The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

Preston’s question near struck the captain dumb. The smile on his face faded, and he became thoughtful. He went to speak twice, but refrained, rethinking his words. Dorian cleared his throat, took up his glass and drank half of it down before finally finding his voice.

“Family… aye… no, I can’t say I have… not that I have much left… and not that I could…”

He got quiet and rubbed his chin, looked out the stern windows a moment before turning back to those in the wardroom.

“No… I’ve sent wot I can back home… Can on’y hope wot was sent made it through… Faith n’ providence…”

He gave a quirky smile and drained the rest of his glass, set it on the table again and stood. He felt he was keeping some truth from Those in his confidence, but it could not be helped, nor did it matter so much. Mayhaps in the evening he might breech the subject again and talk of the past. Not now though… the sun was too bright to speak of the past.

[Pew]

Preston could feel the subject was tense with Dorian. He drained his cup, nodded, and rose slowly.

"Aye sah, faith 'n providence." Preston drew from what drops he could that remained in the glass. "See y' on deck Cap'n." He placed the glass carefully on the table and closed the ward room door behind.

Preston squinted in the bright sunlight and made his way forward to begin his rounds.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

Andrew Light and Kevin Norman were amidships with Simon Buttery and Thomas Wheateham. They were employed their in the maintenance of the swivels which had all been brought there for cleaning. It was good, busy work on a fair day and Andrew was in the midst of regaling them with stories of the war. Some equal to theirs, but some more adventurous. He proved a good story teller, and even William and Jim listened as they stood hard by.

"They fixed us with an acrimonious look which we..."

"Acrid-moanus...?" Kevin cut in.

"Acrimonious." Andrew corrected.

"What's tha' then?" Kevin asked.

"Indignant." Andrew offered.

"What's tha'?"

"It means angry." Thomas explained, shaking his head.

"Ahh." Kevin returned, accepting this without truly internalizing it.

"Aye. They fixed us with an angry look, being close enough to us for us to see their repugnance."

"What's repug'ance?"

"Good God, Kevin." Thomas cursed. "Have you no words a'tall?"

"Contempt, Mister Norman." Andrew explained, then added several more words less burdensome. "Disregard. Scorn."

"Ahhh." Kevin said again.

"You trip a good tale." Buttery muttered. Kevin was nonplused by this. He seemed content to be a less educated man without aspirations for learning, though he was possessed of a natural curiosity that should have made him the avid student. Mismatched attributes in a man of mismatched gifts.

"How did you come away?" Thomas asked, trying to refresh the tale.

"Impatience. Pride perhaps." Andrew began, shrugging. "Though our superior in the fray, they sought to...well. I believe it was their intent to demonstrate superiority in all things, and having fired upon us more times in a minute than us upon them, they taxed their guns. Or perhaps they missed some necessary assurance regarding their guns, or even powder. Whatever the case, there was suddenly explosion which tore her apart at the bow. So violent was it, that one of their own rained down upon our Starboard rail and our cook was killed by some shattered bit of that ship."

They all paused and nodded knowingly, but for Kevin. Then they went again to their work.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of The Lucy

Miss Ashcombe took in the casual exchange both spoken and not between the ship's Master and Captain. A separate conversation played out subtly in each ones expressions as they spoke. Unexpected perhaps in the midst of the most uncomplicated of subjects. Jenny mused that a crew of so many who lived and worked as one, were still knit from the intricacies of each life perhaps and most likely unkown to the others. She wondered how many stories lay within the Lucy and it's inhabitants and considered her own now added among them. What personal and private thoughts might the two men before her have kept from each other despite an obvious kinship? Yet the moment was dispelled with a practised casualness and passed quickly into the daily matters of the Lucy. A language that was easily spoken without awkwardness. She smiled some at this curtsying as Mr. Pew made his way and wondered if she would ever know such secrets as had passed in the ward room that moment. She would not meet the Captains eyes again, wishing not to interrupt him in his private thoughts and instead busied herself with stowing Preston's glass. Jenny reached for the wine, but paused and left the bottle on the table.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

William retired once to the officer's head that afternoon, for reasons of discomfort, but also to rest awhile from his station aboard ship. Afterwards he lingered in the Ward Room to rest himself from any movement, for the day before had come to roost in the waking of sore muscles and more then a few road born bruises. Tudor, ever aware of his hunger, thirst, weariness and wants, brought him a broth of no substance but salt and heat.

