The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

Jean arrived before the Captain, and sensing this was more important than he had realized before, given the Quartermaster's reaction, he made two bad starts of it before the Captain took him by both shoulders and said, "Steady on, Jean. Slowly if you please. We can't afford mistakes."

Mister Dorleac took a long breath and began. He said everything he had before, and even laid out a few more details, careful to mention Ciaran's most important facts as he had seen them. When Jean concluded, William stood a moment nodding. Then he stepped back to the waiting Carpenter and Blacksmith.

"Can you mend it?"

"Aye, Cap'n." Rummy said without pause, and that was enough. He did not ask her a second time. He had never had occasion to.

"Mister Dorleac, call Mister Pew and Mister Franklin to the quarterdeck."

"Aye, sah." Jean said and padded off again.

William turned to the Master Gunner. "Mister Youngblood. Be prepared to have the gunnery crew unlash the remaining guns and report to the quarterdeck."

"Aye, Cap'n." Mister Youngblood returned, moving aft at once and ordering each of the able seamen to prepare for orders regarding the main guns.

William turned to the Rummy and Mister Hawks. "We will soon make an alteration in course. I will send word down. Be prepared to make repairs when that time comes."

William made his way aft, stopping only at the galley before ascending to the quarterdeck. He found Mister Gage scrubbing out the few pots of the galley.

"Mister Gage, secure the crockery and have the stove fire put out. We may be tossed about shortly and we cannot afford the danger."

The Cook did not look alarmed. Instead, he looked intrigued. He was a good man and a most excellent cook, but underneath, William suspected that a quiet and unassuming warrior might be found. The Cook simply knuckled off a salute and began eyeing the ship's cleavers.

William motioned for Mister Badger to join him and those officers already gathered on Holy Ground. They all looked anxious, but none of them looked worried. "This is good." William thought. "Nerves without nervousness."

"Gentlemen, we have come to the proverbial crossroads. We have just enough distance from those two ships out there to pick our ground...our...water."

There were acknowledgments from all of them in some fashion or another. Some smiled. Some nodded. Each of them was aware of the possibilities which the night might bring. Each of them had already decided they liked one almost as much as another.

"Our odds at present are split. Those ships are our enemies or allies. It is unlikely that we have a third choice. If our enemies, then the odds are that we have less guns than them or we have more. Whatever the other odds may be, they are two ships to our one. I have enjoyed this disadvantage before and I am prepared for it. Unless there is any dissent, I am prepared to demonstrate our allegiance and begin the fray. I am not a man of false colors. I mean to wear no masks. I mean to show them who I am and what I am about and let the consequence of their decisions be upon their heads, so if you are prepared, Gentlemen, we shall begin the posturing."

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster nodded and walked aft to the flagstaff, where Miss Smith was waiting.

"Fly th' Spanish colours, gerl... "

She smiled in the darkness and went to work bending the flag onto the line. Mr. Lasseter walked to the scuttle and down into the wardroom and from there to his quarters, retrieved his Dragoon pistols, checked the prime in them and returned topside quickly. Walking towards the Captain he touched his hat.

"Cap'n... yer welcome ta go below n' arm yerself accordingly... I'll be here, as always..."

[Pew]

"Aye Cap'n, we'll see t' 't sah." I smile, nod my head a bit and rest my hand on the newly issued pistol tucked in my waist. ""The Dog is 'n good hands as 'lways," Eric Franklin said as he knuckled a salute and then headed forward again.

[William Brand]

Miss Smith ran out the Spanish Colors. They filled at once, carried off to Larboard by the prevailing wind. It was a large ensign, filling the length of the flagstaff. There was so much fabric in it, flapping about as it found the wind again and again, that the new marine on the poop deck was forced down to the quarterdeck for fear of smothering. It was a great banner of colors and there could be no mistaking who and what it represented.

William watched the two ships for any alteration in sail, course or identification. He never stopped watching them. Even when Dorian returned and offered him a chance to go below, he remained, waving off the idea of weapons for the present. He preferred to remain unfettered by pistols, and so he stood, armed only with a spyglass.

Mister Youngblood returned to the waist to stand among those anxious sailors on the gun deck, though his eyes never left the quarterdeck. He had his pipe out now, set in his teeth and unlit. He would take it out and put it back again every so often in a pantomime of smoking. He was running gunnery drills over and over in his head, issuing silent orders. Over the next few minutes they fired the guns first a dozen and then two dozen times in his mind. One of the gunnery crew made to ask him a question, and he raised his hand and clamped it over the sailor's mouth, never taking his eyes off the holy ground as he did this.

