The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704

William and Dorian were not familiar with the many pockets of civilization which existed North of St. Pierre. They watched villages and plantations pass by as they made their way up the coast. The road was poor in places, owing to the encroaching jungle and the recent rains. They could soon see the church of St. Joseph and the outskirts of Ville du Le Precheur looming, but before reaching the village itself, they slowed and stopped before a modest looking place that served as a drinking house for two neighboring plantations. It was a converted barn of sorts and the establishment seemed to take full advantage of this by utilizing stables on one side for the convenience of its patrons. It was painted plainly everywhere but at the front. Here it was an uncommon red and it carried a sign which bore the name Le Coq.

Understanding at once that this was the place they were to rendezvous, they departed the carriage with haste, though William was troubled a little in his course. One of his legs had fallen asleep and it was all but dead for the first few strides. Dorian made the door before William and held it for them both. They went in together with their guide following.

Le Coq was bright place within. Doors at either side of the establishment were left open to let the air through. It had an earthy smell mixed with wood and rum, and under any other circumstance, William and Dorian would have liked the place at once.

Monsieur Desmarais gestured to a place at the back. "Capitaines..."

They crossed the room, observed only by two customers at that hour. They passed beyond two great tables and a fireplace of mammoth proportions to find a French marine standing guard before an open doorway. Beyond him lay the modest, but bright quarters of the proprietor and here on a table covered with straw and thick blankets lay their missing man, Joshua Wellings.

The man and women attending to him were obliged to step aside as William and Dorian each went to a different side of the table. They searched his features for signs of distress and were not pleased to see that his color was less promising than Monsieur Desmarais had described. He had a bandage on his left forearm which seemed to cover some minor injury. He was bare chested and heavily bandaged, with a great deal of blood staining the wrappings at his left side. His right cheek had a mean, bruised lump covered over with broken blood vessels and his left eye was horribly swollen, so that it looked as ripe as a plum.

The rest of him seemed fine, but for some minor cuts and scrapes elsewhere. The lower half of his frame was wrapped carefully in fresh linen and their were signs everywhere else that he had been tended to with great care.

"Merci, Monsieur...Dames." William said quietly, but it was enough that Joshua opened his one good eye.

"Cap'n." he said hoarsely, and actually smiled. William gripped the man's good arm. Joshua turned a little to see Dorian. "You're bleeding, sah."

Back at St. Pierre

The long boat passed within speaking distance of the jollywatt. Eric Franklin tipped his hat a little in Bill's direction and called across the water. "I hear ya did good service, Mister Flint!"

"Aye!" Bill returned, and Eric snorted at this understated reply.

"Carry on, my good fellow." he replied, shaking his head a little.

They continued in their course and the longboat soon bumped up against the docks at St. Pierre. Eric Franklin went up first and assisted Miss O'Treasaigh and Miss Smith up the ladder. They were joined by Alan Woodington, Manus Hingerty and Pascal. Eric raised his hat in salute to Ciaran aloft on the 'Dog and the small band made their way into the throng.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian put his hand to his chin. Drawing it away there was fresh blood from the wound he had received from Tawny.

"Never you mind that Mister Wellings, rest easy..."

He shot William with a look of concern, not knowing if they might ask of what had happened or just make sure he was comfortable. William seemed to be searching his thoughts while looking at the bandages on Wellings soaked with his blood. Dorian turned and asked as best he could if he had been given food or drink lately, and how he fared for it.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Though Maeve hadn’t been upon the Watch Dog for very long, she laughed inwardly at feeling a bit surprised by the strangely resolute, non-moving nature of solid ground. Of course she’d expected it, but it never ceased to amaze and completely occupy her senses every time. Her steps felt awkwardly wooden and plodding as she fell in with Miss Smith behind the Marines. She kept a hand on her hat as they walked, the strong breeze threatening to make small work of her hastily and loosely tied strings.

