The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

As the day slipped by, William ordered the 'Dog to fall off to the North by degrees until the Maastricht had moved well ahead of the frigate. Then he ordered a course which would take them across the Maastricht's waist to a position far off her Starboard quarter. This action occupied an otherwise unoccupied crew, though a few of them made minor repairs as they went.

Still, the day remained uneventful, with mile after mile of open sea passing under them without sighting or sound. It was prize weather, and if their luck held, they would reach Martinique without incident.

July 24, 1704 - Aboard the 'Dog

Eight bells of Afternoon Watch

With their new position set, William retired to the ward room to clean his personal arms. He laid out his cutlass and pistols and carefully cleaned and oiled each weapon. With a surplus of time available to him, he cleaned the arms at a leisurely pace, pausing to take supper when it came. He invited Misters Pew, Warren and Youngblood back with their arms, that they might clean and eat and talk of prize money spent in port. Miss Smith was also invited to join in at table.

~Starboard Watch on Duty~

[Black Syren]

The ringing of eight bells assured her her watch was over and she smiled wearily at the Ajayi who was climbing to take her place. He was perhaps the quietest on the ship, and she loved to hear him speak for his voice was accented and musical. She slipped into the rigging and nearly lost her grip as the musket swung hard against her as the Dog leapt through a wave. The sea had grown rougher in the past two hours and she felt large steadying hands upon her holding her steady. Her muscles quivered and she placed her forehead against the ropes and caught her breath and looked down. Twas a long fall, she thanked Ajayi huskily smiling at the concern in his dark eyes and climbed down more slowly.

Once her feet hit the deck she was swaying with exhaustion and wanted nothing more than to find her hammock but her musket needed tending, and then she must eat. Rubbing at tired eyes she moved towards the armory to take care of her weapon weaving through her fellows with a few greetings and once finished moved to the galley and only took a crust of bread and a tankard of water. Eating quickly and finishing her water she moved to take her ease in her hammock. All too soon the rocking of the ship had her deeply asleep and the trauma of the day before had her dreaming of her little brother and her step father.

[William Brand]

July 24, 1704 - Aloft on the 'Dog

Two bells of the First Dog Watch

Ajayi had been aloft his share of times, but never as a lookout until now. For a man of his stature and courage, he was not overly fond of heights. It wasn't so much the altitude over the deck, but the attitude of the mast itself, which swayed considerably from side to side even in the best of weather.

The Watch Dog was pointed into the wind. The Maastricht was now off the larboard quarter and maintaining a more northerly course. In the distance, the Heron passed before them at regular intervals as it tacked first one way and then another.

As a slave, Ajayi had ignored the variations that a ship might employ with regards to wind and course, but now that he was a part of a crew, he paid close attention to every change. He noted how the helm and sails were employed together in order to compensate for wind and current at the same time. He also noted how the Heron's fore and aft rigging allowed her more egress through the tradewinds, while the Maastricht and Watch Dog plowed into the wind with less ease. He did not understand every principle which made this possible, but where education failed him, intuition took over.

Now, the principles of a lookout were much more obvious to him. Having spent much of his life in open deserts and grassy lowlands, he was used to watching horizons. And as a slave, doubly so.

~Starboard Watch on Duty~

[Black Syren]

After a few hours sleep she awoke in her hammock unable to sleep more, her thoughts on her beloved brother and his death at the hands of a madman. Her step-Father had lured her mother in with false proclamations of love, when in truth he wanted to lay claim to the only man having the heart of the famous courtesan. Though her mother had been clever knowing the ways of men and had protected her wealth leaving it for Treasure upon her death. The Earl nearly destitute in funding but rich in land had coveted Treasure for that wealth and tried to bend her to his will and eventually killing her brother to force her compliance causing her to flee.

And now from a position of wealth to freedom. A freedom she was grateful for with every breath she took, her brother Anthony would have loved the sea, as she did. It was both generous and treacherous and always filled with Surprises. She owed William ,now the Captain much, if not for him she would not be here at all and perhaps not be alive herself. It was true her mother had trained her to follow in her steps and readily could she do so if needed. But William had offered her a different life and one more eagerly embraced, though she would never forget her roots, who she was or who her mother had been.

