The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian sat slowly and removed his hat, tossing it on the table and smoothing back his hair. He looked at William, and at Nigel and Christopher before shaking his head.

“We’ve seen a miracle aboard the Lucy… I had thought Mister Flint dead, yet he lives. Can’t say I know how, but this has caused those troublemakers aboard ta stir things it seems. Sayin’ the man’s possessed by th’ devil… Good gods… It is odd, aye… but …”

Dorian was unable to hold it back, and he yawned a great, open-mouthed yawn the wracked his entire body.

[William Brand]

William had drawn out his own chair but simply stood, holding the high backed seat. He didn't say anything. He had thought that the argument at the rail had had something to do with the loss of the snow and he had a prepared apology for the zeal of his Master Gunner. This news was not overly surprising, as he had not known the full extent of Bill Flint's injuries. William had witnessed men pronounced dead rise again, obviously not so wounded as believed, but he was also no stranger to superstitious tongues.

"Well." he said finally. Then said it again, before sitting down.

"So struck down, but not wounded." Nigel offered, and it was both a question and a guess. Dorian made no reply to this, but accepted the glass that William passed to him.

A pause hung over the table for a moment and William decided that he would apologize in some form as planned. "Mister Youngblood's...vivacity caused an unfortunate end to the snow." This was an understatement of course, though no true blame could be laid at the feet of one bent to his duty. Still, the prize had been lost and William felt it should be said.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As luck would have it, Dorian had just taken a drink from his glass when William made his apology for the loss of the snow. At first all Dorian did was smile, which turned into a chuckle that slightly pained him. Coughing once put a stop to it, but a slight smile remained.

“Aye…”

He made to say more, but darker thoughts clouded his face and the smile waned. He cleared his throat and calmed himself yet again.

“In a certain respect… the loss of th’ snow is fortunate, for I have something… troubling… to tell of Master Whittingford… Whatever the case, let us get to what business we have, see what profit might be had and what to do with our prisoners and, more so, our Spanish friends.”

Reaching for his glass again, he paused and refrained from imbibing for the moment. The weariness returning to him threefold.

[William Brand]

As Dorian had both announced and dismissed the business touching Preston, William did not ask after the matter. Instead, they began the work of calculating and dispersing all that had been gained. They were not five minutes at this business when a knock came at the door and a marine ushered in one familiar to them and one not so familiar. Lieutenant Roldán Zubizarreta Rey Guerrero De la Cruz and Felipe Gasset.

"Lieutenant." William greeted.

"Captains. Sahs." De la Cruz returned, and introduced his companion of the Navarra. Felipe Gasset was of course his usual delightful self and clapped hands with any man that would do so.

"Please come in."

"I see that you are engaged." De la Cruz offered with a raised hand by way of formality and William formally waved this away.

"None of that. Just the business of the snow. Please." William finished gesturing toward a chair. Felipe Gasset sat down at once, but De la Cruz took a seat with none of his practiced grace. Indeed, despite the casualness and ease of his face, he was somewhat different than they had seen him before. Only once had William seen the conflict of his attitude, and then only at the mention of the late Captain Voulet or that ship of the same captain, Le Vedette. William tried to reassure the man that their presence there was not an interruption. "We are dividing those shares of the Whole Company." William explained, then added. "Some of your countrymen were brave enough to join in the fray and have therefore been given a portion of such shares."

This only seemed to make the Lieutenant less comfortable, and he opened his mouth once and then twice in false starts. Felipe Gasset only watched him do this in silence. William and Dorian exchanged a look and with the room entering into another unexplained pause, William asked, "Is something the matter, sir?"

Felipe Gasset made as if to speak in the Lieutenant's place, but De la Cruz raised a hand sightly and began. "It is of this very matter that I am sent to ask you 'What portion of the goods taken from the snow will be shared with the Navarra and her crew?'"

The pause that followed was greater than any that had come before. William blinked only once in a very long silence.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Between his fatigue and the incredulous question Dorian’s head was spinning. The words that came out of the Spaniard’s mouth played over in his head several times and each time it made even less sense to the Captain. He looked at De la Cruz and tried to focus on his face to see if he was in earnest. The man looked to be serious, and Dorian gathered his strength, holding himself in check before he lost hold of himself as he had with his men earlier.