The small group arrived shortly at the Admiralty House where Mr. Franklin proceeded to inquire about finding a space for Mr. Wellings from the officer on duty, Lieutenant Barclay. He complied with their request readily enough upon hearing the circumstances and directed the group to the Customs House of Aglionby. It was a spacious place and the clerk’s office they were led to overlooked the docs via large, ornate windows. Two clerks, busy in their ledgers, squinted and looked up in surprise as they all entered the room. Both men, in their 40’s, were identical in appearance. They conversed quickly in French with Lieutenant Barclay who explained that they had need of space within this room to house an injured man in need of surgery. This prospect did not appear to be welcomed by these brothers who began to argue that any other space would serve just as well. They argued for some time before the Lieutenant, nonplussed by their obvious resentment, stated matter-of-factly that the issue was not up for discussion and instructed the men to help make the place ready for delivery of the patient. Mr. Franklin hid a chuckle beneath his hand, turning to cough politely. The men glared daggers at the Lieutenant, who merely winked at Maeve and Miss Smith even as a placid and half-laughing smile played across his features. The two women exchanged quick glances with each other, eyes smiling, and Mr. Franklin coughed again. In short order, the clerks gathered up a few ledgers and writing supplies for themselves and left the room, cursing and issuing threats under their breaths about the state the room had better be in when they returned. Lieutenant Barclay bowed politely at the door, still smiling. “Good day to you all”, he said and then departed, closing the door behind him. Mr. Franklin sent Hingerty and Pascal after the Lieutenant to keep watch for the return of the Captains and Mr. Wellings. In the meantime he, Tudor, Alan and Maeve set to work making the space ready for the patient.

Edited December 11, 2008 by Maeve O'Treasaigh

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - Martinique

The conversation between the proprietors and Dorian went slowly, even with the offered assistance of Monsieur Desmarais. It was explained that Joshua Wellings, like Tawny before him, had been discovered in the road. He had been brought immediately to Le Coq and tended to by those present; a Monsieur Villette, his wife and their niece. All that could be done to make him comfortable had been done and a messenger had been dispatched to St. Louis, only to discover the man's ship already departed.

Joshua himself tried interjecting several times, and William's attempts to calm the man failed, not because of any fevered hysterics on the part of Wellings, but rather the contrary. Joshua simply wished to explain matters he deemed of more importance. Fearing that Joshua's urgency would cause him greater strain then the effort of talking, William urged him speak freely. "Go on, Mister Wellings. What would you have us know."

"I'm sorry, Sah." Wellings began. "I could no' stop 'em."

"None of that, Mister Wellings. Tell us what you can, from the beginning."

"But, Sah...sen Oven is gone from prison an' 'e took..."

William was already nodding. "Aye. We have some knowledge on that matter." He reassured Wellings that they knew of the escape and had evidences of some things at St. Louis and St. Pierre. Joshua confirmed the discovery of den Oven on the streets of St. Louis and the attack on Klaas Scymmelpenninck, but he had no knowledge of the Dutchman's unceremonious burial down the well. He was very troubled on this matter, having been blind-sided and stunned in the attack.

"I though'..I thought 'e 'ad gone for 'elp..." Wellings looked a little stricken then, for had imagined Klaas still alive, having not found him after the initial attack. It grieved William to see the wounded man injured further by this news, but he asked him to explain all if he could. What followed was a narration that would never need embellishment to keep the attention of the most inattentive listener for years to come.

Joshua Wellings, Ajayi Aboudon and Klaas Scymmelpenninck had been about their business in town when they came upon den Oven and his fellow conspirators quite by accident. They had all but passed the men on horseback in the dark when Scymmelpenninck put up the alarm, having recognized the Captain beneath the man's disguise. Everything happened quickly then. One of the riders had leveled a pistol at Joshua, but owing to the heavy weather of those few days, the powder of the pistol had been damp. So weak was it, that it discharged with a force too small to drive the ball through Joshua's face, but it went a long way to explaining the mean lump on his cheek and the strange stippling and burns that William and Dorian had failed to notice, due to the thoroughness of his caretakers.

Dorian hissed both at the idea of the bruise and the uncommon luck of Mister Wellings, then said as much. William remarked that Joshua would feel the mark for a good two months at least, having been bruised on the bone himself many times before. They pressed Wellings to continue.

