The Watch Dog

[Pew]

The buzz aboard deck could scarcely be contained amongst the small groups of crew that had gathered.

Each small clique had different plans to spend their gains, women of ill repute to be the most widely spoken of, followed closely by the strong liquor available in this corner of the world. Some spoke of finely crafted weapons or new clothing for strolling about in town. Others had no plans but to spend it as the time and commodity arose.

As each group was given orders for recieving their pay, I strolled back to Eric and took place near the door as well. From inside, the continual, "NEXT" could be heard almost to a repetitive rhythm.

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Off of La Blanquilla

With all of the crew paid and the first bell rung, the cutter crew swung out Patricia as the longboat crew made ready the St. Kitt. A line formed down to the holds to pass the first of the small cargo upwards and outwards to the small boat. The cutter filled in short order and Mister Lasseter passed word from the waist to the Quarterdeck that all was ready to go ashore. William ordered Jim Warren to take the cutter crew to land and they went off, armed and prepared against the day. They were soon followed by the longboat crew under the Quartermaster's direction, and the second small boat joined the first on the beach.

Several hours passed ashore as the two crews dug the first of three caches on La Blanquilla.

While this took place, Mister Badger had the quarterdeck, and William busied himself in the separation of the Ilex fortune. Many of the items contained in the strongbox were made of gold or sliver alone and he separated these out to be weighed by ounces. The jewelry which contained precious stones or mixed metals, were set aside by materials and size to be sold ashore later at Martinique. Tudor Smith assisted in the tallying of every item, sometimes pausing, as the Captain did, to admire a particular piece or item as they went.

Each of them found items favorable to their own tastes, and more than once, William reminded here that she might take a piece of jewelry in leu of coin once the value was known. William had his own eye on a particularly nice watch fob and chain, and while he did not possess a watch yet, he thought he might obtain one at port.

A knock came at the Ward Room door as they were putting the items away and Mister Hand informed them that the cutter was returning to the 'Dog after being ashore some two hours.

between fifth and sixth bell of the Afternoon Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

The time ashore was spent in much heavy labor, The Quartermaster included. He spent some of his time giving direction to digging, where to place certain items in order to insure they would keep, and some of his time carrying that which would be placed in the caches. He was informed that the Patricia was heading back to the ship and he took a moment to relax. Heading over to the jury-rigged patch of shade, made by three sweeps lashed together, and an old sail over them, making an awning of sorts, he took the dipper out of the halfbarrel that had been brought along for just this purpose. Draining the bowl of the dipper not once, but thrice he felt restored. Then the breeze faultered and he caught wind of a fowl smell. That smell was of he and his crew, after toiling in the heat of the day some two hours. The foul air was soon whisked away as the breeze freshened, but a thought had stuck in his mind. 'How long would it be until all was accomplished here, and the ship would be on its way to Martinique? How long would the lady whom had departed her earthly form lay in waiting in this heat?' He spent a moment or two longer in this thought when he was brought out of it by a polite cough. It was Mr. Styles standing near.

"Er, Suh, all th' supplies an' wotnot is in th' cache... "

Dorian composed himself a moment and nodded.

"Very well... back ta th' ship we go then..."

"Aye Suh!"

Turning to the rest of the men Styles repeated the QuarterMaster's words and all that was necessary to return to the ship was gathered, some things left as they would return with more supplies to be cached atop all that was here.

They trooped down to the St. Kitts behind Mr. Lasseter, made the longbaot ready and soon were in the swells with the QuarterMaster at the tiller. While the men worked the sweeps and he at the tiller, Dorian found himself thinking again about when the sea burial of Lady Anna would take place. About half way to the ship he came upon an idea, mayhaps a small contingency could take the cutter over to the proposed place, the deep trench, and conduct the service before the day's end. When the St. Kitts came alongside of the Watch Dog, he would propose the matter to the Captain.

