The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704

Eight bells of the Afternoon Watch approached, with Dorian and William still bound for St. Pierre by carriage. The ride had not improved over time and everyone aboard was weary of the poor road.

Back in St. Pierre, another messenger from Durand had arrived at the docks. Unaware that William Brand was ashore, he called for a boat to take him to the Watch Dog, there to give further news of L'Ours investigations. With the rowers paid, the messenger settled into his place at the bow and wiped a tired brow. He had ridden hard to St. Pierre per instruction and was anxious to do good by Durand, a man noted for his generosity when pleased.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe had listened as she moved unobtrusively and mostly unacknowledged, but for a nod as she filled their cups once and once again. She glanced at the expressions of the men as they discussed the return to St. Louis and dealings with the ship Navarra. None had offered an explanation. Even Mr. Pew as he left, spoke only to thank her for her service. As Jenny laid the last of the cups in it's place, she pondered the circumstances ahead and the all too little bit of information. Return to St Louis could mean many things. She had gathered that the Captains would not be immediately present nor the Watch Dog to escort them. However it was said they would join the Lucy no later than the following morn. She knit her brow trying to recall the whole of Mr. Flint's report.

Across the ward room the rays of the late afternoon sun elongated and added a tinge of orange to the surfaces they touched. The sun had been high as they sailed from St. Pierre and Jenny assumed it would be little more than an hour or two before they were once again in port. She crossed to the stern bench and withdrew the sack of belongings she had arrived with. The Ship's Master and his chosen crew would be meeting with enough ability to speak with the Spanish, but she wondered if they would posess too little to overhear anything which might suggest a less than true objective. There was the potential matter of Durand. Miss Ashcombe reached into the bag deeply and withdrew the dagger wrapped in muslin which she had not declared to anyone, even Miss McDonough. She replaced the bag and hurriedly crossed to her cot secreting the weapon in it's wraps beneath the thin mattress ticking and wool blanket. Lacking anything further to do until Mr. Pew returned, Jenny settled in the chair behind the canvas and closed her eyes, hands folded neatly in her lap and tried to work out in her mind the things said moments ago and what the dealing with the Navarra may be.

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - The Watch Dog

Eight bells of the Afternoon Watch. First Dog watch begins

"Oh, le chien de garde!" the messenger called when within shouting distance of the Watch Dog. "Je suis venu de, Monsieur Durand!"

The watches were just changing out as the Frenchman approached, but Henry Church was called forward by the Bosun's Mate just the same. Jack brought the man to the rail to translate for him. Henry, who had been cautious to use French while in prison, was glad to make use of the language for his benefactors.

"Uh...Oh, Monsieur… ?" he began.

"Babineaux. J'ai un message pour capitaine Brand!"

"He is not he...pardonnez...il n'est...uh...pas ici, Monsieur."

Jim Warren had made his way forward by this time and the three men discussed the approaching boat. Jim went to the rail and gestured for the man to come alongside. Here, they held conference, with the man who would not give up any pertinent information. Jim twice assured him that he could speak for and receive information for the Captain, especially on matters touching the ship and crew.

Babineaux considered on the matter.

Starboard Watches on Duty

[Jack Roberts]

"Please tell him the Captain is away on important matters and it will be some time before he arrives." Jack relayed to Henry.

"And try to reassure Babineaux that we act upon the captain Brands behalf and Master Jim currently has charge of the ship."

"Aye, sir." replied Henry as he turned to the men in the boat.

Jack turns to Jim, "So wot you think this is all about?"

Edited January 8, 2009 by Jack Roberts

[William Brand]

"Never speculate in the face of messengers, Mister Roberts." he said, trying to follow the conversation between Church and Babineaux. He shook his head several times at the man's stubborn insistence to speak with William above all others. "Will you go with men of the 'Dog to seek out Captain Brand?" he asked, suddenly interrupting Henry as he translated. Henry relayed the question, but while the man hesitated, Jim added. "The Captain is gone to fetch back a wounded man of our crew."

Henry and the man went back and forth a minute before Henry turned again. "He'll go in the direction of the Captain if guided."

"Good. Fine." Jim turned to Jack. "Fancy a trip ashore, Mister Roberts? The 'Dog is at rest, so I can spare you and one other."

[Jack Roberts]

"Right then seems we have some hunting to do. I believe the Lieutenant speaks french."

