The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704- Aboard the Lucy

William stood awhile in bemusement of his own appearance. As hard as it was raining, he still managed to match it with the remaining water that streamed from his cloths. He held his arms out from his sides and examined the damage to his coat. One of the great pockets was torn, but more than this, it would take days to see it dry again. His heavy weather gear now served only to keep water in.

'I'm drowned.' William thought, though he didn't say it aloud. He thought it best to tempt neither fate nor the fears of men.

Preston stood by remaking Gavin Montgomery from the crown of his head on down with so many carefully picked words. William was of no such mind, too grateful not to be drowned in such a stupid way to be angry now, but he let the Ship's Master remind Gavin that a mistake great or small can kill a man or two along the way.

"Sah...?" Nigel stood at William's elbow with a dry coat.

"Keep it by." William said, to wet to care for comfort for the moment. Instead, he went to the side and watched the Lucy's men bail the Patricia. Preston joined him there and William did not withhold his praise of the Lucy's crew.

Three bells of First Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

Now that those who were rudely dumped in the sea were pulled to safety, some chatter had started among the men aboard. John Black found Adam and was having what looked to be a one-sided conversation. John talking jovially, happy to be back with his friend and Adam moving rather animatedly, talking with his hands. Joseph Aretineson in a gruff manner apologizing to the Master Gunner for missing the ship when she left port. The others, Coipman, Leigh, Howard and Millet were met with a mix of jibes and such for being left behind. The Patricia was bailed out as much as she could be and set to rights, all the men climbed aboard the Lucy and most were sent below. Nigel stood next to Captain Brand with the dry coat tucked under his oilskins and waited for what Mister Whitingford would have them do.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

"Nigel, change th' men on watch, and have th' officers report t' the Ward Room."

The Cox'un nodded and braced the door on the Ward Room as it was nearly blown out of his hand when opened. The Captain had a few minutes to collect himself before the men returned.

"Any word from Dorian?" asked William Brand of his company's quartermaster.

"Nil Cap'n, weather hit 's quickly. Not a launch from shore 'as been sighted, nor one sent."

Both men paused to collect themselves not truly realizing the gravity of the situation they had just endured. A sudden opening of the door caught the men off guard, to which Miss Ashcombe replied Mister Marsh would not relight the hearth and was rude to her when asked to do so. Lukewarm stew was to makes it's way to the Ward Room presently. Both men smiled. The company's Captain, the Ship's Master and the Steward of the Lucy each shivered off nature's tempest.

____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: At anchor, bow facing NE

Speed: At rest

Wind: Very strong Northeasterly winds, nearing gale strength, 30 knots, dead ahead

[Silkie McDonough]

Having bailed the Patricia and set her right those on watch were relieved of the watch. There they stripped wrung the excess water from their garments then draped them over the line rigged from beam to beam for the purpose. The area was less warm with the storms but dampness hung in the air and clung to everyone and everything. It was unlikely that in the few hours that they may be below deck the clothes would dry. Keeping voices low they made lighthearted remarks jabbing fun at Montgomery and his unstable "sea legs". They had seen Mister Whitingford make clear that more caution was needed but they also knew that stormy waters were unpredictable and any of them could have lost their footing in the same situation. As for Gavin Montgomery, he would have been pleased to see the Ships Master take a spill the next time the ship pitched violently but he was wise enough to keep that sentiment to himself.

"Did you see Brand?" one asked,

"Aye, I seen im fall over. E'din know wot wuz appenin afor e'it d'drink!" answered Quigley.

"Big lumberin lubber." replied another smiling at Montgomery who replied with a brush from his forearm. 'Careful," replied Gavin "I'll help you the same next time!"

"Soaked his good coat."

"Who?"

"Brand."

"Aye, woter runnin frum im like to fill a barral!" all chuckled. Each member of the crew found berth, conversation waned, and sleep found each before long.

Edited February 16, 2009 by Silkie McDonough

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 -Aboard the Lucy

William asked Preston to explain all that had transpired aboard the Lucy and ashore in the absence of the 'Dog. Preston launched into an immediate narrative as William wrung out what few personal items he could in a basin that Miss Ashcombe made available to him. William also took the time to lay out his cutlass and confirm the absence of his pistol as Preston went on uninterrupted. Over the course of a few minutes, several items found their way onto the table before Captain Brand, including a purse of mixed coin, a handkerchief, and one very large, round, golden watch, which William took up at once with some concern, holding it to his ear. Preston paused to give William adequate silence and after a moment, an appreciative smile spread across William's lips.

"A credit to its maker." William said as he replaced it on the table.

