashore. Nathan began checking all the pubs.

A few hours and a few drinks with others of the crew later he had still not found his best mate and decided to redirect his energies until a later time. He found a decent room for the night,washed himself in the basin provided, changed to his fresher clothing and paid to have his current set laundered. Once dressed he brushed his clean hair and tied it at the base of his neck. whisked away any dust from his hat and directed his footsteps back to "Le Chateau Anse"

...

Miss McDonough reveled in the attentions paid to her by Mister Wenge. His smile revealed so much to the lass, his eyes clearly focused on her. She could not help but be lifted by such obvious admiration. She nearly danced as the three walked the streets to the inn. Captain Brand's words "I cannot guarantee that every day will be an adventure, but this life comes with the promise of freedom fraught with an enlightening education of life in all of its bounties." rang in the lasses ear. Not since the death of her dear Ayden had she dreamed that she would have opportunities like this. This was what they had fought for. If only this freedom had been granted her with her love by her side.

She looked up at Alder at her elbow, "I have never heard Asopes Fabels det I know uv."

"They are wonderful tales with moral lessons" Jenny interjected

The three carried on the light conversation until Murin stopped short. She stood transfixed starring at a blossoming plant in a window box. "Det's in yer boook! Just as you poot it doun!" the lass stepped forward and breathed in its scent. Her smile from ear to ear, "I ad imagined it a pale pink but dis, dis is so bright! So brilliant. Es'der a name fer it?"

[Alder]

Es'der a name fer it?"

“Indeed Lass, there is” he said rifling through the genus and species names that tumbled into the forefront of his mind. “I believe this to be Pink Heliotrope” Heliotropum arboresccens. Helios was the Greek god of the sun." he continued

"The flower so named because it’s face tracks the sun's path across the sky from east to west.” Alder pointed in the general direction of travel but stopped midway becoming uncomfortably self-conscious of his grand display.

The professorial tone that spilled from his lips coupled with his realization of the bewildered but smitten gaze up at him, made Alder feel less of a botanical aficionado than a bumbling gascon.

Without another word, without another thought, he plucked a cluster of the tiny blossoms from its greenery and neatly tucked it past the gentle curve of Murin’s ear. Alder was delighted that she did not recoil at his sudden advancement, but instead stood, firmly rooted as his hand met skin. There was in that instant a subtle but innate tremor, ascribable to both. Alder stood, likewise fixed; beguiled by this winsome creature.

“Would that Aesop wrote of flowers and not of beasts, this spray would be humbled to be framed by such a gorgeous flower.” Alder orated as he bowed, smiled broadly, never taking his eyes off of the blossoming young woman.

[Silkie McDonough]

The delight of seeing the beautiful blossom lifted from the page had excited her but the hear the timber of his words, the knowledge displayed so confidently even though lost in its wake. Murin trembled when his fingers nimbly placed the blossoms behind her ear amongst the stray curls that fell below her wide brimmed straw hat. The attentions paid her by this man, thrilled her. She knew what she wanted to do, what her desires were. She smiled wistfully, curtsied in response to his bow and reached up to touch the blossom that he had placed behind her ear assuring her that the moment had not been a dream.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe stood quietly and became suddenly absorbed in blossoms across the way. She wished to make herself smaller so she could leave her friend alone with the man whom had so enraptured her. Jenny smiled to the flowers and herself as she caught snippets of the innocent affections between the two. They who had shared many a voyage and experience she surmised, but were seeming only now to have discovered one another. She wondered if being on land changed a person. One who was accustomed to so different a life on the sea. Mayhaps it brought forth the feeling of more possibilities, more time to explore ones private self... away from shipmates and duties. Strange, she thought, how the idea of leaving on such a fine ship as the Heron or Watch Dog seemed to mean just the opposite to her. Having been bound to a life which did not entirely suit her, either in the colonies or on the plantation. While she had her freedom, neither were of her choosing but simply borne of circumstance.

Bringing a delicate lavender bloom to her face, Miss Ashcombe wondered at the thoughts she was only now revealing to herself. To leave..to strike out on one's own..was it possible?

Shaking off such frivolous musings she realized Murin and Mr. Wenge had ceased talking and stood waiting patiently for the young woman lost in thought and purple hued flowers. "Oh, forgive me..shall we make our way to supper? Mr. Wenge, if you will permit me to be so forward..will you do us the honor of joining us this eve ?"

[Alder]

“Miss Ashcombe, it would be a pleasure beyond compare to continue to share such delightful company.” Alder’s smile radiated warmth as he reveled in this, his good fortune. He had been oft reminded by his father, that the world will offer you that which you wish. Father however, had not intended this manner of existence to be his eldest son’s desire, though he could not abide the quenching of their shared passion for adventure. In many ways, the elder Wenge bore a pang of responsibility for his son's nature; making the tears of his wife even harder to endure as Alder had announced his departure.

As tighter knit cobblestone emerged upon the path, Alder experienced a disturbing churn deep within his belly; the scent of mouth-watering fare wafted toward the trio. The need for sustenance may have been abated by the delicious distraction with absinthe eyes, but his flesh demanded more. He would be certain; nevertheless, to forgo celebratory, over indulgence in the “water of life” to a more fraternal gathering. Unlike his father, his sense of responsibility both bound and freed him. He would not consider impeding his capacity while he escorted the lasses. Many a rogue would welcome the opportunity to lightening coin from an unwary party or . . . worse. Alder would not permit his imaginings to venture there, save as a reminder that his carnal pleasures must be tempered by duty.

Thought well-skilled, he could not help but appreciate the many that came ashore well- armed… he was not. He appreciated it may take measurable time for his new Captain to fully gain his trust. It was how it must be, how it should be.

