The Watch Dog

[Silkie McDonough]

Raphael

"Mademoiselle, perhaps it would be best if you rouse your companion. Some nourishment will do her well, than you may both retire. But first, allow me to finish tending to your hand , no need to undo what has been done."

Returning to stool's plateau, Raphael once again held forth his hand awaiting Murin to proffer her own. The salve and dressings were applied with practiced quickness and he gave a slight nod in approval to end result.

"Ana?" Murin spoke her friend's name softly. "Ana dear." She touched the lady's arm lightly, her eyes fluttered and then opened with surprise. "Ana, they've brought us food." Her friend sat for a moment, her eyes glazed with sleep, blinking to clear the confusion seen there. Understanding rose in her eyes and the corners of her mouth turned up as recognition surfaced. "Come Ana." Murin held her hand out to the highly fatigued lady, Ana's slowly brought her hand to rest in the outstretched one in front of her. Murin gingerly took the handkerchief that lay in her lap in her left hand as she stood helping Ana to her feet, then to the table where the meager but warm meal waited.

[Silkie McDonough]

Each place was set with a steaming bowl and a ships biscuit. Murin helped Ana to her chair and then dropped into her own. To see her face one would think a feast was set before her. She leaned into the bowl and ravenously began to spoon the broth into her mouth. She took no notice of the savor. Abruptly she grabbed ships biscuit, tore into it and started shoving that in her mouth with the soup. The hot food in her mouth a luxury she had not been afforded in weeks! She stopped short looking at those in the room. Her bowl was near empty before she noted Ana gingerly eating her soup, ever the lady, even in this state. Chanault appeared to be looking out of the porthole, but Murin felt had seen her unmannerly display. Embarrassed she nearly wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Instead she found a napkin at her place and wiped her mouth while still chewing the last of the biscuit that filled her overstuffed cheeks. As Ana gracefully finished her meal Murin sat silently sipping the drink provided her. Her mind reviewing the events since they found themselves washed on the shores of the island just outside and wondering that they were able to survive as long as they had.

[Dorian Lasseter]

18/19 July, 1704

The Watch Dog - Quarterdeck

Eight Bells of the First Watch

As the eight bell was rung, Mr. Badger appeared on the weatherdecks and headed to the helm.

"Ah, Master Badger... Thankee fer relievin' me so promptly..."

"Aye Sah!"

With a shallow bow, The QuarterMaster took his leave of the quarterdeck and headed one last time around the weatherdecks. As he came to the door to the passage aft he gave a final word to the fresh officer of the deck.

"All is well, Bo'sun... have a goode watch..."

Mr. Badger nodded and turned his eyes to the ships nightly routine.

Dorian took in a deep breath and sighed, heading below. He made his way aft to his quarters and accidentally banged his sword into the door to the Surgeon's quarters hard enough that someone stirred within. He turned to the door and spoke loud enough for those on the other side to hear.

"My apologies, go back ta yer rest, just an arrant bump..."

Satisfied, he opened his cabin door and entered the darkness within. Fumbling about he found his tinder box and within a minute had candle lit. He shut his door once illumination was strong and sat at his small desk. He leaned his elbows on it and planted his chin in his hands.

"Bleedin' rain...."

He sat in this pose for several moments, then slowly stood. He began the routine of disarming and dismantling himself. First off came the oilskins, then the sword and baldric, next the pistol to be laid on the desk. Off came his wesket to hang on one hook, next his hat to hang on the other. The air was still and warm below, so his shirt came out of his slops and was soon hanging on top of the wesket. His wet clothes from earlier were dry enough to come down, so he did just that, folding them and setting them atop his chest. He sat and removed his shoes and stockings, flexing his toes now free from their confines... He stood and unstowed his hammock, then sat back at his desk, turning his attention to cleaning and oiling his weapons...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The laughter that filled the galley was a welcome release to all. Tudor arrived and took a seat with some tea in hand. These were the times that made the bad times and friends lost bearable. I turned to our new arrival with a smile, “Come tudor, sit and share your thoughts with us.”