During all of this, Miss Ashcombe attempted the role of hostess, offering what alcohol was to be had, which only Preston accepted and a weak tea, which William refused with a slow shake of his head. The stew was received better, despite a distant civility on William's part when speaking with Miss Ashcombe, for he had shared no more than two words with her since coming aboard.

Preston ended his report and asked for news in kind. William paused a moment before reciprocating. He pushed his stew aside and looked directly at Preston.

"Klaas Scymmelpenninck was found beaten to death....his body thrown headlong down a well." William said flattly, and waited while the Master's countenance altered in degrees. Preston's face changed very little on the surface, apart from darkening into an angry quiet, but William knew him well enough to take in the more subtle reactions. With this news ingested, William continued to explain the business of hunting down den Oven as he had witnessed it in St. Louis.

He made no mention of Murin or her new accommodations.

[Silkie McDonough]

Sleep had finally found Miss McDonough. It didn't take long to cry herself out. She had no reason for that. She had done the only thing she could have done. She owed John Sterling much and she was loyal to the Watch Dog and her crew. The two were not as diametrically opposed as one may think. Additionally, fretting and analyzing for hours on end would serve only to upset her. If they gave her a chance to defend herself she had been given the time to think of what she would say in her defense. If not what choice had she. She was their prisoner. So she slept and dreamt in a fitful sleep. The swaying of the ship brought to her dark dreams of the horrid voyage to Barbados from Ireland, traveling as cargo in a hold that smelled of urine and far too many people.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Saint Pierre, Martinique

The Admiralty House

As the night wore on, the weather did not improve, nor did it worsen. Lieutenant Martin said it would continue to blow until dawn, unless some odd occurrence in the weather made him a liar. The marines had their fill of food, but not of spirits, but they had been reminded of their duty and it would not bode well for any to be drunk on duty. Instead many got themselves as comfortable as could be and took to resting. Some even were able to find fitful sleep, snoring loudly until a mate gave them an elbow in the ribs, or some other jab to quiet them. The Judge even offered a room in the upstairs of the house for Captain Lasseter and the other officers to sleep until some news or break in the weather occurred. Dorian thanked the Judge but put off the use of the room until a later time. He could not sleep while his ship, the Watch Dog, and all the crews aboard would get little or no sleep being tossed about off shore. He instead accepted a cup of coffee laced with chocolate to warm him and keep his wakefulness awhile longer.

Five Bells of the First Watch

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

"Beaten, eh?" asked Preston coarsely. "den Oven's hand? Wha' abou' th' greasy fek Tawny? Do we know who coulda taken Klaas?"

Before Captain Brand could answer, Preston cut in again, even louder this time.

"Where's Ajayi? Didn't he leave wit Mister Wellings?" Preston's hand clenched tighter.

"Neither have been found Mister Pew. It is assumed that den Oven had come upon our men and slayed the Dutchman. With no other bodies discovered, it is impossible to say what had become of Joshua Wellings and Ajayi Abiodun."

Preston thought for a moment before he spoke. "I thought we were t' track den Oven b'cause he broke from prison. I dinnit know he killed 'r men Captain."

"It is possible, Preston, that his men did inflict great casualties upon our men. But possibilities do not a man hang for," William reflected a moment on his last statement, "but in some cases they may." He smirked.

William "Red Wake" Brand now reached for the empty goblet. "A drink perhaps, Miss...Ashcombe is it?"

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny had stood by piecing together what little she did know, with the new information from the conversation near enough to reach her clearly. Despite Captain Brands more unafected manner of speaking, Mr. Pew's volume at times made it hard to maintain an indifferent air.

She was well used to displays of temper or anger as his rightfully was, given the grisly description of his men's fate. Miss ashcombe was no stranger to such displays from Mssr. Garaud.

She showed no emotion save for paling slightly, as a glimpse of what may lie beneath Captain Brands staid exterior traced across his features at the last of his exchange with Preston. It was a fleeting thing, but nonetheless reminded her that all was not what it seemed on the surface and that she still remained among strangers.

Jenny averted her eyes to the task of replenishing the proffered vessel, doing so with care as the ship continued to toss. Answering "yes Sir" she curtsied before turning to the cabinet to replace the bottle and returned refilling Mr. Pews mug with the tea mostly gone cold as the expresion he wore. Miss Ashcombe did not look at either man and quietly retired back to her place. As they returned to their grave discussion she wondered how the others fared. She longed to ask after Miss McDonough but the situation did not warrant such small talk.

[William Brand]

"I fear that den Oven will escape the island, if he has not already. We might yet exchange a broadside or two with the fool come some bloody Friday."

Preston continued to muse aloud about the whereabouts and mortality of Ajayi and Joshua. He touched on several points William might have made aloud, including the possibility that Mister Wellings had crossed to the side of den Oven, though he never said such of Ajayi. No, it was more likely that Ajayi would not go willingly with den Oven, but being a slave of some value, was compelled to go for use as 'currency'.

