The Watch Dog

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose watched Preston for a bit as he lay in slumber. Then quietly she began cleaning up the room and reorganizing her apothecary chest. Once she was done she checked on her patient once more before leaving the room.

Maeve was just coming down the stairs, “Wot was that noise I heard?”

Briar laughed a bit and said, “Aye, well our patient thought he could take himself out of bed. But he is fine now and resting comfortably.”

Maeve, heaved a sigh and shook her head and said, “Aye, we will be needin’ to keep an eye on him then.”

“Agreed.” said Briar as she sat down in a chair. “Well, then Maeve, what can I do? I mean I can’t be staying here too long. He will find me out for sure. And as a dear friend I do not want you harmed in any way. Perhaps I should send word to the Friar to see if it is safe to purchase passage on a ship?”

Briar waited for her friend’s suggestion

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve grew still and she failed to entirely hide the crestfallen look on her face. “Oh”, she said simply, and took a moment to half-sit on the edge of the table. “Well, I dunno know really. You’ve barley spent one night here…I dinna expect ya to be lookin’ ta leave so soon”, she said quietly.

Briar went to speak just then but Maeve cut her off. “I do understand yer sense of urgency though”, she added, with a look that spoke volumes. “First, as yer dear friend, I absolutely insist that ya stay with me and I’ll not hear anything contrary”. Maeve fixed BriarRose with a look, though it was not as stern a look as she hoped, holding instead a rather imploring quality. “I’m not in harms way with ya here”, she continued. “As far as anyone knows, ya've answered ma post lookin’ fer someone ta share expenses and livin’ space”, she added with a sly smile. Briar’s face broke into a reluctant smile. “And besides”, she added, casually reaching for a freshly sharpened bloodletting razor, “I’ve got some friends” she said as she fingered the wicked tool, a wide-eyed innocent look suffusing her face. After a short moment, Maeve couldn’t maintain her composure and they both burst out laughing. With a sigh, Maeve set down the razor and regarded BriarRose once more.

“Second”, Maeve continued, “I wouldn't involve the Friar any ferther in thes than ya have to. He's already put 'imself at risk doin' what he did fer you. Instead I think that perhaps that would be a good question ta ask Mr. Franklin when he retarns with clothing fer Mr. Pew. I imagine he’ll be able to give you some advice and ideas. In the meantime, just lay as low as possible. Try not ta go outside until dark. I'll run all of the errands en the daytime an' do as much as I can fer you, includin' runnin' to the shipyard to arrange ya passage when the time comes alright?".

BriarRose still looked anxious, but agreed to at least wait for their patient's friend to return. With a warm hug, they discussed beginning a nice simmering pot of stew that could be had for lunch and dinner that day.

[Black Syren]

Nothing further was mentioned and once free of the town they began the climb into the hills, the ascent was not steep but it was gradual and she was long used to climbing the rigging and yet this was a diffrent sort of climb and left her nearly breathless upon reaching the top. Alan too had not remained unaffected and Treasure glanced to him a smile born of mischief, eyes alight with it before she whirled about ,arms out spinning like a child’s top.

“Is it not marvelous, It is like you can see for miles, like on the Dog but no swaying.” Then she looked disappointed “I miss the swaying.” Then she laughed and pointed out the things she could see on the ship at night that way he could view them and watch for the changes she had spoken briefly of. Alan of course was polite and listened to her excited chatter and moved to sit beneath an aged tree who branches sketched intriguing shadows over the ground.

Argus of course left to explore and finally Treasure flopped down beside Alan then rolled onto her stomach head resting upon folded arms “Tis beautiful is it not. Tis hard to believe that there are so many places and all of them different.” Her voice was quiet, reflective.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Maastricht

William stood at the taffrails on the Maastricht stretching tired legs. He had spent over two hours showing the Maastricht to three pairs of bidding businessmen, all of them bent on having the large merchant vessel for themselves. He couldn't blame them. The Maastricht had a good line for her size. She was tall to be sure and possessed of very comfortable after-cabins. The Ward Room and Captain's Cabin of the 'Dog were not half so big as the Maastricht's vast spaces astern, though she carried less guns than the 'Dog ton for ton. Her finest attribute was her construction, for she was well made and sturdy, especially with the refit under the watchful eye of their Master Carpenter.

Her only real failing lay in her lack of speed, but any cargo large enough to fill the total of her holds would prevent much in the way of speed anyway, and she could hold much. Her stores alone would be almost double that of the 'Dog.

William remembered then the curse-spat nickname that Jacob Badger had given her and he laughed. "The Elephant." he said aloud to no one.

Captain Lasseter's voice carried then across the waves and William turned to look out over the water towards the Heron, bemused to see the small vessel run out guns against the 'Dog in a pantomime of combat that was as serious as any real battle. He could hear Dorian's voice booming among the Heron gunnery crews as he ran them through their paces. More than once he was heard showering hard words followed by short praise, careful to mix derision with compliments as he drove them to an understanding of the new brass and all of the alterations that came with their weight.

William was content to listen for awhile, appraising what he couldn't see by Lasseter's shouting.