Even hours later, Tudor's mind was still in the galley, even though she had long since returned to her closet. The cooks words stood out the most. "Share your thoughts with us". At the time she had mearly shared some light anticdotes from the day. She had been ignoring her own thoughts for quite a while. Far too long, it seemed. She reviewed the past few days, and realised that she had been performing her duties with little to no thought process, simply going through routine. But soon, they would be on land again, and habitually bringing the captain food, and clearing away, and organising logs, and letters, and notes would not suffice. Not if she wanted to be at all useful. Slowly she dozed into a fitful slumber, cursed by odd dreams. Not soon after first falling asleep, She woke herself up, and swore silently. She never had dreams any more. Silently she left her small chamber, quietly making her way to the decks. Maybe another late night stroll would clear her mind.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The first bell of the mid watch sounded as Dorian laid his cleaned and oiled pistol on his desk, yawned and stretched. He stood and rubbed his lower back while rolling his head slowly from side to side, working out the kinks. moving about in his cramped quarters he pushed in his chair and made his hammock ready, climbed in and adjusted his belt knife for comfort, then with practiced ballance, picked up his pistol and laid it across his beltbuckle...

"A fine rest I shall have... gods willin'...."

He smiled in the candle light as he listened to the ship.... it was alive, creaking and groaning, sighing... slowly he wet his fingertips and reached out, smiting the candle's flame, plunging his surrounds into darkness......

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

It was still raining as Tudor wandered the deks. She didn't mind. The gentle dropping of water against her skin relaxed her slightly as she wandered aimlessly, making sure to keep out the way.

[Pew]

“It was certainly well worth a day’s sailing to ensure the safety of Her Majesty’s waters. And it provided an excellent drill for my crew. Forgive me, but if I could see your papers? It is merely a formality. You are clearly no pirate.” The nervous captain handed over a packet of documents. The Captain glanced at them quickly and noted both the seal of the Dutch Republic and the signatures of various government officials.

“Well, my dear Captain, other than a bit of smeared ink on the certificate of ownership, everything seems to be in order. I must have smudged it with my thumb. Well, no harm done.” I watched as the papers were handed back to the Dutchman. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. Please accept my apologies for the interruption. I wish you a pleasant and profitable voyage.”

The Captain snapped his fingers. “Leftenant! Please escort the captain back to his ship, and give him and his crew a proper Royal Navy salute.” The Dutchman started to speak but the Captain waved his hand. “No no, not another word, sir. May I say it has been my pleasure to play host this afternoon. Good day to you sir.”

The Captain went below to sit in his great cabin. The sounds of a musket fusillade rang faintly to his ears, followed by the even fainter sounds of men screaming. He counted silently, then nodded with satisfaction as he heard the full-throated roar of Her Majesty's Ships cannons.

::At just that moment Eric Franklin walked full bore into the cabin door. I sat straight up in my hammock with thin beads of sweat trailing upon my forehead.

"Dreamin' again eh Mr. Pew?" Eric said clutching several muskets in need of cleaning. "Sorry to wake . . "

"No bother mate, I was due for watch in a bit anyway. Perhaps a cup from Mr Gage will do away with the cobwebs. . . ." Judging from Eric's appearance we were still in the midst of a downpour. "Still rainin' eh?"

"Aye. Raining but the night is still. Should make for an easy watch. . ."

"Very well...Catch up with me in tha morn as tha Captain has a wee job for us..." Eric nodded and continued to the armoury as I rose to begin my watch.

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Second Bell of the Middle Watch

William stood in an uncustomary spot on the forecastle deck. It was darker forward and he was allowed the opportunity to watch some of the crew unnoticed as they went about their watch.

Mister Badger had arrived on deck, taking the quarterdeck from Mister Lasseter. Mister Badger looked no worse for wear from the disturbance below. One might have said that he seemed almost cheerful. Perhaps he had needed a little disciplining in his routine. A chance to school the lads and lasses in the lessons of order.

Ciaran came up on deck at the turning of the watch and noticed the Captain at once. It was rare when he didn't note the little details of his watch. He saluted the Captain from amidships before ascending to his place above the decks. He had spent so much of his life above, that he was fast becoming as agile as Chanault. He was now worth any three other lookouts aboard ship.

William also noted Eric Franklin leaving the deck bearing muskets for oiling.

William decided to retire then, his watch having been over and done with for some time, when he saw the Miss Smith come onto the decks, wandering about in her own thoughts. He made his way forward to join her at the rails.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Sphinx had made claim to the high back chair once occupied by the wayward Well-born. He watched the two female companions as the savored the simple, but appropriate fare as a smallish damp breeze made its way around the chamber from partially opened port. Though its previous duty of gun access was no longer true funtion, it served well enough as a window to the outside world and the moist nocturnal zepher which snuck about in mischievous play called as a taunt to the Frenchman's senses.