William agreed on this point with a solitary, slow 'yes' which came out sounding like a long exhale laced with fatigue.

"Klaas, dead." Preston said aloud once more. "Exonerated 'n death."

William nodded, and despite the graveness of the moment, he found that he liked the phrase. "Exonerated in death," he repeated aloud, and wondered then if it would be applied to himself one day.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Nigel had done as ordered and gathered the officers of the Lucy to convene in the Wardroom with Master Wittingford and Captain Brand and Miss Smith of the Watch Dog. Due to the size of the ward room, Nigel had only gathered the officers and not their mates, thus, Misters Tucker, Wenge, Johnson and Brocke followed Mister Brisbane to the ward room. He knocked and they entered, all barely squeezing into the space. The air soon became stifling and muggy as they waited for the Master to speak.

[Black Syren]

Briar sat quietly though a brief pale and her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the small table. Treasure sat and winced as the sting returned to her thigh and glanced moodily about the cabin. She sought to find some way to ease Briar and for the life of her could think of naught. Tilting her head she asked Briar if she could resume work back upon deck and Briar frantically shook her head. With a heavy sigh Treasure asked if she could play chess. Briar remained mute upon this subject so Treasure started asking her questions about cures for ailments and surprisingly Briar started to gain color and spoke haltingly. After some time had passed Briar was speaking with great animation and knowledge, her color had returned and Treasure hid her amusement and continued to ask questions and soon they were both in a deep debate over skirts versus slops upon ship. Briar seemed horrified and said no Lady would wear such causing Treasure to roll her eyes causing both to break out in merry laughter the storm long forgotten.

[William Brand]

The Making of Tawny: Part Three

The days and weeks which followed David's arrival were as joyous and real as those which follow the arrival of any child, but only outwardly and in unequal portions. Cormac was the perfect picture of a proud father, grinning ear to ear and everywhere speaking of his son. He could not speak of the weather but to say how it would touch his boy. He was alive with the excitement of the moment, and it seemed that that moment would never end.

Aingeal, almost Cormac's opposite, was quiet and silent on the subject. Almost everyone around her took this for an inward and thoughtful peace, for she never spoke but to agree with Cormac in the simplest of ways. Indeed, she was so quiet that she was oft compared to the Madonna, ever reflecting inward about her newborn son.

As for David, he was a strong child and of a good voice when it came to appetite and requirements. He was vocal on all subjects and seemed to prefer wailing to any other sound. Cormac was delighted by this and ever reminded Aingeal that David's lungs were powerful. Aingeal agreed with a solitary yes, all the while plotting outrageous ills upon the child for the crying grated upon her and made her murderous at times.

Despite their differences in affection, the family soon became a matter of routine, for weeks gave over to months and months to years.

Cormac soon lost a little of the pride in his stride and returned to his work. His affection did not dim, but it rather altered, for he took on more work than before, anxious to provide for his son and wife in the long term. As many men were wont to do, he turned the matter of David's early years over to Aingeal, content to wait until David was older before stepping in to make him a man. This was of course an unforeseen mistake on Cormac's part, for he could never have imagined Aingeal's unnatural plans to alter the boy.

So it was that David became David to his father and everyone else, while in secret he became something else. When no one else was about Aingeal called him Tara. Being as young as he was the name meant no more to him in the first few years than any pet name or nickname that a loving parent might use, but Aingeal was careful to use only Tara and nothing else. After a time she took to calling him Tara openly, but never loudly enough for anyone to hear. As David grew he took this for a distinction of affection from his mother and nothing more, and as no one else seemed to notice this, he never thought to mention it.

In addition to this private use of his middle name, Aingeal was also careful to flatter Tara with words or adjectives generally reserved for girls. While Cormac used words like Handsome or clever, she would call him lovely or sweet. She also took advantage of Cormac's absence to dress her Tara up in clothes befitting a girl, not that the clothes of an infant boy or girl contrasted greatly at first, but she carried on doing this into his toddler years and beyond. In addition to dressing her son in garments covered in lace and sprinkled in perfumes, she would also speak to him as if he was a girl, making no distinction concerning gender. She would use phrases like 'We girls' or 'Ladies like ourselves'. She even went a step further and dressed up an unused room in a corner of their very arge home with dolls and delicate things. She would spend most of her time here with Tara ever reminding her child that such things were a secret between women and were never to be spoken of to men.

Now Aingeal did sometimes question herself in this regard, but not enough to quit the road she travelled on. She sometimes hated herself for being purposefully strange and secretive, but not enough to change her mind, repent of her actions or alter her course. With each decision to push beyond her conscience, she became stranger still and began to relish the perversion her son might become, imagining new ways to alter him over the course of his years.