Alder began to make out ever more familiar elements in the architecture as they traveled closer, until the sign "Le Chateau Anse" came into view. Indeed, he sighed to himself, as he viewed the dream made flesh by his side. His inner monolog continued, we have tarried quite long enough. The time is ripe for more poetic, perchance private exchange.

He pried the formidable carved door from it’s frame, releasing sound and scent to pour into the street. Assured the passage was safe, Alder ushered the ladies ahead of him.

“Ladies, we have at last arrived” his voice could be scarcely heard above the boisterous posturing and mating calls of the loquacious patrons as they entered the tavern that adjoined the Inn. Alder hope they might fall upon an overlooked or abandoned niche that might buffer the surroundings. He scanned the room and was met by the recognizable visage of crewmates immersed in exchanges of their own.

[Silkie McDonough]

Oh that the inn pub had been less crowded and had fewer of the Watch Dog crew there. Murin had no wish to fraternize with the others just now. Her interest was in the carpenter and none other although she was truly enjoying the company of both Genevieve and Alder. She stood for a moment contemplating if they should join the others from the starboard watch. It would be polite. She paused only a moment as the the moving air was redirected by the closing door Mister Wenge had pulled close behind them. Spying an empty table in the corner Miss McDonough gathered her courage, set her resolve, hoped the remainder of the crew would not be offended and glided to that table without even consulting her companions.

When she reached the table she turned was pleased to see that she had not offended Alder with her boldness. His smile was still broad and his eyes bright. Mister Wenge swept around the table and pulled out the two furthest chairs for the ladies tending to Miss Ashcombe while Murin waited to her right. As Mister Wenge lingered ever so briefly at her chair the young tailor closed her eyes and said a silent thank you to her maker. Alder was about to take the seat to Murin's right when a friendly voice with the unmistakable lilt of Murin's homeland brought the attention of the small group to Captain Lasseter's presence. "Mister Wenge, Miss McDonough," he bowed his head to each. Alder extended his right hand to the captain. Murin began to rise from her seat out of respect for the officer but he signaled with his the hat in his free hand and a shake of his head that she should remain seated. With a sweeping gesture Alder made the additional introduction "Captain Dorian Lasseter, Miss Genevieve Ashcombe" Both smiled and responded with a nod of the head to the other.

"Pleased to meet you sir"

"The pleasure is indeed mine."

Alder continued "Captain, would you care to join us?" he indicated the empty chair between Miss Ashcombe's and his. The Captain glanced at the more boisterous members of the crew then replied, "I tink I shall." At that he seated himself and signaled for the bar wench. Orders were placed and conversation soon crossed the table in all directions.

Murin was thrilled that the captain acknowledged her and agreed to join them. Perhaps she had been mistaken earlier when he had not greeted her. Perhaps he had simply not seen her and had not ignored her at all. Her insecurities seemed to always be gnawing at her confidence. When would she grasp the knowledge that the officers and crew of the Watch Dog were nothing like the officers and learned men and women she had known for most of her life. That these people saw her as a valuable asset and although she still was unproven as a tailor she had cemented her place on the crew by stepping up to the challenge when in battle. Again the lass said a silent prayer for her good fortune.

[Pew]

The Crew aboard the Jollywatt

Cobus and Luigi had reached the dock a good 15 minutes before the longboat had arrived. Scrambling into the closest inns and taverns, they quickly spread word about the condition of the Master-at-arms. Cobus recieved many stares from the Frenchmen until he asked for the whereabouts of Captain Brand. Brows, now unfurrowed, a few men had mentioned they had seen the Captain and a much larger man dressed as a marine, head in the direction of the prison. Luigi slapped Cobus on the back and they turned quickly on their heels and ran out the door.

The Crew aboard the Longboat

Luc put his hand to his eyes and peered at the wharf. He knew the small town intimately and decided the quickest way to reach the surgeon ashore.

He turned to Eric, "Mizter Franklin, zee zhurgeon can be found halfway into town, to zee Zouth Eazt zide. Make landfall zere." Luc pointed to a small piece of shoreline, "It eez zee zhortest route."

Eric Franklin pulled the tiller towards himself to ease the craft past the wharf. The sweeps had continued their melodic slap and pull through the calm waters. Within minutes they had breeeched the shore. Jannes and Teeke were the first ove the rails to pull the longboat further onto the beach. Drewes held Preston's head until Luc and Eric had also climbed out of the boat. All at once they pulled from each corner of the canvas to carry the master-at-arms ashore. Drewes ran ahead to fetch a wheeled cart or wagon to hurry Preston to town.

As the men reached the southernmost street, Drewes arrived with a wagon and a driver. Large enough for all of the men, they were able to hoist Preston into the back and climb aboard. With Luc seated next to the driver they sped away with several slaps of the whip to the horses. Several turns later and a near miss with a fish cart found them at the doorstep of the town surgeon.

The Crew aboard the Watch Dog

Tudor Smith stood on holy ground until she could not see the men through the spyglass anymore. Pensive, she rested the viewpiece on her hip and continued to stare at the shore. She knew of the symptoms as she had seen them before in many of the men she had crewed alongside. Knowing the outcome, she mouthed the words, "not good" to herself.

Jean Doublet and Pierre St. Germain had already begun to pitch in on the deck of the Watch Dog. Jean Dorleac had stood tall in the waist knowing any command could be carried out to it's fullest. Introducing himself to the new members, Pierre was delighted to find a boy of nearly his own age and able to speak his mother tongue as well.

"Show them about Jean," called Tudor from the quarterdeck. With a snap to attention and a salute, 'Little' Jean now led his new crewmen on a tour below decks to show them of his ship.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Le Chateau Anse

Captain Lasseter sat and slowly drank the small beer he had ordered, actually glad it was weak, seeing as he had drunk his fill of spirits at the chandlery. He did not need to fill his gut with more. Small talk ran around the table, from how the events of the day had unfolded for them as for the captain. Miss Ashcombe remained mostly silent, only saying she had enjoyed her time with Silkie as she shopped, and Mister Wenge as their escort. The Tailor and Carpenter were both pleased at Dorian’s announcement that the Heron would be re-armed with fine brass guns, larger than those she now defended herself with. Alder put a hand to his chin in thought and was about to ask Dorian a question that he knew pertained to the larger armament.