Roberts replied. Strolling atharwtships Roberts to with Jean, who is in the midst of getting weapons ready for the shore party.

"Monsieur, I believe you will be needing this." as he hands Jack a pistol from one of the marines from below deck.

"I trust you know its use?"

"That I do, Monsieur Jean. My you do keep the flints sharp don't you." replied Jack.

"Aye Jack. Now who of the marines will be joining you." he prodded as was handed few cartridge boxes and muskets.

"Will you Jean? A man of your nationality and linguistic ability would be of most use to us."

"Aye then, I would love too." replied Jean, with just a hint of sarcasm towards the end.

"Roght then." grabbing a blade from the marine ascending from below.

Making there way towards the larboard side, were Jim was making ready to for the descent to the boat.

"Thank you Jim." said Roberts as he and Jean finished placing the accouterments.

Edited January 8, 2009 by Jack Roberts

[Dorian Lasseter]

5 August, 1704 - The Lucy

Mister Tucker had taken over the helm from Brisbane at the change of the watch. Nigel had made his way below and to his quarters where he proceeded to check on his pet rats. Making sure the door to his space was firmly shut, Nigel opened the box that were home to Ash and Coal.

“How are we doin’ lads? He-heee… Want out do ya? Well, on’y fer a short bit…”

He took the two rodents out and set them on top of his sea chest, letting them nose about in the near dark space. Their ‘home’ needed to be cleaned out some, and this left Nigel in a bit of a dilemma. He needed to take the box topside to dump out the straw and refuse in the bottom, but he had nowhere to put his pets while he was doing so. He could put them in his sea chest, but he’d rather not have them chew holes in his clothes or gnaw on other items stored within. However, his choices were few and his only recourse was to empty out the chest to prevent the rats from causing harm to his worldly possessions. Nigel picked up Ash and Coal, deposited them back in their home and set it off to the side while he opened his sea chest and took out every last thing he had collected while living before the mast. All this was deposited on the sea chest of his mate, Logan Christie. Nigel made sure he hadn’t missed anything before depositing the duo into his now empty chest. He closed the lid gently so as to leave a slight gap.

“Don’t ye worry now, I’ll be right back… mebbee wi’ somethin’ good ta nibble fer ye.”

With a glance over his shoulder, he picked up the box and carried it topside and dumped the old straw and such over the side, shaking it to make sure he got it all out.. He gave nods and greetings to some of the crew nearby before heading to the hold to procure some straw from the chickens, along with some loose feathers. Next he stopped at the galley and found most of the men of the Larboard Watch gathered, waiting for the meal to be ready. Knowng he wasn’t about to be able to procure a full plate at that time, he settled for stealing a crust of bread from the deck where it had been dropped and headed back to his quarters to feed his pets and put them back in their freshened home.

First bell of the First Dog Watch

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston walked among those on deck trying to find the men he selected for their trip to the Navarra. The first bell of the first dog watch had just rung, and instinctively Preston looked to the west and watched the sun rapidly heading for the horizon. Christopher Tucker had his men aloft adjusting sail as the tiller pulled to turn east-south-east. Preston smiled and headed below.

[Jack Roberts]

It had been some time since Jack felt this free. Now with some position underneath belt, he assured himself to a fine job. Perhaps even succeed better than last time. Listening to the rhythm of the oars dipping in the water, Jack drifted off into his thoughts.

Deftly making his way below, the candle lamps created a soft warm glow in the galley. The lamps shadow dancing accross the wooden beams. The whispers which had been audible speech lowered there drone as he made Jack made his way to kettle. Ignoring it he found a plate and added some of the victuals that where laid there. The storm repairs had left most the men exhausted including himself. He had been hard on more than a few of them. Trying to whip this ragtag crew of wanna be sailors had proven more difficult than expected. Compounded by the last weeks storm and the recent makeshift repairs. Jack looked up from his plate and observed the crew around.

"Funny," he thought to himself, "Jonathan isn't here."

The boatswain mate was not present, he had gone to the head for some relief before coming below for supper.

"Monsieur?!"

"We're here." Jean said squeezing Jack's shoulder.

Shaking the memory away he replied,

"Aye let us find our good Capt'n eh?"

Edited January 13, 2009 by Jack Roberts

[William Brand]

The docks were crowded at that hour and at first they could not find enough horses to bear them all Northward. When all of their French was exhausted, Jack produced the only other language at his disposal. Coin.