As a serpent drawn to haunting pipe melodies, Raphael fought inner desires for the night enshrouded decks above. His will well laid to the structure of iron fortitude, resisted the siren calling of Nuit's passion and beconing with duty at hand. The pale sights regarded the near table and noted that surface burden was lessening. Soon the ladies of opposit stations would finish the evenings offerings and the call of weather decks would be answered.

Shifting his posture in high backed furnishing, the fine line of jaw came to rest on partial knuckle support, two fingers laid to point upward near cheek bone ridge. Free arm hung cassually, as a draping over opposit wooden support and with one ankle crossed over knee plateau, the vissage of one in deep lordly contemplation was rendered. Such bearing and poise made to look out of place in simple surrounds, for it belonged more so to great halls of majestic wrought than to those of rough beams and iron fastenings...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Second Bell of the Middle Watch

William stood in an uncustomary spot on the forecastle deck. It was darker forward and he was allowed the opportunity to watch some of the crew unnoticed as they went about their watch.

Mister Badger had arrived on deck, taking the quarterdeck from Mister Lasseter. Mister Badger looked no worse for wear from the disturbance below. One might have said that he seemed almost cheerful. Perhaps he had needed a little disciplining in his routine. A chance to school the lads and lasses in the lessons of order.

Ciaran came up on deck at the turning of the watch and noticed the Captain at once. It was rare when he didn't note the little details of his watch. He saluted the Captain from amidships before ascending to his place above the decks. He had spent so much of his life above, that he was fast becoming as agile as Chanault. He was now worth any three other lookouts aboard ship.

William also noted Eric Franklin leaving the deck bearing muskets for oiling.

William decided to retire then, his watch having been over and done with for some time, when he saw the Miss Smith come onto the decks, wandering about in her own thoughts. He made his way forward to join her at the rails.

She nodded in respect at the captain's approach, but kept for the most part silent, for the first few moments, then seemed to bring herself to attention. "Is there something you needed, sir?" She asked, an apologetic cast to her tone, for not premeditating any orders.

[William Brand]

"Is there something you needed, sir?" She asked, an apologetic cast to her tone, for not premeditating any orders.

"Needed? No." He said with his most 'at ease' tone. "The day's work is done for you, Miss Smith. But, I would have your thoughts."

"Thoughts, Captain?"

William shrugged a sort of 'yes' and leaned on the rail in a rather uncustomary way, leaning out to see the starboard stern light. When she made no attempt at conversation he began to speak on subjects upon which his own mind had dwelled of late.

"Treasure, Miss Smith. We shall soon have the Ilex fortune aboard. Though, not knowing what might be found with such a treasure, the mind wanders into expectations best left abed I imagine. Still, the imagination does wander, doesn't it?"

"Aye, sir."

"Have you thought on it much? Imagined some alteration of your own as touching your portion and the future it might make for you?"

It was her turn to shrug. Her mind had been on other matters.

"I should like to buy off my enemies. I should like to ransom myself from a bygone mistake. A king's ransom to buy off a king's edict." William sighed. It was not a sad sound, but rather an old sigh that had been expressed so many times before on the same subject that it had become vacuous. Hollow. Aimless. "Is there treasure enough out there to buy back seven years?"

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin woke with a start as her chin nearly touched her chest. Blinking, she recalled her surroundings. She sat at the table next to her empty plate. She needed sleep. "Monsuier ?” She turned to Chanalt. "I’m finished eatin’ Now thet m’belly is less empty I do need sleep. If you please, would you help me t’m’cot? I fear that I’ve not m’sea legs yet n’my hand bein injured I nil wish t’ fall."

Chanault Rose to her request and led her to the waiting cot. She sat and thanked the silent man again. Without waiting for him to leave the room or any pretense of propriety she laid herself down. In her hand she clutched at the linen handkerchief that Monsuier Chanault had loaned her, the soft scent of the man still cling to it. It was not a gift of affection but a show of respect and a vivid reminder of her restored freedom. It was this thought that she embraced as she fell asleep.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

Far above moonlit decks, great expanses of canvas luffed then snapped taunt as they filled to capacity once again. The level ground of man laid planking changed to slight tilt then righted once more as the corvette responded to helmsman whim from west to more northerly bearings. La Margarita was not a moment's second thought of memory to most who occupied the war vessel's encompassment, no more than a passing in journey not unlike the threading of gossamer clouding that wisped over the moon above. The Chessmaster had retired for the night, leaving trusted Second in his stead to Watch needs; and it was his Second that rechecked compass registry before making note and moving from Holy Ground to the waist.

