The Watch Dog

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill was tired of walking so he sat down on the frost covered meadow and stared up at the moon and stars admiringly. He'd heard his mother calling so he had rushed out to meet her, but now he couldn't find her and he was very sad. He was pondering this and watching his breath form in the cold night air when he was interrupted by a bustle in the shrubs off to his left. The great bear walked out of the woodline and slowly towards him until it was directly in front of him. Then it promptly sat up on its haunches as if it meant to join him for tea. Bill was marveling at this when suddenly a voice that seemed to come from the bear and nowhere at the same time spoke.

"Why do you have my hatchet flint child?"

"Tammanend", Bill nearly choked on the word for he knew the voice all too well.

"I buried the hatchet with William Penn at Shackamaxon. Now it is painted red again and my heart weeps." the voice said.

"I'm sorry great Sachem, I beg your forgiveness-what must I do?" Flint pleaded

"Do?," Tammanend scoffed, "What can you do William, you are DEAD!, the great peace is broken and my hatchet will be painted red forever!"

And Bill wept. The sobs shook his body uncontrolably. Then the bear put it's paws on his shoulders.

"Would you see this wrong undone?" Tammanend asked

Bill nodded but continued to weep.

"Would you live again to make it so?" The voice continued.

Again Bill nodded.

"Well then..if you would live again....", the voice came only from the bear now. It remained familiar but it was no longer Tammanend's and Bill could not place it.

"Well if you would live again", the bear leaned closer and the shadows revealed it's face to be Dorian Lasseter's, "THEN FIGHT FOR IT LAD!"

AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Bill Flint sat up with an unholy roar as a bubble of vitae escaped his lips, before crashing back to the deck of the Lucy and into a deep sleep. Cyrus O'Madden barely crossed himself before fainting dead away.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As Captain Lasseter watched his men in the shrouds fight to cut away the yard tangled in the Lucy’s rigging and watch the snow settle further in the water, a noise like no other he nor any other aboard had heard came from the Lucy’s deck. It so startled Harold Press that he nearly jumped out of the shrouds and became a windmill of arms until Jerrod Styles was able to grab him and haul him to safety. Seeing this, Dorian turned angrily to where it had come and roared at his men.

“Wot th’ bloody hell was that an’ who made that noise! This ain’t no bloody time fer such tom-foolery!”

As he marched woodenly across the deck he saw Cyrus in a heap and Patrick O’Hara looked as if he’d seen a banshee. All the rest of the crew looked as bewildered as Dorian and had no notion what had made or where the sound had come as they were either stowing the goods brought aboard or watching the snow die. The Captain stepped over to Patrick and shook him by the shoulder, causing the man to jump. A moment later he was staring at Bill Flint lying on the gratings. He pointed a shaky hand.

“Twas h-him that made that wail, sah! Sat up from th’ dead and-and, Devil’s possessed ‘is body, sah!”

He began to back away and fell over a bail of some sort and went sprawling. Dorian shook his head and leaned close to the form of Master Flint and noticed some fresh blood on his mouth.

“Wot in hell?”

He put his hand to Bill’s cheek and he was warm to the touch.

“Damn me! Get th’ Surgeon! Damnit! Now! Here! I dunno how but he has life in him yet! Damnation! Fight for it Lad! Hold Fast, damn you!”

At that moment the yard let go and freed the dying ship from the Lucy. As the yard came free, it spun about crazily while the masts of the snow dragged down the Lucy’s larboard side.

[William Brand]

It was hard for William to ignore the noise of the snow grinding upon the Lucy, but ignore it he did for too many of his men were in the water for his liking. Lines had been tossed over for their recovery, but William was still obliged to risk two more men in the recovery of Gabriel Edward.

As the rescue played out orders shouted aboard the Navarra carried to them in the dark as she slowed on approach. The men of that ship were lowering away smallboats in a fervor of pending aid. This both pleased William and annoyed him and he found that he did not favor the company of the Spaniards in that moment. Perhaps it was the timing of their arrival, being too late to offer any true assistance, except in form only. Perhaps it was their nearness, sitting as idle observers to the Whole Company's unfortunate loss of the snow. Whatever it was, he wished them anywhere but here.

Then Robert Hollis surfaced again sputtering. Cradled under one arm was the limp, lifeless form of Gabriel Edward. He coiled the nearest line about his hand and forearm and cried, "Hall away!"

