The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

The lieutenant’s eyebrows lifted as Merchande repeated what William had said.

“Deux cents et cinquante?”

“Oui, Lieutenant”

A wicked grin appeared for an instant on Bedeau’s face, then vanished just as quickly.

“Très bien, j'attends leur livraison.”

Marchande nodded and turned to Captain Brand.

“The Lieutenant will be happy to wait for us to deliver them…”

Marchande had paraphrased a bit, and William knew it, but let it pass.

[William Brand]

They left the company of the marines under Lieutenant Bedeau and returned to small boat waiting at the docks. The evening had been a productive one. Mister Pew and Miss McDonough had passed several shops selling mixed wares, including a tailor and a dressmaker. They discussed their finds as they clambered into the boat, asking the Captain's leave to have the whole of the morrow for the purpose of seeking out cloth, materials and all other goods as touching the marines new uniforms. William gave his permission with the proviso that Mister Pew hand pick some additional marines prior to departing the ship.

"Aye, Cap'n. I'll have th' names presently."

"Thank you, Mister Pew."

"Also, see the next shore party armed with a few marines. We'll gather our numbers to the 'Dog to discuss shore leave once the prisoners are removed."

They returned to the Watch Dog.

[Black Syren]

Siren watched avidly the other ships, the crews, the shoreline it seemed there was so much to take in outside the world of the Dog. And a world it was, a tiny island comprised of men and women who worked together to benefit the goode of all. It was on a scan of the shore and the docks that she first noted them and raised her glass to take further note especially as the Captain and Miss McDonough as well as the others were returning.

She called Ciarnan’s attention to the group and called down to Miss Smith before once more returning watch on the docks. She did see the Captain briefly as he spoke and he seemed jovial and she continued to watch even as the boats began to make their return journey to the Dog.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Heron, Cul-de-sac Royal, Martinique

Captain Lasseter had finished adding the necessary information to his list of needed supplies and now took some time to relax. Not much was happening to warrant his presence on deck, and the breeze had made the wardroom quite comfortable now. He sat back in the chair, getting as comfortable as it would let him, and let the sounds of the ship lull him into peacefulness. The sound of loose canvas flapping slowly in the breeze, the snap of the flags on the staff. The slow footfalls of someone pacing the deck above. He nodded his head once, and realized he was indeed tired. A catnap wouldn’t hurt right about now he thought, plenty of sharp eyes topside to allow it. He smiled at this, then frowned slightly, realizing that his thoughts brought a question to mind. Since he took command of the Heron he had not seen a ships cat about. He wondered if this ship did indeed have a cat or two aboard. He settled himself in the chair and made a mental note that if there was no ships cat on the Heron now, there would be before leaving Martinique. He had drifted off into slumber with that thought in his head. Twenty minutes later he was awoken by the call from above that the shore party was returning. He stretched and yawned, feeling slightly refreshed. He sighed, and stood, heading topside.

Just before two bells of the Evening Watch

[William Brand]

On the cul-de-sac Royal

Two bells of First Watch

The first shore party returned by boat across the cul-de-sac Royal. It was a warm night, and the wind coming from the East carried the sounds of music and the commerce of the night across the bay. This was answered by the bells which came from the Watch Dog, Maastricht and Heron, along with every other boat on the water as the second bell of the watch carried in all directions.

The smallboat thumped alongside the 'Dog and the shore party climbed into the frigate's waist. Mister Pew called for his marines at once and William crossed to the opposite rail to send out word to Mister Lasseter.

"Success, Captain Lasseter! All's well ashore! Pistols for coin and marines ashore ready to receive prisoners!"

There was a short pause as his voice carried to the Heron. Dorian cupped his hands together and called back again.

"What orders then, Cap'n?"

"Prepare to lower away all the smallboats for the transfer of the captives!"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian nodded sharply once and turned to the Boatswain.

“Mister Brisbane, have Mister Tucker pick two men and have the three of them take th’ jollywatt over to th’ ‘Dog fer th’ duty requested by Cap’n Brand.”

“Aye-aye Captain…”

Nigel knuckled his brow and started foreward to carry out the orders. In short time Tucker, Whiting and Press were on their way to the Watch Dog in the Heron’s small boat.

“Mister Johnson! Lay aft!”

Dorian called, and soon Nicholas was before him.

“Aye, Sir?”

“Have th’ men put a spring line on th’ anchor cable… and run out th’ guns… e’en though they ain’t loaded. When th’ boat loads o’ prisoners are on their way ta shore, swing th’ ship about so as ta keep th’ guns trained on ‘em… “

A look of questioning first appeared on Johnsons face that slowly turned to understanding. A devilish grin spread wide on his face.

“Hehe… Aye, Captain… Aye…”

Off he went to gather the hands. Next Dorian called Mister Smyth aft. He ordered him to have Roche and himself on deck with four muskets apiece, loaded and ready, giving eight total. If there was any trouble the two of them would be ready for it. He gave a quirky grin and saluted before heading off to gather the other marine.

Dorian stood on the small quarterdeck of the Heron in the late evening light, his eyes strayed westward, watching the sky begin to turn pink.

