The Watch Dog

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Not knowing how to respond to any of this - not knowing what brought on such a conversation, Tudor stood silent for a moment after the quatermaster left the ward room. But then, the only answer surfaced in her head. A motto learned so long ago. "Fidelis largior idoneus dux ducis solus." She whispered to herself, then turned to face the captain. "Sir, I would not be here if I was not ready to face death be it by plauge, battle or noose. Do not think that my loyalty is so easily given that it would sway with the threat of the gallows. And do not think that any discontent comes from feeling a lack of respect, but from a desire to prove myself worthy of the respect and position that I have already been given." She paused again, then recollected the pile of dishes. "Shall I go prepare, sir?" She waited for his final order before leaving.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Raphael watched after their departure then moved to the cabinet that held clothing not packed away in heavy sea chest. Searching through what was to be seen, he paused to look at the uniforms set aside not overlong ago. Adornments not suited to current demands, there was a small pang of longing that rang his soul at their reveal. Re centering to needs at hand, he removed the heavy legnth of frock suited to current elements along with a pair of high oiled boots hidding in closet floor. Unlocking chest that waited against far wall, dry clothing was obtained and a smaller chest removed. A second key was produced, the lock released, two pistols were drawn into the meager light.

Redressed and weapons placed into newest local to await service, the bland hued coat was adorned along with well used chapeau, its' brim and crown still damp from the preceeding night. A small flask was concealed within inner pocket and the Sphinx stepped out of private chamber. Gaining the upper decks, he waited patiently for what lay ahead in Fate's agenda....

[William Brand]

William smiled a slow smile. It was the quiet smile that crossed his face when he had much to say, but he said nothing. Instead, he gathered up his heavy coat and hat and turned to her again.

"We have spoken our peace and have nothing more to prove to one another. Let us be about our business." he said as he opened the door and stood aside for her. She went out and he followed her forward to the waist of the gundeck.

[Pew]

::Standing amidships, I waited for the Captain's steward to join us. After making sure each man had eaten their fill, I had them gather the gear needed for the day's journey. Maurice was sent below to gather several bottles of fresh water and rum, accompanied by a small sack of hard tack biscuits. With a dull thud you could hear the smaller boats being lowered over the side and gently bumping against the hull of the Watch Dog. All of the men had been assembled and were standing tall in the waist awaiting orders to board their craft to set off towards the islands. As Eric and Ajayi held fast the ropes lowering the craft, the Captain arrived on deck.::

[William Brand]

Both parties assembled amidships, and though it rained as hard as it ever had, the sun was glancing across the decks from the East. The sheets of rain looked like curtians of light and the whole company on deck appeared as a convocation of clergymen, milling about in dark robes about the deck.

William went immediately to Mister Pew, who confirmed that all was nearly ready. The longboat gently splashed into the water and the lines went slack. Ajayi came over to the two officers and thumped Mister Pew hard on the chest with the back of his hand, a gesture of respect that took getting used to. Mister Pew was rocked a little on his feet by the act and smiled despite himself.

"Sadikie", Ajayi said resolutely, and William was surprised to hear clear Arabic come out of the man who had seemed hesitant with it before.

"Sadikie?" William returned, gesturing to the Master-at-Arms.

Ajayi nodded and thumped Mister Pew a second time.

"Steady on there." Mister Pew said, unused to being thumped in such a manner. He straightened his hat which had shifted. "What's 'e on about, Sah?"

"Kaif takool thalik bil Alingli'zia?" Ajayi inquired, and William's smile spread wide. It had been so long since he had conversed in the language of his adolescence that he hesitated, hoping Ajayi would ask again, but the large man simply waited.

"He called you 'friend', Mister Pew. He wants to know how to say it in English."

[Pew]

"Ah. 'ad me worried for a bit there..."

Turning to Ajayi I put out my hand in the form of a handshake. He looked at it and then grasped mine with the strength of 10 men. In a shallow voice, I try to grimace through the pain and stammer..."Fer-end". Ajayi pounds his chest once more and repeats..."Fer-end".

"Can I 'ave me 'and back now mate?" Several of the crew began to laugh and Ajayi let go and did the same. He let go a belly laugh loud enough to rival the 12pdrs. Never had we seen such emotion coming from the giant nubian.