Mister Pew stood with his hand on the butt of the new pistol. He and Eric stood in the waist like men that were almost brothers. Had anyone chosen to look at them just then, they would have been hard pressed not to see the similarities of these men that were born strangers to one another. And if anyone could have read their minds, how alike they would have found them. Both men were thinking on bloodshed and defense. Both men were asking themselves, even now, what deeds that might not do in defense of one another and the ship, yet they looked no more poised for violence than a pair of school teachers.

Mister Lasseter stood close by the Captain. He looked as calm as a Sunday deacon, standing in quiet contemplation of holier things, though nothing could have been further from the truth. As the Quartermaster, the responsibility of the boarding crew fell first to him. It was he that would send orders down with such oft heard phrases as 'DO YOUR WORST!' and 'EXCEPT NO QUARTER!'. It was he that might run pell mell into the fray, first to die and last to surrender.

William closed the glass. "No change. No alteration." he said, almost to himself.

"Mister youngblood."

"Aye, Cap'n." The Master Gunner returned, putting away his pipe so quickly that it looked like a magic trick.

"Prime 'War' with powder at the fo'c'sle deck and be prepared to wake our neighbors."

[Dorian Lasseter]

A smile slowly spread on the QuarterMaster's face as the Captain gave orders to 'wake our neighbors'. The sun was just beginning to light the sky and you could see the far ships without the aide of a glass. Dorian watched as the sandglass was turned over and the word was passed foreward as to what the time was. He squinted slightly, then walked boldly over to the ships bell.

"Lads.... No need ta whisper now... if they ain't seen us now, they be blind as an old beggerman..."

He then took the fancy lanyard on the clapper in hand and rung out the seven bells of the morning watch. All eyes turned aft to the QuarterMaster who stood confidently next the the bell as the last strike resonated away. A slight nod of his head was all he did before returning to his well worn spot on deck. Mr. Youngblood had just finished loading powder and wadding into War and waved a linstock in the air, signaling it was ready. Even with the wind taking everything away from the quarterdeck, the smell of burning slowmatch found it's way aft...

~LARBOARD WATCH ON DUTY~

23 July, 1704 Aboard the Watch Dog

Seven Bells of the Morning Watch

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin woke in the dark of the surgery, an uneasy feeling settling around her. What time was it? Her mind raced but the ship was quiet, far more quiet than usual quiet. The bell above sounded loudly in the stillness. She sprang from her cot in one swift movement, her heart pounding as she counted the remaining bells. One, one-two, one, plus the one that woke her, was it five bells? Could she have slept through the nights bells for the first time since boarding? The last she remembered hearing was the sixth bell of the Mid-watch. Could this be the seventh bell of the Mid watch? She contemplated the possibility as she lowered herself to her cot and pushed her feet into her shoes. The ambient light was enough to see by. If there was this much light the bell she heard must be that of the morning watch. Was it five or seven? She would visit Mister Gage in the galley, he would know.

She'd no need to dress or change, she wore the only garments she owned save for the brown waist coat that would remain too large until she could alter it. Her right hand absentmindedly brushed the sleep from her eyes. The pounding in her chest subsiding she decided that if the bell was the seventh of the morning she would simply have leisure to break her fast. She could enjoy sipping her morning coffee on the deck and be ready when she was to report to the Bosun. Standing she wrapped her belt around her waist added the knife that Monsure Chanault had purchased for her just two days past and secured it as she navigated her way to the door opposite that of the galley. Crossing the hallway she became aware the absence of the familiar whiff of coffee brewing. Nor was there the expected aroma of a morning meal.

As Murin entered the galley Mister Gage and Callie finishing what looked to be cleaning after a meal. "Wot bell wuz det?" Callie responded simply "Seven o'the mornin." Murin rubbed her eyes again and Mister Gage told her that if she wanted coffee there was some cold left then he offered her one of the ships biscuits. "Capn's orders" Murin opened her mouth to question the pair but both were focused too intently on their work.

Exiting the galley to the deck Murin found most of the crew looking forward expectantly. Chewing the biscuit and sipping the cold brew to wash it down she noted only the gunners focus was aft, looking to the quarter deck above her. She stepped forward and turned to see the Captain, Quartermaster on the Quarterdeck stone still. The Spanish flag whipping in the wind flew above the poop deck. Facng forward again she found Mister Pew and Mister Franklin in the waist like twin sentinels. Murin shifted her focus to match those of the deck crew. Her jaw dropped as she spied a pair of ships on the horizon. She stood frozen, her eyes wide, her heart pounding in her chest once again, the smell of burning slowmatch confirming what she saw.