Gold, like French, was a language unto itself and it excited more assistance than they had found since landing. They were pressed upon by several men eager to rent or sell animals of varying quality. Jean's patience was tested and he sorted out the greedy from the fair at once. He sent one man away with his dignity bruised by strong words, for the man had attempted to sell a horse not fit for meat and Jean said the same of the seller.

Jack had not yet counted out all the money and Jean and their guide were already on the move, hooves flying.

[Jack Roberts]

Shouldering his haversack, Jack mounted the horse and dug his heels into the horse's side. The horse gave a small rear and was off.

Almost completely caught up to Jean and the frenchie, Jack shouted,

"Jean, take the that north inland road!"

Jean turned his head and nodded in confirmation. Reaching out to Babineaux he relayed the message.

Jack trying to push the horse harder to catch up and also trying to hold on and steady himself. It had been

some time since he had handled one.

"Hopefully this trip would be worth it." he thought to himself. Most thankful for the coin purse

Jim had given just before they left. Onward they pushed hoping to cross paths of the good Capt'n.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston ducked while on the last step and rested his hand on one of the heavy timbers spanning the ship. He inhaled deeply. The ships's master held tight as several deep coughs racked his body. He took his hand and covered his mouth as best he could. The heavy taste of iron was fresh in his mouth and reminded him he was was not completely well. The slight sting of sweat beaded upon his brow and he wiped it off quickly using his bare forearm. He moved quickly to the galley in search of a stiff tot to soothe his throat. Finding some of those on larboard watch just finishing small plates of victuals left over from the morning, Preston asked Charlie and Andries for a word. He briefly discussed the evening's plan and asked them to meet in the ward room by two bells of the second dog watch. They both nodded. Preston added that whatever finery they could produce to wear to the Navarra may ease the ilk of her Captain. Both men agreed again and smiled.

The ships' master continued about below deck, among those crew in repose or managing their daily duty in his search for Peter, Joseph and Maurice.

_____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: At sea, heading ESE

Speed: slowing, 9 knots

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

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - The inland road from St. Pierre

Second bell of the First Dog Watch had come and gone, but whether or not any church bells rang the half or quarter hours, such a sound was lost far behind them and under the hoof beats of their horses. They flew along the road at speed, sending up mud and spray as they did, til the man at the back would have been wet through, if not for his coat.

For Jack, the ride was hard. Even if he had not recently quit the prison, the ride would have been uncomfortable, for he had not ridden in a very long time. His joints, muscles and all his framework, still waking from the dead life of prison and tested through work aboard the 'Dog, now reminded him that he was a long way yet from returning to that strong and able man he had been before his capture. Only time would make him so, and this journey was a sore reminder.

Jack chanced to turn his head Westward as he stood a little in the saddle. They had reached a point in the road where he could not make out the sea for the encroaching jungle. The sky was of little use in this regard, for the road seemed dark in the shadows, but he was certain that night would overwhelm them soon.

All the business of Ajayi would be settled in darkness it seemed.

- - -

Not far ahead of them and Southward bound came the carriage bearing the weary and the wounded. Dorian had managed a song or two, but these were born of boredom more than spirit. He sand them more to himself and sometimes with his face part way out the window as he watched the passing landscape.

William fell asleep twice, but for no more than three minutes together. He was not trying to rest anymore than he was trying not to, but he allowed it as it came in brief, truncated moments.

The rest of the party were asleep in more absolutely or wide awake.

- - -

As the hour waned, the two parties drew closer still.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As they bumped along the road, Captain Lasseter continued to hum to himself, more to keep awake than to entertain the others who had succumbed to their weariness. Young Wellings had begun to snore softly, causing Dorian to smile slightly. The rum had soothed the man enough to allow fitful sleep, and his snores allowed the Captain to hear how he was faring. Dorian turned his thoughts inward, wondering how the Lucy under the command of Preston was doing, how the delivery of the message might be going and hoping the captain of the Navarra wasn’t a nervous sort. He had watched Captain Brand nod off and awake several times now, as he was just doing now. His chin met with his chest and a small jerk of his head told that he was aware he had fallen asleep, then his head slowly came up level. Dorian almost laughed at the sight, had he not been as exhausted. Instead he twisted the cork from one of the bottles and carefully poured a dram into the cup. He wet his whistle, then touched William on the leg with the cup, offering it to him.