It revived him like nothing could.

The afternoon continued like this, with many a man aboard woken to his mortality by good, honest work. Those men from the prison and the wounded Spanish were especially reminded of joints unused or much abused. William went forward to see all of those in his charge. He passed a good word where it would do the most good, but in the midst of one compliment he paused, as did everyone awake.

"Was that musket report...?" Jim said, suddenly at his elbow.

William did not answer but was passed his glass as he went to the rail. He pressed it to one eye and it took him a moment to find the Navarra through it. She lay ahead of them off their Starboard bow. There was no activity aboard ship that demonstrated urgency or alarm, but he watched just the same.

"What see you, Mister McGinty?" Jim shouted up the main mast.

John was scanning the decks from main top. He shook his head slowly and returned no discernible explanation for the report. Even as he said this there came a second one, and with all quiet aboard the 'Dog, the sound carried easily.

"What the devil...?" William said under his breath, for he could see no activity that would explain the first or second shot. The Navarra looked unchanged. "Mister Otkupschikov!"

"Sah!"

William said nothing, and he didn't have to. The marines of the watch, though spread about the deck, were aware of their requirement if the need should arise. For the moment, everyone watched the Navarra for a third report which never came. William wondered if the sound had carried on the wind all the way to Lasseter.

Between six and seven bells of the Afternoon Watch

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough had kept very much to herself for the past few hours. She stood now with the others on deck anticipating the meaning of the distant musket blasts. Until this moment she had managed to avoid them, volunteering for work that would keep her farthest from her crew mates. Thus far no one had asked why she had been locked in the cable tier and she dared not give them the opportunity. She responded to officers with a nod of her head or in one word sentences. Captain Brand had not given her permission to speak, nor had he called for her. She hated this waiting, this not knowing.

As the marines began to place themselves about the deck the remainder of the crew began to speculate amongst themselves about the sound that halted their work. Murin quickly returned to her work but not before Nathan Bly made eye contact, glaring at her once again. Had she thought him capable of causing her harm, she may have felt fear, instead she mourned the loss of her friend. She wondered why he had been chosen for the ships liar.

When he had been chosen she had wanted to yell out, "NO, not Nathan! I should be the Liar!", but to do so would would be disobeying orders and she would not make that mistake again. In defending Nathan she would be betraying not only herself but Captain Brand as well. She had known her folly in speaking to John Sterling but had had not understood the implications of “talking to the enemy” until after Captain Brand warned her yesterday, informing her that she had compromised not only herself but her captain and her crew. She would hold her tongue no matter what. Speaking her mind had sent her to Barbados and the Hodge Plantation. Speaking without due caution had landed her in the cable tier. She was now keenly aware that she alone was not at risk, that Captain Brand, for whatever reason, had chosen to allow her to remain on the Watch Dog despite her associating with the enemy, despite her letting his name slip from her lips to the ears of the Englishman. Could she ever explain that John Sterling was not their enemy? Suddenly she was struck with fear, she crossed herself and said a silent prayer. "Dear Lord, nil let det bae a shot frum John's ship!" She was forced to remind herself, "He sails under the English flag ...that makes him the enemy."

Edited May 8, 2009 by Silkie McDonough

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

After Preston had left the wardroom, Captain Lasseter walked to the stern windows and put an arm up, bracing himself on an overhead deck beam as he stared out into the ocean. His fellow officer had brought up semi buried memories of a lifetime ago, a life that he had no way of getting back. He pondered this for a moment longer and turned back to his Steward who had begun to clear the table. He almost felt a need to explain himself a bit further to her, as she really knew very little about him or anyone else on this ship. It seemed that faith and providence was something in abundance in these waters. His smile came back easily as he watched her at her duties, which she had taken to well enough. Above the wardroom he heard the order to adjust course given and this brought him back to his present duties. The tiller creaked slightly as it was pushed over a couple degrees to larboard, and soon after returned amidships. As the Lucy took on her new course, a sound was heard by Dorian and many above. It could have been mistaken as the sound of canvas snapping, but it was too distant for it to be that. Feet shuffled on the Holly Ground above and a stillness occurred. Even Miss Ashcombe noticed the demeanor of the Captain change slightly and remained quietly observant. A second report was heard, this time more distinctly and it was confirmed in Dorian’s mind as a musket shot. With a curse under his breath he took up his coat and hat and exited into the waist and was momentarily on the Quarterdeck. Preston had the glass to his eye, pointed aft over the rail at their small convoy.

