The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

"Very well, Miss McDonough." William said with a grateful smile. "Thank you for shouldering this new responsibility so soon. Mister Lasseter will see you stowed in new quarters only after the Doctor releases you to duties. Until then, you may keep your bunk in the surgery and you are welcome to draw from the larder in anticipation of your new place aboard ship. Once you become familiar with those responsibilities as sail mender, Mister Badger will require you to learn the ropes aboard ship. Everyone is required to understand the greater duties of the able seamen in addition to their own individual callings."

He paused a moment and added, "Do you have any questions, Miss McDonough?"

[Silkie McDonough]

"Shouldering the responsibility!" She laughed "Tis goode t'b permitted t'work m'passage t'da next port." She would be more than glad to earn her keep.

"What port will ya b'taken m'to?" She feared finding herself in a British port. The chance of being returned as an escape convict was a real possibility. She did not suspect that the captain or anyone she had met on the ship would offer her up to the British but once on land, without proper papers, she would have to be careful. Not that she would fare much better at some port where English or Gaelic were not spoken but she could make do ...she hoped.

[William Brand]

"I believe you have misunderstood me, Miss McDonough. You are not working for passage, unless you wish to be dropped off the next port. I need a tailor and a sail maker. When I reach the next port, I will need a tailor and a sail maker. When I leave that port, I will require a tailor and a sail maker."

Miss Smith smiled as she made her notations. William sipped his drink a moment, but before Murin could speak, he continued.

"If you choose to stay aboard as the ship's sail maker and tailor, you will receive your board, food from the galley and your fair portion when shares are divided among the crew after goods are shipped and sold. In addition to this, you will be entitled to the same joys, experiences, dangers, perils and diseases that all of us come in contact with. I cannot guarantee that every day will be an adventure, but this life comes with the promise of freedom fraught with an enlightening education of life in all of its bounties."

William raised his glass, "Slainte mhath!"

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin sat in stunned silence trying to grasp all that such an agreement and life would encompass. There was little left of her life in Ireland, hopefully her mother, sister-in-law and nephew. Undoubtedly her brother had faired no better than she and would most likely be laboring in some British colony in indentured servitude, IF he was still alive. She could not go back to Cushendun and remain free. She did not have the papers required to guarantee her freedom on land. This man was offering her the opportunity to live her life as she choose. An offer to join the crew? She had thought fleetingly of that possibility at some time in the past two days but hadn't given it serious consideration.

Murin blinked and managed to request, "A moment please?" as her thoughts darted considering the ramifications of this offer. The captains words resonating in her mind, "I cannot guarantee that every day will be an adventure, but this life comes with the promise of freedom fraught with an enlightening education of life in all of its bounties." Freedom and education. Clearly the thought of joining the crew had been dancing in the back of her mind. What other reason would she have had to lift the cutlass in the surgery that morning? There was much she could learn on this vessel. She began to consider her love of the sea. The times that she and Aiden had taken a skiff out on the water. She was always found on the shores enjoying the water. Swimming into the the salty chill when the waters were warm enough. Here the waters were always warm enough. She could think of no better place to live her life than free on the seas.

She looked directly into the captains eyes, her chapped lips in a wide smile. "Sea! a mháistir! Go raibh míle maith agat!"* She lifted her glass in a toast took it to her lips and drained the remaining contents.

*"Yes sir! 1,000 thanks to you"

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Eighth bell of the watch had recently past and Mr. Lasseter still held the deck. He had not moved from the spot he claimed as his own since returning to the ship, aside from occasionally sitting on 'Old Roger's' truck. FInally he decided to quell the grumbling in his gut.

"Mister Badger, I'll be in th' Galley fer a spell... Th' deck is yours til I return..."

"Aye Sah..."

Mr. Badger knuckled his forehead and took station next to the helm as the QuarterMaster tried with some success to appear perfectly fine as he headed to the waist and aft to the Galley. As he was about to open the galley door he heard a toast exclaimed in Gaelic coming from the Wardroom. This peeked his curiosity, but the gnawing in his gut overcame it. Heading into the Galley he greeted Mr. Gage and others of the crew fresh off the watch. He stood in line with them, waving away offers for him to jump ahead. He got the same fare as the rest of them, a bowl of oatmeal, ships biscuit, but took hot chocolate instead of coffee. He made his way out of the Galley, preferring some open space on deck to eat, the time in the cave still sharp in his mind. He settled on the main hatch grating and looked back at the quarterdeck, motioning to Mr. Badger to carry on.

He got comfortable and slowly ate, savoring the common fare as if it were a kings feast. Finished with the oatmeal and biscuit, he nursed his drink for a while.

