The Watch Dog

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny had remained standing at the rail not in particular to wait for the return of the Captain and his men, as she did not know how long such a meeting would take. There was also the possibility of the longboat returning to the Watch Dog before it delivered home the Lucy's occupants.

But the sea was calm.. and the light breeze as the wind's direction changed with the departure of night was pleasant. She felt the wood of the rail warming from the now abundant sunshine and it was interesting to watch all the daily happenings around them in the Cul de Sac.

Jenny allowed herself the first few real moments of calm since leaving the plantation and simply enjoyed the relaltive feel of safety about her. There were so many men and Mr's Pew and Tucker. The Lucy was armed and the Watch Dog as well was nearby. With Both Captain's not far off she could not imagine feeling less within a realive fortress of men to whose company she now belonged. A priveledge Miss Ashcombe had only begun to understand during her few days amongst them. She'd even begun to imagine that she might be as confident and able as those women of the Watch Dog she had seen. She thought of Murin and the Steward to Captain Brand.

The peaceful feeling was shattered almost instantaneously by the realization of Durand from across the water. He stood out like an aparition made more horrible as the glass of his eye in the shadow of his hat caused it to appear dark, while the smile he wore was nothing less than wicked. Jenny drew in her breath visibly in spite of her fear of being recognized. Already mentaly admonishing herself for being the fool and appearing in plain sight so close to land and other local vessels. She'd been too confident. She fought her instinct to run and hide in the darkness of the ward room and instead held fast to the rail. She dared not look at L'ours at first but then defiantly met his stare.

She was steward to Captain Lasseter of the Lucy now. She'd quit the Island of Martinique to leave behind those of Durand's ilk and their opressive ways. Jenny had more coin than she could ever imagine despite it being held in secret. To have this freedom threatened now called the anger to rise in her, in the same manner which used to cause her to stand up to Garaud despite knowing it would end with a painful blow or some form of restriction on her too independant ways. An observation St. James would so disdainfully put to her at some later point when things had returned to normal in the household or Garaud had left on one of his many extended trips.

She did not make an upleasant face, but met Monsieur Durand's gaze fully with resolve. Then she simply turned and walked slowly on trembling legs to where one of the powder monkeys sat working. He stood immediately and she asked him to show her to the galley even though she knew where it was. Jenny knew it would take her past Mr. Tucker once again and then below decks. The lad did not question her odd request, but simply wiped his face on his sleeve and walked beside her knuckling his brow to those above him as they passed.

[William Brand]

It was impossible to say how it was that Durand's smile broadened, but it did. Then he removed his hat as easily as a courtier, owing to a life past in places far removed. Then he was bowing. It was not a deep bow, nor was it grand. It was the subtle bow one might greet another with at a great distance. A private gesture on a public stage. So subtle was it that it came across as a nod of the head, but with his entire frame. Slow. Deliberate.

Then he donned his hat again, his smile faded to something else too hard to read across the water.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the two Captains settled in the sternsheets they were silent until the men at the sweeps had them a cables length away.

"That went quite well... Lets hope some of our crews speak Spanish, or some o' those men speak French er' English, otherwise this'll be quite the adventure..."

William was nodding at first, then a slight look of concern passed across his face.

"Agreed, another barrier of language would not do well, however I think we'll make due no matter the situation. Trinadad awaits us and I wish to put this island to my rudder as soon as possible."

Dorian let out an exasperating sigh and agreed before turning to the figures in his ledger. By the time they had come alongside the Lucy they had come up with the maximum number of 'passengers' each of thier ships they could reasonably accomodate and hoped the number that would be given a berth was less than half, for the sake of comfort. As Dorian made the deck he turned and wished Captain Brand a good day.

"Enjoy th' last of th' idleness William, I plan to... for an hour at the least I would think. Til we set sail, good day William..."

He watched as the boat pulled towards the Watch Dog for half the trip and tuned his eyes back to the Navarra. He took in her lines and rig, again noting how low she sat in the water. Whatever she carried it was quite a weight. He furrowed his brow for a moment then shook the thoughts out of his head.

"Nay, none o' ma'business... just theirs..."

He smiled and tilted his face to the sun and took a deep breath before heading aft and to his sanctuary. He passed by the Boatswain as he went and casually gave an order.

"Pass word fer Master Whittin'ferd... We're to take on some O them Spanish fer th' passage ta Trinidad and I want no difficulties..."

"Spanish? Oh, Aye-Aye Sah!"