Time passed this way, and the child was sometimes David and sometimes Tara. For himself, the young Tenile was intelligent, witty and imaginative, enough so that most of Aingeal's efforts of madness had little effect, except to make Tenile confused and more quiet than some children. When he was David, he was awkward and shy, though possessed of physical strength and stature at even an early age, owing to some traits passed to him by his father. As David he was very polite, so Cormac took no notice of early oddities. When he was Tara, or rather when she was Tara, she was genteel and modest, though of a stronger, more outward confidence. She felt comfortable, even encouraged to be such under the auspicious care of her mother-sister Aingeal.

Of course, with the passing of time, David-Tara began to understand that there were strange underpinnings in life which were confusing. David-Tara's father seemed to think that he-she was a boy, while his-her mother thought him-her a girl. By the time David-Tara realized this very important thing he-she had already noted a certain difference in genders among other people, for women seemed possessed of ample parts not associated with men and men seemed possessed of a very strange appendage not gifted to women, and as David-Tara had the one and not the others, he-she grew concerned.

Owing to these concerns and the many contradictions they created, David-Tara began a secret third life. This life was devoted to learning things on his-her own. Much of this time was spent in spying on both genders to learn the subtle and confusing differences in the sexes, which also required David-Tara's young mind to wade through the impossible tangle of social and political views expressed and hidden by adults. This proved to be a difficult task for a child. Navigating the open and hidden life of people created so many different ideas in the young David-Tara, that he-she could not often decide what was true and what was false.

David-Tara also spent a considerable time undressing him-herself to examine the strangeness of being what appeared to be a man as he-she knew it, despite his-her mother-sister's protestations. he-she was very thorough to check him-herself to be certain that as he-she grew older he-she remained unchanged. David-Tara understood that as girls grew they developed breasts, which became ample with some and not with others, but as no such alteration seemed eminent in him-her, he-she did not know what to make of this.

By the age of nine his-her young mind came to the childlike, but perfectly understandable conclusion that all parents treated their children as a boy and girl as part of their education. Of course, David-Tara's exact thoughts on the matter were more innocent and abstract, but it was this general idea that gave him-her comfort and he-she decided then that all was well and right, though he-she continued to investigate every nuance of life as often as freedom permitted.

he-she did in fact question this idea many times, for outwardly he-she was praised as a boy by everyone but his-her mother-sister and eventually David-Tara replaced the idea that he-she was a girl-boy and came to the conclusion that all people started as both only to become one or the other in time. The problem was, David-Tara liked being both. he-she liked it so much that he-she grew ever more concerned that the choice to remain so would be taken away from him-her. This made David-Tara very angry and even fearful for everyone about him-her seemed determined to make him-her a boy, and he-she was wise enough to see that his-her mother-sister openly despised being made into a women herself and would probably hate him-her if he-she became a boy.

"Will they do that to me?" he-she wondered. "Will I have to become a boy?" he-she asked himself aloud, and often. So worried did David-Tara become concerning this that he-she began to wonder about the steps which might be taken to prevent such a choice.

These thoughts carried him back to his-her earlier discoveries, for in his-her diverse attempts to understand gender and its purposes, he-she had often turned to the animals about the countryside, noting the similar traits that mammals all possessed. During these discoveries he-she had witnessed the gelding and alteration of animals to a gender of a third kind, at least as he-she understood it. he-she chanced to think innocently that it was possible to become neither gender, so that he-she might in some way escape the need to alter what he-she was with the simplest alteration to his-her anatomy.

In these thoughts, David-Tara was utterly alone. Like most children he had reached the age of self discovery, but unlike most he was poorly armed to that purpose, being possessed of so many misguided and misrepresented ideas of life, gender, role, anatomy and even affections that he would never understand what he had been robbed of. He was so altered by this time as to be outside the purview of common understanding and as such he was beyond the many subtle epiphanies of other boys his age. The road before him did not even offer him the choices of sexuality as we understand them, for he would never be heterosexual, homosexual or even bisexual in the ways in which we define them. He would be unique ever after, the damaged son of a loving and oblivious father and a broken woman who dared to call herself his mother and sister.

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy

With little room to maneuver in the small room, Preston was brief. He explained the death and discovery of Klaas Scymmelpenninck as it had been explained to him. This was met with mixed reactions, for some had known him well enough and others not at all.

Nathanial Brocke seemed most effected, having served with Klaas aboard the Heron. The man might have sat down if the space had permitted, but he kept his feet with his head lowered. Alder, having also served with Klaas, was seen closing his eyes in the slow deliberate way of one trying to shut out the images of bad news.