"Look lively ya flax-wench!" Dorian yelled at one particular failing and William smiled as he tried in vain to remember the meaning of it. Some of Dorian's calls were lost in the rebounding 'Aye-Ayes!' that echoed over the bay, but William still managed to pick out a few.

"Lumpish Joithead! Keep yer shoulder clear, there!"

Jacob Badger came up beside Captain Brand, tapping the end of a well used pipe in the palm of his hand. He was also smiling. "Cap'n's giving them a little Irish today."

"Aye." William agreed, never taking his eyes from the drilling aboard the Heron. "Sifting the sluggards."

Jacob nodded. They both stood awhile saying nothing, for the afternoon was a pleasant one, despite the warmth and neither of them was prepared to do any work for the moment. After a time listening, William removed his hat and wiped his brow before replacing it again. He took in a long breath of air and let it out.

"Mister Badger, you have the Maastricht."

"And tomorrow, sah?"

"The Counting House of Charpentier and Goddu."

Jacob looked surprised. "I would have thought that wheezing fellow, the..."

"The Sugar Baron?" William finished for him. "Aye. The Sugar Baron will have it. Eventually. Goddu offered me ten percent over Monsieur Dawnay's final offer, saying that he would sell it again to Dawnay himself at fifteen percent more.

"Then why not sell it to Dawnay for more, yourself?" Jacob returned, and he suddenly looked all business and numbers.

William smiled, for he too had thought of playing the haggler, but in the end he had recognized the dangers in the deal. "Well, Mister Badger...I do not believe that Goddu would have offered the ten percent so readily if he himself had not thought it the better tactic. Dawnay might walk away completely if we tire him with added numbers. He could also go to the Spanish." William said, gesturing to the large merchant ship anchored not too far off. "As it happened, they both understood each other well enough to know the lay of the land better than I." William concluded, but then added. "Better a bird in hand than ten in the wood."

Jacob nodded, but did not look altogether convinced. "If I may, sah. What will the Elephant fetch...?"

"By my calculation...nearly 66,719 livres."

It was the second time in as many weeks that William Brand had stunned Jacob Badger to silence. William watched with an appreciative smile as the Bosun did the calculations and exchanges in his head.

"That, sah...is close to...5,000 English pounds." Jacob said, hoping that his math was correct.

"Just neatly over 5,000." William agreed.

"Sah. I owe you another drink."

Six Bells of the Afternoon Watch

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor had remained on deck even though she had been relieved a while since. There were many things that needed her attention elsewhere, and she was at liberty to go ashore again which was tempting as she had her own buisness matters to attend to, but she did not wish to be far afield when the Captain returned to the Watch Dog.

When he did, she was there waiting. After relaying the message that Captain Lasseter had left to her, she hestiated a moment, formulating the best chosen words to relay the events that had passed during her watch. "We also had an ambassador sir. From the ship that is there in the distance." She motioned to where the Narvarra was anchored. "A Lieutenenant De la Cruz came aboard, bearing his Captains compliments and an invitation." Again she paused to make sure she spoke well. "And while nothing outward in his actions made him suspisious, there was something in his very demeanour that I did not quite trust." Not that she ever entirely trusted any strangers, but that was not important. "He seemed to be sizing up the entire ship. Making note of it's every angle . .. and every armorment."

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the 'Dog

Between six and seven bells of the Afternoon Watch

Before William said anything of the Navarra, he sent word across to the Heron that he had returned and that he would join dorian aboard the Heron within the hour. Then he invited Miss Smith for a drink in the Ward Room. She joined him there, but politely refused the drink, having shared several glasses from before. William poured himself one just the same, and set his hat aside.

"Tell me about the Lieutenant."

Tudor explained his mannerisms and the words that passed between her and him. She explained the revelation regarding the trap doors below their feet, and the understanding that the Spaniard had observed all aboard. William sipped his cup with an appreciative smile and nodded several times during her narration. When she was done, he said nothing. He sipped his glass until it was dry and then he set it aside.

"The Spanish are our allies, Miss Smith." William said smiply, and she gave him a look then that was less Steward and more armed boarder. He smiled. "Sorry. I did not mean to stoop, Miss Smith. You are right to be cautious." he amended, still smiling. "...but I imagine the examination of the Watch Dog is an affectation of the Lieutenant. A habit of his position. If he is a military man, then he must judge the strength of his friends as much as his enemies...as you are doing now, and to your credit."

She didn't say anything for a moment, so William leaned in a little as if in confidence, smiling as he said. "I imagine the Lieutenant was put out of habit when a woman invited him to the Ward Room."

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

After two hours of running the crew through gun drills, Dorian was satisfied. All learned a lot about how the new armament differed from the old. Some of the new crew learned from scratch. Captain Brand had returned from shore and was to come aboard the Heron soon as well.