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Lucy had rolled to Starboard when the rigging was freed from that of the snow, then as the snow settled further and made contact again, the cutter rolled to Larboard. Wood was heard to crack and snap, as well as lines groan and crack like whips when they parted. All those aboard who were on deck and able, moved Starboard to keep away from harm. It was as if the snow was a drowning man trying to save himself by grabbing onto anything he could to keep from going beneath the waves. Or, maybe liken to a man succumbing to death and trying to take who or what he can with him. Whatever the case, it was not working as the deck of the snow began to flood. Her stern quickly dropped beneath the water and she tossed about violently. Her masts whipped over to the Watch Dog and gave her a sound rap before swinging back towards the Lucy once more. As a final act, her mainmast came down on her longboat that had been taken by the Lucy’s sailors and pulled it under. As her mastheads slipped under it was eerily quite for a moment. Someone coughed, and shifted about, and young Mister Rowan appeared on deck and seeing the Captain announced that the Doctor was on her way. This caused the rest of those on deck to spring to life and continue working to square away the Lucy.

[William Brand]

William found himself still shouting and stilled himself. The drowning snow had almost claimed the men in the water again and he had never shouted so many orders in such short succession. Now he was at the rail watching the last of them come aboard, half drowned or drowned altogether. Gabriel was so wet with water and lifelessly limp, that he slipped from reaching hands, but it proved an accident to his benefit. As his body struck the deck he sprayed up a great cough and gasp together that sent him into a fit of wet vomiting as he sputtered back to life and rolled over upon the deck.

William joined a few others in a small chorus of encouraging voices all telling Gabriel to give the seawater back to the sea. Then, his men safe enough, William was at the rail again.

"AHOY, THE LUCY!"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian stood over him Master-at-Arms waiting for the Miss O’Treasaigh to appear and assess what was to be done to keep the man alive when he heard Captain Brand hail the Cutter. Turning towards the Frigate, Dorian stepped to the shattered rail and looked for William. There he stood amidships amid a throng of sailors facing the Lucy and searching her for her Captain, so Dorian assumed.

“Ahoy Cap’n Brand! What news, sah?”

Edited September 27, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[William Brand]

William almost laughed, but he was too weary. "News? How is it with you? Is the Lucy much harmed?"

Before Captain Lasseter could answer this, the frigate was hailed loudly from the Navarra's smallboats on approach. William and Dorian once again heard the clear, welcoming voice of the Lieutenant. William acknowledged him on approach and called to Dorian, "Let us gam together and speak on matters of the moment!"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian took in and blew out a deep breath before answering. He almost wanted to just drop all sail and let the crew rest, picking up the work after a watch had passed.

“Aye-aye William! We shall be alongside soon!”

Turning inboard, the Captain made to shout those orders, but found Nigel at his side, fresh out of the shrouds.

“Ah…. Nigel m’boy… Have th’ lads get our poor ship alongside th’ Watch Dog, eh?”

Nigel, seemingly unaffected by the fight and work, appeared well rested and smiled as he knuckled his brow, turned away and did the Captain’s shouting for him. Lasseter stepped back over to the gratings and began to kneel down and all the injuries he had suffered in the battle made their presence known. Had he not had his cutlass in hand he surely would have fallen to the deck. Instead he used it as a cane and lowered himself to one knee. There he bowed his head and mumbled to himself.

“Bill… She’ll make ye right… If she don’t hurry, I may be layin’ next ta you soon.”

Raising his head and slowly looking about, Dorian felt the weariness begin to settle into him. Mustering his strength, he stood back up and walked aft and into the Lucy’s ward room. Nearly tripping down the stairs within, Dorian used his sword and chairbacks to help him along and to the sternbench where he sat heavily.

Edited September 27, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[William Brand]

Maeve was as weary as she had ever been and she made no effort to hide it, but for her silence. When she reached Bill's side she was the very painting of her occupation, being as red outward as she felt inward. She knelt and pressed her hands here and there upon the man and called for a lantern so softly, had those near her not watched in silence, this order might have been lost. It did not help that so many were working to bring the Lucy to the 'Dog, even as the 'Dog was also brought to them, but she blocked all of this out.