“Master Wenge, think not of it presen’ly… Aye, the bulwarks’ll need extra shorin’ up fer such guns… not to worry… all will be done by you ‘r other crew… but it’ll wait til our time ashore has ended.”

Alder smiled and nodded, just then the food arrived and was placed around the table. Soon all were immersed in the course of their meals. The men ate heartily and with gusto, while the women took a slightly easier tac with consuming their food. When Dorian was mostly finished with his plate, he sighed and laid down his fork.

“ I have been remiss… take up yer drinks if ye will… A toast… a toast to good health, fine company, and wealthy prizes.”

He held his tankard aloft, and soon it was joined by those vessels held by his crewmates and their companion. All drank is toast with a smile. The others went back to their meals while Dorian sat and took a look about the room, noting the temperament of the rest of the patrons and being satisfied that all was well enough, yet he remained guarded enough that his purse would not be cut.

[BriarRose Kildare]

The room was small and confining as she paced restlessly back and forth. Usually BriarRose found a sense of tranquility and peace with in the confines of her room, but tonight she seemed to sense something in the air. Heaving a heavy sigh, she tried once more to lay down upon her cot in the hopes that sleep would over take her.

There was a light knocking at her door. BriarRose quickly got up crossing the small space to open the door. Friar Thomas was standing there with a look of deep concern upon his face.

“Dear Child, I am sorry to bother you at such an hour, but I have just received a missive of great importance.” He handed her a letter with the crest of a lion broken upon it.

Her hands shook as she read the contents. Looking up she asked, “What am I to do?”

Friar Thomas shook his head, “I am uncertain, but you must leave immediately before he comes. I will try my best to dissuade him of your whereabouts my Child.”

“I must hurry then. I have a place I can go for now. Will you help me to get there?”

“I have a cart and donkey already waiting for you.”

“It will take me only but a quarter past to be ready.”

“Then I will wait for you outside.” Friar Thomas turned to leave as BriarRose shut the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves she quickly packed her meager belongings. Although she dressed plainly her stature and bearing were unmistakeable for that of a lady. Her warm copper tresses flowed down her back as she fought to tie them up in a black ribbon. Finally ready, with a few minutes to spare she quietly let herself out of her room. Her slippered feet made very little noise as she walked down the hall to the side door entrance.

As he had promised, Friar Thomas waited for her. “I will take you to your destination, for I trust no other.”

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve heard the sound of a wagon and horses but paid it no mind until it stopped suddenly outside of her place. The sound of urgent voices came to her from below. She moved over to her bedroom window for a look and saw 5 men dragging some poor wretch out of the carriage. For a moment, she thought this was the result of some brawl, but quickly realized the man was unconscious and had a shirt covered in blood. She couldn’t help herself as she flew down the stairs to her open shop door to meet the men who had obviously brought this man to her doorstep for help.

“Bring ‘im inside”, she said urgently motioning to the table she had for this express purpose. Not all five men could fit through her doorway at once, and she would have laughed had the situation not been serious at the way the men argued a bit over who would carry him and fumbled over which way to turn the poor unconscious man to get him through the door. One of the men took charge, barking rather sharply in his deep concern, that he and Luc would handle ‘Mr. Pew’ from here. He ordered the others to wait outside. Maeve looked on as this transpired and wondered why the name of Mr. Pew should seem familiar. She peered at the unconscious man as he hung strung between the shoulders of Luc and the One in Charge while he barked his orders. Maeve could see now that his shirt was soaked in blood as well as vomit.

Eric Franklin turned his attention now to Maeve as he and Luc carried Mr. Pew across the threshold. “Miss, we ‘ave urgent need of yer services”, he puffed as he and Luc bore the patient to the waiting table. They laid him down carefully, the One in Charge cradling Mr. Pew’s head. “Oh!”, Maeve exclaimed, suddenly recognizing the unconscious face now that it wasn’t hanging down against his blood soaked chest. Luc took a polite step back after laying the body down, but Eric’s body language showed he had every intention of staying close by. “I recognize this man”, she said looking from the patient to the One in Charge. “Now would ya please tell me yer nem and exactly wots happenin’ here?”

Eric quickly introduced himself and told the surgeon all that he had witnessed regarding Mr. Pew’s onset of illness. Maeve unconsciously pressed her lips firmly together as she listened, and her eyes flickered often to Mr. Pew as Eric spoke. By the time he was finished, Maeve wore a grave expression and had stopped looking at Eric altogether as she bent over the unconscious form. Dried blood and vomit clung to his lips and goatee, and his pallor was altogether unnatural. Beads of sweat clung to his skin and his breathing was much too shallow. Eric’s voice trailed off and he watched as Maeve assessed Mr. Pew’s condition. With a grave expression, Maeve carefully lifted a closed eyelid and, to her dismay, noted the dreaded yellow tinge. Her hand dropped away quickly. “What?”, Eric asked tersely. “What is it?”

“Well, et looks as though yer friend has the Fever of Siam”. Eric’s face became more grave still at this pronouncement, and Luc crossed himself. Eric’s lips moved as he stopped and started sentences many times before he finally asked, “Miss, can ya help ‘im?”

Maeve nodded slowly. “I’ll do what I can ta help, but yer friend here is very badly off. I’ll get ‘im cleaned up and then we’ll have ta bleed ‘im a bit”, she said decisively. Her confident plan of action seemed to comfort Eric a bit, who stepped outside to send the waiting men on there way back to the boat with a message for the Captain and Mr. Lasseter to inform them immediately upon their return to the ship of Mr. Pew’s condition and as to their whereabouts.