As he sat, enjoying the bit of leasure time he allowed himself, he noticed three of the lads at the forecastle hatch confering and occasionally looking his way. Finally, they walked towards him. It was Styles, Tucker, and young Godfrey. All of them wore an odd expression on their faces. As they approached him he began to rise to his feet.

Mr. Sytles spoke first,

"Mister Lasseter, sir... tis good ta see ye so well... We uh, we found somethin' of yers that we thought ye might be wantin' back... "

Godfrey stepped between Styles and Tucker, holding the QuarterMaster's hat that they plucked from the surf as they searched for him earlier.

Dorian looked at the hat, battered and worn, yet looking better that it had when he last saw it. slowly he reached out and took it.

"Why... Thankee lads... Tha's grande of ye... tha's... thankee..."

"We tried ta clean it up an' fix it right afore we got it back to ye...."

Tucker said apologetically.

"Oh, ye done fine.... ye done just fine there... A finer crew I never did know in all my years... Thank you lads...."

He turned it over and looked into the crown, then placed it onto his head. It fit well as it always had. Nodding he placed a hand on each man's shoulder and tossled the hair of the boy.

"Thankee kindly lads... makes me proud of ye... Now... back ye go ta yer off time... I must be off as well..."

The lads looked at each other and smiled, then knuckled their forelocks and turned away. Dorian watched them for a moment more, then took up his empty bowl to return it to the Galley...

[William Brand]

"Thank you for considering the matter, Miss Murin. When the Doctor has released you to duties we will have work waiting for you."

They parted company, not that he asked her to leave. He bid her stay and pass the time with Tudor as he went to the Quarterdeck. There he found Mister Badger and they stood together, sometimes sitting leaning on the raised edge of the poop deck. At first they were content to talk of the ship's progress, but then William turned the matter to the Ilex Fortune, now their fortune.

"The Ilex Fortune...no. That is not correct. Our Fortune is considerable."

Mister Badger smiled at this. "Aye. Our fortune indeed."

"And perhaps at a time when my position might have become tenuous."

"Cap'n?"

William smiled and swept his hand about the deck, gesturing to the crew, but then he didn't elaborate. He just shook his head. Mister Badger nodded after a moment. They had both served in the Royal Navy at one time and understood that a crew's long term loyalties must sometimes be paid for in fortunes or bounties. William had been fortunate so far with the Danzig and the Ilex Fortune. Each encounter had yielded goods and currency. It was enough for now, but William wondered how long their appetites would be satisfied. Would former pirates like Johnson be content for the infrequent wages of a merchant ship or a petty smuggling operation? He couldn't be sure.

The promontory which held the last of the Watch Dog's crew loomed in the distance.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Watch Dog off Los Hermanos

First Bell of the Forenoon Watch

The QuarterMaster returned his bowl and tankard to the Galley with much thanks to Mr. Gage, then turned and headed back on deck. When he arrived at the base of the quarterdeck stairs, he noted the Captain had appeared and all was in hand, so he retreated back belowdecks. Down the passage he went and into his quarters. Once there he sat at his desk and relaxed. He rubbed his left leg and gingerly checked the bandage on his left arm. All seemed well, but his injuries were still quite sore. He removed his hat, smiled again at the thought of the crew returning it as they had. Laying it on the desk, he decided it was time overdue to see the Surgeon, not just for the tending of his wounds. He stood again and winced, his hip was bruised worse than first thought. He opened the door to the passageway and there before him was the door to Jaquelyns private chambers, the quarters of the Surgeon... He stepped out into the passage, then rapt sharply on the door, waiting for the answer to enter to issue forth...

[William Brand]

July 20, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Mister Badger and the Captain continued to make slight alterations on the Watch Dog's course. Each of them haf become so used to the way it sailed, that Mister Badger sometimes predicted William's next order. William didn't mind. He liked a Bosun that didn't have to be prodded along. The Farthingale's bosun had been little more than a puppet, and everyone aboard that ship had despised taking orders from such a man.

William, lost in his thoughts, still noted peripherally that Mister Badger was looking at him whenever he turned away.

"Is something the matter, Mister Badger." he said without looking at him.

"No, sah. It's just...your neck, Cap'n."

William nodded, brushing his hand behind his ear. A scab of blood had reformed where he had washed. It was a small cut. Then he tested his neck where it was roughly rope burned.

"It looks much worse than it feels, I assure you."

"Then, if I may so, it can't feel too good."

William smiled and nodded. "All in a days work."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Surgery, Aboard the Watch Dog

The door opened and Dorian turned to face Monseur Chanault. He paused a moment before speaking.

"I had 'orders' to report ta th' goode Doctor when th' ship were at her new anchorage... w have yet ta be there, but I am not needed on deck presently, so...."