Joshua explained that the shot to his face had over-righted him and he had crashed to the cobblestones, upsetting Ajayi as he did so. The two men had collapsed to the ground in a pile, with Joshua nearly unconscious. In that moment, all of his senses had been taken away and he couldn't be certain what had happened immediately following, being so utterly dazed by the closeness of the pistol shot. Indeed, he was half blinded at the time and his ears had rung for several hours afterward. He vaguely remembered some awful shouts and being kicked soundly in the side, which he later learned was a pistol ball. Still, he had returned to himself in time with the assistance of adrenaline, alarm, and the sound of his attackers taking flight again on horseback. He had decided then to set off on foot after them. He had done this for two reasons. First, Klaas and Ajayi had gone, for he could not find them in any direction that he searched, so he had surmised that the Dutchman and Yoruban were bound for the Watch Dog or a magistrate. As he himself had been laid out by pistol shot, he assumed that they had thought him dead and gone for help. He further surmised that it was beneficial to himself and the whole company to pursue the men to divine their course of escape that he might bring the news back to the Watch Dog. If his fellows were already in pursuit, he would be adding to their numbers by pursuit himself. Also, as he went, he had argued to himself that one or both of his companions might now be captive, so pursuit had been more important still.

"Surely someone had heard...?" William offered.

"Patrons o' Le Cavalier..." Dorian added.

"Aye, sah. Many, sah...bu' I was blas'e' see? My wits no' abou' me. I di' no' wait..."

"No one there would have known what happened in so short a span." William offered.

"Aye, sah...so I ran. Ran af'er 'em, see?"

"Aye." William agreed, though he could hardly imagine the man doing so, especially looking at him now. "Go on, Mister Wellings."

"I foun' a man 'r two tha' 'ad seen 'em an' made my way, bu' I was slow, see, so I go' me a 'orse..." Joshua paused then, looking at the French marine before amending. "I stole i', sah." he said, softer than before.

William looked at Monsieur Desmarais, who shrugged and said, "Acquis afin de la loi..."

William smiled. "He says that it is nothing."

"Go on, lad." Dorian said, reassuringly, for he could not imagine that the theft of a horse under such circumstances could amount to much, especially as Wellings looked to be dead well before... He didn't finish this thought. "Go on."

"I don' know where I was, sah. I think I...I don' know, sah."

"When did you learn of your wound here?" William asked, gesturing to Joshua's left side.

"Don' know, sah. I' were raining, see...an' I was in me coat."

"Wouldn't have felt the damp." Dorian said to William, who nodded. They both looked down at Joshua as William explained that den Oven had probably quit the island near St. Pierre owing to evidence discovered there. William further explained that Ajayi was not found and no word of him had come. Joshua was loathe to learn that he had passed though St. Pierre and the country beyond in a daze of blood loss, only to have travelled well beyond the conspirators.

"Sorry, sah." Wellings said, more than once.

"What reason could you have for apologies, Mister Wellings?" William said, saddened to hear such words come out of the broken, misused man before him. "You have done more in injury than anyone might do."

"Here, here." Dorian added. "You rest, lad. Rest easy."

Joshua did so, his eyes closed from fatigue, weakness and self doubts he couldn't quite escape and the Captains turned aside in conference.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As William and Dorian stepped aside in conference, Dorian watched the creases form on Williams' brow, just as sure as they were forming on his own. Captain Lasseter cast his eyes to the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts and what could be assumed, given the information. He heard Captain Brand gently clear his throat and looked at him. William had his head bowed slightly, hands clasped behind his back. When Dorian spoke, he did so softly.

"Wellin's a strong one, damned lucky too... I think wi' proper care, he'll heal up just as strong..."

William did not move, but to just as softly reply, 'Aye'. They stood a moment longer before seeming to recover from a stupor. Captain Brands' head snapped up and Dorian cleared his throat and spoke evenly.

"Dunno wot yer thoughts are, Cap'n, but I fear den Oven and whomever his accomplices are took Ajayi as... payment... to whomever might take them off the island. I have no doubt the man went with much fight in him."

He spoke softly again.

"I am even more so of a mind to quit this island, the sooner th' better... But I'll not be one to judge weather Wellings can be put to sea in his state..."

William had done little to acknowledge what his junior Captain had said, but to nod slightly at points. Dorian turned back and looked at Wellings a moment and brought a hand thoughtfully to his chin and suddenly winced slightly as a fingertip found the cut on his chin.

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - Le Coq

At this, William motioned to the proprietor and asked him to fetch Dorian a clean cloth. Then he asked Monsieurs Villette and Desmarais what had become of L'Ours and why he was not present. They explained that Durand had gone again to backtrack Wellings' route to St. Pierre to discover whatever he may. Desmarais had accompanied him most of the way, but they had parted just North of St. Pierre, with Desmarais bound for the 'Dog and Durand to destinations unknown.