Nigel asked the question on almost everyone's mind. "May we ask if there is any news of Ajayi, sah?" If anyone noted that his inquiry left out Joshua Wellings, no one said anything about it, for Ajayi was simply known so well as to eclipse the other missing man to all but a few.

William shook his head a moment. "Neither Mister Wellings or Ajayi have been found alive or dead."

Some other news followed this, with William explaining the roles of Turcotte, Durand and other members of the French government at Martinique. William let his eyes fall on Miss Ashcombe at the mention of Durand and at Preston when mentioning Turcotte. Preston made a face demonstrating his disdain for the lieutenant. William further explained to them that he would exhaust all the powers at his disposal to find out what had become of his missing men at Martinique and return them alive or dead to the Whole Company.

Some questions followed and soon the business was complete. Preston excused the officers of the ship as William excused Miss Smith. Preston would have given the deck over to William then, but William declined, insisting that no such formality was necessary.

"I...we...are content to be your weary guests until this rain abates. Please see Miss Smith and the others lodged in the empty hammocks of those men ashore and we will wait to see what the morrow brings."

"Aye, Sah."

"Preston..." William began, shaking his head as Miss Ashcombe refreshed his glass. "...you are risen above the ranks. When in this place, let it be William."

"Aye, s...William." Preston returned, purposely slipping.

"My ears are weighed down by 'Captain' too much in a day. The Spanish, French and my own..." William rubbed the bridge of his nose and stretched his water weary feet. "Besides...we have no secrets before the Steward." William added, and he looked at Miss Ashcombe with a look that was made up of too much of nothing. His calm face before the storm.

"Why did that man in the boat shoot at you as you crossed to the Lucy, Miss Ashcombe?"

Six Bells of the First Watch

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe, still a little queasy from the tossing of the ship, was now hot and feeling the smothering dampness of the ward room which had been dry before so many storm and sea soaked officers had tested it's very limits.

As the parties left only the three of them alone and even before, Jenny felt like a thing in the background, a cup or quill..she served the men, and the Captain and did not participate but to listen. None had paid her any mind.

So the sudden query came as a shock and she felt the closeness of the room as if the men hadn't left at all. Jenny gripped the decanter and spoke, trying to drown any fear from her voice. It sounded strange to hear herself join the conversation when she had been silent most of the past hour. "Captain, I cannot tell whom the man shot at, nor was it told to me that he shot at anything known. I was struck, with a sweep or musket and was not concious of my surroundings when brought aboard." She said no more.

[William Brand]

William drained his glass and set it aside. "Then would you be so kind as to tell me who it is that you are running from? You are strongly encouraged to be as forthcoming as possible, as your answer might, and probably will, endanger the lives of some seven score men and women."

[Pew]

The Lucy's Wardroom

Preston remained standing.

He crossed his arms, now leaning against the small bookshelf at his back. He looked Ash up and down trying to discern some kind of figure beneath her cumbersome attire. Yet Jenny's uneasiness had Preston reach down his waist and adjust the pistol now biting into his belly. He made no short work of the motion making her aware that the weapon was present, should it be called for.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny didn't understand why she would suddenly be accused..the matter seemed mostly behind them. She'd been signed on as Steward to the Captain. Surely he felt her to be no threat. She wished Mr. Pew would speak before she had to. But he said naught. His expression revealed less.

A silent review of her circumstances revealed the reality Jenny had chosen to avoid. She'd been portraying Steward..a ruse for the moment at Captain Lasseter's suggestion. Could it be that none of them had any intention of trusting her? Would they put her ashore before leaving the reaches of this island? The prospect was more frightening than taking her chances at sea now. Her uncle would not exhaust himself, but slowly and methodically seek her out. There were only so many villages and ports on Martinique and she was a woman travelling alone. No longer did she even posess a horse.

Though this seemed like a long thought process, the realizations flashed one by one through her mind and Jenny was almost incensed at being backhandedly accused. It stung in the Manner Garaud had taken to dealing with her throughout the past year. This somewhat familiar exchange gave bolster to her defiance and she spoke.