The Captain continued into the wardroom, lay the ledger and accouterments on the table along with his hat and found himself on the larboard side of the sternbench, his back against the bulkhead. He propped open the larboard window and enjoyed the light breeze.

Edited April 12, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[Pew]

Preston was roused from his sleep with little regard for care or pleasantries.

"Mister Pew," a rough hand shook Preston awake, "Mister Pew!"

"Lay abaft! I'm awake damn you," Preston grumbled, "Wot is 't?"

"Captain Lasseter called fer you above sah."

"Very well." Preston rubbed his eyes and climbed out of the hammock. He waited a moment to regain his senses and for the cough to diminsh.

[Dorian Lasseter]

At first ‘Lucky Tuck’ was going to wait on Master Whittingford, but his gruff nature made him think twice. Instead he knuckled his brow and returned to the safety of his post. Once back on deck he walked a couple paces away from the hatch before stopping. He was a bit concerned for the Ships Master, all that coughing, and at one point he thought he saw some blood on the man’s lips. He turned to go back and check on him but stopped short at the hatch. The coughing was no longer heard from below. The Ship’s Master was a tough man… Mister Tucker liked him for it, even if it frightened him at times. Preston was the kind of man you’d want to have on your side in a fight, one of those men who you stayed a pace behind just so you didn’t get in his way. In many ways both he and the captain were kindred in that way. As Mister Tucker mused on this, Mister Aretineson walked up to him and saluted, giving him an odd look.

“Mister Tucker… All’s well I take it?”

“Aye…. Aye Mister Aretineson… I was just, Mister Whittingford… I’s waitin’ on th’ Ship’s Master ta come topside.”

Tucker put on a calm expression and Mister Aretineson gave him a knowing look, but did no more than knuckle his brow.

“Aye Sir… Great guns are in fine trim, incase we need ‘em…”

With that he slowly walked across the deck and left Mister Tucker to his thoughts.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Below Decks The Lucy

Miss Ashcombe made her way back to the ward room below decks. Having only passed that way a few times, She entered the solitary space of the hold which smelled of mustiness, spice and wood smoke that drifted aft somewhere from the galley. Careful and wary of the rats she had heard about in ship's stores, Miss Ashcombe wended between sacks, barrels and crates bearing food, candles and sundry for the journey. At the back of the hold she climbed the small stairs and stepped to the left to enter the ward room. There she found the Captain already at home in his quarters. He enquired on Mr. Whittingford, but she had not seen him and said so. He had no further requests and she put away the things which he had brougt back with him. Replacing the inkpot and ledger on the desk and his hat to it's hook. As she did so she bit her lip and considered asking after Mr. Durand but kept her silence settling instead for straightening up whatever needed tending.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between six and seven bells of the Morning Watch

William was all business the moment his feet touched the weatherdecks. Jim came up alongside him and met his quick strides to the Ward Room. William questioned him as they went. "Besides Luigi and Cobus, which among the throng have a tongue for Spanish?"

"Tribbiani speaks some Spanish I think..." Jim began, pausing in thought if not in stride. They were half way down the passageway before he spoke again. "...and Crips, if memory serves."

"Well?" William pressed as they gained the Ward Room and closed the door.

"No." Jim admitted. "I don't think so. Not well...and perhaps only as much or less than Tribbiani. There's the German."

"Thorvald." William mused. "Make inquiries on the matter."

"Aye, Sah."

"We'll be taking some Spanish from Le Vedette and we'll..." William trailed off. Jim, who was surprised by the news watched William's brow furrow. "Why are we taking Spanish from Le Vedette...?" William asked, more to the room than Jim.

"I'm sure I don't know." Jim said after a moment.

"Why are we taking Spanish from Le Vedette?" William asked again, but the question seemed addressed to himself now. He shook his head, suddenly uncertain. He noted Jim waiting in the wake of the truncated conversation. "Sorry, Mister Warren. I suddenly can't be sure if we're taking on Frenchmen or Spaniards, but we will be taking on men before the end of the hour."

"I think we have enough of each tongue to give orders." Jim replied confidently, than asked. "Is there no room for them among there own?"

William shook his head, unable to answer and Jim accepted the silence. Then William went out of the Ward Room all at once with Jim following again. The two reached the weatherdecks and William began shouting orders for all the boats to be put out. Supplies and men were in need of transport and the hour would be gone too soon.

