The Watch Dog

[Pew]

"Ah Mister Flint, were y' ears burnin' mate?" Preston asked.

Dorian swept his hand at the table offering Bill a seat.

"Do tell Mister Flint."

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Flint smiled awkwardly as he struggled to find the joke. Then he realized that Mr. Pew had probably just asked that same question, joined in the laughter and sat. Leaning forward he helped himself to some bread and cheese, and between mouthfuls he offered his thoughts on how best to conduct business in St. Pierre.

"A large band of armed men roaming the town and knocking door te door would likely do little te endear us te their most catholic majesties. What I propose is we brake up the marines inta pairs, the majority of which should concentrate on searching the countryside around the town unless I miss my guess and Den Oven's foolish enough to try and lay low at a common house. Te avoid tippin' our hand we'll release the pairs from the ship one per bell after we make landfall. Arm 'em with a pistol an cutlass each and three rounds additional shot an powder te keep from seemin' more than men on shoreleave but te leave 'em sufficiently equipped te handle Den Oven in case he's picked up a few more friends. You, me, n' Brocke can handle askin' about town, maybe take Harold with us."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Deck of the Lucy

Earlier, Miss Ashcombe had been taken in by the proceedings of a ship heading out to sea. There were shouts and movement, all with a purpose. Some of the men rushing past were thin and gaunt, perhaps having come from the local streets or prison, but even so there seemed a celebratory mood as they broke the bonds of shore. She felt a lurch in her stomach as the splash of the sweeps began to move them away from what had been her home. She had heard St. Pierre mentioned and supposed they were sailing there for some purpose. Jenny had never been to that port and assumed that mayhaps they were to take on supplies not available in St. Louis, mayhaps lumber which was more plentiful on the higher cliffs of the Northwestern shore.

As they moved into open water, the ship's roll became more pronounced and a breeze tugged at the hems of the slops she wore. She held a hand to her hat and looked skyward as the Captain gave orders. Looking up she saw many men on the yardarms uncoiling lines and working the gathered material there. At once there was another order and the sails unfurled dropping towards the deck.

Miss Ashcombe stood transfixed as the ship seemed to pause in silence. Even the wind seemed to dissapear. Then in one splendid moment the canvas billowed and snapped taut. The masts creaked and spray christened them as the ship sliced into the swells. Leaning to and fro as the wind found it. A shout came up from the men and she found herself laughing at the splendor.

Suddenly she was passed by two young men bearing coffee into the ward room. Reality brought home, Jenny rushed to the galley hoping Mr. Marsh would have food ready for her to take to those waiting and so to redeem her position. Shortly she bore a second plate of fruit, bread, salted fish and apologies. Mr. Flint after he'd been introduced, tucked into the repast as they continued their conversation in more hushed tones. Jenny retreated to the stern bench near enough to be available should the officers require her, yet far enough to allow the exculsivity of their conversation. She watched the wake of the Lucy trail behind them and the gulls wheeling just off the stern. Seeing the shore line of Martinique pass by for the first time since her arrival five years ago gave her to recall forgotten memories of her first passage..

[William Brand]

Ciaran bore Miss Tribbiani to the surgery with the help of Richard Tollervy and Loures Loerwairt. Then he fetched hot water back to her from the galley, that he might sooth the pain of the sting. It was neither a cure nor a great boon for the pain, but it did remove the edge of the discomfort enough that she was returned to her former self a bit.

"Cap'n'll not allow ya off the ship again." Ciaran said, shaking his head as he mopped her brow.

[Black Syren]

Self-conscious as Ciaran tended her but only thus for the pain felt as if she had been flayed and dipped in lye soap had her gritting her teeth. “He….need not….know.” She managed to choke out. She gripped the bedding, then loosed the right hand with a cry. Ciaran reached for her hand and studied the welts rising upon her palm, welts already upon her lower back, her hip and her legs.

“Not as bad as it could have been but it still is not good. You were lucky.” He grunted “And there is no way you can keep this from the Captain, think ye he will not a notice lass?”

“One…can only…hope.” She stiffened as he continued laying hot compresses to her skin and turned her face into the bedding hiding tears. Her voice when it next came was muffled and a hoarse croak more than hinting of the pain she suffered "Just help me get back to my post afore he comes."

Ciaran studied the welts already noting the fiery lines snaking from the initial wounds he was also certain that already fever was setting in for her skin was rosily flushed.