“A’right you lads… well done, well done… secure th’ guns fer now, put all o’ them fully depressed, tampions out. Take yer ease an drink th’ water barrel dry. Then… yer ration o’ spirits…”

The crew gave a cheer, all but one who was unable to, but Adam grinned a toothy grin in response. Dorian had stripped to his shirtsleeves again during the drilling, even jumping in to show how he wanted something to be done. Again he gave the deck over to Mister Tucker and headed below. There in the wardroom of the Heron he drank his fill of water and stripped to the waist. He used more fresh water to bathe, then put on a fresh shirt before donning his outer garments and arms. As an afterthought he looked in a mirror and decided to redo his que as it had come part way undone. Once restored he put on his hat, completing his captain’s outfit. Nodding to his reflection, he went about the cabin straightening it up and setting out refreshments for when William came aboard.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The captain's smile and comment made Tudor's face relax ever so slightly. "T'is very true that there has never been a military man that could ever see me as a peer easily. Apparently the form of a woman is too much to look past. Though, the Liuetenant kept up his apperance very well. Maybe that is why I distrust him so. Anyone who can pretend to treat me as an equal so well, when there has never been a soul that accomplished that easily, is obviously good at dissembling. If he can hide his discomfort, what else could he hide?"

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - The Ward Room of the Watch Dog

"Infinite space in a nutshell, I imagine." William returned, with a shrug. "He has witnessed one of two things, which he believes. One, that you are a woman, and as such, you are the weaker sex. If this is the case, he does not understand the true meaning of lioness."

Tudor smiled at this and asked if she might have that drink now. William poured her a short glass, but he did not refill his own.

"Two..." William continued, "...he recognizes that he cannot know what stuff you are made of and therefore he must treat you as an equal for fear of looking the fool at a later time. Still, I believe he respects the room as much as the occupant." he admitted, gesturing at the Ward Room itself.

"The office before the officer." she said.

"Just so. Always offer men and women respect until they themselves make such respect undeserving or absolute."

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She sipped from the glass he handed her, mulling over his words much as she savored the taste of the wine, her senses catagorizing every part. "You make very good sense of the situation sir. But still," She paused to down the last few sips of her glass. "If my opinion were to be asked . . . I would play his own game of disguise. Act as if we trust him implicity, but let no man be without weapon, well hidden though it may be." She looked up at her captain. "Friends can be the worst kind of betrayers, after all." She said with a simple earnestness. "Look at Judas."

[William Brand]

"Well...we shall see what comes of dinner." William said, standing, and he paced before the shuttered windows. He did this mostly to stretch his legs again, but he also liked to think aloud when he walked. He paused once in a turn. "You would look lovely in the gown from the ball at La Margarita."

Tudor looked surprised. William continued.

"We shall except this invitation to dine, and furthermore, we shall undo the Lieutenant with finery and unexpected turns, whatever his intentions may be. What will he think of you when you arrive aboard the Navarra in the dress of a woman when he has seen you so recently in the formality of the Ward Room? He won't know what to make of you."

"I would like that very much." she said with a curt nod.

"Furthermore, I shall ask Captain Lasseter to join us. Two Captains for their one."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor smiled inwardly, apprechiating how the captain thought. Much the same way she would have in the situation. In fact, she planned to excel at the scheme he concocted. "A very excellent idea. And sir, may I have permission to go ashore since I am off duty. I consider it bad luck to wear the same gown two times in a row." She said by way of explination with an impish smile.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

William smiled to think of Tudor in her new finery, and touching that thought, he fetched out her portion of the Ilex Fortune. She received this with a look of delight, for she could now spend with less reserve in her upcoming purchases. William shook his head to see the wheels turning in her mind.

"If he proves to be harmless, let us not vex the poor fellow past friendship, Miss Smith."

She nodded, but her smile remained wicked. She left the room in this mood and William began his pacing again, content to keep his thoughts unspoken for awhile. He wondered on many things from the Maastricht to Mister Pew. This last thought brought him to another one that he did not like, for the mystery of it bothered him. He went to the surgeon's quarters to satisfy what he hoped was his mistake and an unnecessary curiousity, but she was not there. Her cabin was utterly empty. He also checked the surgery, where he found Meg Wardell and Murin McDonough at the work of making uniforms.

"Ladies." he said, dismissing himself again.

He crossed the passageway to the galley. Here he found Constance at work preparing the evening supper. She was up to her elbows in flour and singing something that was part hymn and part love song.

"Constance."

"Sah. How are ya, sah?"

"I'm well enough. May I ask if either you or the cook have seen our Doctor of late?"

"No, sah. She's taken no meals, sah." Constance nodded, and hesitated in adding. "I've not seen her these..."

"Three days." He finished. "Aye. Carry on."

William went out into the sun and he knew what constance was thinking. Half of the crew might be thinking it by now. The Doctor had been gone almost three full days. Meg, relatively unharmed, but in need of reassurance had lingered in the sick ward with no more company than Ajayi. William now noted that even Ajayi had gone out, for he found him on the weatherdecks, his face turned to the sun. The poor man's bandages looked frightfully unmanaged. Even Pew, vital as he was to the crew, had to be rowed ashore in the Doctor's absence.

William tried to be sympathetic in his reasoning, but he wasn't feeling generous, despite the sale of the Maastricht.

"Where is my Doctor?" he growled. "Where is my Doctor...?"

