The Watch Dog

[Guest]

Tudor stood at the Captains shoulder, her face stern and unmoving. At his decree of what should be done with Tawny's foul corpse, her expression soured ever so slightly, unnoticably even. Even such a burial is better then he deserves. Best to throw the piece of filth onto a garbarge fire where he belongs She thought to herself, not in spite or in anger, but just in a simple determination of what she felt to be justice. He deserved nothing and ashes could not reanimate, the way this man, having been presumed dead, seemed to do.

Looking to the direction the sound of bells tolled from, she sighed simply. This was not the good result they had hoped for, coming to shore, but any news was news; all information was pertinant. No development should ever be left unfulfilled. And as she looked down at the battered and scarred souless, now lifeless, body, the only feeling - the only words that rang true to her was that "It is resolved." She whispered to no one but herself.

As ther bells finished their knell, she pulled herself from her introspection, and stood alert, awaiting the Captain's lead.

[William Brand]

With the gruesome business done, the small band of four fell in with their guide and made their way back to the Admiralty House. As the went, Captain Lasseter explained the many efforts of the French and the men of the Lucy to find den Oven and the missing men, but nothing new had been discovered.

William kept most of his business to himself, except in regards to the waiting and expectant Navarra anchored somewhere offshore. They were now between the pressing decisions of two very different courses. The one would take them to where they knew not in search of men who had vanished off the Earth and unknown fortunes. The other course would take them to promised riches of the present and to Trinidad.

"We must soon send word to the Navarra to go or to wait, unless we divide ourselves to both purposes..."

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the officers of the Watch Dog and Lucy continued on their way. Captain Lasseter grew silent with the knowledge of the decision he and Captain Brand would have to make. Head on seperate paths to meet up later, or abandon one for another. Dorian was also dissapointed they had not found sign of den Oven, and even more dissapointed they had not found the missing crewmen of the Watch Dog. The thought of den Oven on the loose left a sour taste in his mouth. However he was only one man, not of notable power, however he could bring a small force down upon them, if he could find them, and after he regained some face after losing two ships of war to one 'pirate'.

The matter of leaving their men behind troubled him more. Practicality would dictate they leave them. It would be the reasonable thing to do, unless you were the one being left behind.

"William... though we dinna find den Oven, I believe he won't be a trouble to us fer some time... If he makes it back ta th' English r' Dutch... However I am troubled at leavin' those men of ours behind. I fear th' worst fer 'em, but wi'out knowin' fer certain... An' as ye said, we've not the privilege ta waste any more time if we intend ta escort the... Navarra? I will say m' gut tells me we'll not find Wellings n' Ajayi, not here at the least. Wot say you?"

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston had finished his mug and curled it around his hand. He rapped it upon the rail everyone once in awhile just to match the tune he sang to himself.

"Fine day seems, aye sah?" Charlie and Preston had spent the better part of the morning together chatting and regaling tales of their former adventures. Eventually the talk came round to scars and more than one crewman stopped by to add their own to the discussion. A sudden musket report sounded from the stern. Both men and those seaman standing about turned quickly. The smoke cleared quickly to find a mane of copper-brown hair billowing gently in the breeze. Preston thought of Ash's scar for a moment.

"Tha's not a fowlin' piece m' lady," called Peter Norman. The crew on deck laughed. Even Nathaniel Brocke did all he could to stifle a laugh.

"Was that a loaded shot Mister Brocke?" Preston asked the sergeant-at-arms.

"Nah sah. Jus' powder," replied Nate. The laugh erupted again. Preston leaned down to Geoffrey and whispered in his ear. The lad took off below deck.

"Mister Brocke, if ye'd be s' kind as to load a shot 'n both muskets."

"Aye sah."

"Mister Norman step forward." The brawny 20 year old stepped forward flashing his toothless grin. Preston was handed a musket from Nate which he in turn handed to Peter. Nate loaded the second and handed it to Preston. He shook his head and nodded towards Jenny.

"Sah!" Geoffrey yelped as he handed two bottles to the ship's master.

"Thank you Mister Wayne." Preston took the two bottles and made sure the cork was secured in each. He hurled the bottles over the stern rail into the harbor. Peter rushed to the rail and took aim. "One moment, Mister Norman," Preston stated curtly.

