The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

Cave interrior, Los Hermanos

As the QuarterMaster entered the cave with young Godfrey just behind him, Chanault and Marchande next, followed by Woodington and Smyth...

The cave opened up slightly just inside, where a tidal pool took up the low area there, which was easily ten feet long. at the other end of the pool the tunnel began an upward slope. Dorian stepped to the edge of the pool and leaned close, holding his torch inches above the waters' surface, studying it for a time.

"Hmmm... very deceivin'... very deceivin' indeed... Looks ta be on'y a couple inches a water... tis a bit deeper... Styles! Have th' lads out there cut n' haul a tree or somat about twelve feet long! Right quick like!"

"Right Mr. Lasseter!"

As the crew waited inside the mouth of the cave, Smyth picked up a bit of loose coral and lobbed it into the tidal pool. It splashed and disappeared into whatever depths awaited it.

"Christ! that is deep!" He exclaimed in an overly loud voice. All eyes looked at him and Styles stuck his finger in his own ear and wiggled it.

"Er...sorry mates..." he said quietly...

ABout ten minutes past and soon there was the sound of voices hollering commands over the sound of the surf. Styles and Tucker were getting the end of a reasonably thick log handed down to them. Soon it was manuvered into the cave and slid over and across the pool. It just made it. The QuarterMaster took a step up onto it, shifted it around til it was as stable as possible.

"A'right... lessee how this works... Godfrey, you start across before th' line gets too stretched out... Steady lad..."

Mr. Lasseter slowly started across the log, one hand on the cave wall. he went slowly, making sure every foot fall was well placed. He was almost all the way across when Godfrey started, not as slowly as the Quartermaster, he almost lost his footing just as Mr. Lasseter made the other side and turned around.

"Easy Lad, Easy! No need ta be in a rush... Ye wanna be th' first fish we pull outta there? Take yer time..."

Godfrey stopped and took a deep breath, then slowly plodded across the log, almost jumping to the cave floor next to Dorian.

"Goode on you lad... Easy enough... now fer th' rest o' you lads..."

They both stood back making room for the others to cross the pool... Dorian looked further into the cave using the flickering light of the torch to see what trechery may be ahead of them...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon noted the calm acceptance that Mister Flint conveyed in silence. A great inward relief had washed over her as he had deftly redirected their conversation onto different subject matter and her opinions of the marin increased another notch.

Jacquelyn had noted peripherally, that William had returned to oversee his kingdom of wood and iron. A minute crease disturbed the fine line of her brow as she stole a brief glimpse to his person. What was viewed and summized quickly, caused her to turn just enough in which to watch without obstruction.

Bill's invitation refocused her attention and the deep green of emerald sight moved hesitantly away from the Captain to her Colonial companion,

"Pardon, mon ami... My mind was wandering and you must forgive my ill manners. A drop of the crathur does sound most tantalizing, though it seems the hour is too early for me to raise such spirits..."

The pixieish features broke into a mischievous and secretive smile as she regarded him slyly.

"Of course, that does not mean that I would not be unaccepting of said invitations in the evening hours."

The Surgeon tapped her chin in thought as if in some deep contemplation, " I might suggest that you bring Nathan and his new admirer above into the air for a spell. I think that it would do them both well and I can think not of a more suitable guardian then yourself.

The smile Jacqelyn offered Bill was one to rival any cat of Cheshire origin, though her eyes traveled to where William stood and she pondered the ill ease that lay over his posture.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Chanault hung back as the other men made way across improvised bridge. With each crossing he carefully judged the pros and cons of fallen flora. A flash of movement near left boot drew his attention to the errands of local crustatian. With the lowering of waters, small crabs of various decorum had shown themselves boldly; picking at unseen delicacies trapped in crevaces of coral terrain. For a brief moment, the armored diligent hesitated in its quest, seeming to eye the foriegn being in its' realm. Twined claws of mismatched proportions were raised, whether in salute or defiance, only the crab itself truly knew. It was a standoff aranged betwixt the mighty and not so meek that amused the young Frenchman for the fleet of its' duration. A minute passed in slow motion then, due to tireing of the game or having calculated the odds of present advesary, the armored antogonist skittered sideways and out of sight.

Raphael watched after its' departure the recentered on the makeshift bridge. The last of the intended had just stepped to opposit ground, the intermittant flicker of torch light caressed the unknown in seductive dance from the bend ahead. The Sphinx proceeded across with catlike grace, making the treacherous look like a simple venture.

Reaching the pitted surface of more stable means, he surveyed the rough surround unconsciencously then followed those who had gone before...

[Pew]

East Beach of Los Hermanos

While the rain all but subsided the lot of were still drenched. A few of the lads had stripped down to their breeches while the rest of us had simply unbuttoned our gear so as to have some assemblance of drying.

