The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

William continued to watch the cutter through the assistance of a spyglass. They were making surprising progress through a nest of rocks and coral. Those who manned the boat were making it look as easy as a carriage ride on an open road.

All the while he watched them his mind raced around a little saying that Ilex had muttered over and over. She was in such a state by the time he questioned her about the fortune, that much of what she said had come in haltering whispers. Most of it sounded like half forgotten nursery rhymes, but she had repeated one thing more than anything else...

"White folds under red curtains."

At first she had used the phrase only by itself, sometimes adding to it, and sometimes subtracting. She was the proprietor of an establishment with a similar name, so he had given it little thought. However, she had spoken of it so often during her interrogation, that he was certain it had some meaning outside of this.

She had also used such phrases as "coition with Poseidon's horse" and "Drink the water, mind the salt."

William had given each of these truncated remarks to Mister Lasseter, along with some vague instructions about coral and a cave entrance. They had by her the general description of the area and some minute details about the location itself, but the rest of it had been a sort of miasmic babbling.

[Dorian Lasseter]

19 July, 1704 - Off the coast of Los Hermanos

The Cutter Patricia

The Cutter made it's way along through the choppy seas, Mr. Warren at tiller had to make several ajdustments to keep a bearing. Soon they were near the largest ilsette of the Los hermanos chain, and with orders from the QuarterMaster, they began a circumnavigation of it. Once they made their first pass around, Mr. Lasseter ordered the sails brought in and the oars shipped out. This would allow better and slower manuverability of the cutter in close to the shore. All aboard save The QuarterMaster, Coxwain, Monseur Chanault and young Godfrey took up the oars and were no longer passengers aboard. Their progress around for a second time was much slower, but this gave those not encumbered with rowing an easier time looking for what was discribed by the madame, a cave near the surf, or a blowhole... As they came around the western approach, Chanault shifted his gaze to Mr. Lasseter.

"Monseur... As I said before, you will not find what you seek at this time of the day... you will only find it at the lowest of the tide..."

As he finished his voicings Dorian raised his arm quickly,

"There! Amongst those rocks... a spout o' water, as if from a blowhole..."

All turned their eyes to where he pointed. The rain obscured much and after a moment or two some eyes were turned back away from the island.

"Aright lads... keep to yer task... Mr. Warren, take us in a bit closer..."

Chanault's eyes never left the spot that had been pointed out, finally after a large wave crashed upon the rocky shore, a plume of water spouted upwards. He nodded slowly,

"Oui Monseur Lasseter, that is where it lies, but I bid you warning... You may know it's location, but not it's dangers... I advise you not to risk life to recover what you seek, the time is not right...."

Dorian narrowed his eyes as Raphael spoke.

"Aye... I would not send my men into harms way tha' I would not risk myself... That is not ta say I throw caution ta th' wind... We shall scout it out firstly, then, an' on'y then, when th' time is right will we risk what we may... Mr. Warren, head for tha' small beachhead there..."

Chanault seeemed satisfied with what Mr. Lasseter had said and nodded slightly before turning his gaze back to shore.

Soon they were headed through the surf, the QuarterMaster giving sharp direction and even taking over the tiller from the Coxwain...

As the bow of the cutter slid into the sand a flurry of activity errupted. in no time the boat was pulled well up the beach and lashed to some rocks and small trees. the crew on land, supplies piled at the edge of the clearing.

"A'right... now we go an' see what may be..... no need ta take th' tools, yet... just gonna go 'ave a look-see... Mr. Warren, pick four lads ta stay here wi' you, th' rest come wi' me..."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Stepping with nimble care, Raphael made forward and over the edge to the swirling ebb and flow of shallow's stir. As the rest of company gathered ashore awaiting instructions, he remained standing where boots struck retreating sand at wavelette's draw. Tropical breeze teased with eager fingers the trailings of stay raven tress unbound by water's passage. With a quick survey of heavens above, it appeared that The Sun King was winning ground over rain's field and a hidden smile of satisfaction might have been glimpsed from under wide brim shading.

The sound of water turmoil battering age old foe drew his attention behind and to the left, once again. Raging at fluid element's arrogance, air forced its' might causing spew from out cropping's fortitude and the young Frenchman mused deeply what secrets lay within air announcement. "The time is not now..." his whispered words to be lost in the breeze.

Returning his attention forward, Raphael found that he was being watched by those who stood on terra firm. Moving out of shallow's embrace, the sphinx assumed position to the Quartermaster's left.

Pale eyes gave visual caress to the barrier of flora just ahead and remembrance recalled what layed beyond emerald curtain...

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the men assembled to stay with the cutter and those who would make the trek with the QuarterMaster to see what their was to see, Dorian stood and waited and watched. It was an odd tack what he had done, letting Mr. Warren choose the men he wanted to stand guard at the beach instead of picking the men to go on the reconasance with him and leaving the rest with the Coxwain. But he did it to see what the Coxwain would do. Mr. Warren concidered and chose the four who would keep him company while standing guard. The rest of the men turned to Mr. Lasseter.