[William Brand]

It was William's turn for false starts. He tried and failed to form a proper retort in his mind, for he was certain that if he opened his mouth then, nothing but vinegar would pour out. He managed one look in Dorian's direction, who looked to William as if he was of the same mind. "I beg your pardon, sah?," was all that William could manage at the last.

De la Cruz managed to keep himself neutral, though Gasset looked a little uncomfortable now. "My Capitaine has asked me to ask you 'What portion of those goods taken from the snow may he expect for he and his aboard His Most Catholic Majesty's ship, the Navarra?'"

"He and his...?" came Tudor's voice from across the room. She had just entered with a laden tray and looked as openly dumbfounded and cross as anyone in the room.

"That will do, Mistress Smith." William instructed, though he could hardly blame her for speaking out of turn. He was still facing the Lieutenant. "Perhaps you can explain to our good Steward, and to those lingering dead of our Whole Company who gave up their lives but a watch ago, how I might with clear conscience, pay out shares to those who waited rearward while me and mine stepped into the shadow of death?" William's voice had risen as the long question played out. He was not yelling at the end, but the harsh whisper of his voice had thinned to something like an edge.

The Lieutenant, servant to his Master's will, took this question well enough. De la Cruz was a soldier first and last, and not unaccustomed to taking orders that he would have not given himself. Of course, as he was the messenger of such orders he was also the very emobdiment of it, so he waited for an answer fitting his question.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

McCormick and Hudless knelt next to each other, the better that they may further conspire, as they'd had been giving the task by Mr. Johnson of scrubbing The Lucy's bloody deck clean.

"Fine lot o' good that did us." McCormick muttered

"Perhaps if your aim'd been truer." Stephen Hudless shot back

"I shot 'im three fekkin' times! 'More'd ye want?" Jonas countered

When Hudless didn't answer McCormick continued his rant

"How was I to know he had the strength of a bloody ox? I suppose I could've cut him down with a blunderbuss but that'd been a bit obvious don' ya think!?

Stephen shrugged "Well, now we must think of something else."

[William Brand]

They had risked all, and in doing so had sheltered the Navarra from harm. William, who had felt obligated to protect Capitán Eustaquio Alano Avendano and his men so recently, now felt just as enclined to flog the man about the deck. He imagined Avendano stripped naked and tripping about the frigate while beaten with the good doctor's bloodied apron. It was not perhaps the best mood to be in while escorting a Spanish ally to a Spanish port, so William composed himself.

"Perhaps if Capitán Avendano can show just cause that he and his played any more of a role in this business than prey, I would consider some recompense." It was not a 'no', but it was as close as William thought he might come to sending the Lieutenant away empty handed. "You may inform the Captain that I will honor my agreement with his men aboard the Lucy and Watch Dog who faithfully defended this ship, and by so doing, defended the Navarra. I will not withhold my gratitude to them. He may also retain that share of his mortality that God granted the lucky tonight."

"Amen to that." Nigel muttered.

The Lieutenant accepted this with a nod and the business passed back into his hands. William did not envy him the task of going to Avendano again, but he thought he might send someone with De la Cruz to balance the weight of the dispute. He sent for Durand.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Deck of the Lucy

Master Johnson hadn’t gone far after assigning those men who had troubled Captain Lasseter with foolish talk. He knew of men like this from times past. Men who found it necessary to cause some sort of division amongst a crew. The word had already been put out about Mister Hudless and the Master Gunner had witnessed the man leave his post on a forward gun during the battle to further compound what he thought of the sailor. There he knelt in congress with McCormick, speaking low and probably furthering the dangerous spread of whatever rumors he could.

“You there! Hudless, McCormick! Ye find something ye need ta talk about? Lets hear it!”

The two shrunk back and remained silent.

“No? That bein’ th’ case, ye best part ways an’ not let me hear ye mumblin’! McCormick, Shift yer arse ta starboard n’ you stay where ya be, Hudless!”

The conspirators shot a glance at each other before following orders and McCormick picked up his bucket and headed across the waist, kneeling in the sand and blood covering the deck there.

Johnson crossed his arms and kept watch over the deck, mostly shifting his hard stare at the two men he had separated. It was just a matter of time before the cat would see daylight, and God have mercy on the fool who would feel it’s bite.