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Lucy

After handling the lines for the launch of the Lucy Benjamin Quigley helped set the tack. Already he could feel his stomach starting to churn. He looked to the horizon, that would work for now but soon he knew his head would be between the rails on the leeward side. Had he known before breakfast that they were to set sail he would have taken heed and not eaten breakfast. He knew his limitations after so many years. Every time he set sail after even a few days on shore he would be sick for several days riding the waves once more. He had been on Martinique for more days than he could recall. His only comfort at this moment, Dyer was already hung over the rail retching.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy

Dorian Let the Master-at-Arms have his say and nodded.

“Very much what I had in mind Mister Flint… But a brace of pistols per man, and all at once. Firstly, I’ll be seekin’ out the local governor and military. We may be under the flag of France, but I don’t want this ta be misconstrued. And I don’t want ta spent til nightfall with this search. I’ll give til the end o’ th’ Afternoon Watch, then I want everyone back aboard. By then I hope ta see The “Dog come inta port here.”

Preston and Bill nodded at what the Captain said. Dorian took a drink and settled back some before turning to another matter.

So Mister Flint… Ye’ve taken a liking ta have Mister Broke as th’ Sergeant-ta-Arms, aye?”

“Aye Sah, I find him likeable and up to the task.”

Dorian turned to Preston.

“Have you any complaints ta voice about Mister Brocke, Master Whittin’ford?”

Preston thought a moment and cocked his head to the side as he thought, then slowly nodded.

“Seems ta be a right fine lad… I got no objections…”

Captain Lasseter nodded.

“Very well… Mister Flint, you may tell Mister Brocke of his appointment ta Sergeant. I believe he’s on th’ same watch as you, meanin’ he’ll have ta shift ta th’ opposite watch, and you need ta find a new marine ta replace him. I’ll leave you to that.”

Bill stood and knuckled his forehead.

“Aye Sah! Thank You Sah! I’ll inform Brocke right away!”

“Mister Flint, take your ease… Pass word for Mister Brocke! Have him report to the Ward Room!”

4 August 1704, Six Bells of the ForeNoon Watch

Larboard Watch on Duty

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - At the docks

Captain Brand returned to company both great and small. Turcotte was there and Durand had returned, both men standing at a distance indifferent to one another. Also, the Particular Governor of Martinique and acting Governor General, Nicolas de Gabaret was present in all the finery of his station. He had with him some attendants, servants and not a few personal soldiers. Added to all of these was the lingering detachment from the fort, so in addition to the many dock laborers and men and women of the Lucy and Watch Dog, the docks were very crowded.

William made a point to present himself before the Particular Governor. Nicholas de Gabaret proved as cordial as ever, despite the circumstances which required his presence.

"A bad business to be sure, Capitaine." he said soberly, then added. "My humble condolences."

William wondered why he should be consoled over the escape of den Oven, as the matter fell at the feet of the French now that the Dutch Captain was no longer his prisoner, but this wonder was short lived, for William noted Durand's dour expression and a cart which sat close at hand. William made his way to Durand and the imposing Frenchman explained in a direct and solemn tone that they had discovered the body of a man.

This gave William pause, but he approached the cart and pulled back the wet and bloodied cloth which hid the corpse. The smell and visage which greeted William was that of Klaas Scymmelpenninck. William's constitution was placed in check by the stench and horror of the man's remains, for he was already foully bloated and pale from what appeared to be a prolonged night spent underwater. The man's head was also badly beaten, so much so, that had William not known to expect one of his men under the cloth, he might not have recognized the slain Dutchman at all. The skull was dashed in a little and the eyes were milky and swollen. William could not remember now if Klaas had been possessed of a good, even teeth, but he would not soon forget the smashed mouth which greeted him now.

"Your man, Capitaine?" Durand asked simply.

"Aye. This was Klaas Scymmelpenninck." William returned, his nose wrinkling at the smell. "Where was he...?"

"The maid of an ale house...Le Cavalier...discovered the body in the well of the establishment." Durand explained with the practiced art of a man used to giving such direct explanations. "It was...the taste of the water..." His voice trailed a bit and William shuddered despite the full sunlight which covered all the docks.

"I believe that he was beaten and pushed headlong into the well alive. His lungs were full of water."