"Right Lads... keep a sharp eye..."

He then turned and began to pick his way throught the vegitation towards where the spouting of the blowhole marked the location of the cave. With a slight turn of head, he made sure Chanault was by his side, just behind him, but still at his side.

The terrain was not friendly. A mix of rain slick plants, roots, loose rocks and sand made many a man stumble. As they came closer to the blowhole, the angle of the sloping shore became greater, until the waves were crashing against a natural sea wall and the top edge was a pathway over to the spouting of the water.

"Hmmm... this be far as we c'n go... Time n' tide will tell if we been made fools of..."

The lads looked frusteratedly at the Quartermaster, all of them looking around, trying to spy something not there, an alternate enterance.

"Right, you lads, head back ta th' cutter, rig a sail inta an awning an' settle in fer the time bein'... I be right behind ye... A tot a rum upon m' return..."

The last statement put a smile on many a face and most all knuckled their foreheads to the QuarterMaster before turning and picking there way back to the beach. Dorian waited till the men were out of earshot before he spoke to Chanault, who had hung back as well.

"Monseur... I believe th' lowest of th' tide will not be for some time... An' ye say then an' on'y then will we be able to safely enter... not on'y tha' but we'll on'y have mebee an' hour ta find what we may afore th' water rises an' traps whome'er might still dwell within.... Am I correct in this thinkin'?"

Chanault listened to Mr. Lasseter speak and slowly nodded,

"Oui Monseur, you are correct, and even then their will be danger at the safest time... "

"Aye.... wouldn't 'spect it ta be a walk in th' park.... Goode thing we got time ta wait... time ta plan... Off we go then, eh?"

Dorian swept his arm in the direction that they came and Raphael bowed his head before taking the lead. Soon they were naer the beachhead where the lads had just about finished rigging the mainsail of the cutter into a rain fly over the small clearing next to the beached cutter. As they came into view the lads looked up and smiled, hurrying to finish.

Not two minutes later the sail rigged, the supplies organized and plenty of space for the men to sit out of the rain, the QuarterMaster gave the word to break out the rum and hard tack.

"A'right... a tot for e'er man an' boy! We got some time ta wait til we might gain enterance ta th' hidey-hole back yonder.... Got some preperations ta make... once we're all done wi' our rations, some lines need ta be rigged. When th' time comes, myself an' two 'r three others will be goin' in... no tellin' wot we might find... on'y gonna 'ave a short time ta explore and find what we may afore th' tide comes back in... "

All were litening to what was said and many heads bobbed with understanding.

"No Worries lads... avery one o' ye will get yer hands dirty this day... mark my words..."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon looked away, taking casual note of the conversation developing at the room's other side. An aproving smile graced her expression as attention returned to Mister Flint.

"If my instincts prove correct, and the opposit is quite rare, that slip of a girl shall put us in a position of idleness. She has an air of nuturing to her, that Murin, and judging from Nathan's body laguage, I get the firm impression that he minds the attention not at all."

Tempest seemed to consider some private thought momentarily, a sense of resolve settled in her eyes, "Mister Flint, seeing as it is that all is quite under control at the moment, I do beleive I could do with a breath of fresh air. Would you be so kind as to accompany my for a stroll above? You must tell me more of yourself and where you are from. Though well traveled, I can admit that I have never been pleasured with casting sights on your native lands."

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill chuckled.

"Aye. Nathan's always had an eye fer the girls."

His smile broandend a bit more

"De couler mon cher Médecin, je serais enchanté pour vous escorter autour du pont météorologique "

Offering his arm "Shall we"?

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Jacquelyn threaded her arm through his, smiling coyly to his charmed words. The fact that they had been delivered in native rendering did more to their richness of gallant banter. She wondered if Bill were the type of man that would lay a coat over puddle existance to allow a lady safe crossing and glancing sidelong, she had no doubt that he would do such without second thought.

Finding an area near the bow and mostly away from the deck's flurry of movement, the Surgeon turned to companion with speculative eye. "Tell me Monsieur, how is it that you have aquired such familiarity with my language? Am I to assume that you have spent time in New France, or that perhaps, you were befriended by a trapper in the fur trade? I do not wish to pry, but I find that when one is far from home, it eases the soul some to speak of its existance..."

The heavens were brightning as sunlight chased away opressive gray, soon the only evidence of heavy weather would be found in canvas drip and saturated planking underfoot. The air quality had grown thicker as humidity rose with the temperature, but regardless of those factors, Jaquelyn kept her position, arm looped through the Marin's, finding comfort and solace in his nearness. Closing her eyes, a calm washed over ache of soul while awaiting Bill's reply.