"I have explained my position to you before Sir and as it is the truth, my story remains respectfully, unchanged. I desire to leave the opression of my Uncle and the confines of this island. There is nothing to keep me here. I am a free woman and not a slave." She waited intending to go no further, but Captain Brand merely stood in a posture which unmistakably coveyed that she would and must. " Were I to be such a threat..Captain Lasseter would, I think, not have taken me in nor employed me in his service as he has been so kind in doing"

The arrogance of the statement was a mistake..Jenny realized it as the syllables of the last word trailed off more quietly that they had started. She did not posess the courage she had against Martin Garaud. There were no familial ties here. As she'd felt her uncles hand more than once sting her cheek, she feared the strike of Captain Brands next words. Jenny looked away and spoke more quietly, but was careful not to lose the conviction in her tone. "Forgive me Captain, I ...." she stammered for a moment. Having turned half away from Captain Brand she was nonetheless aware that every ounce of his attention lay solely upon her. "I meant no disrespect and yet it seems that I have spoken grossly out of turn. Please forgive me " Jenny turned to face him now. Defiance would come no more, but simple resolve filled her words. "I have made no promises nor have I brought any wrongdoing against your crew or yourselves to my knowledge. I have asked for asylum and passage. The Ship's Master and Captain Lasseter have spoken nothing to me in denial of that. " Jenny wished Mr. Pew would step in for her. Or that any moment the Captain would appear from the steps of the Ward Room. She stood waiting for what seemed an eternity.

[William Brand]

"Taken you aboard or employed you in his service." William repeated, quietly. "Of course. How gracious of Captain Lasseter to offer you the safety of the Lucy, as no such safety was afforded you on the 'Dog. I wonder what my Steward would say to hear you dismiss our Ward Room so casually. I have not had the occasion yet to explain to her how inhospitable you found our sanctuary...so recently quit. Inhospitable enough to drive you openly before a dozen ships on the Cul du Sac Royal and those eyes which fell upon us from the heights of Fort Royal. I thank you for discovering our lack. I must see to it that my table is better defended and dressed for solicitous vagabonds to come."

There was a pause, which would have remained heavy enough, but it was punctuated by thunder rolling off the hills of Martinique and the seacoast.

"If this is all that you have to say on the subject, then I will say no more of it." William said with an air of finality, then added. "Of course, it should not trouble you then to know that Monsieur Durand questioned me at great length but yesterday concerning a Miss Poole. He was careful to note that Miss Poole did not appear anywhere within the pages of our most excellent ledgers. He made no secret of this curiosity, returning to the subject several times and on various points. His curiosity was great enough to encompass the assassin who fired upon my people for reasons unknown." William looked at Preston and then back to Miss Ashcombe. "I have observed men of power in equal earnest, Miss Ashcombe, but few possessed of greater capability than Monsieur Durand."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny felt like an angry, frustrated school child testing limits with a teacher well beyond her in years and ability to parry in an argument.

Unknowingly Captain Brand had struck a nerve in Miss Ashcombe, which delivered more of a blow than his hand could have at that moment.

Jenny despised being made a fool. More than anything, her pride and confidence in her decisions were dear posessions, protected with fierce loyalty.

She fought back both an outburst and tears as the buried tension of three days past threatened to burst beyond repair. Why was this man here?! She wanted to shout "Go away, Go away!" and beat on him with her fists until he ran out. Had he not his own ship and his own issues? Why must he suddenly turn on her? What about the dead man and those missing? Was that not more pressing? Merde! He was no different than Uncle Garaud, condescending to the last! All this panic and anger resulted from the perfect foolishness he revealed in her recent actions. His maddeningly indefensable portrayal of her decisions throttled her composure and she struggled inwardly to remain calm.

However the conditions Jenny had tolerated at Isle De Geneorsite or more correctly at her uncles disdainful hand, served as training.. and the strife she'd sufered oddly repented itself as it benefitted her now.

Outwardly she remained collected. If this was to be Captain Brand's demeanor, then better she had departed the Watch Dog. Jenny knew he'd been correct. It would have been simple to explain that she had continued to run and in her blind panic had not considered the safety of the larger ship and it's crew. However such a statement would revisit his earlier query, now dropped.

She had insulted the Captain.. Who was, she assumed her Captain's superior. Though had she witnessed them together in a casual moment, had she known them more completely, the notion that William Brand considered himself any more than equal would have seemd hard to reconcile.

Her mind raced over his statements and what if any more, she should say. There was the other matter he'd added. Durand.. the heavy smell of liquor on him the night he'd stumbled so inappropriately upon her filled her nostrils again and her stomach with disgust. She could feel the sweat of her palms against the smooth glass of the wine decanter.

"Forgive me again Captain, for my ignorance in your position and abilities being one who comes from a life on land. I meant no insult and perhaps my choice was in haste. Mssr Durand was an..unfortunate aquaintance" At his raised brow she explained the night at the inn , her belief that he did not completely recognise her and wondered if like her uncle, Captain William Brand would find some way to blame her for the mans impaired actions.

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy

"To forget...to conceal...even to misplace such information could damn us all." William said in his quietest voice of the evening looking out at nothing in particular. He said it almost to himself. He was a long time quiet after that and Preston let him have the silence, though he gave Jenny several meaningful looks that were hard to translate. William let the blanket that had warmed him fall about the arms of the chair in which he sat.