"Sah, how am I suppossed to hit the bott..." Peter was cut off by the sound of the second musket being fired. He spun to see Jenny in a cloud of smoke. The crew was silent.

Preston called atop the mainmast, "Wot say you Mister Smyth?" The crew looked to the ship's lookout.

"A good shot sah. No bottle t' be seen." A low murmur could be heard among the crew. Jenny Ashcombe smirked at Peter. Peter shrugged the look off smartly and put the weapon to his shoulder. He scanned the gentle waves and could just make out the bottle some distance south of the Lucy. Peter breathed deeply and fired.

The crew rushed to the rail. "Mister Smyth, your report?" called Preston again.

"Hard t' say sah," shouted Andrew.

The crew scanned the harbor for any sign of the bottle. Several 'huzzahs' went up for Peter until Mister Goddon called Peter to the rail.

Charlie pointed south-south-east of the Lucy. He placed his hand on Peter's shoulder, "I do believe she's still afloat Mister Norman."

"DAMN!" stammered Peter. The crew laughed out loud at his missed shot and cheered for the Captain's steward.

"Mister Norman."

"Aye, Master Whitingford" Peter replied with what clenched teeth he had remaining.

"Mister Wayne could use your help b'low sifting th' pistol powder."

[William Brand]

There was nothing more to say on the matter. Nothing worth saying. The capture and killing of Tawny notwithstanding, the trip ashore seemed fruitless, so their return to the Admiralty House was quiet and slow.

William limped a little and when Dorian gave him an inquisitive look, he admitted some small discomfort in his hip, owing to an unexpected swim the night before and a healthy jaunt to the home of Monsieur Dubernard. William smiled a little at some private thought, but said no more about the matter.

Bill Flint, sober at the best of times when on duty, was quieter still for having killed Tawny. He still had dried blood on his hands, but showed no sign of caring. Instead, he walked a little taller and with an air of thoughtfulness.

The Admiralty House loomed and William was not in the mood to stop there. He tried to conjure some reason, some excuse, not to go in and explain the death of Tawny and his pressing need to depart, but with so many pawns in play, immediate departure was impossible. 'I'm deceiving myself.' William thought, for he was somewhat thankful to be delayed, though he never would have admitted it aloud.

"Let us make short work of pleasantries." he murmured. Dorian agreed.

[Dorian Lasseter]

When the officers of the Watch Dog and Lucy reached the Admiralty House, they entered and were led to the office of the Judge. He welcomed them all amicably and introductions were made between him and Captain Brand and his Steward, Miss Smith. With respect yet in a hurried state, the story of Tawny was given to the Judge, he in turn told of the soldiers of the garrison and the marines of the Lucy had all returned empty-handed. Judge Richet invited them to stay for the midday meal, but the officers regrettably declined, excusing themselves back to their ships. Farewells were exchanged for the present, with the possibility of a return if luck smiled upon them. As they made their way back to the wharf, Dorian knew there were other things amiss.

“Cap’n… Ye seem overly troubled… Bein’ rid o’ Tawny, truly rid of ‘im hasn’t set any relief to ye. I know th’ missin’ men are a worry, but wot else has ye on edge?”

[William Brand]

"We are beset on all sides by troubles." William said as he took Dorian aside in confidence. He was quiet for a time before he began explaining the arduous matter of Miss McDonough and here rendezvous with the English Captain. Once he had begun, William spared no detail that he could remember and he was not surprised to see the cloud which he had carried all but alone since yesterday, overshadow Captain Lasseter.

[Dorian Lasseter]

When William had finished his tale, Dorian stood quietly. The only sign of life in him was a slow steady breathing and the occasional blink of his eyes. He stared straight ahead, yet saw nothing, all senses turned inward. He stood like this for somewhere in the area of half a minutes time, then suddenly was in motion, walking semi-woodenly at a medium pace. Captain Lasseter did not know if his companions had kept up with him or had been left behind when he suddenly began walking. As he set foot on the wharf he just as abruptly stopped. Again he stood silently, but this time he slowly removed his hat and smoothed back his hair. Looking down at his hat in hand, he raised it as if to place it back upon his crown. Instead, he did something completely different. Dorian violently battered the nearest piling with his cocked hat, beating the wooden post several times. Not a word, not a sound escaped his lips but for a grunt or two from the exertion. Then Captain Lasseter stopped, looked at his hat again. This time he held it gently and began to brush it off, reshape it, to put it back to its old self. He accomplished this for the most part, and settled it firmly on his crown. Setting his coat right he turned to find his companions just behind him.