William closed his eyes a moment, then called for men to bear Scymmelpenninck's body aboard the frigate, that the men might see the treachery of den Oven and for the purpose of burying him at an appointed time later in the day. It was not surprising that all of the volunteers who bore him hence were Dutchman who had known the man, but as he was borne, every man and women removed their caps and coverings.

This formality accomplished, William stood in conference for a time with the Lieutenant, Durand and the Governor. William was informed that a soldier under Turcotte's charge had returned from the place described by the coachman to confirm that three horses had been rented for a cross country ride to points North and West of St. Louis. The livery man had also confirmed the appearance of den Oven, albeit a general description of the fugitive. According to the same man, the three riders had ridden off at once for points unknown, apart from the guessed direction.

The ale house grounds, where Scymmelpenninck's body had been disposed of so rudely, lay somewhere along a rough line just beyond the livery where it was assumed that den Oven had come upon William's men and slain the Dutchman. With no other bodies discovered it was impossible to say what had become of Joshua Wellings and Ajayi Abiodun, but no man would suggest their part in the treachery aloud.

"My apologies, Capitaine." Governor de Gabaret said respectfully during that first generous pause in the conversation. "Your men have been much maligned."

William accepted this graciously, though his thoughts were elsewhere, and while Durand and the Governor continued in conversation, most of it in French, William began making and changing plans for the coming hours. He was, however, not so distracted by the moment that he failed to notice how the officers of the Navarra watched all which transpired. They stood at the bow of the Spanish ship and with and without spyglasses, observed the many men in conference.

Then after some deliberation it was agreed that Durand would use those skills and resources open to him to seek out the whereabouts of the bodies or persons of Joshua Wellings and Ajayi Abiodun, taking some three hand picked men of William's choosing to assist him. Turcotte and his men would go with the Particular Governor overland along the course of the riders to facilitate in all official capacities concerning the escaped men. It was also agreed that Captain Brand would bring the Watch Dog up the coast of Martinique, so that if the location of hiding or departure were discovered, he might assist in the pursuit of den Oven and his coconspirators in the company of the Lucy. With all of them in agreement, each man went about his immediate and pressing business.

Just before seven bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Black Syren]

Ciaran shook his head and turned away as a knock sounded upon the door Mr. Tollervy and Mr. Loerwairt stood without with basins of more hot water. Treasure lay trembling upon the narrow bunk, the raised lesions seemed like ripe welt marks from a lash rather than a Man O War. Knowing Treasure liked her privacy he bid the lads wait and pulled the door to then moved a sheet over her lightly and watched the muscles of her back tense as the sheet touched upon the welts.

Hurrying back to the door he ushered the lads in with the heated water and asked if the Captain had come aboard yet to which both men shook their heads. As they left Ciaran went back to attend Treasure who seemed lost to the pain and unaware of anything else. However he was surprised as he heard her whisper “How is Argus?”

“He fares better than ye. Richard and Loures are keeping an eye upon the dog.” He watched her shiver and as she turned her head restlessly towards him that her teeth were gritted. “Be ye cold lass?”

“Aye..and yet it burns. I was stupid was I not?” Her voice tight with tears she refused to shed. “A wee bit.” He murmured as he lowered the sheet and once more treated the wounds to hot compresses.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Heron

Moments later Nathaniel Brocke knocked and entered the Wardroom. He stood at attention and remained Silent, not daring to even look at the officers before him. Captain Lasseter looked him over. He was of medium build and reasonably tall for his seventeen years. Finally, Dorian spoke.

“Mister Brocke… Seems th’ Master-ta-Arms has taken notice of you… Tells me you’ve got th’ makin’s of a fine marine… or better.”

Brocke’s brow wrinkled for a moment and looked as if he was going to speak, but his face cleared and he remained silent.

“Go on Mister Flint… Tell ‘im…”

Mister Flint stood and walked around Mister Brocke, looked to the Captain and Master who both nodded. He put a critical look on his face and an attitude to match.

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

The noon hour was almost upon the Watch Dog when Pascal and Manus returned from their search to points North and East of St. Louis. They were unhappy to report any discovery, but unhappier still when they learned of Scymmelpenninck's demise and further evidence of den Oven's escape. William thanked them both for their efforts and sent them to the galley for fare and respite.

William was also informed of Miss Tribbiani's tribulation, but with no one yet aboard to tend to her, she was left in the ministrations of Ciaran, who proved as capable as some and more than others for the moment.