Then he began to speak in halting phrases, interrupted by the task of removing his own clinging shirt. If he was conscious about any embarrassment this might cause the new Steward he did not show it, for he undressed without looking up, all the while remaining seated. As he did this he spoke about a sailor named Augustus Muller. "He was a singular man of good carriage. He was well spoken for an able seaman and, as I learned after his death in some conference with others, he was a man of some wit." William had stripped the shirt from his shoulders by then. He ran a hand over a well knit scar at his collarbone. "He kept as much to himself as any of mine might have aboard a ship, until an engagement which held us trapped against the shores of La Desirade." William looked at her with a calm, almost conversational expression. "He shot me just here. The ball passed between the bones of my chest and lodged itself against the interior of my shoulder at the back. I had not the opportunity to turn away, expecting no such attack from the sanctuary of my own ship. However, I was fortunate in this, for had I known to turn but a little in any direction, I might have sounded my own end."

William shivered then, but it was against the cold of the room and not the memory. Still, it had the effect of making him more mortal than before. "Augustus remained aboard ship, his treachery unknown, as did Van Buren, of whom I have spoken before. Their pact of evil remained undiscovered beyond the death of John Sons and two officers of the Danzig. Only when Augustus stood before me in the Ward Room of the 'Dog, pistol in hand, did I know his purpose." William ran a hand through his wet hair, drawing it back from a finite scar which ran along the part there. The scar was so small, that it was all but faded and would be completely gone within a year if not sooner, but William drew attention to it when he explained how the mutinous Augustus had struck him across the skull, knocking him to the floor.

Preston had heard this story several times in pieces, and listened to the details with as much interest as any good listener, for he had an appreciation for good stories. He did notice one difference between this telling and the ones which came before. William was making a point of using Muller's first name throughout the narration, and he had never known William to do so when speaking of Muller. He wondered if Jenny understood the reasoning for it; the demonstration of a more intimate mutiny.

William continued explaining scars, including one on the back of one arm where Augustus had dragged him unconscious through the broken casement of the Ward Room windows. He bared his wrists where the chain scars had not completely faded from his time in the bilge. He did this with no more drama than the displaying of them. His voice had remained quiet all the while. He finished there without conclusion. He did not show the many slivers of scars from the thrice daily beatings he suffered at the hands of his captors. He did not explain his rescue, the death of Jean Micheale Fournier being still too fresh on his mind to speak of his lost friend. He made no mention of the execution of Augustus Muller. He did not amend his story with any cautionary wisdom. He simply reached for the dry shirt waiting for him and slipped it over his head, hiding away a dozen or more stories in the scars they could see elsewhere.

Preston tipped a little of his drink into William's glass then. William smiled at the gesture and they made a toast of no words, each drinking and thinking of times past, Preston from where he stood, and William from his quiet chair. Jenny stood apart.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Belowdecks aboard the Lucy

After being dismissed from the Ward Room, the Coxswain headed to his quarters while being pitched to and fro with the ships movement. A slight bit of worry was on his face as he entered his darkened space. Fumbling a bit, he found the shaded lanthorn and took it back out into the common spaces and lit the candle within off of another. Taking it back into his quarters he hung it on its hook in the overhead. With care he knelt and opened up the box that served as a home to Ash and Cole, his pet rats. Beady eyes stared up at him as he lowered a hand into the box. Both were slightly skitterish, considering the movement of the ship, but calmed quickly as they scented their master. Nigel took each one out and held them both up to the light.

“Is you two a’right? Storm’s a bit rough, aye? Not to worry boys, not to worry.”

He placed them on his sea chest and dug into a pocket, withdrawing a kerchief. In it was wraped some food scraps. A bit of a biscuit, cheese and a quarter of a potato. He broke apart the biscuit and gave a piece to each rat. They sat on their haunches and nibbled away. When finished they both looked to Nigel for more. He spent the next couple of minutes feeding and talking in a soothing manner to his pets, all the while the ship tossed in the sea.

[William Brand]

August 4, 1704 - Aboard the Lucy

William did not ignore Jenny anymore than Preston did, but William soon realized that it might seem so, they being so used to having a Steward about, sight unseen.