"Beg yer pardon... Let us return to our ships and tend to our crews. Master Flint, have th' marines come aboard and take their ease for now. Cap'n Brand, once we be settled I b'lieve we might convene in yer ward room to discuss... matters, more fully..."

Master Flint knuckled his brow and took to heart his orders. Dorian waited, looking as if nothing had happened.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

The men returned to their posts. Sullen, Peter trudged below under the guise of the powder monkey. Preston nodded at Nate and Ash and merely stated, "As you were."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Deck of The Lucy

Jenny hadn't expected the force with which the ship's musket threw back her shoulder. The double shot of powder caused a few flecks to blow back in the breeze and sting her wrist as the barrel went high, punctuating the sting of laughter and comment from Peter Norman. Nathaniel Broke who had been friendly to her before, tried to give her a look of encouragement despite stifling a chuckle himself.

Determined, Miss Ashcombe recentered the now loaded musket in her hands. It was heavier and thicker than the fowling piece she'd used many times. She would be laughed at no more at least this day and stood a moment thinking of the man who had taught her to shoot during her early days in the Colonies. He'd been a farmer by trade, who spent some time in the militia and was known as one of the better hunters locally. Remembering his words now Jenny cradled the musket, feeling it's weight and letting it find it's balance in her hands. She was surprised to suddenly notice the difference, appreciating the trigger guard which was closer than that of the fowler allowing the user more control. The muskets lock was heavier and required more force as she eased it back. Jenny focused on the target and again thought of the words softly spoken the first few times shed ever fired a loaded weapon. She drew in her breath slowly as she sighted the bottle, holding it as she slowly applied pressure to the trigger. Jenny felt the deck beneath her feet, adjusting this time to the extra motion. Concentration, stillness and the musket reported solidly.

When the smoke cleared Jenny felt exhilaration as a call came down she'd actually hit the target! Unable to hide a smirk amongst the cheers, she searched the water having only hoped to have landed a shot near the bottle as it bobbed. Mister Brocke wore a wide grin below his blond locks and gave her a curt nod.

She thanked Peter Norman feeling bad for the jeers he suffered and would have asked for them both to have another go but Mister Pew dismissed them shortly and Jenny displayed little more than a smile as she returned to the Ward Room. Once behind closed door she gave a small jump and allowed herself girlish emotion away from the eyes of the crew and Ship's Master. Perhaps she would fit in, thought she cautioned herself against luck and hoped to have more time to learn what skills she did posess.

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - At St. Pierre

The French fetched up a small boat sufficient to carry all of them back to the Lucy and Watch Dog. They boarded with the resolve to quit the island and all of the mysteries unresolved there. William lifted his hat high once in the direction of the two ships, certain that the lookouts would have already noted their eminent return. They were floated out from the wharf as he did this and William turned his thoughts to the Navarra.

The day was a fine one, despite events, and it was easy to forget Martinique, even though it lay less than a hundred feet behind them. The Lucy and the Watch Dog bobbed lightly under a promising sky and the whole area offshore was covered in boats, some fishing and others loading and unloading frigates at anchor. William wondered then what secret cargos lay within their soon to be Spanish companion. He pondered several possibilities, plausible and ridiculous, and was soon making enumerable estimation about her tonnage and purposes.

William was brought from these thoughts when Dorian placed his hand on William's shoulder. Dorian was not looking out to sea, but to shore. William turned about to see a Frenchman, sometimes standing, sometimes bent over out of breath, waving to them from the shore.

"What now...?" William muttered, despising Martinique for its troubles.

The man on shore straightened and called again, his words almost lost on a wind which carried it elsewhere.

"Capitaine Brand! J'apporte des nouvelles!"

William's face notably darkened. "Blasted island."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter made to take his hat off again, but refrained. He took in a long, slow breath, held it for a moment and just as slowly let it out.

"Would the news he has be good and not bad... Shall we return William?"