The Captain's steward had still been several paces ahead of us poking and prodding the various nooks that had been arrainged by previous storms upon the beach. Cut-throat had taken a higher path and stayed nearer the scrub cactus that crested the dunes. Glancing behind us and looking west across the small isle for a chance at seeing Mr. Lasseter's crew. Ajayi, Harold and Owen had stuck closer to the shoreline, trouncing in and out of the waves, still finding the various flotsam that had washed ashore form the Apollo.

"Miss Smith?" I shouted ahead, "Mebbe the lads would like a bit o' rest an' a tot o' rum eh?" She turned and nodded and I waved the lads up for a quick rest.

Each of us sat in a small circle, wringing out what clothes we could into the drying sand. Passing around the small bottle I had removed from my vest, Owen and Harold began to bicker over who had taken the last sip from the flask. Ajayi shook his head and layed his half-pike alongside him. Standing, he went over to a small eddy formed behind two rocks were he could wash his face. Cut-throat had already begun to pat and dry his sidearm as if it needed nurturing and reassurance.

Turning to the steward, who had let down her hair and pulled a piece of hardtack from Owen's satchel, I try and coax her, "So Miss Smith, how'd ye come about b'n aboard the Watch Dog?"

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor smiled inscrutibly. "Something to do, really." She said with a shrug, then paused, chewing on a corner of the hard tack. "Now, why I needed something to do is a much more complicated and long story." She said with a wink and a wicked grin that told that it wasn't so much of a complicated story but a great escapade. "Let us just say that after my last employer," here she cleared her throat, a mischevious twinkle in her eye, "departed from this life, I found it would be better to leave the continent." Here, she looked down at the ground and scuffed the sand with her boots. "Luckily for me, my mentor had connections that were able to bring me to the Carribean and could give me a name to hide behind. And then, shortly after my arrival, I heard rumors of the Watch Dog - I knew some people that knew some people that knew some people, so to speak. Seemed ideal, really." She shrugged, gesturing towards the flask, silently asking if there were any of the spirits left to share. "Does that answer your curiosity, sir? Feel free to ask away if it does not?" She said with an indulgent grin.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Flint smiled broadly at is companion.

"Capital idea dear Doctor".

Turning smartly on his heel he proceeded below decks. He first made way to his berth and dressed in the remainder of his uniform and then retrieved Nathan's. That being done he hurried to the surgery to find his friend and the Irish girl. Opening the hatch to the infirmary he beamed his brightest smile and tossed Nathan's uniform in his lap.

"Hello Billy," Nathan said with a grin,"What's this then?"

Bill chuckled," Get dressed corproral, you're to proceed topside for some fresh air, Doctor's orders, move along then, smartly now".

Turning to Murin, Bill removed his tricorn and bowed deeply at the waist.

"If'n it please milady, you're presence is also requested and I must say we'd be most happy to have your company".

At this he cast Nathan a mischievious eye.

Nathan caught the look and grinned

"Well I suppose tis no use arguin' if'n it be the Doctors orders."

[William Brand]

July 19, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Six bells of the Afternoon Watch

William made his way to the quarterdeck, where he took up his own watch at the aft most bulwark rails. The Watch Dog was buffeted enough by the wind and outgoing tide that he was forced to keep a hand on the flagstaff at all times. The air was altogether clear of falling rain, though much of the clouds remained. The watches seemed much relieved by the end of the raging showers, and conversation was springing up along the deck crews. The wind was blowing at a fair pace, and had the Watch Dog not been anchored well offshore, the receding tide may have threatened her. They were forced to take in sail, but they went about this business with a quiet care. Though they were down by almost a full watch's company, with so many ashore, the duties aboard were tended to without much difficulty.

Nigel asked permission to go to the galley, and asked if he might bring something back again for the Captain. William sent him along without requiring anything, content to stand there alone.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin smiled demurely and nodded her head toward Mr. Flint. She had been enjoying Nathans company and the conversation was a welcome change to the grunts and groans that had become the communication between Ana and herself this past week. She looked over to where Ana lay, still sleeping soundly. Murin wondered if Ana's dreams were simply avoidance of the current situation. Ana, was most likely dreaming of her privileged life. Murin fought hard not to feel negatively towards Ana for her 'birth right' but the green eyed monster would always show itself at some very unlikely moments. She turned from Ana with new resolve, yes, some fresh air would be nice.

She had begun to feel a bit claustrophobic here in the surgery. She never did take well to being cooped up and after the long voyage below deck from Ireland to Barbados with so many sick and dying next to her in such squalor she had developed a bit of claustrophobia. Again, the idea of being offered to travel the deck, a freedom she had not known for at least three years now, made her heart light. "Aye, some fresh air would do m'good!" She took the hand offered her and stood to leave. As they were about to exit the surgery Murin stopped short. "Beggin yer pardon" she looked at Bill then to Nathan and finally her gaze fell to the floor. "Lass?" Flint inquired. "I've nil on bot a chemise. I ken nay go out like dis." The two men smiled together understanding the lass' dilemma, Nathan collected a blanket from the cot she had slept in and wrapped it about her shoulders. She gathered it to her and allowed her escort to guide her to the deck.