"I have served in many a navy, Miss Ashcombe, so let me be plain. I have served in a navy here and a navy there. I have witnessed in my years the subjugation of men. I have, with my own hand, taken up the lash against my friends to keep order in a navy crueler than this. I have, owing to my position, chastised greater men than myself for the purpose of protecting the Whole." William nodded to Preston as he said this. "Whatever you were before, Miss Ashcombe, be it slave or servant, you are now the Steward of my Captain Lasseter, who in another time ruled over me as a just and superior servant of the Whole. He is a singular man like unto no one else, being as righteous a man in frame, wit and spirit as may be had. You may keep any secret you wish, as do many aboard this ship and mine, but let any such secret harm but the lowliest of mine...and I will take up the lash. Let one misdeed from any man here or on the 'Dog cause further harm to my Mister Whittingford, more than his service and loyalty alone have already caused him...and I will take up the lash. This above all...should anyone harm or cause to be harmed my good Captain Lasseter..." William did not finish this final possibility with anything more then a slight tilt of his head. His voice had remained quiet and measured throughout, but for the obvious conclusion in his tone at the end.

"We...sea creatures..." William said, smiling wryly. "...understand the necessity of seeking out what cannot be seen below the surface of that path laid before us. As the path changes, so do the threats unseen." He held out his hands on the table palms up and apart. It was the gesture of 'that is all and there is nothing more to it' and indeed, he and Preston seemed beyond the point, for the spoke freely of other things, having already passed over the obstacles of the moment to safer waters.

They continued in conversation this way for a few minutes and then William excused himself. Preston insisted, more than once, that William should have use of a better space than the berth, but William begged off saying, "It will be tomorrow before I sleep, but I would hear the men talk, sing or snore. I could use the air." He seldom had the chance for any company in sleep, and he made his way to the crowded hammocks forward, content for his alloted width among the crew.

Between seven and eight bells of First Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

Those men off duty in the berth space were making merry of the situation as best they could. With hatches battened down above, even a whisper seemed loud. Stories were told and songs, thought merry, were sung at a low volume. At one point a fine shanty was being sung when slowly from the after section it died from the lips of men. John Black had been leading them and wondered why the men had stopped singing until a man loomed into the light. There stood Captain William Brand in nothing more than shirtsleeves. He nodded to the men and quietly spoke.

“Pray continue, I am but a guest on your ship this night. Where might a free hammock be had?”

An awkward silence followed until one of the powder monkeys cheerful voices, young Mister Rowan, announced loudly that there was one to be had larboard of the galley stove. William made his way to the offered hammock and rolled into it not without almost upsetting it and himself. There he settled and was still. After several glances about, John Black started up the shanty again. After he sang solo for two bars, others joined in, but none as jovial as earlier.

[William Brand]

Those nearest to William remained quiet. He bore their eyes and whispers for a time, but then turned on them so suddenly as to startle a few. "Gentlemen, please...you may speak freely."

"It isn't you...sah...well...it is and it isn't."

"That's a contradiction. From the Latin... Contradictionem if I'm not horribly mistaken, which I most certainly am. I've vomited up enough unsolicited wisdom in the Ward Room as to leave a smell...lingering. Please. Talk. Otherwise I shall have to return there and lap up all that I disgorged. And that is not Latin. That is...French."

There were a few sniggers at this and it loosed a few tongues. "Sah, what I meant to say is that...well...is it true about Klaas?"

"I thought that news would be all about the place by now." William returned, then nodded. "It is true. Beaten and placed rudely down a well." There were grave nods at this and William nodded with them. "A bad business, that. We shall see it finished. Den Oven will know the name of Klaas Scymmelpenninck before he swings." William said with a tone both reassuring and absolute, like a truth already realized. "Be certain of it. Now...if it would not be too rude to the memory of him, might I change the subject to lighter things."

No one seemed too grave to set the matter aside quietly, but quiet they were nonetheless. William also noted how many of the newest sailors looked on from their hammocks with interest. William made a few remarks touching the quality of the hammocks and the service of the Inn Lucy, but when he could not prime anymore conversation than a smile or a nod, he slipped from his hammock. "I must beg the favor of a man of my stature." No one answered. "My stature as a man...being just shy of six feet..." William prompted. "Will not a man of my size lend me clothing dry enough to pass the night? For apart from this shirt I am sodden still."

A man was heard to slip from his bunk and fiddle with his belongings and clothes soon passed through the ranks. William slipped from his wet clothing, all but his shirt remaining. As he could not see Tudor present, he thought perhaps that she might not see him, though it was a passing thought. "As you see, Gentlemen, I am a man...like the rest of you."

"Welll...not so, sah. More...red, sah."

"Aye." William agreed as he began dressing again, for indeed his hair was red throughout and he laughed a little to be observed so much, like a creature of myth in the open. "Carved of white, unblemished alabaster and fashioned throughout with copper filagree." William joked. "Observe what efforts I make daily to keep the greater portion of myself pale, after the Roman fashion."

These last, self deprecating remarks finally hauled down the silent curtains of his office, as men about him bared arms and legs to reveal where the sun touched them little, vying to see who was the most 'Roman'.