William felt anxious. He crossed the room once to the window and looked out over the fields beyond. He crossed back to Wellings and he questioned his own wisdom in not bringing the doctor as he looked the man over. The man's color was poor to be sure, but Joshua's will alone seemed strong enough to sustain him.

William gestured to Joshua's eye with an inquisitive look thrown in Villette's direction and the man explained that Wellings had been found lying in a rocky place in the road where he had fallen or been thrown from the stolen horse. William raised his head a little with closed eyes. "Twice shot and then to be injured from a fall." He made several inquiries about the injuries to Mister Wellings, hoping this would ease his decision. It didn't. William turned to the man and leaned close. "You know your own strength, Mister Wellings."

Wellings opened his good eye and said, "Aye, sah."

"We have come in haste and found you here with no doctor. Your wound is well wrapped, but the ball remains. A man so injured might do well in a place such as this, if a surgeon might be brought. Our surgeon awaits at St. Pierre, but she must be brought here to you or you to her. To bring here here I must send a messenger again to fetch her. To bring you there I must place you in a carriage and brave the poor road with you so wounded."

Wellings swallowed once. "Sah, they are kind 'ere, bu' I would no' be lef' behind, sah."

"Nor would we leave you, Mister Wellings."

"I'll brave the carriage, sah."

"Good fellow."

[Pew]

The jollywatt bumped alongside the Lucy. Hands were offered to help the marines and their weapons back aboard. Several pats on the back and greetings were shared again. In a matter of moments, the jollywatt had been swung aboard and secured. Those marines arriving fell in line round the capstan and immediately strained their backs in time with those men already present.

"Cyrus, 's you were," called Preston from the rail. Mister O'Madden started with a low hum and then continued his song where he and his brother left off.

"Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile, Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile, Óró ‘Sé do bheatha ‘bhaile," they sang. They wove round and round stomping in their inner circle a path well beaten by sailors before.

The capstan groaned and slowed nearly to stop again, when, at once regained twice the momentum it had previously. "Mister Tucker, have your men secure th' bower. Mister Brisbane," called Preston. He turned from the bow and saw that Nigel and Logan were already at the tiller.

"Aye Mister Pew," returned the call forward.

"Set 's course back t' Fort Royal harbor. An' I'll need y' promptly 'n th' ward room."

"Aye, Mister Pew."

At once the deck was a flurry of activity. Those men of the larboard watch had scurried into the rigging. The anchor had broken the surface of the water. The Lucy had slowly come about on her stern and was now facing southwest running before the wind.

"Prepare t' make sail!"

The wind was full astern and Preston looked out to sea. He could feel the wind at his back and gauged its speed to be five or six knots.

"Lead along topsail sheets," Preston called above. He waited one moment longer, "Lay out and loose!" Nigel pushed the tiller to starboard just as the sail caught the full breath of the wind.

"Man the jib halliards! Clear away the downhaul! Hoist away!"

The Lucy rolled on her hull a bit as she gained speed. The ship's master called next for the mainsail to be set. Calloused hands pulled at the yards to trim the sail. Preston jumped down from the rail and made his way aft. "Mister Johnson, a single shot from Fionn should suffice 's a farewell, eh?"

The Master Gunner smiled. "O' course Mister Pew."

Minutes later a single cannon shot echoed around the harbor; to himself, marking Preston's first command of a ship.

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - Customs House of Aglionby

The sound caused Eric Franklin to turn and walk to the window. It was easy to see the cutter under full sail moving swiftly off before the wind. "The Lucy is away." he said aloud to no one in particular. The others paused for only a moment before returning to the task of setting the place right for Wellings. In truth, they had already finished the preparations twice, but Maeve had changed her mind a third time, anxious to have the room best prepared for what might be a gruesome task or two. Also, they had nothing else to fill the time, for none of them knew how long they would have to wait before the arrival of the man, so they filled the silence with pacing and long looks out the window.

When it was obvious after a time that all was prepared as well as it could be, Pascal, Eric and Alan took to waiting outside under the eaves of the customs house, speaking on every subject imaginable. They even bought a few niceties that passed with different vendors to liven their scant rations ashore.

They ate, talked, waited and watched the sun move revolve painfully slow in an almost flawless sky.