“Report Mister Pew… Where away did the shots come?”

“Not fer certain, Sah. Coulda been th’ Dog or th’ Spanish, can’t say.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes as he looked at the other ships in their wake.

“Other vessels o’ note around us?”

“Nay Sah.”

“Sommat’s amiss… Mister Tucker, take in some canvas, slow us down some…”

“Aye Captain.”

Lasseter turned and scanned the deck, picking out the Sergeant-at-Arms and the Gunners Mate.

“Brocke Get Mister Flint on deck and assemble th’ marines, Mister Aretineson, You get Johnson and ready th’ guns – quietly if you please…”

Both men knuckled their brows and were off. Turning aft again he was met with a curious look from Logan and even Mister Wittingford. Dorian stepped two paces to the stern and placed a hand on his pistol.

“Sommat’s amiss… dunno wot, but I don’t wish ta seem too obvious that we might be in th’ know… Preston… find out if Mister Marsh or Roche found our guests taking of anything… out of place…”

“Aye Sah”

Edited May 7, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[Pew]

The Lucy

Preston turned and called for Maurice, and waved Charlie over. Preston quickly discussed their call to action and the three men went below with decided urgency.

The heavy musty smell had drained from below since they had been underway. Humidity and concern hung like a cloak as Preston and Charlie made their way aft. The noticeable din had quieted since word had been passed that shots had been heard either aboard the 'Dog or the Navarra. The Lucy's men still lounged about in hammocks or went about their day with menial tasks, but the Spaniards began to huddle in small groups. They felt the Lucy slow as the canvas began to flap.

Charlie remained larboard as Preston made his aft around the starboard stores. Maurice continued to the bow, but found few of the men ahead of the mainmast. Most had gathered at the view points to see astern. Mutters, murmurs and mumbles continue to grow among the Spanish. Not one stood out throughout the passengers, save for three men. As Charlie approached, they fell silent much to the chagrin of their crewmates. Charlie Goddon rested his hand on the timbers above him, "Anything th' Captain should know mates?"

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: WSW, running before the wind

Speed: slowing to 5 knots, small wavelets, some crests breaking

Wind: Gentle breeze remains, from the NE

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe opened her mouth to question, but the Captain departed in such haste as to leave the Ward room door ajar on its hinges, grabbing up his hat and coat as he left. He muttered something in his native tongue as he passed but his attention was clearly focused above. Jenny crossed from the where she had still been standing at the cupboard, closed the door and placed an ear to it. Then thinking the better of this should one or more burst back in, she hurried to the stern windows and squinted against the sunlight of outside and back towards the neighboring ships. The scene appeared as it had over the past few hours save for the sunlight as it increased. She furrowed her brow and pressed her face close to the glass holding her breath as not to cloud the view. Still nothing. Footsteps and voices grew and silenced on the deck above but she could not make sense of any of it.

Familiar with the crack of a firearm in the distance, jenny did recognise the sound which brought Captain Lasseter so quickly to action. Initially she had only taken note of it almost unconciously. It was common to hear hunting at mid day in the fields around Isle De Generosite which were rich with fowl and small game. However here she quickly understood that such a sound would be of quite a different nature. Here perhaps men hunted men.

A chill rose in her and she gripped the bulkhead as the Lucy slowed.

[William Brand]

The seventh bell of the watch came and went as the Watch Dog was brought to bear upon the Navarra. William had given Jack permission to fly before the wind unchecked and they soon paralleled her in their course. William called out from the holy ground and was answered by the Ship's Master of the Navarra, Iker Calderón.

"All is well, Captain!" Calderón called, before any inquiry could be made. Then Calderón was gone from the rail, even as William was about to call again. He and Jim exchanged a look.

"Strange business." Jim muttered. Minutes past, but as they could see or learn nothing, they returned to the business of the day.

"Mister Roberts."

"Sah."

"Fall off to the East and return the 'Dog to the rear guard."

"Aye, sah."

[Black Syren]

At the sound of gunfire Treasure leapt from where she reclined and towards the rail to better take in the Navarra. Nothing appeared to be amiss and yet something must be, but what. She gripped the rail watching as they closed distance on the Navarra and she could hear the Captain calling over. She could not see what transpired but felt the Dog slowly drift back to it's original state. Eager to see what had transpired she went to turn from the rail only to run into Moira who beckoned her back to work. Groaning she followed and was soon put back to work for the evening meal and that soon had her attension firmly affixed and the gunfire and what may or may not have happened far from her mind.