The WatchDog was ready for battle.

[William Brand]

The Captain gave the Master Gunner a nod. Just that and no more. Petee touched off the swivel gun and it rent the silence at once. The wind carried off the sound and it rolled away toward their neighbors. Even from the quarterdeck, William and Dorian could here the Starboard crew spilling themselves from their hammocks in alarm. Feet rushing. Men and women shuffling.

The die was cast.

Now the other ships were the interlopers. They were now the unknown element. Strangers to a declared crew. If they refused to demonstrate their allegiance by flag or force, the Watch Dog would have to decide the next move.

Any crew that had been abed before was gathered now along the rails. Not one man or woman, other than the marines of the armory, remained below. The Watch Dog was almost as quiet as it had been before, for little if any whispering followed. Everyone was watching for an ensign.

[Dorian Lasseter]

All hands were at the rail, watching. The QuarterMaster stood with his glass to his eye, watching the two ships for any signs of prepairing for battle. They were much closer now, and from the deck more details could be seen.

"Cap'n.... take up a glass an' 'ave a look..."

Willaim took the ships' glass and stepped to the rail. He mimmicked the QuarterMaster, peering at the interlopers.

"Well, Cap'n... th' big one... look at 'er lines.... ye think she be what I think she be?"

William took the glass from his eye, as did Dorian... in unison they said one word.

"Dutch...."

Taking up his glass again, Dorian studied a bit longer...

"Th' smaller looks ta be a English cutter, mebee a Barbados sloop e'en... lest they changed hands in a bad way... they gonna be runnin' guns out at us soon..."

He looked at William who was just staring out at the two ships with his naked eye. Mr. Lasseter wondered if he was reliving the past in his mind, or willing the two ships to make the first move. Whatever the case might be, he believed the crew would be ready for the orders given next. As the silent vigil continued, no one noticed the sandglass run out...

[William Brand]

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Eighth bell of Morning Watch. The Forenoon Watch begins.

A few minutes passed in silence. The Cook arrived on deck and squinted his way to the rail where he joined the others.

"The glass if you please..." William said so softly, that it was almost carried away by the wind, and indeed, he seemed removed but for this single attention to detail. The attending sailor rushed to turn the timepiece.

Then the moment for alteration came, and with it, the opportunity to change history and fortunes. The Dutch ship, for she was Dutch, unfurled the flag of that nation's sovereignty. It was drawn back away from her stern, and in the increasing light of predawn, it could not mistaken for any other ensign. Almost as an echo of power, the smaller vessel hoisted its flag of declaration, and many a British born subject aboard the 'Dog, was struck with a reaction of lost patriotism mixed with old hurts, for the flag of the English spilled open behind the cutter.

William went deliberately to the taff rail. "All hands to your stations! Mister Badger, prepare to alter course!"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian did nothing outwardly but allow a ferral grin to slowly spread across his face. Internally he began the chess game of battle upon the cerulian blue waves. All hands raced to their duty stations, the new Marines taking their appointments to heart stood at attention. Hands set to braces waiting for the Boatswains orders. Gun crews waited for the order to load and run out the heavy iron and brass beasts. The ship was alive.... ever alive and now waiting to dole out death. Ready to spill blood...

[William Brand]

The enemy ships maintained their course, almost due East. They made no alteration in their heading at all, but William suspected they were altering everything else aboard. Even now, muskets were being prepared, powder was being fetched up, gun crews were standing to attention and officers were giving advice.

William considered his many choices. If he turned the 'Dog Eastward, they would run into the wind in a parallel course to their antagonists, buying more time for the present, for they were still beyond the full range of one another's guns.

The Dutch ship was close enough now by eyes or glass to determine her make and much of her possibilities. Her sides were pierced with just as many gunports as the 'Dog along her gun deck, though the fluyt was advantaged in her spread of firepower, for her gunports were more evenly distributed along the length of her sides from stem to stern, while the Watch Dog's guns were grouped tightly forward from the surgery and galley. Both the fluyt and frigate bore bow chasers, which still made the tally an even one. Like the 'Dog, the fluyt bore tall bulwark rails and she showed no sign of swivels whatsoever, but this only meant that she might have many. They were only obviously different aft, for the 'Dog's quarterdeck was crowded with three cannons per side, while the fluyt bore only two gunports on her holy ground, larboard and starboard. In profile, there was no evidence of stern chasers, though a ship with a stern of such a high carriage was bound to have one or two cannon aft.