Feeling the need for the sea upon her face she moved soundlessly past those asleep in their hammocks and sighed feeling her spirit lighten as the sea winds tugged at her loose hair, her clothing. How different the sea looked at night, the sea black and gilded by the touch of the stars and the moon. Staying free of those working she glanced to her post to see Ajayi and waved once to him and was smiling as he returned her wave. He was so different, quiet and yet she sensed a ruthless quality to him, like an animal that lay in wait. Perhaps it was part of being a slave, she knew well what it was like to not have options though her situation had differed greatly from his. Turning from him she glanced out over the sea, riveted by it’s dark beauty and laid her hands upon the rail eyes closing allowing herself to be willingly seduced by the sea. Opening her eyes once more she took in the Heron and the Maastricht two so very diffrent ships whose destinies would now be forever changed by their attack. 'You should have let sleeping dogs lay" She whispered.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The trades had strengthened as the day wore on, and with the tacking to and fro of the Heron she had become quite lively. Captain Lasseter had all plain sail set now, so they could keep ahead of the other ships while on their serpentine course. Young Godfrey had been relieved of his time at the tiller when the new watch came on duty, and he readily gave it over as he was near shaking with fatigue but would never have admitted he was so worn. The exhilaration of being in control of a ship was ambrosia to the young man that he would not give it up until commanded to do so. He wobbled his way foreward and below, made his way to the galley and wolfed down his meal and proceeded to stumble to his hammock.

On deck the small ship danced across the swells, her sails taut in the wind. Dorian stood on the lee side of the holy ground and lay one hand on the rail, touching it gently as if laying a hand on a loved one. The light in his eyes, if one were to look into them, said much about how he felt on this Ship he was given to command. He lightly stepped to the binnacle, checked the compass, the traverse board and finally the logbook. With a nod he spoke.

“Change course….”

[William Brand]

July 24, 1704 - Aboard the 'Dog

One Bell of Second Dog Watch

The last bell of the First Dog Watch came and went with little change marked on the 'Dog. The Maastricht was so slow, that William was able to ply whatever course he needed out of the frigate with the bare minimum of crew aloft and on deck. He was in a good mood, and so he also spent much time milling among the crew and conversing with crew members old and new. This luxury was not often afforded him, and it gave him a chance to know their minds.

Most, were anxious to go ashore and know the finer things of life. Others were worried, given the increase in hostilities among so many nations. Some were just willing to face the days one moment at a time and looked forward to long nights ashore.

One of the many conversations which William had involved him and the new sailmaker. As usual, Miss McDonough was finding it difficult to find her place within the machinery of the 'Dog. Her hand had given her no small trouble, and having labored so long in so short a lifetime, she seemed anxious not to disappoint anyone. William reassured her that any woman who would bleed her wounds to make sail, then take up an inexperienced weapon to fight enemies she had not known in defense of fellow shipmates she barely knew, had earned her rest and recovery without any further requirements of service. He ordered her to rest and enjoy the days to come without thought to labor.

"You have done service enough and no more service will be asked of you until you are much recovered."

He also invited her to take supper with all of the ship's women tonight in the great cabin. He would make it available to all and Miss Smith was to have the charge of the great chair there.

"I will sup in the galley and drink at the taffrail, and all the ladies of the 'Dog shall have the privacy of the ward room to speak of French lads and petticoats ashore."

William found his own idea so pleasing that he sent for Miss Smith to have her gather all the women at the ward room at First Watch Watch as reward for their good service. He wished that Miss Constance and Miss Rummy could be aboard for it, but nothing could be done of it, so he sent down orders that Mister Lazarus should serve at table, unless the women should prefer more privacy.

"No woman is to work until they have finished whatever conversation and games they wish. I will go and tell the Doctor." And with that William went down to the surgery.

[Pew]

I tuck the scarf in my shirt and fly up the ladder stairs. Searching for the Captain topside, one of the crew tells me he has already gone below decks. Back down the ladder stairs, I find him near the surgery. I stop him and grab his forearm.

"Cap'n, I need ta speak with ye quickly. We 'ave acquired somethin' ye may wan' t' take a look at." The Captain furrowed his brow as I pulled the scarf from my shirt and held it by my side out of sight. He eyed the silk scarf and looked back at me knowing I did not have such a scarf in my personal belongings.

"Very well Mister Pew."