The door opened and a blast of damp air danced around her. She breathed deeply the fresh salt air. Her bare feet felt the dampness of the deck still wet from the days rains and a bit of a chill ran through her. The rains had stopped but the sun, still behind the lingering clouds, brought little heat to the air. She crossed the blanket tightly and let her escort lead her where he intended.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le Requiem

The acrid smell of spent powder hung the air in a choking presence. The main mast lay over the larboard side, a raged effigy shrouded in tangle of rope and canvas. What was left of its' once noble standing now sat as a splintered stump in the waist pointing with acquisation to the heavens above. A small group of men tended to ravaged legnth, diligently cuting free the ties that bound. Their expressions set grim to the task while five of their breathren were laid with respect near opposit rail in preperation to journey into watery embrace. The Well Oiled Machine thrumed and whilred, though occassional glances South and West paused its flow.

Fournier ignored the glue like stickiness that flowed downward from right thigh to pool into corresponding boot. The pierce of intense amber sight reflected inner thoughts of contempt as he watched the ravaged shade of Anglais brig make wallowing retreat. There would be no pursuit this time and the Chessmaster looked darkly into inner soul taking a degree of twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that brig interloper would not make port before succumbing to bluewater greed. The Capitaine had taken the brig's intentions as an insult and though known as being a man of mercy and level thought, this situation had stirred feelings more natural to the Lieutenant that stood near supporting Jean-Micheal's weight.

Dominique Lamaire adjusted his hold on kindred, shifting his footing to better stabilize them both. His eyes cut briefly to the crimson stain that glared angrily on wooden surface below then to Dupris. The Chirurgien's expression was hard set, but underlieing there was a current of deep concern. A truth that was shared, but both knew well enough, that Capitaine Fournier would not leave this hallowed ground until he had made such a decision...or lost consciencousness from lifeblood loss.

"Combien de hommes?"

Lamaire glanced sidelong to his cousin's query, noting the pale undertone beneath tanned features, " Cinq, mon Capitaine."

" Cinq..." Jean-Micheal repeated the word with a touch of regret mixed with disdane.

There was something fluttering just out of grasp that he intended to voice, but his thoughts were becoming unfocused. Dominique felt a furthering of weight and made bold choice of forced warrant. Leaning down carefully, the Lieutenant gathered kindred, making motion to Dupris for the surgery below. As they passed the helm, Lamaire paused and issued orders that as soon as possible, courses should be set for 14 degrees North by 61 degrees West.

The Helmsman nodded acknowledgment, "Oui, Lieutenant."

He watched after their departure, then scanned forward areas. The broken mast plunged over 'wale with the last binding severed. The decks swarmed with the action and counter-action of repairs that could be done, others would have to wait.

A secretive smile hinted the man's expression as he considered destination requested.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

The trio arrived topside, and many paused momentarily in their work to look upon the strange group. For indeed they did make quite a sight, two marines of The Royal Navy dressed in full uniform and an Irish castaway in a blanket. The Redlegs set his face to a serious tone and strode ahead of his companions to where the Doctor waited. Stopping in front of her with a smart click of his boot heels he rendered a sharp salute, then cleared his throat and loudly announced

"Corporal Nathan Bly and Miss Murin McDonough", as if they were a couple attending a grand ball.

He then stood ramrod straight at attention by the Surgeon's side while the two approached. Nathan couldn't help but fall over laughing on the deck at Bill's antics. Bill feigned shock at his friends behavior and chided

"Come now man, that is simply not how one behaves when escorting a young lady, on your feet!"

Nathan simply howled with laughter

"C'mon Billy, stop it m'sides are beginin' to ache"

At this point Bill ceased his play acting and helped his mate off the deck and then the three of them joined Jacquelyn at the rail.

[William Brand]

William watched the trio as they arrived on deck and wondered if the Doctor had asked the Marine to join her in her duties, with Chanault gone to shore, or if Mister Flint had volunteered. With his companion on the mend, and given his recent losses, William was prepared to give the man some leeway, though the scene that played out on the deck caused his jaw to set a little.

As they walked to the rail, William made his way to the edge of the quarterdeck where he stood with his hands behind his back.

"Mister Bly." He said in a tone that was patient, but not a little dark. "Any man able to make the decks on his own two feet is fit for duty. If that same man is unable to keep his feet due to foolery, with or without drink...he is fit for the cable tier. Do I make myself perfectly clear."

Nathan sobered at once. "Aye, Captain."

"Thank you, Mister Bly." He tipped his hat the smallest bit to Murin and he returned to his chosen place of watch. His eyes were ever bent towards Los Hermanos.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The Surgeon's back was turned to the Holy Ground as William relayed his announcement. Keeping her expression neutral, Jacquelyn picked out the subtle nueances in his relay that furthered her earlier thoughts. Turning to the trio, she smiled apologeticly and made attempt to lighten the mood.