This was fruitless accounting, as William well knew. It was a small, fleeting reward of math, to count her great guns, for even though they might outnumber the fluyt, there was still the cutter. Fast. Dangerous.

It was a lithe looking device of war. The cutter bore ten swivels by his count. Ten that he could see. She was also pierced with four gunports per side, bringing the accounting well past the 'Dog. She was rigged fore and aft, which supplied her with advantages of wind not open to the light frigate. She was in short, all teeth and speed. They might subdue the fluyt in short order, but the cutter? It would race circles about them if given any ground. It was an English devil. A wolfhound at the fluyt's beck and call.

"Mister Lasseter. Make our course due East." William said, while moving to the ship's waist from the quarterdeck. Mister Youngblood was ordering the few men of the gunnery crews at his disposal to those guns still lashed against the bulwark rails. William added his hands to the those who rushed to free and reposition the bound cannons. Able seamen, cooks and officers set in against the knots and canvas.

[Dorian Lasseter]

"Aye Cap'n.... Mister Warren! Due East!"

Called out the QuarterMaster to the Coxswain at the wheel.

"Mister Badger! Adjust all sail!"

The Boatswain nodded sharply and bellowed his oredrs to those waiting.. Soon the ship was headed due east, all plain sail set and drawing fully. Dorain also assisted with the great guns, running lines through deck and rain rings, positioning the tools and making sure some of the sand they had taken from La Blanquilla was spread over the decks. He was spreading some from a bucket, making his way to the waist where he saw Murin standing, not sure where to help, she looked at the QuarterMaster then at her bandaged hand with a look of slight embarrasment.

"Aye Gerl, I know yer on light duty wi' that 'and... here, take this n' keep spreadin' it about."

She took the bucket, but had a questioning look on her face.

"What is it Gerl?"

"Mister Lass'ter, sir... ah, why d'we need sand on th' decks?"

He smiled hes ferral smile.

"Tha's ta keep folks from slippin'on th' blood o' others what gets spilt 'cross th' deck..."

[Black Syren]

It had been quite a while since she had accepted the additional powder and shot from Jean, he had gifted her with a smile and she had given him one in return. Time seemed to freeze, the anticipation both thrilling and nervewracking and as Jean scampered back down she glanced to where Ciarnan awaited and wondered if those ships were the enemy, just how many familiar faces would she see when all was said and done. She could feel her palms sweating and rubbed them anxiously along her slops and knew that if she had been on deck she would be pacing with nervous energy. As it was she was hard pressed to keep still, she felt uneasy and out of sorts, as if she was viewing the world in slow motion.

Shivering she brushed ruthlessly at a strand of hair that crossed her face and muttered to herself before slitting her eyes to the dark specters that ran just as dark as they. Licking her dry lips she looked down and could see the deck come to life below her and watched in wide eyed wonder the actions taken below. The life aboard ship was so exotically different from land, They all had to work closely together, pull their own weight, they were all treated equally even being a lass she was still a valuable member. The world suddenly muted itself as she watched them run the Spanish colors high and quickly turned to lift her glass to take in the twin ghosts response.

And it was not too long in coming as the dawn crept across the heavens like fiery fingers of portent, she felt her stomach drop to see both Dutch and English ensign. So this was it, trouble was a brewing and she swallowed hard wondering if she were the only one feeling such. Her eyes slitted again as she sat numbly for a moment, then took a deep breath and gave herself a mental shake. This was her family, these men and women aboard more kin to her than what she had left behind. The Dog was her home and she would be damned if any took that from her. Suddenly her heart began a warriors beat and her blood stirred with fire and she whispered “Come on ye Bastards! Ye mess with the Dog ye’ll not walk away from the encounter this I promise ye!” She spat.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin stopped short, his smile startled her, his words echoed in her mind. "… slippin'on th' blood …” She was reminded of the dark side of Aiden, the side that he showed the day she last saw him. She had surprised herself that day, to actually draw a knife and attack a man was, she thought prior, beyond her. The fact that she was sent Barbados was evidence that she could be moved to violence when provoked. Spreading the sand she knew that if needed she could again do so again. She would not become a victim.

Murin contemplated what might transpire today. What she may be willing to do for this ship she had just arrived on and the people she barely knew. What she might do to retain her own freedom. She had signed for her share of the recent fortune, had agreed to the articles of the Watch Dog, and was now a fugitive from British law, an exile from her own country. Looking around she spied mostly strangers. Nathan Bly and Billy Flint had come on deck with the majority of the Starboard crew. She considered them friends. Nathan and she had spent much of the past few days together along with Billy. She would be willing to stand and fight along side them and with the remainder of this crew, though she feared they would most likely end up protecting her. She felt useless again and silently thanked the Quartermaster for putting her to work. Looking about as she covered the deck in sand she saw a band of people who in any other situation may be out of place, but in this life they thrived. Murin had developed a respect for the men who led this collection renegades, Captain Brand and Mister Lasseter. These men were not like the men that had held Murin in their power the past three years. These two men were leaders not conquers.