[Silkie McDonough]

Below Decks The Lucy

Had he not been recently released from the dark of a prison cell but two days ago Benjamin Quigley would have been unable to relax in his hammock enjoying the light of day as it filtered in through the open hatch. Luck had been with him when he came below to rest and his hammock hung near the hatch. He was not sleeping, as perhaps he should be. He lay there on his back, his hands tucked behind his head, his eyes closed, enjoying the fresh air and sunlight. He knew that they would soon set sail, this time to places beyond this French island, beyond the horizon. Mister Quigley was not a dreamer, he did not dream of places far away and thus far he had not been disappointed in what had greeted him beyond the horizon. Nor did he aspire to monetary rewards beyond his own practicality; however, tales of what fortune had befallen the crew of the Watch Dog before their arrival at this port gave him additional hope. If luck, or skill, were with him he would have some coin by the next port and might be afforded the opportunity to indulge himself there.

Edited April 12, 2009 by Silkie McDonough

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy, the Wardroom

The ship's master rapt gently on the door before he made entrance to the Ward Room. He never waited for permission to enter, a fleeting thought as he stepped into the small cabin.

"Spaniard's eh Dorian?" Preston inquired as he stood with his arms crossed.

[Black Syren]

The sound of feet moving and male voices speaking woke her and she slowly sat up pushing her braid from her face and back across her shoulder. Looking to Luigi who still slept in the chair she glanced at the other two men, both deeply asleep in part to the laudnam. With a yawn she stretched then froze as she heard her name mentioned, male voices muffled she could not make out who the speakers were. Perhaps it was Ciaran checking up on her? Rising from the narrow bed she moved to the water pitcher and washed her hands and face, dried them with the small linen cloth and made short work of rebraiding her hair. Not seeing Briar or Maeve she moved to the passageway door.

Whoever had been speaking had long since gone and she debated moving to the weatherdecks to see what was happening. She also was eager to resume her duties. If they were to leave shortly she would be needed at her post. Dragging her lower lip between her teeth she worried it as she debated going out for she had no wish to get into trouble. Too she needed to find Argus. Was the pup still injured? Had he died? Why had he not barked or come looking for her? Worry for the pup had her opening the door and quickly she slipped out and moved down the passage towards the Weatherdecks.

The early morning air was warm and she tilted her face to the sun before releasing her lower lip then she inhaled deeply and feeling more awake moved across the deck. Seeing Captain Brand speaking with Jim she was about to move back within the shadows when she froze as Captain Brand noticed her. Tyring to not squirm nor fidget beneath such weighty stares she automatically began nibbling on her lower lip, a nervous gesture. "I was seeking Argus." She stated quietly.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy

Captain Lasseter had turned to face whomever knocked on his door and before he could answer, or Miss Ashcombe could get to the door, Master Pew had entered.

“Aye Preston… That’s th’ word from Capitan Avendano… Haven’t got a figure on how many as of yet, but they’ll be spread betwixt us an’ th’ Watch Dog…”

Preston did no more than raise an eyebrow and run his tongue across his teeth before stepping deeper into the room and putting his hands on a chair back.

“Miss Ashcombe, the ledger I had earlier?”

Jenny nodded and retrieved the tome from where she had placed it, handing it to Preston. He nodded his thanks and opened it to the last used page and looked to Dorian.

“There you see what we’ve agreed upon… extra stores and a further price for their passage. Should prove interesting to say the least…”

Preston gave a sniff as he looked over the ledger and a corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile. Dorian did no more than lean his head back against the bulkhead and turn his face to the stern windows.

[William Brand]

"I was seeking Argus." She stated quietly.

August 6, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

William was so preoccupied with the business of the 'now' that he couldn't recall any man aboard the frigate by that name, which gave him pause. Then he gave a comprehending 'Ahhhh' after a moment and turned to Jim, who pointed to the sheltered area forward, beneath the Forecastle.

"He's been in the care of the lads." Jim explained before going back to the tasks at hand.

Treasure made her way forward where she found the dog more or less in the company of Owen Monahan, Reind Halster and William Dash. The older men were busy at work in the maintenance of Coup de Grace, but William seemed otherwise unemployed, but for sitting with Argus. The dog was on his side in a bed made of old sailcloth and lines. He did not stir on her approach, choosing instead to whine a little in his state, though his tail wagged in a pathetic, heartbreaking greeting.

"Hey, boy." she said quietly, giving him her hand.

"Ye'll find 'im changed." Owen said, his face neutral. There was damage to the dog's face and ear that Treasure couldn't remember. It looked mean and more recent than the sting, but she was fairly certain Owen had meant Argus' demeanor. The puppy was now more the dog, old enough or not.