[William Brand]

The Heron's small boat crossed towards the 'Dog and Maastricht and William turned again to Mister Pew. "Assemble your marines, Mister Pew. You may dispose of the prisoners ashore, but keep the senior officers for last. I will go with them ashore at the end."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n"

"Boatheaders and boat crews to the smallboats!"

[Pew]

A small flotilla began to gather in the waning light in the harbor. Several of the small boats bounced and banged lightly against the hull of the Heron as well as the Watch Dog.

Aboard the Maastricht

John McGinty, aloft in the Maastricht, saw the party ashore meet with the French guard at the docks. Assuming the unload of prisoners was inevitable, he had sent word to Mister Flint. Mister Flint in turn had Jerrod go below and get Manus and Louis to raise the prisoners. "The wounded are to be sent ashore first followed by those with less severe injuries," Mister Flint ordered Jerrod. Mister Styles knuckled his forelock and retreated below. Bill Flint made his way to the railing and was met by Mister Hawks and Rummy lowering the chains to recieve the first of many boats for the prisoners.

Aboard the Watch Dog

Eric Franklin had been below decks in the armoury filling the many cartridge pouches that had been recovered from both the Heron and the Maastricht. Each entry was made into the log as another was finished. A small flask had made its way onto the small desk in the armoury and had found itself nearly empty over the course of the late afternoon. Finishing the another box and the flask itself, Eric had heard Siren make the call to Miss Smith and decided to made his way topside. Curious of the commotion he heard aboard the Maastricht, Eric borrowed a spyglass from the quarterdeck and peered ashore, then to the Mister McGinty in the main top of the Maastricht. Looking to the Heron, Eric caught sight of Mister Lasseter, "Captain, begging yer pahdon." Chuckling to himself he watched as Nigel and Lucky Tuck made ready the jollywatt and slid her into the harbor. Closing the glass, he heard the Captain's voice and turned to see the Captain and his party standing in the waist and Mister Pew holding a large pouch.

"Boatheaders and boat crews to the smallboats!" Mister Pew cried.

[William Brand]

Jim Warren ordered the cutter crew over the side and into the waiting cutter. He climbed down and took his place at the tiller as it filled with men and marines. He called out to each man in the boat and ordered each to his proper place along both sides of the small craft.

Eric Franklin came down the on board stairway and passed down Mister Warren's personal arms. He also sent down a pistol for each rower, that they might back up the marines at any sign of trouble. Then Eric joined the men at the head of the cutter.

Mister Pew did the same on the 'Dog's opposite side, manning the tiller of the jollywatt once every marine was in place and every rower was lightly armed.

Added to this was the jollywatt from the Heron and the longboat of the Watch Dog. The jollywatt remained near the cutter while the longboat went to the Maastricht to meet the marines already there.

[Pew]

I climbed aboard the Maastrciht to find several of the prisoners already lying about in some feverish state. Each of them reeked and many had vomited aboard the deck. Paul and Claude had remained with me, hoping that they would soon be able to spend more time ashore, by their own means this time. Tjaak Cuylemburch had come forth and offered to translate when the prisoners coudl not understand. I glanced at Bill Flint cradling a musket in his crossed arms and he nodded.

I stood before the growing number of men aboard the Maastrciht and explined what was going to transpire. I paused every so often to let Tjaak catch up and heard the men groan several times. Paul and Claude stood by with their hands on their muskets similare to Mister Flint.

"Anyone caught o'erboard 'n th' trip ashore shall be shot on sight," Mister Cuylemburch translated. Several nervous looks were passed about, except for several of the younger Dutch men who peered over the railing. Jerrod and I caught the same look from those three men and I narrowed my gaze as I continued. "Anyone caught tryin' t' take o'er any o' th' boats, shall be shot on sight," the translation continued. "The Heron 'as 'er guns trained 'pon you lot, twould be nothing t' sink an'oer your boats," the prisoners looked over to the Heron and saw her guns run out.

[William Brand]

William could just make out the strong warnings of the Master-at-Arms from the fluyt amidst his own orders. In the absence of marines, William armed several of the able seamen and ordered Miss Smith to fetch two pistols and a musket for herself.

While this was being done, William watched the first of the Maastricht prisoners come over the side and into the cutter. some of them had to be assisted, though this assistance came from their own, for all of the marines stood apart from them with watchful eyes. Mister Pew stood on the Maastricht's larboard rail, one hand on the shrouds and one on his firearm, surveying every captive that went over into the waiting boats.

The breeze on the harbor was a gentle one and this kept the water relatively calm. The favorable anchorage off the Savanne was proving to be a good one, though with so many sailors to ferry ashore for leave, William considered moving the 'Dog to Anse Mitane once the prisoners were ferried.

"Miss Smith, you have the deck. I'll be in the Ward Room."

[Pew]

I watched as the first group of prisoners were sent down to the waiting longboat to be ferried ashore. Looking across the way I saw that Petee had also run out a few of the cannon on the Watch Dog only to make the point hit home all the more.