The bucket empty she looked to where she may find more. The barrel was nearly full but with only one useful hand she needed the assistant of a tar to refill her bucket. She then looped the handle over her left arm again and continued her work. Why Was the Watch Dog posturing thus? Could they not have simply let the ships continue unchallenged? There were two of them, no doubt they out gunned and out numbered the crew of the Watch dog. There must be some information she was unaware of. Why did the Captain choose to this course of action?

[William Brand]

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Thomas Fitch was returning to deck with additional powder when he ran headlong into Mister Morgan. The Bosun's Mate thrust out an arm to catch the young sailor before he toppled backwards down the companionway.

"Sorry, sah." Thomas managed, out of breath.

"No harm done, lad. Mind the pressing crowd."

He sent Thomas on his way again and Thomas reached the ship's fifth gun, passing the powder off to Mister Johnson. There he remained by Nicholas, staring out towards the two antagonists on the sea.

"We WILL fight them, Sah...won't we?"

Nicholas, or 'Cut-Throat' as he was known to some, shook his head and shrugged, as if it was not a foregone conclusion. Then he smiled at the perplexed look that crossed the young face of Fitch.

"We won't fight 'em, Tom. We'll slaughter 'em." he said in a hushed and assured tone.

"That's if we fight them at all." Jonas McCormick added, his own face turned Northward to watch the ships. "We may thump our chests all day and ne'r fire a shot, lad. The three Captains may jus' circle and circle and ne'r fire.

Cut-Throat nodded. "They could lose one o' their's sinking us, see...and that would not be a victory. Better to circle."

"They'll fire shots at us, but not on us." Jonas continued. "Then they will call for our surrender. Yell 'STRIKE YOUR COLORS!', and we'll ju..."

Jonas stopped this talk at once, for Mister Youngblood had fixed a look upon the three of them. "Save your talk for Martinique!" he barked, and waited while the three went back to placing the great gun.

~ALL HANDS ON DECK

[Pew]

Throngs of crew not on watch had gathered at the rail. Each spare hand was busy unlashing cannon, setting the canvas, and loading the musket preparing for war; a complete community in total harmony. "How ironic," I thought to myself, "a harmonious war machine." Laughing, I turned aft from the fo'c'stle deck and watched and thought of Shakespeare and the dogeared page long read to me by my father:

"In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood."

[William Brand]

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Just prior to two bells of the Forenoon Watch

With every passing minute, the decisions of the moment became more important, more focused. Time was reaching that conjunction, lodged between favor and ill fortune, for heading into the wind gave them time to prepare the last of the great guns, but the cutter was slipping ahead of them along a parallel line. They were on even ground with the fluyt, which was almost equal to them in sail and firepower, but the Watch Dog was smaller. She was also lighter than the fluyt, having so recently shed much so much of her cargo at La Blanquilla, so as time passed, they slowly slipped ahead of the Dutch ship by degrees. Once they reached that point where the fluyt might bear behind them and the sloop, far ahead of them, might come about, they would be trapped on two fronts and faced by too many guns at once.

William plied his mind again and again with the arithmetic of the moment. He had returned to the quarterdeck to watch the fluyt and the cutter. After a time, he was joined by the Quartermaster and they stood awhile in silence.

"She's listing." Mister Lasseter said, in an observational, almost conversational tone.

"Aye" William returned, and said nothing else.

Both of them had observed the subtle way that the fluyt leaned. At first, it seemed like a distinction of perspective, but over the near hour since turning Eastward into the wind, the subtlety had increased. To most of the crew aboard, it would mean nothing, but William and Dorian had seen close action on the sea many times. This listing was a sign. A tick. A feint before the sword thrust. It spoke of the shifting weight of men and guns. It spoke of expectations.

"She'll come about soon." William said, and his tone was as grave as it had ever been and the second bell of the Forenoon Watch rang out over a relative silence.

"As will she." Dorian agreed, looking off in the direction of the cutter, which was bearing into the tradewinds with speed.

"The timing must be perfect. Prefect. The Dutch will swing about hard. We must be turned about before them, Dorian."