[Pew]

As the Lucy's hull scended and pitched upon each wave finally reaching the open sea, Preston walked about the deck and called the ship's officers into the ward room.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Le Coq

Captain Lasseter had accepted the offered cloth and wiped the blood from his chin, then held another area of the cloth on the wound and kept some pressure on it for a short time as William spoke with the Frenchmen, and finally Mister Wellings. The injured man agreed to be taken to Saint Pierre via carriage, to which Dorian nodded in acknowledgement of his bravery, his thoughts echoing the words William spoke. Dorian made his way out through the front room and to the street where the carriage that had delivered them to Le Coq had remained, yet the driver had turned it around so it was now ready to make the return trip. Captain Lasseter gave a close-lipped smile to the driver and opened the door, estimating the internal space to see how Wellings might be made comfortable. Had he been as tall as Dorian, there wouldn’t be room enough, so it was a good thing that Wellings was of middling height. Dorian trooped back inside and asked the proprietor for some hay and blankets to pad the floor of the carriage to lay the wounded man on for transport. William nodded his approval and Captain Lasseter returned to the carriage and explained the situation as best he could to the driver. Some extra coin had the driver agreeing easily enough. Two groomsmen came out of the stables with loose hay in a tarp and by hand lay it all in, then covered it with the tarp. A maid had stood waiting with blankets folded, and once the groomsmen had finished, made up the interior of the carriage. Dorian thanked them all as they departed and returned to Captain Brand, Wellings, and the others.

“Cap’n… Th’ carriage has been made up as best as can be for our man’s comfort. Just need ta get him there and we’ll be off…”

Edited December 14, 2008 by Dorian Lasseter

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - At Le Coq

William paid the proprietor and his kin handsomely for their care of Wellings, adding enough into the sum to buy rum against the pain he was certain Wellings would feel as they went. He also bought from them another blanket, which they tried to gift to him, but he wouldn't hear of it.

Wellings was carried out, table and all, so that he might not be bent or jostled too much. with him came a parcel made up of his clothes, already laundered. Then came the difficult task of tenderly laying the man within the confines of the carriage. As this was done, William paid the hosts many compliments and thanks. Then he boarded the carriage with Wellings, Lasseter, and Desmarais. Added to this came Monsieur Coulombel, the French marine in the charge of Desmarais and Durand who took a seat next to the driver of the carriage.

Off they went, and Wellings' features tensed at once. It took him a few minutes to get used to the motion of the road and wheels working against each other. "Good people." Wellings remarked, when they were but a quarter mile down the road.

"Aye." Dorian agreed.

"We'll know a drink there some day." William promised, hoping it wouldn't be a toast to the departed.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

Pooka had awakened by the loud report of the great gun, Fionn, who pounded out the salute to the port just above where he had been sleeping. At first Pooka started, nearly falling out of the niche he had curled up in. A moment of listening, and no other loud noises followed, he leisurely stretched and climbed out and down to the deck. Padding along, he smelled scents of fresh dirt, fish, and vegetables come aboard on the soles of the marines shoes. The feline lightly climbed the ladder to the deck and squinted and blinked in the bright sunlight. Young Patrick Godfrey saw the white and black form of the cat and walked over, bending down to pet the cat.

"Been sleepin' b'low Mister Pooka-cat? There's a good boy..."

The feline took in the attention and purred, occasionally swatting at the boy's hand, not yet wanting the affection to stop. After some three minutes, Pooka allowed the boy to get back to his work, stowing down some lines. Yawning wide, he stretched again and strolled aft, dodging around sailors' legs here and there, finding the door to the after-quarters shut he sat and waited until they door would be opened for him.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of The Lucy

Mr. Whittigford had come into the Ward room announcing that several would assemble there shortly, then exiting to collect those he spoke of.

Jenny hastily cleared away any items on the table and lit the second lamp. Setting glasses and a bottle on top of their cabinet should they be expected, she absorbed herself in the tasks at hand and tried to dispell the trepidation of returning to St. Louis. Had she not known the reason, she might have feared greatly that it was to remand her to authorities there. Despite the men aboard, Jenny would have felt more secure were the Captain of the Lucy present as well. However, in his stead she told herself the Ship's Master would look after her as he would any other crew member, affording protection in all circumstances great or small. In the absence of the actual Captain, she assumed the next in command would posess the same absolute authority.