"Miss McDonough, I see that your isle companion chose to stay below. Perhaps your hiatus away from the finer things has become a haint to her desires...Never the less, we shall progress forward."

She looked over the blanket outerwear considering.

" I shall do what I can to accommodate more appropriate adornments, though you may be forced into those of more male oriented manner. I am sure that you will find such more desireable to petticoats and cumbersome skirts."

Jacquelyn turned to Nathan, slowly taking in his shrouding of wool crimson and nodded approvingly.

"Mister Bly, I must say that you are quite handsome in regimentary trappings. I am more than certain that yourself, as well as Mister Flint, are evermuch the stir at formal soiree's. It must be the downfall of the young misses to be in your company in said surrounds."

The Surgeon smiled knowingly then focused on Bill, "Mayhaps some tea or warmed cider of spiced nature would suit this outing, monsieur. I shall leave such to your discreations."

Glancing over shoulder to where William held reign, she contemplated briefly his posturing.

"Please enjoy yourselves, but do not over extend your stay in the elements... and if you should feel chilled, please return below. You will excuse me, there is a matter that I must attend to."

Parting from their company, she gained the quarterdeck and William's proxy. Jacquelyn said nothing at first, choosing to stand by silently to observe the hard set of the Captain's jawline and the intense focus delivered to the island. She cleared her throat softly then stepped to his side, keeping her sightline squared to the disruption of land.

"Doctor."

"Captain." Jacquelyn replied then hesitated to go further, choosing her words with care.

"Permission to speak, sir?"

William turned slightly, fixing her with an odd expression at the formality she purveyed, "Continue, please."

"I wish to voice my concern for you..." Her verbose was kept in hushed tone.

The Captain eyed her, his expression hinting at bemusement, "Concern, Doctor? What concern might that be? And please discontinue the formality, we are much beyond things of that nature."

"Very well..." Jaquelyn gave a minute nod of accord. "I well understand the pressures of command and the great anxieties involved regarding those who are in the away parties....never the less..."

"Never the less? Please go on."

"It appears to me that there is more troubling you than what is obvious, William. Perhaps I am being bold in such assumptions, but I cannot say that my interpertations are in error. As my station dictates and more so as a friend, I wish to know what whispers in the wind to cause such unease."

The deepend green of expressive sight watched him closely as finale words played to his hearing...

[William Brand]

It had taken her a number of questions to completely capture his attention, but now that she had it, he turned to her. He looked past her at the trio still gathered at the rail.

"Mister Bly was out of line. He may be in your charge, Doctor, but I will not allow him to act the..." She was shaking here head, so he let the sentence die off.

"Non, Capitaine. Il n'est pas celui."

Nigel Brisbane was returning from the galley and William waved him off, so that the Quarterdeck might remain private. He fixed her with a look that said 'Continue'.

"Is it more than the crew ashore? Is it something else, perhaps?"

He smiled a little and regarded the deck a moment before raising his eyes again. He looked out to sea, first at Los Hermanos and then in the general direction of the Northeast, and finally, back to her.

"To be completely honest, Doctor, I do not know. I am certainly concerned for my men out there." he said with a nod towards Los Hermanos. "The rest...well...perhaps it is nothing more than phantasms. Too much damp in these too weathered joints."

She regarded him with a tilt of her head. It was an affectation he liked on her. The way she would repeat a question with silence, but for a look or a change of posture. Knowing she wouldn't except anything so vague, he continued.

"Call it a feeling. The old and ofttimes reminder of a thousand close calls. By the pricking of my thumb and all that that implies."

This produced a smile on her that he also appreciated.

"I do not know what I am feeling. I am distracted by many things at once, but one I cannot name. If there is something out there...something on the wind, I am too removed from the source to say what it may be. It may be nothing. I...hope it is nothing." He smiled a moment, and the smile widened in the silence. "I am just vain enough to believe my life is still wrought with omens. The imaginations of a pauper elevated by this temporary promotion."

[Pew]

For the first time, hearing the Captain's steward speak in more than a "Yes sir" or in an acknowledgement to the Captain's orders, each man had stopped what they were doing so as to not only listen, but hear what the young woman was saying.

"Does that answer your curiosity, sir? Feel free to ask away if it does not?" She said with an indulgent grin.

"Aye me lady. Does well at that. But ye 'avta 'ide b'hind a name, eh? Or is the name 'iding b'hind you?"

Silence fell over the small crew of the Watch Dog assembled there on a remote beach in the middle of the Carribbean Sea. Each man looked at each other and then to myself and then the Steward. Summoning all I had, I let out a laugh that nearly scared Owen right off his rock. Ajayi joined and some could say it sounded like cannon fire there that afternoon on the east beach of Los Hermanos.