[William Brand]

William was moved to words he hadn't used in a very long time and after a slow start, he and Ajayi were conversing. Much of what passed between them was broken, for William's arabic was a half forgotten memory, and Ajayi seemed reticent to use too much of it. William tried to translate openly what he could follow to the benefit of all about him.

"He is Yoruban." This of course, was a discovery they had made before, but it was again confirmed. "He has been a captive once before..."

William noted that Ajayi did not use the word 'slave' for a proud man would never think himself more than a temporary captive and William understood this well.

"He was taken into...BaniGhazi by arabs and this is where he learned their language."

"Bani...Bani..." Mister Pew attempted.

"BaniGhazi." William repeated, and thought about it for a long time. Many cities in the Near East had similar sounding names, so he wasn't sure about the location at first. "I believe BaniGhazi is in Lybia. It is Hamadan country. Or maybe Hashed."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian watched as the exchange betwixt the large, moorish fellow and Mr. Pew, with the Captain acting as transelator. He understood not a word spoken by Ajayi, but new it was not the mans native tongue. He had been to the slave coast of Africa, a memory that had been resurected by the conversation in the wardroom not long ago. When He and Mr. Pew grasped hands and called each other friend, Dorian chuckled, then laughed loudly at the scene that followed. Once the laughter from all had calmed, Willaim and Ajayi had a conversation that was revealed to be in arabic. He quietly listened to the conversation and transelations, shifting his gaze from the Captain to Ajayi several times. He nodded thoughtfully when Lybia was mentioned, as he had seen it from the cross trees of the blackbirder he spent eight months of his life on.... Eight nightmareish months. He shuddered briefly as he pushed the images from his mind.

[William Brand]

Mister Lasseter had already brought the Watch Dog to life at the turn of the watch some two hours before and the rocky outcroppings of Los Hermanos were now looming ahead of them.

William was about to cut the conversation short when he remembered a few vital words that would benefit Ajayi. This proved to be unnecessary, for the man already had a grasp of larboard, starboard, fore, aft, and half a dozen other terms. These he had learned from careful observation on the Warrington Hart and on the Watch Dog. Satisfied that he understood each word's full meaning, William ordered the boat crews to the boats.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Aye-aye, cap'n... Mr. Warren, see to it that all is well with th' Patricia, I shall join you in the sternsheets momentarily.... Mr. Pew... I wish you much joy on your venture, tis a pity we have not clearer weather... Cap'n...."

He paused a moment then spoke ina very low voice,

"I pray we have not been told the lie concernin' what treasure we be after... I do believe I c'n keep wot hands I take wi' me in a goode mind, but as fer all the lads... I ain't so sure... "

He stood tall and put on a show as if he said something bawdy to the captain in confidence, Saluted his most formal salute and turned to head over the side and down into the Cutter...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Raphael observed interchanges and the jostling process of launch filling from puenumbra of wide brim. The length of oil treated coat did well to conceal as well as protect its secrets enshrouded. As the procession progressed over the side he hung back in order to decern which party was to be in Quatermaster's company. The forward motion seemed achingly slow as the skies above continued to mock all exposed to elemental whims.

Nearing William's proximity, the well used hat was removed, crisp salute was offered in respect and acknowledgement. Formalities laid to rest, he continued over the side with fluid motion and sure step to the awaiting cutter below.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem~ Approx. 14 degrees N 48 min. / 64 degrees W 13 min.

Capitaine Jean-Micheal Fournier gave closed eyed approval to the sampling of orange glazed ham. Once again, as in many times in the past, he was thankful for the culinary skills of the Galley. The near miss of gale from night past was no more an afterthought than the heavy froth trailing behind from the corvette's stern. From the opened stern glass, the sound of wayward albatross cryed to those who would give note. The large seabird had been acting as secondary escort for the past two turns of the glass causing a stir amongst French companies with ariel acrobatic feats. There were murmurs drifting across upper decks of superstitious nature to the avian's presence; wordings that made some uncomfortable, wordings that others dismissed as rediculous tounge wagging.