As the first boat filled with the sick and wounded it shoved off to begin the trek ashore. Leaving Bill Flint in charge of the Marines on the Maastricht, I made my way into the jollywatt with Claude. As the second boat reached the chains it also filled with those men from the Maastricht who smelled like the filth from the orlop. The breeze on the harbor bore the stench from the prisoners down on us as if we had upset Aeolus himself. As the last boat filled we moved to the larboard side of the first longboat. The harbor had a slight chop to it, but the heavily laden craft moved through the sea easily.

Upon reaching the dock, Claude and I made our way to the Lieutenant. We offered simple introductions and a estimate on how many trips it would take. The officer and his sergeant looked over the water and saw the three longboats rapidly approaching.

"Captain Brand 'll bring th' Officers ov'r on th' final trip," Claude translated.

"Oui," agreed the Lieutenant. He swept his arm to the docks and the sergeant barked out an order to take the arriving Dutch prisoners in custody.

The Lieutenant nodded and left us to take the the first round of Dutch to the Fort. Claude and I lowered ourselves back into the Samson and began the short trip back to the Maastricht.

Standing in the waist of the Maastricht, I looked back over those sailors lying, standing and sitting waiting for the next trip ashore. Two men in line refused to get up and make their way to the rope ladder. Jerrod was about to give the man the end of his musket, but I grabbed the barrel before he could.

"Problem, Mister Styles?" I asked.

"Bastards ain't movin Mister Pew," he replied.

I looked at the man and saw he had a crimson stain on the side of his slops. "Were y' shot?" I knelt and asked.

"Ga naar hel" the man growls and spits.

I draw my pistol and place the barrel in the stain, pressing harder and harder. The man cringes and a tear runs from his eye.

"D'ya want t' be? Now get up 'n move," I hissed back. The man stood and tried to hide his right hand behind his back. I grab his hand and twist it to his front. Back to his knees, the man yelps. With his hand and face both contorted in pain, I find a fine gold ring and a stone lodged inside it.

"Mister Flint," I ask never turning my gaze from the ring.

"Yes sir."

"Search th' prisoners. Rings, Earrings, buckles, what have you. Each Dutchman 's t' go ashore barefoot 's well," I spin the ring on the man's hand with my left thumb and forefinger. Removing the ring, I level a blow to the man's neck with my right forearm. He crumples in a heap on the deck. "Off you go Mister Flint."

"You heard Mister Pew, ON THE DECK NOW!!" Bill Flint yelled and Tjaak Cuylemburch translated in the same manner.

[William Brand]

On the Cul du Sac Royal

William returned to the quarterdeck, and seeing the first of the prisoner boats returned, he ordered out the dingy to ferry him the short distance over to the Maastricht. He went as the others had before him, armed with a pistol. He also bore a blunderbuss slung over his shoulder.

The business of sorting prisoners was still going on as William stepped aboard the Maastricht. Mister Pew and the marines were cataloging a small cache of confiscated goods as well as a prodigious pile of shoes which had formed amidships. William and Preston exchanged simple acknowledgments and William proceeded aft to the fluyt's great cabin.

Doctor Van Zandt and Bartel Raymer were still in command of the surgery set up in the ward room, save for a few prisoners who had proved well enough to go ashore. William made no attempt to catch either man's attention as they worked. Even now, Van Zandt and Raymer were at work on a man who had finally lost his leg to infection. The man showed uncommon valor in keeping his peace as they removed the last bit of bone which connected him to the former limb. William was moved to cross over to the table and lend his limited assistance. Van Zandt looked up from his work only long enough to pass William a bloodied instrument that he had finished with before returning to the work at hand.

Raymer and William could do little while the Doctor completed the gruesome business, so they regarded each other across the table as they held the man down. William noted that Raymer was decidedly calm and had probably witnessed his share of amputations in the last few days.

"Geëindigd." the doctor said, mopping his brow with the back of his bloodied sleeve. It left a dark smear across his brow and William called out the door for fresh water.

"How many more can go ashore, Arts Van Zandt?"

The Dutch Doctor seemed not to heat at first, so Raymer reached across the table and touched his arm. Van Zandt looked up, removing his bloodied apron. "Elk van he...pardon. All of them, if I may go vith them."

"Of course." William returned. "I will see what provision might be made in regards to your instruments. Perhaps I may persuade them to allow you some medicines and tools."

"Dank u, Kapitein."

William nodded and went out again onto the weatherdecks. Here he found Captain den Oven, whose appearance had not improved in the sunless cramp of the berth and holds. His hair was disheveled and his stately bearing had disintegrated into something more common.

"Kapitein den Oven, you will soon be escorted ashore and delivered into the custody of the French. All of your men will be thus delivered."

Den Oven said nothing.

"Seems th' darkness gave 'im what 'is title could not. Civility." Mister Pew said, with special emphasis on the last word.

'Civil as an orange', William thought, but his mood for sporting with the Dutch Captain's misfortunes was long behind him. He was just happy to be at port so that he might be rid of the prisoners, and Captain den Oven was no exception.