Soon after learning of this, Lieutenant Roldán De la Cruz arrived with the long expected letter from Capitán Avendano. The Spanish Captain had finally come to ask Captain Brand and his men to escort the Navarra safely to Trinidad, and almost too late. William sent back word again that he would meet with Captain Lasseter and discuss the matter at St. Pierre, but that he was of a mind to go with them.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve had rushed to treat the rest of the most seriously wounded patients while she explained to Father Thomas the reason for her sudden departure from this church and this island. He had looked stricken before he managed to recover himself somewhat, and was kind enough not to try to dissuade her from her decision. In return for the horribly sudden revocation of her much needed services, she offered to donate all that was left behind in her apartment to the church to use, distribute, or sell as they saw fit.

Waving for the last time to the kind Father and his humble parish, Maeve hurried home as fast as she could in the company of 2 teenage boys from the church with Miss Smith in tow as well. In a short time, she was home, breathlessly explaining everything to Briar, even as she started separating items she would take and those that would now belong to the church.

Briar looked stunned, not seeming to know what to say as her friend flew around the apartment in flurried haste. "And there's one other very important thing", Maeve added, stopping for a moment now to approach her friend with a smile and face flushed with heat, excitement and exertion. "You are to come with me, if you choose. You will have free passage and are to room with me. We will have private accommodations, you and I", she added, stepping in close now to grab up BriarRose' hands into her own. "And you...you can escape this island and slip away quietly from those pursuing you", she finished, her face now looking askance.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

"Mr. Brocke," Flint said quietly " your skills as a fighting man have surpassed all my expectations for the marines. Indeed te a degree as such that it places you above your peers in merit. Your arms are the most well kept of the marines, save my own of course."

Flint cracked a half smile which disappeared before Brocke had a chance to lose his composure and return it.

"You are a fine soldier and any commander would be happy te have ya. But I'm wonderin' do ya have it in ya te command yerself?"

Brocke looked confused "Sah?" he replied

"What I'm proposin' Mr. Brocke is te name ya my Sergeant-at-Arms, and what I'm askin' is are ya up to it?'

"I believe so Sah"

"Believe!?," Bill thundered " there's no room for doubts in this line of work, either you are or you aren't now which be it?"

"Or don't ya know Mr. Brocke? I've just said an awful lot of nice things about ya te the Cap'n here, don't prove me for a liar."

"Then'll a'cept the position sah"

"No Brocke, what ya will do is prove I've chosen correctly. As of now the job is yours on two conditions. First you'll pick and train your replacement seeing as how you'll be taking command of the Starboard Watch marines, and that leaves me a man short. And he'd best be at least half as good as you when yer done with him. Second ya need te show me yer stuff in St. Pierre. Accomplish all this and the post shall remain yours. Now in the mean time you'll move yer berth next to mine in the armory understand? Good. Now if the Cap'n has nothing else for ya, yer dismissed."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of the Lucy

Jenny continued to take in the changing shoreline, however a portion of her attention remained on the ward room table, should it's patrons require small beer or further repast.

A young man was called to their review. It seemed at first he was to be reprimanded, but from what she could discern the news was instead good. Relieved that she would witness no wrath in such close quarters, Jenny returned her gaze and a slight smile to the ribbons of sand lacing tree and rock as the Lucy navigated Martinique's coast.

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - At Martinique

Alain Roux took a a full day's earnings, indeed all of the money which he possessed, and bought himself a good pair of used shoes. Though old, they were in good shape and well oiled; the shoes of a working man. He had considered buying a pair of new shoes, but had found the idea pretentious and a not a little foolish, for he wanted to portray what he was. A sailor.

There wasn't much coin left after the shoes were purchased, but he managed a second hand monmouth cap and a better shirt than he had owned in months, though of third rate cloth. He bore these to a stream which fed into the bay, using the last of the soap he had borrowed from a maid with pretty grey eyes that he might bath himself. He was careful to set aside his good sailor's knife and a horn comb that a cousin had once given him long ago.

Now, washed, dressed, determined and with hat literally in hand, he made his way towards the throng of men loading the privateer frigate to see if the English captain there would take another Frenchman as crew.

Between seven and eight bells of the Forenoon Watch

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose stood still looking at Meave’s flushed cheeks as she finished telling her the news of Captain Brand’s offer.

“Well, now, what da ya think?” Maeve asked BriarRose.

“I…I…Meave, are you sure? I mean….this is so sudden? I don’t know what to say.”

