The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

first bell of the First Dog Watch

William finishing buttoning his waistcoat, careful to straighten his sleeves and collar. He slipped on his baldric, placing the newer mortuary sword in the frog where his weathered cutlass usually sat. The irony of the sword's name did not escape him as he did this. A knock came at the Ward Room door as the Steward was helping William into his coat.

"Enter."

Bill Flint entered the Ward Room, hat in hand. "Begging your pardon, Cap'n. The Quartermaster sends his compliments. They're prepared to lower the bower and the cutter crew is at the ready with Patricia."

"Very good, Mister Flint. Please inform Miss McDonough of our near departure. I shall be on deck presently."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"And ask Mister Badger to select three other sailors to join you in the surgery for the purpose of bringing Lady Ana's body amidships."

Mister Flint's face changed only a little, and he nodded. "Aye, Sah."

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

After making sure that the captain had all that he needed for the coming solemnities, Tudor excused herself and quickly slipped into her tiny quarters. Pulling out the small trunk she had stashed in the corner. Digging past the top layer consisting of her small collection of slops, shirts, and other everyday items, she pulled back the wool cloth obscuring the second strata containing neatly folded bundles of grey and green silk. And tucked away neatly in a corner she found the articles she was looking for. Selecting the dark petticoat, she quickly donned it, replacing the slops she had been wearing. Deciding to forego full dress, she chose the black sailors jacket, and slipped it on over the shirt she wore. After closing the pewter buttons, and finger combing her locks she headed for the door, going to find the captain, ready for the services.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mr. Lasseter had taken the logbook from the binnacle, checked some of his notes then replaced it in its niche, took out the spyglass and stepped to the rail. He swept the glass across the island, pausing several times. As he slowly swept it actoss the landscape a second time he found what he was looking for.

"Ah! There ye be..... Mister Badger! Haul in all sails! Mister Warren! Heave to!"

"Aye-aye!"

With that set of commands, the wheel was brought over, Mr. Badger bellowed the command to haul in sails to the waiting crew and up they scurried into the shrouds. Soon the forward movement of the ship abaited and the next command was given to the crew directly from the QuarterMaster.

"Anchor away!"

The response from those in the bow was partially swallowed up by the splash of the best bower plunging into the water, and the hawser being drawn out through the hawse-hole. Soon the ship was riding on the cable nicely.

"Excellent gentlemen... Mister Badger, ready th' longboat crew fer thier departure ta th' island, and 'ave th' cutter brought alongside..."

"Aye Sah!"

Just as Dorian was about to step over to the scuttle leading into the wardroom, the Captain's Steward came up on the quarterdeck.

"Ah, Miss Smith... All is about ready... I'll be havin' th' cutter crewe bring the Patricia alongside an' ready ta receive the..... fun'ral.... party....."

[William Brand]

The Captain made his way forward to the galley. Here he collected enough food to stall his later hunger, chasing it down with a glass of strong alcohol, which the cook supplied from the hidden bottle cabinet. William smiled at this, for he had been all but certain that Lazarus would find given enough time in these close quarters.

Lazarus poured himself a drink and raised a silent toast, which William answered in silence. Then he stood up and gathered his hat as well as himself.

"My thanks, Mister Gage. Very fine fare as always."

*"Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers," Lazarus said with a grin.

William nodded with an appreciative smile. "Aye."

William made his way out to the gun deck where he found the crew departing the rigging. He watched the last of them retreat from the ratlines as he turned up the stairs leading onto the Quarterdeck. Here he found the QuarterMaster and Steward. William removed his hat in an appreciative gesture, bowing a little to Miss Smith as he did so.

"Charming."

*From Romeo and Juliet

[Dorian Lasseter]

As Captain Brand approached, Dorian turned to him and nodded.

William complimented Ms. Smith on her smart dress and she curtsied.

"Cap'n... I was just tellin' Miss Smith that all is about ready.... Longboat'll be off an' the cutter is bein' brought alongside...."

[Pew]

Seeing the headmasters of the Watch Dog appear on the quarterdeck, I walked up the stairs to join them.

"Cap'n, Mister Lasseter. By tha state o' yer dress sah's, I take it yer not goin' ashore."

[William Brand]

"No, Mister Pew. Not today."