[Silkie McDonough]

Her nerves had calmed now. It seemed to take all the strength Miss McDonough had to climb the ladder on the side of the boat. The lass was grateful when a hand had been presented over the rail. She accepted the assistance clasping the arm in front of her. After smiling weakly at a blonde lad she did not recognize she made her way to the nearest cannon until her strength returned.

She sat there as the smaller boats were lowered and launched. Marines gathered and reassigned and the beginning of the prisoner transport. She looked up to Siren sitting above it all and swallowed hard knowing that if she was to survive life on this ship she needed to master this fear.

Suddenly feeling a bit lost Murin decided to seak out Nathan Bly. He had become a good friend over the past nine days. Someone she felt she could count on. She enjoyed his company and was comforted in his presence. Her stomach a bit empty she first headed for the galley. Mister Gage said he recalled Nathan coming in at the change of the watch. He filled a bowl for Murin and asked her to sit. She nearly declined but quickly reconsidered. Sitting in Mister Gages company with the hot food would be much better than wandering the ship juggling the bowl and tankard looking for Nathan. If the lad he was in his hammock he was most likely sleeping. She leaned into the steam rising from her dish. How did the man do it? So many ways to prepare fish and food that she could never have imagined! He smiled at her delight in the fare of the day. Murin was not so hungry that she could not savor the meal before her. Gage did not watch but from time to time he would glance at the lass and display a satisfied grin. Miss McDonough talked of Martinique as she ate, Mister Gage interjecting a question or a comment now and then. Before she realized, the bell had rung twice more. She gathered her dishes cleaned them then stacked them with the others.

Her thoughts strayed to Nathan again and she headed to the berth and the hammocks in search of the lad.

[Pew]

I bid my leave from the captain and joined the waiting jollywatt alongside the Maastricht. With the final boat of prisoners sent to shore and our rapid return in the waning light, the Captain had assembled the Dutch Officers on the weatherdeck onboard the Maastricht.

Our marines had gathered around the main mast and formed a small half circle. Manus had remained by himself on the quarterdeck keeping an eye over the proceeding. Louis, Robert and Paul arrived topside and had just finished clearing the lower decks to make sure no "strays" were left behind. A quick salute to Bill Flint, told us none had been found. Mister Flint nodded to me and I approached the Captain,

"All prisoners, save for th' Officers 'ave been 'counted for sah." I knuckled my brow and waited for the return.

[William Brand]

Aboard the Maastricht at Cul du Sac Royal

"Thank you, Mister Pew. No one else could have accomplished the task better. My compliments."

"Thank you, sah." Mister Pew returned, and knuckled his brow a second time.

William turned to Captain den Oven, Raymer and Doctor Van Zandt. Captain den Oven looked surly, which was not very different from any time before. Raymer looked more the part of Captain, as did Van Zandt, and William had a moment to wish these men had escaped the depravity of prison. This did not keep him from ordering them over into the boat.

"Gentlemen, if you please." he said, gesturing to the rail. Mister Pew urged den Oven a little with a nudge. Raymer followed. William held Van Zandt back a moment and handed him an envelope. "I have taken the liberty of writing on your behalf. This letter explains your conduct aboard the Maastricht. It contains my personal observations in regards to the safety and care given to the wounded. Perhaps it will win you some added freedom to administer to the wounded. I cannot say."

"Dank u, Kapitein." Van Zandt said, and the tired man managed a smile before going over the rail into the waiting boat.

"Orders, sah?" Mister Pew asked, slinging his musket for the trip over the water.

"Pick four marines for the journey. We shall go ashore and deliver the prisoners. Then you and I shall see what passes for taverns in this place."

Four bells of First Watch

~Larboard Watch on Duty

[Pew]

"Aye sah."

I turned to Bill Flint, as Eric had been stationed aboard the Watch Dog through the transfer of prisoners. His orders were to take the marines left aboard the Maastricht and place all valuables from the prisoners into satchels for trade ashore.

"Send Maurice an' Andrew back t' th' Heron. Yourself, and Manus c'n man th' Dutchie, till we get rid ov' er. Th' rest, back to the Watch Dog. Let Mister Franklin know I'm goin' ashore wit th' Captain."

Bill Flint nodded and knuckled a salute, always a man of formality.

"Claude, 'f you Paul and Robert 'ould join 's again, mebbe we'll b' able t' spend that coin ashore now," I adjusted the musket on my shoulder and watched as the three men climbed into the waiting boat.

"Mister Flint," I nodded and made my way down the rope ladder.

Bill went across the deck of the Maastricht to help Andrew and Maurice into the Heron's jollywatt. Manus remained on the quarterdeck simply shifting the musket from one arm to the other. He moved only to light the few lanterns about the deck. Bill moved forward to do the same.

The harbor began to fill with tiny lights as darkness descended upon Cul du Sac Royal.

[William Brand]

July 27, 1704 - Cul du Sac Royal

Mister Pew coaxed the prisoners forward to the bow of the small boat where he might watch them better, or if necessity demanded, shoot them. He laid his musket across his lap and focused on the prisoners with a circumspect eye.

