The Watch Dog

[Black Syren]

The plate waving gently before her did not stir much air, but what it did stir she had never been more greatful for. Her clothes clung damply to her skin, her hair long though braided irritated the back of her neck and the comments from the spainards just required more effort than not to attend to, therefore ignoring it was easiest. How or why anyone would wish to work day after day where it was so hot was a mystery to her. And yet Mr. Gage was truly a wizard at his craft so she supposed that certain positions in life..be it cook or courtesan from thief to nobility required a certain skill and either you possesed it or you did not. She did not possess the talent in the kitchens though she silently marveled at what she had learned and it gave her a new appreciation for those who toiled in the galley and prepared the food she ate. She was almost ashamed to think that some positions loftier than others when in truth there was no position more important than another for it took each and every one of them to make the Dog what is was.

The plate wavered as she hear the spainards discussing Miss Smith and she stiffened shooting them a cold but lethal glare over her shoulder. This caused mixed emotions, some respectfully looked away from that glare, others even wounded such as Amado the flirt, as she had silently dubbed him, playfully begged introductions. Only one gaze boldy locked with her own and it was as cold as hers. Not one to back down she reluctantly turned her attention to Miss Smith who casually asked what they spoke of. A brow arched at her question and Miss Smith replied "Come now, I know you know what they have said. At least you know more than I have ascertained."

Again the plate waved before her face as she debated her words then spoke with utmost respect for the other woman. "They think the captain is a lucky man to have so many women aboard. Amado.." She smiled though without humour "Is a flirt and he wishes to make your aquaintace."

Miss Smith merely smiled and nodded her head thoughtfully "Does he. Tell me Treasure how well do you speak spanish and what if anything have they said since being on board?"

Treasure tilted her head, blue green eyes narrowing to slits of pure color "Nothing of importance at this time, at least not that I have heard. Think you they will cause trouble for us? As for the spainish, not as much as I would like but enough. They have some knowledge of Italian and between the two languages we can communicate."

Miss Smith nodded again storing the information and saying nothing more of the spanish though she did move away to talk to Mr. Gage about the evening meal. Syren continued to fan her face and stare out at sea as it passed by in startling shades of blue, her thoughts her own and suddenly far away.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

Faustino Quinones watched Tudor from the far edge of 'Port Spain', a nickname given to the frigate's port side by Robert Hollis, owing to the many Spaniards housed among the guns there. Faustino, one of many onlookers, watched Tudor with an altogether different interest than the others. While his fellow Spaniards continued to appreciate the Steward openly, remarking time and again about the Captain's 'luck', Faustino kept his opinion to himself. He agreed with them on some level, for the women was fair, but his estimation of her were loftier and born of other desires. His envy of the Captain stemmed not to base needs but to the idea of having a Steward at all, and the other luxuries touching the Captain's position aboard ship.

Faustino was man of ambition. More to the point, he was a man of opportunity and this was an opportunity like no other.

[Guest]

Cursing herself for having not learnt Spanish so many years ago when she had the chance, Tudor mulled over Treasure's rough translation in her head. Her vocabulary consisted of curses and a plea to use the privies, and while that always held her in good stead the few times she found herself in Spanish ports of call, as few as they, it left her helpless to eavesdrop now.

She contented herself, instead with scrutinizing the flock of men, memorizing every detail about their appearances, their statures - even to how they carried themselves - and mulling over what she saw. No detail went unnoticed, and all was done with the careful art of looking, without the subjects ever realise that they were being watched. The furthest thing that she could wish for was for one of them to think she was gazing upon them in favor.

Their antics made her smile silently as she talked to Mr. Gage, only half involved in the conversation. It never ceased to amaze her, how once a man has been starved of sight of the opposite sex, it will turn even an almost plain girl, clad in men's attire into a Venus that they all must clamor to gain the attention of.

Only one man's gaze held her true attention. His posture nor his eyes read flirtation. They read scheming. She knew the look well.

[Black Syren]

A loud thump as one of the men jostled another one into the rail brought her whirling about, the plate held like an ancient disc and she ready to hurl it at the nearest throat. Silence reigned supreme at this point and it was Amado apologizing profusely in spanish though he gave her a charming grin and a wink. A toss of her head had her gaze sweeping over them all to discern if there was any threat and finding none she relaxed her stance and leaned her shoulder back against the doorjamb.