Eric stepped back inside as the men began to leave and firmly closed the shop door as Maeve resolutely set about the tasks she had prescribed for the patient. Fidgeting, he watched her working, wondering if there was any hope for his comrade. He wondered this and many other things as the night wore on.

[BriarRose Kildare]

“My dear friend and friar, thank you for your kindness and generosity.”

Friar Thomas quickly set the cart in motion. “It is just a few blocks from here Friar Thomas.” They traveled quickly and discreetly through the streets. At last they came to her destination. Jumping gracefully down, BriarRose gathered her belongings and placed them on the doorstep. Friar Thomas took her hands and spoke, “Be of faith my Child. Believe that you are in God’s hands and he will take care of you. Know that I am your friend and servant always.” With that he jumped back up on to the cart and left.

Standing alone for a moment, she almost succumbed to a fit of both tears and laughter. Sighing, she turned to knock upon her trusted friend, Maeve’s door.

[Pew]

Cobus and Luigi

Luigi sped through the crowded streets only to stop when his bearings became off. Cobus, quick on Luigi's heels, several times rested his hands on his knees and bent down to gather more breath. At the last stop, Cobus pointed to a small group of horses lashed to a post outside the "Chope du Ardent". Luigi nodded and moved quickly to untie the steeds.

Only 10 minutes had passed since the men had arrived in town and spread the word. They were now on horseback rapidly approaching the gates leading into the fortress.

The French Marines guarding the entrance were quickly alerted when they heard the shrieks of several women and the swearing of those patrons peddling goods along the roads. A cloud of dust had followed the men and made their approach wary to the guards. The Lieutenant of the Marines had arisen from the guardhouse and made his way to the middle of roadway. Removing his sword, he ordered his men to draw a bead on the approaching horsemen. He squinted in the bright sunlight and tried to make out who the men may be.

Luigi slowed his gallop as he saw the guards had shouldered their muskets and he knew whom they were aiming at. Cobus quickly caught up, but his horse reared as the animal saw the Marines standing with weapons drawn. Luigi held his ground firmly as his horse danced in a tight circle and he tried to explain to the Lieutenant their disregard for the citizens and utmost urgency of their pace. The Lieutenant ordered his men to stand down as he recognized the name and description of the Captain who had passed through the gates some time earlier. A sergeant was called upon to direct the men to Louis de Mallevaud, the commandant of marines, as this was the last place the Lieutenant knew Captain Brand had been sent.

A horse was brought out for the sergeant and again the men were quickly off. Luigi figured the man had spent some time in the French Cavalry as he was expertly guiding the horse threw the populace with nary a swear being levelled at them.

Upon reaching the Intendant's House, a secretary was sent forth from the building. Luigi and Cobus could not hear the discussion, but it was brief and ended with a point towards the Governor's home. The cloud of dust quickly left them this time as they were shot forth over paved stones. The sergeant lept from his steed at the doorway and was offered a salute by the men at the entrance to the Governor's house. Quickly, Cobus and Luigi were following the Marine.

[Silkie McDonough]

Le Chateau Anse

Nathan had been standing across the street from Le Chateau Anse watching for Miss McDonough. The vision of the lass when he spied her was not what he had expected but well worth the wait. She was dressed as a lady in pastel greens and taupe’s and pink floral. Her auburn curls were neatly tucked beneath a cap and a plain wide brimmed straw hat the back of which was cocked up. A small bunch of bright pink flowers sat amongst the curls that fell about her left ear. Her soft lips were open revealing her teeth in a broad smile. He could not help but smile at the site. With her was a attractive, petite lass whose bearing spoke of affluence. Murin had told him of "Jenny", this must be her. He tapped the ash from his pipe out, tucked it into the right cock of his hat and was about to step into the street when he finally took note of the man who had held the door for them. He paused. It was the carpenter. The very man who’s interest in Murin was unmistakable at their meeting earlier today. Alder Wenge who had stood there with some lass hooked on his arm. Murin had said she had not conversed with the man prior to that introduction save to take a report for Captain Brand. Had she chosen the company of a man at least 10 years her senior’s over his? He had noticed a slight blush on her cheek in his company earlier. No, Murin was not the sort to play like that. He was sure that the trio had had simply joined when their paths had crossed.

Well, this would change his plans a bit but he was determined now more than before to share the lass's company this evening. Setting his hat atop his head once again he advanced to the entrance of the hostel. Once inside he surveyed the pub. A few of the crew were raising a bit of a ruckus toward the front of the inn but the woman he sought was not among them. The trio had taken a table in a quiet back corner and Captain Lasseter was at that moment greeting them. "Nate!" He turned towards the call of his name. Paul Mooney signaled him to come join the others. He stood in place for a moment as he looked to the back corner of the pub, Captain Lasseter had taken the empty seat and was now speaking to the serving wench. He sighed to himself and headed towards Mooney and the others. Before he sat a tankard was in his hand and he was enjoying the camaraderie but the entire time he kept his eye on those in the back of the room waiting for the moment when he could politely join the more intimate company of Miss McDonough and the others.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe sat quietly enjoying the unusually flavorful fare of both the meal they shared and the company present. She was introduced with gracious aplomb by the Carpenter to the Captain of the sister ship Heron. Jenny recognised him as the same whom Miss McDonough had called to when they had met for lunch. Perhaps Captain Lasseter had just failed to see Miss McDonough in the darkened room then. He seemed cordial enough as they exchanged proper pleasantries. Perhaps Murin had felt slighted for no reason earlier. She hadn't said as much, but the dissapointment had shown clearly on her youthful face. Jenny was sure it was simply that ones eyes took a while to adjust to the light when coming into the dark but cozy tavern. Which was dim even earlier in the day making it deliberately cooler and so enticing it's patrons to linger for a second drink or plate of food. With design of heavy hewn beams and quiet corners it was a comfortable place. Tallow lamps now lent the place a comforting glow as the last rays of the caribbean sun filtered through shutters half open, illuminating patterns in the dust and smoke of clay pipes. Jenny listened to the easy flow of conversation at the small table. It flowed rhythmically in the cadence of people accustomed to one another and the differences in accent and outspokenness. They talked of things procured for future journeys as well as for simple pleasure such as books, games and the lot. Here and there she was able to join in, voicing an opinion or question on stories or the use of various items purchased in sometimes surprising quantity. She was even proud to have answered a query on the best place to purchase some fine pewter items. The evening went on and other crew members whom the pub seemed filled with, stopped by at one time or another to share a greeting, question or piece of information. In between Mr. Wenge and Miss McDonough exchanged the awkward conversation of two who wished more privacy for their thoughts.