Then William changed. His full attention turned to the fluyt. Just the fluyt. He set the cutter aside in his mind as if it was a destination removed by months and weeks, not minutes. He stared into the profile of the fluyt and counted her guns one last time.

"Fetch up the Master Gunner and the Bosuns, Mister Lasseter. And bring up Mister Pew."

"Aye, Cap'n."

And still the Dutch fluyt listed to larboard. The casual contrapposto of an emanant death.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster stepped lively to the break in the deck at the waist and called down to the crew.

"Youngblood, Badger, Morgan, Pew! Lay Aft!"

He stood like a hawk and watched as those officers made their way to the quarterdeck at a quick pace. Once they were all in motion Dorian turned his attention back to the enemy ships. He watched as the Fluyt and the Cutter continued towards the Watch Dog, each on their own course, yet obviously working in tandem. Soon the officers were assembled on the Holy Ground. Dorian turned and motioned for them to join him and the Captain on the lee side of the deck. Mr. Warren shifted around to the other side of the wheel to make room for the throng of men.

"Cap'n... Th' officers 'r assembled..."

[William Brand]

July 23, 1704 - Preparing for battle

Between two and three bells of the Forenoon Watch

"Gentlemen. We are about to come about on the Dutch. Mister Youngblood and I have discussed the lack of sufficient gunnery crews, and while this has ever been a condition of this ship, it was never more important."

There were many nods.

"The presence of the cutter is difficult to ignore, but ignore it we will, Gentlemen. When we come about, it will be us and the fluyt. We must cripple that ship before we can afford any more regard for the other. Am I understood?"

"Aye, Sah." they chorused. Even Jim Warren nodded, understanding that he would be earning his pay at the helm today.

"Excellent. When the time is right, I will cry 'Havoc', Gentlemen, then everyone aboard must do their duty. No mistakes, Gentlemen. We cannot afford them, so it's havoc, Gentlemen. Havoc."

They chorused their agreement again, and William made a point of looking at each of them before he was assured.

"Mister Badger, prepare to come about."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Mister Youngblood, place your crews at the starboard guns. We're going to be very close to them when we come around."

"I won't mind the range, Cap'n."

"Try not to sink her, if you can, but make anyone else who might dare the field think twice about it."

Petee's face split into a grin of casual malevolence. "My work will make the carpenters weep, Sah."

William nodded appreciatively.

"Mister Pew, it seems that your marines shall be required earlier than expected."

"Aye, Sah, but not unprepared. Warriors, every one."

"Aye." William said, and his orders were coming quickly now. His quiet and careful words followed in quick succession, and there could be no denying the earnest warning in his tone as he clapped a hand on the Master-at-Arms shoulder. "Have your marines distribute arms among the crew, post haste. Put the Larboard and Starboard lookouts aloft in both tops and send up what materials may be lashed in for their protection. Barrel staves. Spare sailcloth. Anything that might stave off the musket fire. Go now. The sand is through the glass, Mister Pew. Mister Lasseter will follow after with boarding orders."

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster stepped closer and surveyed all in front of him. He slowly nodded and the ferral smile crept across his face again.

"Right... I want all those on Starb'd Watch duty ta be armed wi' a brace o' pistols, let 'em pick a cutlass, pike, r' axe as well... Add the Larb'd Marines that'r on deck ta th' lot... Fitch n' Wayne stay b'hind ta man th' gunns... O'course Warren, Morgan, n' you Mister Youngblood will stay aboard... We ain't got a second wave, all at once we go, overwhelm 'em..."

He looked at all the crew on deck around the gunns

"Most 'r gonna be at th' gunns til we close ta board... make sure they be ready when I call fer th' boarders..."

Every man on the quarterdeck nodded.

"You 'ave yer orders..."

Dorian turned and saw that Ms. Smith stood at the break of the poopdeck and smiled wider.

"Miss Smith... goode of ye ta be near by... I have a special chore... no... special mission fer ye..."

She smiled at the thought of a special mission and sauntered over to the Quartermaster. He bent down and whispered into her ear. she nodded several times the smile widened and sparkle in her eyes becoming firey. Dorian stood up and nodded to her. She looked at the ever closer Dutch ship and cracked her knuckles. Mr. Lasseter turned his attention away from her and to the surrounding sea. Watching the Fluyt and the Cutter manuvering for position, all the while running scenarios through his head.

"Cap'n.... we are ready... "

He stepped to the base of the mizzen mast and pulled his personal half pike from its spot and leaned on it. He twisted the shaft back and forth slightly, the only outward sign that he showed of nervous energy...