[William Brand]

It took some time for Durand to arrive, as he required some time to wash and clothe himself from that work aboard the Lucy. He arrived looking clean, if not refreshed. He was offered a drink at once and William knew he would not refuse it. The first glass disappeared at once as did half of the second before Durand focused on the matter at hand. William asked the Lieutenant to explain Avendano's request a third time and watched Durand as he did so, but Durand's face never changed. When the Lieutenant was done speaking, Durand simply nodded and stated that he would put the matter aright. He and the two officers of the Navarra went out as easily as they had entered.

"To have an ear at that door..." Nigel said with a bemused smile.

"Aye." The rest of them returned and they went again to the business of dividing the snow's remains.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Though the men were weary, the task of dividing the spoils needed to be done. Soon it was all on the books and hopes were it would bring a tidy profit. Dorian put the heel of his palm into his eye and rubbed it.

“It would a been more had we been able ta get all th’ great guns off, but no matter… I believe my lads cleaned ‘er of all the swivels… could use ‘em fer anchors we got so many now…”

Those in the cabin chuckled at his comment wearily. Sitting back, Captain Lasseter winced when his shoulder blade contacted the chair back.

“When next we find battle, you get ta board, William… I’d like ta sit one out fer a time…”

[William Brand]

With the Lieutenant gone, William joked openly about selling the Navarra, but admitted that there would be few ports left to them if they were to anger the French and Spanish both. William remarked that he would simply return to Egypt and be glad of date palm and a well. This led to conversations of Nigel's favorite haunts and Dorian's chosen parts of Ireland, which only he could pronounce well. Then Tudor was serving them enough fair to awaken their tired frames to hunger and then send them to bed again. With that, William sent out all of them but Dorian.

"I am certain that I do not wish to know, but tell me just the same. What was it you wouldn't say about your Ship's Master before?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

When the conversation turned serious again, Dorian became somber. He sat straighter than he had earlier, though you could see the strain of the nights’ events on his face. He looked atWilliam, and his eyes did not waver but held a sharpness and a seriousness in them. William tapped his fingers lightly on the table for a moment before Captain Lasseter stood slowly. He turned from the table and ever so slowly paced one circuit around the Wardroom with a limp. When he reached his chair again, Dorian placed both hands on the back of it and stood for a moment quietly before finally breaching the silence. With an even voice kept low he told the tale about Master Whittingford that he had been told by his marines. What they had seen and how they had found him. He then told William that by his orders Preston had been bound and placed under watch by those men so know one else might learn of what had happened. As Dorian finished his tale he moved to sit and did so heavily. He stared at William trying to gauge what his reaction would be and slowly shook his head.

Edited October 19, 2009 by Dorian Lasseter

[William Brand]

William only nodded at first, for the information answered his earlier questions regarding the many dead aboard the snow and the blood in the water. His mind turned to another time and place, then. A time when there had been sharks, but never among his own. He said nothing, but his face changed some three times from anger to bafflement and then back to anger. Finally he shook his head side to side but once and sucked a little air through his teeth. Then he brushed one hand slowly across his brow.

When he could find no question that would make him feel better about the news, he simply asked, "Was this act but a...temporary madness?"

Dorian could not answer this of course, being as equally baffled about the deed himself. He shrugged with his face and shoulders. "I've not known th' like from 'im."

William was back to anger then. Not so much so at the deed, but that the deed positioned him to sit in judgment over one so high. He was angry that it was one he would never have questioned before. Had it been anyone else, he would have rushed from the ward room, the door left wide, and gone over to the Lucy to thrash the sailor with words and any object within reach. William left the table then. He walked to two opposite corners in long strides. He resisted the urge to throw the decanter from the table, as much as he wanted to. The thought of Tudor kneeling among its remains and plucking up the shards was the only thing that kept him from doing so.

"They'll lay this at MY feet!" he said to the whole of the Universe as much as to Dorian. Then he frowned, smiled and frowned again. It was horrible enough to be funny in some way and he almost laughed, but shook his head instead. Then he sighed a little and resigned himself to one more bloody footnote in the book already being written about him in the minds of too many strangers to count. He looked out the stern windows. "He'll need watching, if he cannot answer for himself."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter shot a look at his senior, friend, and man he would call brother. After a moment he laughed harshly.

“Lay this? At your feet? Nay… Lay this at ‘our’ feet… Twas I who crossed that deck and held that pompous bastard of an officer at th’ end o’ my pistol, and my man who did evil b’lowdecks… We, not you, are ta be called devils for wot has been done… Damn you ta think you shoulder this alone… Wot Preston did… Wot in God’s name in Heaven possessed him… “

He stood at a loss for words, his jaw working from a snarl to a grimace and many other forms of expression to count. Finally he gritted his teeth and shut his eyes and hissed out his breath.

