The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter bid Captain Brand a good afternoon and stepped down to the waist and over to Miss McDonough. She had just put on both shoes and he helped her stand.

“Right then… we’re off ta th’ market…”

She smiled up at him and nodded.

“Aye sur…”

Over to the rail, he helped her start down into the waiting Jollywatt, once she was settled he climbed down and into the sternsheets, taking the tiller.

“At yer leisure genn’lmen, shove off…”

The bow curved away from the frigate and soon the sweeps were being pulled at a fine rate, powering the small boat across the bay and to the wharf under the guns of the citadel called Fort Royal. Dorian watched as the young Taylor took in all the sights of the bay around them as they traveled as he scanned the shoreline and looked to all the ships at anchor, taking note of one ship in particular. It was a frigate of French design, looking either freshly out of the slip or freshly repaired and painted. At this distance and with sails furled, she looked familiar but not. His curiosity got the best of him.

“My apologies lads… first two rounds ‘r on me… gonna take a wee change o’ course….”

The men bent at the sweeps first wore a look of displeasure, then brightened at the mention of drink using the captain’s coin. Dorian pushed the tiller over and they headed towards the ship that piqued his interest and were soon within two cables of it. The stern was slanted away from them so they made a wide arc around to see her name, all the while Dorian was searching his memory, trying to place the ship. As the jollywatt slide past the quarter and her name came into view, Dorian blurted it out.

“Le Requiem! Capitaine Fournier…”

He brought himself back to his surroundings, glanced at the men and Murin. He cleared his throat.

“Ah hmmm… We’ve dined wi’ th’ cap’n an’ officers o’ this fine ship… she looks t’ve been in battle… Might hafta tell Cap’n Brand an’ especially Doctor Fitzgerald that she be in port…”

Nods followed from those aboard, thought they had no connection to the proceedings. Dorian steered their course back to the original destination and in little time they were tied up to the wharf.

[Alder]

"Those who excel in their efforts to restore this vessel and improve both the Heron and the prize for sale, shall be remembered in mine and the Captain Lasseter's favor hereafter."

The captain’s words echoed as Alder traced the path as the small band of crew exiting the Watch Dog. Although the matter of loyalty ranked high in his credo, Alder chose to stay aboard, not so much to gain favor; as to complete essential tasks of replacing timer sections far too damaged to be repaired. Thought his muscles ached to the very sinew in his relentless toil, Alder knew neither vessel nor allegiance were forged hastily or effortlessly and he sought to make both unyielding.

Alder spied Miss McDonough as she ambled gently to shore, her garments belying the unmistakable femininity that had a brief time before caused him to consciously straighten his posture as he recounted to her his repair efforts. He felt her presence well before she spoke as his blade bit the span that he was tending and wondered uncomfortably if it was merely her uncertainty at her task that caused her to pause before addressing him. Alder was unsure of the wisdom in the company of women crew aboard such a journey, but gave the premise no further time, and returned to his work.

Even as the parade of humanity bustled in the port, bartering any manner of good and services, he considered that which what had set him on this journey. Alder observed a amber skinned soul harassed by the burden of far too heavy a load. He pondered what negotiation in solemn silence this man had uttered toward the ether that forced this hand and not another. He recounted the actions of the trespassing villain that was now aloof. What had set one man to honor and one to set a blade toward others? The weight of the struggling man shifted abruptly regaining Alder’s attention as the man spat a unfamiliar obscenity and kicked toward a haggard young feline that scurried out of his path and paused. The tiny speck of russet cat turned toward Alder’s gaze and sat, staring out toward The Watch Dog with the same seeming curiosity of time and place that found these two cast in this moment.

With an all too familiar crackle from the fissure, the wood yielded from his last pass and Alder turned from his distractions to resume his task.

[William Brand]

July 28, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Seven bells of the Afternoon Watch

Another hour passed with work continuing uninterrupted. Repairs aboard a sailing vessel were common. Common enough that the labor was almost expected, battle or not.

Seawater and wood make poor allies, and despite her refitting at La Desirade, the Watch Dog was showing her recent travails. Storm and combat had combined to weaken the 'Dog in a few places. The regional woods which Rummy had employed during her resurrection, some two months back, were stronger and better suited to the worms of this region, but much of the frigate's overall materials were still English oak and susceptible to decay, so the crew did what must be done before they would put to sea again.