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - The inland road from St. Pierre

William smiled, bemused by his own fatigue and made a point of lolling his head to one side dramatically, before taking the cup. He sipped only a little of the stuff and made a face. "I'm ravenous."

Dorian nodded and made mention of several Irish dishes he would gladly sample by the plateful. William made a face at this, eyes closed. Then the two of them launched upon a lengthy journey of comparisons between the fares at every roadside tavern and country pub they could remember. They tortured themselves in this fashion, sometimes smiling, sometimes groaning for want of shepherd pies, spoonbreads, puddings and meringues.

"We shall eat the horses when they drop." William announced, after a pause came in the discussion.

"Aye." Dorian agreed. "Quiche cheval..."

William chuckled. "Or perhaps the coachman."

"Too course." Dorian said, shaking his head.

The sound of horses on the road ahead woke them from their revelries.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston found Maurice oiling the muskets with Nathaniel in the armoury. The ship's master discussed his plan for the early evening and told Maurice he had the 'privilege' of being their Spanish aide-de-camp for the evening. Maurice smiled and shook his head slowly and asked who else was to join them on the Navarra. Preston smiled and told him it was a well thickened group that he had chosen. Maurice shot an eyebrow up at the odd term Preston used to describe the men.

He turned abruptly when he overheard Joseph just a few steps away relating to the powder monkeys one of the many stories of his battles upon the gun deck. Under a shaded lantern, they chipped the slight rust that had begun to form on the cannon shot in the heavy humidity below deck. Joseph nodded when Preston discussed the evening's events as he had previously to the others. The gunner's mate repeated the time he was to meet in the Ward Room as Preston finished the details.

Peter Norman was easily found. Following the swearing and the yelling, Preston saw Charlie Marsh and Peter arguing over the placement of several hogsheads. Peter was stripped to the waist and sweating profusely while Charlie merely had only his shirtsleeves rolled to the the forearm. The ship's master interceded and pulled Peter away. Charlie muttered something about Peter's upbringing which to Charlie's luck, Peter had not heard. Preston told the same plan to Peter as he had to those members previously. He excused Peter from Charlie's wrath and told him to get cleaned up.

Ship's Master Whitingford felt the ship change direction again. With that, the Lucy slowed. Preston hurried back to the deck to see the harbor come into view. He scanned the ships at rest for the Navarra but could not see her.

_____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: At sea, heading E

Speed: slowing, 7 knots

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

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - The inland road from St. Pierre

They had no reason to suspect trouble upon the road, but William and Dorian checked their pistols and muskets all the same. Then they put their heads out at the carriage windows to see three riders closing. Jean was already calling across the last few hundred yards, and while they caught but half of the words he shouted, they knew his voice at once.

"What now?" William wondered aloud as the carriage slowed. Dorian swung the door wide and William stepped down before they had come to a complete stop. "Gentlemen."

"Sah, this messenger..." Jack began, but Monsieur Babineaux cut him off as he was dismounting.

"Capitaine Brand?"

"Oui." William returned, his tone neutral.

"Un message de mon maître, Monsieur Durand!" Babineaux exclaimed, thrusting the letter at William.

William took the note, which was wrapped in heavy paper, but not sealed. He unfolded it and turned himself toward better light. As he read, Jean and Jack dropped from their saddles, though Jack did so with a greater effort and a groan escaped him as some three dozen parts of himself complained.

William's face jerked up from the letter. He looked right at Dorian. "Durand believes that Ajayi is at the plantation of a Monsieur Rousseau. This man is sent to bear us hence."

"A plantation." Dorian's face soured, for there was meaning in this. He cursed den Oven, and not for the first time that day.

William made a quick assessment of the Lieutenant and Bosun's Mate. He noted that Jack looked worse for wear and that the condition of the horses was not much better, a thing which could not be helped. "Mister Roberts, you and Jean shall take the carriage and bear Wellings to Miss O'Treasaigh. Use what care you deem fit, for he is strong enough I think to make the journey with care.

"Aye, sah." They said together, and Jack smiled to hear of Wellings. Jean passed the reigns of his horse to William.

"Dorian." William said as he pulled himself into the saddle, accomplishing this without much grace. Dorian shouldered his musket and followed suit. "Gentlemen." William said again, leaving the men of the 'Dog as he had greeted them. Then he gave a nod to Monsieur Babineaux to lead the way.