"He did that to 'imself..." William began, not knowing how to address a woman sailor aboard ship. Treasure examined the deep scratches.

"We keep a lad 'ere to watch the pup." Owen explained. "Keep 'im from 'arming 'iself."

Starboard Watches on Duty

[Black Syren]

She frowned studying the deep scratches and wondered how he had come about them. She sent a questioning look to William before looking to Owen as he continued to speak. “I do not understand..From harming himself? Because he scratches at the stings?” she asked? She quickly knelt and uncaring of who watched put Argus’s head carefully into her lap and crooned softly to him.

Again his tail wagged halfheartedly and she felt tears come to her eyes but kept her head lowered so none would see. Burying her fingers into his soft fur she looked up to Owen and William. “Thank you..All of you for caring for him.” Owen spying the tears she had thought hidden gave a gruff grunt and a rough nod of his head and turned away busying himself. Releasing a heavy sigh she slowly stroked him then laid his head back down and closed his eyes dozing again.

Rising she swallowed hard and turning in the direction of Captain Brand and Jim she waited till she had their attention yet again. “Sorry to disturb you sir, but I wish to resume my duties. If we are to leave shortly you will need me back in my position.” She hid her fisted hands at her sides and nervously waited for permission.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

"The good doctor will have a say in that before I'm satisfied of your fitness." William returned, then nodded toward the galley. "Light duty for the time being. See yourself to the galley. O'Flaherty will have her hands full with more mouths to feed."

William was suddenly distracted by the clumsy handling of the jollywatt and turned away before she could reply. "Steady on there, Mister Wigg! I'll not waste Mister Greene with mending your mistakes!"

"Aye, sah. Sorry, sah."

"Careful, Edmund." Thomas Wheateham chided, smiling.

"Mind yerself." Wigg muttered back.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Lucy

Word had quickly spread among the crew of the Lucy that they would have some Spanish crew aboard. At first it was met with curiosity, then shifted to concern and even something akin to anger or fear. Were they to be more crew added to the ship, or just brought aboard for the trip to the next port? Details had been lost as the scuttlebutt filtered through many of the men. Some of the crew held the Spanish in contempt, and were even grudging of the French aboard, while others tried to calm the rising voices toward them. Charlie Goddon stood at the combing of the main hatch listening to the men below, and to the more subtle talk of those on duty. He had been turning a coin over in his hand all the while as he listened, half focused on the chatter and half on the coin. After a loud outburst of cursing below he stood tall and held the coin up to the light. After all these years the old roman coin still looked perfect to his eyes. He placed it deep in a pocket and crouched, grabbing the edge of the grating on the hatch and yanked it open.

“Avast below! Shut yer gobs til we hear the truth of it! No sense in getting’ all worked up like a pen fulla sheep who thinks th’ wolf is hidin’ in th’ barn! Cap’n will tell us th’ right of it soon enough so just hold yer tongues!”

The silence that followed was absolute. Finally, George Cosset found his voice.

“Oui, Listen to the Bo’sun mate, Aye-aye Monsieur Goddon…”

Some faces looked sour, but heads nodded and the conversations turned to lighter things. George looked up at Charlie and knuckled his brow and Charlie slowly lowered the grating. He looked around on deck and noticed it was just as quiet. He grinned and pulled the coin back out of his pocket and walked to the bow, leaned against one of the timberheads and smiled into the sun as he looked over the Lucy’s rig.

[Black Syren]

Before she could form any type of rebuttal Captain Brand had already moved on to other topics. Casting a quick glance to see Ciaran nearby she smiled half-heartedly at him then looked to where Argus lay then turning about moved back the way she had come. Only this time instead of entering the wardroom she turned right and entered the galley. Completely clueless she warily eyed O'Flaherty who eyed her just as warily and Treasure grinned ruefully. "I am sent to assist you..Cap'n said more mouths to feed?"

O'Flaherty merely hmmmphed and shook her head then pointed to the table where she was in the process of chopping vegetables. "Aye word is we are going to take on some of them spainards." Moving around the table she wiped her hands on ehr apron then gestured to Treasure to wash her hands as well. "Don't be knowin' much about cooking do ye?" she snorted.

Treasure blinked at her slowly and shook her head. "Nay, I confess I do not, we had servants for such." She watched O'Flaherty grimace and before the lady could protest that she would be of no use to her Treasure interjected "That does not mean I am incapable of learning. I learn fast and if you are willing to show me then we will be done that much faster will we not?" Rolling up her sleeves she eyes the woman with a no nonsense look and O'Flaherty throwing up her hands and grumbling neath her breath about hoity toity misses moved to the table and showed Treasure how to cut, slice and peel.