William watched over these repairs, sometimes up close, and sometimes from the holy ground. He also surveyed the port of Cul du Sac Royal and the many ships at anchor around them. He noted now by the full sun that Le Requiem was anchored not far off and wondered that no envoy should have come from there yet. He made a note to travel there in the evening when the Larboard Watch was returned.

Jim Warren came up to the quarterdeck and interrupted his observations. "Beg pardon, Cap'n."

"Yes, Mister Warren."

"Some of the men are asking after Jannes, Sah."

"Ahhh, yes. Jannes." William agreed, nodding. He stood a moment in thought, wondering how best they might dispose of the fallen Dutchman. "With his will dispersed, we shall put to sea and bury him. With the 'Dog under repairs...I shall speak with Captain Lasseter upon his return. You may inform them that we shall bury Jannes no later than noon tomorrow."

"Very good, Sah."

~Starboard Watches on Duty

[Dorian Lasseter]

Fort Royal, Martinique

Village of Fort Royal

Captain Lasseter and Ships Taylor McDonough, along with the two crewmen on the jollywatt gathered the bundles of clothes and satchels from the small boat and deposited them on the wharf. Some little bit of haggling in broken French later, a man with a wheelbarrow was employed to haul said items along til they could be sold. He was given an extra piece of silver when he interjected during the sale of the clothing and old shoes, getting them a better price. Three stops were made before the bundles were gone and the satchels empty, and a heavy purse was gained. Silver in hand, the monsieur happily trundled away, bidding a good day to them. Dorian sent the men back to watch the Herons’ boat, but not before visiting a small tavern and letting them drink on his coin. He didn’t let them get into their cups, reminding them that they were still on duty, not yet released for shore leave. They would be soon, but not until the change of watch, less than an hours time. He instructed them that He would not be back til later, but to stay at the wharf until those coming off shore leave arrived, allowing them use of the Jollywatt to ferry themselves back to the ship, etc. They all headed back into the streets, the men to the boat, the Captain and Taylor to the shops to find supplies for the marines’ uniforms and items of necessity for the two ships they called home.

[William Brand]

July 28, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

The eighth bell rang aboard the three ships and First Dog Watch began out on the Cul du Sac Royal. William was not surprised to see the slow return of the Larboard Watch, for they still had some two full hours to ebb back to the three ships before they would be missed...and summarily disciplined. Only a handful returned within that short span before the first bell of the First Dog Watch, and William noted everyone of them by name.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Alder]

As he caressed the well placed timber, Alder was confident the grain would marry well with its surroundings. He scrutinized every streamlined pattern and variation; sure of its strength in holding back the sea even as it once held its canopy aloft through both sun and storm. The texture and unique shade reminded him of the well-oiled sea chest that was hauled aboard the Heron under Captain Lasseter’s vigilant eye. The Captain shared an eye for the analysis of materials but was also gifted in the appraisal of men. In this instance it seemed however, the Captain was not unsure of the crew's due diligence as much as this article was a prized possession.

Indeed, a sea chest held more than a sailor’s possessions, it was at the veritable core of his existence flanked by cradle and; fates willing at long distance, his coffin. It embraced and held sacred his common objects and his uncommon dreams. Aye, a sea chest was a haven in this seaward commune, which was a sailor’s own, private and sacrosanct.

Alder had long imagined setting himself to such a project of the soul. He envisioned selecting just the prized offerings of lumber that had called to him craving this purpose. His hands tensed slightly as muscle mimicked thought, following the carving of each joint and intricate detail that he would engrave into each cleat. But what of the beckets? A carpenter second to none, but plying his trade outward bound was taxing on occasion. A sailor of any measure must have skill of knots and Alder held his own, though he admittedly, was no craftsman in this realm. His choice to assist would have been a clean one had his shipmate Marq survived the attack on the Heron. Marq was a veteran sailor who could fancy a knot like no other Alder had ever experienced. Alder exhaled his regrets, wiped the sweat from his brow and reached for his hammer. Thoughts of crafts and camaraderie must wait.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Fort Royal, Martinique