Seven bells of the Afternoon Watch

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin worked in the surgery ward with Meg as "apprentice" of sorts. She needed little direction and helped Murin to keep focused but, try as she may Murin could not clear her mind of the two men she had spent time with yesterday. She played it through her mind again and again determining once again that the only thing she had done wrong was letting herself to get carried away with the fantasy of a relationship with Alder. Nathan was a good friend but she was not at fault for jolting his heart. He did not see things as they had happened that day. His perception was skewed and would remain so until she had a chance to speak with him. She was sure now that Nathan thought she would not spend the afternoon with him because she had made plans with Alder not Jenny.

Murin thought on Jenny for a moment and smiled, she liked Jenny. There were some things they did not share. Something about Miss Ashcombe's home life was less than perfect and Murin did not press the issue. Murin had her secrets also. Yet, they always seemed to find something to talk about. Jenny would have Murin tell her again and again about the simple things of ship life and of how they came to possess three ships. The challenge from the British vessel and the resulting battle. Captain Brands strategy and the luck that was with them that day. The battle, her fear, and the falling of the colors after Tudor had struck her cutlass through the rope that held it aloft. Murin would sing the praises of the captains and crew and how the men, most out of respect some by signed contract, accepted the women on board as equals. Together the two women were able to forget the trials that life on land had dealt them. Somehow a friendship had formed and Murin wondered if she would ever see the lass again once they set sail. Perhaps letters. Perhaps whomever she had teaching her reading and writing could help her write letters to Jenny. She had spoken to Alder of lessons, and again, her mind fell to Alder, Nathan and her current predicament.

Nathan was her friend, there was no regret in that. She held him dear. The only regret was that Nathan was now avoiding her. She had seen Alder outside the wardroom door and had smiled at him but was unsure if he had seen her. Murin was happy to have her work away from the Alder and Nathan for now. Perhaps once the light had faded making her sewing imposable she would see one or both of them in the galley. Until then she would keep stitching, by days end her stitches would likely number in the thousands. Three, four, five, nay, SIX THOUSAND!

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Having stood by and attended to his other duties while the gun crews had gone through their paces, Bill felt that itch in his blood. The itch to keep his skills sharp that only the fighting man knows. When the crews had finished Flint kindly requested some berth on the weather deck and collected the Marines currently aboard for drills. He had no real authority to do so, but the other Marines were more than happy to defer to his wisdom and experience. This pleased Bill for it was his intent that they be the best fighters that they could. He also invited any other interested parties among the crew to join them, and a few did. He drilled them in musketry, and the nasty business of taking another's life up close a personal during a boarding. Again he concentrated on the axe and the knife which, wielded in tandem, produced efficient if brutal results. He was a harsh task master, almost as harsh as the Captain running gunnery drills, but he was no less encouraging. Many who had thought themselves more than capable of handling themselves in a scrap were in awe of the Redlegs' knowledge of the martial arts. He was with them, teaching them in body, but in his mind he was back in Akwesasne* Which suddenly brought him back to the issue of the Sachem's tomahawk. He abruptly ended the drills and politely dismissed them back to their duties. He went below decks to his berth and withdrew the hatchet from his sea chest. If this was here in Martinique then the great peace was broken. He had to find a way to guide the fleet back to the colonies. He sat pondering when he remembered a land grant in Manhattan amongst the Ilex fortune. When the time was right he would approach the Captains on the matter. He replaced the weapon back amongst his belongings and returned to the deck.

* Akwesasne is the Mohawk word for their traditional homelands which once stretched from Eastern Ontario in the north to upstate New York in the south as well as included parts of what is now Quebec and Vermont. Today most Mohawks reside near Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence river. Interestingly the original name of the tribe is not Mohawk but Kanien'kehá:ka which means "People of the Flint". There are various theories as to why the Mohawk were called the "Mohawk" by Europeans. One theory holds that the name "Mohawk" was bestowed upon the tribe by German mercenaries and immigants settled near Fort Orange in Mohawk Valley that were fighting with the British troops, who, mistaking by a personal pidgin in relation with others they had intertwined, derived the well known pronunciation for the Kanien'kehá:ka tribe as "Moackh". An English language corruption of pronunciation turned the original Mohawk Valley German-Dutch pidgin of the Kanien' kehá:ka name into the current pronunciation of "Mohawk". A widely-accepted theory is that the name is a combination of the Narraganset word for "man-eaters" (Mohowawog), the Unami term for "cannibal-monsters" (Mhuweyek), an Algonquin term for "ate living creatures" (Mohowaugs), and the Ojibwe term for "bears" (Mawkwas) .

The Dutch referred to the Mohawk as Maquasen, or Maquas. To the French they were Agniers, Maquis, or simply Iroquois.

[Silkie McDonough]

Nothing further was mentioned and once free of the town they began the climb into the hills, the ascent was not steep but it was gradual and she was long used to climbing the rigging and yet this was a diffrent sort of climb and left her nearly breathless upon reaching the top.  Alan too had not remained unaffected and Treasure glanced to him a smile born of mischief, eyes alight with it before she whirled about ,arms out spinning like a child’s top.

“Is it not marvelous, It is like you can see for miles, like on the Dog but no swaying.”  Then she looked disappointed “I miss the swaying.”  Then she laughed and pointed out the things she could see on the ship at night that way he could view them and watch for the changes she had spoken briefly of.  Alan of course was polite and listened to her excited chatter and moved to sit beneath an aged tree who branches sketched intriguing shadows over the ground.