'Medicine is an exercise in walls of will', her father had often said. She held up these walls with the willowy remainder of her calm. She was her father's daughter and she would carry this man back from the brink if the man might be brought. She went to work on him there and then in the open air of the Lucy's littered and bruised deck.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny had stood with the others or near as possible while they fought to fish the Watch Dog's men from the sea. She witnessed the death roll of the Snow as it grappled it's attackers, seeking to pull them down to it's final resting place. A longboat the only prize it's weakened grasp managed, as the last of it slipped under with such finality. Images sure to be pondered at a later and safer time by more than one who had so far survived the battle only to be endangered by the product of their own deeds. She turned from the place where she had sought shelter from the flailing masts and fleeing men and made her way across the deck seeking to be useful. Secretly hoping to be needed by none. Jenny's bones ached and the skin of her cheek burned. She was soaked in places and bloodied in others but cared little for she was still freshly aware of being alive.

The scene all about was surreal and the absence of the ship she had only shortly plundered the depths of with Miss Smith, left the Watch Dog and Lucy as if they had done battle between them. Around her Grunts of effort and heavy breathing interspersed with short speculation as many of the crew were still employed in finding stowage for all manner of goods. The cackle and braying of livestock and the scrape and thump of crates and barels being dragged across the bloody sand of the deck. She marveled wearily almost in a manner subconcious, as she passed through this otherworld how the business of war was conducted. Not a moment wasted or a man spared who could work. Though they gave willingly she supposed for their share of all that was taken. Shortly she reached the ward room and paused with her hand on the latch wondering if the scene below would be more solemn than when she'd left it. She entered intending to descend the ladder and seek Mr. Marsh when she was met with the sight of Captain Lasseter slumped his head on his hands, leaning on the butt of his cutlass at the sternbench.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mister Tucker had been employed at the helm of the Lucy as the snow passed to the depths, and the aftermath of getting the Lucy to the side of the Frigate. He had a commanding view of the deck and all that had happened and watched as his captain headed below, guessing he was near exhaustion. He and Nigel and their mates would have no problems following the orders given, however he wondered if the Ships Master was fit enough to command the deck. By Nigel’s word he knew Mister Whittingford had been wounded, but it sounded none too severe, yet he hadn’t seen him since the battle. Whatever the case, he’d know in time, but right now orders were to be carried out and hopefully some down time would follow.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Fearing the Captain had been newly attacked, she looked hastily about for an assailant. Seeing none, she rushed to his side but stopped, confounded momentairly in the haze of her own exhaustion betwixt command, propriety and the state he was in before her. Miss Ashcombe stood before the Captain unsure of where to start. His clothes were soaked and the wool darkened by seawater made it nearly impossible to discern where his injuries may lie. Jenny put a hand to his shoulder gingerly and it came away pink, blood and water mixed. But so many of them had been soaked in the blood of others. He looked up from his position and straightened slightly a grimace betraying the difficulty of any small move. "Miss Ashcombe, you are well?" "Aye" He went on belaying his injuries and assuming his position of command, though his speech was slower and he paused to draw a breath "Ye and Miss Smith ..a job well done, I can see by all what ye have brought here" Jenny was posessed of a mind to ignore his talking and see to the business of his care. But she thanked him for the praise. His face paled slightly as he shifted his weight making no effort to stand. "Sir, I must help you, shall I fetch the Doctor of the Watch Dog?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

He slowly shook his head at Miss Ashcombe.

“No… th’ Doctor has ‘er hands full wi’ th’ Master-ta-Arms… I’m but scratched n’ bruised in comparison… I would have you help me get my wesket off so I might put on something dry… and freshen up some ta meet wi’ Cap’n Brand…”

The Lucy’s Captain did all he could to remain stoic, to remain in that place that all captains are presumed to be. Yet in trying to stand again, he faltered, sharply drew in breath and cursed under it.

“I’ll need a bit of strong spirits, if you please… just to… take th’ edge off…”

Edited September 28, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill coughed and came to his senses. He sat up fully under his own power much to the amazement of the ship's doctor and those presently gathered. The movement caused a ball that had but scarcely made penetration drop free of his flesh.

"Aw Christ Almighty," croaked Bill," I jus' bought this vest."

Whispers were beginning to circulate amongst the crew that the Master-of-Arms was posessed by a demon. Flint slowly found his feet and two of the braver souls among the throng rushed in to help him.