Village of Fort Royal

The Captain of the Heron and the Watch Dog’s Tailor continued through the town marketplace, they stopped many times to look and buy items. Time passed. The sun started to make it’s way towards the horizon. The purchases that were made were left to be retrieved later, given the honour of the shopkeeper. Anything purchased from the small street shops were taken along, Dorian even purchased a large snapsack to carry said items. New buttons and buckles for uniforms, among other bits weighed it down quickly. Soon they began to make their way back to the wharf, seeing some of the crew waiting to be ferried back to their ships. Dorian sent Murin and the supplies back to the Watchdog, remaining on shore to make more deals, hoping his scant French would hold out. He pulled the half page of parchment and his pencil out of his waistcoat pocket and scratched off some of his list. He grabbed some of the waiting men to follow him, so they might carry the supplies already purchased back to the wharf and onto the ships. Once this was managed and the pouch of ships monies he brought was close to depleted, he turned to his own wants and needs… he walked alone, yet not since the streets and taverns were full of those from the Watch Dog and Heron. They all knew him and for the most part would watch out for each other. He passed many storefronts, ducked into many, and stopped for a drink and food with some of the men. The camaraderie was grande, as was the food. He was feeling very good soon enough, yet maintained his guard. He watched those around him, the locals, the foreigners, watched the crowd move about. Even saw a pickpocket at work. There eyes met and Dorian smiled, shook his head slightly and patted his one pistol butt. The padfoot froze for a moment, then without the prize in hand disappeared into the sea of humanity. The smile on the captain’s face widened slightly, then slowly waned.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

The tavern was surging with activity, but there was hardly a move made that escaped Tudor's notice. No one came in or out with out her noting their looks, where they went in the room and how they acted. And while she was no where near letting her gaurd down, she felt confident and secure in that this was just like any other tavern and there was no immediet threat, and if there were it would be nothing that she and the rest of the search party could not handle.

"Zees Tawny you zay. May he 'ave zee last name?" She reacted quickly to hear this response to the Master-at-arm's question from the corner of the turbulent room, her pistol waiting and ready by her side. She quirked an brow at the stranger's insistance that he meant no harm, but it had been her experience that anyone who held information of your enemies but held it like bait was usually up to no good. Her attentions were now focused on this man as Pew looked to Claude, and she was ready to move at a moment's notice.

[Pew]

The man's cap was tilted ever so slightly just so you could see his eyes. He uncrossed his hands across his chest and sat upright in his chair.

"Wot you know about Tawny?" I asked gruffly.

"A veezil if you kin call 'im zat. I too am looking for zees man." He raised his cap and pushed out a chair. "Please, a seat." He turned his head to the barkeep and muttered something in French. I looked and Claude and he whispered, "drinks."

The man stood and recieved the bottle from the barkeep. Bill remained at the door, while Tudor continued to watch the room.

"Monsieur?" he asked as he raised the bottle.

"Yes." I pulled a tankard from the table and tipped it over draining some drops of residue onto the dirt floor. Sliding it under the bottle the man topped it off and did the same with Claude's. The man stood and paced slowly as he told us his story.

"I am Jean Roublet. Currently serving under Captain Beaulieu out of Saint-Christophe." I introduced myself and Claude and pointed out Tudor and Bill. We shook hands and he managed a slight wave to Tudor and a nod to Mister Flint.

"One year agoo, our zhip was badly damaged in a ztorm and forced to limp into zee isle of Nevis." Jean went on to tell us he had run into Tawny there. Tawny had passed himself off as an apprentice carpenter. He was never seen or heard much of onboard until the ships coffers were found emptied and Tawny had vanished. "A zearch party, much like your own, turned over every dark corner on zat isle until he was vound." Tawny was found trying to force himself on a woman behind one of the taverns. Her screams led them to Tawny. "I was put in charge of his, how do you zay, zentance. He was to be hanged on zee next morning, but slipped from iz restraints never to be zeen again. Zee man 'az a price on 'iz 'ead from our Capitaine and froom zee Governor. Zees Tawny 'as upset many people." Claude and I nodded as the man refilled our tankards.

"Zee last word form Nevis waz zat 'e was zeen ztowing about a Dutch ship bound for Martinique. Vich brings me to here."

Claude nudged me and whispered "..the Maastricht?"

"Zee Maastricht, zat eez eet." Jean said and his eyes widened.

I wiped the remaining drink from my top lip and ran my hand through my long goatee. "We took 'er as a prize several days ago. Tawny slipped his way aboard our ship, the Watch Dog. He was caught trying much of the same you have mentioned." Claude leaned back in his chair and Tudor made her way to the table. Jean saw the young lady approach and quickly rose to pull out her chair. Claude and I looked at each and rolled our eyes. "He was shot 'n fell o'erboard tryin' t' escape from th' crew. Killed a man aboard 's well."