William borrowed the QuarterMaster's glass to follow the progress of the longboat. They were heavy laden and riding low in the water, but the day was calm and they made their way easily enough.

"Thank you, Mister Lasseter." He said, passing back the glass. "When they return for a second load, send them again with six or seven empty casks. The sand of this place is of a good quality and we may require some for the surgery."

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Aye Cap'n.... grande notion..."

They all turned as four crewmen emerged into the waist from aft, carrying the shrouded form of the woman know to them as "Lady Ana" Mr. Flint, Marchande, Smyth, and Dinwiddie walked with a slow step to the gangway. there they handed her down into the cutter to the waiting hands of the crew onboard.

"Well.. I s'pose yer off then... I.... I shall see you soon..."

Mr. Lasseter half shrugged, not knowing what more to say....

[William Brand]

"You have the ship, Mister Lasseter."

They all went over the side and down into the boat. First Murin followed by Tudor. Then William, who was followed by Nathan Bly. They all joined Bill Flint, Claude Marchande, Andrew Smyth, Nigel Brisbane, Paul Mooney and Lawrence Dinwiddle already in the cutter, and Patricia seemed at once crowded and empty as they moved away from the frigate.

The small boat moved at speed across the water for the wind was fair and the water was perfect for sailing. Despite the errand of the party, William enjoyed the fleetness of the cutter. The wind felt good, and compared to the sometimes crowdedness of the 'Dog, it was a fresh afternoon. William chanced to look about at the faces of the cutter crew and found that all of them seemed of two camps. They were of course, understandably sober, but also content to be on the water with no other requirements but the farewell of a virtually unknown woman. Some of them might have been in a reflective mood, but most of them watched the island slip by as they were carried past reefs and beaches.

William noted that Murin did not wear the earrings of the late Lady Ana, but t was also apparent that she might not have ever worn such adornments, for her earlobes looked untouched.

Some curious birds circled the boat, and looking back at the Watch Dog, William noted that the rigging had drawn a great many varieties of them. The island supported a surprising number of birds, fish and small life. He found himself wondering if cattle of any kind might take to this place, deciding that goats might be best suited for the harsh flora.

"The mind does wander" he thought, as the second bell of the First Dog Watch peeled across the water from the 'Dog.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin sat silently, Nathan at her side. The wind rushed through her hair tossing her curls. She loved being on the water. Closing her eyes she breathed in the ocean air, her mind drifted. The weight of the pouch that contained Ana’s earrings rested lightly on her chest, such a extravagant gift she had never dreamed of. She had been sitting in the surgery inspecting the beautiful stones set in gold for quite some time. Her intense focus on the pinkish glow and spark of the reflected light off of each was broken only when Monsieur Chanault returned to the surgery. He presented her with clothing that would better fit her and shoes, although worn and not fitted to her feet, that were an improvement from the boots that she had been wearing on the island. He then inquired as to what she may need and set out with some of her coin to procure some of the items. She changed her garments and soon the surgeons mate returned. She could not thank the man enough for his kindness and his efforts. It was soon after he left her with her new belongings that the ship dropped anchor.

Murin went to her bunk and gathered the delicate handkerchief that Chanault had loaned her just two days ago. It was crumpled and in need of laundering but she felt there might be need of it before sunset, she folded it and tucked it around the sword belt, the lace edge on display. Tying the small pouch that contained the earrings to the shirt ties she dropped it inside the shirt. She responded to a gentle rapping on the door. Nathan’s friend Billy Flint and four others entered the surgery. It was time. She exited before the men and their burden. She located the Captain, Miss Smith and Nathan waiting at the rail and joined them just before descending into the boat where she now sat. The familiar call of a local birds overhead mourned the loss of the lady but the sunlight dancing brightly on the water would not allow Murin to mourn for long. Out here she felt alive, at home.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster watched as the two ships boats went off, the St. Kitts to deliver goods to be cached, and the Patricia, to deliver the Lady Ana to the sea off the island. He stood at the rail and watched the Patricia get smaller and smaller...

"And we commit Yer body to the sea, earth ta earth, ashes ta ashes, dust ta dust......"