William sat aft, taking the tiller for the final transport of prisoners. He guided the boat away from the Maastricht. It curved out across the mild current of the bay as they crossed the inky darkness of the Cul du Sac Royal. The whole expanse of the bay was dark, but for a thousand lights which were still springing up along the docks, piers and buildings along the shorelines. Even the fortress on the rise of the port's Northernmost end shone with the starlight of civilization.

They were all quiet as they rowed. Even the prisoners made no conversation, lost in their own thoughts and misgivings. The sound of revelries and night commerce carried from several points across the water. Music, voices, and even a solitary pistol shot drifted out to them, and while a few of the marines smiled at this, none of them spoke.

William regarded the constellations of the Caribbean night, familiarizing himself with the North Star in relation to the island. The moon was absent from the sky, having set earlier in the day, and William calculated that the full moon was five or six days away.

The docks nearest the fort materialized out of the darkness ahead of them under the glow of the lamps hung along the piers. The activity of the day was diminished, and while the number of soldiers sent down to except prisoners had decreased, there was enough activity along the docks to outnumber the shore party.

William steered the small boat against the dock where it thumped gently. Mister Pew was on his feet at once, musket at the ready as the prisoners filed up onto the docks.

"This is the last of the prisoners." William explained, as Claude translated. "I present to you Captain den Oven, First Mate Raymer and Doctor Van Zandt."

"Bienvenue vers la Martinique, messieurs." the sergeant said, bowing only enough to recognize what the men had been before their capture. "Si vous viendrez avec moi..."

Den Oven shot William a look that was all poniards and knives. William gifted him with a look of seeming apathy. He was neither moved to smile or scowl, and this seemed to anger den Oven more than ever. Perhaps the Dutchman thought he deserved some stronger emotion from Captain Brand. Anger. Disdain. Gloating would have sufficed. But this absence of emotion from the younger and deplorable privateer invoked a bitter look from the captain turned prisoner.

Only Pew showed any real outward emotion. He smiled at den Oven. It was a small smile, yes, but it said 'What? You were expecting fanfare maybe...?'

Den Oven fixed the Master-at-Arms with the same look that he visited upon Captain Brand.

Five bells of First Watch

~Larboard Watch on Duty

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Heron’s crew had used some elbow grease and sweat as the prisoner exchange took place, using the capstan with the spring line to angle the ship around, keeping the guns trained on the small boats. The captain kept a stoic look on his face as he watched the boats travel to and from the wharf, his keen eyes watching for any sign of trouble. As the light faded and the ships lanterns were lit, the last boat made it’s way across the water to shore. Dorian squinted, then used his glass to be sure, it was the officers of the Maastricht and the Captain and Master-at-Arms of the Watch Dog.

“Ah… th’ final voyage fer th’ Dutchies…”

He collapsed the glass and held it behind his back. Looking foreward he called to the Boatswain.

“Mister Brisbane… have th’ men stow th’ guns, remove th’ spring line and take their ease…”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.”

He turned his sights to the wharf and watched the flames of a thousand lamps flicker in the darkness of the coming night, wondering what the late hours and the new day would bring…

As the Fifth bell of the Evening Watch was tolled, Dorian noticed the Heron’s jollywatt making it’s way back to the mother ship. As it came within the sphere of light cast by the Heron’s lamps he saw it was manned by Maurice Roche and Andrew Smyth. As it bumped along side, Smyth secured it to the chains and hollered to those on deck.

“Captain, we need some help transferin’ some goods aboard!”

Captain Lasseter headed to the waist and looked over the side into the jollywatt. There lay a half dozen satchels, stuffed to their limits. Roche picked one up and held it high, his arms quivering with exhaustion.

“Weers! Brant! Coipman! Jameson! Lend a hand!”

Dorian barked the names and four sets of feet pounded across the deck to do as ordered. In short odred all was aboard, including the two marines. When all was safely standing on deck, Dorian looked at the satchels, then at the two marines.

“What have we here?”

Roche spoke first.

“Capitain Brand and Monsieur PEW sends the valuables recovered from the prisoners.”

Dorian unlatched and opened one of the satchels and peered inside.

“Valuables… Hmmm… Aye… Valuables indeed…”

[William Brand]

July 27, 1704 - Ashore at Martinique

They watched until the prisoners and soldiers melted against the darkness, then William pulled out the watch from the Heron and consulted the time. He tucked it back into the pocket of his waistcoat and turned to the remaining shore party.

"Gentlemen. Let us go together to the nearest tavern or alehouse and sample our rewards. I shall buy the first round in gratitude of your weary watches."

"Ayyyye...sah." Mister Pew said slowly and with drawn out enthusiasm.

"Very well. You are hereby relieved of duty for the duration of this watch." William continued, striking the end of his cane soundly on the paving stones. "Let us to the mugs be brought."

They wandered along the docks and past the occasional lantern. They were watched, and this was not surprising, since they talked as they went. Their English attracted attention from every other window they passed and they were obliged to greet a great number of strangers with a French phrase or two.