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Off the La Blanquilla Coast

Sixth Bell of the Afternoon Watch

With both small boats returned to the Watch Dog, William handed down orders to Mister Badger to move the Watch Dog to the designated coordinates of their next anchorage. Mister Badger called down the orders and the sailors ran to the windlass to weigh the anchor. While the crew was about this, William and Dorian held a conference regarding the burial of Lady Ana. William had no arguments to burying her privately away from the labors of the frigate and he freed up the cutter crew to carry out this task. He also asked the Quartermaster to invite Murin to attend with whomever she wished to join.

"Please question her whom she should prefer in regards to the final rites. I'll allow any officer of her choosing for the task."

"Very well, Cap'n."

"Were the provisions safely stored ashore without too much difficulty?"

"Aye, but th' soil 's not deep. Plenty o' coral underneath all this cactus."

"Aye", William said, nodding, "We may mine some of it for a barricade when we return. Coral turns small arms fire very well."

"Aye."

"Thank you, Mister Lasseter."

The Quartermaster saluted in his fashion and went immediately to the matters of the funeral just as the anchor broke the surface. With the aid of rope and tackle the crew soon had the anchor swung in and firmly lashed against the side of the Watch Dog and Mister Badger ordered them aloft. With little distance to travel, the 'Dog moved out at a casual pace, carrying only half her sail.

Only those birds dispersed from the rigging seemed to have any complaint about the day.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian walked foreward, off the quarterdeck and into the waist, his mind running down a list of what would be needed to outfit the cutter for the task set fourth. A burial at sea would be interesting done from the small craft... He loked about and waved over some of the cutter crew, informed them of what would be done once the ship dropped anchor and sent them to gather necessaries. He strode foreward and spotted Murin and Nathan near the pinrail, nathan pointing at various lines and up into the rigging, explaining what did what, Murin nodding here and there, a slightly overwhelmed look on her face. The QuarterMaster slowed his pace and came upon them. Nathan noticed him first and snapped a crisp salute.

"Quartermaster... I was just showin' Murin 'ow the rig works... showin' her th' ropes..."

Mr. Lasseter nodded, "Very goode, very goode... always a fine thing ta learn all ye can about yer ship... Sadly, I must take ye from this for th' time.... I need a momet wi' Th' lass... "

Mr. Lasseter held out his arm so as to escort the young woman away. She coloured slightly and took his arm, looking slightly apologetically to Nathan as she stepped away. Once they were out of the way, he let her arm go and turned to her.

"Not sure how ta go about this, so I'll be blunt... My apologies... Cap'n has given me th' duty ta seein' ta the burial at sea of yer companion, th' Lady Ana... We shall be takin' th' cutter out while th' rest o' those left aboard continue their work. Cap'n wants ta know who you'd like aboard fer th' ceremony... As you knew her best... An', well... Who you'd like ta share in th' ceremony... no rush til we drop anchor... Sadly time ain't on 'r side... Come find me when ye know what ye'd like... "

He stood watching her, not knowing if she would break down or become stoic, or something else. So, he stood, waiting for whatever reaction might come....

[William Brand]

The watch worked hard to bring up the next load of cargo for transport and Jonas McCormick proved to be as good a worker as most and better than some. Having gone from the 'Dog's makeshift brig to the berth deck was a strange transition. Still, most of the crew let him be, apart from Owen, who took great pains to create frictions between the prisoner turned able seaman and Bill Flint. Flint proved to be beyond Owen's petty baiting, but Owen continued on nonetheless, rubbing salt into any wound he could find.

Owen was thus employed in causing his share of trouble when he looked up to find the Captain looking at him from the quarterdeck. William's face wore that quiet, but disquieting expression he only wore when he was in a dangerous mood. He had been watching the troublemaker from the height of the quarterdeck, and he meant for Owen to understand that his devilry was finished. Six times over the next half an hour Owen looked up to find the Captain still fixing him with that same cold look. William never blinked while Owen looked at him, not that Owen could hold the gaze long. William had never liked meddlers and it showed in his face. He was forgiving of foolhardy, clumsy or awkward men. He even tolerated the occasional brutish cur or the casual blasphemer, but a man bent solely on trivial aggravations; well, this he despised.