Argus of course left to explore and finally Treasure flopped down beside Alan then rolled onto her stomach head resting upon folded arms “Tis beautiful is it not.  Tis hard to believe that there are so many places and all of them different.” Her voice was quiet, reflective.

"Beautiful." Alan looked directly at Miss Tribbiani who lay near, able to view both the view and her companion. "I was afeared I'd run out a polite words with ye lady." Treasure raised an eyebrow and looked askance in his direction, he snickered. "When first we met you were so closed and distant up in yer tower no one could get in." Treasure turned away, closing him off again but he continued. "Then I saw you in town, dressed as a lady with that lad and when you smiled in his presence and I saw ya lookn at im like e'were someone dear t'you and I thought, she ain't so cold after all. I'm a simple man Treasure, I don't know much but there's one thing I learned in my father's tavern that has served me well. I know people. I know thems that got heart" Argus had returned momentarily to check on the lass and was trotting off again. "Apparently so does that dog." Alan turned once again to the sea. "Aye, I miss the swaying o'the ship."

[Black Syren]

She was completely flustered by his words and plucked helplessly at the long blades of grass and finally rolled so she could sit and watch as Argus trotted back into the trees. Cold and aloof, is that how others saw her, as some fairytale princess locked in some tower? It hurt to be thought of so, but it was better to hurt than to get close to another and watch them killed as her step-father had her beloved half-brother.

She let his words pass about the swaying of the ship and took a deep breath then confessed somewhat “Jacques. The young lad’s name is Jacques and he reminded me of my half-brother. He was showing me around town.” She left out that he had helped her when she had been attacked, the same attack that had summoned forth Argus. Randomly she chose and plucked a bright red wildflower and lifted it to her nose to catch it’s scent and sneezed instead.

The wall she kept about herself once more partially erected, a safety precaution if he had to guess, he could see the shadows that haunted her within her eyes, and though she had shoved aside his words he could see how flustered she had become. There was more to her than she presented to the world and he wondered if she was a mystery that would ever be solved. She was like a maze open and forthright then you ran into a wall and had to start again. But he was learning what buttons pushed would see her back in her tower, he laughed as she sneezed and watched color rush to her cheeks but as she faced him could once more see the mischief in her eyes.

“Seems as much as I like them they do not find favor with me.” Then she glanced up seeking Argus’s whereabouts. A keening cry drew her gaze upward and she watched a hawk circle about them plummet to the earth and drew in her breath and held it, then eyes filled with laughter swung back to him, “Did you see her! She hunts here everyday, she must have a nest nearby.” She grinned and then groaned hearing Argus barking and rolled to her feet. “Ill go see what has him all a dither. I’ll be right back.” That said she scampered off calling to Argus.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

After taking a quick inventory of the contents of the small trunk in her quaters, Tudor made a mental list of items she would need to purchase. She had planned to make do with the accessoires she had, they were kept in good condition, but with the Captian's bequeathment of her portion of the Ilex fortune, her desire to remain frugal after the gold she layed down before coming back to the ship last time, dimmed considerably.

As soon as she reached the city, she strode purposefully through the streets, soaking up the late afternoon sun. Having noted it's location and browsing it's wares on her earlier excursions, Tudor had no trouble finding herself in the Tailor's small shop. She looked around the room, taking in all the fabrics and patterns, as she waited for the attention of the shop attendent who was packaging some garments for a previous customer. Just as she was greeted and pleasentries were exchanged, a bold colour caught Tudor's alert eye from behind the counter where a shop girl was folding a garment away. "That dress. . . ." Tudor said immedietly motioning to it.

The apprentice that was attending her turned and his expression. "That dress, miss?" He scanned over Tudor's apperence with little subtlety or respect. "Miss, that dress was hand made by my master to the latest fashion for a a gentlewoman recently over from England but then she refused it. Insisted it was meant to have a train and that the hue of purple looked ill on her." He paused from his bragging over the dress's qualities to once again look at Tudor. "It is very expensive."

Tudor did not even flinch. "Perfect. I'll have it, although I imagine there will be some small alterations to be made, as God did not deign grant me a fashionable height. I need it to be finished by evening and if you cannot have it done, then I shall take it and do it myself. And as to the other objections, well, as much as I love trains on my gowns it would be too much of a bother to fuss with at the dinner party I am going to," She paused to silently laugh at the mental picture of trying to go aboard a ship with yards of fabric cascading around her feet. "And I am told I look very well in purple, indeed." She smiled at the young man's stunned expression, hearing a posh accent and a gentlewoman's words come out of a woman wearing a sailor's grubby clothes. "Let me see the material." Too stunned to argue, the apprentice motioned for the girl to bring the dress over for Tudor to inspect. "The stitching will do. I have seen better," She had even stitched better herself, but that was extranious information. "But one cannot be too picky when pressed for time. And the silk is indeed of fine quality. Name the price." The boy told her an amount far beyond what it was worth, still an attempt to get her to give up her intentions of it's purchase, to which she scoffed and named a price much nearer the garments true worth, but still higher then the price she was sure was quoted when the gown was comissioned. To punctuate her offer, she scooped out the amount in gold from her bag and laid it down upon the counter.