[William Brand]

William invited the Master-at-Arms to follow him to the ward room. It was quiet there, and the women of the ship had not yet arrived to take possession of it for the night. William closed the door and gestured to the table at the center of the room as he laid his hat aside.

"Should I sit down, Mister Pew?"

"You may wish to, Cap'n."

"Very well. " William said, and in truth his feet were tired. He drew out the chair and placed himself in it, smiling at the fevered excitement on the face of Mister Pew.

[Pew]

"I found th' pistols sah, very nice an' all. But, as I placed them on one o' the crates, I knocked ov'r th' tarred chest that held 'em. Th' chest hit th' deck and sounded, well, funny y' know. I kicked the chest ov'r and found it had a false bottom, well, I found this."

I pulled the silk scarf from behind my back and laid it on the table. It was still wrapped around the object and so I pushed it to in front of the Captain. I laid both my hands on the table and leaned in.

[William Brand]

William noted that the scarf seemed heavily weighted down by the object inside, so he was not surprised to find the soft gleam of gold staring back at him when he opened it. Still, the object itself was surprising. When it was all unwrapped, William found himself staring a a very large medallion of gold hung on a heavy torque of a chain. The interlocking and twisted links of the chain were woven together in tight, overlapping patterns, so that the weight of the chain alone was significant, and as a result of the craftsman who made it, beautiful.

The medallion which hung upon it was also amazing. It was fashioned entirely of gold but for a single, small, unremarkable stone set in the center. It was ancient to be sure, for the design was a woven one which first hinted at some Pictish or Northern origins. Like the work of Celts, the figures upon it were woven into patterns and shapes which interlocked like knots. However, closer examination did not yield more answers to its origin, but rather more possibilities. The volume of gold and some of the work in the piece also hinted towards the possibility of Mayan make or some other New World nation outside the scope of William's understanding.

"The work is exceedingly fine." William said, and for the moment he was able to set aside the value of the piece by weight alone and appreciate it for its craftsmanship. "I give you permission to discover as many more of these as you may, Mister Pew." William added smiling.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin stood for a moment after Captain Brand smiled down at her excusing himself to look for Tudor and finalize his plans of allowing the ships women to gather in the great cabin. The conversation had been a brief but elicited a range of emotion from the lass. Her thoughts were mirrored by her expressions as they morphed from that of a chastised child, through the blush of one unaccustomed to praise, pride in what had been accomplished, amazement that she should not work, to noticeable surprise at the suggestion of a gathering of the ships women. The young lass’ maw stood agape as she stared after the remarkable man. She lifted her hand and absentmindedly brushed the ever-present stray curls from her eyes as they lit up with a smile and the corners of her lips turned up. How kind he was. He was the captain, he had no need to speak to her. He seemed to want to converse. As she continued to watch the captain move on her mind remained on this thought.

[William Brand]

William secured the heavy medallion found by the Master-at-Arms in the lock box holding the Ilex fortune. Then the two men vacated the ward room as Miss Smith arrived to take possession of it for the evening.

"I have preparations to make, gentlemen."

William and Mister Pew both tipped their hats as they went out. William was mindful to take a bottle of his best as he left.

Mister Youngblood was forward of the gun deck, half way up the stairs to the fo'c'sle. He stood there without a hat, which was uncommon for him. He was packing his pipe for a smoke as the Captain and Master-at-Arms came forward. They all went up to the fo'c'sle to drink and speak on subjects regarding women. They talked at length on the subject, passing advice both real and comical between them. A few anecdotes were shared until a lull in the conversation came and remained awhile.

"I could use some music." Mister Pew mused allowed, interrupting the silence and the Master Gunner's smoke rings.

"Aye. A shame to have the carpenter aboard the Maastricht." William said, looking towards the fluyt.

The third bell of the Second Dog Watch rang and for a moment they listened to the echo of bells from the Heron and the Maastricht. The Heron's bell was diminished some for its distance, as was the Maastricht's due to the wind.

"One of the Dutchies plays the fiddle, Cap'n." Mister Pew said, when they bells were silent again.

"Is that so...? I shall have to procure him one at port."

"And a fife player." Mister Pew added with emphasis. "We 'ave enough women aboard f' dancing."

"And men for fighting over them." Mister Youngblood returned.

"Aye." William said, nodding. "The sooner we are ashore, the better for all."