Sights of intense slate hue studied cumulis passage over night orb, seeing and then again not where focus lie. Eloquant finery had been removed soon after voyage's beginning in favor of loose linen which responded by billow and flap to strong breeze intentions. The aray of evening's meal in Great Cabin sat heavily, still in the grip of slow digestion, causing a weariness above and beyond the hour of day. Mental process grappled with ghosts of thought and the taunting conjured with what was left in corvette's frothing wake.

Attempts to fully relax had mischievously hidden from achieval and the newly titled Comte De Leyes exhaled heavily in exaspiration. Glancing to the twinkle of brigantine consort's stern lamps in near distance, Her name came forward to dominate other musings. So heavily the power of a name held sway that the world around seemed to fade and it was not the calling of his name that broke the reign, but the nudge of another.

Turning with a start, Armand looked to nudge origin and greatfully accepted proffered flask. Dominique Lamaire nodded knowingly, moonshadow and yellowed lamp lumination fighting for claim on scarred Botticellian features. The silver vessel was returned and tucked away as the Lieutenant spoke with sagelike quality, "It is always les mademoisselles petit that haunt us so, non?"

"Oui, ami...il y a du vrai dans ce que vous dites..."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"Needed? No." He said with his most 'at ease' tone. "The day's work is done for you, Miss Smith. But, I would have your thoughts."

"Thoughts, Captain?"

William shrugged a sort of 'yes' and leaned on the rail in a rather uncustomary way, leaning out to see the starboard stern light. When she made no attempt at conversation he began to speak on subjects upon which his own mind had dwelled of late.

"Treasure, Miss Smith. We shall soon have the Ilex fortune aboard. Though, not knowing what might be found with such a treasure, the mind wanders into expectations best left abed I imagine. Still, the imagination does wander, doesn't it?"

"Aye, sir."

"Have you thought on it much? Imagined some alteration of your own as touching your portion and the future it might make for you?"

It was her turn to shrug. Her mind had been on other matters.

"I should like to buy off my enemies. I should like to ransom myself from a bygone mistake. A king's ransom to buy off a king's edict." William sighed. It was not a sad sound, but rather an old sigh that had been expressed so many times before on the same subject that it had become vacuous. Hollow. Aimless. "Is there treasure enough out there to buy back seven years?"

She smiled, a sort of smirking smile at the captain's more rhetorical question. "Yes captain. Enough money can buy anything. Including time."

"You speak as if you are experienced in such matters." He said, amused and hoping he found a chink the armor she wore around her past.

Again, she smiled inscruitably. "Yes, well . . . perhaps not in the purchasing of time past, but I certainly know that a large enough fortune will make even the most incorruptable over look misdeeds and histories."

[Pew]

::As Eric shuffles in and out, I tell him to get a dry change of clothes and retire for the evening.

"Tommorah will find us at tha island mate, and I'll be needin ya take take watch o' tha armoury in my stead." Eric nods and removes his cap. "'Tis a fine job ye be be doin' mate", I stand and pat him on the shoulde and find him soaked nearly to the bone. I tell him I would take over his watch and let the Cap'n know I'd finishe his watch for him.

"Thankee Mr. Pew," Eric says with a yawn.

"No worries. Tomorrah and tha next may 'ave ne'er a moment o' rest."

I close the cabin door behnd me and make my way topside. I find the Captain and his steward standing amidships at the starboard rail.

"Evenin' sah, Miss Smith," I tip my hat and the captain returns his customary greeting. Looking at Miss Smith in the glow of the lantern showed me a look to her I had never noticed. I suddenly felt comfortably uncomfortable. Shrugging it off I continued...

"I sent Mr. Franklin below as he was drenched to tha bone sah...Told 'im I'd finish 'is watch for 'im as 'e will stay onboard wit tha arms come daylight..." The captain nodded and crossed his arms. And just then I had a thought, "Beggin yer pahdon sah, may I have the pleasure of Miss Smith accompaning us to tha Island tomorrah? Ne'er know wha may be amiss...I'd like ta 'ave an'oer pistol ta watch me back, ifin ya know whut I mean sah..."