The Capitain paused in savor of pork born delight, glancing to the three other men at table's edge. Chirurgien Dupris appeared completely content with offering afore him and his place in the Universe; the young Comte seemed haunted and drawn in the clear morning light, factors that were having a negative effect upon appetite. Fournier's brow furrowed slightly as his focus centered on kindred cousin. Lamaire's ghosts from evening before were evident, but Jean-Micheal credited such things to vin et Piquet.

Passage had been uneventful, all in all. Even with consort's slower progress, good time was being made and destination was estimated to be achieved on schedeule. A day's stop over was in contemplation for Marie Gallante before moving on to La Desirade, but he would allow that finale decision to fall on the Comte'. It was not a neccessary stop, but Fournier knew that the men under his command were partial to the island...and its' offering of local "fare". Though stern in rule, the Capitaine made great effort to keep the corvette's company in a state of happy satisfaction; such offerings made life aboard far more manageable overall.

Avian companion shrilled while swooping around sternscreen expanse as a doomsayer making announcement to annointed occupants of Great Cabin. Armand's attention cut to the panorama to glimpes fleet of white and gray, Lamaire's eyes narrowed to the pitch; Dupris continued consumption unphased to interruption...But deep in Fournier's intuition, red flags went up and the next cry that broke morning's peace came as no suprise.

Far above, in lofty heigths of booms, rigging and sway, Sabastian St. Clair noticed annomolie to horizon. Changing his position to offer better view, gray-blue eyes focused intently from dark and weathered features. Confirmation achieved, the topman drew deeply the salt tinged air and called with clarion manner to those below in urgency...

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin was aware of movement in the ward before she was awake but she was so enjoying the comfort of the cot she continued to lie there in a twilight rest. She let the sounds of human life wrap around her. Nearby Lady Ana's steady deep breathing could be heard, still deep asleep. Someone moved quietly around the ward, the surgeon and her mate she guessed, perhaps a few others. She would have to rouse herself soon. Her thoughts started to wander when the surgeon’s mate roused her. His thick French accent like music gently brought her to the daylight. Murin blinked, rubbed her eyes with her right hand then stretched every muscle in her well rested body. “Mornin” she smiled at the man who had cared for the night before. She felt safe in the care of the stoic man who had shown her so much kindness since her arrival. She lowered her legs over the side of the cot and sat up.

Chanault had just offered some of the morning fare from the galley when Mr. Lasseter entered the ward with a seaman that appeared disheveled, pale and weak, perspiration beading on his forehead. The surgeon tended to the seaman while Chanault directed Murin to her morning meal. Murin was lifting the mug of hot brown liquid to her mouth when Mr. Lasseter spoke of being a man short and queried the surgeons mate for assistance with the hazards of the Island. Murin looked on enjoying the bite of the hot liquid, wondering if it was the small islet that she was just plucked from that they spoke of. She could tell them, there was not much there!. As the surgeon excused herself, her mate and the quartermaster Murin began to focus on her meal, and her future. She ate absentmindedly as she pondered. What would she do now that she had choices? What choices did she have? Where and when would they be in port and would it be some place that she could safely stay? Perhaps they could use an extra set of hands on board the… her mind stopped short as she tried to recall the name of the ship she was on. She had heard it just yesterday but was drawing a blank. She ran through the conversation on the shore in the rain with the quartermaster …the Watch Dog …the bloody Watch Dog, so easy to remember. She chuckled to herself as the surgeon and the Quartermaster passed through the ward again. Busy ship, surly she would be able to help in some way until they made port someplace.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill was just finishing his pipe, when the landing party assembled on the deck. He noticed Chanault amongst them and decided instantly to inquire if the Surgeon would need a replacment assistant temporarily. Not that Bill thought her at all incapable of running the infirmary single-handedly, it was just the right thing to do. Heading below decks he poked his head through the surgery door.

"Le bon matin mon ami. Je ne pourrais pas aider mais pourrais remarquer que Raphael prend le partir de nous temporairement si j'ai pensé j'offrirais de servir dans sa place jusqu'à ce qu'il retourne. "

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

So intense lay her focus that the normal protest of hinge brought not a shake of concentration to scribed text. The flow of native tongue startled her from purusal of heavy tome, and for a second time that day, Jacquelyn cursed her growing comfort to surroundings. Compossing herself, the pixieish features offered expression of warm smile and she stood to receive the Marin.