At one point she flexed her spine hands to her lower back kneading and glanced up catching the cool regards of Antonio, tossing her head she glared at him then shifted around and went back to work self consciously feeling his eyes upon her.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Quarterdeck of the Lucy

The Lucy’s speed dropped off and soon the Navarra and Watch Dog were closing on his quick little cutter. Dorian had taken up the glass and was watching the happenings on each ship. The closer they got, the more detail became apparent. He watched and comment to those others on the quarter what was seen.

“Th’ Dog’s comin’ up on the Navarra quick now… Deck ain’t cleared fer action, but the crew’s lookin’ fit fer a boardin’, that’s good… Dog’s ‘longside th’ Navarra, I see Cap’n Brand, not sure who’s returnin’ his hail… Lets see wot happens here…”

Dorian took the glass from his eye and took in the scene unaided by it, watching to see everything at once. He let out a ‘harumph’ when the light frigate disengaged and settle back to the rear. Dorian took up the glass again and began muttering to himself.

“Not much conversation there… too short… but Will seems at be satisfied… Damnu ort…”

He stepped from the rail and shut the spyglass sharply. Turning he back on the Navarra he looked at his waiting crew.

“Stand down Lads!!! Take yer ease, but not too much of it! Tucker, keep us close ta th’ Navarra, no more than a league ahead…”

“Aye Sah!”

As his orders were carried out, Captain Lasseter turned back to the Spanish ship and narrowed his eyes. His arms crossed behind him, both hands grasping the spyglass. There he would wait for his officers to ask him his mind, if they dared.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra

Lieutenant De la Cruz turned his gaze upon the assembled officers. "I will not be intimidated."

"Intimidated?" Capitán Avendano looked up from his meal. It was just one meal of many that he had during the afternoon. The man was forever eating. He filled his mouth again with food and glanced to his right, his way of passing his tongue to his constant mouthpiece.

"The unfortunate events of the day have nothing to do with you nor your place here, Lieutenant." Doctor Tarín assured him as he sipped his tea in his usual insipid fashion. "These matters have the support of the Church and Kin..."

"The chuuuurch." The Lieutenant snarled, insulted by this for many reasons. "You give purpose to this injury by naming King and Church."

"Remember your place, Lieutenant." Tarin growled, which won him the long, unflinching regard of De la Cruz. Doctor Tarin was not prepared for the young officer to fix him with such a threatening look, and his tea cup paused somewhere between saucer and lip. De la Cruz did not blink once, but stared with all the control and coldness of a man who has been reminded once too often of his place. Tarin, try as he might, could not hold the stare that raised the temperature at his collar. The Doctor found that a muscle flinched involuntarily at his temple and he would have turned away from the Lieutenant's reproving look, but he was rescued then by his benefactor Avendano.

"Lieutenant..." Avendano said in a long and purposeful purr. De la Cruz blinked ever so slowly and turned back to the Captain. Iker Ruiz Calderón and López de Arriortúa, the ship's master and bosun, watched this interchange with mixed expressions. Avendano set his fork aside and the practiced smile of the devote liar spread over his face. "The purpose of this journey is greater than us all. We must, for the good of our country and our God, see this cargo brought to Trinidad at any cost."

"At any cost." The Lieutenant repeated.

Avendano nodded, smiling ever. "Yes." He sipped his wine, thinking his need to speak was over and done, but he could see something in the young man's eyes he did not take for obedience or retreat. "The matter is closed."

"Aye, Capitán." The Lieutenant agreed, but his tone did not endorse his words. "Closed."

Avendano dismissed him then and Lieutenant De la Cruz went, but with the air of one who only goes by choice and not command. The nature of the departure was not lost on anyone, including Avendano. When the door was closed fast, the captain said to everyone and no one in particular, "That one needs watching. Fool and a cast off son." He muttered, and he did not make any attempt to keep these words from passing beyond the portal. Still, De la Cruz was already beyond hearing.

The sunlight hit De la Cruz full in the face like revelation when he reached the weatherdeck. He paused, half in sunlight and half in shadow, and had the chance to laugh at the allegory in the moment. He closed his eyes and shivered once. He felt very alone then, but Gasset was at his elbow at once.