Owen never opened his mouth once more during his watch.

[Pew]

Watching the scene unfold on deck, I have determined that Mr. Monahan needs an alternative duty station.

Looking over to young Thom Fitch, I have an idea.

"Thom, c'n I see ya fer a minute lad?"

"Aye sah." Thom comes over to me and I bend down and whisper in his ear. A smile begins to broadly form on his face as he nods and stands upright as if in full dress uniform.

"Mr. Monahan, front 'n center." I bellow across the deck. Thom stands next to me, hands clasped behind his back, eyes focused forward.

Owen removes his cap and stands in front of me. "Aye sah."

"Word 'as come ta me tha' the powder needs a siftin' down b'low," a look of reluctancy drains upon Owen's face. "Both tha cannon an' musket powder. We 'lso need ta 'ave sevral o' tha horns filled 'fore we make Martinique. Mr. Franklin is finishing up tha log in tha armoury, see to 'im for tha horns. Thom here will make sure tha job is done...properly... I...," Owen cuts me off in mid-sentence, "But sah, I was jus'.."

Stepping to his face, my nose nearly touching his, I howl at the top of my lungs,

"'RE YA DISOBEYING A D'RECT ORDER FROM A SHIPS MASTER?!?!?!?"

The crew had become silent and each person looked to the waist where Owen and I stood eye to eye. Thom Fitch didn't move. The Captain remained on the Quarterdeck staring at the three of us.

Time had stood still aboard the Watch Dog.

Very sternly I continued, "You are ta report ta Mr. Fitch 'ere. Mr. Franklin is b'low an' 'as tha armory open. Mr. Fitch will r'port ta me ifin ye 'as any trouble. There won't be 'ny trouble, will there Mr. Monahan?"

"No sah." Owen stood ramrod straight and knuckled his forehead.

"Very well. Carry on Mr. Fitch."

"Aye sah."

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin’s, eyes locked with Mister Lasseters. She then slowly and deliberatly closed them. Once opened again they were focused on the tiny island. She had managed to put this business of burial out of her mind all to well. Burial at sea? She had thought they would bury Ana on La Banquilla, seemed a bit cruel to send her from whence she had been spared. Murin heaved a sigh. “Aye, et moust b’don. I need no time t’tink.” Murin paused and looked back from the Island where the two had lived. “Mister Lasseter,” she spoke candidly to the man “I may uv known er’best buot I did nay know er’well. We met not even a full day b'fore d'Apolla trew us n’t’da sea. We adn’t even spoken til we found ourselves workin t’geter fer survival. Taint like we were social. She wuz sailin t’England t’be married, had a locket wit a portrit uv her b’trothed det she kept close to her heart.” Murin paused briefly a look of concern passed over her face “Ana was sure someone would b’lookin fer’er. I took it as her way uv keepin ope alive buot dare could be trut tin it.”

Lasseter nodded making a mental note concerning the locket. The possibility that there could be someone searching for the lady had previously been entertained and dismissed. Slim is the chance that that anyone looking could trace her to the WatchDog.

Murin continued. “I ken nil say who should b’at d’ceremony, kent even say she wuz Christian." Murin looked again to the the island and the water between. "Course, I would needs b’dere. I’ve no otter opinion. I know she would be pleased ifin d’capain were t’be dere simply cause, well ...he is d'capin." Murin stated flatly Mister Lasseter nodded again and the lass may have caught a twinge of a grin of understanding flash across his face at that. "I'd b'happy ifin you were dere in his stead bout we nil even need an officer." She looked to the lad she had befriended. "N'Natan, ifin ya please."

At that moment the ships Master-at-Arms' voice boomed across the weather deck at Mister Monahan. All on board held their breath and exhailed in unison once Mister Monahan spoke a clearly resentful 'No sah."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Once the show of command was over, Owen put in his place, Mr. Lasseter looked to the Master-at-Arms and slowly nodded once, then turned back to the newest member of the crew.