“We’ll see this through, William… Aye… We’ll see this through to th’ bitter… the bitter end…”

[William Brand]

"That's an ill phrase." William said and smiled a little. "An ill phrase. Bitter end..." He shoock his head at Dorian for using such words as that, but it did not stop him from refreshing the man's glass. He pondered on Preston's fit and Avendano's request as if all bad news were now married together. Then he divorced himself from such thoughts and the things he could not change for the present. The conversation turned to the matter of the Lucifer and the many damages there. William was anxious to be on his way, for the Navarra's weighty matters and the ever threatening presence of English on the water pressed him to be at Trinidad. "We cannot afford a second engagement again too soon."

"Aye." Dorian agreed, having so many wounded aboard a wounded ship.

"We'll discuss Preston again."

"Aye."

They ended their business, but not before William refreshed a bandage on Dorian's arm which had taken on the stain of the injury it concealed. William did this without permission and Dorian accepted it without question. It was simply the quiet obligation of two fellow soldiers. With this accomplished they went out together, with William pausing only once to look in on his wounded at the surgery. Finding Briar and most of her patients asleep, he closed the door again and made his way forward. They were greeted by the noise of orders, mallets and the traffic of repairs. The Lucy was now almost as well lit from the coming day as she was by the many lanterns brought up to illuminate her hurts. The night was accomplished and William had no idea of the hour, but the sun would be up soon.

"I will wait upon your word." William said, for they would not quit the place until the Lucy were well enough to travel. Then they were Captains again and each looked to his own.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Walking slowly yet deliberately, Dorian crossed to the rail and took more time than he would have liked to climb down to the deck of his ship. Once there he surveyed his wooden world and smiled. It was a tired smile, but an appreciative one. Much had been accomplished in the short time he was in closed chambers with William. Misters Brisbane and Tucker had returned to the Lucy beforehand and now reported to their captain that the hull was sound and her rigging repaired. The inner Sprit sail had been holed several times, so her spare was rigged and some of the crew were patching the holed sail. Two of the Larboard gun carriages were in need of attention, but Master Johnson believed they could wait for repair at a later time. Dorian nodded to all that was said and smiled again, nodded and said no more than ‘Carry on, lads.’ Before heading below to check on his wounded.

[William Brand]

William and Jim discussed many things together and William did not keep the information concerning Mister Whittingford from him, but this was only one of many things upon which they conversed. They spoke of prisoners and goods almost as if discussing the same thing, because both were but weight for the present. This subject turned to the cannon lost, and with the light of day coming on, the sea was scanned near and far for any sign of those barrels employed to mark the sunken guns.

"Sorry, sah! No sign!" Ciaran called from aloft, for the sea proved too deep for the lines which had been lashed to the guns of the snow. No other cannon but those two taken in haste would ever be recovered from the lost ship, though their swivels were now many.

With all of this accomplished William retired. He left the movement of the 'Dog in Jim's most capable hands, for William could not keep from yawning again and again until his jaw popped a little. He went to his hammock as one so tired that he could not sleep at first, but pondered on the long and eventful night, til at the last he slipped away.

He dreamt of garden spot in Mut that his waking mind had all but forgotten and it was a good dream.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the captain of the Lucy found his way into the berth-space and hold that was serving as a sick bay. He walked around to all those wounded to see what might be done. Jeffrey Elijah was half laying against the bulkhead cradling his head, a bandage wrapped around his face where his right eye once was. Patrick Godfrey had taken several splinters to his right arm which was now bandaged, some blood soaked through. James Whiting and Loren Brant were laid up, leaving two less marines on duty. Next he came to those who were in worse shape, Master Flint lay on his back, breathing well but quite comatose, his body covered in bandages. Nicholas Trodd lay feverish, having taken splinters and shrapnel in his left side. Thomas Ried was also fevered, having lost his lower right leg to shot. As he approached Brenton Coles, Dorian knew… He’d seen death shipboard before and here it was fresh. The man had been stabbed in the throat and it had been his undoing. He lay, eyes glassy and mouth slack with a string of bloody spittle trailing out of the corner of his mouth and onto his shirt. Without a word, captain Lasseter headed topside and pulled Nigel aside to have some men quietly have Coles brought on deck to be prepared for burial with the others. Nigel nodded and headed to gather some men. With a weary sigh, Dorian headed aft, but not to his quarters. Instead he headed to the Masters cabin to find him asleep, still bound in his hammock. Turning to those he left to guard him, he spoke softly.