[Pew]

With a loud whistle from the Quarterdeck, all heads within earshot immediately turned my way. "MARINES , FRONT 'N CENTER," I bellowed. Siren and Mister Ciaran remained aloft, but looked back. I waved for them to remian at their posts. Each man came running with a musket in hand and their cartridge pouch bounding from their backs. I jumped the few stairs and landed solidly on the deck.

"Gentlemen, time 's o' th' essence. Upon the Captain's cry of 'havoc', put ev'ry thing y' can into th' Dutchie. Each of you on th' Starb'rd watch grab yerself a brace o' pistols, a cutlass, pike, r' axe, you'll be boardin' 'er first." Each member of the the Marines nodded and flashed a wry grin.

"'n th' meantime, Mister McGinty, Mister Morrell you 're t' go b'low and find anythin' t' lash to the tops t' protect yerselves from musket fire, empty the half kegs and barrels, spare canvas, crates an' th' like. It'll b' yer hides in th' top, take wot ye can an' lash 't t' it. Jerrod, Lucky an' Maurice, get 'em up there, an' quick. 'gain, it'll be you gents't'll b' boardin' the Dutchie." They returned a quick nod and flew down the ladder stairs.

I point at the next two men in the small circle, "Andrew, Manus, go b'low an' get Lawrence and Robert started t' hand out th' arms an' axes t' th' crew." I pointed at Lawrence and Robert, "you two, prepare fer a board, arm yerselves wit' a brace o' pistols, a cutlass, pike, r' axe." I smacked Manus on the back and he quickly turned with the other three marines on his heels. "Oh and gents, dinnot ferget th' grapples."

"Mister Flint, you'll 'ave th' eyes fer those aloft. We'll b' comin' 'pon their Starboard side, make sure th' marines forward know. Find 'em a new target when th' first goes down. It'll g't busy," I put my hand on his shoulder, "Yer th' best t' handle it."

"Claude, Alan, make sure y' c'n lay enough fire down t' get th' gun crews. Cover y'selves 'n th' Starboard side, 't'll be where we meet the fluyt. Make sure ye get selves an'oer musket, and load 't. I want t' get off two shots t' their one. Quickly now gents."

I looked at Eric and he nodded back to me. "'tis been a long time coming Preston," he stated with eyes wandering to the Dutch ship.

"Aye," I replied, "too long." I clapped Eric on the back and we moved to the starboard side of the ship where John and Louis had brought up several pieces of crate to lash to the main and fore tops.

"Get yerselves up there lads."

[William Brand]

"Very good, Mister Lasseter." William said with a short nod, pleased to see the marines already returning to the weatherdecks with the small arms. All of the great guns were standing ready to be run out. William went forward to the taff rail and called to the Master Gunner. "Mister Youngblood! Send a gunnery crew aft to the Ward room to uncover the gunnery compartment. We won't have to time to make it ready afterwards."

"Aye-Aye, Sah!" He said, already motioning for Brisbane's and three men to hurry aft.

William turned to the Quartermaster. "With all prepared, I must arm myself. If the Dutch alters course, come about as hard and fast as the 'Dog will allow."

"Aye, Cap'n."

The Captain went down the scuttleway into the Ward Room and crossed the open space at once. The gunnery crew assigned to the stern chasers had already spilled in from the passageway door and were just taking up the trapdoors which hid the eight pounders there. They were forced a short pause as he crossed the floor. Then they flung them open to reveal the recently refreshed stern chasers.

William entered his quarters, tossing his coat into his hammock as he did so. He went to his sea trunk and flipped it open, delving through clothing and books to fish out what lay beneath. When it was all but emptied, he pressed down on the corner which hid the false bottom, to reveal his most guarded belongings. The space was tightly packed with a few rare and unusual items, each with their own history. He took out the leather pouch with the celtic cross on the front. It was suspended from a long leather cord, which he slipped over his head, tucking the pouch into his shirt. Then he fetched out the oiled cloth which held his Jambiya and Shafra, tucking them through the wide belt at his waist. He closed the interior compartment and shut the lid, leaving his discarded clothing. He grabbed up his blunderbuss and the haversack which contained his brace of Jacobean pistols and powder as he went out, slipping this over his head, opposite his cutlass, leaving his discarded coat behind.

As he crossed the Ward Room again, he was forced to jump precariously across the open gunnery compartment on the beams which generally supported the floor when it was shut up. Nigel Brisbane was the only man standing in the space as he ordered the crouching gunnery crew about Freki and Geri. William clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

"Good man."

Returning to the deck, William found the whole ship prepared to engage the enemy, which was now so hard upon them, that cannon fire from their bow chasers was emanant.