Monseur Chanault gave one slow nod, then stood aside allowing the QuarterMaster entry into the chamber. The room was empty of any other person. Chanault quietly answered the unasked question from Mr. Lasseter,

"She is attending to the others in her keep... You may wait, or I shall attend to your wounds..."

Dorian stood and his brow furrowed... he shrugged and turned to Chanault.

"Very well... my wounds 'r minor compared to others... I would be honoured..."

He sat in a familiar chair and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the old bandage to the light brought over by Raphael. He sat calmly as his bandage was removed, he woulds examined, linements applied and fresh wrappings fastened.

"Bonne.... it shows no signs of peutrification... all is well, Monseur Lasseter..."

Dorian looked up at Chanault,

"Aye.... I thank you... and please, you may call me Dorian, not that ye needed to, but you've earn'd it..."

He gave the frenchman a half cocked smile and offered his right hand to him... Chanault pricked his eyebrows and hinted at a smile, then took the offered hand.

"Merci, Dorian... "

The QuarterMaster stood then, sensing changes in the wind, again thanked the young frenchman, looked to the door between chamber and sick ward, then headed for the deck...

Just as he reached the door into the waist, the Boatswain called out to drop anchor and haul in the sails, they had reached their destination to retrieve the crew stranded on the second island in the Los Hermanos chain. Mr. Lasseter climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck, nodded to Mr. Badger and the Captain.

"I see we 'ave arrived... I feel well enough to take th' cutter o'er an' retrieve the lads ashore, an' see ta havin' the carpenter an' 'er mates repair th' St. Kitts... Have I yer permission ta carry on, Cap'n?"

[William Brand]

William weighed the Quartermaster visually and the man looked the picture of health apart from his bandages. He looked out toward Los Hermanos and the the shattered remains of the Apollo.

"Very well, Mister Lasseter. But take the fishing boat. We'll return it to the island and I'll have you ferry over Rummy, Tudor and whatever materials the Master Carpenter may require. She assures me that she can make the repairs ashore, so if Mister Pew is up for it, have him scout the Apollo wreckage before there is nothing left to salvage. We just might get lucky and discover some overlooked baggage worthy of ransom at Martinique."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"And Mister Lasseter. Brevity. There is nothing aboard that ship worth losing a man for."

[Pew]

Cut-throat stood on the point for some time waiting for any sign of a sail.

Harold, Ajayi and myself had finshed wrapping the arms in what tarpaulins we removed from the longboat. Looking about for anything of use to us aboard the Watch dog, the island was nearly bare of any vegetation save for the sprouts of prickly pear that tried to push themselves throught the rock.

"There she be," Cut-throat announced to us across the beach, "'tis the 'dog 'erself comin t'rds us."

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Aye Cap'n... no worries there...."

He knuckled his forehead to the Captain and turned away, heading slowly down the stairs to the waist, passing word for the Master Carpenter and her mates, Miss Smith and a handfull of crewmembers to head ashore. He sent word to the Armoury for eight muskets, pistols, and cutlass, his own Dragoons that hopefully were cleaned by now, and one of the two remaining unused Mortuary swords he had brought aboard the ship.

All of the lads that had been aboard the cutter stood at the ready to man the fishing boat. The QuarterMaster looked at them and the size of the small craft.

"Well lads, we ain't all gonna fit, nor are we all needed... Styles, Tucker... Marchande, and Dinwiddie, you four will do..."

Those chosen to head ashore smiled, those not shrugged and headed off to other duties. Eric Franklin came topside with the requested arms and the lads transfered all into the waiting boat, along with the supplies and tools of the carpenter's needs, while Mr. Lasseter inspected his freshly cleaned pistols and donned the new Mortuary sword, handing off his light cutlass to Mr. Franklin for safe keeping til he returned. The last to head into the boat, all were waiting as he climbed down the tumblehome and stepped into the sternsheets of the well used craft.

"A'right lads, shove off! Miss Smith, you will be in charge as you know these waters well... I 'ave th' tiller an' await yer commands..."

Miss Smith's face tinted to the red slightly as several of the men glanced her way and chuckled.

She stood then and took on a serious gaze, then went foreward into the bow with her satchel, turned and nodded to the QuarterMaster who then shouted the order to pull the oars, no sail would be set due to the nature of the wind and reefs. every so often she consulted her charts and hollered back a command, of which Mr. Lasseter shifted the tiller to meet them. Soon they were in easy hailing distance of those crewmen on shore, next to the beached hull of the St. Kitts. Dorian cupped his right hand to his mouth.

"Ahoy there! We come ta fix th' boat! I trust all is well?"