“I must ask you to keep guard over him until I say otherwise… When he wakes, untie him… he’ll be free ta move about, but not outta yer sight, understand? And no arms, period…”

Both men knuckled their brows resignedly.

“Extra spirits when I release ye from this duty, aye?”

They smiled some and Dorian nodded, clapping each on the shoulder before turning to leave. His knee ached now but he continued to work it with help from his walking stick until he arrived at the door to the wardroom where Mister Tucker caught up with him.

“Cap’n, sah… Enough repairs have been made fer us ta be under weigh, sah. Wot’er yer orders, sah?”

“Aye… You n’ Mister Brisbane get us under weigh, pass word to th’ Watch Dog, We’ll fall aft and let her take th’ lead if you please. I’ll be on deck in due course…”

“Aye-aye, sah!”

Once Tucker was gone, Lasseter leaned against the door and rubbed his face with one hand. He stood there for a good five minutes before pushing himself back on his feet and slowly heading back into the morning light.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Dorian found Nathaniel Brocke at his elbow.

"Sah. I've sumthin' ta report regardin' Mister Flint sah"

"Go on lad" the captain urged him.

"Well sah, the lady docta, she says she musta cut at least twelve balls from him, and well.....she says he were shot in the back three of 'em"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate through his weariness. Brocke was rightly concerned, but what he reported did not seem so urgent or worth reporting in such a way.

“Aye… he were quite shot up indeed… front, back, all about his person… Did a fine job and was quite in harm’s way…”

Nathaniel stood with a confused look on his face, as if what he had told the captain was perfectly clear. Dorian sighed with exasperation.

“A’right… Out with it man… Don’t mince words, I’m too tired fer vagueness…”

He stood and looked at the man, dead in the eyes, waiting for him to speak.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Brocke stood dumbfounded

"Sah, we swept the enemy afore us as we took the deck, do ye not see? When Mister Flint were shot no man of the snow would have been positioned to fire on his back!"

[Black Syren]

The ship continued to rock to and fro seeming more rough now than before and so she spread her feet to keep her balance and felt Argus sit upon her foot. She was tired and she could tell that Alan and Manus were as well, but it was the men they were holding that stirred compassion in her breast. They were a small bedraggled lot, streaked with blood and grime and yet their eyes still held a boldness, a pride.

She watched as a sandy haired man rubbed at his stomach and looked to Alan and Manus before moving back enough to catch a passing lads attention. “Bring leftovers and a bucket of water will ye lad.” She asked tiredly not even bothering to try and remember the lads name. It did not matter in that moment for he was soon gone and later returning carrying a bucket of slop and a half full bucket of water. She gestured for him to place the buckets nearby then waved him off and watched him flee the room as if the devil whispered in his ear.

“If you are hungry or thirsty you may have what is left in these twin buckets. If not ..” She shrugged and braced her feet once more, Argus once more sitting upon her foot.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Lucy

“Temper yerself Mister Brocke… Was quite a battle on that deck, I found m’self on all points of the compass during the fight. If you mean ta say he might’ve been shot by our own men… purposely… That raises grave issues… I did not see him take th colours, and he would have had his back quite exposed at that time. Who’s to say he wasn’t shot by any number of the snow’s crew? I’ll have words wi’ th’ Surgeon when I can about this…”

Brocke made to interject, but Dorian held up his hand.

“You have made your point Nathaniel… I will take it into consideration. If… If we do find we have more trouble… It shall be dealt with swiftly… Keep an ear pen fer talk amongst th’ men… Once we get back ta some plain sailing, I’ll address th’ officers an’ see wot we can sort out. Carry on Master Brocke…”

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy, confined to quarters

Preston finally awoke upon hearing Dorian's voice outside the cabin. He stirred within the hammock and found he was still duly bound. He moved about as best he could but the canvas wrapped around him burned across the wound on his forearm causing him to wince uncomfortably.

"GODDAMNIT", Preston swore aloud. "Dorian? Who's there?" called the ship's master.

Johan Stadtmeyer and Robert Jameson stood outside the door and looked at each other uncomfortably. "Who's t' tell 'im no arms?," whispered Robert.

"Not I," said Johan sheepishly.