Captain Brand nodded and Dorian had the boat reverse her course and back the officers went to the wharf, where the man now stood with a folded parchment in his hand, holding it up for all to see. Dorian slowly shook his head and mumbled.

"Just quit this island, and he I am, about ta set foot on 'er again... All I want is ta be back aboard m'ship an' be away..."

The Boat bumped along the wharf, lines tied off. Captain Lasseter motioned to Captain Brand for him to take the ladder first, as privilege of rank. And also to delay his own landing, even if by one minutes time.

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - The docks of St Pierre

William rose from his place in the boat, but would not take the ladder. Instead, he reached out and snatched the letter from the man's outstretched hand with the expression of one interrupted at a dinner gathering. The messenger was neither ruffled or put off by this. Instead, the man looked eager, and seemed anxious for the note to be read. William took this for a good sign. He unfolded it, read it twice, then passed it to Dorian.

It read as follows...

Capitaine Brand,

It is with pleasure and urgency that I must inform you of the discovery of your man, Monsieur Wellings. He has been found badly beaten and in decay, owing to a pistol ball buried in his left armpit. I have dispatched this messenger to bring you word and escort you back again.

-D. Durand

William and Dorian exchanged a look that was filled with questions and answers. William turned to Miss Smith. "You will return to the Watch Dog and fetch the surgeon, Miss Smith. Have her brought to some place here, near the wharf that will serve as surgery and shelter when we return with Mister Wellings."

"Aye, Sah."

Dorian was already giving orders to Mister Flint to bear news back again to the Lucy and the Ship's Master. William waited for a pause and interjected. "With your blessing, Captain, have the Lucy sent to bring our apologies to Capitán Avendano aboard the Navarra, with assurance that we shall join him at anchor no later than the morning."

[Dorian Lasseter]

The news given was a mix of good and bad... Good in as much as Mister Wellings had been found. Bad since he had been mortally wounded and Ajayi had not been found with him.

Dorian tilted his head to the side and his neck audibly cracked, and he straightened.

"Aye-aye, Master Flint, ye heard Cap'n Brand. Settle th' marines an' have Master Pew set sail ta meet wi' th' Navarra. Inform Cap'n Avendano that our ships have been delayed, as Cap'n Brand says, no later than th' morn..."

Flint knuckled his brow and gave a curt nod. Dorian again held a hand out so as to allow William to depart first.

Edited December 6, 2008 by Dorian Lasseter

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704

Up they went, and with them came an extra pistol and musket. William almost declined them, but as he couldn't see the hurt in taking along some added protection, he was obliged to accept them. He gave a few last orders to Miss Smith and assured both her and Bill that they could be free with the news of Tawny's death and Welling's condition to anyone who would hear.

This done, they waited not a minute more, calling for a carriage and tipping the driver handsomely as incentive for haste. The man, being no fool, whipped the horses and the carriage was on the move even before their French guide was soundly in his seat.

What followed was a ride both quick and far too slow. The subtle adrenaline of curiosity kept them from any comfort as they went, as did the unimproved road and the speed of the carriage. They spent the first few minutes pressing the messenger with many questions. To his credit, he was direct and made no assumptions, careful to point out that he was not privy to all the facts as touching their man Wellings. He did expound upon Joshua's injuries, saying that one eye had been badly dashed, but that someone had 'put it right again'.

William made a face at this, for he had heard of such injuries before, and could only imagine the unpleasantness of it.

Dorian asked many questions about Joshua's color, insisting on an accurate explanation of Mister Welling's countenance and demeanor. The Frenchman, a Monsieur Amaud Desmarais, explained that Wellings had been awake when he was dispatched and that while his color was not so good for a wounded man, it was not so bad either.

While none of these responses helped reassure them, they helped pass the time.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

"Ahoy the Lucy," called a longboat just off the starboard bow. Andrew Smyth had sighted the craft when it was several cable lengths off. He replied. The marine looked below from the main and asked Geoffrey to fetch Mister Pew from the Ward Room. Those crew on deck looked over the rail to see Bill Flint and Tudor Smith rapidly approaching.