"Aye Miss McDonough... You, Nathan, the cutter crew, M'self... or the Cap'n.... I'll go see where we stand... I beg yer leave... Just be ready when we drop anchor."

He nodded with a smile and headed aft. He made his way to the Surgery, and entered after knocking, not waiting for an answer, for he knew the only residence inside was beyond answering. There she lay, already sewn into her canvas shroud. He walked over to where the body lay, though he did not know the lady, he was saddened by any unnecessary loss of life. Hers was all more the pity, as she had been rescued from the Apollo wreck, only to succumb to the elements of nature on the small island which those of the Watch Dog now claim as theirs.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not hear the Doctor enter and was slightly startled at the movement he caught at the corner of his eye.

"Ah, There ye be, Doctor... I see she be all ready ta go.... an' soon she shall.... soon as we drop anchor again, we'll be givin' 'er ta th' sea... Off we'll go in th' cutter so th' rest o' the workin's can be accomplished that much faster, then off ta Martinique we go..."

She looked up at him and smiled a close-mouthed smile, then spoke.

"Oui... that is well... I have some of her personal items in my desk, either to be interred with her, or given to? Miss McDonough? "

"Hmmm.... Aye, although She were headed ta england ta be married ta her b'trothed.... there should be a locket wi' 'is likeness within? I doubt we could locate 'im... Cap'n'll decide I s'pose..."

She nodded and headed to her quarters, returning shortly with a small pouch, the lady's particulars within. Dorian took it and sighed.

"Some o' th' lads'll be in soon ta bring 'er along... An' I'll be seein' William..."

He smiled and took his leave, heading up onto the quarterdeck, holding the small pouch as if it weighed of all the riches recovered from the Apollo...

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin watched the QuarterMaster depart and turned to Nathan who stood out of ear shot waiting respectfully, patiently, gazing at La Banquilla, straight and tall, his hands clasped behind his back, wind in hair, a contented smile on his face. She contemplated what right she had to request his presence on the burial boat. He had been so kind to her these past few days. Nathan made her feel at ease, he so reminded her of her brother Fionn. He turned to see her staring at him, a smile broke across his face. She smiled and returned to his side. "Tank ya."

"Thank me? For what?"

"Yer kindness."

"It has been my pleasure lass"

They paused looking over the water together. Simultaneously they turned to each other and began to speak.

"Mister Lasseter..."

"Is there a..."

They laughed lightly, each diverting their eyes momentarily, and started in unison once more.

"Please lass, you first." Nathan waited.

"Mister Lasseter was informin mae of d'plans made for Lady Ana's burial. She's t'have a wotery grave." She explained the arrangements to Nathan

"It is probably for the best lass."

"Seems so unfair t'send her to d'depths from which she escaped, yet, I know tis not done lightly and will b'done wit respect." Silence fell between them as they continued to gaze over the water. "Mister Lasseter asked who I felt should be on d'cutter wit her." Nathan said nothing. "I had no opinion, I know I need to be there tis only respectful."

"Aye."

Murin continued, "Nathan?" she looked up at him. "Would ya please accompany mae when w'go out?"

He bowed his head to her, "It would be an honor m'lady."

They stood again, alone on the deck swarming with able bodied seamen, an easy silence embracing them in their individual thoughts.

Murin broke the silence, "We need t'b'ready when we set anchor." yet she did not move from the rail.

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Seven Bells of the Afternoon Watch

Mister Lasseter passed the small bag of personal affects to William. The Captain leaned his hip against the lip of the poop deck and poured the contents out carefully. There was coin, hair pins, earings and a locket. William carefully plied the clasp open to reveal a gentleman of fair looks, and whether the artist had been as fair in his representation of the man or not, William couldn't be sure. The man looked young, but this may have also been a kindness of the artist. Still, the man looked wealthy and William suspected that this was not a flattery of the painter.