"¿Nos todos dañan pensamos que usted nosotros intentaría cualquier cosa? We are all injured think you we would attempt anything?" The voice was sneering and cold and she tossed her head before stretching out against the doorframe and gave a slow sultry smile as it passed over the cold regard of Antonio. He seemed surprised by her about face but hid it well though his gaze was quickly drawn to the plate in her hand then back up to the gaping neckline of her shirt and as wary as any mans face can get.

"Voto en contra. Eso le haría absurdo y no le pienso absurdo. Nay..That would make you foolish and I do not think you foolish." Her gaze paused upon the one man whose gaze was hastily lowered though it was clear he was one who would need be watched. Or was she seeing things where nothing existed? Perhaps her conversation with Miss Smith weighed to heavily upon a mind fertile for such thoughts.

She quickly switched to Italian and let her vocals become husky, flirtatious "Ma ci è sempre una prima volta il mio amico. But there is always a first time my friend." She blew him a kiss then as the others laughed he continued to watch her though with a diffrent intrest for he to knew that she too would bear watching. She nonchanlantly moved back within the heated galley and catching Miss Smith's eye she winked and as she passed whispered "One of them....he disturbs me. But perhaps it is our earlier conversation, Si?" Continuing past Miss Smith she accepted a cup of water from Mr. Gage.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra

First bell of the First Dog Watch

Amador Pessoa was not a man of surpassing wit, and as the first bell came and went he was found among his fellow crewmen puzzling over the words of De la Cruz. He looked down at the food set before him, but the phrase 'You're almost fat enough' kept going through his head and this put him off his food.

"Are you not hungry...?" said a fellow sailor, reaching for his plate. Pessoa brushed him away hard enough that he almost upset the man and the bench he sat upon. There was some good humored chuckles at this. Then Pessoa began eating meager bites, if only to stave off those who watched his full plate greedily. He chewed the food with no real relish, but accepted more of it all the same when the cook came by offering second helpings.

"You never serve twice." Pessoa observed.

"We're shy a man, I think." the cook said, serving the extra fare to the few who'd have it. Then the cook looked about. "Where's that cousin of yours...?"

Pessoa grunted and glanced around the room unconcerned. He seldom thought of Zapatero as his cousin, for they were but distantly related on his mother's side. Zapatero was nowhere to be seen. Pessoa shook his head and was returning to his food when something in his stomach went very cold all at once. He stood up a little, but not so straight as to bump his head on the overhead beams. He peered into the badly lit corners and edges of the room. Zapatero was not there. He set aside the plate and began moving about the lower deck, slowly at first, and then carelessly shoving sailors aside as a momentum of concern built in his guts. There might have been protests at this, had it not been for a kind of stern, almost frantic expression on Pessoa's face. Then Pessoa found himself facing the Lieutenant across an open space in the throng.

De la Cruz was looking at him with no real expression. He had just chanced to be standing there when Pessoa looked his way. Pessoa blanched at the emotionless face, for there was something there in the young man's eyes. Something purposeful which gave Pessoa pause and understanding at the same time. De la Cruz did not speak, but Pessoa could hear the words from before in his mind just the same.

'Your blood is in the water, Pessoa.'

Pessoa's jaw tightened, for the Lieutenant's words had not been metaphoric at all. He now knew the purpose of the shots he had heard before and the cost of them.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

The afternoon wore on in to early evening. What excitement that had erupted in the last few hours now died to nearly nothing. With the Captain's last order, Patrick Godfrey ran to the officers. He knuckled his forelock and asked for his evenings orders. Preston asked the boy to make sure the lanterns on deck had new candles within.

"Come t' think o' it lad, bring 's up a few more from b'low. I have a feelin' 'tis gonna be a long night," said Preston.

The ship's master waited for the boy to go below before he turned and leaned on the aft rail watching the Navarra for a moment longer. He shifted his jaw from one side to the other as if he was chewing on week old bread. Charlie Goddon leaned in and joined him after a short report from his men.

"Charlie, wha' do you think 's aboard 'er?" Preston bluntly asked.

[William Brand]

Before Charlie could answer, Andrew Smyth was at Preston's elbow. "Beg pardon, sah. Mister Flint sends word. There's been a scuffle below. Stephen Hudless and John Black have..."

Preston and Charlie were already moving and Andrew was forced to finish explaining as they went. They could hear the dying din as they made their way below. They found Bill Flint and Stephen Hudless facing each other down, though Flint towered over the young Frenchman. Adam was helping John Black to his feet. and the arrival of the Ship's Master and Boatswain's Mate carried a weight that spread a silence, broken only by Charlie Goddon.

"What's this then?" he shouted into the shadowed space.