She left half an hour later, after her measurments had been taken, commission paid for the alterations and tip left for the apprentice to speed his stitching, with intentions to return in an hour to collect the dress.

"Now, onto the jewlers." She said something between a grimmace and a smirk on her face.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Heron

Dorian had done all he could think of in preparation of Captain Brands’ visit to his little ship. As he stopped to survey the wardroom, he heard someone giving orders of a sort. Dorian furrowed his brow and set about heading on deck. As he opened the hatch he heard the familiar voice of Mister Flint. He did not exit into the sunlight, but instead watched from his slightly hidden place. Mister Flint had taken it upon himself to further the instruction of hand to hand combat to the Heron’s marines, and other crew. Dorian noted he favored the knife and axe, leaving the cutlass on the wayside. He nodded as he watched the instruction, noted the closeness if the attacks. Yes, Flint’s technique was well suited to shipboard combat. Captain Lasseter made a mental note to seek out Mister Flint later, so that he might learn some of this form himself. It also reminded him that he would need to drill the men with cutlass as well. He thought of all the different kinds of combat one would see on a vessel such as the Watch Dog and Heron; Broadsides from great guns and swivels, volleys of muskets, close range with pistols, clashing of cutlass and ha’pike, and finally this style of the Marine named Flint. He watched a moment longer and returned to the Wardroom and his quarters. He noticed the one bulkhead was quite bare and in need of something. A painting mayhaps? Or a display of arms…

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

William returned to the Ward Room between seven and eight bells to scratch a letter. He also took the time to fetch coin from the ship's lock box that he might send men ashore armed with letters and money sufficient to seek out their Doctor in whatever corner of Martinique she might be contained. The previous subtleties of her bearing, education and self guarded secrets suggested that she might be found in high places, but it was just as likely that she was secretly keeping low, suggesting very ugly places as well.

He read the letters explaining the men and their purpose several times, careful to be certain that it was sufficient to find the Doctor without causing her or them unnecessary troubles. When he was sure of the composition, he made a second copy and went out to the weatherdecks.

Ajayi approached him, even as he was ordering out the longboat, and they conversed in a mixture of gestures, limited English, Yoruban and a few sparse Arabic words. William made inquires about his health, pointing at the bandages. Ajayi was able to demonstrate that he could walk with ease and stand up straight without pain, as much a testament to his self control as to his recovery. Then Ajayi questioned the Captain with a mixture of his own Yoruban and limited Arabic about going to shore. William had difficulty following anything but the tone and gestures, but understood the name Pew more than once. William was sympathetic about Ajayi's friendship to the Master-at-Arms, but in the absence of the Doctor, he refused to let Ajayi depart the ship for the present. Ajayi did not show emotion when refused, but nodded and remained content to stand upright in sunlight.

William went over the side of the Watch Dog into the waiting longboat and crossed over to the Heron with many purposes.

Eight bells of the Afternoon Watch

First Dog Watch Begins

[Pew]

Ashore at Martinique, within the the town

Eric had left the main room within the chirurgeon's home. He had spoken with one of the women, who made her way downstairs and told him that Preston was up but not to be disturbed as he had already been laid back down to rest. Eric slammed his fist on the table as he yelled at the attending doctors. Eric made it clear he was to be alerted if Preston was awake. The two women looked at each other and nodded slowly. His point made, quickly, Eric was up and out the door.

Once outside, Eric inhaled deeply in the steamy afternoon. He needed to see that Luc, Jean and Pierre had settled in well amongst the crew of the Watch Dog. A litany of things to be done rolled through his head, one after another. He hadn't even met with Captain Lasseter about the transfer of arms to the Heron. He waited and began to think of what to be done in Preston's absence. Where to start...

Last he saw the Master-at-Arms, he was stripped. Blood and vomit trailing down his shirt and staining his slops. Quite assuredly, Preston was in the need for some new clothes. Oft, he and Eric would talk about how ridiculous the French officers would look during their dinners aboard in the ward room. Not one to hold his tongue, Pew would often ridicule the line officers below decks with the seaman. "Fekkin' foppish hounds" he would call them. "Twirl about an' dance fer yer food, eh?", he nudged Eric once as Captaine Fournier joined Captain Brand aboard the Watch Dog, bowing and introducing his crew. Eric laughed, "A right change of clothes, then Mister Pew," he said to no one in particular.

Eric travelled the wide avenues of Martinique with a purpose. Two pair of trousers, a new shirt or three, a canvas jacket to be tarred for rough weather, and maybe a waistcoat. Into each merchant's store, Eric took his time and inspected each article as if it were to be for his own brother. Brother. The sergeant at arms stopped for a moment outside the Chandlery. A wave of emotion rushed over him. Not since his own father had passed had he felt this, this, alone? Scared? He fumbled for the right feeling. Eric pulled from the small silver flask he had brought from their cabin. He wiped a single tear from his eye. Eric Franklin was bred to fight; he was known as the "Banshee" for chrissakes.

"Get ahold of yerself man. Blast it."