[William Brand]

William noted the Doctor's arrival on deck and her companion, Mister Flint. He couldn't decide if he thought it was an unusual pairing of company or not, nor could he be sure whom had invited whom to the deck. He watched them a moment, and then only peripherally. His attention was already too focused elsewhere.

Bringing the glass up again he watched the cutter crew moving about on the beachhead making shelter to wait out...to wait out what? He couldn't say for sure. Not from here anyway. Though judging by the waves and rain, it might be the tide or the storm itself that kept them from their goal.

A sudden sounding from the bow brought him away from his focus immediately as they shallowed so suddenly, William's teeth were set on edge. He had run aground twice before in his lifetime and on one of those occasions the ship had been lost. He barked out orders and the Watch Dog was brought over hard to Starboard. He threw himself against the wheel even as he made the order, and he and Nigel were able to bring her safely over unseen obstacles, if there were any.

He was reminded of an ancient text that warned that stormy days were not good days to be close to land when sailing. Even as he thought this a piece of some greater text went through his head.

lâ Hawla wa lâ quwwata illâ bi-llâhi 'l-`aliyyi 'l-`aZîm!

[Dorian Lasseter]

19 July, 1704, Los Hermanos islettes

As the crew of the Patricia were finishing their rum and hard tack, the rain lightened until it was no more than a sprinkle, and at times not at all. The brightness of the sun struck through the clouds in places, shooting beams down from its surface to strike earth and water.

"Ahhh... we may 'ave goode fortune.... here's ta hopin' tha's it fer th' rains til th' morrow, or longer..."

The QuarterMaster spoke, then stood and walked over to a coil of line. He found the end of the line and began to work it, putting a tautline hitch in it. He then counted off about ten feet of line and began to work the line there. He put a bend in it with a large loop, big enough to fit around a person's waist.

"A'right Lads, I need this ta be done thrice more... These'll be lifelines fer who be goin' inta th' cave when th' time's right... Gonna tie two lads together on each line, workin' together... An' as ye may 'ave guessed, on'y a handful of us will be goin' in.... th' rest o' you will be tendin' th' other end o' th' lines..."

The crew looked at one another, wondering who would be going in and who would be left on the outside.

"I know not what dangers lie inside, so I be askin fer volunteers..... 'cept fer young Godfrey, ye monkey...."

His comment to the young lad got a laugh from the others and made Patrick blush.

"Patrick, lad... yer quite valuable in all this... Be honoured fer that... Yer goin' in as my second..."

The boy stood tall and smiled,

"Aye, Mister Lasseter, sir!"

"Right then... get ta work on them lines, we'll sort out who else will be goin' in after all is set... "

The men set to the tasks at hand and Mr. Lasseter watched, then shifted his eye out to the Watch Dog, seeming to hover off shore. He saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off something on the quarterdeck, so he pulled his glass out, extended it and peered out at the ship. There was the Captain peering back, the glint must have been cast off his own glass. Dorian waved and smiled to him as a sign all was well.

[Pew]

Ashore on Los Hermanos

Miss Smith took the lead heading south along the east beach. Numerous timbers and rigging had been strewn about the beach. Owen had already removed his pistol and had made his way up the shoreline nearest the dunes. A mixture of sand, rock and spiny cactus had made progress slow, but tolerable. Ajayi had his pike in hand and continued to poke and prod under each large section of timber. Cut-throat had tied off the longboat and was bringing up the rear, watching behind us as to make sure no unsavories were planning an ambush. The Captain's steward had gone ahead while Maurice and I constantly surveyed the beachhead to see if there was anything remaining that could be used on board the Watch Dog. The wind had picked up by then and sent sharp bursts of sand into our faces, only for us to turn around and have the wind change direction again.

"HERE!", cried Tudor. Maurice and I ran ahead while Ajayi had lifted his head and doubled his pace towards Miss Smith's voice.

Several of us had arrived upon the largest piece of debris we had found yet. Assuming it was from the Apollo, the Captain's steward had found the majority of the foremast intact. The rigging had become entagled in several other pieces of debris but looked fairly usuable.

"Mr. Roche, 'ave a go at ropin' tha mast ther'?"

"Aye Mister Pew..." Maurice nodded and grabbed a coil of wet rope that had been sloshing about in the shorebreak. As accurate as David had spun the rock into Goliath's head, he tossed a small lasso loop around the main mast. Ajayi, Harold, Myself and Owen each grabbed a handfull of the rope, trying to pull the large section of debris onto the beach and out of the sea.

"WAIT!!" yelled Miss Smith over the crash of waves and wind whipping around us. She waded into the water and removed a hidden dagger from her boot only to slash away those lines that were tangled underwater around the rocks. Each of us looked at each other, surprised to see the quickness that the blade had been removed and set back in it's place, as if it was merely a simple breath being taken. Ajayi laughed out loud again and I winked to the steward. She looked back and nodded for us to continue hoisting the foremast.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Jacquelyn threaded her arm through his, smiling coyly to his charmed words. The fact that they had been delivered in native rendering did more to their richness of gallant banter. She wondered if Bill were the type of man that would lay a coat over puddle existance to allow a lady safe crossing and glancing sidelong, she had no doubt that he would do such without second thought.