The smile once again connected across the face of Miss Smith like the dawn of a new day. Seeing the tresses fall upon her face, still damp from the morning's rain, gave me to look at her in a new light.

"Right then lads, and Miss Smith" smiling again, she tucked the hardtack into the satchel "we should get a move on since Mr. Lasseter 'll be waitin on us..."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She smiled and nodded, and lifted herself off the sand bank she had been sitting on. "Yes, best get a move one." She said taking a moment to brush away some clinging sand. Looking around, she cleared her throat, a little nervously, suddenly realised she had actually told more about herself then she had ever expected to.

She took the lead again, following the path intrepidly, her keen eyes taking in every detail of the shoreline they followed.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin giggled at the antics of the two men in red until the captains voice boomed down upon them. He kindly tipped his hat to her but she felt guilt in having participated in the behavior that led to Nathan's admonishment, her attentions were quickly directed to the deck beneath her feet.

The doctors blithe words cut through the brief tension. Murin looked to the slight but strong woman in front of her, her brow furrowed in response to the surgeons words in regards to Ana. The lady seemed to be absent from herself taking nourishment only at the urging of others and sleeping the majority of the time. Murin reminded herself again, that Ana was exposed to life as never before. She just needed time to adjust, to recover.

Her head nodded in agreement and she smiled in appreciation for the Lady's offer for more appropriate clothing. She knew that slops used by most sailors were much more comfortable and useful aboard a vessel. She had in the past gone out with the village fishing boats to tend the nets. Long skirts were a nuisance on board.

She felt her own face blush lightly at Dr. Fitzgerald's assessment of Mr. Bly in his bright red coat. She had noted his comely appearance as he donned the coat thinking as he did how he looked like the gentlemen of court and at the estate. Conflicting emotions played at her. Such a gentleman is above her station. Such a man is not gentle at all! She was ...is a worthy woman. She had survived as well as any man could have! She was a formidable woman at one time ....three long years ago, before ...she stopped her thoughts and swallowed hard as she checked her thoughts. These were not the people whom had subjected her to such treatment and not at all so cruel. Murin looked up at Nathan's face and noted the humble look in his eye in response to the surgeons comment. Not so pompous as those "gentlemen" either. She hugged herself, fate had landed her safely in the hands of good people.

A warm drink did sound wonderful but she would not be so bold as to ask for such a service. This she could do for herself. She had found the galley easily enough the day before. No, she would wait.

Murin stepped to the rail and leaned forward. She looked out over the choppy water, so dark blue beneath the ship. She closed her eyes, the corners of her mouth turned up to a smile as she faced into the wind amazed that there could be such a chill in the air after so many days in the hot sun on LaBlanquilla. (She had made note of the name she had heard the others speak.) Such a beautiful sounding name for such a hostile place. The blood in her left hand still pumped hard reminding her of the little islet and its sparse but wicked vegetation. The damp chill in the air took her home to the North Eastern reaches of Ireland where she had grown up. She lingered there, letting the memory wash over her. The wind tugged her auburn tinged brown curls allowing tendrils to cling to her face. Nathan, Bill, Dr. Fitzgeraled even the WatchDog beneath her faded from her mind. Her blanket fluttered in the wind and peace surrounded her ...for the most part.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

She regarded him with a tilt of her head. It was an affectation he liked on her. The way she would repeat a question with silence, but for a look or a change of posture. Knowing she wouldn't except anything so vague, he continued.

"Call it a feeling. The old and ofttimes reminder of a thousand close calls. By the pricking of my thumb and all that that implies."

This produced a smile on her that he also appreciated.

"I do not know what I am feeling. I am distracted by many things at once, but one I cannot name. If there is something out there...something on the wind, I am too removed from the source to say what it may be. It may be nothing. I...hope it is nothing." He smiled a moment, and the smile widened in the silence. "I am just vain enough to believe my life is still wrought with omens. The imaginations of a pauper elevated by this temporary promotion."

Jacquelyn regarded him steadily, understanding most of the demons come to call and speculating on others. When she finally spoke, there was a sense of irony in her verbose, " Il c'est dilemme centenaire... She glanced to the landfall, " The age old dillemma, my friend."

The Surgeon turned, using the rail as support to lithe frame, " You have seen more in this smattering of months than most see in a lifetime. When one is exposed to the indecencies and injustices that prey upon the unsuspecting, it tends to jade some part of the soul."

Crossing her arms over chest and cocking her head just to the right, Jacquelyn narrowed one eye as if trying to visualize some unseen thing.

"You are a good man, William. I have rarely witnessed such unerroring judgement and you have a great gift in the ways of compassion. I do believe that whatever Fate has in the wings for you, its' outcome will be fair and just. You have heart and intelligence, the combination, I assure you, has gained you favor in the overall balance of things to come. Some are born to greatness, others have to work to gain their place. But in either case, there is always a price to be paid..."

