The Watch Dog

[Black Syren]

Fighting a yawn she excused herself from beneath the canopy and Ciaran as well as Alan and made her way to the rail. The night wind was brisk and felt good on her heated cheeks, tendrils of hair escaping her braid forcing her to catch them to keep them free of her eyes. Leaning over the rail somewhat she could just make out the white of the waves as they crashed against the Dog and the spray lightly doused her face. The scent of the sea was strong this night and permeated her nostrils. Inhaling deeply she captured that scent in her lungs till the clamored for air and she exhaled gustily. The sky was in deep shades of Indigo and purples, the stars bright.

Turning from the beautiful view she made her way back under the canopy and bid both her companions a good night before rubbing Argus’s head and bidding him a good night as well. Making her way back towards the weatherdecks and then the corridor she paused to knock softly upon the door to the Surgery then poked her head in. Luigi was asleep but Ajayi was awake and watching her with an unreadable expression. Quietly she entered making her way to Luigi’s side and stroking back a lock of hair from his forhead, then she made her way over to check on Ajayi. Smiling she slowly raised a hand to his forehead and finding it cool to the touch resettled his covers and made sure water was in the pitcher next to him before bidding him good night.

Yawning again she made her way below and to her hammock when footfalls behind her had her looking up thinking it Ciaran or Alan. Seeing Oliver Randall she barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Unrolling her blanket she was startled to discover that Mr. Randall had come up behind her till he fondled her braid. Jerking free she spun about her eyes flashing as she shoved him away. They were alone and she hastily stepped farther back out of arms reach. “I did not mean to startle you. I was seeking companionship and you are a lovely lass.”

‘This is a working ship Mr. Randall and in case it has escaped your notice I am also a marine on this ship. If you seek companionship the others are on deck and I suggest you make your way there at once.” Her voice was cold, sharp, her features set to distaste.

The look of contempt on her face had him stepping further back, face flushing in humiliation "Frigid Whore!" he spat turning smartly on his heel and moving to his hammock further down, but the encounter had left sleep far from her mind. She could either make her way back to the others or prove his words and actions had unmoved her and pretend to sleep.

[Pew]

Preston sneered and caught Bill's expression in the shaded lantern's glow. "Accident, eh?" was all that the ship's master replied.

[William Brand]

Amador Pessoa stood at his post, one of only a few men armed to guard the decks of the Navarra. It was a distracting business to stand guard over the very men who had probably orchestrated the death of his kinsman only a few hours previous. He proved to be a very poor guard that evening, for he found himself returning to the task at hand again and again, for he couldn't keep his mind from wandering. One moment his thoughts would be bent to some foul murder or unanswered question. Then he would return to himself; his hands gripping the musket too tightly.

He cussed under his breath.

One of the few men he considered a friend happened by with half a rum ration. "Your watch libation." Pessoa eyed it without much interest at first, then he took it at once with a strange suddenness. He smelled it suspiciously. His friend simply raised an eyebrow and made his way to the next guard. Pessoa smelled it some three times more before he poured it over the side. This was witnessed by a confused fellow forward. Pessoa sent him a look that told the man to mind his own business. The man did.

Pessoa returned to his distraction.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill had been mostly joking about disposing of Hudless. However Preston's reaction served to embolden him to press his thoughts on the issue. Shipboard intrigue had worn thin Bill rather quickly. He had tired of troublesome shipmates from the day he'd been press ganged, and now that he was in a position to do so he intended to nip any potential troublemakers in the bud.

"Weeeeelll, maybe not over the side with him-though I'm not disinclined towards that option mind you Master Pew-but that man definitely needs a drubbing, or at the very least the fear o' God put in 'im.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy

His smile faded some when his Steward declared his life at sea as ‘most fortunate’, for she did not know of the hardships he had faced under the rule of Old England. Dorian sniffed sharply and drank from his glass, savouring the drink for a time before swallowing slowly.

“Life at sea for me has been… adventurous… aye, at times fortunate, and other times quite dark… And you will indeed learn more than just the musket while we sail… Such as yer duty as Steward aboard a fighting ship… and in yer spare time, whenever that might be, most anything else that might be available… “

Captain Lasseter turned to his meal, enjoying the sharpness of some cheese that complimented the wine. He noticed she had not yet taken up her spoon, so prompted her with more talk.

“Enjoy th’ fresh victuals while ye can… in a fortnight’s time this simple stew will be remembered as fare served in the best Inn.”