[Pew]

Preson crossed his arms only to match the expression on his face. He looked both men over. John Black was easily 20 years Hudless' senior, yet it was the elder regaining his feet. Preston squinted as this thought passed through.

"Do I have t' repeat m'self?," said Charlie in an octive deeper, yet louder than before. His hands went from his hips to a menacing stance nearly touching Stephen Hudless. "Mister Hudless, wot say you?"

[William Brand]

There was a subtle defiance in the eyes of Stephen's eyes as he turned from Flint, but his face changed at once as his expression was whitewashed by the lie which crossed his lips. "These are close quarters, Sah. We...collided."

Despite his inability to speak, Adam's face spoke volumes. Had he not been assisting John, he might have murdered Hudless on the spot, witnesses or not.

[Pew]

"Collided? Yet you stand on your feet and Mister Black, a man no stranger to close quarters requires assistance?" Charlie's stare drew the light from the room.

Preston moved to help John to his feet. The ship's master watched as Adam had nearly tucked his own chin into his chest, yet his eyes never left Stephen Hudless. "Is this true Mister Black?" asked Preston.

[William Brand]

"Aye, sah. I fell, sah." John Black confirmed, but it didn't explain the bleeding lip that would continue to swell over the next hour, nor the black eye that would form that night. Still, John managed his feet after assistance and didn't look too much worse for the 'mishap'.

Hudless looked apologetic and falsely meek, and Flint wore an expression over his shoulder that was less than neutral.

"No harm done, sah." John said with assurance, for he was an old salt and not given over to pettiness towards his fellows, deserved or not. This did not improve Charlie's mood towards Hudless, but it did raise his estimation of Black.

[Pew]

Two bells of the first Dog Watch had rung.

"With the master's permission, Mister Hudless, you will report to Mister Brisbane above to join the watch at the bow," Charlie turned to Preston. The ship's master nodded. Bill Flint flinched nary a muscle. He filled the space below deck and never turned his eyes from Stephen Hudless. Acroos the bulkhead, Preston made sure John Black was fit for duty, but made still him report to the Lucy's doctor. A simple nod then sent John on his way.

Charlie Goddon stepped by Preston and remarked a simple, "Sah," in his passing. Flint stared at Hudless even as he exited from below. "Back to your duties men", called the Master-at-arms. Soon regular conversion and its accompanying clamor resumed.

Preston moved closer to Adam. "Adam, I'd like t' see you 'n the wardroom son," stated Preston. The mute nodded and continued to set-up the few barrels and sacks that had been tossed asunder by the 'collision'.

[William Brand]

Once things were righted again, Adam made himself available to the Ship's Master, following him topside. He could see Hudless smiling at him across the deck. It was not so much a winning smile, as much as it was an 'I win' smile. Adam gave him a 'You'll pay for that' smile in return.

Hudless seemed all the happier for it and the two men made a silent appointment with an unresolved destiny.

[Pew]

Preston heard Ash near to him. He called to her abruptly and asked her to report to the ward room as well. She appeared outside the galley immediately. In mid curtsy, she caught herself and merely replied with a "yes sir." Preston lept up the stairway two steps at a time and sought out Dorian.

"'Tis a long night already," he said to no one in particular.

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Navarra

Pessoa had never been close to his cousin Zapatero, but the idea of him here one moment and gone the next unsettled him in too many ways to count. He tried to eat, and managed a little, but the meal was dragged out for a very long time. He felt very mortal in that place filled with too much heat and noise. It became too much all at once. He quit the place and went up to find air and solace.

De la Cruz remained below, feeling completely different than the fleeing fellow. The heavy air and company of the shrinking space felt safe to him. It probably wasn't safe at all, but De la Cruz didn't care. Since he could be nowhere else, this was his place of choice. He felt less important on the berth deck and liked the feeling.

One of the men chanced to ask him then about the shots from before, spoiling his mood. He simply looked at the man and gave no answer.

It was going to be a long night on the Navarra as well.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Galley of the Lucy

Miss Ashcombe had sought refuge in the company of Charlie Marsh, his kettles and his matter of fact manner which though rough about the edges, made him seem a simple and trustable soul.

He knew his place, kept his opinions mostly to himself and he did not judge those around him nor feel judged by them. Charlie was simply Charlie. Ship's cook. He understood that though his job was not glamorous or even thought of when one took in the gleaming guns and sleek lines of the cutter, he was nevertheless a most important part of the company. Men whose stomachs were filled and who had their health were hard and steady workers. Charlie saw to that. He fed the belley of the beast and prided himself on it though his only boasting was under his breath to the iron cook pot when the temperature in the small kitchen required him to remind himself why he signed on.