Aboard the Watch Dog

Jean and Luc had settled in nicely among the crew of the watch Dog. Tudor had set them each on a temporary shift with each watch, so they could learn the ins and outs of how Captain Brand's ship was run. Not new to the going's on of even the lowliest seaman aboard, Luc and Jean quickly found whom to trust and whom not to ire.

Pierre was still ready to join the pirates. Eyes growing wide at the piles of shot and kegs of powder below deck, he was ready to grasp his own cutlass and board the nearest vessel. The only weapon Jean Dorleac let him even touch, was a marlinspike. "Little Jean" Dorleac, as many of the crew began to call him, sent Pierre on the most mundane of tasks about the ship. Chipping rust from the cannon shot, sifting the pistol powder, loading the apostles for the marines, even fetching fresh water and vittles for those on watch. Miss Smith kept a close eye on the two of them, but Little Jean kept Pierre about his business to which made many of the crew smile, including the ship's steward herself.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal

First Dog Watch Begins

The crossing from the Watch Dog to the Heron was a short one, but in that small amount of time William took in the Cul du Sac Royal and its many occupants. The Navarra lay quite near, quiet but for the business of the day. Her companion ship lay just beyond, and in contrast to the relative ease of the larger vessel, the smaller one was alive with activity, repairs and salvage. Even further beyond this lay the familiar line of Fournier's proud vessel, but William could not help thinking that it looked diminished somehow, and he was at a loss to explain this feeling even to himself.

'Why have they not sent word of any kind?' he wondered, and not for the first time since arriving at Martinique.

"Captain Brand on approach!" Maurice Roche called from aloft. This was acknowledged and echoed from the weatherdecks and Captain Lasseter appeared at the rails in short order.

"What news, Cap'n?" he called from amidships.

"I've hawked the Elephant, Captain Lasseter."

"Good riddance ta her for coin."

"Aye." William agreed, and then he made a reference to Egyptian leprosy that Dorian did not understand at all. "Nevermind." William said, waving the comment away as he came alongside the Heron and hurried up the side.

"Did she pay fer her troubles?" Dorian asked as he offered his hand. William took it as he stepped over the rail and down.

"Aye" William he said finally, after looking about at the new guns of the cutter. Then he leaned towards Dorian and spoke low in confidence. "Almost, but not entirely some sixty-seven thousand small and unremarkable French livres."

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Black Syren]

Looking back to see Alan still lounging she tripped over a root and turned about managing to right herself before she fell. Muttering to herself about grace she noted the path took a downhill turn then moved uphill again and found herself running down it then back up. She could feel her lungs laboring for air after her exertions but was also highly exhilarated by the exercise, it felt good to stretch her legs.

As the woods grew denser she paused looking about waiting to hear Argus so she could better find him, The wind rustled through the tress and leaves slithered and rubbed against one another, the sound musical and intoxicating, she lifted her face to the winds and hearing Argus bark again moved down the path towards his direction.

“Argus, if you wish dinner I suggest ye hurry. Ye should not have wandered off, and ye had better not have a snake or anything that resembles such. I detest snakes, truly hate the blighters.” She knew she spoke loud but her own voice was a comfort to her and if any were about they would know she was approaching. She had no desire to stumble upon some tryst or picnic, though surely someone would be yelling at Argus if that were the case.

She whistled calling him to her and up ahead his muscular body danced from the shadows giving her a fright. Her hand went to her chest to still the savage beating and she shook her head at her own foolishness and angrily commanded that he come to her. As he barked at her then charged off she picked up a stick in a fit of temper and hurled it into the forest and began cursing stridently, eyes flashing as she stalked further inwards. “Argus, I will have yer balls if tis a snake! And I will let the cats torment ye to no end. And I’m sure I can think of other much more fitting punishments if ye do not come here. Now!”

She rolled her eyes for the dog was stubborn and grouched as she made her way towards where she had last seen him, the winds picking up heralding the onslaught of evening. Had they really been about all day? And she still wanted to shop a bit more before they had to return.

Again Argus began barking and as she closed in he shifted bumping into her shins and she fell back on her arse and went to give him her most unsightly and definitely unladylike opinions when she saw IT! A short scream and her legs went one way her arms another as she sought to rise and run at the same time for there before her was the biggest snake she had ever seen, luckily it was digesting a meal so it would not strike..she hoped. Heart racing madly she finally managed to leap to her feet and jump quite a distance from the snake where it was coiled. As Argus went again towards it she grabbed his ruff and held on for all she was worth. “Oh no! Bad! Bad Argus!” As he sat upon her foot looking completely disgusted with her she frowned and wagged her finger at him, lips parting to speak then she heard it. A soft mewling coming from the thick foliage to the left of the snake, straining to better see she could make out a small kitten. Looking high and low she finally found the poor bloke near enough to the snake to make her wonder if it’s siblings had been dinner and shuddered. Looking to Argus then to the kitten she shuddered hard “I really hate snakes.” She whispered. ‘You distract him and Ill work my way around and try and fetch the tiny shadow. Just keep him looking at you, cause if he looks at me I’m leaving him here. Lord Captain Brand is going to kill me. Really kill me. But perhaps Captain Dorian could use a young thing.” She let go of Argus and as he began to bark at the snake she started wending her way around and really had to focus her thoughts to even get near the snake.