Finding an area near the bow and mostly away from the deck's flurry of movement, the Surgeon turned to companion with speculative eye. "Tell me Monsieur, how is it that you have aquired such familiarity with my language? Am I to assume that you have spent time in New France, or that perhaps, you were befriended by a trapper in the fur trade? I do not wish to pry, but I find that when one is far from home, it eases the soul some to speak of its existance..."

The heavens were brightning as sunlight chased away opressive gray, soon the only evidence of heavy weather would be found in canvas drip and saturated planking underfoot. The air quality had grown thicker as humidity rose with the temperature, but regardless of those factors, Jaquelyn kept her position, arm looped through the Marin's, finding comfort and solace in his nearness. Closing her eyes, a calm washed over ache of soul while awaiting Bill's reply.

Bill smiled ruefully.

"there were a time, not overly long ago, but long enough in the minds of most when the people of New England called the Acadians friend."

he paused for effect then continued.

"Aye that was the way o' it. Hunted and fished together we did and a good life it were too. But as the old sayin' goes 'All good things must come to an end'. When trouble brewed in the old world, rabble rousers loyal to their bloody monarchs caused unrest for us and forced the breach of peace we now enjoy."

His smile turned to a frown.

" And most sorrowful of all we've dragged our beloved brothers, the red men, into the fray."

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

From the twisted crook of local banyan, Raphael kept silent vigil over cutter comrades. The lengnth of overcoat now hung on near limb broken off by the weather of night's passing and the temperatures continued to rise, he considered doffing his shirt, as well. Reclining back to the snarled tree's support, he recalled the presence of flask in hanging pocket and reach for its' retrieval. The burn of native cognac hastened downward to warm inner workings and the pale eyes went half mast in appreciation to said refinement. The steady buzz of conversation combined with the lull of wave lape did well to relax the young Frenchman further and his mind wandered casually, though senses were alert below faux outward visage.

La Rideau Rouge ~ Janvier 1704

The girl's name was Madeleine, or so she had said; though her claims to origin were questionable. Not that such things mattered, one did not go to establishments of carnal fare to know the status and origins of its' occupants. She was young, far younger than the age she also claimed to be, but her skills far surpassed trivial details of non consequence. Many an agreeable night's duration had been wiled away in the large feather bed of forgein make and satisfaction made sure that many more would follow.

It was on one such night, that the young woman of false announcements, pushed back perspiration drenched tresses to look upon staddled bedmate and her eyes betrayed the uncertainties of true age. The unconscience feeling of being watched coupled with the fact that she had not made movement to retreat perching, roused companion to awareness and the pale sights opened to focus on soft features.

Madeleine fidgited under the steady gaze and removing herself, stepped to cast off shift; taking up the company of the room's only window. Soiled Dove said nothing at first, her attention centered on some unknown point beyond the Red Curtain's encompasment. Raphael sat up to prop against what pillows remained on bed's surface; waiting with predatory patience for quary's return.

Remaining in the spot she had chosen, Madeleine's words drifted to his hearing as an uncertain whisper.....

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Bill smiled ruefully.

"there were a time, not overly long ago, but long enough in the minds of most when the people of New England called the Acadians friend."

he paused for effect then continued.

"Aye that was the way o' it. Hunted and fished together we did and a good life it were too. But as the old sayin' goes 'All good things must come to an end'. When trouble brewed in the old world, rabble rousers loyal to their bloody monarchs caused unrest for us and forced the breach of peace we now enjoy."

His smile turned to a frown.

" And most sorrowful of all we've dragged our beloved brothers, the red men, into the fray."

Jacquelyn expelled a long sigh of discontent, and there was empathy cast in her expression, "Je regrette infiniment...It is the misfortune of the masses to fall under the desires and thinkings of those who rule. The further crime lies in the fact that said philosophies are often of greedy intents, with no care to what is destroyed in the pursuit."

In the distance, a sharp flash of some reflective surface caught her attention fleetingly. Releasing her arm from his, the Surgeon shifted stance to rail support and held his eyes with her own.

"I have heard tellings of the noble natives that you speak of, though regretfully, I have never cast sight on any of their number. Just a further crime and example of injustices commited on those of innocent manner. How bold our upper classes must view themselves, to cause such angst and chaos upon the lives of others they shall never see."

Extreme disgust colored her pixieish features, the smooth brow creasing heavily. Jacquelyn's next statement was conveyed just above a whisper and such revealation was not intended to be spoken so freely.

"It shames me to be counted as one of their number. My brethren are far from the civilized creatures they proclaim to be, for the most part..."