[William Brand]

July 30, 1704 - At Martinique

Cobus and Luigi had covered the whole of St. Louis in almost equal parts to Captain Brand and his companions, only to learn once more that the Captain had proceeded them in their course. Everywhere they went they were but a stragglers traveling in the wake of the man and the marines in his company. Their arrival at the Particular Governor's House was no exception. They were there barely a quarter of an hour before being told that Captain Brand, papers in hand, had returned once more to Fort Royal Prison.

Luigi and Cobus were gracious within the Governor's House, but once on the road again, Luigi let loose a steady report of hand crafted curses. Much of this was in his own language, but Cobus translated the tone of it.

Still, the two men made haste, moved by urgency and the momentum of their task. They flew threw streets now familiar by repetition, making excellent time on their return to the fortress. So quick was their course, that they arrived ahead of the Captain by several minutes, for William and the others had stopped to sup at a small establishment along the way.

Luigi planted himself in front of the Captain and reported all that had befallen the Master-at-Arms. He spared no gruesome detail as he remembered it, mentioning the particulars of Mister Pew's symptoms, and the diagnosis of Miss O'Treasaigh. As he spoke, William's face went first sober and then grave. He did not interrupt Luigi once, and even when the man was finished speaking, he said nothing. He stood a long time while the four men waited for him to ask or offer some remark. He turned once to look out over St.Louis spread below, focusing on that part of town where the young doctor's shop lay.

When he spoke again, his voice was low. "Is Miss Fitzgerald come again to the 'Dog."

"No, Sah. She was not aboard when we departed."

William stood again awhile in silence. His brow knitted once or twice in thought. "Has any word of her come again to the 'Dog."

"No, Sah. None that I've heard."

Apart from his immediate concern for his friend and fellow officer of the Watch Dog, William's emotions were of two camps. The ship's Doctor had gone ashore on leave some two days now without word or explanation. This had never bothered him before, since her freedom of movement had always been a prerogative of her place aboard the frigate, but now he was moved to both concern and anger simultaneously. He wondered, and not for the first time today, if her shadowed past had caught up with her in some secreted place here on Martinique. She might even now be within the prison itself, and he turned and regarded the gates of the place a moment as he thought this. This possibility gave him no comfort, but he found the idea better than the alternative. Justified or no, he did not like the idea of her sipping and drinking French delicacies while the Master-at-Arms perished in blood and fever. He had no real cause to be angry with her, but the news of Mister Pew had caught him unprepared.

"Have any others these...symptoms?"

"Not that I have witnessed, Sah."

William began pacing his usual course as he pondered on the matter. He stopped once to look up at the fort walls, sucking air through his teeth in a kind of silent profanity that could not find words suitable enough. Finally he nodded, in answer to some conversation within, and he ordered the men back aboard the carriage for one more journey in a day of journeys.

Third bell of First Watch

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Black Syren]

Jacques had been given over to Eric one they had come aboard and she had made a small collar and leash out of some scrap rope and fastened Argus to the mast so she could make her way up. The pup was noisy that was for sure but she could not leave him to his fate, it would not have been a good one. And she was a firm believer that one good turn deserved another and so Argus had been brought up and allowed to stay for a trial period of sorts.

Nibbling upon her lower lip she fastened the pup to the mast and told him to sit, this just caused him to wriggle excitedly and his long tongue shot towards her face causing her to fall over backwards upon the deck. Much laughter accompanied this event and face burning she shoved off the Pup and bid him stay in a no nonsense and very firm voice. The pup cowered and stuck his tail betwixt his legs and did as was bidden with a whimper.

Immediately she felt the heel and squatted before Argus and scratched his ears. “You have to learn to mind, and you have a short time to do it in else you have to go back. I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but we have to find some way to communicate else we will both be in trouble up to our eyeballs and I would avoid that fate if possible.” She whispered to him. Glancing about she noticed Ciaran eyeing her arms crossed over his chest and watching her and then moving to Argus. “Ye have yer work cut out fer ye lass, but yer a persistent one. But yer right, he needs to mind his manners else he will be left behind. Good luck and if’n I were you Id start on his manners right away.” That said he patted her shoulder and walked past.