" Bonjour, Monsuier Flint et faire bon accueil. " She noted the hint of puzzlement gracing the faces of the others within the Surgery and chuckled. " You never fail to impress me with your mastery of my language, sir...Tres bien!" She returned to former seating, waving him to a nearby stool.

"Monsieur Chanault's departure was a rather unplanned event and I must say that I am suprised that you are not amongst the numbers headed ashore. Never the less, if you have a desire to bide your time here than you are most welcome to do so and your aid will be appreciated. There is not overmuch to tend to, the ladies are in prime condition in comparison to when brought aboard."

She gave an incline of chin indicating a particular cot, " Our Mister Mooney seems to have come down with a mild fever...More than likely from exposure to the elements of late and dear Nathan is so much improved and in the highest of spirits!" A smile of satisfaction puncuated her finale observation.

"I am in great hopes that the weather will clear fully, for I noticed that the sun is striving to gain reign in the heavens as we speak. If Monsieur Soleil can establish his throne, I would like to take Nathan above for enjoyment of fresh air, a welcome change of surround I am sure..."

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Off the coast of Los Hermanos

Just prior to seven bells of the Forenoon Watch

The boats moved away from the Watch Dog's wake. The Master-at-Arm's party travelled North and East of the Watch Dog as the light frigate rolled away to the South to shadow the cutter, which made good speed under the ministrations of the Quartermaster and Coxswain.

The rain soon made the longboat party all but a blur against a sea and sky of one color. It tossed a bit in the chop off of Los Hermanos as it faded against the grey backdrop.

William watched it until watching it was vain, then he turned his attention to the cutter as it sped along under its own sail. It bobbed ahead without trouble, despite the heavy deluge. Mister Warren and Mister Lasseter kept it along a course that would bring them to the Southern most parts of Los Hermanos and along a line that would endanger the small craft the least.

As the are described by the Ilex woman loomed, William began to send orders down from the quarterdeck to slow or alter the Watch Dog's course with minute adjustments. Mister Lasseter, commanding the cutter, was watching these alterations and adjusting the craft's course to prevent overshooting the spot. Both boats shadowed one another as the slid along the shoreline.

The sun tried numerous times to break up the grey throughout the morning and failed. The result was an occasional bombardment of sunlight in long shafts through the gloom. More than once, the bright sail of the longboat caught the light, causing it to look more threatened then it really was, surrounded by so much dark water.

Mister Youngblood kept the gun deck all the while, moving about the deck in his heavy weather gear and occasional biting the stem of his unlit pipe. The decks were awash with water and he was continuously reminding the men about the need to protect all of the guns at all times. A steady wind had threatened the great guns all morning, pulling tarps off the barrels as they went along, so he was forced to bark out his share of lively reminders. He even had a runner going every quarter of an hour down to the powder stores to check for leaks or water damage.

It seemed as though hours passed in this fashion, though barely an hour had slipped by.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin finished her meal and her musings and began to look around the ward. She rose to her feet taking the mug of coffee with her and headed to a closed port hole. Once there she unlatched it and pushed outward. Sheets of droplets falling fast in the morning sunlight, where was all of this when she was parched and blistered a week ago on that speck of sand and cacti! Again, she smiled at the sun and the rain. The splash of a boat to the water was heard. They were indeed launching to explore some Island but not her island. They sat beside a larger island now. She smiled again. The cares of daily life reduced, for a time, to more than foraging for her next meal.

Murin let the window close and latched it again. Although she knew there were others in the ward the soft but gruff sound of the lad's voice startled her., "Still raining." She jumped and then chuckled as she turned "Aye, tis good dis rain, refreshin." She said with a soft smile on her still chapped lips. "Yer d'lad thet was here when we were brought aboard aren't ya?"