At the moment she entered, Tjaack had lingered past his watch stuffing his 6 foot frame into a corner out of the way where he worked a half full bowl of meat and continued his argument with Mr. Marsh. They had discussed some history between them now and again owing to their homelands and were locked in a debate over some ancient bit of fact likely distorted over time and tellings. Jenny stood by with a mug of hot broth and tried to follow the argument. As Tjaack emphasized a point he would interject words in Dutch and Jenny laughed drawing an odd stare from both. She quickly shifted her eyes to the floor and the debate continued only to be broken up by shouts from the berth forward. Immediately Tjaack dissapeared towards the fray. Jenny began to follow but Charlie grabbed her with one meaty hand and pulled her back within the galley drawing her further back past his aproned girth. Jenny stood quietly trying to peer past Mr. Marsh and listening just as closely as he. Once the situation quieted she peeked past the hearth and was summoned by Mr. Pew as he strode past flanked by a younger man. She glanced back at Charlie who jutted his chin in the direction taken by Mr. Pew "Go on then!"

Ashe once again gathered her skirts and hurried to the ward room. There she found Captain Lasseter filling his pipe from the tin of dark tobacco which stood on the shelf near the cupboard. He turned towards her reacting to her wide eyed expression. Mr Pew had not yet entered nor the young man with him.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy

Dorian had returned to the wardroom to look at the charts and mull over those questions he had no answers to. He even went as far as to write them in the margin of the daily log. Why this bothered him so much he did not know, but he would not let these thoughts overwhelm him. Captain Lasseter was about to head back on deck when there were sounds of discord forward and belowdecks. He almost rushed forward and into the crew’s berth, but checked himself as he heard his officers on the quarterdeck making their way down. As Quartermaster on the Watch Dog, he had been the officer to get to the bottom of issues with the crew. Now as captain, he would learn to wait and have the issue brought to him. He walked back into the wardroom and looked around, deciding what to do while he waited for what he hoped would be a short time.

“Pipe…”

He said to no one but himself and found his pipe where had last had it and searched out the tobacco he had purchased on Martinique. Once found, he began filling the bowl with the aromatic herb. As he did so, the door from below into the wardroom opened and he slowly turned to see Miss Ashcombe enter with a distressed look about her. His brow creased a moment.

“Miss Ashcombe… what is amiss?”

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny opened her mouth at once to speak, but paused, having little information. "I'm not quite certain sir, I believe a fight." Dorian's countenance changed "Fight?" amongst whom, Miss Ashcombe? were the men of the Navarra involved? " He waved the latter off realizing she would hardly be able to make the distinction. His expression changed "Were you present?" Jenny did not wish to conjecture on what she hadn't seen, nor speak ahead of the ships officer. "Sir I was not present. only nearby in the galley, there was shouting..Mr. Pew ordered me here, I believe he should be on his way with a man.." There was no more she could offer and Jenny glanced at the door expecting Preston to burst through. "I do not wish to speak out of turn sir, I wasn't there" Dorian focused on her a moment, should she have anything more to offer then turned to retrieve his coat, not wishing to appear too casually as he recieved what news was to come. "Very well Miss Ashcombe, please see them in when they arrive and... you may feel safe in reporting whatever it is you have seen or heard which affects this company. " Jenny curtsied. "Sir" and moved to the side of the table nearer the door to wait. Dorian shrugged on the coat and replaced the tin on its shelf. He continued to pack his pipe needing some small action to occupy his thoughts, forcing speculation out until all facts were brought before him. This business with the Navarra should not weigh so heavily with only a half day at sea.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Once Dorian had packed the tobacco to his liking, he set the pipe aside to wait for the Ship’s Master to enter with whichever crewman he had in tow. They had a very short wait, as moments later a single knock came on the outer door, followed by it opening and Master Preston entering with the man named simply ‘Adam’ in his wake. Dorian did no more than cross his hands behind his back and looked at the men. Adam closed the door behind them as Preston began to speak. He told the Captain of all he had been informed and seen below. Dorian took all this in and when he had finished looked to Adam who stood there listening and at odds with what Preston said.

“Aye Preston… very well… Now let us hear… that is let us find out the truth of the matter… Adam, if you please…”

The Captain motioned to the wardroom table, where he had left open the ship’s log, and other parchment and pen and ink lay. Adam understood what the Captain asked and stepped over to the table, hesitantly took up the Captain’s own pen and inked it, taking another moment to think and smooth out a blank sheet of parchment and began writing.