Rubbing a hand over her face she stood and moved to ask for a small bone from Mr. Gage and returned. Over the course of the afternoon she grew more frustrated and eventually began yelling as the pup sought the bone and refused to do as commanded. When her voice grew weary she resorted to hand actions and finally some semblance was made and the pup soon learned to sit by a simple drop of her hand, to lay down by keeping her palm flat and pushing down as if on top of a desk, and by not barking by a shake of her finger. Satisfied he had at least learned something she made the command for him to lay and watched as he warily did so then handed him the bone for his reward. “We two are much alike I see…both of us stubborn, but we have to work together for this to work.” She kissed his nose and then rose and stretched and wondered how the day had passed so quickly.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Tavern at Le Chateau Anse

The hour grew later in the tavern and the air thicker with laughter, conversation and the smells of hearty fare. All blending together into the sort of combination which brewed fine memories one could savor in leaner times. While the others at the table continued to pick at their plates, Captain Lasseter finished with his repast, settled to nurse his tankard and imbibe of the scene before him. The crews of the Heron and Watch Dog clearly enjoying new found fortune and some time for simple pleasures. When even Alder had turned away the serving wench with yet another plate of meat, heads tuned towards the far side of the room where music had begun to flow forth from an oddly matched trio. A violin, mandolin and flute blended well even if the vastly different appearances of their owners did not. Murin gave a deep sigh and closed her eyes, a broad smile crossing her sunburned cheeks. She swayed and began to hum along with the shanty familiar to many in the room. Nathan had looked to Miss McDonough the moment the music had begun to play, knowing she was given to song. He left his plate and feasted his eyes upon her now allowing himself the briefest fancy of asking her to dance. Paul Mooney gave him a sharp elbow causing him to jump and turn red. "Go on...ask er " Nathan just laughed and brought his cup to his lips chiding himself silently for even entertaining the thought. Still he couldn't help a pang of jealousy as he again glanced her way noticing how close she and Mr. Wenge were sitting. Miss Ashcombe smiled and watched as a few lucky lads found themselves a gerl to take once around the floor, while others were lost in thought and drink..memories and longings private to themselves carried along by the music.

[Alder]

The evening held the trappings of as casual a social gathering as any might, save two voices so set to the frequency betwixt one another that the drone of the surrounding crowd faded into the rough hewn timbers.

Captain Lasseter lent an inquisitive ear to the sidebar discussion of the Heron and her new appurtenances. Sharing his assessment of the strategic advantage, Alder could not help but project the labors necessary to adequately fortify the ship. Able and eager, the crew he visualized was up to the task; though he became increasingly anxious not to be away from guiding the effort. Alder raised his head above his appreciation of the shared excitement with Miss McDonough as she became understandably distracted by the music that had begun to play. Her eyes closed as her body moved faintly with a tantric pulse that surged Alders interest in an unpardonable manner. Alder could tolerate the distance no longer.

“Miss McDonough, if I may be so brazen…” he opened slyly, “might I share thy company in a dance?”

Still transfixed by the melody and excited, thought not completely sure of his words, Murin smiled a questioning smile.

“Would ya care ta dance Lass?” he softened his formal tone and wore a confidently capricious smile.

“Aye” she choked an off-key reply from her diverted humming and straightening her skirt as she stood. Both were completely oblivious to the vexation traversing the floor toward the table they would soon abandon.

Ever the mediator; a vital component of his leadership, Captain Lasseter stood and drew Nate’s attention away from the scene.

“Mister Bly, ave a drink with me lad.” the Captain directed in more the manner of commanded than request. The draw of Nate’s enraged body toward the duo was unmistakable, though the command of Mister Lasseter bade more power still. Considering well his options, Nate begrudgingly complied.

Blissfully unaware, the two cared a space for themselves amongst the celebratory revelers. Dancing had oft been for reserved for Alder’s own delectation, though on this occasion it was her pleasure he considered foremost. The carpenter skilled in timber and also tempo became but the frame of the portrait of her radiant femininity. Murin’s skirts swirled as Alder adeptly lifted her hand aloft, creating space between that neither craved, but space which the two would once again rejoin. Her agility matched his fluid movements as artistically on the floor as such gifts were practically applied aboard their vessel. He displayed her on the floor, a glowing jewel in the setting of his arms. The shadows of the many dancers played in sepia tone against softened brick and rough hewn logs of the tavern. Wrought iron bands dripping with wax embraced thick columns of ivory; flame sputtered atop wicks licked by a subtle breeze.

Assessing and reassessing the stage, Alder wanted to be certain the aristocratic moves to which he was accustomed were measured for the setting and his partner. Murin glanced back toward her friend Jenny for feminine confirmation. To Murin’s surprise, Miss Ashcombe wore a look of some concern. She directed Murin’s view over to Nathan who was not so rapt in conversation with the Captain that he could not shoot his consternation Murin’s way. Nathan had taken up Alder’s seat at the covey of crew, possessively resting his arm on the carved backrest of the chair that had been hers. Miss McDonough was taken aback by his severe expression. Her dance partner could not help but notice the abrupt change in her step and spun her closer to track the cause. Bound well by his embrace Murin’s expression melted into a reserve smile. Feeling the unnatural distance that force it’s way between, he looked over her shoulder at source of her dismay.

Nathan Bly! Of course, Alder should have known he would not so easily be rid of the meddlesome pest, who; by all accounts this evening, appeared one dram shy good sense. Murin felt the carpenter tense and with that, held him firmly, assuredly closer as the tempo of the shanty calmed to gentle refrain. Nathan’s blood was fevered by their familiarity and the elixir that blended with the jealousy coursing through his veins. To somewhat complicate the standing, Alder could just make out the reflective glint of metal tucked neatly in the sash wrapped at Mister Bly’s waist.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter, though having drunk his fill was still sharp. He had witnessed the possibility of a quarrel between shipmates and defused it, if for only a short time. Mister Bly had been reigned in for a time, though he did not let got of what was eating him. Dorian watched this and made calculations in his head, watching The Carpenter and Tailor dance, while Mister Bly watched, his temper rising. Dorian looked at the other person in his company, Miss Ashcombe. He gave a look and silent apology to her, hoping to reassure her that they would not end up in the middle of a bare knuckled brawl, or worse, as each and every sailor from the Watch Dog and Heron was given a pistol before shore leave, and all the marines were armed with musket as well. At one point Nathan shifted his weight as if to stand, the look on his face said he meant to cross the floor and have words, or worse, with the dancing couple. At that moment Dorian stepped close to Nathan, blocking his path.