“Briar this is yer chance to escape. Please say ya’ll come with me.”

Looking at Maeve, BriarRose laughed out loud, “Aye, Maeve, you can count on me to go with you.” Then giving her a big hug, she continued, “Well then we best get ourselves packed and ready to go.”

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

The Forenoon Watch was drawing to a close when Alain Roux was brought before Captain Brand. William surveyed the man up and down and was impressed by the overall countenance and demeanor of him. Monsieur Roux was all but bronzed for his time in the sun and looked well worn from hard labor. His white hair was a bit misleading, for the man was not old, but neither was he young. He was thin for a working man, but proved strong enough to attack a few simple tasks that William put to him. William's sole hesitation lay in the man's seemingly brief command of Engllish, so William was cautious to take on one more man who could not fully communicate with the crew. He devised, there and then, a final test that would accomplish some of his unfinished errands and see what a few of his new recruits might do when instructedt.

William called for Christophe Lefevre, Thomas Crips and Richard Tollervy. He introduced the three men to Alain Roux, whom he explained had just joined the Watch Dog. Alain beamed to be introduced so and made no effort to hide his pleasure at the appointment. He was however surprised by the stark contrast of the three men before him. Christophe Lefevre was a young man of very dark hair who spoke only French. Richard Tollervy was nearly the same age as the Captain, but taller and of obvious English origin. Thomas Crips was the most striking of all, as he was much older than anyone else present, being grey, withered and by all appearances, blind. Still, he took each man's hand in turn.

"Mister Tollervy." William called.

"Aye, Sah."

"Time is short."

"Aye, Sah."

"I want you to take these men with you for the purpose of buying hammock and gear for Mister Roux, a fiddle for Mister Crips, and an English Bible for Mister Lefevre." Alain looked grateful, Christophe looked confused and the light and smiled which crossed the face of Thomas looked almost like sight restored.

"Aye, Sah." Richard returned, smiling to see the ship's 'soon to be fiddler' so happy at the idea of an instrument to play.

"Also, you are to fetch back some birds for the 'Dog."

"Birds, Sah?" Richard asked and did not seem to understand this command at first, for many chickens had already been brought aboard the frigate. William did not explain. Instead he waited to see if the Richard would comprehend given a moment's pause, and indeed after a moment, the idea seemed to dawn on the former accipitrary. "Oh! Aye, Sah! Very good, Sah. Shall they be messengers or...hunters, Sah?"

"Perhaps both, but messengers first, if you please."

"Aye, Sah. I'll do what I can, Sah." Richard agreed. "But...the Bible, Sah...?"

"As a French Catholic, Mister Lefevre is no doubt familiar with the many important passages of the Good Book, but...as he is not familiar with the English language, we shall endeavor to teach him with a familiar text. He will therefore purchase himself an English Bible, if you please."

"I shall see that he does, Sah."

"Very good, Mister Tollervy. Please see them all returned within two hours. I'll not wait further."

"Aye, Sah."

Just before eight bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy

The Captain looked at the newly appointed Sergeant-at-Arms, and also at the Master-at-Arms. Looking to Preston as well, who shrugged at Dorian, who then turned his eyes back to the pair standing.

“I have nothing more to say, except congratulations… And you may both take yer leave, we’ll soon be at Saint Pierre, have your men ready…”

“Aye-aye, Sah!”

Both men knuckled brow and responded as one. Nathaniel turned and reached the door first, holding it open for Bill. The Captain, Master and Steward were left in the Wardroom, and Dorian spent little time in contemplation of his new officer. He stood and retrieved one of the ships ledgers and handed it to Mister Whitingford and sat at the desk himself, drawing out some parchment and readying a pen and ink.

“Go on and put Mister Brocke on th’ books… We still need a Bos’un’s mate… You mentioned a lad for that position?”

“Aye cap’n, that’d be Charlie Goddon…”

“Charlie Goddon… Aye… Tell me what you know of the lad…”

Dorian had begun to write out a letter to those who held power in Saint Pierre while Preston spoke.

“Aye, about Mister Goddon… there were a situation that occurred while you ‘n Cap’n Brand were ashore. One o’ th’ lads he was a crewed with on ‘nother ship was givin’ some guff to another. Mister Goddon hauled off n’ knocked ‘im t’ th’ deck, stone cold.”

Preston was about to continue but Dorian stopped him with a hand held up.