[William Brand]

July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos

Mister Pew returned the Quartermaster's hail, assuring him that all were well in his company. They had passed the night undisturbed by weather or threat and each man was well rested again.

As the Quartermaster steared the fishing boat towards the beach, the shore party went down once more and brought the boat up on land. Provisions and crew spilled out onto the sand and a short interchange followed.

While Miss Smith passed out fresh rations from the 'Dog, Mister Lasseter explained the nature of the strongbox aboard ship and the treasure found within. Each man smiled with a self satisfied greed and within minutes they were all spending their portions aloud or in the secret imaginations of their hearts. Questions about who would buy what with their share and suggestions and even jeers passed around the shore party while they ate.

The Master Carpenter, already well appraised of the fortune, went immediately to work on the cutter. She was relieved to discover her worst fears were unfounded and by the time Dorian joined her at the boat, she was already in the midst of her repairs.

"I shall be finished in no more than three hours time." she said confidently.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"I shall be finished in no more than three hours time." she said confidently.

Mr. Lasseter smiled and nodded slowly,

"Excellent... do 'er proud..."

He then turned and walked over to Mr. PEW and the others still filling their bellies.

"Well, we have roughly three hours to spend here while the St. Kitts is bein' repaired... th' fishin' boat is worthy enough t'do some explorin' o yon hulk of th' Apollo... See what else she might give up to us wi'out any trouble... Mr. PEW... you found 'er, you c'n pick a crew an' have at it if ye'd like..."

He then stood and waited for the decision from the Master-at-Arms...

[Pew]

"Aye sah. 'arold, Ajayi 'n I 'll ave' a clean sweep o' 'er."

We collected some small gear to take out to the wreck and stowed it in the fishing boat. Ropes, Ajayi's half-pike and two small boarding axes were all that was needed. Several of the rescuing crew from the Watch Dog helped us into the boat and pushed off into the dangerous reef strew breakers.

Harold had taken the tiller and Ajayi had the oars to the small fishing vessel. The Apollo was facing due west on a small reef to the southeast of this Los Hermanos archipelago. Over the several months the tide has ground her up good. Passing to the stern of the Apollo, we can see the decks have caved in due to the falling rigging.

Taking a quick sounding with some of the lines left inthe boat, we can see that aft of the ship we are in about 2 fathoms of water. Rounding the starboard side, the bottom steadily grows more shallow. Looking through the large hole in the side of the wreck we can see that the keel has shattered and was forced upward. The ship is pulverized abaft the beam.

The Apollo has not weathered the storm the tides or the wreck well, at least as well as a trader should have. She looks as if she has been there longer than she really has.

"A'right gents, bring 'er as close to the Apollo 's we can. I'm goin' aboard."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mr. Lasseter watched as the three men got underweigh, watched as they rowed out to the remains of the merchant ship. He squinted for a short time then could stand no more.

"Miss Smith..... have you a spyglass I might borrow?"

She looked at the QuarterMaster with an expression of ubsurdity,

"Of course I do.... "

He held out his hand and she looked at it a moment, then delved into her satchel, producing the glass and putting it into the outstretched hand.

"Thankee Miss Smith..."

Extending the spyglass he looked through it, adjusted the lense, and was quiet and still. He watched as the lads brought their small craft ever so closely to the battered hull of the Apollo, their hand gestures and facial expressions saying much. The boat was pulled very close to an area of the ship that was nearly level with the gunnel of their craft and Mr. Pew looked as if here were to cross onto the shattered deck.

"Have a care, m'bouyo... have great care..."

[William Brand]

July 20, 1704 - Los Hermanos and the Apollo Wreck

Between fourth and fifth bell of the Forenoon Watch

During the hour that passed aboard the frigate, the shore party was steeped in the labor of repairs and discovery.

Rummy found the damage to the cutter to be more substantial than she had expected upon her first examination, but the damage ran along the seams in ways that made her work easier. Individual board lengths were popped along the sides, but these were mended in short order and the Master Carpenter enjoyed the labor of the open air. She preferred the sunlight to the crowded work of caulking and mending below decks.

Tudor moved along the beach front facing the Apollo expedition trying to restore some of her notations from memory. The scribblings which she had lost during the cutter damage came back slowly at first, but Tudor was possessed of a good memory and they surfaced again in short order.

Meanwhile, the trio at the Apollo continued to scout the wreckage, which was substantial. The keel lay in a long line almost as it had before the wreck, but it was shattered in the middle where the reef dropped away a few feet. The mainmast, too heavy without the ship's displacement, had driven down upon the mast step and keel, breaking the back of the Apollo. The bowsprit had been twisted apart from abuse sustained by the fallen foremast and rigging. Much of the main deck was fallen in upon the lower holds, for the few cannon carried by the Apollo had been too much for the weakened superstructure.