Once the cutter was far enough out into the sea, where the deep trench lay, she rounded up and dropped all sail. He watched for a moment longer, then turned to the workings onboard the ship. Walking to the stairs to the waist, he decended them and walked forward to the main hatch. There he saw Mr. Styles and Tucker, looking busy below. He smirked at their charade and called out their names.

"Mister Styles, Mister Tucker... If ye can find time in yer busy schedules ta procure half dozen'r so empty barrels... haul 'em up on deck fer when th' longboat is back..."

They looked up at the QuarterMaster and knuckled there forelocks, and without a word headed deeper into the hold. Once they were out of his view, Dorian walked forward and up onto the forecastle, inspecting the ship, noting in his head anything that might need attention, and generally admiring how well the ship was kept. The crew left aboard were sparce, either resting in the berthing or on watch.... Only a handfull were on deck at the moment, most were tending to coiling the rigging lines. Soon he found his way aft and decided to tend to his stomache.

"Mister Warren, I'll be in th' Galley fer a moment... "

"Aye-aye Mister Lasseter."

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Off the coast of La Blanquilla

Third bell of First Dog Watch

At first, William said nothing, and the whole company was left to wait in silence for him to begin. It was not an uncomfortable silence, for everyone either spent the time in reflection or regard for the island. Several full minutes passed in this fashion, for William had brought no book, no rote prayers, and no written speeches. When he did finally begin he sounded thoughtful, reflective.

"And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them." The Captain began, speaking as if from memory or personal experience, rather than some long ago revelation.

"And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.

And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works."

He paused a moment before repeating a small portion of that ancient text. "And the sea gave up the dead which were in it..."

Then when only a few had spoken their amens silently or aloud, he expounded on the moment.

"And so we see that life and life again are but two parts of the same voyage and that death is but a respite from our travels until we are called again to sign articles to some greater vessel. We are born upon an island of Earth, there to toil, to love and to rest, until such a time as we are called by name to board that infinite unknown and journey to such shores, that even we dreamers cannot imagine."

He placed his hand on Ana's shrouded forehead and looked to Murin. "Do you wish to impart any parting words, Miss McDonough?"

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin laid her hand on the lady,"Tá si ar a sáimhín suilt. She is in heaven now." Her hand lingered there, her thoughts tracing what little she knew of the unfinished life. The lass straightened herself and lifted her hand to the light weight upon her chest that would forever be a reminder of the lady.

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - Aboard Patricia off the coast of La Blanquilla

Her words spoken, the Captain allowed Murin and the others to have their silence a moment. Then he stood at the mast of the cutter.

"We commend thy body to the deep, looking forward to that time when the sea shall give up her dead. Earth to earth. Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust. "

Bill Flint and Nigel Brisbane lifted the body gentle over to the side, and weighted as it was, it disappeared at once into silence. William thought he heard one of the others whisper 'In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, Amen', and wondered, not for the first time, how many of these pirates and sailors alike gave thought to their souls.

"Thank you, all." William said with a quiet smile, replacing his hat.

Then he quite suddenly decided that he needed to take the cutter ashore. He hadn't planned on such an excursion, but having the cutter crew at his disposal, and having not set his feet on the island since arriving her some three days back, he thought it was high time he went exploring on the island. He made his way aft, taking over the tiller as he ordered the sail up. It filled in short order and they sped across the water to a location within yards of the longboat crew, who were now employed in a line to and from the boat to the next cache.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin started the song quietly as Ana's body was committed to the sea. Quietly enough that Nathan, beside her, had to glance over to be sure of the sounds origin. It wasn't until the captain ordered the cutter to the island that her voice lifted loud enough to be heard by all onboad. Her caoine* (KEEN-a) became louder as the crew unraveled the canvas. The song wrapped around the crew in words only a few on the Watch Dog could understand but the emotion was felt clearly in the sound. The ethereal sounds in a low timber, powerful in both the depth of emotion and volume rode above the waves ahead of the Patricia carried by the wind that propelled her over the waves.

The ornamentation of the notes danced a bit more pleasantly than perhaps was appropriate for the loss of a life. Murin's mourning song was tainted with the joy felt being free on the waves the wind in her hair the sun on her face. Although the words were those of mourning before long her song sounded of life not death, bright with the days ahead.

*Caoine means lament. Until recent times, it was traditional in many parts of Ireland and Scotland for mourners to caoine at a graveside, or in the home of the deceased person to mourn their passing.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mr. Lasseter headed into the Galley and was met by the smile of Mr. Gage.