"What news?" Gasset asked in hushed, conspiratorial tone.

"We must not be seen together after today." The Lieutenant returned. "Never be seen with me."

"A hard thing to accomplish in a shared grave."

"Don't be clever, Gasset." De la Cruz opened his eyes. "It's better not to know me. I've a flaxen cord or two tied to millstones."

"Is he...dead?"

"It might have been you, Gasset." De la Cruz fixed his friend with a look that was both affectionate and terrible. Gasset had never seen so much tender warning, fear and murder at once in a face. It smote him somewhere deep in his heart and he found that he had no words. "I'm a dead man, Gasset. They'll come for me before this business is complete. Be not near me."

"They would not...dare..." Gasset whispered, but he said this with no confidence. "The men..."

"No one will dare the field against Avendano. He holds excommunication and execution in his hands." De la Cruz looked about the deck and swallowed hard. He was suddenly aware of three small drops of blood on his sleeve and he quit Gasset's side before he could speak again, too worried to keep his friend's company now that he had crossed a conclave of fallen angels.

[Pew]

The Lucy

Charlie grabbed one of the men by the shirtsleeves while Preston took the other. The sea of men had parted as the ship's officers headed back to Dorian.

Once on deck again, Preston saw the 'Dog fall off and adjust her course. Things appeared normal save for the look on Captain Lasseter's face.

"Cap'n," Charlie interrupted, "these two may know som'thin. Got real quiet all of a sudden."

Preston agreed but remained without speaking. Dorian had something to say. The ship's master raised a single eyebrow and waited.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter stood as if he were part of the deck, the only things that moved were his eyes as he looked not so much at as into the two Spanish sailors brought before him. The corner of his mouth twitched once and the muscles in his jaw tightened and relaxed. The Holy Ground was getting crowded and this was not to Dorian’s liking.

“I’ll here wot they have ta say in th’ waist, if you please…”

Nods were made and Preston corralled The two men formally of La Vedette into the waist with Mister Marsh’s help. Maurice was just about to join the assembled on the quarter when this change of location was made and nearly fell backwards to get out of the way. The two Spanish were set on the main gratings with Charlie on one side, Preston the other, and Maurice behind. Captain Lasseter slowly and deliberately descended the stair and into the waist. Again he looked into the men who appeared bewildered. He did not look up but spoke in such a calm and even tone it was almost disturbing.

“Monsieur Roche… ask them what they know… what is amiss on the Navarra… I want answers… now…”

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra

Lieutenant De la Cruz stood at the rail awhile with his eyes toward the Watch Dog. She was leaning over to the West now as she was made to crisscross on the wind bringing her a little closer again, but to far away to see faces. The sight of her eased the tension in his stomach a little. A mirthless laugh that was little more than a grunt escaped his lips as he thought of the frigate protecting them from enemies without.

Amador Pessoa joined him then at the rail. "What mean you to do, Lieutenant."

De la Cruz said nothing. He simply looked at Pessoa and huffed another grunt, shaking his head. He had seen Pessoa at Avendano's side too often to trust him, but then it occurred to him that he might know Avendano's mind better by playing him close. "What will you tell the Captain, Pessoa? Would you understand anything I might tell you well enough to make Avendano understand me?" Pessoa did not answer immediately and De la Cruz smiled. "You deny being in his service too late, Pessoa."

"I don't know what you mean, Lieutenant." Pessoa said, trying to recover some state of neutrality.

"Of course." De la Cruz nodded. "Of course. Then you won't understand that Avendano will only feed and clothe you until he sends you to slaughter." De la Cruz jabbed the man with one finger. "You're almost fat enough. A few weeks more perhaps."

Pessoa's brow furrowed. He was a large man of significant strength, but these words caused the man to stumble a little internally. De la Cruz bore the man no malice, knowing that Pessoa was not as bad as some and better than others, but it delighted him a little to put an Avendano man off his guard. De la Cruz stepped forward suddenly and the tall man was overbalanced a bit. He took a step back and was further unnerved when De la Cruz leaned forward a little and sniffed the air, looking down at Pessoa's feet.