[William Brand]

William considered on the matter, but only for a moment. There was a restlessness in her mood of late, not that this influenced his decision. She was as worthy a choice as any other and if the Master-at-Arms favored her for the small expedition, he found no reason to disagree.

"By all means, Mister Pew. You may take Miss Smith along as one of the seven in your party. We'll place you on the north end of that part of Los Hermanos where we hope to discover the treasure." he said gesturing to a place in the distant darkness. "While we are searching out the Ilex fortune, I would like you to discover all other parts of that promontory. Your task will be to circumnavigate the island and join us at its most southerly tip. By then, we should have secured the fortune or its whereabouts."

"Aye, Sah."

"We'll deposit you by means of the cutter. Pistols and muskets and whatever other arms you deem fit."

"I think a light hanger per man...and woman...should suffice." He said, adding the additional title of gender with a smile that was several things at once.

William looked about the Watch Dog a moment, noting how quiet it was despite the rain. "If both of you are to be ashore tomorrow, then we shall revoke your watches for the evening. You are to rest now. I will send for you both when we are near to Los Hermanos. Worry not about the bells or watches until then. I want all of you well rested for the foray."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Her face lit up at the very prosepect of going ashore. She had felt confined and had started to feel useless again. And the need to prove herself again had risen to the surface. Thank you for thinking of me sir." She said to Mr. Pew "I shall be ready at the call." She said with a sharp nod, then turned to make way to her quaters. She would finally be able to sleep, now that she had something to sleep for.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Murin woke with a start as her chin nearly touched her chest.  Blinking, she recalled her surroundings.  She sat at the table next to her empty plate.  She needed sleep.  "Monsuier ?” She turned to Chanalt.  "I’m finished eatin’ Now thet m’belly is less empty I do need sleep.  If you please, would you help me t’m’cot?  I fear that I’ve not m’sea legs yet n’my hand bein injured I nil wish t’ fall."

Chanault Rose to her request and led her to the waiting cot.  She sat and thanked the silent man again.  Without waiting for him to leave the room or any pretense of propriety she laid herself down.  In her hand she clutched at the linen handkerchief that Monsuier Chanault had loaned her, the soft scent of the man still cling to it.  It was not a gift of affection but a show of respect and a vivid reminder of her restored freedom.  It was this thought that she embraced as she fell asleep.

With Murin tucked snuggly in canvas embrace, Raphael watched on briefly assured that Morpheus had taken her hand and led on to peaceful lands. His focus drifted to where her companion had nodded off, still showing an unconsciencous poise in sleeping state. The Frenchman considered what action should be taken with the Well-born and concluded that the chair she now occupied would not do. Drawing near, he listened to the soft intake and exhalation of sleep shouded breath. The one called Anna shifted minutely in seating, the delicate line of chin coming to rest on simple linen adornment, the smooth brow creasing for fleeting instant.

Reaching forward as one would to a slumbering child, Raphael braced then lifted Anna's slight form, betraying strength that lithe frame did not advertise. Her breath caught momentarily as the Sphinx adjusted his hold and support of limp form, causing him to pause in action until breathing pattern resumed. With careful choice of footing, she was carried to hanging cot to the right of Celtic companion and gently deposited in concave sling. Light cover drapped to guard against the dampness of night weather, Chanault stepped a pace back for final inspection, then dimmed hanging lamps before retreating to private quarters.

The adjoining chamber proved vacant to all but himself, which caused a stiring of question to mental process. The pale sights made quick survey of surround and found nothing amiss or out of order to previous entrance. Obtaining decanter of vin rouge from earlier in the evening, a goblet was filled as he contemplated his charge's where abouts. But the answer to the pixie featured creature's location was resolved by educated assumption, something he would have been willing to lay wager upon in different arenas.

Finishing goblet's content, Raphael decided to answer siren call. Fife was retrieved from spot of hibernation, the instrument he would use to seduce fair maiden who's reign of the hour was in full sway. A light coat was donned to belay any invasion of moisture still wishing to harry the works of mortal kind, and the Sphinx departed quiet chamber, pausing briefly to eye Quartermaster's door before continueing on to the decks above.

Finding an shadowed area, freefrom the traffic of those who trod exposed decking; the fife was released from pocket's hold. No thought was given to piece conjured, only slight intake of breath and the pale jade orbs closed as the haunting lilt flowed forth in intricate pattern to charm La Reine du Nuit...