"Mister Roublet, we would.." I began.

"Jean, s'il vous plaît," he quickly interrupted and then nodded.

"Jean, we would 'preciate you lendin' a hand t' us ashore 'ere. Ano'er hand 'n the search mebbe?"

"Oui, Monsieur Pew, I would," he glanced at Tudor, "help in zee zearch zat eez."

[Black Syren]

Frivolity, spirits were high and she laughed at Ciarnan as he stumbled into her trying to regain his sealegs as they moved down the dock towards the town and the taverns. She was slightly damp from the sea as they had rowed ashore but she was eager to stretch her legs, and more eager for that swim. She could not speak with the new Dutch members nor could Ciarnan so they used hand gestures and laughed all the more as their hand gestures caused more confusion than conversation.

Sticking close to Ciarnan as they entered a tavern she took a moment to let her eyesight adjust to the dimness, her ears ringing with the raucous laughter and bawdy songs. Finally able to see she took in a small tavern, filled with occupants and saw her crewmates settling for a table in the corner. All chairs taken she hurried to catch up and looked about for another chair and was quickly scooped up and placed in one of the new crew members lap. Laughing she called for rum and wrapped her arm about the Dutchie’s shoulders to keep her balance and keenly took in all that was happening.

Hours later filled by food and rum and not willing to be the pleasurable company the Dutchie clearly sought she rose and whispered to Ciarnan that she was off for a swim. He admonished her to be careful for Tawny was still an unknown. Laughing she tossed her head and patted her dagger “He is injured, twill take him time to recover if he still lives.” She assured him. Then with a wink and a squeeze of his shoulder she left them to the Ladies that were clearly anxious for their coins. Though she was thankful they had respected her somewhat she still found it amusing that they waited for her to leave before seeking such. She could hear the Dutchman protest her leaving and being small slipped easily through the crowd and outside into the sunshine.

Pausing for a moment to get her bearings she looked to the east, then to the west and finally headed to the west to seek a small secluded spot to swim. She kept to the shadows not wishing for trouble and paused as she passed a small catholic church. Tempted to wander within she looked to her garb and bit her lip and finally passed on. Reaching a small shopping district she peeped into several windows and strolling past one window paused at seeing a white gown within. Stopping she glanced about and seeing none about she quickly tucked up her hair in her cap and slowly entered. The modiste a round friendly woman moved from behind the counter and smiled and she deepened her voice “the gown, I wish to buy it fer me sister. Will ye wrap it up and send it to the WatchDog?” As the modiste studied her she fidgeted and when the woman named a healthy sum she knew the other had caught on and blushed “Ill need the underthings and shoes as well.” Quickly negotiating a new fairer price she paid and left and headed out to the beach.

Leaving behind the world she moved down a steep path towards the roar of the sea and let the site and sound rejuvinate her. Laughing she began to run down the shore, her sandals wet as she frolicked in the surf, then stripping she waded out and dove deep, the water closing over her,as she rose her laughter rang out and she swam for what seemed like hours before tiring and moving to lay upon the sand allowing the sun and wind to dry her naturally. She only had a short time before she had to return to duty, but this time was hers.

[Pew]

Eric Franklin

The log had been meticulously maintained by Preston and Eric. Looking over the last several entries, Eric realized the Watch Dog had become a floating arsenal. He dogeared the latest entry page and turned back several more pages. He saw that Preston had made a notation of all of the deceased crew members weapons. Eric moved several crates and finally made his way to the back of the small room. Eric moved the shaded lantern to a better perch. Opening the top crate in the corner, Eric found a parchment folded and placed on top of a canvas tarp. He unfolded the paper and held it to the light,

“Captain William

Cutlass, blunderbuss with spring bayonet, brace of .62 heavy pistols, brace of .50 screw barrel pistols, dagger, skean dubh”

Eric unwrapped the canvas to reveal the listed weapons. Winding the cordage back around the weapons he moved to the next pile. Raising the lantern , Eric found another canvas tarp with a small tanned parchment on top.

“Diego Santana de la Vega

3 pistols, deck scatterer, 3 knives, cutlass, Scottish claymore, boarding axe”

Eric continued in this fashion for nearly an hour, comparing the lists to the armoury log. He dragged several of those crates into the cabin, swearing all the while. Marking each one with a large “X”, he set those to the side.