They went with speed and armed against the uncertain night.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Off they two captain’s rode, trading one bone-jarring ride for another. Dorian’s face set with a grim look, occasionally gritting his teeth as his musket or cutlass slapped against him. Smashing his hat tighter on his head, all Dorian could do was follow the messenger and hope the beast between his legs did not falter and send him sprawling. Dorian could feel the horse breathing hard and hoped the plantation was close, else they would have to stop and rest the animals, or press on and risk riding them to death. With that thought in his head, Captain Lasseter raised the question to the man they followed.

“Monsieur, à quelle distance à la plantation?”

Dorian hoped the man had heard him, but when he did not slow his horse or respond, the Captain yelled it louder.

“Monsieur, à quelle distance à la plantation!?”

Babineaux turned towards Dorian and reigned in his horse, bringing them even.

“Cela prendra l'heure suivante pour atteindre la plantation.”

Dorian slumped a little.

“An hour or more?! Good… Cap’n We’ll need ta rest these horses, I’m no Ferrier, but they won’t make it an hours’ hard ride.”

Babineaux wrinkled his brow, not understanding what was said, Captain Lasseter guessed this and simply stated that the horses will need rest.

“Les chav… ah… chevaux, devront se reposer.”

The Frenchman shrugged and responded with one word and looked to Captain Brand.

“Probablement…”

[William Brand]

August 5, 1704 - On the inland road

William reigned his horse in a bit, so that Babineaux was forced to slow his own until they were almost abreast of one another. William pressed him with several questions until he was satisfied to the distance and location of the plantation in relation to St Pierre, which lay ahead of them to the South and West. Monsieur Babineaux explained that they would pass along the Easternmost outskirts of St. Pierre before turning Southeast along one of many roads leading to the Cul du Sac Royal. On this road they would come to the plantation of Monsieur Rousseau.

Dorian took this opportunity to ask about the owner of the plantation and Babineaux gave a shrug, stating that rumors aside, he had no experience with the man. When he added nothing else, Dorian asked, "Et… les rumeurs?"

Babineaux shrugged again. "He is...riche. Puissaaant...Powerful. Il est… ce que vous pourriez attendre." It was not an explanation at all.

"We'll burden the horses as far as we might. If we cannot find fresh mounts before the edge of St. Pierre, we shall rest these there. Agreed?" William did not ask Babineaux.

[Dorian Lasseter]

“Aye.”

Dorian agreed and prompted his mount some, but not to the speed they were earlier riding at. Babineaux took up the lead once more as they rode, being a better horseman than the two Captains, he outpaced them easily. Captain Lasseter let his horse slow a bit more as the pace caused his musket stock to bounce off his thigh painfully. He removed the strap from his shoulder and lay the firelock across the front of his thighs, having to keep hold of it in this position, but it allowed him to maintain the gallop and stay close enough to William. He hoped their stay at the plantation of Monsieur Rousseau would be brief, and would end with them leaving with Ajayi in tow. This day had brought on so many confusing turns, and all he wanted to do was to be standing on the deck of the Lucy as she plied the ocean.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy, approaching the Cul de Sac Royal

"Better luck t' see a Cockatrice 'n this harbor," Preston muttered to no one in particular. The helmsman pulled the tiller to larboard so that the Ships' Master could survey the harbor with the rapidly waning light behind him. Preston and the officers had gauged their time at sea wisely and he hoped to be at rest by nightfall. He called for Patrick to fetch him a shaded lantern and the chart that Captain Lasseter had left him. Preston looked to the south and could just make out the mountains against the purple backdrop of the sky. Several stars had begun to peek out from behind their dark plane.

Patrick hurried back and held the lantern at his arm's length just reaching Preston's shoulders. The ship's master followed the shoreline peering at the chart and then the coast, and back again. He returned to the larboard side of the vessel and furrowed his brow in frustration. Jerrod called down to Preston and pointed NNW. What looked to be the Navarra was spotted by the lookout sitting at rest some several cable lengths fine on the bow of the Lucy.