"S'alright lads, I'm not shot below the waist" he muttered.

He nodded toward the surgeon "Madame I shall see you below" and he stumbled off to the surgery.

[Black Syren]

To see the look of men who felt they had nothing left to lose eye her as if she were the only thing that stood atween them and freedom was a startling thing. To say she was not afraid for her very life in that one moment of time would have been a vast understatement. Time seemed to slow, her vision seemed to tunnel focusing upon those grimy unknown faces before her, her ears seemed to ring blocking out any sounds or words that may or may not have been passed. She could feel a cold sweat break over her skin, could feel the droplets as they rolled over her skin. She could have cowed before them, her body wanted to but something even deeper within her urged her spine to stiffen, her chin to tilt and her blue green eyes to become cold. A smile curved her full lips as she all but dared them to come and as one began to move towards her she could see Alan and Manus also beginning to move. However their aid was not needed for at that very moment a nasty growl swept the shadowed interior and Argus pushed in front of her crouching and as he crouched fangs bared he promised deadly retribution.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of The Lucy

Captain Lasseter stood slowly, wavering before he fully gained his feet. He straightened, then winced sucking in his breath and Jenny grasped his shoulders as he dropped heavily back onto the bench. The sudden move nearly toppled her as she had stepped backwards and was forced to reach past her balance to assist him. Dorian asked for drink to brace him and as she turned to fetch it she noted a shudder overtake the captain.

Jenny paused in her step "Sah...you'll catch your De...." she stopped catching her breath at the expression so often used, which seemed a ghastly misstep given the Captains yet unseen injuries. She quickly recovered speaking determinedly "You MUST allow me sah" Miss Ashcombe went about removing the sopping wesket which was difficult at best as the wool clung to the linen still damp in spots beneath it. She tugged gently and he assisted her as best as able. It was a slow process and one that revealed darker stains on the linen beneath as the wool gave way grudgingly. Once his wesket was removed she hung it over the back of his chair commenting softly to herself "ces vêtements sont veulent dedans d'un foyer " He made a questioning noise and as she returned to inspecting his shirt she explained as she considered the best method of proceeding owing to the cloth being stuck in dark patches to minor wounds on his fore and upper arms. "Your clothes are in want of a hearth sir" He chuckled weakly which turned to a sharp sound as she pulled at the fabric finding it adhered quite well to his arm. Jenny went to the sideboard and brought the pitcher to where he sat. Pouring the water over certain areas she eased the fabric from where it stuck to his arms. When the sleeves were rolled up she brought him a large dram of whiskey and set the bottle nearby should he require more to ease the pain as she readied to tend the various wounds exposed.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As he looked at his arms, Dorian wondered what the rest of his body looked like. There were more scrapes and bruises than he remembered receiving in the fighting. Noting where Jenny set the whiskey, as she fetched some cloth he downed the dram and refilled the glass and drank only half of it, saving the other half for the moment. His back burned and was sore in places and he knew the shirt was stuck to those wounds there as well. Looking down at his legs, his stockings were stained with blood and had some tears in them.

“I look a damned ragamuffin… ripped n’ torn everywhere…”

Miss Ashcombe was back and took up an arm, wiping down his wounds, cleaning off dried blood. The Captain directed her on occasion, not wanting her to rub too deeply and open up freshly scabbed over cuts. Once his arms were dealt with, the arduous task of loosing his shirt from his wounded back was at hand. Again she poured small amounts of fresh water on the dried blood and slowly pulled the fabric away. The ball that had passed through and made holes in three garments and given Dorian a fine flesh wound. It had not actually gone into his back, but more skipped through it. Once the linen was free, he undid his belt and Jenny helped him pull the tails out of his slops. Dorian moved to pull off the shirt but stopped.