Even with the noise from the ship’s carpenter and newly acquired Dutch woodworker pounding away in the ward room, Owen slept through most of the day several decks below. It was the swearing of Eric Franklin that brought him back to the land of the living. Owen arose from his hammock, yawned and stretched and rubbed his sore hand. The bandage had been freshly applied and no crimson stain arose. He trudged across the berth deck and peered into the Master-at-arm’s cabin.

“Can ya be a bit louder there mate?” Owen wondered aloud smartly.

“Bugger off Owen,” Eric turned and quickly replied. He stood there with a blunderbuss in one hand and a doglock musket in the other, resting the butt of each on either side of his hips. Owen looked at the weapons, and then at Eric as Eric did the same. Squinting his eyes and baring his teeth, Eric formed a devilish grin upon his face. “I may be getting a wee bit louder Owen. Care t’ stay about?” Eric grinned.

Owen quickly buttoned his slops and turned on his heels heading anywhere but in front of the sergeant-at-arms. As Owen bolted up the ladder stairway, several of the crew who had been watching from their hammocks erupted in laughter.

[William Brand]

July 28, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Three bells of the First Dog Watch.

The First Dog Watch was almost over and still the small boats were ferrying the Larboard Watch back from the docks. Most of them returned in good spirits, glad to have had at least some respite ashore. They returned of course, in varying degrees of joy, some having already spent a coin or two too many on such a short leave. some were already possessed of new hats or local baubles.

Alan Woodington returned with a smile and an eye that was already darkening from some untold event ashore. Someone had given him a very immediate souvenir, but He simply smiled and saluted the Captain as he came aboard the 'Dog, and William made no inquiries.

Lazarus Gage returned in a fashion which was not surprising, for the boat which bore him hence was heavily laden with acquired goods.

"I don't recall any orders touching the larder, Mister Gage..."

Lazarus simply smiled. "Personal stores, Captain."

"If that is what passes for personal stores, Mister Gage, then I shall be dining at your table in the future, and not my own."

"Aye, sah. Just trifles, Sah. We are frightfully low on those spices which come from abroad."

"Your galley, your judgment."

"Thank you, sah."

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

Village of Fort Royal

Full from the food and drink, Captain Lasseter slowly made his way from the tavern. It was just a bit too crowded for his tastes, moreso for his ears. He stepped out into the street, the light starting to wane a bit. He found a piece of ground to call his own at the front and pulled the smaller of his pipes from a pocket, along with a pouch of tobacco. His eyes wandered around the area as he packed the bowl with the fragrant herb, picking out possible threats. Most were too busy to notice him there, as he was not dressed in anything much better than most sailors in the area. After putting the tobacco away, he strolled over to the freshly lit lanterns near the entrance and opened the shutter on one, lit the pipe and returned it as it was. Walking back to the spot previously taken, he leaned against the building and again took in the sights of the late afternoon. A short respite to relax and turn to other thoughts

[William Brand]

July 28, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Fourth bell of First Dog Watch. Second Dog Watch begins.

The last of the Larboard Watch was still arriving after the fourth bell of the First Dog Watch had sounded. William stood at the waist with his pocket watch out, counting aloud every minute that past beyond the leave of absence which had been granted.

The last boat to ferry crew back from the docks contained at least two of the 'Dog's marines, Ciaran and Treasure among them. Ciaran looked embarrassed to be arriving late.

"My apologies, Sah!" he called out across the water.

"Eagle eyes for all things but clocks...Ciaran?" William returned.

"Sah...the tide is frightfully strong tonight!"

"Ayyyye. But which tide...? The Cul du Sac Royal...or...the Cul du Sac Rum Punch?"

There were a few smiles and chuckles along the rails, for Ciaran was seldom one to be caught out of the Captain's grace. Still, William's tone was not an angry one, for he was in good spirits, and to be completely honest, he was glad that someone had arrived late. He wanted an example, albeit a gentle one.

He turned his back to the approaching boat and faced the men and women already waiting in the waist. Some of them looked anxious, Apollo coin burning heavy, round holes in their purses. Some looked flushed from rum so recently enjoyed ashore.