"Aye"

Her eyes found the ground and her nearly empty mug. An awkward silence fell over the room. Ana's breathing remained deep and steady. The other lad that Mr. Lasseter brought in rested uneasily. Murin sipped the mug again. The lad stood and stepped toward Murin holding his hand out to the lass. "Nathan Bly"

She advanced to meet the mans hand shake holding her hand out also' "Meer-een Mickdawnna" Murin McDonough She had seen many a seaman in her life, this one, though young, was a seasoned sailor. The two exchanged hushed greetings and in short turn were sitting in the ward exchanging tales of their survival before their arrival on the Watch Dog.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

The hint of canvas sail reflected in morning sun was scrutinized by way of 'glass extension. Fournier made no comment, his expression tauntly set. Whatever She was, the vessel was still too far away to judge Her nature and in these waters one could not afford assumptions of friend or foe. He turned from stern rail, facing his courtiers and centering his attention to consort brigantine.

If Requiem were his only concern, mayhaps the unknowns would not disturb his senses quite as much. But, responsibilities beyond corvette's well-being put a different slant on the situation. In a calm manner, Jean-Micheal requested current coordinants which confirmed what he already assumed. They were still positioned too far away from Martinique in order to expect re-enforcements of kindred kind and the islands not seen to the East were perdominantly English. With cousin England not in the best of terms with Mother France, Fournier weighed his options carefully.

"Monsieur Durand."

The Officer of the Watch responded crisply, "Oui, Capitaine?"

Fournier made note of weather and wind conditions briefly before continueing, " Signal Voyage Joyeux, inform her to adjust bearing two degrees to the West and set full sail, s'il vous plait. Inform them that we shall resume their company in the near future."

Formal salute was given in acknowledgment, "Oui, Capitaine!"

Jean-Micheal watched as Second Lieutenant hurried forward to see thru instructions issued, then turned his attention to other awaiting officers. The fleet expression of concern did not go unnoticed by First Lieutenant Lamaire who, perhaps, knew his cousin's thinking almost better than Fournier did himself.

"We shall stand?" The verbose more statement than query.

"If necessary..." Was Fournier's reply as he turned back to former stance, extending the 'glass once again.

[Pew]

On board the longboat "St. Christopher"

As the men strained to pull at the oars the rain continued to downpour. Maurice asked if he should start to bail should we be at sea for much longer. The crew on board the longboat laughed and continued to row towards "The Brothers". Standing in the stern at the tiller, I tried the crest the small waves at an angle so as to keep the rocking and pitching of the craft to a minimum. Finally, we decided that Ajayi, with his strength, had actually begun to pull us more towards larboard than I could steer. Placing Ajayi in the sternmost oar and Harold Press's large frame opposite, and Maurice and Owen opposite as well, there was less need to keep my hand on the tiller than before. Cut-throat stayed at the bow of the 21 foot longboat with his hand on "Castor" one of our 2 half pound swivel guns, keeping a trained eye upon the shoreline.

I turned to see the Watch Dog begin to fade out of sight as the isle loomed nearer in the grey day. Ajayi began to hum as each oar dipped the water with growing rhythm. The captain's steward continued to remain quiet even as Owen and Harold argued about who was the stronger rower. Cut-throat turned occasionally to laugh and shake his head and look at me as I did the same.

As Owen and Harold continued to bicker, there was a dull thud against the hull of the "St. Christopher"

"Stand fast!!" I yelled above those two. Ajayi quieted as well.

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Off the coast of Los Hermanos

Seven bells of the Forenoon Watch

The cutter made its way along the surf, sometimes slowing, sometimes racing away, and the Watch Dog's speed was reined in as the evidence of reefs showed in the white caps of disturbed waves.

Orders went down from the quarterdeck for the leadlines and the crew was sent along the rail for soundings. Overhead, the watches kept a wary eye for debris and obstructions in the water.

The wind was not favorable off of the islands, and after a time, William was forced to draw the Watch Dog further offshore than he had hoped to. This left the cutter to fend for itself. William employed a speaking horn to yell out final details and instructions to Mister Lasseter across the water. He was forced to repeat himself many times before he could be sure that the Quartermaster had heard all of his words over the rain and pounding surf. Only a few affirmatives returned from the diminishing figure in the cutter.

William was reminded of a tale he had once heard regarding a cask of vinegar and six men lost at sea. It did not improve his mood.