The Surgeon looked past him to the water view across opposit side, " I believe that your dues are paid near in full."

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Flint cleared his throat and regarded his companions.

"Well then Mister Bly, tis nearly my watch and I must divest meself of this peacocks finery. I'll leave you to attend our young miss here. Mind ye now that neither of you stays over long in this weather."

Thus exscusing himself he proceeded below decks to remove his uniform and attend to the patients in the surgery before taking his watch.

[William Brand]

William watched her watching the water for a moment without saying a word. Compliments were strange animals and he had never known how to wrestle with them in conversation. He always felt a simultaneous hydra of emotions; of heads humble and arrogant. It was true that he possessed no small vanity. He always had. And even while she complimented him, some small part of himself nodded in agreement and it shamed him just a little to think what Mahdi might have thought of his pride then. He laid this thought aside, for while he understood enough about himself to recognize his own vanities, he was not an outspoken peacock to be sure. He never sought the stage of public life. In fact, he was genuinely flattered by the Doctor's words and humbled at her absolutisms of his character.

It was an uncommonly nice gift to hear someone else recognize what he had unjustly endured some undeserved treatment in is life. He was unable to voice his appreciation to her just then, any more than he could have given his earlier unease any definition. Her compliments were such, that he would not have traded them for a land grant from the Pope at that moment.

It is strange what moments we enjoy in a life of so many delights, appetites and comforts. We sometimes stand in a patch of sunlight and find it more favorable in its minute warmth than an entire summer of sunlit days.

This was one of those moments.

"Thank you." was all he managed after a protracted silence, and he saw that she understood how much he meant it.

"Mais naturellement, mon ami." she returned.

They watched the same patch of surf and shore for a time without saying much. Then they began to make occasional comments about those men ashore and eventually the conversation turned to the surgery and those living in it at present. She described each patient's injuries and rate of recovery with the clear and practiced tone of a doctor, confident in her diagnosis. They were captains of two helms then, one of sea and one of surgery.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Cave interrior, Los Hermanos isle

Once all were across the tidal pool, Mr. Lasseter began to delve deeper into the cave. the upward sloping tunnel was slipppery and he kept a hand on the wall for safety. He slipped once or twice, but finally gained the top of the slope, which was only about fifteen feet. At the top was the blowhole, which was no more than a foot across. If he had a way to get up higher, he could have put his head up through it.

"A'right lads... here be th' blowhole... mayhaps we c'n figure where it is from th' topside later... might be useful... Keep up wi' me, no time ta waste...."

He turned to look deeper into the cave and saw in the illumination of his torch that the passage only went a further twenty feet in and seemed to end. Once young Godfrey was at hisa side he continued forward. Once they reached the back wall he turned around and looked back at the men now cresting the incline.

"A'right Lads... seems this's it.... spread about, feel th' walls... gotta be somat more..."

Several heads nodded and all the men began searching the cave walls for whatever they might find...

[Pew]

Southeast Beach of Los Hermanos

The excitement of finding something valuable to the crew along the shore had subsided.

Maurice had begun to pick up various flat rocks and try to skim them across the gentle rolling waves of the shoreline. Owen and Harold had continued to bicker about everything they could disagree about; weapons, who is the better shot, which island has the better looking women, and who was the best rower aboard ship. Of course it came down to the two of them to which they would not decide. Ajayi continued to laugh and smile at the childishness, not really understanding the conversation, but knowing to well the simplicity of the two men and their foolishness. Cut-throat had lagged behind quite a bit. He paced himself well among the scrub cactus and hard thorned bushes atop many of the dunes. Once seeing something glinting sunlight under the shorebreak he raced to the water's edge only to find it was merely rocks or some jetsam that had drifted down shore from the wreckage.

The Captain's Steward had stopped quite frequently to draw some parchment out of her satchel and to write small notes and sketches of various pieces of wreckage and their placement upon the island. I had watched her do this several times and never bothered to ask to see her work. Interested, but still pre-occupied by the two boys arguing like brothers, I tried to remind myself to catch her in the act again. I climbed atop one of the dunes and pulled out my spyglass to see if I could find the watch Dog and Mr. Lasseter's crew ashore.

The sun had begun to shine brightly overhead, and the humidity began to stick to us like the many jams Mr Gage had prepared us in the galley. A light offshore breeze tried to arrest the temperature, but was fighting a losing battle. The day continued in earnest....

[Dorian Lasseter]

Cave interrior, Los Hermanos

All the men searched the walls of the back of the cave, finding nothing but moss, crabs, and coral. After searching the whole area twice, they all stood and looked at the QuarterMaster for answers.

"Well Lads... this got me in a quandary... m'gut tells me there be more ta this, but we ain't found more... An' we dinna come all this way fer naught... Gimme a moment ta think... take yer ease, lads..."