____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: At anchor, bow facing E

Speed: At rest

Wind: Light northeasterly winds, light breeze, 2-4 knots, very small wavlets,

[Red Cat Jenny]

Mr. Pew had barely entered the ward room before a knock at the door brought a slender lad into the small office. He saluted as he spoke, haste in his message as he reported a craft on aproach with members of the Watch Dog and their own crew on board. Pew motioned to Jenny to follow and she strained to see past them as they headed to the waist.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Alongside the Lucy

Bill Flint brought the small boat alongside the Lucy and hooked it to her main chains. He helped Miss Smith, who didn't actually need help, aboard. Master Whitingford was there in the waist, along with Mister Brocke and Miss Ashcombe. Master Flint stood at attention and knuckled his brow before giving a report.

"Compliments a' Captain Lasseter, Sah! He and Captain Brand received word of Mister Wellings and have gone to retrieve him. Captain Brand, with the agreement of Captain Lasseter, orders ye ta deliver a message to th' Navarra an her captain. I am ta bring the marines from shore and we're to up anchor and make haste. Permission ta take a crew an' the Jollywatt to collect the marines, Sah."

[Pew]

Preston's eyes widened at the very thought of command. Preston wanted a complete report immediately. Is he to return to St. Pierre? Shall he bring the Navarra north? What is he to tell the Captain? Flint had been purposely brief. Preston was immediately frustrated. His better sense told him a full report with the ship's officers would be more fruitful in proffering the details of the evenings sail.

"Very well, Misters Cosset and Milling are t' man th' sweeps. A full r'port upon your return t' th' Lucy Mister Flint."

"Aye sir, yes sir."

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - The Lucy and the Watch Dog

They went over and down into the jollywatt, and in the revolutions of the smallboat, Tudor was brought again to the Watch Dog. She departed the small boat with no more than a thank you, anxious to report all that had transpired ashore to the Ship's Master. Bill flint, anxious also, was brief with his words and the jollywatt was propelled to shore.

Tudor came over the rail and down to the deck, where she was not surprised to find a small crowd gathered which included several officers of the frigate. She explained the discovery and demise of Tawny, pausing amidst several profane and profound exclamations from the others, before continuing. As she passed on the intentions of the two Captains, the men of the 'Dog looked past her to the Lucy, where already there were men going aloft.

Jim Warren sent Tudor to the surgery to fetch the Doctor. Then he ordered out the longboat and called for a crew to be ready at the waist. Provisions of a day's rations and powder for marines were sent for and men began to assemble at once.

[Pew]

The trip ashore went sooner than expected with a <thud> as the bow of the jollywatt rubbed against the wharf. Bill Flint, still with Tawny on his mind, needed to be prodded from thought to help tie off the craft.

Bill climbed out of the small boat in search of his marines. He found them just ashore of the wharf. Harold Press was the first of the Lucy to catch sight of Bill Flint. He wet his forefinger and thumb, put them to his lips and blew hard. A loud screeching whistle burst forth from Harold. Each of the Lucy's marines poking about the town immediately reported to the wharf where they were met by the Master-at-arms. In a brief moment they were aboard the jollywatt awaiting transport to the Lucy.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Cox'n, Mister Brisbane hadn't been on duty for an hour when the Ships Master called the men to loose canvas and make ready to sail. He was a might confused, not being yet privy to the situation at hand. Men were sent aloft and others roused to haul lines on deck. The capstan was rigged to weigh anchor. All aboard had been roused to ready the ship, and many were just as confused as to why such haste was necessary. Some looked to the Watch Dog and noticed some activity there, but nothing as pressing. Nigel walked aft and was met by Lucky Tuck, who also wore a mildly confused look.

"Wot's alla th' rush about? N' where's Cap'n Lasseter?"

"Dunno, Tuck... We best ask Mister Pew..."

"Aye, right where I were headed..."

With a nod, both men headed to the Quarterdeck and inquired of Mister Whitingford of what the situations was that warranted such actions.

Just befor Four Bells of the Afternoon Watch

Larboard Watch on duty, all hands called on deck

Edited December 10, 2008 by Dorian Lasseter

[Guest]

Purposefully, Tudor made her way below to the medical quaters, repeating the Captains orders in her mind, using such repetition to drown out they myriad of other thoughts that were echoing, vying for attention, in her mind.