The Surgeon shifted footing in uncomfortable manner hearing her thoughts spoken aloud. The deep green eyes flit to Bill's own then quickly away as she offered a weak smile, hoping the sound of wind and wave had been enough to cover accidental verbose. Turning to look outward to water's disturbed surface, she considered the mulitiple faux pas unwittingly made the longer her time aboard progressed. It was a painful self admission that would require remedy in one manner or another.

Forcing away introspections, she reached once again to thread her arm through the Marin's own and drew him near. Keeping her focus on the waters out laying, Jaquelyn made effort to dismiss her

self-tresspass.

"Tell me more of your noble red brothers, s'il vous plait. How wonderful it must have been to have gained their aquaints."

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill cast a grin at his shipmate.

"You've nothing to be ashamed of mon ami, there are still many in New France I would call friend. Though I do find it bothersome that I must greet any strange Acadian with a leveled rifle rather than a hearty 'Bonjour'."

He took a moment to light his pipe before speaking again.

"My father were a dear friend of Ongeswasgone (Un -guess-wass-go-neh) a great leader of the Kanien'kehake (Ka-nayn-eh-ha-kay) people. It means 'People of the Flint'. So I suppose one could say I am The Flint of the People."

Bill grinned at his small joke.

"As result of this friendship I be brother to the people. In the tounge of their enemies they are called Mohawk and this is how you will hear them referred to in the colonies. I spent most of my youth with them, their lands are called 'Akwesasne' (Ah-wuh-saz-nuh), 'Where The Partridge beats It's wings'. In summer we lived along the great river 'Kaniatarakeh' (Kanah-ta-raw-hey) {which we know today as the St. Lawrence Seaway between northern New York and southern Ontario}. It is a place near the great lake called Ontario, and in the winter we lived in the great valley to the south. We have no name for this place, it is simply our home."

He took a long pull on his pipe and collected his thoughts before continuing the lesson.

"The people are one of a league of five great nations. There are actually six , but for tradition's sake they are still known as the five. They are The Seneca, The Oneida, The Cayuga, The Onondaga, and The Tuscarora.

The League is seen as a great family and their many lands seen as a great house. The Mohawk in the east are called 'the eastern doorkeepers'. The Seneca, a people very much like the Mohawk, are 'the western doorkeepers'. This is so because they are the strongest two nations of the league and it is their place to defend the others. The Onondaga are great healers and caregivers to the others, for this they are 'the firekeepers'. The Oneida and the Cayuga are great craftsmen both, but small in number. They must be protected most of all that is why they are called 'the little brothers'. The Tuscarora are a people of the sea, they are the last to join the family so they are 'the adopted brothers'. Nathan has spent much time among them and is their brother."

Bill scratched the back of his head absently and took another deep pull of his pipe.

"What else would you know my friend?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief, for the Marin, though hearing her statement clearly, had mistaken Jacquelyn's admission of shame being kindred countryship...The Surgeon mused over what Bill's opinion might have been if he had understood her true meaning. There was no shame in her heart due to heritage, it was birthright carefully secreted, that was the true reference underlying. Those of her proper status and above that stirred the ills of the world. But, that world was far away and though she longed for native soil, Jaquelyn oft times wondered if she would ever set foot there again.

As Bill lit simple pipe of clay rendering, the sweet pungent smell of tobbaco wafted the vacinity. It was a pleasant scent, a scent that brought images forth of great hearths and warm company in the quiet hours of the day. She listened intently to his tellings, nodding here and there in fascination to Bill's roundedness on subject matter. It had never entered her mind that he, as well as Nathan, bore such strong connections to the Colonies' aboriginal peoples.

With the Marin's ending query, she remained silent briefly to digest all that he had conveyed, then smiled warmly, "Quelle affaire e'trange, cher..." The Surgeon pursed her lips in deep thought, then with a slight incline of chin, she slyed a sidelong glance.

"I must ask, and please do not preceive me as being over bold, but how did Nathan and yourself end up in service under le couronne l'anglais? It is a simple curiosity of mine and I shall take no offense if you wish not to answer. And in turn, is there anything of which I might offer you?"

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill chuckled

"We were kidnapped by a press gang from The Dreadnaught while it was at anchor in Boston where my father had settled to do busniness as a gun smith, a trade he hadned on to me. Nathan and meself were in town fer a visit, when he suggested we go to a local tavern where he was sweet on one o' the serving wenches. After a night o' carousin' we headed to bed when we were accosted by the sailors. We were both drunk and in no position to resist and in short order found ourselves bound for New Providence. Mind ye now Nathan and I were both dressed in our skins, which isn't an uncommon fashion in the colonies, when we were taken so we posed something of an oddity to the crew who felt that they simply must extort us for all our worldly posessions. So they came at us in a large group, but Nathan and I managed to fight them off. The leader of the Marine detachment, a Leftenant Colquhoun, saw the goings on and insisted we be transferred to his command and thus Nathan and I were made Marines of the Royal Navy."