The men looked glum, even slightly upset. All but Chanault sat down on the sandy cave floor. Mr. Lasseter slowly walked around the space holding his torch high, stopping on occasion to look intently at some feature of the rock, then moving on. Chanault stood and watched the man move about, his own mental wheels turning, remembering what information he held, trying to scry what alluded them. Mr. Lasseter finally stopped his wandering and stood looking back out through the cave. Woodington, in a fit of anger tossed his torch at the back wall, where it bounced and sprayed some sparks, coming to rest at the base of the wall. Smyth smacked him in the shoulder.

"Wot in 'ell'd ye do 'at fer!"

This commotion brought the QuarterMaster swiftly over where he stood over the men with a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Enough o' tha'... now ain't th' time ta get hot under th' collar... You, go take up yer torch afore I use yer head as one..."

Smyth backed himself up against the cave wall and Woodington sheepishly crawled over to where the torch lay. He reached for it and stopped, just froze and stared.

"Mister Lasseter, sir.... come look at this..."

Dorian let out a hiss of breath, then stepped closer. Woodington was pointing to the torches flame that dances to and fro, mimmicking the movement of the waves outside. Barely visible was what looked to be a horizontal crack in the rock near the floor that air was ebbing and flowing out of, causing the torch to waver.

"I'll be damned... there is more... looks like yer wee fit there helped us out... Now, go back out ta Styles, bring back all th' spades... looks like we dig..."

"Aye, sir!"

All the faces lit up at the discovery and Smyth even scrabbled over and started digging with his hands, opening the passage further. He almost got pulled away from it when his line jerked. Woodington forgot they were tied together and in his rush remained that way until the line ended. The others laughed at this as he untied himself and continued out.

By the time he returned with the tools, Smyth had widened the gap almost big enough for Godfrey to squeeze through.

"A'right Smyth, ye done well, take yer ease while Woodington, and you Marchande, start up wi' th' spades..."

They nodded and proceeded to clear away more and more sand...

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Chanault watched from the chosen spot he had claimed and not moved from since the small part's arrivale. Within cranial shell, the steady click of thought process continued to churn. Something was nagging his instincts; something not quite tangible whispered to inner ear and was causing a feeling of ill-ease that would never show on placid features. A mild irritation began to stir in the pit of his soul, and though never one to be overly superstitous, he was unable to quell the red flags that were rising.

The pale sights travelled the surrounding area to capture some indication as to his instinctual rousings. But whatever was on the wind, it did not give showing here and Raphael deduced that the origin did not rest within these coral walls. Turning away from the labor taking place nearby, the young Frenchman slipped from chamber's encompasment, returning to the deep pool near cavern entrance.

He squated near ragged edge, tuning out the sounds reverberating from behind. A chill ran through core being, a chill that in one and twenty years, signified only one thing. Standing to full heigth, The Sphinx crossed make shift bridge, retracing his steps to the beach head and clear view of the sea.

Walking the immediate curve of sand borders, veiled observation was made from the shadowing of wide brim. Reaching outward with fine tuned senses, he made effort to grasp what triggered the foreboding. Returning to former Banyan throne, he paused in its' shade to contemplate the matter further, when suddenly his attention was drawn North and East.

Something was out of place, and he paled when suddenly the pieces fell into proper order. Removing battered chapeau , he looked to the damp sand below in respect and loss...

"Et a' l'heure actuelle...Je suis le Roi du Chats...."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Cave interior, Los Hermanos

As the two men dug and the others watched in anticipation as the hole grew in size, all was quiet except for the sounds of spades in sand and the surf outside. Once the hole was of a reasonable size, Mr. Lasseter had the lads stand down and rest.

"Excellent work... Now, Young Patrick, time ta show a bit o' backbone... Here, take m' torch an' a pistol and see what there is ta see..."

Godfrey smiled a nervous smile as he took both items offered, looked around at the others for support which was given with a pat on the shoulder by Merchande, a gentle punch in the arm by Woodington and a firm but warm smile by the QuarterMaster. He then crawled in with the torch stretched before him. Soon he was in to the point that Mr. Lasseter had to untie the line that bound them together, giving him ample line to continue. Eventually the line stopped moving and a hollow sounding voice was heard.

"I made it through sir! It's a big room... I don't see any treasure..."

"Well done lad! No worries about not finding treasure! We gonna widen th' hole a bit more, then see what there be when we get there... Just hold fast now!"

"Alright Mister Lasseter!"

With that the QuarterMaster gestured to the men with the spades and they set off again, widening the hole even more.

After a short time another holler was heard, but from the cave entrance.

"Mister Lasseter, sir! The tide! It's commin' in fast! I think you better come out! Sir!"

"Damn... A'right, Chanault… Were’d Chanault go? Marchande go now... Godfrey! Get back out here now! Tides comin' in!"

Marchande didn't take a second to follow the order, bounding away out to the cave’s mouth. Soon a disheveled Mr. Godfrey appeared from the hole empty handed and wild eyed.