Thoughts of Tawny, the trouble he had caused and recent demise . . . "You will return to the Watch Dog and fetch the surgeon, Miss Smith She focused on these words and soon the macabre yet satisfying vision of the scoundrel's corpse faded from view.

As she neared the surgery's door, the reason for her quest distracted her thoughts. She pondered on Wellings, wondering how it was with him, hoping the need for a doctor was not great. While she knew him as well as any other of her crewmates - which was not well at all - she could not help but dread the loss of another of the odd family that had been made of the ships occupants. Too many had been lost already. Many far closer had been lost in what seemed like lifetimes previous. "Have her brought to some place here, near the wharf that will serve as surgery and shelter when we return with Mister Wellings"

Standing at a strict attention and rapping on the door, Tudor fought hardest to focus. Being in this particular area of the ship still made her feel ill at ease, for the seldom mentioned memories they held. How she always, in times not so long past, would carefully observe this door, for who might be exiting through it. "No," She snarled to herself, commanded herself to focus her attention.

This time she spoke quietly to herself the orders she bore, as she waited for someone to answer the door. " 'Return to the Watch Dog and fetch the surgeon. Have her brought to some place here, near the wharf that will serve as surgery and shelter when we return with Mister Wellings' "

Edited December 10, 2008 by MercenaryWench

[Pew]

"Gentlemen," Preston offered both the Cox'un and the Bo'sun as they approached the ship's master.

"Mister Pew, wot be for the scurrying about?" asked Nigel.

"Mister Flint brought 's word from the Captains that we are t' make sail for the Navarra back 't the harbor of Fort Royal. The Watch Dog will join 's on th' morrow." Nigel and Christopher waited a moment longer as if Preston had something else to say. "Tha's all I know. Mister Flint has gone ashore t' collect our marines. He will report business ashore 'n his return."

Preston nodded briefly and left the officers on the quarterdeck. He yelled for those in the waist to man the capstan. Eight men immediately moved to within the poles. Preston moved to the bow to watch as William DeWitt and Valentine Duvale readied themselves to guide the cable as they had done before on the Maastricht. He then stood at the rail and shielded his eyes to watch for Bill and the marines. As soon as he saw the jollywatt, he called for the men to begin hauling in the anchor. Several grunts and groans from the men were replaced by a low hum. The ship's master stood on the rail and held himself in the rigging. He could hear a low voice, "Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile, Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile, Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile." Preston listened for a moment and watched the capstan slowly begin to rotate. "Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh!" A song began to emerge from Patrick and Cyrus. Ian sung what he could, but did not know all of the words as the brothers continued.

""Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile,

Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile,

Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile,

Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh!

‘Sé do bheatha a bhean ba léanmhar,

B’é ár gcreach tú bheith i ngéibhinn,

Do dhúiche bhreá i seilibh meirleach...

Is tú díolta leis na Gallaibh!

Tá Gráinne Mhaol ag teacht thar sáile,

Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda,

Gaeil iad féin is ní Gaill ná Spáinnigh...

Is cuirfidh siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh!

A bhuí le Rí na bhFeart go bhfeiceann,

Muna mbíonn beo ina dhiaidh ach seachtain,

Gráinne Mhaol is míle gaiscíoch...

Ag fógairt fáin ar Ghallaibh!"

The men had the cable slowly returning aboard the Lucy. Under full strain, the capstan stopped. Lucky Tuck shielded his eyes as he looked to the ship's master, "Mayhaps the marines could lend a hand Mister Pew?"

"Aye Tuck, th' bower may be stuck b'low."

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve stood over her tools as she came down from the adrenaline of being startled awake by Miss Smith's knocking. Rubbing her hands over her eyes again, she double checked the items in her bag based on Tudor's description of Mr. Wellings' injuries and nodded to herself. Maeve also second guessed her decision to have BriarRose stay behind in the surgery with Luigi and Treasure, but as the Captain had only ordered the surgeon ashore, she pushed her doubts aside as she made to leave the surgery with Miss Smith. Briar looked after her with obvious anxiety and some frustration, but merely smiled comfortingly at Maeve as she left.

Tudor and Maeve found the marines waiting as they reached the waist of the ship. With all due haste, they made their way down into the longboats to make their way into St. Pierre.