"Your blood is in the water, Pessoa." De la Cruz walked away then and left Avendano's man to fret and ponder the strange, unexpected remarks.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

Maurice asked the Spaniards in their native tongue what Captain Lasseter wanted to know. The man the Ship’s Master had brought forth looked to his companion and the other shrugged slightly. The first man turned to Dorian and began speaking rapidly, almost too fast for both Charlie and Maurice to catch all he said. Twice the other man interjected a comment and on the second occasion the main storyteller elbowed him. The story was told in one continuous stream of words until he finally ran out. Maurice began the tale as best he could.

“Capitaine… He say that there is unrest among the crew of Navarra, too much politics and… what is the word…. Ah…. relationships to close?”

Dorian looked at the two men a moment.

“And where was this information garnered?”

Maurice asked them and the quieter of the two answered. Charlie laughed a cynical chortle.

“Oh jesus, wot’s heard r’ half heard between crew durin’ a gam… ain’t worth shite…”

Dorian only shook his head slowly as he continued to look into the men. Suddenly the quieter one burst out.

“Oro! Oro de España que es pasada de contrabando lejos!”

Dorian knew the word ‘Oro’…. Gold… Maurice now wore a look of disdain.

“He say Spanish gold is being smuggled from Spain.”

Again Dorian stared into the men for long enough that the began to sweat from more than just the heat. The first man to speak was about to do so again when Dorian quickly shook his head.

“Take ‘em back b’low… nonsense… paltry scuttlebutt if I ever heard… Mister Whittin’ferd, with me…”

As Charlie and Maurice took the men below, Dorian headed back to the quarterdeck and Preston followed. There he stood and looked across the water at the Navarra. When he knew Preston was at his side he spoke.

“No… petty talk amongst a crew… they know not a thing, but something is not right aboard that ship…”

[Pew]

"Aye Dorian," Preston agreed, "something 's not a bed o' roses." The ship's master smiled wryly. He looked side-to-side and lowered his volume to nearly a whisper. "Why would a simple merchant ship seek th' consort o' two well armed vessels on a simple voyage t' Trinidad?" Preston paused a minute, "But wha' if she does 'ave a cargo o' gold?" The eyebrow struck a familiar pose. "Come t' think o' 't," Preston added, "Th' capt'n dinnot 'ave much t' say when I took th' boys o'er for a bit o' sup on th' Navarra. Tight-lipped they were, aye."

Dorian looked Preston in the eye. He knew the man never to mince words. Something had rubbed his friend the wrong way and now Dorian began to scratch the same itch. The ship's captain leaned on the rail with his first officer mimicking his posture. Dorian merely squinted in line of sight of the Navarra and repeated his last observation, "Mister Whitten'ferd, something is not right aboard that ship."

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

The officers of the Lucy were not alone in their speculation. William, Jim and Jack Roberts stood on the holy ground weaving the possibilities aloud.

"Some training...?" Jim offered.

"Perhaps." William returned.

"A lack of discipline in the ranks. Drunken revelry?"

"Perhaps."

"Some matter of mutiny settled quickly."

"Hmm."

Jim smiled. "You're keeping your thoughts close."

"Aye." William agreed and tried not to smile as Jim shook his head. "It's pointless to create nothing from so little. They have their business and we ours. I can see no treachery in the unexplained report of a musket or two. Besides, we have their company and the Lucy. the company of allies in a world at war."

"Three against whatever lies out there." Jack interjected.

A silence followed as each of them considered the possibilities of the Navarra. She remained before them off their starboard quarter, quiet as she had been before the shots, but for the occasional shouted order of the day to day.

"Weeeelll...they'd be fools to turn on us at sea." Jim added.

"Aye." William said, then added. "Paid passage." He said this as much to remind himself as he did the others. Their arrangement was as simple as currency. Being in the wilderness of the New World, that arrangement carried more weight, and the thought of weight brought William back to the observation so many had made aloud. "She sits so low in the water."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Cannon?"

"Perhaps." It was Jim's turn not to agree or disagree.

"Gold." Jack said, his eyes widening a little.

"Bound for Trinidad?" Jim's tone was incredulous.

William's brow furrowed. "Perhaps."

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

The Captain was silent for a moment more before speaking again in a low tone.

“Afore we left on this sail, I had told m’self wot lay in th’ Navarra were none o’ my business… William had made all th’ arrangements an’ that were good enough fer me… I’m privy ta all that was done, and nothin’ were outta sorts wi’ it… As fer them seekin th’ two ships as armed consorts fer th’ voyage ta Trinidad, their own escort was blasted near ta wee bits, makes ye uneasy, so… good enough reason as any…”

He was silent for a time, as if that would explain it all. As the turn of the watch came, from the Afternoon to the First Dog Watch, and the crew traded positions and information, Dorian hammered his fist on the rail once.