Jenny opened the door a crack to look for the would be visitors and in slipped the black and white cat who seemed to appear as quickly as he was able to vanish. A quick brush against her leg and he marched in with an air of entitlement.. followed by Mr's Flint, Tucker, Brisbane, Wenge, Johnson, and Brocke who took no notice of the creature. As Mr. Pew settled at the head of the table those others remained standing and crowded into the small space. The pooka slipped easily among them settling himself resolutely at Pew's feet and gingerly entertaining his curiosity with cold nose against the Master's leg.

[Dorian Lasseter]

On the road to Saint Pierre, 5 August, 1704

They sat in silence for a short while until Dorian couldn't take the stiffling heat in the carriage. He began to unbutton his weskit and also removed his hat, placing it under his elbow.

"Lordy tis a might humid t'day... lovely tho, much better'n th' storminess o' the past day..."

The others nodded in agreement with some small talk and glances down at Mister Wellings, who still wore a slightly pained look on his face. Captain Lasseter cocked an eyebrow and snifed once.

"A'right, been long enough, a drink fer ye lad..."

He motioned to William for a bottle of the rum he'd purchased and the earthenware cup that was given as well. Wrenching the cork free, he steadied as best as could be had in the moving carriage and poured a dram. Setting the bottle between his legs, the cork was returned to the mouth of the bottle. As William and Dorian sat near Wellings' head, facing each other, both bent low and eased an arm under the man's shoulders and gently sat him up just enough so he might drink.

"Easy now, just a sip as a time, none o' that tosin' it down the hatch wi' a hearty hail-ho."

Wellings smiled and gave a soft laugh before tilting his head toward the profered cup and Dorian held it to his lips, tilting it some so he might drink. Wellings took it all in without trouble and as he was settled again, sighed with relief.

It would be a long trip.

[Pew]

Preston leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. Each officer within the ward room gave a brief report about their current status now at sea. "Very well then," the ship's master replied, "Wot news Mister Flint?" Preston offered a seat in the small room as Bill's height caused him to hunch uncomfortably. Bill declined initially but was finally persuaded to perch himself precariously on a stool usually found under the small desk.

"Much news Mister Pew." Bill began the tale of the last 24 hours ashore.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Ward room of the Lucy, 5 August, 1704

Master Flint laid out the happenings ashore, giving detail when necessary. He spoke of the differences between the garrison Comandant and the Admiralty Judge, the house to house search for den Oven in the downpour, the hospitality of the Admiralty Judge when the weather made said search impossible. As he finished there, Bill took a moment to collect his thought before telling the tale of the messenger coming, of a man being found and it turning out to be Tawny. He told his story and of his duty done so the rest of the world would finally be rid of the black spot on humanity. Many of the men standing wore smiles, though Bill remained stoic. He finished up with the messenger appearing on the wharf as they were headed out to the ships, and that Mister Wellings had been found alive, though rather abused. Captains Brand and Lasseter had set off to bring him back to Saint Pierre, and by their command Master Whitingford and the Lucy were to head to Fort Royal to meet up with the Navarra and inform the captain of their delay, adding that the Watch Dog would be along no later than the next morning.

With his tale done, the Master-at-Arms stood at attention as best he could with his head between the overhead deck beams in the small ward room of the Lucy, waiting for what Master Whitingford might say.

Six Bells of the Afternoon Watch

Larboard Watch on duty

Edited December 19, 2008 by Dorian Lasseter

[Pew]

"Well, much news indeed Mister Flint." Ash refilled the men's cups they had soberly drawn from during Flint's tale. Preston watched her move in and among the tight spaces very much like the pooka.

Christopher Tucker was the first to inquire more about Joshua Wellings condition. To which, Bill Flint said he had no knowledge other than he was beaten badly. Nicholas was next to prod him about the whereabouts of dev Oven since the search was never fully carried out. Again Flint was unable to pronounce any futher information on his whereabouts. Cut-throat huffed and let his feelings be known of the now fruitless trip to St. Pierre. Alder Wenge, ever the voice of reason, explained softly that although one search may have been fruitless, Mister Wellings was found alive.

"And what o' Ajayi?" Preston inquired.

"Sadly, I cannot report any sightings."

"A man o' Ajayi's size kinnnot jus' go missin'" stated the ships Cox'un, "strange things here Mister Pew."

"Ah, none o' that Mister Brisbane. Jus' another blow dealt by den Oven' hand. That 's all."