When they had wandered a ways from the view of the port, they found a small establishment on the corner of two cross streets. It loomed crookedly and it leaned outwards over the street in a way that suggested it was supported entirely by the neighboring shops and it seemed to speak volumes about the inebriation one might achieve with a little coin and a little time.

The sign which featured a serving woman and a wealthy, well travelled merchant read 'Le coin des français faveur'.

"The Coin of French Favor?" Paul Mooney asked, looking up at the sign.

"The...Corner...of French Favor." Claude corrected.

"Ahhh." Paul returned thoughtfully, as if he would remember this always. William suspected that he wouldn't remember it past the second drink if he remembered anything at all tomorrow.

They went inside. It was a true tavern after the French tradition, and they were favored with the sites and sounds common to alehouses the world over. Voices overlapped in competition for volume until the entire place was filled with the din of ghost stories, anecdotes, bawdy jokes, sad memories, tall tales, political discussions, and all other rhetoric. Songs and stories were everywhere shared at once until the entire breadth of Le coin des français faveur was filled to bursting. Just when it seemed that no additional voice might be heard in such a place, an impossibly thin looking man approached the shore party and greeted them.

"Bienvenue, Messieurs."

"Bonsoir, monsieur." William returned, as did Claude and the others in varying degrees. "William Brand, Capitaine du chien de garde."

The volume of the place decreased almost at once, for the Captain's name was decidedly English, as was his accent. The proprietor's smile expressed surprise, but in the practiced way of all good tavern keepers. For rather than hide any small alarm at having foreigners in his establishment, welcome or not, he exaggerated his emotions, even going so far as to put up his hands in a pantomime of happy surprise.

"AAAaaahhhhh, Messieurs! You er most welcome." he said with a pronounced delight which reminded William of something from an earlier time in his life, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The proprietor led them to a table among the curious throng and William ordered a round at once.

"A fine place." William said aloud as they waited, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true.

"Women..." Mister Pew replied at once, having spied a dark haired beauty across the room.

"Aye." Paul agreed, and William smiled to see that Paul could find distraction after such recent grief.

The drinks arrived in tall spilling mugs and they each grabbed one up at once. Claude was already drinking when William said, "A toast!" Claude wiped away the froth and laughed a little as he choked. William paused, then said, "to Jean-Baptiste Labat."

There was a silence which followed this, for no one seemed to understand the toast at all.

"The father of rum." William added.

"The father of rum!" they all chorused.

Six bells of First Watch

[Pew]

A beautiful barmaid brought us out a plate of cheeses and some bread. A pinch on the arse and wink of thanks from Robert led to a slap from the young woman. With nothing more than bruised pride, he rubbed his cheek. A roar of laughter arose from our table. Several more tankards were brought to the table by a different woman and Robert could only mutter a "thanks" in his poor French tongue. The table grew quiet only to peer at Robert and then erupt again into laughter. Claude and I saw the first woman now behind the bar smiling.

"Mebbe a wee chance, ne pas faire de mal, oui Capitaine? Monsieur Pew?" Claude stated, more than truly asking.

Captain William Brand turned and saw the fair haired woman now desparately trying to avoid eye contact with our table.

"Mais oui," laughed the Captain, "mais oui."

Claude stood and moved the small stool out from under him. He brushed off his vest, picked up his tankard and began to walk towards the bar. I slowly slid my foot out from under the table and caught his in mid-step. Claude dropped to the ground and flung the remnants of his tankard onto the next table. Growling, he stood, pointing a finger and unleashed a vulgar torrent in French at me. I stood and mimmicked everything he had just said in perhaps the worst French accent that the tavern had ever heard.

"Crétin," Claude hissed under his breathe.

"How 'bout an'oer drink on me. C'n I make ye more th' better Claude?" I slapped his shoulder and even Paul managed a smile. I made my way to the bar and offered several coins to the young lady for Claude's mess and another round for our table. A broad smile and a simple "oui Monsieur," was all that was spoken.

Returning to the table, I spun my chair around and put my elbows upon the back. Paul and Robert had continued to watch the barmaid clean up Claude's mess. A lean of the head either way kept their rapt attention and allowed them full view. Cupping my tankard in two hands, I asked the Captain for his story.

"Cap'n, jus' how'd you'd go 'bout findin' yerself 'board th' Watch Dog?"

[William Brand]

"I went about by way of the docks and my legs carried me aboard, Mister Pew." William said, a long, slow smile spreading across his face.

[Pew]

The crew erupted again in laughter.

"So we all came aboard th' same way eh Mister Pew?", smiled Robert, poking fun at the Captain's remark.

[William Brand]

Mister Pew never stopped smiling, though his mouth flattened a little and he glowered a bit in good humor. He punctuated his exasperation with a small sigh, so William elaborated.

"Fortune brought me to the 'Dog." William said, and he was unsure where to begin and what chapter of his life to draw from, for some of that fortune had ben ill, and so many events, small and great, had led him to his auspicious place on the light frigate. He let the phrase hang for a moment, but not on purpose. His mind had simply wandered a moment until the silence of the waiting listeners prompted him back to his story.