[Red Cat Jenny]

The Captain's words were sobering and at the same time a reminder of the differences and yet similarities between them. Their worlds were not perhaps so different in some ways as they had seemed. She had traveled through the better and the worse side of humanity as well as through different lands over her young life. He surely bore more experience than she, but the change in his expression and carriage brief as it had been, hinted of scars he must bear from a life lived in and at the hands of others. This observance called to mind the scar apparent on her own self though hidden, which would always remain along with it's memory owing to a darker time. That memory consumed her briefly as it would when it escaped the place she kept it locked away. Still it was frought with the same sting which hadn't lessened over time. She sipped slowly from her glass but being concious of her station, did not drink deeply to ward off the feeling and placed it as slowly back on the table. Taking up the spoon Miss Ashcombe tasted the stew and savored its quality. The thought of rations becoming meager or spoiled unnerved her as the reality of her choice brought itself plainy to light.

She had suddenly entered the war.

The words repeated themselves. ..Steward aboard a fighting ship.. "Sir, am I to take up arms? I have no experience in.." He interrupted her query "Miss Ashcombe, every man and...woman aboard this ship, shall take up arms as becomes necessary. You will not be expected to join our Marines in the first line of defense..they are quite capable. However every member of this company shall contribute to the defense of the whole." She replaced the spoon to its rest and suddenly fearful of her limited skills was compelled to silence. Her eyes flickered to the stern windows at the thought of an unseen enemy. Captain Lasseter noting her reaction, took to his meal allowing his words to bear in her mind. He again prompted her to continue her repast and began to explain the purpose and way of things on a Privateer. It would do no good to have a Steward frozen by fear or doubt despite the ability and confidence she had shown. Recalling his own less experienced beginnings, he resolved that she should be studied well in her purpose aboard his ship as he had benefitted in the better of times.

[Pew]

Roger Reeves presented himself to the ship's master and master-at-arms. His tales of Stephen Hudless were very near to those of Samuel Milling's: same plot, different details. He had personally seen one occasion where Stephen and another seaman had come to blows regarding which point of the compass they were currently on.

The ship's officers dismissed the man and he hurried along.

"Well, wot d'ya make o' Mister Hudless?" asked Preston.

"Permission t' speak freely sar?" replied the tall marine.

"Aye, wot say ye?"

"A right troublemaker sar. One o' two ways to deal with 'im as I sees it. Best fit here 's a good drubbing sar. Make him crawl back in his hole." The master-at-arms spoke from experience.

Preston squinted and ran his hand threw his long goatee several times.

"Aye Mister Flint, a good drubbing," Preston drew Bill in closer. "The Captain 'll 'ear none of it, eh? 'Twas an accident was it not?"

"Aye Mister Pew. Happen all the time 'board ship." A long devilish smile drew across William Flint's face. The smirk matched the one growing upon the ship's master.

Preston clasped a hand atop Bill's shoulder. The deed was done.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill set for the bow immediately to collect Hudless. He found him standing his post or rather he found him in a rather heated debate with Nigel Brisbane. Christ, but the nerve of the little bastard rankled Flint. "Not even ten minutes an he's at it again!" Bill thought. The discussion quickly died down as the two sensed the Master-at-Arms presence. The two snapped to attention and knuckled their brows. Pretending that nothing was amiss Bill addressed Stephen Hudless. "Mr. Hudless you will accompany me to the galley so that you may assist me in distributing a ration of drink to the watch." Hudless' face went sullen but he knuckled his brow all the same and followed the big Marine below decks. The had scarcely made it into the companion way when Flint whirled and struck the frenchman across the throat with both hands clasped as if he were swinging an axe. Hudless barely had time to register that he'd been struck or gasp for air before Bill was on him. The Master-at-Arms drove a knee into the other man's solar plexus. Flint caught Hudless' shirt front before he could hit the deck. Hauling Hudless upright again, Bill seized him by his hair and swung the frenchman's face into the bulkhead like a battering ram. He then delivered two swift blows to Hudless' kidneys cauisng him to soil himself. Bill then let him sink to his knees as he fought for breath. "Now listen to me boy, and listen good," Bill hissed, " I'll brook no further trouble out of the likes of you unnerstand?"