"A slip of the watches will not be tolerated, you dogs." William began, but the tone was an affectionate one, after a fashion. "You dogs." he continued. "You loyal and brave dogs. Mind well your purposes aboard ship and your adventures ashore. I see, by my count, that none are left ashore that were not put there for some purpose." William paused. "We have need of of further recruits aboard the 'Dog and Heron. You may pass the word among the taverns and shopkeepers that there is a place here for any worthy seaman. Mister Warren!"

"Aye, Sah!"

"The Starboard Watch has their leave to go ashore."

"Aye, Sah!"

"You have the night and the morning. Everyone of you of the Starboard Watch. Do not let me find you still ashore after the Forenoon Watch is ended!"

~Larboard Watches on Duty

[Black Syren]

Treasure flushed and looked guiltily to Ciaran for it was she that had made them late, She had indeed lost track of time when she had went for her swim and by the time she had made it back to the tavern it was late and Ciaran was worried.

Touching his shoulder she mouthed an apology and as the next set of the crew took their leave she paused waiting to catch William’s attention. Her color still high she fidgeted as she waited for her Captain to notice her. He had not sounded angry but the fault was hers and not Ciaran's.

[William Brand]

William was in the midst of a discussion with Jim Warren, but there could be no mistaking Miss Tribbiani's discomfort from where she stood hard. William and Jim noted her together, so William excused himself from the Coxswain's company and turned towards her.

"Miss Tribbiani. Is something the matter?"

[Black Syren]

As the Captain turned to face her she lifted her gaze to his and kept them there. She had always been told that the eyes would tell the most about a person and their sincerity and she wanted him to know that she meant what she was going to say.

"Tis my fault Sir! I mean us being late, I went for a swim and I lost track of time not Ciaran. Im truly sorry sir and it wont happen again." She went to curtsy and hastily corrected herself to tug at her wet forelock instead.

[William Brand]

William smiled a little and nodded, having already put the matter behind him. He leaned in a little as if to convey some secret information to the Larboard Marine.

"Resume your post, Miss Tribbiani."

[Black Syren]

Eyes widening in surprise she tugged at her forelock again and quickly whirled once more a whirlwind of energy and moved towards her post and winked at Ciaran.

Reaching the rigging she began to haul herself upwards then paused.

"Captain, Has the Dog received any packages Sir?' she asked huskily, her face flushing once more with hot color.

[William Brand]

William turned from Mister Warren again. "I don't believe so, Miss Tribbiani. Mister Warren?"

"None, Sah." Mister Warren returned. "Unless any goods came aboard with Mister Gage."

"Aye." William said. "A great many goods came aboard with him. You may ask after your goods there."

[Black Syren]

Shook her head with a grin "Nay Sir, it's to come to the Dog sir I doubt Mr. Gage would have it. But I will check with him." Indeed she could hardly wait to try on the pristine gown and feel like a Lady again.

With a laugh she tossed her wet mane and scampered into the rigging singing a bawdy shanty and causing Ciaran to laugh. Catching his laugh she soon swept into another song, one more haunting and soothing to the ears.

"Caro mio ben, Cre di mi al mien" and on the song went, a beautiful aria she had learned as a child.

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough and the goods that Mister Lasseter and she had gathered made way to the Watch Dog with the assistance of crew from Larboard watch returning early. She spent the remaining hours of her watch sorting, storing, and arranging the new items in the hold preparing for use tomorrow. As she worked she considered her work space. An open space would be needed for cutting, perhaps the table in the Surgery Ward could be used; she would need to ask Doctor Fitzgerald. The lass continued to work through several bells of the watch. When she was nearly finished with her work she was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Murin looked up into the bemused face of Nathan Bly. “Going ashore today?”

“Aye.” she looked a bit incredulous at the question, “Of course I’ll bae goin.” She said shaking her head, rolling her eyes as she returned to her work.

“Well then you may wish to gather yourself and join the rest of our watch.”

“I’ve time yet.”

Nathan raised his hands to the beam above and leaned in a bit his smile growing. “It is past eighth bells my lady.”

Murin’s eyes widened as she straightened herself to face the lad directly. “It ken nil bae det late!”

“Tis det late!”Nathan replied imitating the girl.

Laughing and shaking her head she threw the fid in her hand at the lad's torso but his reflexes were quick and he caught it easily. "Gather your things Murin. Please join us." There was a tone of sincerity in his voice that said "join me" but it was lost on Miss McDonough so accustomed to viewing him as a friend.