“Miss Ashcombe… I… need you to go into my chest, find a fresh shirt, slops, stockin’s…. I believe my older coat is hung near by… If you would… so I might…”

It was awkward as he had not had a Steward before, let alone a woman to help him with such things. Sensing his discomfort, Miss Ashcombe turned away to see to his needs. With a breath of relief, the Captain slowly and with effort pulled his shirt up over his head, removing his neckerchief at the same time, feeling the burning of the wounds fresh again.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Finding his sea chest locked, Jenny called back to the Captain to inquire about the key. He pulled it from the tangle of shirt and neckerchief where it had come from around his neck with all. He turned his back towards her and held the key out on its lanyard. As she reached for it Jenny was obliged to unavert her eyes and saw the damage to the flesh of his back. "Captain! please let me fetch the woman churgeon from below, you are greatly wounded." Jenny's voice was filled with concern at the tears in his flesh, mostly at the shoulder and the angry welt which connected the two places the ball had made contact. The flesh in these areas was bruising purple and yellow. "Nay Miss Ashcombe. Captain Brand expects me and I am bound to fulfill my duty as Captain and see to my crew foremost, assist me as before and see what we have to bandage tha worst for now.." Seeing the concern on her face mixed with he supposed womanly consternation he smiled "well shortly be gammed and I must make an appearance. " His Steward checked herself from further comment and carefully cleaned the wound wrapping linen bandaging from shoulder to ribs.

She opened the chest and therein amongst weaponry and the simple items of a sailor, much less than she expected a Captain would have under lock and key, she retrieved shirt, slops, stockings dark in color and lifted his older coat from it's peg where his hammock would be hung.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Once he had been bandaged snuggly, Dorian thanked Jenny and accepted the fresh clothing, carefully pulling the shirt over his head. Now covered, he bent down as best he could and pulled off his soggy shoes and began to untie the ribbands to remove his stockings. Again Jenny helped when prompted. The bandage was tight enough that he couldn’t quite manage removing his stockings, so she did so, revealing more wounds of the like on his arms. Those were taken care of in the same way and fresh stockings helped on and tied. Dorian took up the remaining half dram in the glass and finished it before unfolding his fresh slops. Another awkward pause stopped him for the moment.

“One more thing from my chest… I’ve a blackthorn walking stick in the lid… if you would, please…”

Jenny nodded and went, doing so slowly as she knew he might need the time to first remove and then don the fresh slops. He did so as quickly as could be, causing himself some minor grief. It took her a moment longer to remove the stick, as it was tied in place tightly amongst some two swords in the deep lid. The walking stick was light, yet felt solid in her hands as she turned slowly to the Captain. He was just buttoning the top of his slops and reaching for his belt as she took the handful of paces to him.

“Thank you kindly... “

He took the stick and stroked the handle a moment before setting it aside and putting his shoes back on. Lastly he took up his old coat, Jenny helping him slide it on carefully. He stopped a moment and looked her over, noting the stains and grime on her clothes.

“I beg yer pardon Miss Ashcombe… in all th’ hustle… were you at all injured in th’ action?”

Dorian looked downright embarrassed, not seeing if she was alright until now. She gave him a half smile.

“None so much as yourself, sah.”

Lasseter sighed and shook his head.

“Please, clean yerself up in here, an’ see the Surgeon if necessary. No questions, tis an order.”

The smile reappeared and she knuckled her brow. Dorian nodded to her, again looked over with concern. Sighing again as he heard the calls on deck that they would be soon lashed to the Frigate, he took up the walking stick and his hat. Testing his left knee, he used the stick to steady himself, gathered up his cutlass and belted it.

[Red Cat Jenny]

As the Captain left with the aid of his walking stick, Jenny watched him go. Holding herself back from assisting unless asked, she would give him the dignity he sought and not fuss after him as he moved stiffly towards and up the stair to the main deck. There he paused and without turning, thanked her again and again bade her assure him she would see herself to the churgeon if necessary. Captain Lasseter did not turn towards her, partly for the awkwardness of the past while and partly so she would not witness the tightness of his jaw as he clenched his teeth against the pain in his body for mounting the few stairs. The whiskey had worn thin and all the effort of dressing and arming himself ate at the recovery from fatigue gained while he'd sat as she worked stoically to mend him within the small light. Captain Lasseter straightened, took in a great breath and stepped back into the night now lit with lanterns and expectant faces as the familiar sight of the frigate Watch Dog loomed close to the Lucy's splintered rail. He nodded to those near him as he passed receiving proudly knuckled salutes.