Hudless weakly nodded that he did. "Good," said Flint' " because if I even think any member of this crew looks like he's about to complain about you, you an I will put ashore at the next point and settle this in the manner perscribed in the articles." Hudless blanched, he hadn't been aboard long but long anough to know that the last thing wanted was to cross blades with or attempt to outdraw Bill Flint. He'd heard the stories, how Flint was some madman from the colonies, how he'd been raised by the heathens. The thought literally made him ill and he retched up the contents of his stomach. Bill heard a discreet cough behind him and turned to face a questioning look from Charlie Goddon and John Black. Flint thrust his jaw at Hudless, "Tight quarters, we collided." "Aye sah." replied Goddon and the two went on their way. Flint hauled Hudless to his feet "Go get yerself cleaned up a bit and report back to Mr. Brisbane, remember what I said now." With that The Master-at-Arms went cheerfully on his way.

[Pew]

Preston exhaled slowly. He knew he could count on Bill to accomplish the task. He shook his head to one side to catch himself in thought and then again as if to say to himself, 'nevermind'. The ships' master milled about from larboard rail to starboard, bow to quarterdeck, checking the rigging and ratlines. Preston knew the whole ship was taut, yet he found it as an excuse merely to join in the various conversations going on about deck. Some men sought information and if there was any credence to the rumor that the Navarra was filled with gold bars. To which Preston would smile and whisper, "Why would she need a consort of two ships twer' she naught . . ." Master Whitingford simply fanned the flames of stories of what was in the hold of the Navarra. He truly did not know what she held, but would not imply that to the others. He smiled.

The night wore on as the Lucy made a comfortable ten knots into the dark. Preston squinted to windward and watched for a moment. He saw it. Again, and then a few moments later, again. Preston moved closer to the rail thinking his vision may improve. Shaking his head, he looked above and saw Jerrod Styles looking to windward as well.

"SAIL HO!!" cried the lookout.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The meal finished, Captain Lasseter had leaned back in his chair and smiled at the calmness. The thought of a peaceful voyage to Trinidad crept into his mind. At the thought he felt a twinge and was about to set it right by knocking thrice on the table when a cry was heard from the lookout of a sail being sighted.

“Damn it all ta… My apologies… “

Dorian quickly stood and took up his coat, hat, and arms that had been laid aside and just as quickly left his Steward in the Ward Room and was on deck. He was straightening his coat as he stepped upon the Holy Ground and came to face Mister Brisbane.

“Where away is the ship that’s been sighted?”

Nigel had been saluting and made one fluid motion from knuckling his brow to pointing where the lookout had signaled. As Dorian took up the glass, Master Whittingford climbed the stair to his side. Without looking at him, the Captain addressed the Ships Master.

“Preston… what d’ye make of it?”

[William Brand]

August 6, 1704 - The Watch Dog

The Ward Room aboard the 'Dog was much as it had been, apart from a steady rise in volume as everyone imbibed in drink and conversation. William remained sober, both in spirit and abstinence, as did their new found doctor. Briar was alive with conversation, but like William, Maeve was content to watch,listen and bury herself in deep thought. William had wandered so far from the room in journeys of introspection that he did not here the cry from above, not that anyone else did over the din of voices. In fact, it was not the call which came down from the maintop that stirred William from his thoughts, but rather the gathering quiet of the room, for everyone was turning their eyes and ears upward.

John McGinty could just be heard, echoing a sighting that had already stirred the Lucy in full. "Sail ho!"

Then they were all moving out the passageway or up the stairs. Every conversation and thought forgotten.

[Pew]

"Hard t' say. Looks t' be a brig, she's pretty big Cap'n," Preston replied unsure.

The ship's master squinted again. Several crew had come to the rail peering into the darkness. Atop, Jerrod called out what he could see in the night, which was not much but direction and heading. He called down to Preston who extended his arm to starboard. "Two points, fine on the bow, t' windward Cap'n," the ship's master determined.

Dorian moved closer to Preston and grasped the rail.

The ship's master immediately began to calculate their own speed in regards to the sighted vessel. Preston looked at the water. The small crests were breaking, creating a minute whitewash among the dark swells. The wind was a gentle breeze and he gauged the Lucy's speed to be about 9-10 knots. He looked aft and saw the Lucy's ensign extended, but not whipping about. Master Whitingford had confirmed his estimate of the wind. He smiled.

"She 'as the weather gage. Mayhaps running t' Trinidad 's well? A merchantman?" The ship's master crossed his arms and leaned against the taffrail. Dorian Lasseter mimicked Preston's stance save for an extended forefinger that rubbed his lower lip.