Leaving the girl to work she moved back to the other end of the table and began on the meats and kept a baleful eye upon Treasure. The girl awkwardly wielded the blade, but soon grew at ease and though she moved slower she soon gained confidence and moved faster. The potatoes were the most difficult and Treasure often muttered words unbefitting a lady and thought to hurl the small objects she gritted her teeth and soon learned the way of it. All the while thoughts of why the spainards would be aboard the Dog whirled through her head. She had only see them a few times, and the one time in the tavern where the one had grabbed her braid. Once again she gnawed on her lower lip as she debated asking the irate O'Flaherty for more information.

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Lucy

“Avast below! Shut yer gobs til we hear the truth of it! No sense in getting’ all worked up like a pen fulla sheep who thinks th’ wolf is hidin’ in th’ barn! Cap’n will tell us th’ right of it soon enough so just hold yer tongues!”

Benjamine smiled in the silence. Sailors were sailors. He had no fight with any man ...unless crossed. He began to wonder what sort of men were being brought aboard. Were they sailors or fighting men? He had no reason to doubt captain Brand's decision in the matter. Still an uneasyness washed over him. He turned in his hammock to lay on his side, he would choose to ignore the feeling for now ...if he could. Within moments he was rolling to his other side trying to relax his mind.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Small boats came and went in quick succession bearing goods purchased by the Navarra. Much of what was purchased came from neighboring ships, to make better use of the hour. With these supplies came almost three dozen men of the Navarra's crippled escort. They were a motley group, with many an interesting face, but almost all of Spanish origins.

"Look at them, Mister Warren." William mused, leaning on the rail. "We have wounded enough and Avendano sends me these...remains."

Jim Warren plucked a pipe from his hat and huffed, for many of the inbound Spaniards were visibly bandaged and beyond careworn. "There's more wounded than fresh."

"The remnants of Voulet."

"His folly or fortune." Jim added.

William puzzled again on the matter of so many Spaniards sent from a ship bearing a French name. There were no answers and there might never be any. "Well, the bargain is struck and we have enough to sail by. Send a third part to the Lucy and see the rest stowed with the goods." The Eighth bell of the watch was sounding as he spoke. William called for Mister Badger to fetch him some strong backs to the capstan and windlass. Then William hailed the Lucy.

"Ahoy there! Send word for Captain Lasseter!"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian had his eyes closed and as the bells rung out the end of the watch he slowly opened them and was about to make a comment when he heard Captain Brand hail the Lucy.

“Punctual as ever… Now begins the journey from this place unto the next…”

Dorian quickly stood and straightened his weskit and coat front, adjusted his weapons and shook out his sleeves.

“Miss Ashcombe… Preston… Make ready for a busy, busy day, I’ll be on deck if you care to join me…”

He smiled at them both and walked purposefully to the door up to the main deck, grabbed his hat on the way and was through the door just as Logan Christie was about to knock.

“Oh! Captain! I was aboot ta pass word ye was wanted by Captain Brand!”

“Aye Mister Christie, his voice travels well, thank you though…”

“Aye Sah!”

Dorian walked to the waist and looked out across the water to where the Watch Dog floated, and there stood William, who upon seeing Dorian touched his hand to his hat. Dorian returned the gesture and called out to him.

“Captain Brand! What have you to send me?”

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of the Lucy

Miss Ashcombe had remained standing near the table. The aire in the room was casual enough, however she would not sit until or unless the ship's master did. It would take some time to become accustomed to the difference in protocol amongst these men who were senior to her both in age and rank. Within the confines of the Captain's offices and quarters, there seemed to be a different or somwewhat casual comportment between them. She shifted from foot to foot and listened to their converstion taking the chance this time on the obviousness of absorbing all that was said. Jenny needed to feel out her unfamiliar place in the workings of this new setting. As she pondered what was said, a call heard through the open shutter nearest the Captain brought them up into the sunlight on deck. As she hurried to meet the longer strides of Captain Lasseter, Jenny steadied her hat against the wind with one hand. Out of habit she grasped for her skirts with the other, finding the sailors slops instead. Jenny huffed at herself and grasped the railing to give leverage to her haste.

[William Brand]

"A moment, Captain!" William turned to Jim who was counting the various Spaniards. They spoke for a moment and agreed that some 31 men were to join their company. William pointed to a boat carrying 11 of these. "Those men there shall be for the Lucy! Can you bear that many more?"