"Her betrothed." Mister Lasseter explained.

William nodded.

"Back in England." The Quartermaster added.

William nodded again. He placed the items back in the bag as he looked out over the island. "England."

"Aye."

They both knew how much weight that word had. It wasn't just the name of a place, it was the title given to a power, a force, an idea, which redefined itself almost daily. England was no longer a nation fenced in by the sea, in many ways, it was the sea. Every ship it commanded bore England's borders to and from the corners of the world. Not that this mattered, for most of them were beyond England. England had become a banished promontory that only a handful of them might ever return to safely. They were a ship of Prodigals.

William hefted the small bag and passed it back to the Quartermaster, repeating volume for volume what he had said just before.

"England."

"Aye."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

After having finished catalouging all the treasure with the captain, Tudor made her way below to help with the retrieval of the cargo that was marked to head ashore. After helping to haul it all up, and see that it was sorted and placed in order in the boat headed ashore, she sought out the captain to report to him and was pleased to find him on the Quarterdeck with Mr. Lasseter. The quatermaster had been hard to pin down in any given moment, for her to give him the coin she had found and that was still sitting in the small pouch on her belt.

"afternoon, sirs." She said with a quick bobbed curtsy. "Captain, the next boat load is ready to go ashore." She said then turned to the quatermaster. "And here, Mr. Lasseter," She handed him the small bit of gold. "I found this a few hours, and haven't as of yet had a chance to see it to your care. The Captain said you might be able to find the orginal owner."

[Dorian Lasseter]

As she handed the QuarterMaster the coin, He looked at the Steward and the Captain with a questioning look, and got an explination from Ms. Tudor about finding it while cleaning up in the Wardroom. He only had to think for a moment about who it might belong to. He smiled a slow smile and nodded while turning the errant coin over and over in his hand.

"I'll be seein' th' owner soon enough... Thankee...... which reminds me, Cap'n... Miss McDonough requested that you be on the cutter fer th' burial, lest ye be too busy an' I'll stand in yer place... Soon as we drop anchor th' lads of the cutter crew will fetch... no, will bring fourth th' Lady and into th' cutter, then those who will be present fer the ceremony shall follow... An' what shall we do wi' th' Lady's affectations? Give 'em ta Miss McDonough? Or send 'em off wi' th' owner?"

He stood, pouch in one hand, coin in the other, as if weighing one against the other and waited for the Captain's words. It was a small decision, yet one that was not given to him. It was a decision for the Captain.

[William Brand]

"No funeral sacrifices, Mister Lasseter. We must remain pragmatic...and we will adorn no corpse while I am Captain."

Mister Lasseter smiled a slow smile, and perhaps he had known the Captain would not send off any wasted ounce that might be used to buy them another meal or spar.

"The coin shall be kept against the locket, for we may need coin to send it on to England if that unexpected opportunity should present itself. I'll not open the ledgers again so soon to tally such a small amount. Present the earrings to Murin with my compliments. She should have some extra earning as the sole survivor of the Apollo. Assure her that the Lady Ana would not have begrudged her some token for the services she rendered to her on the island. And should you hear argument from anyone else on the subject, than inform them that the difference shall come out of my share. And inform Miss McDonough that i shall attend to the matters of the funeral and join her in the cutter."

"Aye, Cap'n."

The Quartermaster turned to go, but William called him back from the stair. Taking the coin bag up again, William fished in it for two farthings, holding them to be sure of the coinage.

"For the Ferryman."

"Aye."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian pursed his lips in a grim line and nodded once, then turned and headed down the stairs and into the passage way aft. He entered his quarters, pulled out the chair at his desk and sat. He found the familiar tools of inkpot and brass nib pen, pulled a piece of parchment from the top drawer and settled to write a note concerning the items that were left from the Lady. He poured out the contents of the pouch, making sure not to get the coins mixed with the one lost by Ms. McDonough. He noted what was left, minus the earrings that would go to Murin. The locket, hairpins and coins were then folded up into the parchment once the ink was dry, and the small package was transferred into the top most side drawer. Dorian looked at the earrings for a moment, the gold was bright and the small rubies almost glowed.