Still, the cannon might yet be salvaged, for their materials, if not for their function, and Mister Pew smiled to find them piled neatly amidships.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Shore of Los Hermanos Archipeligo

Mr. Lasseter watched the three men in the small boat go about their searching of the shattered Apollo for a time, then called Mr. Warren over to take over his vigil. He handed over the spyglass and gave orders to call out if anything of import happened. Mr. Warren, ever the obedient lad, saluted the QuarterMaster and took his position.

Mr. Lasseter walked over the the busy Carpenter and her mates, inspected the work in progress and complimented all at hand. He then continued to walk about the shore, occasionally peering back to the hulk in the surf, and also his floating home, the Watch Dog and all within her. He saw the Captain standing in his usual place on the quarterdeck, the occasional flash of light glinting off of a spyglass being raised or removed from his eye. The crew going about daily tasks on deck and up in the rigging made him remember back to the days when he was taken aboard a ship and his only responsability was to know the ship's rig and follow the orders bellowed at him. It was a brutal time, yet also a good time in his life, which became enjoyable once he had moved up in the hiarchy of a ships' crew. He was brought back to the present when a wave came up the beach and wetted his feet. He turned away from the ship, walking back inshore to the rest of the crew ashore. He picked up a bottle that had been knocked over and uncorked it, the scent of rum filled his nose and he smiled. Bringing it to his lips he took a long pull, shoved the cork back into the mouth and set it upright where he had found it. The burn of the liquid down his throat felt good, the flavour lingered in his mouth and he smiled a harsh smile.

[Pew]

The fishing boat was brought alongside the Apollo with as much ease as a two to three foot swell, a reef matching the swell in depth and an intermittent breeze would allow.

With a loud thud, Ajayi stored the oars and grabbed ahold of some rigging that had washed out through the large gap in the traders side. Harold pushed the tiller aside and brought our vessel larbarboard to starboard of the trading vessel. A strong breeze came up from the starboard and brought with it the stench of lost souls. In the excitement to explore the derelict ship, I had forgotten the lost sailors who had perished on this reef. While the tides and current from the channel had claimed most of the bodies, there were several more below whom had not been freed. Looking back at Harold with a nod, I stood on the gun'le of the tiny fishing boat and took a leap into the large hole on the hull of the Apollo.

Trying to grasp some of the rigging and gain a foothold in the vessel, I slipped, lost my footing and came down upon my shin squarely. Holding on to the rigging, I was away to swing my legs into the hole and grasp the edges of the wreck. Looking back for the fishing boat still near the Apollo, I could see Harold in the stern doubled over in laughter at my grande entrance.

As far as I could tell the section of the ship I was standing on was formerly the berth deck. Many hammock were strewn about and what I could distinguish as some of the crew's personal effects littered the deck. Looking below, I could see several cannon neatly deposited below for later extrication. The sun had shone threw many of the holes where the rigging had fallen and deposited itself below decks. Each crash to the side of the wreck by the surf generated off of the reef gave a new groan to the ship. Time was most fleeting in this simple exploration.

Stepping delicately across the deck I find several boxes marked "tobacco" swashing across the deck. Another wash of the tide brings them to a stop right at my feet. Opening them I find several small hand carved scrimshaw pipes. "A nice find for the Quartermaster and Captain perhaps..." I say as I stow them in my small satchel.

Moving slowly to the stern holding onto waht rigging and hammocks have held up I find the ladder stairs to go below. With the wreck listing awkwardly only some of the hold is still above the waterline. Taking a deep breath, I move a few steps down the ladder and peer into the hold. Covering my mouth and nose with my shirtsleeve, I find the origin of the smell. "Poor sots..."

From what I could see there in the hold, several slaves must have been forced below during the storm to man the pumps on the trader. They were unable to release themselves from the grasp of the Apollo as she ground herself upon the reef.

Back to the top of the stairs I try to make my way forward to see if anything was left from the storm.

"MISTER PEW" I hear from outside of the gaping the hole, "MISTER PEW" I make my way back to my entry port and see Harold waving one hand above his head. Waving back I put my hands to my ears. "MISTER LASSETER 'PPEARS TA BE WAVIN' US ASHORE" Looking west, I can see the shore party still on the archipelago, but I cannot distinguish the Quartermaster. I wave back to Harold and head to the bow.

With several noises of strain and then a crack followed by a tremendous BOOM!! I find several timbers begin to rain down upon me. Grabbing several small boxes and crates I throw them out to where I hoped the fishing boat Ajayi and Harold were but a few minutes ago Leaping out of the large gap and clutching my satchel I find the waters of the sea encircle me. Rising to the surface I see Ajayi furiously rowing towards me.