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

Navigation Log of the Lucy:

Direction: SE, ship on the wind, closehauled on a starboard tack, sails full

Speed: 10 knots, large wavelets, crests breaking

Wind: Gentle breeze increasing, from the South

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Captain of the Lucy contemplated a moment before turning back and putting the glass to his eye. He caught sight of the ships lanterns and their brightness was enough to make out a couple of details. A brig or snow, no flag of nation flying, most of her canvas set. He couldn’t see if she had gunports, and if she did, none were open. Dorian slowly lowered the glass and put a hand on the rail, slowly drumming his fingers on it.

“Could very well be a merchant brig… can’t tell th’ cut o’ her jib in the dark an’ she ain’t flyin’ colours… Mayhaps you c’n see if she has gunports, or mebee she’ll get closer… If she does start runnin down on us, we’ll clear fer action – quietly as we can… Also drop some canvas an’ let the Navarra n’ Watch Dog close in so we’ll be quite a deterrent. Much as it would be grand ta run a British merchant down, our first order is ta protect th’ Navarra…”

He held the glass out to Preston so that he might have a look and possibly express his opinion.

[Pew]

"Aye, Cap'n."

Preston took the glass and held it to his eye. Although the seas were not much in the way of swells, he would have to wait for a moment until she went hull up to count her ports, if any.

She crested, and Preston counted out loud, quietly, "One, two, three, four, five, mayhaps six, no more 'n eight. Looks more like a snow, aye. Shall we fall astern o' her and gain the wind Cap'n?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

“Aye Lad… drop some canvas… we’ll slide astern an’ let th’ others close in… no need ta cause alarm just yet…”

Dorian paced to the sternpost and looked across the waters to the Navarra and Watch Dog as orders were carried out to dowse some sails, slowing their forward progress to Trinidad. He looked to the unknown ship and shook his head slowly at it.

"Three things it is best to avoid: a strange dog, a flood, and a man who thinks he is wise…”

[William Brand]

William stood a long time on the quarterdeck without sending down any orders. Officers of the frigate stood about near and far waiting for a call or cry to come down, but William simply stood, his glass raised. He could not see the unknown ship well, so he focused his attention on the Lucy.

"Sah..." Jack prompted at his elbow.

William did not answer.

"Shall I call the Larboard marines, sah?" Mister Hutchins asked the Sergeant-at-arms. Luc Otkupschikov shook his head very slowly from side to side.

"Steeeady...Mister Hutchins." William said slowly, without taking his eye from the glass. "Captain Lasseter has the matter in hand." A long silence passed with no one asking or offering so much as a word. It was probably only minutes, but with only William and Jim passing the glass back and forth between themselves in silence, it seemed much longer.

"He's falling off a bit..." Jim observed aloud.

"Mister Roberts." William said, still nodding in agreement with the Ship's Master.

"Sah!"

"Have the men stand ready."

"Aye, Sah!"

"Not so ready as that, Mister Roberts." William said calmly. "Just pass the word carefully to be alert."

Jack relaxed his posture a little and smiled. "Aye, sah." He put on an air of reserve and went from the quarterdeck as casually as a man in a park.

"Thank you, Mister Roberts." William received the glass again from Mister Warren and watched the Lucy fall off of her course almost imperceptibly at this distance. "It's a fine night, Mister Warren."

"It is that."

"Let's save the candles and the oil."

Jim smiled. "Aye, Cap'n." Mister Warren sent word for the lamps and lanterns to be doused. Every one.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Quarterdeck of the Lucy

As Captain Lasseter had turned back to look at the following consort ships, he noticed something peculiar. Was it a trick of the weather or were lights on the Watch Dog going out?

“Preston, bring the glass hither, quickly!”

Master Whittingford did as ordered and stepped lively, putting the spyglass in Dorian’s outstretched hand. The Captain laid it to his eye and focused it on the Frigate in their wake. A smile slowly spread on Dorian’s face and a low chuckle rumbled in his throat.

“William… you devil…”

The Ship’s Master had stood fast and now wore a questioning look on his face from the comment from Lasseter.

“Cap’n, Sah?”

“He’s dowsing the lights on the ‘Dog… making it look ta be just a wee cutter escortin’ the Navarra… If that snow has a mind ta try n’ make a profit from us…”

Dorian started chuckling again…

[William Brand]

The Watch Dog had fallen off the wind just enough that she was almost abaft the Navarra. The merchantmen's stern lights were stretched upon the foam of her wake, giving the 'Dog a trail of light to follow. Jack Roberts was forward amidships sending orders up the rigging and Mister Youngblood was walking the line of great guns. Jim came back up to the quarterdeck and William only just recognized him in the darkness. They stood as co-conspirators, close and in a congress of whispers.