“You’ll not want ta be doin’ that’ lad… “

Dorian spoke this in a tone of steel on steel close to Mister Bly’s ear. The man nearly jumped away from the Captain as he spoke. His face was slightly ashen, but recovered quickly and he opened his mouth in a snarl, the drink taking away his regard for the chain of command. Before a word escaped his lips Dorian’s hand had shot out and taken the man by the throat. Again he spoke in the sharp tone.

“I warn ye… I know not what you an’ those two have betwixt ye… Either Captain brand or M’self will get ta th’ bottom o’ it soon… There be enough trouble in this port save wot ye might stir up, an’ I’ll be havin’ none of it… Sit yer arse down an’ steady yerself, Or I’ve a mind ta ruin yer evenin’…”

Nathan stood slack-jawed for a moment, then just about fell into the chair he previously occupied, turned his eyes to his tankard and took a deep breath.

“My Apologies Miss Ashecombe… I shall return in a moment…”

Dorian Tipped his hat and put on a fine smile, then walked across the room to the dancing couple.

“Mister Wenge, Miss McDonough… I believe yer havin’ a grande time a-dancin’ an’ a-flirtin’… I would suggest ye remember this time well, and not make such a show next time… if there be a next time… “

He smiled sweetly and tipped his hat and turned to leave, but stopped and addressed them once again.

“One other thing… Iffn’ I hear tell of a brawl in this place or another, and any of ye be involved, no matter who be at fault… it will not go well once back aboard… “

Again he smiled and tipped his hat and made his way back to the table where a brooding Nathan Bly and the young lady sat with their drinks in hand. He placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, picked up his tankard and tapped it against the man’s and said some words, to which the three of them drank. As they did so, some other crewmen from their ship entered in a hurry, scanned the crowd and pointed to Captain Lasseter, making their way to his side.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe's attention was drawn from her friends dance with Mr. Wenge by Captain Lasseters sudden departure. She wondered at his look and apology.. nodding slowly as her mind fought to find reason for such action. Then she spied the answer to her confusion. The Captain placed himself in Nathan Bly's way to her left, leaning in to have words with him. She could not hear those words, but the demeanor of their host implied they were sharp. She looked hurriedly back to Murin trying to alert the gerl amidst her reverie, to what was brewing as a result of her promenade with the carpenter. Jenny then sat both hands upon her cup trying to remain composed, unsure of what to do nor what would happen. Getting up and leaving though it was her temptation, would be unseemly so she sat trying to remain as still as her nerves would allow. Mr. Bly appeared to be quite intoxicated, though whether the mixture was more rage or rum was unclear. A moment passed which felt like several ..Miss Ashcombes eyes widened at the speed with which Captain Lasster's hand flew to the man's throat and with few spoken words Mr. Bly relinqished and sat heavily back in his chair. His face taking little ease but making no further effort towards the two still in each others arms. Jenny worried the fabric of her skirts beneath the table and realizing she did so, she hastily smoothed the linen and placed delicate hands in her lap as a lady should. At this point Captain Lasseter returned apologizing again with as much decorum as if he were off to speak with a colleague and none of emotion bearing the action just witnessed.

She simply nodded again and gave a weak smile, too afraid to look to Mr. Bly at her side. Once he had spoken to Murin and Alder who continued to stand together amidst the other patrons, the Captain returned to their table offering a toast and a concilatory look to Nathan. She had barely brought the cup to her lips when several crew burst through the crowd commanding his attention and all speaking at once. Over the din Jenny didn't understand what was said, but even Mr. Bly seemed to immediately forget his own thoughts and rushed to join the men. Jenny Ashcombe felt more and more that she had gotten herself once again, as she had been scolded many a time by either her uncle or the dour Mr. Saint James "too involved in the affairs of others" She bit her bottom lip and sat worrying the linen of her skirts once again.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Nathan slumped, arms folded, in his chair, brooding. How could he have been such a fool? Murin would never stoop so low as to acknowledge his affections. After all he was a Metis, a half blood. Even in his own lands he was regarded with some disdain, though there were those such as Bill Flint who held his orgins to be of little import and accepted him for the good soul that he was. But now he was drunk and very little of his genial spirit was presently manifest. How could she do this to him? After all he had done for her. To simply cast his feelings for her aside, and take up with this stranger she barely knew. A man who only days before had been there prisoner, who like as not would probably not be treating her quite so well had the outcome of the battle been different. And then there was his mannerisms, though he'd made no mention of it the man obviously came from some money. Having been their whipping boy most of his life he knew the wealthy when he came upon them. Could Murin not see this? If she could then that made her a hypocrite with the way she had once railed against the wealthy in his presence. Regardless they'd both embarrassed him and now hatred had taken firm root in his heart.

"No, no, I'm only angry because I'm drunk. This means nothing between them."

However he quickly convinced himself otherwise. He saw how Murin sought the man out like a love sick pup. No, she cared nothing for him now. Now there was only Alder Wenge. Nathan spat and rose from his seat to search for another pub, there to drown his sorrows until the time came to return to the ship. As he stepped outside he cast his glance skyward and made a vow that never again would give either of them the hour of the day.

"Arms length Nate, that's the way of it."

As he also promised himself that as soon as an opportunity for passage back to New England presented itself he would take it and be rid of their infernal company for good.

"Cursed be the name of Alder Wenge and cursed be the name of Murin McDonough."

Soon there after he found a different watering hole and established himself among a merry lot and quite forgot the despicable duo.

[Pew]

Eric watched as the surgeon went about poking and prodding Preston, only to pause to wipe his brow with water from the urn. Eric stood roughly and pushed back the chair with the back of his leg only to have it make a shrill noise against the wood floor. He swung open the door and was soon in the street again.