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Third Bell of the Middle Watch

With the Master-at-Arms and Steward retired, William wandered the deck in a rain that had dissipated to little more than a drizzle. He eventually found his way to the quarterdeck and stood awhile at the wheel where only Mister Badger and one of the few armed watchmen kept the night with a wrapped musket and dripping inclimate weather gear. The watchman was so tightly wrapped against the cold and rain that William would not have recognized him but for his voice, which offered a solitary acknowledgment of his title with an accompanying gesture of salute.

After a time, Monsuier Chanault's fife could be heard against the still waning patter of rain. William had not noted his arrival on the weather decks, so he was surprised to hear the sound, but not displeased. Music at night was an opiate for weary nerves. The salve of it went out to every man and woman on the watch and served as much as the hot fare which occasionally came out from the steaming galley.

For a time, no sound interrupted the solo performance but the accompaniment of the weather and the occasional bell of the watch.

Sixth Bell of the Middle Watch

The hours rolled by until the rain was almost altogether gone and still the clouds remained. By the smell of the air, they would probably see little respite the following morning. No, it was more than likely that the rain would not abate completely, but continue on for at least another full day.

William finally gave over to his own aching bones. The injuries he had sustained during the past two months were too alive in the rain. The damp air reminded him of his hurts both old and newly healed and he was forced to give over the watch to Mister Badger.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Sphinx continued to conjure spells of muse induced fife lilt, one melody flowing into the next with little pause. No attention was given to the elements and the gathered moisture that broke free from wide brim to intermittantly stream downward. The fife's voice changed mood periodicly, telling tales of distant lands, of elations and sorrows; of victories and loss. But no manner of note combinations would belay the tears of Heavenly Hosts and the moon stayed hidden from view, playing the fickle maid.

With hidden awareness, the young frenchman had made note of the Captain's presence on sodden decks. The poise of proud frame could not hide discomforts to the educated eye and Raphael recalled entries to Medical Log which indicated some origin to William's angst. The fife raised its' voice in elevating progression as a Pheonix climbing in flight, hanging briefly before plunging in reverse. The pale sights watched from wide brimmed puenumbra as William departed drenched planking for drier climes below, and it was only then that pause was given to musical caress.

Chanault gained his footing to stand, the fife tucked away to pocket's protection. Moving forward with fluid pace, he gained the bow's company and looked into the darkness to focus intently on night shouded landfall. Memories moved to the forefront, this local at another time, and the young man of one and twenty years wondered momentarily' how fared his comrades in arms...

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Before Tudor had reached her cabin, she weighed the pros and cons of prepairing for her expedition ashore now against prepairing before she left. Knowing that she would have a clearer mind now, and wishing to make sure all would be ready and that she would be fully prepaired, she went about th ship, quietly and unnoticed, gathering what items she would need, and mentally planning the voyage.

She was crossing the weather decks in the shadows, almost finished with her prepratory errands, and laughing quietly to herself, as she over heard the inane repartee of two of the crew. "I could kill a hundred more men then you!" The first called. "I could kill a thousand more then that!" The second retorted. "Well, if I kill you first then it's not like to matter, aye?" The first sneered back. "True, that . . . I'll just have to remember that next time I see your mother." The second held a menacing tone to his voice. "Don't ye go bring me mother into this!" The first bellowed . . .

Tudor just shook her head and silently laughed, and the unoriginal argument, but her breath stilled and constricted her throat when she heard whispered words on the night breeze. "Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler" She turned suddenly, and saw a lone figure leaning against the rail, looking out at the sky. Her heart stopped momentarily and she stepped forward to approach him, a smile on her face. But she realised, a moment to late, for he turned and saw her approach, that it was not who she had, for a second, thought it to be. The accent was diffrent - from the North - and he looked not at all the same. She realised this, but for a moment, heard the french and had hoped . . .

She smiled awkwardly. "Sorry, I just uh . . . just thought you were someone else for a moment . . ."She faltered and blushed, and turned to go, but stopped and turned back to face Chanult. "Oui, je conviens. Leurs cerveaux courent beaucoup plus lent puis leurs bouches." She said with a cheeky smile. The turned once more to make way to her quaters.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Raphael looked steadily at the young woman saying nothing as she turned away. Inwardly the gears and cogs turned to lock into place giving forth recognition as she paused in away movement to quip wittisism in native tongue. Inclining his chin ever so slightly, Raphael stepped from the shadows worn as mantle and crown, "Pardonnez- moi, s'il vous plait mademoiselle..."