He tapped out his pipe over the side

"Now, supposin' ye tell me a bit more about yer own self and how ye came to be aboard the Dog?"

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Jacquelyn gave observation without effort to hide distaste in her tone.

"Ah, I see...So it is the grand ritual of Pier Pressure that landed you and hallowed compatriote where you are this day. Such a barbaric practice, not that I expect much more from English soil."

She made a near silent "tsk", to further punctuate inner thoughts on base ventures.

"It appears fortunate for you both to have come into the elevated sensabilities of Monsieur Colquhoun and perhaps I should be thankful for his interferance, for it leads up to you standing here this day."

The Surgeon smiled at the irony of it all, a smile that hesitated briefly as her companion made good on what she had offeredquid pro quo. She slyed another sidelong glance, "There is not overmuch to tell, but to do so in full content, would take a very long time..."

Her eyes drifted to near distant land masses while she considered what should be said carefully. Coming to some form of resolve, Jacquelyn turned to face him full with a small nod of accord.

" I was born and raised in the South of France, the region commonly known as Gascogne. My father was a native Gascon, my mother from County Cork, Ireland. My father did not uphold certain traditional thinkings in regards to gender station and encouraged me as I grew to persue knowledge for the riches it held. By the age of eight and ten years, I had already traveled the expanse of France, Spain, Italy, England, Scotland and several others. I was educated by those of enlighted thinkings, much to my father's joy and my mother's distress. I relocated to Marseille, where at the tender age of one and twenty years, came under the wing and tutolage of a highly commended man of medical arts. Becoming quite comfortable with the local charm of seaside town, I remained there for five more years; enjoying the social circles and carefree life that was to be had. Within that time, I met, later becoming engaged to, an inspired and success driven lieutenant de la Marine Nationale France."

She paused, lost in some private distaction. For a fleet in time, a haunting look shadowed her expressive eyes then dissipated. Even with the ommission of certain past circumstances, unspoken demons begged their due. Jacquelyn drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly before continuing on.

" Four years ago I left my beloved Marseille for La Desirade in the Leeward Islands. My travelling companion, Monsieur Armand-Gabriel D'esnumbuc, was an old childhood friend and our families are quite close. He had spoken of a desire to leave France for the Antilles, so I agreed to accompany him. We sampled what the Caribe had to offer, returning to La Desirade now and again to recoupe. It was on one such layover, that news had spread of the Watch Dog being in port and in need of a person of medical prowess. Our gitan souls could not refuse such a chance of exploration and we signed the muster. Armand has since returned to La Desirade..."

The Surgeon laughed lightly, inwardly longing for the bottle of cognac the lay nestled in private quarters below.

"That is truly the condensed telling, cher. I hope I did not bore you with such trivial prattle of mine meanderings. " Jacquelyn smiled apologeticly.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

La Rideau Rouge ~ Continued

Raphael had listened with unwavering attention as Madeleine described a convesation overheard that in all likeliness was never to fall on outside ears. Her voicings were sparadic, often given over to long pauses of silence and unsure glances in his direction. The young Frenchman kept his own counsal, patiently allowing her the time to reveal all without interuption.

Now, in the grey-lavender hours of early dawn, as Soiled Dove slept nuzzled against his frame, Raphael meticulously turned over her words. At first, he had chalked it up to some ruse, a ruse designed to ensnare his person to the betterment of her station. A large amount of riches hidden away on some not-so-far-away island offering great promise for a "future life together".

He shifted position, a movement that conjuring small frown on Madeleine's sleeping expression. As muted light made efforts through the window, Raphael went over all that was said once again. And, once again came to the conclusion that madeleine's better interests weighed heavily in the mix...Though, the area she had indicated could very well hold such a find and he knew enough of Madame Illex to assume shady dealings. The Proprietress was always quite accomodating, but there lay a shiftiness in her that was far from uncommon to her breed.

Pulling the slender young woman closer with gentle care, Raphael scrutinized her faux innocent face of fair qualities. Madeleine gave an unconscienceous smile to the cradleing and he spoke with hushed tones of native tonque; knowing she would not understand even in an awakend state.

"What is it you seek, Mademoiselle? An officer to call husband that shall relieve you of your carnal employ and elevate you in Society's view?" he chuckled wryly. " A temptation of wealth to use as bait for the snare? A most inviting proposition, though the want money bears little influence to my existance..."

A local avian's shriek brought his focus back to the present, heavily lidded sights centered on the Quartermaster forcing lengnth of hemp into submissive acts of contortionist twists. A recent memory tugged for attention in regard to former contemplations.

When Le Requiem had returned to familiar mooring of Margarita, and her company watched as fire induced black cloud rose from shoreline ahead, the face of Madeleine had come to call on the young Lieutenant's mind. Arriving on shore, inqueries had been made. Inqueries that bore no fruit beyond the fact that dusky skinned girl had not been seen since the fire had ravaged brothel's once elegant lines...