"McGinty can make no more of her, but her size. The Watch Dog alone might take such a ship." Jim confided.

William did not agree nor disagree with this. "Still no colors?"

"None that can be seen."

William nodded, and framed the ship in the glass again. She was a hazy blur of canvas, up-lit by a few lanterns and William could mark no great detail. "How is the watch?"

"Curious. Quiet."

"Good. And those at rest?"

"Awake."

William shook his head. News traveled to fast aboard ship.

[Pew]

While alarm had not yet been raised, many of the crew were at the rail to catch a glimpse of the new vessel. Preston looked the men over and saw Bill had a few of his lads stand at the ready nearest the bow. Nigel had joined them on the quarterdeck.

"Less' take us across her stern Nigel. Very unassuming, as it were," quipped Dorian. "We'll change our tack jus' a bit and she if she does the same."

"Aye sah," replied Nigel. Nigel called forward to have the men adjust the sails.

"Damn near inta th' wind," stated Preston.

Dorian nodded slowly. "If she does change her course, we'll have th' wind. She can make th' first move."

Preston almost continued his thought for the sake of it being spoken, "Aye, an' if she doesn't, we'll jus' resume our course with her just to leew'rd; act like she's not there eh? If she is jus' a merchantm'n she'll jus' sail downwind."

"Precisely," replied Dorian smiling wryly.

With the sails adjusted, Nigel pulled the tiller into his side, "She's beating on th' wind Cap'n. Close 's I can get 'er."

"Excellent Nigel, hold 'er steady," replied Dorian. The Captain put the glass to his eye once more. "Cad is ainm duit," he said quietly, "do bogadh."

[Black Syren]

Having decided to climb into her hammock and pretend that his words had hurt her not she was very nearly asleep when the cry of Sail Ho had her eyes snapping back open to take in Mr. Roberts. Rolling free of her hammock she saw she was not the only larboard marine waking at the cry. "Captain says be awake and alert, just in case." That said he turned on his heel and vanished. Alan and Ciaran approached her and together the trio made their way to the weatherdecks and to the rail. A small crowd had gathered and she strained to see into the darkness but could only see the Navarra and the Lucy. Leaning over towards her companions who were much taller than she and whispered "What can you see?" Both men grunted and shook their heads having seen nothing in the darkness without a glass. She gave a small shiver as the night winds swept across her face and in the midst of the quiet a lone growl savage and true made the hair on her nape stand. Turning slowly she could make out Argus limping to her side, his ruff standing and teeth showing as the growl came from deep within. "Good lad," She whispered as she knelt burying her fingers in the pup's ruff, soothing him "Ye should be resting, come Argus." With the hand commands Ajayi had taught her the Pup growled once more then followed Treasure back to his bed neath the canvas. The men gathered having heard the menacing growl had all watched as Treasure quieted him then led him away. Jim the first to speak nodded to sea 'If they come the will find this dog has teeth." Tension which continued to coil about the ship lessened as the men laughed, some dispersing into small groups, some staying at the rail. Ciaran and Alan soon made their way back to Treasure who had managed to haul the huge pup into her lap. "Think you we will fight?"

Alan shrugged his shoulders peering thoughtfully out to sea.

A wry grin came from Ciaran who teased "Surely ye are not worried? This from a lass that climbs the rigging? That has tamed a wee beastie from hell?"

He grunted as Treasure leaned over and elbowed him, a silent snarl curling the pup's lips to reveal large canines.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Quarterdeck of the Lucy

Captain Lasseter kept his glass trained on the snow for some time. She was still too far away to tell what her intentions were, but her course continued to bring her across their path. His gut told him that it would be prudent to be ready for a fight, so in a very casual tone he addressed his officers.

“Preston, head forward’n find the Master Gunner an’ ‘is mate… Have ‘em ready our guns wi’ canister if you please, and do so quietly… “

“Aye Sah!”