“Damn… Damn it all ta hell… Just gotta let it go til sommat else says not to…”

He turned and watched as the deck was turned over to the fresh men.

“Mister Brisbane, Mister Goddon, have th’ marines take turns every turn o’ th’ glass as a rear lookout. Give ‘em a glass ta keep an eye on th’ Navarra for anything… unusual…”

Both men saluted and Nigel headed to the waist to make arrangements with the Master-at-Arms.

“I’ll not be caught off guard…”

Captain Lasseter stepped from the Holy Ground and into the waist, turned back to Preston and Charlie.

“Have Smyth keep a sharp an eye as ever as well to what may be ahead…”

They nodded and he nodded in return, looked to find Master Johnson near and nodded to him likewise.

First Dog Watch begins

Larboard Watch on Duty

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe grew pensive. Simply waiting about was a helpless and frustrating feeling. She looked hard at the scene behind them straining to gain more of the vista with each small maneuever of the ship. Jenny knew her eye was untrained in matters at sea and she hadn't any idea what to look for save for anything amiss. The view remained as it had. The watch sounded and Jenny heard the footsteps which accompanied it. Mr. Marsh had explained the watches at length to her while she waited for him to fill her tray. At first it was confusing, but she had begun to become familiar with the portions of the day when the men shifted from work to rest and likewise. Still, it was not completely clear to her and she'd made note to write them down should she procure parchment and a new quill. The only writing implements Jenny posessed were the letters tied in green ribbon and a quill which had broken owing to the first days of fleeing and the rough travel. There was a bottle of ink half full but useless as if it had been empty without a proper utensil.

The movement of men and the empty feel of her own stomach prodded her to seek out the galley as it would soon be time for the evening meal. Jenny went to the basin and washed her hands and face. She'd taken to no more than a glance in the small glass hung where the Captain had placed it for his use. Days of running and being aboard these ships had not provided the comforts and acoutrements required to maintain an appearance of quality to which she was accustomed. Need and preservation had taken the forefront on her thoughts and she had begun to avoid too close an inspection fearing the distressed image she imagined she surely presented.

Jenny exited the ward room by the hold intending to procure a fresh candle to mend by if time allowed later in the eve. As she stood waiting for her eyes to adjust in the dim light about the stores, she was passed by a few crewmen on their way from within the sections of goods and items unfamiliar. She recognized none but mustered the courage to stop one of the younger ones as he passed.

"Mr.." The young man not so much her junior by his looks, stopped and hazel eyes regarded her from under a shock of sandy hair. "O'hara.."

he paused "Patrick...marine mum" he added the latter though he truly wasn't sure why as he did.

Jenny ventured to question "Mr..O'Hara, there were shots.." "Aye.." was the only reply he gave, a question in the brogue of his speech. Jenny felt the blush of perhaps overreacting but continued in her query. "Is it quite safe now? ...to be moving about?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled at first and she felt sure he would mock her wide eyed query, but his gaze then rose to the deck above them and his face took a serious turn as he considered silently what she did not know. "Well..there's been no call to quarters, aye....aye mum we're quite safe.." The crinkles returned..and he regarded her for what seemed slightly longer than proper "for th' moment " he added and turned to the call of "O'Hara!" from further down the hold. He touched his brow and hefting his sundry dissapeared in the direction of the voice leaving her to ponder the purpose of his comment. Whether it was a warning or designed for his own amusement, she no longer wished to be alone. Jenny gathered her skirts and headed towards the light and warmth of the galley.

[Silkie McDonough]

Mister Quigley had fallen asleep. He knew this for two reasons. One, he had to be wakened for his next watch and two, he had been dreaming. The images he recalled were independent of each other, as vivid as memories but of no places or events he could recall from his lifetime. His imagination often ran like that when he was on the water after a day or two. This time he was doubly glad for the sleep because the churning in his innards was now gone. He stepped into his shoes, slid into his shirt, grabbed his neck scarf and shrugged into his waistcoat as he sprinted to the head. After relieving himself he continued to dress tying the neckerchief around his bald head making it to the waist well before the bell rang to start their watch. His early arrival was rewarded when he was assigned to the foredeck. Now he sat on the forecastle deck working a rope into another another Monkey's Fist as requested by the bosun and waiting for the next series of commands needed to adjust for the winds and water.