Miss Smith hesitated in forward momentum to the soft wordings. Her features were set in quizzical expression to the hailing, "Oui, monsieur?"

" Avoir la parole facile, mademoiselle? "

She smiled, a hint of amusement playing her eyes,"Oui, monsieur."

Raphael grew silent once more as if digesting her answer. The constant drizzle picked up its pace and the heavy mist like moisture evolved into droplets, once more. From under the wide brim of chapeau, the pale sights narrowed minutely to the weather change. He gestured towards the ladder leading into the Frigate's lower regions and switching to english out of respect, he remarked quietly.

" It is not a good night to be above, mademoiselle. I suggest you find comfort below before you obtain a chill... "

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"Si Vous desirez une personne avec qui parler, cherchez moi." She said with a shrug. As she headed toward the pointed out ladder. "Bon Nuit, monsieur." She said, retreating below.

She sighed, closing her eyes, trying to push the thoughts from her mind that the conversation in foreign tongue germinated. Both from the memory of her orginal tutor, and from memories far more recent. . .

but before her mind was overrun with thoughts of the recently departed, she quickly shut herself into her quaters, and busied herself with double checking the weapons she prepaired for the marrow, then quietly lowered herself onto the narrow bunk and willed herself asleep, but not before whispering goodnight to he that was far away.

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Weatherdecks of the Watch Dog

Seven and Eight Bells of the Middle Watch

Mister Badger busied himself with the inspection of lines as the dark hours passed. The rain slowed to a trickle, and for that he was grateful. Several times during the night he pressed fingers to his face, his nose still smarting from the elbow from before.

Coffee came up once during his watch from the galley, borne by a somewhat sullen, but culled Hingerty.

"Sorry about befo', Sah." he managed, as he passed a steaming cup into the hands of the Bosun.

Mister Badger's reply was little more than a nod. He wasn't angry, just not in a mood to show cordiality to man still under a punishment. Hingerty had expected no more from the Bosun, and went about his new duties understanding what his punishment might have been.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

The storm lamp swayed overhead with sea's rollicking intentions upon corvette's passage. Coordinates had been adjusted to skirt a small gale that had erupted to the east and near distant storm winds pushed escort and consort readily to desired bearings. In a semi-cramped private cabin, two men stratagized game of chance over a secured bottle of aged elixir from French origins.

Scarred Bottticellian angel smiled smugly as latest hand was laid to rest on table surface, a smile that dissipated as companion's cards were also revealed. Armand shrugged, reaching for decanter and poured another round. The cards were gathered, shuffled and distributed again. Lamaire discarded two, retrieved replacements and scrutinized what lay in gathered spread with practiced skill. Glancing over the fanned aray, the Lieutenant noticed that the Gascon had placed his playing pieces down and seemed lost in thought. Minutes passed without further motion and pursing lips in reaction to present idleness, Dominique reached for drinking vessel companion and drank deeply its' contents.

The elder of the two young men considered momentarily, then broke the silence that hung heavily over table's surround. He leaned forward, fixing the other with steady gaze berift of the usual mischievous spark.

"There are choices that we all must come to terms with in our lives..." he leaned back to chair's support and let the words hang the air as Armand's focus returned from drift.

" Pardon...Comment quoi ?"

Lamaire refilled wanting glass before saying anything more, " We all make decisions that are not as we may preffer...And there are only two choices beyond a decision that one can make in the aftermath."

The Gascon's expression showed a hint of confussion and he shook his head in negation to understanding. The Lieutenant drew another sampling of elixir burn, savoring aged quality. "One can accept or one can try to make a reversal of choice..."

Armand's brow furrowed in reaction to presented verbose. Once again, Lamaire leaned forward to table edge and cocking his head a small degree to the right, he gave forth a sagelike nod of unsaid understanding. They eyed each other for a passing of moments, the high winds outside wailing to all willing to give ear.

" I have been where you are now, ami. I have made sacrifice for the greater overall and understand to well your soul's anguish, non?"

"Tu...?" The Gascon said with no effort to hide his disbelief.

"Oui... and the Players of this tale are all known to you, though one is without knowledge of the occurance and the other has locked it away in memory, as have I."

Dominique finished vessel content then refilled the emptiness. Normallity of easy going nature had dissapeared and the seriousness that shadowed his expression was solem as a tomb...