Master Whittingford knuckled his brow sharply and did as commanded. Dorian took that time to draw his eyes from the snow and turn to look aft. There the Navarra sailed in the Lucy’s wake, and the Watch Dog was back there somewhere in the darkness. Putting the glass to his eye, Dorian scanned the Navarra and saw the crew who were about seemed agitated. Looking harder he noted a man with a glass pointed his way, so he took up his hat and gave a wave of it as a greeting. The man lowered his glass for a moment, paused, then sighted through it again. He continued to look at the stern of the Lucy for a moment more until another engaged him in conversation. All seemed well enough there so Dorian began to search for any sign of the Watch Dog. A good ten minutes later he could not see any sign of the frigate hiding, but he knew she was there, somewhere. The rumble of great guns being moved on the Lucy’s deck caused Dorian to end his searching. He looked forward to see many of the men hard at work, but in a slightly comical way. Each man was doing their utmost to be extra quiet, padding about on tip-toe and making faces when the level of noise rose at times. Men whispered harshly at each other and gestured wildly at times. Captain Lasseter almost laughed out loud.

“Oh yes, we are quiet as church-mice, but we shall roar as lions if we are crossed…”

Edited July 19, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[Pew]

It was dark. Shadows moved about the Lucy, each in their own way. Preston made sure not too many men were able to be seen in the flickered lantern's glow. The ships master made his way to the bow slowly, deliberately, seeing that the deck was cleared for action. The guns had been cast off and loaded, the decks sanded, tubs of water set precisely between the guns. Preston reported as much to Dorian.

"Upon your word Cap'n, we'll give th' guns crews linstocks an' lit match. Bill 'as the marines at th' ready wit' muskets b'low." Preston knew that some of the marines were already topside armed and awaiting orders, he knew that Dorian knew that as well.

Captain Lasseter nodded, "very goode. And now we wait."

[William Brand]

William found Tudor at his elbow. It was her smell that gave her away, and he was glad of the company. "A good meal, well prepared and presented."

"Thank you, Captain...but Miss Tribbiani put the table aright." Tudor admitted. "She has more court in her than I."

William nodded, passing the glass to Mister Warren, who was watching the Navarra more than the Lucy. "Please pass my compliments along."

"Aye, sah."

Jim was shaking his head. "A little panic among the Spanish."

"We'll make use of that if the time comes." William returned.

"Flushing quail." Tudor said, almost too quiet to hear it.

[Black Syren]

Reassuring the pup she settled him back to the bedding placed for his comfort and rose all the while growls came softly from Argus. Perhaps he was reading her tension, what with Mr. Randall’s previous actions and words and then what lay beyond sight. She stepped from under the tarp Ciaran and Alan following in her wake as she moved to the rail and stared out over the sea. The water was dark, mysterious and nearly tranquil, the very air about them seemed to vibrate with some unknown secret, the winds whispering that something was amiss, to beware.

She startled as Alan brushed her elbow and as she turned to him he jutted his chin to someone approaching them on the rail and turning again caught sight of Antonio. Again he was composed and she wondered what it would take to ruffle his feathers.

“¿Cuál está inoportunamente? ¿Por qué doused la luz?” What is amiss? Why has the light been doused? His tone was all but demanding as he ran a cold gaze over her face then quickly to where the Navarra ran before them, then on to the Lucy.

“Quizás senor que usted debe hablar al capitán.” Perhaps sir you should speak to the Captain

This did not placate the spainard and for a moment she saw what it took for him to stay so icy, but then his resolve strengthened and his cool regard was back in place. Something was underfoot and he was concerned..was treasure really aboard the Navarra?

She looked to the opposite rail to see if Captain Brand was still about and if so he was lost by those about him. Feeling uneasy herself she looked to Alan who asked what was being said and bit her lower lip before replying “He wishes to know what is afoot. I told him to speak to Captain Brand.”

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy

The snow continued on its course for a time then faltered some. Captain Lasseter watched this and commented on it as he passed the glass to the Ship’s Master.

“Sails luffed a bit, whoe’er on th’ tiller ‘s lettin’ her slide… Still ain’t seein’ colours er much movement aboard… “

Dorian rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his shoulders, taking a look around the Lucy and beyond. It was then he saw that the crew of the Navarra had acted too hastily. They had run up the great empire of Spain’s flag.

“Deargamadán!”

Preston took his eye from the glass and turned to see what the Captain made such an exclamation about.

“Wot’s ‘iss Dor-“

“The Bloody fools run up the Spanish colours! Deargamadán! The fool! Well now, we’ll see wot our ‘guest’ does… Nigel, bend th’ French colours ta th’ line if you please…”

“Aye Sah!”

Dorian just stood and glared at the Navarra and at the snow to see what the next move might be.