Edited May 13, 2009 by Silkie McDonough

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

First Dog Watch Begins

William gave over the holy ground at the change of the watch. He went below with too much mystery on his mind, too many concerns unanswered from the past few days and too many mouths to feed aboard ship.

He was tired.

Tudor was there. He smiled at his ever present steward and began to toss away unnecessary things, beginning with his hat. He looked at her from across the room. "What think you of the Spanish?"

"I hardly know him, sah."

William paused in the middle of shedding his baldric. "I'm sorry...?"

Tudor looked up from the tray she was clearing. She tried not to blush and just managed it, having thought the question more specific than it was. "Sah...?" William blinked and shook his head, wondering if he was more tired then he felt. He dropped the cutlass and belt onto one of the chairs and repeated the question. "I have no opinion, apart from finding the decks over crowded, sah."

William nodded and fetched out a few ledgers. He was woefully behind in his bookkeeping of the 'Dog. He opened them to find several loose pages that he couldn't remember penning. "What are these?"

Tudor looked them over and smiled. "Tallies of the cargo brought on at Martinique, Captain. You were away, so we each took a turn at the glass, and...the ink well . William could make out several different hands and nodded, placing them on the table. "We could not be sure you wouldn't have details to add, so we kept them separate from the log."

"Thank you." William smiled agreeably. "Most kind." Tudor placed a rum share before him, but he waved it off. "See that to any of the wounded who would have it. I had my share of it at the island."

"Aye, sah."

She made to leave as he began running his hand down the page columns. "You have a very even hand, Tudor," he said without looking up. She smiled as she went out.

[Guest]

Smiling as she made her way to rid herself of the the Captain's unwanted rum, she thought to herself how she had rather enjoyed the small amount of work she had contributed to the ledgers. Mathematics had never been a strong point for her, but there had been so much coming and going in the last few weeks that she was pleased that she could make herself useful, even if just in the small ways.

As she continued, she thought to earlier in the conversation. She wished she had some perspective to offer the Captain at his request, but to her, the Spanish were just another client, had paid their fees. Some had whispered of treachery or illicit deals. Neither prospect made her overly concerned. The Spanish had paid the Watch Dog to be it's escort, not to meddle in it's affairs. As for any dangers of attack, Tudor thought that at worst, such a skirmish would prove a distraction and not anything more. The Watch Dog out numbered and outgunned their companions.

Finally, her first answer to the misheard question encroached on her pondering. It was not so much what she had said, but rather that it was said at all. Such comments should be kept to herself. Her distraction and her thoughts of one of the Spaniards in particular rather then as a whole were things that in times past would never have passed her lips. She was weakening - feeling entirely to comfortable in her place and with the people in this place. This unsettled her. Looking down at the cup she bore, she quickly downed the amber liquid, to calm her nerves. She would pull from her most times untouched rations of Rum to make sure that the Captain's wishes for his portion should not go unfullfilled.

Perhaps she would go to the galley. Surely to cook w would be overwhelmed with all the extra mouths to feed. Her culinary skills may have been limited to Squirrel stew and hardtack in the past, but keeping busy was key to keeping sane.

[William Brand]

Tudor found Lazarus seated on an unmarked cask. He had a rudely turned pottery cup in his hands filled with something dark. He smiled to see her walk in, but it was a thin thing. He was tired. The galley had a kept heat to it that was stifling, and what little air came in by the weatherdeck door only served to remind them that it was only just a little cooler out there.

Syren was at the door, fanning herself with a plate. She looked both better and worse for the day's work, but she was on her feet. A Spaniard remarked on her not ten feet away and she didn't so much as roll her eyes.

Lazarus started to get up when the Steward came in, but Tudor waved him down. She helped herself to the rum barrel, measuring off a healthy ration. Then she served out some food for herself and ate standing. Everyone was quiet, content to share the room without talking. Lazarus uncovered a coper pot, revealing a fair sized bottle and nodded at it, but Tudor waved it off.

Then Christopher Newstubb was at the door begging the use of a good knife, for he could not find his own. Lazarus shook his head with a wry grin and sent the man again with a kitchen knife almost too long to be practical.

Like the rest of the ship, the kitchen had settled into routine.