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Off the coast of Los Hermanos

The rain that pelted the deck crew thinned and all but dissipated. It was little more than a reminder of its formal self and the lookouts and gunnery crew seemed greatly relieved.

William welcomed the improved weather no less than any other officer, but Mister Youngblood's mood improved significantly. He decreased the runners who had gone to and from the powder stores and he went to the bow to light his first pipe of the day.

Before long, Mister Gage was at the larboard rail again, seeing what fish might be had off of Los Hermanos. His work load in the galley had been much reduced by the recent disciplining handed down by the Bosun, and the cook was enjoying the opportunity to rest from his routine. He stood at the rail testing his hands at an old trade he knew from his youth, and his skills showed a plentiful quantity of fish could be had from the reefs off of these island shores as well.

William watched him gather in a variety of fish and thought that if they found no other treasure here today, they might become rich in the fish trade.

"Privateers turned fishmongers." he said to Mister Brisbane as he nodded in the direction of the cook.

Nigel smiled and responded with a smile that made it nearly impossible to like the man. Then he added his solitary affirmative on the matter. "Cozy."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Los Hermanos, Landing party from the Patricia

Time flowed along as the men quickly finished the simple workings of the lifelines, then were instructed to arrange the other supplies so as to easily convey them to their destination of use. As they were at their tasks, Mr. Lasseter was watching the water, watching the shift of the tide.

As the day grew longer, the beach they were on got larger as the tide receeded. Soon it would be time to delve into the unknown.

"A'right... time we shifted this truck o'er near th' blowhole... Grab up some gear an' off we go..."

As he turned lead the men, an air of excitement was felt. Soon all hands were full and a nervous energy surged around the men. There was some light jostling between the lads, as if who got their first mattered.

"Simmer down now... th' path is treacherous enough wi'out other mischief... slow an' steady now..."

Dorian continued up the pathway and looked ahead, the blowhole was nolonger active, as the surf was a good five or six feet off now, though a strong surge could still drown it. As they got nearer a new contour of the lad appeared. It seems a natural ramp down to the water's edge from the sea wall was now risen from the depths. Closer still and the formation of rock that made the enterance to the cave came into view. It was very much like what lady Ilex had said, the rock looking like folds of a curtain. As the crew came to see what the receeding waters had revealed, some spirited chatter insued. The QuarterMaster carefully walked down the ramp and to the mouth of the cave, peering into the darkness within. After a moment or so, his eyes had adjusted enough to see a small tidal pool within and past that it looked as if the cave angles upwards.

"Mr. Lasseter! Wot we waitin' fer? Don't look dangerous ta me. I'll go in an' find what th' wench hid..." said Jerrod Styles with a swager to his step. This got a laugh from the men and several heads nodded.

"Mister Styles... Do ye know wot lay before us in this cave? Have ye not thought that if it were that easy we might 'ave an empty hiddin' place, bereft o' wot treasures been hid?"

Styles confident grin slowly faded and took on a sheepish grin.

"No... I thought not... Those o' ye who wish ta go in, we go in with much care.... Th' lady Ilex is a treacherous creature, an' I expect more treachery still to come from 'er..."

The QuarterMaster slowly made his way back up to the assembled men and paced back and fourth, looking each in the eye.

"This ain't no berry pickin' jaunt.... no easy pickin's... I need six volunteers... six brave souls ta follow me inta tha' cave o' treachery..."

[Bloody Bill Flint]

The Redlegs scratched his chin and regarded his shipmate. He immediately keened to the unspoken implication that she was quite finished talking about her past, and that further query was unwelcomed.

"If ye've nothing more te ask of me, then perhaps we'd best see to our patients". he offered brightly.

"And mayhaps a wee nip of the creature."he added slyly, casting her a knowing grin.

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - In the galley aboard the Watch Dog

Just prior to five bells of the Afternoon Watch

William gave over the deck for a time while he visited the galley. He found Mister Gage there humming to himself over buckets of fish guts and a table of fillets. They conversed at length on the subject of fish, a subject that Lazarus had much to talk about. The man was well versed in all fish edible and not, including Banded, Foureye and Spotfin Butterflyfish; Queen, French and Gray Angelfish, Rock Beauty, Blue Tang, Ocean Surgeonfish, Doctorfish, Bar Jack, Great, Barracuda, Chub, Bluestriped Grunt, Yellowtail Snapper, Bicolor Damselfish, Sergeant Major, Blue Chromis, Harlequin Bass, Fairy Basslet, Redband Parrotfish, Yellowhead Wrasse, and Spotted Goatfish.

William's intended, short visit soon turned into a naturalist and culinary study of the many Caribbean varieties of reef residents. Far from being put out by the man's enthusiastic narrative, William enjoyed the distraction with a mixture of relief and intellectual interest.