The men prognosticated on what could have happened to the Dutch Captain. Each tale wilder than the next, yet not so much as to be untrue. As second cup drained, Mister Flint asked to be dismissed as he had had a trying time ashore and was in the need of rest and victuals. Mister Brocke was dismissed as well to assist the master-at-arms in stowing arms from Mister Flint's marines while ashore. Preston asked Ash to see what Charlie still had warm below for those marines. She bent in mid curtsy, but caught herself and replied with a simple, "Aye sir."

Preston asked the other officers to remain as to discuss the evening's meet with the Navarra.

____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: At sea, heading SSW

Speed: 11 knots

Wind: Moderate Northeasterly breeze, small waves 1m high, some whitecaps

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe headed below to where Mr. Marsh upon hearing of the Marines return had restocked his pot and was bringing out bread. Jenny enlisted two of the powder monkeys to help serve hot plates of stewed meat and vegetables. There were also chunks of bread which had gone hard, but could be dunked in the broth. Small beer was passed in mugs and all ate at a makeshift table in the berths. There was little conversation among them save a few speculations about the Navarra.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill collapsed onto a stool in the Armory as the marines filed by and stowed their arms. Nathaniel Brocke made to render some sort of assistance but Flint waved him away. He wished to be alone with his thoughts. He pulled the tomahawk from his belt and stared at it. "This was never to see violence again", he thought. Looking at it and turning it over in his palms his mind drifted back to that day at Shackamaxon. He remembered how Magua and Tammanend, both as old as the hills surrounding the giant oak under which they now stood, dug the small hole between its roots and solemnly lowered the hatchet Bill now held into it. A symbol, that from that day forward the Delaware and the Iroquois would war upon one another never again."The peace is broken", Bill realized. Nathaniel roused back to the present with a proclamation that all arms were accounted for. As Bill stood to leave he knew that somehow he must return home as soon as possible. But wait, had there not been a deed to some land in Manhattan among the Ilex fortune?

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - Somewhere along the road to St. Pierre

The day waned as slowly as it had before, but now for reasons more mortal. They crossed a bridge along the way which spanned a stream almost too small to have bothered with such a structure. But for the bump at either end, it was the smoothest part of their ride.

Wellings proved as strong a passenger and patient as one could hope for. Strangely enough, Wellings seemed better when conversation was put to him at regular intervals, so Dorian asked him many questions about his perils.

The primary question was Wellings' ability to travel with a ball lodged in his armpit, and Wellings admitted that he was unaware of the injury for the duration of his ride, thinking that the pain had come from some brutality of feet or fists after he was knocked down by his attackers. He had been fortunate enough to be clothed in several layers of garments, and these layers, combined with the weight of his arm and the assistance of gravity, had pressed upon the small hole and kept him from bleeding too quickly. It also seemed that the ball had not passed into any organs, for his breathing was easy, apart from the pain at his side. Only when he had ridden the horse far, had he begun to bleed enough to pass out, falling from the saddle.

"Yer a damn lucky fellow, Mister Wellings." William said, more than once.

"No' so lucky, sah." Wellings corrected. "Pai' 'n lead, no' gold."

"Aye." William agreed and smiled to see Wellings smile. "A man capable of wit before the grave might trick the devil." William added, and was uncertain then where he had heard the phrase, attributing it to as many as three different men of his past.

"Dice an' a dance, puts th' devil 'n a trance." Wellings returned and took another proffered sip from Dorian's bottle and closed his eyes. They had far to go yet.

[Jack Roberts]

Cracking an eyelid open, Jack looked around. He wasn't able to sleep well. "Perhaps I might be able rummage up some rum?"

he thought to himself. Rousing himself from his place of rest, he swung his feet down and threw on his shoes.

Peering over the shoes overall appearance he said almost out loud, "Well our fortunes have changed, haven't they. Much better than that foul

pit we escaped from." Donning his cap he rose to the deck. Making his way to the galley.

"Lets see what Lazarus might be able to spare."

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Abel Fenner was as tired as he had ever been, what with the work of the day and the constant attention to the powder in recent poor weather. It was hard work serving under men of the 'Dog, for Petee and Simon were relentless in there duties and expected as much of the men and boys. Still, Abel found it better work than the Maastricht, for here he was Master Fenner, the boy not quite the man, but respected.