"'elp me get these crates aboard lads" I report to Harold and the Nubian. "Cap'n may wanna 'ave an'oer looksee at..." Harold tapped my shoulder and had me spin about. What was formerly a shipwrecked trader run aground on the reef was now a pile of timbers and rigging just off the second archipelago of Los Hermanos. "Damn."

[William Brand]

July 20, 1704 - The Apollo Wreckage

Even as Mister Pew was taking in the view of the Apollo, a second wave crushed in from behind it, burying the lower hold where he had been. Much of the lower wreckage was awash with water and Mister Pew was glad to be above it all. Then, just as the Master-at-Arms was taking this in, Harold Press did something so bizarre and unexpected that Mister Pew was powerless to explain it. One moment he was lifting a crate into the boat and the next he was diving over the side. He didn't fall over or lose his balance. He planted his feet together and went over the side as if on holiday. The dive itself was graceful enough that it barely disturbed the water, which of itself was not very calm. He just went over the side without a single word.

Ajayi, who was otherwise engaged for a moment in the rescue of crates, turned around again and found Mister Pew all alone in the boat. He exclaimed his surprise with some solitary expression of his own tongue that was lost to Mister Pew and almost drowned out by the surf. He joined Mister Pew at the side instantly and they stared down into the frothing sea. Neither of them could see Harold and what followed after was a string of curses from Mister Pew which Ajayi understood without actually understanding. When no explanation could be gathered from standing and swearing, Mister Pew began to strip off his clothes for an unplanned dip.

Just then, as he was about to follow Harold into the unknown, a sputtering Mister Press surfaced some seven meters off their stern. They called out to him but he went down again. This time they followed his progress as he neared the boat, but the waves carried the boat backwards a little and he came up near the bow. Harold was overcome by the pitching fishing boat as it came down almost on his head, driving him down again. Ajayi and Mister Pew leaped together but could not catch his one flailing hand. When he came up again Mister Pew yelled for his hand, but Harold just waved a clenched fist wildly about as his other hand grabbed the side. Ajayi managed to grab the man by the shoulder but the rocking almost carried him overboard.

"Give me your hand, damn you!" Mister Pew yelled again, but still he clenched his fist and only when both men together got an arm under each of his could they lift him into the boat. Harold half sat half toppled into the boat, and Mister Pew lit into him at once. Now that he was safe, the Master-at-Arms wanted to kill him.

"What the devil possessed you to...!" he began, but trailed off as Harold relaxed his hand. Seven large and very round coins spilled out into the bottom of the boat. There could be no mistaking the precious metal by the light of day. Gold.

"Hundsss...." Harold began, but a cough cut him off before he could gather himself to try again. After a moments coughing, he smiled up at them through a mop of wet hair and said, "Hundreds".

[Dorian Lasseter]

20 July, 1704

Los Hermanos Archipeligo

The QuarterMaster stood a moment longer, looking out at the hulk of the Apollo when he noticed something. Something moving that shouldn't be, or more precisely, that if it was moving it would put his men in grave danger. the bow and stump of the fore mast were moving in opposite directions every time a wave passed the wreck. This only meant one thing... the ship was breaking up even more than it already was. He began to walk faster, his bruised hip did not allow him to run, and called out to the Coxswain.

"Mister Warren! Call them away from th' wreck! She's breakin' up! Call 'em back now!"

He waved his hands as he yelled, pointing to the shifting bulk of the wreck. Mr. Warren took up the call and waved his arms about, yelling out at the crew in the fishing boat, making gestures to return to shore. When Mr. Lasseter reached him, he took the spyglass from the Coxswain and focused it on the small craft... there was only two lads aboard, then he caught sight of Mr. Pew as he jumped into the water. not a second after he jumped there was a great rending of wood, a resounding boom and the hulk of the Apollo was nothing more than shards. Dorian scanned the water to see where Mr. Pew was. There, right next to the boat he popped up. As he was being hauled aboard, Harold Press suddenly dove into the water.

"What th' devil?! Dammit all ta hell! Press's in th' water, what for I know not, and us wi'out a boat ta come ta their aid... "

He watched as the blackimoore and Mr. Pew pointed at the water, there was Harold, then he was gone. Mr. Lasseter found he was holding his breath and exhaled heavily when he surfaced at the bow of the small craft, then was hauled aboard. He couldn't hear Mr. Pew, but he knew Press was getting an earful. Something happened then that stilled the Master-at-Arms, but what Dorian did not know.

"Blast it all..."