Jenny stood where she had as he left, back to the table and listened to the calls as the two ships closed the remaining distance. She was tired beyond measure. She moved to the door securing the latch but re opened it shortly as there was little clean water left in the Captain's pitcher. She began to remove the dirtied basin and would return for the pitcher when young Liam Rowan passed by and she enlisted his assistance. She was glad to see the young powder monkey mostly unscathed and thanked him quickly knowing he was eager to be involved in the proceedings at hand. Jenny sat for a time before removing her own clothes and washing as best she could the dried blood of others now including her employer and the grime of the battle which seemed to cover her everywhere. She did not seek the Captain's glass hung where he normally saw to his toilette, having no desire to recall her reflection as it must be. Jenny longed for hot water and lavendar. The heat would wash the ache from her shoulder and soothe her skin which burned insistently at her side. But she made do with the basin and what linen remained. As she undressed Jenny saw that her side was indeed mostly spared from the splinters which came away from where they had been pricking her skin stuck instead in the fabric. Her side was red from the abrasion and there were a few slivers which had pierced the skin. They had bled some and she winced as she washed away what she could taking care to leave the one intact that was set too deeply for her to attempt alone. She wondered if the woman docteur was still below and how the small woman with delicate features and so much resolve tended to so many and if she was stll below she must be beyond exhaustion herself. She felt some guilt at having not returned to assist but her duties as Steward made the Captain her first responsibility.

Jenny stood wrapped in the woolen blanket from her cot and considered what to dress herself in from the meager choice before her. She felt too unclean for women's dress and the thought of petticoats, apron, and stays made her mind tired. "No, stays will not do with this wood in my side and my shoulder so... C'est Impossible" She dressed instead in the second pair of sailors clothes and sat in the chair. As she settled slowly her hip ached where she had struck the solidnes of the deck and the splinter pulled, but not as badly. She would seek the docteur, or even Mr. Marsh but her body felt heavy and the quiet around her beckoned her to close her eyes. The light had become quite low as the candle was nealry spent and Jenny slept fitfully until a rap at the door she'd latched brought her quickly to her feet. She bent awkwardly as her injuries reminded her of the recent battle and hastened to open it. Nigel Brisbane's lanky frame filled the doorway and he removed his hat relaying a request from Captain Lasseter for a munitions ledger to be brought to where the stores were now being recounted.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The consort ships closed and soon lines were thrown across and drawn tight, bringing them together closely. Not much could be done to the shattered side of the Lucy with the tow ships together, but it was not something that would be dealt with at the present. Once the lines were secured and sails dowsed, Captain Lasseter did his best to walk without a limp to the waist. There he met those officers who were available, namely Mister Brisbane and Tucker. The three of them would cross to the Watch Dog, leaving the Lucy in the care of the Master Gunner. Dorian addressed his officers informally.

“Nigel, Lucky Tuck… I see yer luck has held, look ta nary have a scratch on ye.”

Tucker turned a shade of red before mounting a protest.

“Sir, it weren’t fer tryin’, I was at m’ duty an…”

Lasseter smiled and waved away his protests, slowly shaking his head.

“Come lads, we’re ta see wot Cap’n Brand has a want t’ know… Though… I’m in want of a meal an’ a bed… hell of a fight, aye?”

“Aye, sah!”