"I tried my hand at the merchant trade some years back, though with little success. An old friend from my early sea days encouraged me to join in partnership with him and one Andries Salade, an intemperate fellow out of the Seven Provinces. I was schooled in the arts of trade and cartography and served aboard the company's flagship, Commonwealth. The name proved to be erroneous of course, since Salade was the only man ever to become wealthy off of the endeavor, and the only profit we shared in common was the man's unpleasant company.

Still, despite some unpleasantness with my employer, made obvious by his constant rudeness and larcenous behavior, I did have high hopes that my small fortune would grow and that I might escape the reputation attributed to me."

William paused again, this time to drink. He drank long for a moment before continuing.

"At first, all seemed well. I was in the company of an old friend and in a profession which drew upon my love of art and my love of the sea. I was very recently...well..." William paused again, and the smile he wore was one of fond recollection mixed with some unnamed bitterness. "...well...my expectations were high."

Robert was watching the barmaid again and Paul kicked him under the table. "What? Yes...?" Robert said, and Paul snorted.

"Please continue, Cap'n." Paul said, shaking his head at Robert.

"Well...the Commonwealth sailed out of port and out through the channel bound for Southern coasts. We were but two weeks from port when Andries announced that he was not obliged to support any agreement made between myself and Bill Ferne...my friend and business partner. Instead, I was to sign a new article of Salade's choosing with a considerable alteration as touching my wages. He offered me shares over wages, which I declined, recognizing that the opportunity for him to cheat me at some future time was greatly increased with shares. Then, he, and he alone, agreed on a wage that was 'fair' and I was made to understand that if I declined the offer, I would be put to sea at once. As you might imagine, I was obliged."

There were several nods about the table. Many of them had experienced the fair treatment of a crooked man in their time. It was the balance of life in action. A few men with enough gold to outweigh all of the rest of humanity.

"However, the matter was not altogether unpleasant. I found satisfaction in the work and the journey. The many voyages that followed were filled with variety and experiences I will not soon forget.

We first made port at Agadir, a place I had all but forgotten from my youth. Whether or not it had changed much, I could not say, for I was far too young when first acquainted with that place. Agadir was bristling with ships from Portugal, France, England, Greece, Spain and the Colonies. Slave ships, trade ships, what have you.

We purchased silks, ivory, and all manner of goods from Agadir. Salade eventually took on human cargo. Everything that might be bought, we bought. Well...rather, Salade bought or stole. We were there but a week and I witnessed more piracy in the form of false documents, clipped coins and abject lies than I have witnessed at any other time. Salade was a master of the devious arts.

It was there at Agadir that I learned that the Commonwealth herself had been swindled from Salade's former partners. He had all but bankrupted them until they were obliged to let him take her just to be rid of him.

In the course of three years I watched him make promises with one face and then scorn with the other. He bought and sold partners with vows, destroying many a merchant in his path until his reputation was such that men would groan and sometimes cross themselves at the mere mention of his name, and yet, as often as I tried to leave his company, he would lure me again with some carefully crafted lie. Even me."

William shook his head, not at the memory of Salade exactly, but at his own weakness during that time. So many times he had wanted to strike out on his own and escape the imprisonment of the Commonwealth, but he had believed so many of the lies, and with no supporters to his cause, he had remained and endured.

"The worst privations I witnessed came at Caledonia were he plied his serpents tongue in destroying the lives of many a Scotsman out of Isthmus at Darien. That place was a land of spent hopes and they were so eager to clutch to any offered hand. So much need, and he gleaned them like a false parishioner."

William's face had grown dark at the recollection. So dark in fact, that not a few of them wished for other conversation, but no one dared to offer a change of subject.

"In the end, he made no attempt to cover the lies he told. He was ever spilling falsehoods out of his mouth like so much vomit, with little concern that anyone might dispute him, and like dogs they would lap it up. Eventually, he even took to lying to me and spreading lies of me, until my whole reputation was besmirched by this horrible little man.

It was then that I struck out on my own, but not all at once. I purchased a small, but nimble little boat. A Baltic ketch brought over by the Scots." William's face lit a little at this recollection, and by now, everyone wanted to hear what would come next. Even Robert had put off watching the barmaids.

"She was a beautiful little boat. Not as large or long as the 'Dog, but a fine little boat. I put together a modest crew and fitted the ketch with all many of arms and comforts. I even managed to lure many of Salade's former partners and some of his previous and ruined customers to join me. Much of this was done in secret over a few months, though Salade knew of the ketch. Indeed, he thought it to his advantage that we should sail together as 'twinned partners in trade'."

"What of Bill Ferne...?" Robert asked.

"Oh." William said, looking surprised. "I had quite forgotten. Bill Ferne had already left some...eight or nine months previous to this. He acquired a fine little company of his own, so that I became Salade's sole partner."

"Was that good or bad?" Mister Pew asked, certain that it was bad.

William smiled, "Bad of course, though I thought it good. When Bill left, and I assumed his place, I thought I might benefit from the promotion. With Salade away spending his money on women and wine at all hours of the day, I would be left to command the company and see it rise to become what it should have been all along. But not so. When I approached Salade and postulated my ideas to him, he turned upon me.