"Pretty things..."

He put away the ink and pen, then put the errant coin along with the earrings into the pouch and stood. He shoved the chair in using his foot and headed out into the passage, shutting his door quietly behind him. He made his way topside and found the newly appointed Ship's Tailor still where he had left her, Nathan along side.

"Miss McDonough, Mister Bly... "

He greeted them both, then turned his focus on the woman.

"I have something fer you... Firstly, ye lost some coin from yer share... An' Secondly.... secondly, Cap'n thinks th' Lady would 'ave wanted you ta have somethin' o' hers... fer all ye done fer her on th' Island..."

He handed her the pouch, not telling her what lay inside.

"Cap'n'll be joinin' ye fer the service... M'sympathies n' all..."

Not knowing what more to say, he doffed his hat and retreated back to the quarterdeck...

[William Brand]

With Dorian gone again, William turned once more to his Steward. "Please, see to my coat and hat. I shall show what grace I may while attending to this departure. And please do me the favor of joining me in the cutter once we make anchorage. You have my permission to set aside all other duties in exchange for what garments you feel would make you an adequate mourner. We'll give Murin such service that she shall feel welcome among so many strangers."

"Aye, Captain. I shall see to your things and then retire to change my attire."

As she left, William was reminded of something that he once heard in a minister's company. "Fast friends are sometimes found, not at celebration, but in funeral silence."

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the QuarterMaster was returning to the quarterdeck, he watched the Captain's Steward head down the scuttle to the wardroom. He assumed on an errand of William's. There stood William, lookind somewhat stoic, so He left him to his peace and reversed his direction. He headed back to his quarters and readied himself for command of the ship while the Captain was off on the cutter. He decided to freshen up as he had spent the morning sweating on shore. He pulled the basin form its place and set it on the desk, retrieved the pitcher and filled the basin with cool, fresh water. He stripped and sponged himself off quickly, then as he air dried he pulled out his last good shirt and his better pair of slops, along with some stockings. His shoes were dry from the last time he wore them, so it was time to wear them again. Once dressed in the shirt, slops, stockings and shoes, he pulled his wesket off the hanger it had hung on for the past days. He brushed it down as best he could and it looked good enough to him. On it went along with his sword and all other acoutraments, finished off by his hat.

"Best I c'n do fer now... show my respects..."

He headed across the passageway and into the sickward, walked over to the waiting form in canvas shroud and laid a hand on the chest.

"Gods speed to you M'Lady.... Gods speed..."

He then turned and left... heading foreward and out into the waist and this time continued up onto the quarterdeck.

"Cap'n... So ye may perpare what ye wish fer the Lady's service, I'll take th' deck..."

[William Brand]

James Whiting watched the Quartermaster change places with the Captain and he took this opportunity to make his way aft. He waited until the Quartermaster looked his way before asking permission to speak with him, and the Quartermaster gestured for him to come up to the quarterdeck.

"Is there a problem, Mister Whiting?"

"No. No, sah." Whiting hesitated long enough that Mister Lasseter was forced to begin the conversation again.

"Mister Whiting...?"

"Sah...I cannot speak...French." He said quietly, and his voice almost trailed away as he said it. James had not taken the time to fully consider how foolish this might sound, and now having said it, he wanted to go back to work without a word. Unfortunately, now that he had asked for the Quartermaster's attention, he was at the man's discretion.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster's eyebrows rose at what James had said.

"Ye can't speak french...... and?"

He let the words hang in the air, allowing the man to continue, if he would. Dorian studied the man's face as he tried to form more words, his face going from a tan to a pinkish red and even a pastey white.

"Mister Whiting... some of the men here barely speak english... make yer point..."

[William Brand]

"My apologies...sah, but Martinique..." He tried, failing and trailing off again. James never wanted to return to duty more than he did now. He had once taken a dozen lashes and would gladly take them again in place of this self proclaimed torture.