[Pew]

Swaying the tiller hard to starboard, we felt the thud again. Each person looking over the gun'le started calling out, "Nothing 'ere sah" replied Owen. "Mister Pew, looks like a bowsprit eh?" called Cut-throat looking over the larboard gun'le. "Aye Mr. Johnson. Keep 's a sharp eye out as we near the rocks." He nods as each man man begins the steady pace of rowing again. Each member of the crew is silent as eyes peeled for any debris stay locked on the choppy tide.

Several moments of chilled quiet pass about the longboat. Cut-throat has now placed his foot on the bow and his elbow upon the other swivel gun, Pollux to gain a better view of the turbulent seas. Drawing the tiller back to center, the silence is broken.

"A BODY SAH!! 2 POINTS OFF THE STARBOARD BOW!!

Each man drops his oar. "Nay lads, keep it 'up!" I yell. Miss Smith stands and reaches for Ajayi's pike laying in the waist. She moves to the bow and lays it upon the gun'le. Cut-throat points and shows where he saw it last. Miss Smith strains, but does manage to see the bobbing corpse.

Drawing the tiller nearer, we slice across the water towards the body.

[Dorian Lasseter]

19 July, 1704 - Off the coast of Los Hermanos

The Cutter Patricia

The Coxwain at the tiller took orders from the QuarterMaster, who in turn was taking some direction from monseur Chanault. It was not an easy task due to the weather. The winds had picked up along with the renewed force of rain which also caused heavier chop in the water. As they traveled to their destination, the frenchman pointed out many hazards, which were in turn relayed to the Watch Dog. Soon the winds forced the ship further from shore and Captain William shouted orders several times to Mr. Lasseter as the distance between cutter and consort increased.

"Well lads... ye heard it from th' Cap'n's own mouth... I do believe we's on 'r own..."

They all looked at each other, then back at the QuarterMaster.

"No worries lads..... we know wot we be doin'... A point ta larb'd Mr. Warren..."

He gave the last order as if nothing were amiss... as a point of fact, nothing was amiss...

With a raised eyebrow he looked to Chanault for reassurance and was rewarded with a slight nod of the head....

"No Worries lads... we're off ta find... Well.... ye know..."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

They rowed in silence until the distance was closed to where the corpse floted in the dark blue waters ahead of them. Tudor silently leaned over the side, to try and see if the body was at all identifiable, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly at the sight. "Hope y'all have strong stomach's lads . . . we're like to be finding lots of these." She said, with a grim smile. The body that floated near to them had been so tossed and torn by the stormy sea that it no longer could even be discerned as a man or woman.

They continued forward at careful pace, keeping all senses alert for signals of rock in the water. With the careful skill of all in the St. Christophers, they navigated their way through and made landfall without incident.

Jumping off the side, Tudor waded her way through the shallows and onto the sandy beach, the soaked sand molding the shape of her feet.

[William Brand]

Ajayi and Harold followed Tudor over the sides of the boat. The two men were so strong together, that they ran the boat up hard upon the sand with little or no assistance from the remaining rowers. Roche tossed out a line to the Steward waiting on shore as easily as one might fire a shot. His aim and arm had ever worked well together. Miss Smith caught it and much of the water flung with it, running up the beach and pulling the line as taught as she could. Harold pushed up past the longboat's bow to throw his own weight on the rope as Ajayi struggled to keep the boat as steady as possible. Owen and Maurice gathered in the sail almost at once. Mister Pew lashed the tiller without even looking down as his eyes scanned the shore for any signs of life or treachery.

Despite past, training, disposition or personal differences, they were one machine in those moments when they hit the shoreline.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

They soon had the boat landed safely, and were casting their eyes around the shore line. Signs of the shipwreck were there, but not much more the chunks of wood and debris were in the immediate area. Squinting against the faint fog and mist, they could see some barrels and crates just a bit further down the shore line. Making sure all was secure, they took the short walk to where the larger debris was.

It was nothing but a few damaged goods. A ruined barrel of sugar, few broken crates of other goods. As they turned the items over, to fully inspect them, Tudor's prediction proved true, when they found a broken, battered body tied to the largest barrel. "Clearly hoped to make it ashore alive. Poor sod."