It seem that all of my confidences. All of my many secrets, dark and hidden. All of the many things I had shared with my friend Bill...well...Bill had in turn shared with Salade."

"Bastard." Preston said, and with a good deal of emphasis on the first syllable, so that it came out sounding like 'Baaaasss...turd'. William merely shrugged.

"He had his reasons, I'm sure. It doesn't matter. Bill had children and a young wife to consider, and perhaps he was moved to sell my secrets cheap for his own sake. I do not know. I only know this, that Salade had me by the throat."

William regarded his own drink for a time and Preston had the opportunity to say 'bastard' again under his breath.

"Eventually, when I came to own the ketch I met with Salade. We stood face to face and I carefully explained that I would no longer keep his company. And I we parted. Of course...Salade tried many times to win me back with promises of vast fortunes."

William chuckled a little and went back to drinking, only this time he waited on purpose, knowing full well that none of them would be satisfied by this ending. He was not wrong.

"And...Cap'n?" Mister Pew prompted.

"And...?" William echoed back.

"What happ'ned to th' Bastard?"

"Ahhh, well I do think I have told you in the past how I came to be a caulker at Amsterdam."

"Aye." Pew agreed.

"Well, I had some months to plan my departure, including the stripping of many a seam on the Commonwealth."

Preston leaned back in his chair and a wide grin spread on his face. William smiled back.

"The Commonwealth took on water off the coast of Caledonia and Salade was forced to run her aground in an effort to save her. To my knowledge, she remained aground and was never recovered."

"To devious caulkers." Preston said, presenting his cup that all might join in at the toast. Which they all did.

"Is tha' th' end o' it, then, Cap'n?" Robert asked, when they all had drunk and refreshed their cups again.

"No, Mister Thatcher." William said, with a bit of bemused reluctance. "I wish I could say that the man fell into ruin, but the Salade's of the world always prosper, even when they should fail. I have heard by rumor, and though it be rumor I believe it to be true, that Andries Salade has found new sheep upon which to prey. His end might never satisfy me or you, but being mortal, he will at least perish in the end."

"I'll drink to that, Cap'n" Mister Pew said, and they toasted again, then he made a face and regarded William with a questioning look. "Sorry t' press th' point, sah, but you haven't answered my question."

"Ahh, yes. How did I come to be aboard the 'Dog. Well, let's see. As I said, I tried my hand as a merchantman. Many of the men and women almost destroyed by my former partner, eventually returned to him."

"Nooooo..." Paul said amazed, and then repeated himself once more. "Nooo."

"Yeees." William said, and nodded quite empathetically, then shrugged. "Dogs to vomit, Mister Mooney. Dogs to vomit. I was forced to give up the trade eventually. My endeavors, and my ship, almost floundered over the course of the last few years. I sold the ketch and reaped the reward of many losses. I took what little remained and found my way to La Desirade. I had no expectations by this time. No ambitions, apart from rest. I ate when hungry. I slept when tired. I drifted into the company of many a discarded sailor, and eventually acquired the Kate in the process."

"Aye." Preston said, and he smiled.

"She was...is...the perfect ship."

Several eyebrows went up at this, and Paul couldn't help but laugh. William raised an eyebrow towards him as if daring him to explain his descension on the subject.

"She's...aground, sah?"

"Aye." William agreed. "And this makes her a perfect ship. A fine ship. She will never sink. She'll weather any storm. She is never short of rum and sailors. She is steady. Easy to navigate. Adequately stocked with provisions. Her berth deck is never dark. The air their is seldom foul. Coin comes to her, so she need never go to coin. And if I would not miss the Watch Dog so much, I would be there even now.

You might say what you will of the Kate, but when storms have taken the 'Dog, the Tsunami will remain."

[Dorian Lasseter]

“Dorian had Mister Brisbane and Tucker help Roche and Smyth take the satchels into the wardroom where he lit extra candles. Over the next two hours, the five men sorted through the satchels, separating out the good shoes from the worn and broken, gold and silver tokens from those of copper and brass. While the sorting progressed, Captain Lasseter noticed Andrew Smyth putting the sole of a shoe against the bottom of his sandal, then quickly laying it with its mate in a pile. He drew up one side of his mouth.

“Lookin’ ta get a better bit o’ footwear, Mister Smyth?”

He looked sheepishly around the room, then at the Captain.

“Aye sir… I suppose I am…”

“I see… perhaps when ye get shore leave, ye can find a cobblers an’ get a grande pair…”

He brightened at what Dorian said, having almost forgotten that would happen soon enough, and they would have plenty of coin in his pocket.

“Aye Captain, I nearly fergot! Er…… when do we get shore leave?”

Dorian sat back and looked about the wardroom.

“I do believe we’ll have a chance in the morn… I’ll see if we can ‘ave the first chance once Cap’n Brand comes back… Fair enough?”

All in the small room shouted a hearty ‘Aye!’

“Very well… can’t promise till I speak wi’ Cap’n Brand…. But I’s sure it’ll be fine…”