"Mister Whiting, should you find that you remember why you..." Mister Lasseter began, and James interrupted, taking hold of this unfinished statement and the opportunity it implied.

"Sorry, Sah. I shall return to duty at once."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mr. Lasseter was pretty sure what it was that James Whiting was trying to convey... How was he to get along in a french port when he did not speak french?

"Mister Whiting... hold fast..."

The man froze, then turned back to the QuarterMaster slowly.

"Aye Sah?"

Dorian chuckled under his breath, deciding to release the man from torment.

"Half o' th' in'abitiants o' Martinique speak english, an' fer those that don't... Well, yer specie, yer coins that is... there is no language barrier fer what I believe yer lookin' for.... Now... off ye go... back ta yer duties..."

[Silkie McDonough]

"Miss McDonough, Mister Bly... "

He greeted them both, then turned his focus on the woman.

"I have something fer you... Firstly, ye lost some coin from yer share... An' Secondly.... secondly, Cap'n thinks th' Lady would 'ave wanted you ta have somethin' o' hers... fer all ye done fer her on th' Island..."

He handed her the pouch, not telling her what lay inside.

"Cap'n'll be joinin' ye fer the service... M'sympathies n' all..."

Not knowing what more to say, he doffed his hat and retreated back to the quarterdeck...

“Tank ya sur” was all Murin managed before Mister Lasseter had turned to go. She stood silent, stunned, looking at the small pouch coin in her hand quizzically. After a few moments she pulled opened the pouch and carefully let the content roll into the palm of her right hand beside the gold coin. Jaw agape, eyes wide, she lifted her gaze from the gift in her hand to the back of the retreating QuarterMaster. “Sur, ah...” she closed her hand around the delicate earrings and started to advance. Nathan placed his hand on her forearm before she made a second step her attention turned to him before advancing further. “I kent…”

Nathan shook his head sideways. “You can, and you should.”

Such a gift for her from the friend she barely knew? “Buot I …”

“You will refuse a gift from a friend?” His eyebrow raised, “Will you also oppose the Captain before you stitch your first sail or garment on the WatchDog?”

Murin said nothing. Her hand again and her gaze shifted to the beautiful red stones lying within, she rolled one of the earrings over with the index finger of her injured hand. A vision of Ana, the earrings glinting in the sun beneath her chestnut locks, was brought to the front of her mind. They had been a gift to the lady from her betrothed, her childhood beloved, Johnathan. A Colonel in His Majesties Army. Another soldier doing his duty, blindly oppressing those who would opposed foreign rule. Her fist clenched around the cold metal and stone with the hardening of her heart. Her thoughts strayed to Aiden, gone three years now. Her own love, taken away in his prime. Her heart sank. "His heart will broken" she thought. Murin knew the pain of having lost the one friend that you hold so dear. She excused herself and quickly made her way to the surgery. Nathan did not stop her.

Murin knocked at the door and entered without waiting, hoping that neither Chanault or Doctor Fitzgerald would be inside. Death hung in the room, sickly sweet but somehow she found more comfort in this room than on deck in the open. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Her right hand clutched the treasures that had been bestowed upon her. A tear trickled down her cheek.

“Mademoiselle McDonough?” It was Chanault. Murin wiped her eyes with the back of her bandaged hand, sniffed lightly and acknowledged the man. He held out his hand to the her. She accepted it and he lead her to a seat then excused himself.

Murin sat there, her thoughts on Ana. She opened her hand to reveal the earrings and coin and emptied them onto the table. She lifted one of the jewels and pondered while absentmindedly wiping another tear from her cheek.

[Pew]

While things had nearly resumed a complacent normalcy on the deck of the Watch Dog, the overhanging pall of another burial at sea was still lingering.