The QuarterMaster drew one of his dragoon pistols and fired it into the air with a resounding 'boom'. As the heads of all the men around him turned, even those out on the fishing boat, he pointed at Mr. Pew and company, then gestured a very firm 'come here' to them, then shoved the spent weapon into his belt.

Mr. Pew understood well that he was just given an order, no questions tollerated.

"Quartermaster want's us back ashore.... now........... Th' rest o' tha' gold c'n wait... gonna haf'ter... unship th' oars an' lets show 'im wot ya found Harold..."

The oars were brought to bare and the boat headed into shore where the QuarterMaster stood planted with his fists on his hips.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

After finishing her notations, Tudor made herself usefull in whatever ways she could. Having already sorted out all the rations and lending her spyglass to the quatermaster, she felt at odd ends. So after drifting around between Quatermaster, Carpenter and crew, she started to drift further down the shore line, not leaving the crew out of site, intent on inspecting some larger rocks sticking out of a sand bank.

She heard the raised voices, but before she could even think about heading back down the shore, she heard the click and explosion of gunfire. Snapping her head towards the rest of the party, she saw Mr. Lasseter, motioning for Pew and his boat crew to make their way back. She quickly made her way back

[William Brand]

July 20, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between fifth and Sixth bell of the Forenoon Watch

William stood for a long time at the rail, watching Mister Lasseter as he watched the Apollo party. Despite the sunlight of the quarterdeck and his preference to remain there, other matters begged his attention. They were small matters against the backdrop of life, death and their combined and uncertain futures, but he had to see to them soon, so he called the Sergeant at Arms to the Quarterdeck.

Mister Franklin dropped his musket to his side in his usual manner as he arrived on the quarterdeck. He had a casual, but alert quality about him that William liked. He was never too tense nor too relaxed. A man of even keel. Not that he didn't have a temper or his moods, but it was often remarked of Eric Franklin that he was a 'good man' and one to be trusted. Even now he was smiling as he often did. Casual. Steady.

"Cap'n".

"Mister Franklin, please invite Jonas McCormick to the Ward Room with my compliments."

"Aye, Cap'n." Eric said with a smile that revealed little. "May I ask a question, Cap'n?"

William nodded.

"The Ilex Fortune..."

"OUR...fortune." William corrected, and Eric nodded with that same 'walk in the park' smile of his, but before Eric could elaborate on his question, William finished it for him by answering what was on the mind of all but a few. "The fortune is a large one. You may assure each man that his portion is...significant. I will explain the shares when the salvage of the Apollo is complete, though I imagine the wreckage will yield but a little addition to the strong box."

"Thank you, Cap'n." He returned with a salute before leaving the quarterdeck, gathering another man to follow him into McCormick's company.

William retired to the Ward Room to await the arrival of his guest.

[Silkie McDonough]

Several hours had passed since Murin had agreed to accept the position as tailor sail maker. She had hoped to talk to Tudor but after the captain had left she had need to finish her notations so Murin simply admired the wealth laid out on the table. Tudor, seeing Murin starring at the table surface offered a quick "Was found yesterday, part of the goods that the captain mentioned to be divided amongst the crew." Murin tried to mask the question that leapt to the forefront of her mind, "Am I to share in this?" She immediately dismissed that thought; she had just joined the crew and had done nothing to deserve a share.

As Miss Smith finished her work she was called to join the landing party. She gently ushered Murin out of the ward room, latched the door and the two walked quickly through the hallway towards the deck past the galley to the surgery and parted company there. Murin stood at the surgery door for a moment and watched Miss Smith exit onto the deck, paused again lost in thought then absent mindedly entered the room that she had been occupying for going on three days now. Neither the doctor nor her mate was present. Murin was hoping to have her hand examined it was still throbbing and her fingers were a bit swollen yet but she wanted to make herself useful to the crew as soon as possible.

Mooney, looking much better, and Bly sat at the table discussing the crew’s new found fortune but hushed as she entered the room. Nathan rose as she closed the door behind her and approached the two. Paul felt obliged to followed suit. Murin, a bit surprised by the courtesy shown after spending so much time being ignored by the Hodge's, dumbly curtsied to the gentlemen. Nathan politely introduced Murin and Paul who held out his hand and the two shook in greeting. “Yer lookin mouch betta den when ya furst come in yesterdey” Murin flashed a smiled at Mooney. “Aye, feeling better too.” Mooney gave a knowing glance to Bly. Paul took his seat as Nathan pulled out a chair and offered the lass the seat. “Tank ya Mista Bly,” Murin, not longer use to being treated with such respect, blushed lightly as she seated herself in the the chair offered.