"Aye!" Dorian returned. "We'll find them a place."

"Thank you, Captain! Let us quit this place!"

"Agreed!"

William called for Thomas Crips and his fiddle and offered to share a song with the Lucy to weigh anchors by. Dorian was already sending down orders to raise the best bower as the last of the small boats scrambled to get supplies aboard in the midst of a departure that neither captain would forestall any longer. The air filled with shouting. Orders were heard everywhere, above and below, and the Navarra was no less quiet where she lay. The rigging, rails and bowels of every ship were alive with work.

Above all this din came the unexpected, lighthearted music of Thomas Crips. He was, as he had been reported to be, one of the finest fiddlers William had ever heard and he was glad of the music. Those men that bent their backs to his melodies, were equally glad. Music made the work lighter.

William stood, a man apart from the chaos. With all of the orders given, he was content to watch the machine of the frigate at work. Then he recalled a piece of business unfinished, and then another, and then a third.

"Mister Badger!"

"Sah."

"Food and fresh clothing for the prisoner, if you please."

"The prisone...ahhhhh...yes, sah." Jacob knuckled off a salute.

"And Mister Badger..."

"Sah."

"It seems to me that her accommodations are...disproportionate. It seems unjust to me that she should have the fore lastage all to herself while so many faithful should be alloted but a shoulder's span."

"Aye, sah. Disproportionate."

"Return her to the ranks of the Whole Company for work. I'll not feed the idle." There was a cold simplicity in William's tone.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

The Spanish from Le Vedette had to be helped aboard the Lucy as they were all injured from recent combat. Along with the supplies for them, Dorian had the men berthed in the hold, luckily for them they had extra hammocks. All supplies and men were stowed down before the Lucy took to hoisting her topsail and a jib, just to make way out of the bay. There was a palpable feeling of relief and exhilaration as they cleared the congestion of the port. Captain Lasseter had headed to the quarterdeck and gave a bearing to the helm of West Southwest a quarter West to gain some reach away from the island. He left word with those on watch to adjust the sails so as to keep the Navarra within long hailing distance for the next hour to make sure all three ships were on station for the first leg of the journey. Once that was taken care of, the Captain had the full crew assemble in the waist to be addressed.

“I’ve assemble you to let ye know wot we are about… I’m certain you already know we sail for Trinidad as escort to the ship that follows in our wake, the Navarra… And as you know we have a number of… survivors… from the Navarra’s last consort, Le Vedette… They’re ta be put off at Trinidad as well. None are fit enough as of yet ta lend a hand so they are our honoured guests, treat them kindly… Those of you who speak Spanish will be called upon ta help with ‘em closer, hopefully some speak French as well…”

He let that sink in a bit before continuing.

“As we are the fore guard, we’re also the scout ship, reaching far forward and returning as much as necessary to convey anything that might be a danger to our employers so this ain’t gonna be a pleasure sail. The enemy’s out there, always… But we are the fox, not the chicken, nor the hound. Nimble an’ swift, crafty. If the hound should give chase… we’ll lead them off and make ‘em regret the chase. Lucy’s a good ship with a good crew, Aye?”

“Aye!!!”

“Damn right you are! Back to yer duties and we’ll be passin’ through th’ Dragon’s Mouth afore ye know it!”

Wide grins were had by most as the men cheered and returned to duties or berths. Dorian stood a moment longer before heading into the waist and found Mister Pew and Miss Ashcombe.

“I think we’ll have a good sail… God willing, all the way ta Puerto de los Hispanioles…”

He placed his hands on the larboard rail and looked aft, seeing the Navarra and the Watch Dog with sails set and drawing.

“Aye… a good sail…”

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

William watched the Lucy fade into the brightening horizon on one of the clearest mornings they had known since coming to the island. Added to this view were some six dozen fishing vessels and a handful of merchantmen bound for the open seas. It was a good omen to see so much stretched canvas flying before a favorable wind.

Now, unlike any time since waking, William was anxious. The Navarra was not demonstrating as much discipline in her efforts, and her delay threatened to put them far behind the Lucy and waste a prevailing wind. Still, it allowed the last of the smallboats to finish the task at hand.

William went down and walked among the throng of strangers. He welcomed them in Spanish, and as greetings in that tongue completed his entire understanding of the language, conversation was brief. Cobus was employed everywhere to send directions to the battered refugees, as was Thorvald. William would have sent the Spaniards below and out of the crew's way altogether, but so piteous were some of their injuries, that he thought food might go a long way to keeping them alive. They were gathered at the galley to eat and within a few minutes of carefully orchestrated chaos they were all seated about the larboard side of the weatherdecks. Here, near the galley door, Treasure and Moira fed them a ladle full of heavy soup laced with cream and a hunk of bread that was still soft from baking. It was luxurious stuff, soon to be forgotten.