"Right, the rest o' ye move it!"

Woodington and Smyth turned and quickly made their way to the top of the rise and started down. About half way down, Smyth got tripped up in their line and bowled into Woodington causing them both to roll to the bottom and almost into the tidal pool. Mr. Lasseter skidded down the incline and helped them up and untangle themselves as young Godfrey slid down on his backside. Dorian sent them across the log one at a time, him being the last to do so, just as the tide tossed a wave into the cave mouth.

"Hurry! Tide's quick!"

Styles and Tucker had already made their way up onto the sea wall and were helping Merchande up as Woodington and Smyth exited the cave. As they were half way up the ramp a large wave swept up and almost took them off the shore. It did however blast into the cave, sending Godfrey and Mr. Lasseter back inside.

As the wave receded, the last line retreated with it, out into the ocean. Styles pointed and yelled,

"That's Mister Lasseter and Godfrey's line! They been swept out! Come on lads! Pull 'em in, pull 'em in!"

All hands took hold of the line and began to fight the tide. They saw young Godfrey flail in the water, but did not see the QuarterMaster. They kept hauling on the line til the young powder monkey was on dry land, but were at a loss as to what happened to Mr. Lasseter.

"Godfrey! Where's Mister Lasseter? What happened?" Styles screamed into the boys face as he choked on seawater.

"I...(cough)..I don't know! He was right behind me when th' wave hit us..."

[William Brand]

The conversation between the Captain and the Ship's Surgeon had turned to a silence that was as much a part of the conversation as the words had been. They watched the seemingly peaceful shore for a time when two things happened almost at once. First, William noted, even without the aid of the spyglass, that a commotion had begun on shore. A subtle one.

Someone came from the cave entrance for tools and went down again before William could accurately determine who it was.

The wind continued while the next bell came and went. They passed the time touching on no particular subject, content to let the conversation go where it would. Little changed ashore until another figure returned to the sunlit beach. William raised the glass and recognized Chanault at once. The man's features were too removed by distance to be perceived, but after a time the man bowed his head and William was left to wonder what this meant. He had scarce begun to ponder on this when he felt the slightest tug under his feet. He gave this no more notice than any other elements working upon the Watch Dog, unaware that the tide had shifted again toward Los Hermanos.

"They have been beneath the island for some time." William said aloud. His tone was matter-of-fact, and brooked no concern, but he watched Chanault just the same to see what the man might do next.

"Oui." she replied, equally nonplused.

Then a commotion played out on the beach which lasted only a little while, but played out for what seemed like hours. The wind, which had been strong all afternoon, carried back a solitary cry...

"The Tide!"

What followed was a tremendous tension played out in the mortal mathematics of men and the sea. Men, already above the subterranean depths of Los Hermanos, sprung into action at the cave entrance. William gripped the glass a little, noting the way in which they moved, careful to watch their body language. They appeared concerned, even from her and he counted each disappearance and reappearance with a calm that required a sheer force of will. He noted that the good Doctor had lost all of her conversation as she joined him in his stoic dance of nerves. Neither of them spoke a word, but William glanced up to the watches from time to time as Ciaran sounded of the names from his high vantage point on the main mast.

"Marchande...! Smyth...! Woodington...!"

The tally was coming too slow for everyone aboard the Watch Dog, yet it continued.

"Tucker!"

"Styles!"

Everyone capable of watching the shore and discerning the activity there, watched as all the men above the water suddenly went down to the sea in a rush. At this distance it was nearly impossible to tell what to make of it. It seemed from their vantage point that all the men had suddenly decided it was in their best interest to go swimming, but this notion was proved as ridiculous as it appeared, for they scrambled up again with young Godfrey on the end of a trailing line.

Then three words drifted back, almost swallowed up by the noise of the sea.

"Where's Mister Lasseter?"

William did not look at Tempest. She did not look at the Captain. William simply reached over and covered her hand on the rail with his. He did not squeeze it in a reassuring manner, nor did he take it in his. He simply placed his hand over her's for a moment. It was a mortal gesture. Small. Human. But when he took away his hand and turned to towards the stem, he was anything but small.

He went forward and without the aid of a speaking trumpet he sent his word down among the masses.

"ALL MEN ON DECK TO THE WINDLASS! PREPARE TO STAND IN MISTER BADGER! BARGE CREW AMIDSHIPS!"

They went, everyone to their duty. Not one wavered. William noted that even Nathan and Murin left the deck, too aware that they could offer nothing but added confusion had they stayed at the rail. It was they who discovered the second great occurrence of the day. While all of this commotion had played out on the weatherdecks and ashore, a smaller, but no less important tragedy had played out in the relative quiet of the surgery.

Ana, the high borne and educated lady of some three languages and no small fortune...the elegant, but recently wilted flower...had crossed into the undiscovered country from whence no traveller may return.