The Lucy was now in the wind with her sails shivering. Nigel had taken the tiller and began the calls to ready to drop anchor. Chris Tucker stood amidships and matched Nigel's calls as they both worked in tandem as they had done times before on the Watch Dog. "Ready t' drop," called Lucky Tuck to Nigel, who in turn repeated the order to Preston. Preston Whitingford nodded and simply stated "best bower away." Nigel repeated the order to Mister Tucker then calling to his men to release the cable. A heavy splash followed by Lucky Tuck's remaining orders eased the Lucy to rest. Nigel called to his men to stow the sails and ready the longboat to be dispatched. The men Preston had previously spoken with arrived on deck just as the two bells of the second dog watch tolled.

_____________________________________

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: Bow facing NW

Speed: At rest

Wind: Calm, from the NW

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of The Lucy at Anchor

Cul De Sac Royal

The heeling of the ship had only stirred Miss Ashcombe as she slept fitfully in the chair within her small canvas portion of the ward room. The calls from above, punctuated with the splash of the Lucy's anchor and subsequent jar of the ship against something solid brought Jenny fully awake.

A tingle of anxiety crept among her nerves as she exited the canvas to peer into the dim light through the Lucy's stern windows. Despite the waning glow of a day nearly past, the shoreline and it's distant shapes was unmistakable. Jenny breathed out slowly and pressed her face closer. The view from this side of the Cul De Sac Royal had become a memory quickly burned into her conciousness as she had slipped the possible bonds of he former life and now all too soon had been returned. She glanced over her shoulder at the ward room door but none came and no voice outside indicated anyone's approach. Jenny sat on the stern bench and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. How long had she slept? and where was Mr. Pew? Would they wait here at anchor the night or would some messenger or visitor be shortly entering with the Ship's Master? Jenny had no choice but to sit quietly and ponder what the next few minutes or hours would bring. She kept her back to the cove shrouded in twillight and instead fixed her gaze upon the table's lamp and turned her thoughts inward.

[Alder]

The last vestiges of daylight tapped the glinting star of the Lucy’s figurehead in the rays of a setting sun. Contemplating the work that lay ahead for both those to set out for the Navarra and those to remain, Alder slid his hand along the rail only to recoil upon discovering jagged edge in need of tending. His face curled with a capricious smirk; appreciating how the deliberate nip of his palm articulated the Lucy’s demand for his attentions. Alder tenderly patted her injury, “Soon enough my sweet gyrl, soon enough” he promised silently, looking deep into her sails that replied in a tranquil sway of canvas. The undulation directed seductive scents of spice and smoke from the port to his face, teasing all his senses. Alder gazed toward civilization and the scattering of lanterns that grew brighter even as the earth’s own waned. As the ship’s bell pealed, Mister Wenge offered no more measure to such beguilements; plans must be made to return to her maintenance and inventory necessary supplies while the anchor held them.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Deck of the Lucy

Liam Rowan walked in a random path aft from the forward hatch, avoiding the others aboard in their work now that the anchor was on the floor of the bay. He and the other powder monkeys had been in the cable tier to make sure the hawser didn’t kink and hold up the dropping of the anchor. The movement of the largest of cables had stirred up dust and a foul odor and he was glad to be away from it now. He watched the crew flaking out the lines and stowing down the sails. One man seemed out of place standing near the rail, looking toward the towns on shore. Stepping closer Liam recognized Mister Wenge and noticed he rubbed his palm.

“Mister Wenge? Is yer hand a-right, sah?”

[Alder]

Alder turned, his view angled down toward the source of this faint, though sincere voice of concern.

“Aye, Lad, aye” the carpenter answered now selfconscious of the attention to his offended palm.

Alder recalled the lad, but held no bond save knowing of him as a lingering puzzlement; a view shared by the crew of the Heron. You see, the lad seemed intuitive in a queer sort of way; a gift that made some uncomfortable. There was with him a knowing beyond his years, hell, beyond the years of his seniors in some cases. Liam had a knack of being aware of things unspoken; so it was no surprise he read Alders body language and came to inquire.

The carpenter smiled silently at the boy awaiting more; for with this one there always was more. A joke, a wry and clever remark would surely follow. Self preservation was not lost on Liam. He understood his creativity and insight set him apart. He was a keen study of persons and personalities; an observer, not an anomaly.

Still, since the then Heron's carpenter reserved his time for none, the lad was no exception, needed or no. This new crew had changed the craftsman, transformed the distant soul to one who worked well with others; finding both utility and companionship in their presence. Nevertheless, Alder required more fodder to foster kinship.