"Quartermaster.... I wondered when you'd make an appearance today. What are your wishes?"

Dorian looked over the pile of fresh biscuits, the salt beef, the fresh fish, and the pudding that had all been ravaged by the crew earlier.

"Thankee Mister Gage... even after the watch has had their fill, it all still looks and smells grande... I'll have a bit of the lot... I'll fill m'tankaed wi' fresh water while we have it..."

As Gage made up a plate for the QuarterMaster, he headed to the fresh water cask in the corner, withdrew the dipper and filled his tankard, drunk it dry and refilled it. When he came back to the table his plate was filled and waiting...

"Lardy Mister Gage, I said a bit, not a plateful... Thankee... A favour then, watch over this a moment... I must tell those on deck I'll be longer here than I said."

"Aye sir... think nothing of it..."

Dorain gave a short bow to the Cook and headed out into the waist, looked up to the quarter and hailed Mr. Badger and Warren.

"Gentlemen... I'll be supping in th' Galley, notify me of anything worthy..."

"Aye-aye"

They said in unison. He nodded and returned to the Galley, sat at his plate and rubbed his hands together.

"A fine lookin' meal Mister Gage, fine indeed... but where to start? "

With that he sampled everything, then began to eat heartily...

[Pew]

The smells from the galley continue to waft on deck. The scent of finely cooked beef leaves ones palate hungry especially since hardtack was only available late last eve. Looking about for the Quartermaster, Mister Badger informs me that he went below.

"Ah Mister Lasseter, Mister Badger said I might find ye 'ere. Don't mean ta interrupt. A moment sah, at yer lezzure."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian looked up from his meal as the Master-at-Arms addressed him. He drank from his tankard before speaking.

"Aye Mister Pew, no worries, have a sit-down.... What's on yer mind?"

He went back to eating as Mr. Pew settled himself, Dorian looked at him between bites, waiting for the man to speak his mind...

[Pew]

"Permission ta get some o' tha lads trained on tha musket sah? 's been a might busy 'round 'ere lately an' the lull might be good 'fore we raise anchor 'gain. Jus' like ta know where we stand should tha occasion 'rise sah." I wink and watch as the Quartermaster continues to eat.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Musket practice...... Aye... a grande idea... No more'n six ta eight at a time though.... Mayhaps take one o' th' battered crates from the Apollo, use it as a target for thems that got sharp eyes... Used th' older powder from th' stores, keep the fresh supply til later..."

Dorian spoke between mouthfulls, he hadn't realized how starved he was until he had the food in front of him, and he could put his fork down.

Mr. Pew nodded several times, a smile splitting his face.

"Aye-Aye, Sah! No more than eight men at a time, use th' older powder stores, an' target practice fer thems with sharp eyes..."

Mr. Lasseter nodded and knuckled his forehead, which Mr. Pew returned and stood, heading out onto the deck with a bounce in his step...

[William Brand]

July 21, 1704 - La Blanquilla

Fourth Bell of First Dog Watch

They ground up on soft sand and Andrew Smyth hastened up the beach to anchor the small boat, while Bill Flint held it fast. The small party went out from the boat, and several of them stood a moment while their brains tried to rectify the need to sway on a deck of surer stuff than the cutter or frigate. Even William took a moment to remind his mind of earth.

Down the shore from them, the longboat crew pantomimed the ant, going to and from the small boat to a digging crew well up from the tide line. William dismissed half the cutter crew to rest and half to labor, moving up the beach as he did so.

The sand was soft and of a fine quality, which William had guessed at earlier without evidence, and as he had expected, the terrain beyond the beach was harsh. Thick nests of thorns and cactus sprung up almost everywhere and he was reminded of his earlier thoughts as touching goats, for he was certain that few other animals might find enough to subsist on. It would be goats or nothing if they meant to have the finer things at La Blanquilla.

'Milk for tea and cheese for biscuits', he thought to himself.

He looked back to note Bill and Nathan walking escort on either side of Murin. The three of them were becoming a common sight together, though Murin seemed to prefer the grinning youth over the taller Flint. William had a chance then to wonder how there had never been a fight about a woman aboard with so many traveling in their company. Perhaps there were enough not to find reason for argument, though he had witnessed almost no rendezvous or relationships springing up amongst them.