With the ships secured and the sea in a relatively calm state, it was now time to climb up the tumblehome of the Watch Dog to her deck. Captain Lasseter stepped close and put a hand on her side, looked at his officers and gave a sniff. He drew in a sharp breath and quickly climbed up and over the rail, though it did cost him slightly. Both the Coxswain and Boatswain followed easy enough and were standing on the main deck of a familiar ship, one they had called home not so long ago, looking at the man who captained her.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe woke abruptly as her chin slipped again from her palm. She rubbed bleary eyes with the sore heels of her hands and reached her arms up and back to bring her hair away from her face. As she did the sliver of wood reminded her of it's presence once more. Wincing, she took up a fresh candle and descended to the makeshift surgery. Jenny shaded the flame and peered into the darkness finding Mr. Flint Bandaged and sleeping with the young woman almost in his lap, asleep where she had slumped between him and the rib of the hull. The Churgeon of the Watch Dog looked a wretch covered in blood and ruddy from the heat. Her damp and stained hair clung to her cheek and somehow even as such, she had a look of calm about her face. Jenny knelt beside Miss O'Treaisaigh and touched her shoulder. The woman woke with a start but Jenny placed a finger to her own lips and grasped both hands helping her to her feet. The docteur wavered and tripped on her skirts once as they stepped over and between undiscernable forms in the near darkness. She was reluctant to leave those so recently in her care, but Jenny kept at convincing her. The two spoke in hushed urgency until Maeve too tired to fight any longer gave in. Knowing the Steward was correct in that she was of no use to anyone without rest. Miss Ashcombe sent her first up the ladder and followed steadying her as they went. Once in the Ward room Jenny provided what comfort she could in the way of more bathing water and the loan of a chemise and helped scrub the evidence of so much horror from her hands and face. The two women worked in silence when at any other time they would have made pleasant conversation of new acquaintances. Jenny was amazed that Miss O' Treaisiagh had accomplished so much in the face of all that had happened. Despite the woman's slight build and delicate features, she felt the strength in the hands of the churgeon who had obviously toiled many hours with them. Leaving Maeve to finish with what water and clean cloth was left, Jenny laid out the chemise on her cot and left the docteur to head below once more. Taking great care to make no more sound than necessary, she boiled a small kettle and filled two clay vessels. Steeping tea leaves in each she placed them on a tray with a half cone of sugar wrapped in parchment and some bread and cheese which had been waiting for the mornings repast. She returned to find a grateful churgeon who managed some of the tea and a bit of cheese before falling asleep right before Jenny in the chair by her cot. She looked less a ghastly apparition now and Jenny laid the wool blanket across her sleeping form. She sat for a time upon her cot finishing the bread left. The heat of the tea soothed her fingers and the warmth of it her stomach. She watched the woman sleep and wondered how many would survive during the journey. She wondered whether Captain Lasseter would return soon or would be offered Captain Brands hospitality within his larger quarters. Shortly the need for rest overtook her as well and she slumped on the cot still dressed, cup clutched in hand. The ships cat brought about by the smell of cheese and the relatve quiet, came from it's hiding place and lapped from the cup but neither woman woke at the small rumble emanating from the cat.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Dorian heard movement and a cleared throat behind him. He turned to face several of the Lucy's crewmen lead by Jonas McCormick and Stephen Hudless. Captain Lasseter didn't like the looks of this at all, especially with these two instigators leading the fray. McCormick spoke first

"It's not natural Sah"

The Capitain raised an iquisitive eyebrow

"The Master-at-Arms sah" replied Hudless "Just rising up from the dead and walking away."

There was grumbled assent among the gathered men.

"We should not suffer such evil to walk amongst us" someone in the back offered.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian looked down from the deck of the Watch Dog at those men who had deigned to pick this moment to bother with superstitious and dangerous talk. He was beyond exhausted, and this display of near insubordination caused something to break inside of him. His calm had been disturbed by a farce. He leaned over the rail as close as he could so they could see the anger on his face.

“Damn the both of you. Damn you for thinking it your ‘duty’ to spread such vile an’ contemptuous shite! Wot, ye wanna take a man, one o’ yer own crew, an try him as if he were a witch? You think him possessed by Lucifer himself? Well now…. Wouldn’t that be just the thing, as yer aboard a ship given such a name ta glorify Old Scratch himself! If I hear any of this again, any bit of filth of this nature, I’ll have you both on the gratings! Do… I… Make… Myself… Clear…”

Captain Lasseter’s blood was boiling by the time he finished. Not a sound came from the deck of the Lucy. Hudless opened his mouth as if he might say something, but was elbowed in the ribs before he uttered a word. No one else dared to speak, which was actually a bad thing as Captain Lasseter was waiting for a response.

“God Damn You! I say, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!”

Every man assembled jumped and in concert knuckled their brows.

“Very good… Now get back to some work… Master Johnson! Give these men a job, if you please!”

The Master Gunner was forward some and nodded to Dorian.

“Aye cap’n, You lot! Get yer arses here, now!”

Under Dorian’s scowl the men moved off. The Captain turned back to the deck of the Watch Dog and calmed himself as best he could, straightened his coat and looked up to see several of the crew staring.

[William Brand]

William was standing not far off to his left, but Dorian noticed him last of all. Instead, Dorian gave those men of the frigate a look which was calm, but also daring. William walked forward with the same look fixed upon his own and the men were obliged to look suddenly busy. William almost asked what was wrong, but refrained. Instead he simply gestured to the Ward Room and the two of them fell aft.

Only when they were within the quiet privacy of the small room, did William look at Dorian with the question on his face as he gestured to a chair.