July 24, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between three and four bells of Second Dog Watch

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Heron continued on her course, ranging a mile in each direction from the true line of travel. The Watches changed, the evening meal was served to those off watch, the Watches changed again, the second wave of the evening meal served. As this was in progress, young Kalfkin made his way onto the quarterdeck with a plate and tankard.

“Capitain Lasseter, Miss Moore sent me wit her compliments…”

“Thank ya kindly Lad… Take it to my quarters, I shall be there shortly…”

“Aye sir…”

Realizing he could not salute the captain, the boy stood a moment flustered, then ducked his head and turned away, heading below. Dorian turned slightly seaward, hiding a half smile. Turning back, he put on a stoic face and addressed Mister Brisbane.

“I shall be below at my dinner… You have the deck…”

“Aye-aye,Cap’n…”

Dorian turned to head below but stopped. He turned back and looked at Nigel a moment.

“By th’ by… How is your eye, Nigel?”

Mister Brisbane was slightly taken aback, as none had bothered to inquire of his injury since the doctor had seen him. He appeared to wink a lot when the wind got up, and it was bloodshot, but appeared fine otherwise. He reached a hand towards the injury but did not touch it.

“Tis fine, Cap’n… still tender on occasion… Doctor says it’ll be fine, just gonna be distractin’ fer a time is all…”

“Very well…. If it is bothersome, ya have my permission ta put another on th’ tiller. Let me know if it worsens…”

“Aye, sir.”

Dorian nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped off the holy ground. He was soon below and in the wardroom. The plate of vittles still hot next to the tankard full of rum he suspected. Sitting on the beat up chair he slid closer to the table as the smell wafted into his face. Boiled beef and potatoes, a hint of thyme… rice, a biscuit and a wedge of cheese. He sighed contentedly and stabbed a piece of potato with his fork and began to eat. It was somewhat bland, but not overly so, quite palatable. He ate slowly, looking through the notations of the former captain in the ships log as he did so. Bells rang, another change of watch occurred, along with a change of course. Mister Brisbane and Mister Tucker were doing a fine job at being his officers, keeping abreast of the orders he had given. He finished his plate, but slowly drank his rum for a time. He even closed the logbook and sat in silence, listening to the Heron ‘talk’ to him. He closed his eyes and listened intently at what she was saying, felt what she was telling him through the deck, the bulkheads and overhead. He listened to the creak of the rudder, the footfalls of the crew on her deck, the singing of her rigging and sails. His mind had been turned to the Watch Dog and now he needed to learn a new song, the Heron’s song… He sat this way for some time, listened to the ships bell toll out the time, listened to the sea rush past her sides, the wind pull at all above board. When the ships bell was struck thrice, he opened his eyes. The light was beginning to fade, so he found flint and steel, lit a taper and with that lit the candle lantern on the overhead. Blowing out the taper, he left the wardroom and head on deck.

24 July, 1704

The Heron

Three Bells of the First Watch

~Larboard Watch on Duty~

[Bloody Bill Flint]

As the captain came on deck Bill Flint took the opportunity to push his agenda which brought him aboard The Heron in the first place.

"Captain if I may be so bold as to beg a boon with you I should like to schedule some time to train the marines in their duties before we make landfall. Indeed considering the performance of the ships original crew during the boarding perhaps a little traing for all is in order?"

[Silkie McDonough]

Midway through the first Dog watch Murin was summoned to the great cabin of the Watch Dog. She had taken time to wash, something that required one more hand than available to be done properly but the lass managed to keep the dressing on the bad hand dry, facing Doctor Fitzgerald with the dressing in less than perfect condition was something best avoided at this point. Miss McDonough donned the over sized shirt and breeches acquired from the deceased rescuer on LaBanquilla in favor of the torn and blood stained clothing she had worn in battle. She then shrugged on the over sized brown waistcoat that Monsieur Chanault had acquired for her the day after her arrival on board cinching it at the waist with the sword belt. Once at the door of the great cabin she sheepishly peeked in the open door.

Mr Gage stood at the table speaking with Miss. Smith about the meal and what food was yet to come. Laid on the table was a feast unlike any Murin had ever partaken. She had served such meals but to sit at the table and sup with the woman of the ship ...her mind flew over the waves to her home her mother, and the women she had grown up watching and emulating. Women of power and determination, strength and wisdom. She recalled that she too was once a woman determined to make a change in her world. The past three years had been spent trying to be unseen. What had happened to the lass that had fought beside her love for what was rightly theirs? Murin knew her former self remained within her. That lass had boarded the Maastricht just yesterday, fought along side the crew of the Watch Dog.