During this time the last of the Watch Dog's boats went to their cradled place above the gallows. Meanwhile, a smallboat from shore arrived almost too late, bearing the few belongings requested by Donatien from the night before. Monsieur Durand was most grateful of the clothing and chest and hauled them straight way to his place of rest, sending the boat again with a crafted letter for his countrymen.

Then, the Navarra was coming across their bow gaining speed on the wind. She moved well for a ship so heavy laden, and once moving it would take a considerable force to stop her. As she passed, Spaniards hailed Spaniards and William tipped his hat to Avendano as he went.

"Mister Warren! Mister Badger!" William called, and orders too many to count passed in rapid succession. Apart from the wounded, all were at work. The Watch Dog leaned hard over as she turned into the wind and William smiled to feel himself lean into the pitch of the deck. His hands clasped behind his back and a smile settled in his eyes. All he could see was the widening sea and the distant sail of the Lucy as she flew upon the water.

The Whole Company cheered to leave Martinique, but for Murin as she blinked her way into the day. She jumped when Petee touched off His Grace in farewell salute to the French.

Between first and second bell of the Forenoon Watch - Bearing West Southwest

Larboard Watches on Duty

[Black Syren]

As she and Moira continued to serve it was clear that they had no English among them or if so it was but a few words for none had spoken any in their prescence. Though to be fair they had said nothing to them either. As one man spoke to Moira gesturing to the food with his hands Moira frowned. “No more. That is it.” She said in a combative tone.

Treasure frowned then looked to the one speaking and as he repeated the words gesturing more rapidly with his hands his crewmates nodding her own frown deepened. “Parlate italiano? Do you speak Italian?” As she had to repeat herself more loudly to be heard over the din she felt herself the focus of all including Moira. One of the men tilted his head studying her, his black eyes cool as they searched her face. “Italiano?” He shook his head “Sono spak di I e di Antonio pochissimo italiano. I am Antonio and I speak very little Italian.” He again spoke slowly in his native language “L'alimento è buono. The food is good.” He again gestured to the food. Now that all the men were quiet and not but the creaking of the ship could be heard she could make out and understand what he said. And his hand gestures aided her in further acknowledgement of his words. She grinned and as Moira demanded to know what was said looked over to the cook missing the look Antonio made to the others. “He says the food is good.” As Moira flushed, her mouth suddenly gaped and she hmmphed again and moved off but her cheeks reddened further in pleasure. Spanish was not that much different from Italian at least not if hand gestures were involved. “She says Grazie…Gracias.” She went to move away from them but felt her braid taken hold of just as it had been the night of the tavern. Looking up to the one that held her braid she met warm black eyes “Amado.” He said pointing to his chest. “Mi nombre es Amado. ¿Cuál es el suyo? My name is Amado. What is yours?”

Slipping her braid from his hand she rose to her full height and glared at him before replying succinctly and in her own language “Il mio nome è tesoro e sono un fante di marina su questa nave. My name is Treasure and I am a marine upon this ship.” That said she whirled and moved off back to Moira’s side leaving the men to eat and to decipher her language. Excited whispers and murmurs abounded and she glanced over her shoulder and out the door as it escalated to a cheer “¡Tesoro! ¡Una tostada al tesoro, al perro guardián! A toast to Treasure and the Watchdog!” And met the cool glance of Antonio as he continued to assess her then she withdrew her gaze from his and back to aiding Moira who whispered “Well lass. Wot did they say?” Treasure silently worked for some moments her lower lip drawn thoughtfully between her teeth as she worked before blowing out a breath. “They gave a toast to the Watchdog. Their language is not unlike Italian though there are some words I do not know. But Antonio and Amado both have some knowledge of my language so I think we can at least speak to them if need be.” She shrugged and stayed silent as they went about cleaning up and preparing the next meal.

Again her lower lip was pulled between her teeth as she worried it and realized why all cooks had such rosy cheeks, it was very hot in the kitchens near the fires. Moira continued to teach her how to handle herself in the kitchen and Moira was impressed with the girls tenacity even when she was overcome with frustration. Treasure's concentration was broken by a sharp jab to her ribs and hastily glancing up she met Moira's glare "They be wantin' somethin else." She felt her eyes widen as she realized she had been lost to her musings and glanced over her shoulder as she dried her hands upon a towel. Folding the towel neatly back upon the edge of the table she had to brace her legs as the Dog pitched as the seas became more rough, before making her way back out the galley door to where they sat on the weatherdecks.