He followed in the wake of Simon Dunwalt as the Gunner's Mate made his way down the row of Larboard guns. Simon didn't mind the added shadow, for Abel was a quick study in the art of lead, and despite knowing little or no English, he was intuitive for a lad. It also helped that Simon understood both English and Dutch, so even as they went they practiced upon the languages and the terminology of the guns.

As they went, Abel felt eyes upon him and looked about more than once to find them, but failed. The feeling followed him about the deck and he was full turn of the glass trying to decide if it was his imagination or not when he caught sight of Harry Saltash.

Saltash was coiling line at the foredeck along with several others, but watching Abel with more than a passing interest. Abel did not know what to think of this, for there was little expression in the man's face, and apart from looking in Abel's direction, the man seemed distracted by thoughts elsewhere. Abel tried to not to look in the man's direction more than once and failed each time, so that it seemed that Saltash watched him all the more.

Simon caught this unspoken exchange and furrowed his brow a bit. He had never liked Saltash, though why he did not like him couldn't say, Simon being from the Maastricht and not the Heron. There was something in the half dead eyes of the man and the way he watched people continuously that reminded Simon of a dog not to put much trust in. Saltash seemed a brutish creature. A bull just beyond the fence.

Simon put a hand on Abel's shoulder and turned him about. "Pay that one no mind but mind your pay. " he said in Dutch, borrowing on a phrase his uncle had used oft. Then, for reasons he couldn't be sure of, Simon added. "You kick a dog between the eyes...and a man between the legs, Mister Fenner. Remember it."

Abel found this advice most unsettling, but didn't know why. He simply nodded as they made their rounds.

Just after seven bells of the Afternoon Watch

Larboard Watches on Duty

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy, the Ward Room

A simple company of men was developed to accompany Preston to the Navarra. The discussion of seaman traveled around the table. Preston spent the time in thought. He knew who he wanted. Charlie Goddon, an honest man. A warrior both in words and action. He reminded Preston a bit of Eric. Jospeh Aretinson. Yea, chosen by den Oven himself to serve aboard the Maastricht, he was a brutish man true more to his craft than the folly of politics. Peter Norman, one of Goddon's men from the Bullrush; a brawler through and through. Dreis Weer, one of a few men that he knew containing the wherewithal demonstrating a true soldier-sailor. It was these four men Preston wanted. They could easily handle any situation that may become upended.

Preston wanted to make a statement that while the Captain was ashore, or unavailable, he was clearly in charge of the Lucy and her actions. Damnit, he thought. He hated 'cleaning' up others messes. While circumstances dictated that it was not truly anyone's fault from the Lucy or the Watch Dog for their delay in departure, he was the one to meet with the Navarra's Captain.

Ash filled the tankards once more. "Gentlemen," Preston spoke quielty," do we 'ave anyone aboard t' speak t' th' Spaniards?"

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - Ward Room of the Lucy

"Maurice speaks a little Spanish, sah" Tucker offered, then added. "And Marsh. I don't know who's the better."

"Maurice." Nigel and Alder said together, though Nigel was more assured of it. Even Miss Ashcombe nodded, though no one noted her.

"Their English an' our Spanish should be enough together." Nigel continued. "Will we make anchor again in the harbor then?"

[Pew]

Preston thought for a moment and then nodded. "Aye Nigel, just lee o' th' Navarra. And, Mister Roche?" Nigel and Alder agreed. Many names had gone 'round the table but none were settled upon. It was then that Preston decided upon his crew.

"I'll 'ave Mister Roche, Charlie Goddon, Joseph Aretinson, Peter Norman, and Dreis." Preston said without emotion. Of course the odd mix of names drew odd expressions from the officers.

All of sudden Christopher Tucker let out a belly laugh, "You planning on some fisticuffs there with th' Spaniards Pew?"

"No, but th' presence 'n case won't hurt."

All the men around the table laughed. This eased Preston's cloud that hung around his head. While he was pleased with command of the Lucy, the circumstances tainted her journey.

In agreement, the men were dismissed to go about their duties in preparation to lay anchor. Preston thanked Ash for her attendance to the men and excused himself. He was to see each man individually who were to accompany him to the Navarra.

_____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: At sea, heading SW

Speed: 13 knots

Wind: Moderate Northeasterly breeze, small waves 1m high, some whitecaps