Siren arrived and stood at Murin's elbow for a moment then Tudor beckoned them "Come, sit." Murin managed a weak smile as she shuffle forward silently.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As Dorian gained the deck, he was approached by Mister Flint, one of the marines aboard the Heron. He queried the captain about drilling those marines aboard. Dorian stood a moment in thought and surveyed the deck.

“Aye Mister Flint… On th’ morrow, once th’ lads finish work on th’ Jollywatt. Then there will be space on deck to do so… I would say during the forenoon watch… I’ll have to assign someone else as lookout fer that time…”

[Black Syren]

Siren looked to the woman currently present, Miss Smith was already seated and looking as bewildered as Murin. Indeed Siren too was wondering at this gift and thinking she should be at her post and not taking tea with the women. But she was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and too William was wily and he had his reasons for separating the ladies. Her mind turned this over as Murin seated herself and seeing the company would be quiet Siren decided to tease Mr. Gage by flashing him a charming smile.

Then she turned to Miss Smith and Murin inclined her head to both and regally sat. Blue green eyes danced with mischief as she decided to break the ice “I do not know about you ladies, but I cannot wait to reach the Isle and find me a handome rogue with dark eyes, an air of tradgedy and a feather mattress!” That said she reached across the table and picked up a small piece of cheese and chewed waiting for her bold words to break the tension.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor laughed at Siren's jest as she gracefully moved around the table filling wine glasses for the ladies that had just arrived. "Indeed," Concurred, a hint of silent mischeif in her eyes.

Slowly, one by one, all those able to attend filtered in and were given drink as they took their seats at the well set table. Tudor easily slipped into the role hostess, orechesterating conversation and keeping the mood celebratory and though she only wore her worn shirt and red petticoat, she leant the common clothes an unspoken elgance with movement and manners. Soon, laughter and light chat filled the room and Tudor stood in front of her chair and lightly tapped on her glass, seeking the attention of the room. "Ladies," The hum of noise lowered to silence, and Tudor raised her glass. "A toast if I may." She paused to let everyone raise their goblets. "First to the Captain, who's kind manner and generous nature has given us this lovely little fete." There were some nods of agreement. "Secondly, to the Chef, Mister Gage, who's expertese has seen us well fed these past weeks and who's incredible talent will have us dining like princesses tonight." Hearty "here heres!" were mummered. "And finally - to us. We serve on a fine crew, lasses, and we are an elite amongst ourselves. Not often will you see women of such strength and merit, who have been bold and brave enough to gouge out a place for themselves in a world dominated by men. To our strength, to our ability and talents. To the women of the Watch Dog!" Cheers and the clinking of glasses echoed her. "And here is too a fine time ashore and a fine meal ahead of us!" she sat down, and with that, they begain to eat.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Having received the answer he'd hoped for The Redlegs knuckled his brow with a wide grin.

"Grammercy Captain."

He spun sharply on his heel and returned to his duties, but already his mind was full of the lessons he would impart to his fellows. He would teach them to fight as he had learned to during the long conflict against the French and Algonquins. The colonial way of warfare. Short, fast, and brutal, with none of the formality found in the old world. Even now he was mentality adapting the techniques to naval warfare. These would be a new class of marine, unrivaled anywhere in the world. His heart filled with a burst of pride and he went about his business.

[William Brand]

July 24, 1704 - The Ward Room of the 'Dog

Four bells of First Watch

The women ate and talked. The subjects of the conversation were varied, as much as the company itself was varied. You could not have gathered together a more eclectic and unusual list of guests to one table.

Tempest sat, glass always poised as if in thought, quiet but for her occasional insights and unusual interjections. She brought to the table a mix of suggested histories and secret, unspoken anecdotes. Even when they chanced to call her by name throughout the meal, they could not have known that this, even this, was a borrowed title.

Siren, born to a station both high and low, by its very definition, brought no small amount of interesting tales and half forgotten experiences to the conversation herself, often dropping names of great elevation as easily as one drops the names of old friends, though in truth, many of the names she mentioned had had only a passing influence in her life.