Luc had sent the carriage back to the docks as the driver was a friend of his old tavern owner. Eric opened the door to see Jannes and Teeke sitting on the slight stoop. Drewes was just beginning to light his pipe when he saw Eric exit the surgeon's home. They each stood as asked about the condition of the Master-at-arms. Eric tried to reassure them, knowing that the outcome was not good, but kept his true feelings to himself. He sent Jannes and Teeke back to the longboat with Drewes to send word to Tudor. Eric wished Luc to go along as well as he wanted to get a bite to eat and some drink to slay the dragon within.

Luc joined the men in the short trek back to the boat. He glanced back to see Eric slowly following behind and looking on the various windows, obviously preoccupied.

Eric stopped once or twice to collect himself and sort out his bearings again. Only when he heard music and the laughter of several people did he find himself on the main street again.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve was not all that surprised when Eric Franklin took his leave of her shop and his friend’s company. The man’s worry and distress were barely contained and it was obvious to her that he needed some fresh air and perhaps a good stiff drink either alone or with some trusted company. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she found it quite stressful to put on a brave and serene face for the sake of Mr. Pew’s comrades than she actually felt. The truth was that Mr. Pew was not doing well and their shipmate hovered all too closely on that thin line between life and death. The chirurgeon gauged once more the amount that she had bled from Mr. Pew, and deciding that it was enough, took care to clean and bind off his bleeding arm, laying it gently against the patient’s side. Now, with a moment’s peace, she sought out her father’s notes on how to treat this illness. It wasn’t but ten minutes later, as she poured through her father’s notes, that she heard the sound of a cart pull up. A moment later, an urgent knock came at her shop door.

Thinking that perhaps one of Mr. Pew’s shipmates had returned, she smoothed the worry and insecurity from her face and opened the door. Instead of one of Mr. Pew’s companions, she was greeted by a pair of stormy blue-green eyes that hinted of tears. A quick assessment took in the packed bags on either side of a lovely woman standing before her with a face contorted between fear, anger, and hope.

“Briar!”, she exclaimed, immediately grabbing her friend’s hands despite her having dried blood on them. “Whatever is wrong?!”, she asked. Maeve hardly gave Briar a chance to answer as she looked down once more at the bags. “Are ya leavin’?! Come inside!”, she said urgently and didn’t wait for a response as she pulled her dear friend inside the shop, grabbed her bags, set them just inside and closed the shop door.

“Oh Maeve”, she whispered, voice thick with the emotion of fighting back tears. Just then Briar took notice of a man lying on Maeve’s table who looked as though the reaper stood over him, patiently waiting. This distracted her from an explanation to Maeve. “Who’s that? And what’s wrong with him?”. Briar was crossing to the table to inspect the man herself. Maeve almost laughed at her friend just then. It was so typical of her to throw her own worries aside to help someone else in need. Maeve gently grabbed her friend by the arms and stopped her from getting closer. Then, gripping Briar’s arms firmly, she forced her friend to look her in the eye. “Never ya mind him fer jest a moment. Tell me what’s wrong and why ya’ve packed all yer wordly possessions!”.

For a brief moment, fierceness flashed across Briar’s porcelain features, but were quickly tempered once more by fear. “He’s found me!”, she said and pressed her lips tightly together, as though that admission had suddenly made her situation too real for her. Maeve was confused for a moment, and then a slow comprehension dawned upon her. “Ya mean…”, she trailed off, giving Briar a look of knowing.

Briar bit her lip and nodded vigorously. A tear finally slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away defiantly.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the crewmen spoke to Captain Lasseter, the look on his face fell from a smile to a look of concern. He looked about the room at all the others of the crew and back to his tablemate.

“Miss Ashcombe, forgive me, one of my officers is quite ill, I must away… Please inform the Carpen… Mister Wenge and Miss McDonough that I am needed… I…”

He intended to say more, but it seemed that the word had spread. Other crewmen came over and queried Dorian about Mister PEW, to which he had no answer. He apologized again and placed several coins on the table that more than covered the food and drink. Still wearing the grave look, he attempted a smile and tipped his hat and began to make his way out of the room, heading out into the night. He was followed by several men to whom he turned and sent them back into the ordinary, they would all know more in the morning aboard the ships. He then began making his way to the wharf where he would find a boat to ferry him back to the Watch Dog, where he assumed the Master-at-Arms lay in the surgeons’ care.

[Alder]

Overcome by sudden misgivings for his advances and the obvious embarrassment of Miss McDonough, Alder was nevertheless impressed by the stalwart nature of Captain Lasseter's admonishment, if not his foreboding caveat. Preferring to draw less attention and ease his partner, Alder resumed the dance in more reserve fashion; questioning his own understanding of decorum in this setting; and on this, the Sabbath as well. Temperance, he thought as he peered deeply into Murin’s welling eyes, perhaps abstinence altogether might be best, he smiled a smile that belied his agonizing doubts. This night, he would pray to his patron, St. Joseph for strength and for guidance.

It was not in the carpenter’s nature to arouse undue stir; preferring to ease into the woodwork that he so prized. Uncertainty clouded his mind. What was he thinking, to arise from prisoner to this so soon after the abandonment of homeland, so soon after the tyranny of the ill-mannered and oppressive Captain that kept doused the fire of his spirit? The former Alder could not consider venturing to reach out for life’s pleasures, save his craft. Had he not been so welcomed aboard the crew, so rewarded by satisfaction of task and taskmaster he may never have emerged beyond his misogynistic vision of life aboard such a vessel.

The music began to languish into the distance as he guided Miss McDonough to the table identified only by the uncomfortably fidgeting Miss Ashcombe and now absent of Bly and Captain Lasseter. How had this come to pass? Once embolden as an escort, he felt strangely isolated as he scanned the room noticeably devoid of many familiar faces of fellow crewmen.