While they conversed, the Quartermaster and the select crew in his charge, prepared to descend beneath Los Hermanos.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Los Hermanos, the cave enterance

The QuarterMaster had asked for six volunteers to accompany him into the cave. Young Patrick Godfrey had no choice, for he had been brought along just for the purpose of going in, due to his size and wirey build. Of the remaining ten, Thatcher, Morrell, and Whiting bowed out, not wanting to venture into the seemingly very tight quarters of the cave. All others were willing to explore the depths of the unknown, even Chanault would risk it.

"I see... well.... very goode... Styles, you an' Tucker I need ta be just at th' enterance, If there be a problem, I'll wont you two ready ta rush in 'r pull us out, along wi' who else stays out.... Woodington, Smyth, you two pair up... Marchande, you an' Monsuer Chanault... Dinwiddie, looks like yer out 'ere wi' those lads tha' don't 'ave th' stomach ta go in... sorry... Godfrey with me..."

As he gave his commands, those he spoke of went about securing the lines to themselves, paying out the coils onto the shore, where the men in reserve took them up.

"Whiting, light three torches an' bring 'em here..."

"Aye, Mister Lasseter..."

Whiting walked over to the pile of torches they had fashioned from the flotsam of the Apollo, some scraps of canvas and line soaked in terpintine...

He took a small pouch from a sack, opened it and withdrew a flint, steel, and punking, to which he struck up a smokey flame and lighted one torch. He brought that over to the Quartermaster along with the two unlit ones.

"Thankee Mr. Whiting... "

He handed one to Woodington and one the Chanault, then touched his lit torch to theirs, igniting them as well.

"Aright you lot, each o' ye grab a spade, smyth, bring a pick... Into th' breech my friends..."

With that statement, Mr. Lasseter turned and peered into the cave, torch held out infront of him, illuminating the way. All the men were so quiet that as they ventured forth the sound of the ships bell aboard the Watch Dog could be heard tolling out five times, marking five bells of the afternoon watch.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Several hours had passed since the party had landed, and they had made fair progress making their way down the shore line. They hadn't found much, especially not in the last hour or so. Just a few more barrles of damaged goods and supplies. Tudor looked around at the landscape that surrounded her, and took a deep breath of the death-tinged salt air, and moved forward, knowing there was still much ground to cover in their exploration.

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between five and six bells of the Afternoon Watch

The fifth bell came and went, and William returned to the deck. He stood in the waist of the gundeck for a time and found himself looking Northeastward for several minutes. He couldn't explain why, but he had what he had always referred to as an "inkling". It was a sense of something. Something vague. He couldn't say what it was. It might have been apprehension, but it seemed more like a promnesia, though too subtle to be described.

He was reminded of Kardal who always said, "Some'ne 'as begun yer grave. Soon ye'll taste da dirt".

His eyes moved to those men ashore and back again Northeastward.

His inklings were seldom wrong, at least those forebodings which had proved to be warnings by discovery. Sometimes they amounted to nothing tangible, since he had often changed the course of his life to avoid whatever unseen danger might lie in his path when his instincts had given him pause. Other times he had but narrowly escaped some fiendish treachery discovered along his course.

Still, he was bothered. He did not like inklings, omens, misgivings or anything like unto them. They were like itches down in one's bones.

What infuriated him most about these trepidations and flares of instinct was the utter lack of meaning they offered when they happened upon him, and the inconsistent nature of the warnings, if they were warnings. For example, he had received no disquieting feelings whatever about Muller or Van Buren, two proved dangers as close to him as his own skin. He had also had no inkling about the recent Frenchman dispatched by Chanault. He was endangered often without any proceeding omens, so that when he had misgivings about unseen things out of sight and reason, he was greatly bothered by them.

William was a rational man and not given to superstitions, so he supposed that some of these misgivings had been little more than imagination. He also supposed that he had reason to feel this way all of the time, given the number of enemies he had made over the years. Still, he trusted his instincts and he was not one to set aside the foreboding entirely, for some more base and animal self within him might be trying to remind him that his life had become a bit unbalanced of late. Perhaps it was just a side effect of so many close calls and narrow escapes in the past few weeks. It had been years since so many, bent on his demise, had entered into his presence. He had every reason to bide the obvious concerns of his recent alliances. He was a just one more wanted man among a crew of two dozen malefactors at least.

"I'm fast becoming a dog aboard the 'Dog", he thought, smiling. "I'm bristling and barking at unseen things again."

He wondered if this was something Mister Lasseter would understand, or if he should even tell him. He did not want to appear nervous or distracted in front of the Quartermaster. He wasn't concerned that the man might see this as a weakness in a Captain, but rather as an oddity in a friend. For he had grown a genuine fondness for the Irishman and would not have him think aught of him.

This thought was enough to bring him soundly back to the present and to the men searching under Los Hermanos. This was a dangerous business, and the exchange rates between coin and loyalties was not a business to be taken lightly. He noted that half of the search party's number were not to be seen ashore, so the delving had begun.