[Pew]

As Adam wrote, he contemplated what to say. He wrote for a few moments and then abruptly stopped. Preston peered over his shoulder and wrinkled his forehead. ""Wha?" he questioned. Adam pushed the ledger towards the ship's master who then picked it up and examined it closer; still confused. Master Whitingford handed the book to Captain Lasseter.

Dorian read the single sentence and closed the page. "Thank you Adam, that will b' all." The young man nodded, stood and closed the ward room door behind him. Dorian re-opened the ledger and read Adam's entry aloud, “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy rather in power than use; and keep thy friend under thine own life's key; be checked for silence, but never taxed for speech”. The ship's captain smiled at Adam's own irony.

"Dorian?" Preston asked.

"Shakespeare," replied the Captain, never raising his eyes from the page. "Adam knows something more than was reported, but will not put his friend Mister Black in that postion. There is something else, but we'll not know o' it. Keep an eye on Mister Hudless."

"Aye sah." Preston nodded and went to find Stephen Hudless.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter laid the open ledger on the table and slowly sat in his chair. He read the fine hand of Adam again, and was appreciative of not only the passage writ but also the handwriting. The man possessed an excellent skill, one any clark would be envious of. He slowly picked up his pipe and contemplated it a moment before speaking.

“What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord; 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him… Well put Countess…”

Dorian stood and looked at Miss Ashcombe.

“Th’ trials n’ tribulations of life at sea… especially when you have such a mix o’ crew as we do in this ship… when duty calls, most ev’ry man-jack does wot’s expected… but idle times, idle times allows fer differences an’ cause one ta have need ta do something… anything ta occupy the idle time… “

He turned and walked to the stern windows, stared out at the Lucy’s wake and those who followed it and spoke to the air.

“Do some good deeds so that the devil, who is our enemy, will not find you unoccupied. For the devil does not take easily into his work those whom he finds occupied in good… Take that as you will…”

[William Brand]

Hudless watched Preston's approach with no outward sign of concern. He wore the face of a man at work, and honestly felt that he was now beyond the pale. Having done the mischief of three or four men in his lifetime, he had often employed the use of lies and carefully crafted excuses so often that the lies had become a part of his makeup. For himself, he was always right, and believed it to the core.

Nigel knew the type. Every ship had a few. Nigel knew that it was not so important to keep an eye on any one of them, but to be wary that such men became friends with any other of the same kind. Separately, a man could be controlled. The smallest of rudders would steer a troublemaker. But let three or more come together in a congress of mischief, then damn the helm.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Belowdecks in the berth space Harold Press sat with his back against one of the starboard ribs of the ship. He chewed on a sliver of wood that he had removed from a piece he was whittling on. He’d seen what mayhem had been created by Mister Hudless, and could have told the officers the meat of it. But that was not his place to do so. The men involved would sort it out one way or another without involving the hierarchy of the ship’s command. This was the way of it since man took to the seas, on a ship of any nations military down to the lowly fishing boat or merchant. Harold shifted the sliver to his other cheek and thumbed the edge of his folding knife before working the blade into the wood in his other hand, removing material to create a form within.

Three Bells of the First Dog Watch

Larboard Watch on Duty

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

Just after three bells of the First Dog Watch

William set aside the quill and stood up. His neck audibly popped, as did his back in two places. He stretched every limb a little and walked about the ward room until his left leg had come back to life. Then he dressed down to his waist and bathed his face and arms.

It was warm enough that he was content to watch the open sea, half dressed. His thoughts turned to a churchyard a thousand years ago, and the girl that would live in his memories there until he died.

Then he put away the ledgers and ink pot.

"Send word for Mister Warren!" he called out the ward room door. Then he dressed himself for dinner and sent word to Lazarus that he should host all of his officers at the Second Dog Watch. He wanted company and conversation. More to the point, he needed it.

Larboard Watch on Duty

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Something about Steven Hudless' explanation did not sit well with the Master at Arms. The boy was lying, John Black was making excuses for him and Bill meant to get the bottom of it. Flint disliked liars and trouble makers of any sort. And that's what Hudless was, a troublemaker. Many of the new crewmen were fresh from prison, some of them having even been sent there by the company of The Dog herself, and he feared what a man like Steven Hudless could stir up. He checked the pistols at his waist and headed topside to find Hudless in the bow, when he saw the Ship's Master already headed that way he fell in quietly at his side.