“And wot was done ta Mister Goddon fer this? And why was I not told o’ this til now? I won’t stand fer a lack o’ discipline on th’ Lucy… “

He placed his hand on the desk, drummed his fingers and waited for the Ships’ master to answer. Preston wrinkled his brow a moment and was slightly indignant.

“As Master I decided ta not confine ‘im, I did ‘ave words wi’ th’ man an’ he proved a good man, not one prone ta such unwarranted fisticuffs. Only reason ‘e gave fer boxin’ th’ man’s ears was ‘e knew ‘im, and that would stop things from goin’ farther. Goddon weren’t angered when he did such an’ showed fine temperament.”

Dorian sat back and looked at Preston for a long while. He thought over what he had said about Goddon and what little he knew of the new men aboard. His Ships’ Master started to look uncomfortable being looked at by the Captain. Dorian slowly nodded.

“Alright… We’ll make Goddon the Mate… However… I’ll hold you responsible fer his actions if he proves unworthy o’ th’ position.”

Preston smiled and almost sighed in relief.

“Aye, Dorian… I c’n ‘andle tha’… no worries.”

Dorian nodded, satisfied for the moment, and turned back to writing. Soon they would hear the word that the port was on the bow and he wanted his dispatch to be headed for shore as soon as humanly possible.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Now that both women were decided upon their course, they quickly began to create piles and lists of items that would stay and that which would go with them. Miss Smith proved herself most helpful in sorting things, offering up her wise opinion as to what should stay and what should go for practicality's sake. To Maeve, Miss Smith was a mystery she found intriguing and decided that she looked forward to the idea of getting to know such a woman.

Marie entered from the surgery room, looking tired, but somewhat recovered. It was obvious by her posture that the deep bruising caused her pain. Their patient's eyes held an unspoken question and confusion as she witnessed the scene. Maeve became suddenly aware of Marie standing in the doorway and went over to her. "Marie, I'm afraid that I am forced ta turn ya out of house today. I have been offered a commission aboard a ship called the Watch Dog and find that I must depart in haste with Miss Kildair at my side. I am willin' ta make sure yuh'r cared for by another physician if that is yer wish. I apologize for bein' arupt, but I must know where I might send you and inta who's care", she finished.

[Pew]

Wardroom of the Lucy

Preston finished his drink slowly. With only the random scratch heard from Dorian's pen, the quiet of the room led him to thoughts as he stared out the stern windows.

The cry of St. Pierre being sighted was loud enough to force the Ship's master back to the present. Almost immediatly following, Nigel's voice could be heard calling for a change of tack and the sails to be trimmed.

"Mister Whitt'nf'rd," Dorian continued to write, "call the officers t' th' ward room. 'ave th' mates assume their duties 'n preparation for St. Pierre. We need t' make the men aware 'f our plan once we reach port."

"Aye sah." Preston rubbed his eyes and yawned. His cough, still present, caught him unaware. A minor fit caused him to grasp the edge of the table and nearly upset Dorian's inkwell.

Dorian glanced up from his parchment with a look of concern. Preston waved it off, and continued to the door.

--------------------

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: NNE

Speed: 7 knots

Wind: Easterly, fine on the bow

[BriarRose Kildare]

As Maeve addressed their patient, BriarRose continued to pack their belongings taking extra care with the medical and apothecary items. Going up stairs she hurriedly pack their clothes and other belongings.

Finding a basket she placed a bit of wool in it and grabbed up Mandrake, “Aye, little one, where I go you go. Besides we may need a good mouser in our rooms.” He blinked up at her as she closed the lid. For a moment he mewed pitifully until she soothed him with some more words. “There, there….everything will be right soon enough.”

Carrying their belongings down the stairs she was amazed at all that had been done in her absence. “Well Maeve, I think I got all of our belongings that we will need upstairs. How are things going down here?”

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Lucy

Few came near those leaning over the rail or hanging out the gun ports on the lee side. It was best to leave those who needed to their own devices. Someone dabbed Ben's brow with a wet cloth then left it lay on his forehead. He was grateful but could not show his appreciation, he tried to recall the person but is mind was clouded by the green in his gills. Why was it that he loved the sea when she had proven time and again to be so disagreeable? Again his stomach protested but there was nothing left there. He sat, his back against the relative cool of one of the large guns, his focus on the horizon, the cool of the damp rag on his head ...maybe he could ...no! Wrapping his arm around the big gun he hung his head out the gun port once again. Why was it he loved the sea?