"¿Agua, puedo por favor tener más agua? Water may I please have more water?" She tilted her head for it sounded very much like acqua. 'Are you asking for water? Acqua?" Then held up a tin cup to which the man nodded and rubbed at his throat. She took his cup then moved off and ladled another sip or two then moved back handing it to him. "Gracias ¡Tesoro, gracias!" She gave an abrupt nod of her head then moved back to her work wondering where they would be housed and why Antonio continued to keep his cool gaze upon her, it was almost unerving. Almost, but then she was made of bolder stuff and eyes him chin tilted to a stubborn angle. Was he a leader in charge of his crew? He seemed to house some authority by the way he held himself more aloof, there was a certain mantle men of power wore and he did indeed bear such though he tried to not come across as such. A wolf in sheep's clothing? Or was she making too much of it? Still it did stand to reason the spanish might have a spy onboard, did it not?. As he broke his cool glance away from her and back to his men she felt giddy with triumph, at least enough to hum as she went about her work.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

"Feels goode Captain," Preston inhaled deeply. Preston stood with Dorian for a moment before fetching the ship's log from the ward room. He slapped the Captain lightly on the back and excused himself from the rail. In passing, he asked Young Mister Wayne to fetch the log line. Nigel was steady at the tiller and smiled at the young boy as he scampered about.

The whole of the crew was in good spirits, regardless of the surprise addition to the ship. Most on duty were involved in trimming of the sails upon each call from Mister Brisbane. Several stayed at the larboard rail watching the isle gradually disappear behind them.

Geoffrey had retrieved the log line and handed it to Preston. He tucked the small ledger under his arm and unwound several lengths of the line.

Geoffrey held flat the log, which was weighted at the bottom edge to enable it to float upright in the water. To the log was attached a long rope that Preston had coiled several lengths on deck. "The line 's wound on a spool so tha' th' log could be reeled out after 't was thrown inna th' water jus' aft."

Geoffrey looked confused. "Like th' bowers sah?"

"Aye lad, sommat like 't." Preston continued to explain how dragging the log in the water held the small board in place as the ship sailed away from it. Preston leaned down and felt each of the knots on the rope. "On th' line lad we tied knots 't every 7 fathoms, one fathom bein' equal to 6 feet." Preston stood an looked about for one of the crew who were nearly that size. He pointed to Mister Brisbane standing close by. "A wee bit tall'r 'n Mister Brisbane there." Nigel Brisbane smiled.

"Jus' a wee bit Mister Pew."

Preston had also placed the ledger on the deck now. He was using his hands to explain how as the ship sailed away from the log, the crew would count the number of knots that passed over the rail in a period of half-a-minute. That gave the Lucy her approximate speed in knots. "Can ya count the knots lad?"

Geoffrey smiled, "O' course sah." Patrick Godfrey had been watching. He saw Geoffrey smile and came alongside. "I did that with Captain Brand once," Patrick teased.

"So," Geoffrey replied quickly, "I'm doin' 't now." Patrick crossed his arms like the forgotten stepchild. Preston thrust the spool into Patrick's hands and handed the coil and log to Geoffrey.

"Right off off you go. Tell me when t' turn th' glass."

With all the excitement of Christmas morning, the two boys carried delicately the log line to the rail. Geoffrey looked back at Nigel then Preston. They both nodded slightly and Geoffrey slowly lowered the board into water. Patrick kicked Geofrey ever so slightly and whispered "tell 'im!" "Okay Mister Pew, turn the glass," Geoffrey kicked Patrick back in the shin.

"Dinnot forget t' count now boys," reminded Nigel gently.

The boys nodded as the log hit the increasing wake of the Lucy. The boys called out in unison each knot even as Geoffrey complained that it was his job; loud enough that even the Spaniards aboard smiled at the two bickering.

"Mark!" Called Preston to the boys.

"Seven sah!" The pair called out.

"Well done lads," remarked Preston. The crew on deck had stopped to watch the pair at the stern. As the log was brought back aboard, those on watch called out and cheered for the two boys.

Dorian Lasseter watched the proceedings and merely remarked, "...a good sail indeed…”

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Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: WSW, running before the wind

Speed: 7 knots, large wavelets, crests breaking

Wind: Gentle breeze, from the NE