A soft pop and echo interrupted these thoughts as it drifted to him then from over the water. William stopped instinctively to listen, and only when he heard another pop followed by a quiet, but discernible voice or two, did he continue moving along the beach. No doubt some sport or training had begun aboard the 'Dog. Or perhaps Mister Gage had taken to birds now that they had eaten so much of the native fish of late.

William arrived at the second cache site and was greeted there by many lads stripped to the waist against the day's heat. He stripped off his own coat and hat to join the laborers at the digging, despite a few raised eyebrows. William looked around at the longboat crew who seemed taken aback to find themselves shoulder to shoulder with the Captain.

"This isn't the Royal Navy, lads."

Several nods, grins and not a few 'aye-ayes' passed among the diggers.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian finished the meal and leaned back with a sated smile upon his face. He patted his belly ans then put his fist to his mouth and barely suppressed a great belch. Looking over, he saw Mr. Gage look his was and chuckle.

"Mister Gage... Again, ye outdone yerself... 'nother fine, fine meal... what can I say? How to compliment ye? It was---"

His words were interrupted by several crashes of musket fire, followed by loud orders given by Mr. Pew.

"I think tha' says it all... Again my compliments to an excellent man with his craft...."

He bowed to Mr. Gage and made his exit out into the waist where the Master-at-Arms was drilling his first group of willing or unwilling crewmembers in the fine art of musketry...

[Pew]

A thick cloud of smoke began to fill the waist of the ship.

One row of men standing three arms length apart fired at the small onion bottles floating delicately out to sea. Behind them and to their side knelt another row of 4 men each tamping down another round into their muskets. As Eric Franklin walked in between the men, he continued to make sure the right amount of powder was being dispensed into each barrel. Grabbing the musket from a crew member I could not distinguish through the cloud, he removed the rod and packed the wadding himself. Thrusting the musket back into the waiting hands he stepped aside as the first row of men leveled their weapons at the floating orbs. Eric removed his cap and waved it over his head.

"FIRE" I cried from the quarterdeck. A hail of lead shot rippled the water out to sea. With a glisten upon the sea, one of the onion bottles shattered.

"RELOAD. SECOND LINE FORWARD." The next group of men moved forward taking the positions of the first. Mister Franklin walked the line checking each marksmen. As Mister Franklin approached, he turned his back to me and returned the same path. Muskets rose to each shoulder. Eric removed his cap once again and waved it around his head.

"FIRE" I cried again from the quarterdeck. Several splashes could be seen in and around the bottles floating about, but none were to break yet.

After a momentary break to let the smoke clear Eric stands before the crew and delivers a quick doctrine on how to sight in the musket. The small crowd moves in close. Eric moves to the gun'le and sights, then fires a round, kneels down quickly, loads, stands and fires another. Several crew members clap, but he breaks off the celebration quickly. He tells the crew that a good shooter should be able to fire off several rounds in under a minute. Eric sternly hands the musket off, and returns each man to the line.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mr. Lasseter climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck and stood near the larboard rail, watching the training that took place. Eric Franklin was proving to be a very good Sargent-at-Arms, and Mr. Pew a fine Master. As the drilling continued, the QuarterMaster turned his attention to the ship, not that anything had changed since he went below to eat. His eyes ran up and down each mast, each bit of rigging, each gasketed sail. All was in good order. Next he began inspecting the work done on deck. All the lines were coiled properly on the quarterdeck, all the cannon, cannon tools, and other equipment were stowed properly. He walked foreward, down into the waist opposite where the men were firing over the side and began inspecting the row of great gunns...

[William Brand]

Pete Youngblood stood at the foremost rail of the 'Dog smoking a long clay pipe and humming some half remembered tune. He and Mister Johnson were working sided by side cleaning the two swivels of the forecastle deck, War and Famine. As the Quartermaster approached, they both made as if to stand, but Mister Lasseter waved them down again.

"Mister Youngblood. Wot news?"

Pete took the pipe from his mouth and gestured to the Starboard gun that Cheryl had affectionately named Havoc. "The carriage 'as a crack in it running with the grain on it's left side. She'll take a shot or two at best, but I'd not risk more."