Struck by this thought, I ventured to the gun'le and looked overboard into the sea. I could hear Thom correcting Owen below on the amount and procedure for properly sifting the powder. Smiling, I look towards the bow and take a meandering stroll through the crew. Conversations of Martinique and what adventures lay before them are fresh on the lips of all who continue to toil about their daily duties. From below, the smell of fresh biscuits and coffee waft upon deck.

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between eight bells of the Afternoon Watch and first bell of the the First Dog Watch

Chanault made his way forward and then up to the quarterdeck. He was forced to wade nimbly through the retiring watch and the new watch as they gathered at the galley for food. Once free of the throng, he appeared before the Quartermaster to inquire after clothing for Miss McDonough. The Frenchman fully expected that Mister Lasseter would direct him to the slop chest where he would find many oversized garments, but he was surprised to learn that a previous female crew member had departed the ship at La Margarita, leaving behind several changes of clothing, including one pair of very worn shoes. Chanault had never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Swan, but appreciated that her loss would be Murin's gain, provided that they were of a similar size.

He went immediately to the slop chest and there procured two shirts, one worn and repeatedly dyed, and the other a decent shirt which showed little signs of use. He also found two decent pairs of slops, though he couldn't be certain that either pair had belonged to the former Miss Swan. The shoes too were found within, and the Quartermaster had not understated their age. They were well worn. Still, they would serve as well as the ones already in Murin's kit, and she might prefer shoes for work until they came again to shore.

Chanault, ever the man of prudence, returned to the surgery to ask after her other needs. At first, she couldn't think what these might be, but with careful prompting he stirred up ideas of personal effects and sundries necessary to a sailor. When he was quite satisfied that they had thought of everything she might need, he returned to the Berth deck to barter and trade for those things he might get with the coin he had coaxed from her.

He proved a frugal and able barterer and when he was finished he had purchased or traded his way to a decent collection of personal affects.

The Ship's Tailor was surprised to say the least, for when Chanault laid out the items, she found herself to be the proud owner of a fine, though eclectic kit. It containted one sturdy, silver brush that was tarnished to the point that it resembled iron more than silver, one wooden comb carved with a pilot whale on one side, three stitching needles,two spools of fine linen thread; one white, one blue-grey, a sailor's knife with an ivory handle covered in a spidery filigree of tiny fish, and one dark brown waistcoat with brass buttons that was two sizes too large.

Chanault raised the waistcoat and declared with a very sober expression, "Your first battlefield as Tailor, jeune dame."

Murin was flustered past thanks, and made even more so when he produced the change left over from his bartering and placed it on the pile.

"Thank you." she managed as he went out, then she attempted a more appropriate 'Merci', but it came out sounding more like 'merde-sea', but Chanault showed no signs of smiling as he nodded and closed the door, leaving her to handle her new wardrobe and belongings.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Monseur Chanault had come and gone, and in doing so had eased one burden from his mind. One he had thought of only after he had taken the deck, that the new Ships Tailor was lacking in proper garments. He stood and watched as the crew go about their tasks, soon to be bringing the ship to anchor and running supplies to be cached in another location on La Blanquilla. He saw Chanault again, but in amongst the crew, and he seemed to be striking up conversation with many of the off duty crew. Very odd he thought, as the frenchman had never socialized in such a way before. Then Dorian saw what was happening, Rapheal was not socializing but making business, there was an exchange of coin for a working knife from Harold Press. Mr. Lasseter kept an eye on the happenings, making sure nothing went awry, no one tried to make a better deal once one had been set. He was only able to watch for a short time, as Chanault and some of the others headed below, into the crew's berthing. Dorian grumbled to himself, waiting to hear some sort of trouble when all was going so well. He turned his focus to the ship, trying not to anticipate anything. He had Mr. Warren correct their course once, but continued to look foreward to the fore hatch. Again he had to turn his attention back to ship's business.

"Mister Badger... shorten sail, have the best bower made ready...."

"Aye-aye Sah!"

After his orders were given, he looked back to the fore hatch just in time to see Chanault come through with an armload of clothing and other sundries. Dorian sighed slowly, relieved that nothing went sour.