Meg, daughter to an unremarkable parentage, but of good stock, made her share of comments throughout the evening touching on each subject with her country humor. She seemed to be possessed of a great many wisdoms in the form of old sayings and quaint cliches.

Murin, who was the most like Meg of anyone there, and yet of a vastly different cloth herself, was able to make enough conversation to carry herself in the room. She had known hard work, like Meg, but little of the reward. Still, even the quiet Murin was spilled from her shy corner by the drink which was passed liberally around the table and the food which followed by courses.

All the while, as the women of so many origins talked, Tudor kept the table. She did this as hospitably as any Captain might, enjoying every interjection, story and song which crossed the table before her. She didn't mind the vast differences in her guests, for she delighted in experience, and she had a chance to reflect then on something which Captain Brand had said almost a month prior.

"Equal courage should be rewarded by equal celebration. That equality shared shoulder to shoulder in blood, should also be shared at supper."

She came back from her thoughts to a bawdy song which Siren was trying to remember as she went through the first verse amidst her own laughter.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mr. Flint had snapped off a salute and was gone with a lightness to his step. Captain Lasseter watched him for but a moment before turning to other matters at hand. He pulled out the logbook and paged to the last entry. He was about to call for the lanterns to be lit when the powder monkeys made their way aft, each with a ships candle lantern. Godfrey headed to the stern lights, while Kalfkin approached the binnacle. He opened the shutter on the binnacle lamp, drew out the nub of a candle and replaced it with the new candle from his lantern. The boy knuckled his brow and stepped away, heading to see how Godfrey was doing. Dorian watched as the two boys finished lighting the ships deck lights, jostling each other then straightening up as they passed him, and breaking into giggling as they headed to the bow.

“Goode Lads…”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Dorian looked up at Nigel, not realizing he had made his comment out loud and nodded to the Coxswain.

“Goode lads, along with th’ rest o’ th’ crew… End o’ this watch, ‘ave the men retire from workin’ on the Jollywatt til sun up… no use workin’ on such in th’ dark.”

“Aye, sir… would hate fer one of ‘em to hurt ‘emselves, bleed all over the fine work they’s doin’.”

“Ah hmmm…. Indeed…”

[Silkie McDonough]

As the meal continued and wine poured liberally around the table Miss McDonough continued to feel more comfortable, less her self, or was it more her old self. She noted that the others in the room used proper manners like those she had seen while working in the plantation house, save Meg. Between the tutoring that Kate had given her and from observation while serving she found herself affecting the same airs with little effort. In the back of her mind, just at the edge of wine tinged thoughts, this troubled her.

She mused that these women, so bold and strong were just as pretentious as the lords and ladies of the British court that use to view the native born Irish as lesser beings. She then recalled the vision of the Dutch colors falling to the deck after the sharp blade of the captain’s steward brought them down. Thoughts of Siren perched high above the fray, a deadly guardian angel. Doctor Fitzgerald fervently working to save as many as she could, turning none away. Her thoughts continued on each female crew member until she was rethinking her position. The actions of these women spoke louder than their courtly behavior. Meg even displayed a vague air of courtly manners in this setting; perhaps the wine was to blame.

Murin giggled. Siren again tried her song. Meg chiming in with the correct words but her voice was such that the tune was nearly unrecognizable. Doctor Fitzgerald seemed preoccupied with thoughts beyond the walls of the room. Tudor continued to be the quintessential hostess.

Murin’s thoughts strayed to the male members of the crew, she wondered if the lads were on deck having a grand time of it as well. She had grown fond of Nathan; he was much like her brother Finn. Today seemed a bit odd, having Nathan around with Billy gone to the Heron. Mister Lasseter now the captain of the fleet cutter. She sighed, that was a lovely ship, and she found joy in watching her cross the horizon in front of the Watch Dog time and time again. Mister Gage had outdone himself yet again and the ladies continued to enjoy the food with what seemed to be an endless supply of wine. Murin herself was use to the taste of ale. The wine though a pleasant enough bouquet was effecting her more than she may have thought. Quite improperly and rather loudly she lifted her glass "To Cap'n Brand!" she did not give the others the opportunity to reply, "an'is collection o'whimen!" She gasped as soon as she heard the words spill from her lips. An uneasy silence filled the room, conversation and song halted abruptly; Miss McDonough's blushed a bright red, surprised glances were exchanged by all but Murin who hung her head as she cringed in embarrassment.