“Do not think about it, just pretend it’s a large stick.” Her face brightened at this and she looked about for a big heavy stick and finding one listened to Argus continue baking and growling and felt ill as the snake suddenly moved. ‘Oh my..Bloody big ye are. Argus if I do not die I'm going to strangle ye.” She gripped her heavy stick and moved closer, knees bent resting on the balls of her feet and saying a quick prayer crossed herself and slowly crept nearer freezing every time the snake moved. As the snake turned to focus on here she completely lost her nerve and backed away. “Dio how can I be such a coward over a snake. I am a marine I can handle a snake.” She whispered to herself. As Argus distracted it yet again she took a deep breath and noted her hands shaking hard and gripped the stick till her knuckles were white and moved in again.

As the snake shifted and turned to face her she swung hard with the stick hitting it in the head and managing to lift and toss it some few feet away. Hurrying forwards she lifted the black ball of fur and shaking hard, body covered in a cold sweat, huskily called to Argus who trotted to her and quickly did they leave, though she did keep a weather eye for more snakes. "I hate snakes. I hate them!” The ball of black fur cuddled to her still pounding heart. "The snake did not kill me but Captain Brand sure as bloody 'ell will." She managed to gasp as tightened lungs still refused to work, " Aye He will refuse both of us shore leave if I bring home strays. Still mayhap Captain Dorian will take her on." She flipped the kitten over and grimaced.."Him..Take him on. If not taverns always need good mousers. Right Argus!' She still shivered, and looked at Argus, "We are going to have a nice long chat you and I. Oh Aye..this penchant for trouble we seem to get into has to go. So we need to agree that neither of us will find trouble." Alan laughed having approached to see what was taking so long. "Talking to the dog eh? Let me know what he says." he was clearly trying to keep his amusement at bay and finally took note of the wild look of fear in her eyes. He stepped closer and she shook her head.."Snake, and this." She held out the black kitten for his inspection.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Onboard the Heron

Dorian’s jaw had gone slack at the number William had spoken. His eyes opened very wide. A moment later he found his voice. It first came out as a raspy sound. He cleared his throat and began again.

“Mary mudder a God… Sixty… Sixty-seven…. Thousand? William… Why tha’s… How… How did th’ Elephant fetch such a price?”

William just chuckled and walked past Dorian, past him and into the after section of the Cutter to the wardroom. Dorian followed, still with the question on his lips. Once they were in the confines of the aftercabin, Dorian spoke louder.

“Come now, man! I would have expected half that and been happy… Again, you amaze me with a hidden talent… I can imagine you played a fine game a chess with those merchants in wont of such a vessel…”

He walked to the table and picked up the bottle he had placed there earlier. Squeaking out the cork, he poured two cups and set the bottle in its place and handed one cup to William and took up the other.

“Slainte, William… May we ne’er thirst for anythin’… Whate’er we call our wealth…”

Both men drank their cups dry and banged them on the table.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Heron

William just continued smiling, more glad of their good fortune now that he could watch it dawn on another face. It revived his tired spirits and made his passing worries seem trivial. Dorian made to fill William's glass a second time, but William waved it off with a shake of his head. William had imbibed several times already with the money counters, the sugar baron and his Steward and his head was swimming from too little food and water.

Dorian helped himself to a second glass by way of congratulations. The sale of the Dutch built fluyt represented a shift of weight both metaphorical and in a very real sense, substantial. The responsibility of maintaining the extra deck would soon pass to some other and his fellows and they would be free to chart new courses. New ambitions.

"The Heron has an admirable gun deck. You shou..." William began, and Dorian stirred him back to the subject at hand with force.

"The Maastricht, man! Sixty-seven thousand..."

"Sixty-six thousand, seven hundred and nineteen." William said, his tone falsely understated, almost apologetic. "I regret that it isn't mo..."

"Ya regret nothing." Dorian corrected, and he shook his head as if hearing the sum for the first time. "Sixty-six thousand."

"Don't lay to much credit at my door, Captain. The greater part of the bargain had its birth ashore. Monsieur Goddu is as shrewd as he is...voluble. The man speaks his mind as openly as a town crier all a fuddle." William rubbed the heel of his hand into one tired eye and shook his head. "He laid out a course for me as plain as favorable wind...long winded as he was. Charpentier was his absolute obverse in conversation, though he nodded when appropriate. I pity Monsieur Dawnay or Bellemare when they come proposing."

Dorian made a dismissive sound. "Modest to a fault. You forget what I've seen ya do with the French, ya dockside haggler."

"I may have exaggerated some of the fluyt's finer qualities." William conceded.

"Made her keel a spars length longer in th' telling." Dorian agreed.

"And..." William continued, ignoring this exaggeration on his explainations. "...Rummy is due her part. Let us not forget her and Hawks."

"I'll remember due gratitude all th' way down to th' ship's cat for sixty-six thousand livres." Dorian said enthusiastically, raising his half drained glass a little.

William nodded. "Sixty-six thousand, seven hundred and nineteen livres freshly minted from France...and unclipped, I'll wager."

"Here, here." Dorain toasted, and he drank down the rest of the glass with a grin as wide and open as their prospects.