It was in this moment, stepping onto the quarterdeck, that William chanced to see Patrick Godfrey standing in the waist, forward. He was a step up on the gun carriage of the eight pounder, Beelzebub, and his face and shoulders were lit by the dawn. Patrick was standing there for only a moment before Harold Press hauled him down again to the deck, but William's memory was already touched in a profound way. The epiphany was absolute.

Mister Lasseter was stepping forward just then, for the Dutch had begun their turn. He was in the very midst of ordering the Watch Dog about when William rushed forward.

"BELAY THAT ORDER! HARD TO STARBOARD MISTER WARREN! MISTER BADGER, MAKE OUR COURSE DUE SOUTH!"

July 23, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Three bells of Morning Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

Just as Dorian began to give the order to come about to Larboard, William burst forth and countermanded the order. Dorian stood with his mouth agape for a moment, turned and looked at the Captain and saw a man posessed. The crew scrambled to fulfill the new commands and Mr. Badger was realing, yet acted as if the countercommand was nothing he hadn't expected. Stepping to the Captain's side Mr. Lasseter regained his composure.

"Cap'n Wot's in yer head, Aye?"

[William Brand]

"Epiphany is the prophecy on the tip of our tongues." Mahdi had once said to William, but William thought that this answer would come out sounding like madness, given the moment, so he said nothing. He did not have the time nor the disposition to explain for the present. He wasn't even sure how he would explain the sudden change, or the epiphany behind it. It might take too long. Instead, he rushed to the Larboard rail to watch the cutter altering her course. He sprang up to the poop deck to find the fluyt already coming to a course favorable to an attack on the Watch Dog's stern.

Mister Badger came rushing aft to the holy ground, having issued orders counter to his previous instructions. He looked ruffled, but not angry, his face alive with questions.

The Watch Dog pressed forward and Southward with the Dutch fluyt falling slowly in behind them. They would have their range soon and the 'havoc' that William had spoken of before would be the enemy's cannon fire on their stern. The single gunnery crew left to ready the sternchasers was all too aware of the fluyt now as it bore down on the Watch Dog. They, more than anyone else, sat in harm's way, as did the frigate herself.

As if moved by this very thought, William called the Master Gunner to the quarterdeck. Mister Youngblood used the opportunity of invitation to ply the Captain with questions. "Sah, I don't understand. Shall I divide and move the crews?"

"No, Petee. Man the Starboard guns, but have three crews quickly arm Jeanie, Buttercup and Beelzebub with a double charge of powder, and a double load of roundshot, if you please. Then man each of those six guns with one man each, powder monkeys and galley help will do for the slow match."

Mister Youngblood could not hide his surprise, for all five of these guns followed the forward curve of the Larboard bow, and not one of them was pointed towards their enemies. A ship would have to pass forward of the 'Dog's waist before the first of those guns could do any service.

"Sah...?"

"If you please, Mister Youngblood."

He snapped off a salute and an 'Aye'Aye' before rushing forward again.

William sent the same orders down the scuttleway to Mister Brisbane with specific instructions for each cannon.

"Aye Cap'n. A double charge of powder and a two rounds of grapeshot for Freki and round shot for Geri." he repeated back, sounding no less perplexed.

William ordered the same thing done to the Starboard six pounders, only with the exception that round shot was to be added.

There was no shortage of stares about the deck.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The QuarterMaster creased his brow at not having his question answered, but knew the Captain had his hands full with whatever tactic he was arranging. The crew were running about like a nest of angry bees, but with a mission to accomplish, every one had their job to do, and do it they would. The Fluyt loomed ever closer, so close that those on the quarterdack could hear commands being given from the officers of the Dutch ship. Dorain strained to hear the commands and was soon rewarded with the command to fire.

"Geef brand!"

A loud boom of a single cannon from the starboard side of the Fluyt, a common signal to 'heave to', followed by an officer shouting through a speaking horn.

"Capitán, tirón a, por favor!"

Mister Lasseter grinned.

"They speak goode spanish fer Dutchies"

As he looked back towards the trailing ship another voice was heard.

"Geef brand!"

The Bowchasers on the Fluyt erupted in flame and smoke. The Starboard stern lantern of the Watch Dog exploded in a shower of twisted metal and glass and a splintering thud was heard along the starboard quarterdeck as roundshot tore through the bulwarks just foreward of Leviathan, sending splinters of the rail into the waist.

"Oh, they's gonna pay fer tha'... twas a damn fine lantern..."

Dorian spoke as if it were a comment made at dinner.