An awkward silence fell over the room as the men could think of nothing more to discuss than their new found wealth. Guessing this, the lass made sport of it . “N’wot has ya feelin so fine so quickly Mista Mooney?” Mooney shared an uneasy glance with Bly. “The good doctor’s care.” An unnatural tight laugh was accompanied by a furrow in his brow. Pleased, Murin continued the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, "Been an awful lot o'comotion dese last few days wit our bein rescued n'mister Lasseter bein' lost, an who knows wot else." "Aye, it has." Paul shifted tensely. She paused. When neither man offered up conversation she smiled softly and said, “Tis amazing wot clear weather …n’a pretty treasure like wot was brought on board yesterday can do fer ones health n’disposition.” Both men raised eyebrows. “Wot er ya surprised bout? Det I know of d’treasure on this ship er d’fact det I seen it?” She did not have to pause for a response, “Seen it?” they asked nearly in unison. “Aye, d'capin jest invited m’inta d’ward fer a personal meetin on d’matter at hand.” Mooney balked while Nathan, noting the devilish grin on her face and the twinkle in her eye probed further ”An audience with the captain ...on what matter?” Murin’s eyes danced as she smiled broadly and declared that she would soon be the ships sail maker and tailor. “Good tidings!” exclaimed Nathan as he took her hand in both of his. “This here crew is bein gathered from the most unlikely places. Pluckin them out’a the sea and the sand! Glad t’have ya aboard Miss!” Mooney again offered his hand.

The three continued to chat about the fortune located. They also discussed the Apollo and the plans to salvage what they could. Murin kept clear of how she came to be aboard the Apollo. She felt no shame at having been a stowaway but found safety in the the notion that she was in Ana’s service and now was in need of a job. The morning passed pleasantly as the men discussed what they would do with what they had earned and how much each crew member would receive. Murin described what she had seen in on the ward room table and the morning passed rapidly. The men asked what sailing experience she had. Her sheepish reply was little on a fishing vessel. She was accustomed to mending nets and sails, and working the nets and fishing lines onboard. The sailing was handled by the sailors. Casually she mentioned the need to learn the duties of the able seamen. At that the two began to instruct the lass, on the ship’s rigging, …sails …guns …Murin had to ask them to stop her head swimming with far too much new information. She would be fine once she was able to learn hands on.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster stood with his fists on his hips, his mouth pressed in a hard line as he watched the worn craft make its way to shore infront of him. Once the boat had been secured and the small crew on land did he make any move.

He pointed to the three of them.

"What part of 'take no unnecessary risks' did ye not understand of my orders, relayed from Cap'n RedWake? Have yer eyes n' ears b'come useless ta ye as ye didn't see 'r hear th' hulk tearin' itself apart? What cause did ye 'ave ta go against that?"

He dropped his hand to the butt of his seaservice pistol and carressed it as if it were one of the ships cats while he waited for a response. He did not look angry, he did not look down upon the men, he wore an even look with a hint of questioning on his brow. The Master-at-Arms stepped forward and held a closed hand out to Mr. Lasseter prompting him to hold out an open palm, to which he dropped several gold coins.

"These 's wha' Harold jumped inta th' sea after... says there be hundreds of 'em... "

Mr. Pew offered no apology, no excuse, just the coins as way of explination.

"Hundreds..... of these...... in th' water... Bail ó Dhia ort..... Yer a bloody fool, Harold Press, but fer these I see why... Soon as th' St. Kitts' repaired I think we'll be off ta recover their kin... You all done a fine job, e'en if ye did give me a start... Go take yer ease, but be ready soon as th' longboat is seaworthy..."

He pocketed the coins given him and turned to Mr. Pew with a smile and a wink,

"I should take th' damages to her outta yer share......"

He walked back to the rest of the shore party, inquired how much longer it would be until the longboat was repaired, then made an interesting statement to the assembled masses.

"I will be heading back to the ship, Styles and Tucker will accompany me... Mr. Pew, you are in charge til I return. If the longboat is repaired before that time, you know what to do..."

Pew smiled and nodded, then took on an air of authority.

"A'right lads, come along..."

Styles and Tucker stood, brushed the sand from their clothes and followed the QuarterMaster to the fishing boat and proceeded to shove it into the surf with Mr. Lasseter already aboard, climbed in and took up the oars. Soon they were nearing the Watch Dog and Dorian saw the almost puzzled looks of those on the quarterdeck.

"Stay put lads, I'm sure I'll only be a moment, then we'll be back ashore..."

The two men nodded, having full confidence in the man at the tiller. Soon they bumped along side and He was up the hull and on deck in short order. Looking aft he questioned Mr. Badger as to where the Captain was. With the answer given, he made his way aft to the wardroom, pausing briefly as he came to the Surgeon's quarters, then knocked on the wardroom door....