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy, within sight of St. Pierre, Martinique

Captain Lasseter paused for a moment longer as Preston left the Wardroom. He was concerned for his officer and friend, afraid that he was doing too much too soon and possibly damaging his health. The Master was a stubborn lad, pushing himself even when his recent illness reared its ugly head. Looking back to the parchment, he set back to writing, hoping his wording would suffice, and that those men in power understood his needs and wishes. Having penned the final words and signing the documents, Dorian gently blew on the ink to speed its drying time, folded the parchment and readied wax and seal. Once the wax was set he turned over the parchments and addressed them, one to the governor and the other to the garrison command. He left some space, hoping he might learn the names of whom he was to send these documents. They would not just sail into this port unheeded, he was sure a patrol boat or a pilot would be sent out to find out their business, then he would hope to gain that information.

A knock on the door pulled Dorian out of his thoughts there and as he looked up, Miss Ashcombe was already at the door. She opened it and seeing a line of the ships’ officers bid them enter. Soon the small room was filled with these men, Mister Whitingford being the last to enter.

“Cap’n, th’ mates have the Lucy in good order so we might be here as requested.”

“Thank you Master Whitingford… You men… If you haven’t already heard, we’re here in Saint Pierre on a man hunt. Capitain den Oven was set free from the prison in Fort Royal… We’re hoping ta find him an’ his accomplices here, if he is still here. Th’ Watch Dog will be joinin’ us by nightfall as well. I’ll be sendin’ word to those in power here be fore we set foot on shore, and only the Marines and a select few will be headed off th’ Lucy. I expect the crew ta be ready fer action at a moments notice, be it broad sides ‘r boardin’ action. Do I make myself clear?”

Every man stood an inch taller and knuckled brows with a firm ‘Aye’. Dorian gave a slow nod.

“That’ll be all lads… I’ll be on deck momentarily…”

Feet shuffled and the officers began shuffling out. Preston had on odd grin plastered on his face, which caused Dorian to give him yet another inquisitive look. Preston chuckled.

“Seems th’ short trip here has caused some unease among the new recruits. There be a couple heads hangin’ over the leeward gunn’ls… “

Dorian smiled and slowly shook his head.

“I wondered if some o' th' new lads might be a bit lubberly, lets hope they’ll be better afore we truly take to the sea… They have my pity… “

Again Preston chuckled as both men readied themselves to head on deck.

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Eight bells of the Forenoon Watch, Afternoon Watch begins

The noon hour arrived with little alteration aboard the Watch Dog. Supplies were still coming aboard, but thinning. Most of the crew were below at the task of stowing, including Jim Warren, who watched over the proceedings and the ledgers as he did so.

Jacob Badger was busy huffing and scowling over his new mate, as Jack Roberts was made to carry out overlapping orders from the Boatswain. Jack took this badgering in stride, for the Boatswain knew nothing of Jack, so this was but the refiner's fire to test all new mates.

Jack was not alone in this testing, for Mister Youngblood was grilling Simon Dunwalt with question after question and Mathew Campion, though new to the ship himself, was pushing Claude Marchande to the limits of his understanding.

William walked among the throng with an appreciative nod here and there at the order of it all, and even a smile or two at the chaos amidst the order. From time to time he went to the rail to watch the docks for news from any front regarding his men, his new doctor, or any other unexpected news, good or ill.

All watches on Duty

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Lucy

In a fine turn of events, just as Dorian and Preston came on deck, the bells sounded the change of watch, as well as the change from morning to afternoon. A small cutter was spotted heading for the Lucy, Andrew Smyth was just about to climb down when he sang out. Captain Lasseter made his way to the quarterdeck and took up the glass. Sure enough, he spotted French marines aboard, the glint of sunlight off their firelocks made him smile.

“Looks like we’ll be given an armed escort… Mister Whitin’ferd, All hands on duty if you please, line th’ gunn’ls, arm th’ marines, an form a side party…”

As Dorian lowered his glass Preston gave a quick nod and knuckled his brow before shouting the orders to the officers, who in turn echoed it across the small deck. Dorian continued to watch the approaching boat and glanced up at the white pennant fluttering off the mast. As long as the officer here was not another Turcotte, things should proceed with ease.

Change of the watch, Larboard off duty, Starboard on duty