Tudor and Tempest locked eyes. Whether it was simply to break the tension, or at the humor of the situation, or perhaps that he had managed to collect an unusual percentage of women for his crew and the thought had crossed their minds more than a few times in the past year, the two let sly smiles turn up the corner of their mouths. Smiles turned to grins and grins to giggles as all shared knowing glances. And soon all were laughing heartily. Infectious laughter filled the space. What tension may have existed previously had been broken and some bond, however tenuous had been created.

[Black Syren]

Siren carefully kept watch on her wine intake not wishing to go to duty drunk and make a fool of herself. But she was enjoying herself and immensely, perhaps this had been needed after the sea battle, a way to have a little peace for the battle would never be forgotten, by any.

Tempest was silent for the most part interjecting thoughts and comments here and there, Tudor a perfect hostess made sure the conversation was spirited and flowing. Siren hid a smile at Murin’s words then boldly laughed aloud and stood “Aye to our Captain! And to the Dog!” She raised her glass high then looked about the room and as the laughter settled she arched a dark brow, eyes dancing with mischief.

“What do ye think the lads be doin? Dreamin about the lasses on the isle, or about the rum?” She queried, voice filled with laughter as she waggled her brows to the women gathered.

[William Brand]

The night passed in comfortable silence. William chanced to pass through the galley but once, and finding no one there, he helped himself to fare. Then he went up to eat and drink in the open air of the quarterdeck where all was quiet.

. . .

Aboard the Maastricht, things were far more troublesome. The wind tried many times to back upon the diminshed fluyt during the dog watches. This repeated buffeting caused the already weakened seams along the starboard bow to pop and separate. A crew was assembled at once to man the pumps, and the men chozen for this duty were selected from among the prisoners. The remaining captives were put to good use taking supplies to drier climbs above.

Rummy was soaked clean through for several hours as she hammered and set timber and cloth to stave off the sea which spilled and leaked into the holds. It was hard work, but she had struggled against worse than this, and among all who labored, she was never heard to complain even once.

Mister Badger could not keep himself from visiting below six and seven times an hour, for he did not want to lose the prize. He would rather run her aground than lose her to the sea, and when he wasn't below, the Bosun would retire to the great cabin to examine charts for the shallows of the region.

This put him shoulder to shoulder many times with the former First Mate of the Maastricht, who offered what understanding he had. At first, Mister Badger was hesitant to except any advice from someone so recently defeated, but the former First Mate showed no guile.

Still, the comparrison of charts proved unecessary, for by six bells of the First Watch, a dripping and bedraggled Master Carpenter arrived on the weatherdecks with a tired smile. Mister Badger ordered drink and supper for the tired woman, and only when she was holding cup and plate did he ply here with questions.

"Report."

Rummy drained half a pint of rum before speaking. "She'll make Martinique or never call me a carpenter hereafter."

[Dorian Lasseter]

25 July, 1704

Aboard the Heron

Seven Bells of the Morning Watch

Larboard watch on duty

The First and Mid Watches had passed in relative calmness, the changes of course taking longer as when the sun dropped below the horizon, Captain Lasseter ordered shortening of sail. Life moved at a slightly slower pace during the hours of darkness. The first sign of dawn, the grayness at the horizon outlined one of the many islands of the Lesser Antilles to the east. Smyth noted this to himself and took some time looking through his spyglass, trying to identify the isle but to no avail in the dim light. He would wait til the golden orb showed itself fully, shedding enough light to bring fourth details of the landscape. His watch would most likely be over by then, so he called down to the deck, revealing the sighting of land to the east. Nigel acknowledged him and tied off the tiller, freeing his hands to add a remark in the logbook.

. . . . . . . .

Dorian lay in his hammock shrouded in a deep sleep. One leg hung down from the canvas, his bare foot swaying with the movement of the ship. His sleep was not troubled by wicked dreams, nor by any other disturbance. His face was calm as his chest rose and fell with each breath. His left arm curled up around his head, his right lay across his abdomen with his sea service pistol in hand. The wind freshened as the did the illumination of the sky, and just before eight bells his eyes slowly opened. He looked about, stretched, and rolled out of his perch. He walked about in his shirtsleeves until eight bells tolled, then washed up, dressed and headed topside to greet the day…

~Starboard Watch coming on Duty~