Nathan lifted the lass's hat and waistcoat from the peg they hung on. "Come then, this will wait, there is nothing left out ...except this fid, that will roll away." Handing her the fid he said, "Put it away and let us go enjoy our time on ashore." Taking the fid from him she tossed it into the sea chest she had been working in. She stood and held her hand out for her outer wear but he simply stepped closer placing the cocked hat on her head and held the waistcoat so that she could shrug into it easily. As she looped each brass button she calculated the coin she had in her pouch. "I tink I shull need moore coin if I m't'purchase all I wont." and headed to her belongings. He waited as she counted out a few more coins and the two headed up the companion way together.

Squinting in the light topside she saw that there were still many of the crew waiting to be ferried to the wharf making her feel less foolish and more relaxed. She smiled at the crew she knew, realizing that the work given her by Captain Brand as steward today had afforded her time to meet more of the crew on her watch, forced her to communicate with others. She had hoped to find Constance and Meg who she had planned to share some time ashore with but in the throng of crew she could not see them. As she and Nathan stood waiting there turn to disembark the remnants of the crew joined them at the end of the roughly formed que.

[Pew]

Search Party Ashore

The conversation became more familiar as Claude slipped back into his native tongue and began sharing stories with the new member of the party. Tankards were run dry and Jean Doublet offered more than his share of bottles as they were passed around the table. Even the stalwart Bill Flint sat and enjoyed the conversation and a mug of drink. Tudor sat quiet for most of the time, until she heard mention of names and places she too had visited and then she launched into her own tales.

For the better part of an hour the group continued to pass around stories of their past and present. Tudor began with the sighting of the Heron and the Maastricht, and Bill outlayed the battle with perfect military precision. Claude and I continued, telling of how Tudor struck the Maastricht’s colours and how the Heron was overtaken easily with single shots from Geri and Freki.

“An entire zhip halted by two people?” Jean asked innocently.

“Our stern chasers, Jean, ‘s a pair o’ 18 pounders,” I smiled.

“Bout of course,” he laughed. “All you cannon ‘ave zee names?” He asked again.

“Surely, lessee, th’ bow chasers, ah, Troubleshooter and Bloody Thunder,” I began.

Tudor quickly helped continue, “Jeanie, Havoc, ah, Buttercup…” The crew looked at each other as if this was suddenly a game to see who could remember the rest of the great ship’s guns.

“Coup de Grace, Straight shot, His Grace, Goliath,” Bill continued down the starboard side of the ship, “Beezlebub, Sofia…”He thought for a moment and put his hand to his chin showing off the large tattoos on his arms. This caught the eye of Jean, but he made no mention of them.

“Aye Bill, they be on the larboard,”Claude corrected and helped to continue.

As each cannon was sounded off, a nod went around the table as if another notch was etched on a scorecard. Upon reaching the stern chasers, Jean filled in the twin 18 pounders. I raised my tankard, “T’ th’ Watch Dog.” A hearty cheer went up followed by the draining of what fluid was left in the vessels. I opened my satchel and laid upon the table the map that Captain Brand had drawn for us. Pointing to our present town, I explained we were to travel around the Cul de Sac Royal to meet up with those ashore on leave, and dispose of Tawny.

Rolling the map back up and tying it off, I left the table with a pouch of coins for the barkeep and the crew made a quick collection of arms. Jean stood and placed a small leather bag over his shoulder. A brace of pistols along with a beautiful French Swept Hilt Rapier was also attached as he drank what rum was left in the bottle. The blade caught the eye of Tudor and she narrowed her eyes as if she had seen the weapon someplace before.

Bill Flint had already gone outside in the to try to arrange passage for us around the harbor to Bourg de la Rivere Salee’ and then on to Bourg de Trou de Chat. As the four of us left the tavern, we find that Mister Flint had not only found a cart and driver for us, but a boy to sail the Samson back to Fort Royal where his uncle would then pick him up in the cart for the trip back to Bourg de Cul Vache.

“Well done Mister Flint,” I clasped my hand on his shoulder. He managed a slight grin. “Maybe this ‘ll make up for th loss o’ th’ boarding axe you threw overboard at Tawny. “ His grin turned stoic and he hung his head a slight bit. I smiled and he looked up. The grin returned and he laughed.

[Silkie McDonough]

Patrick Hand stood among several of the Dutch struggeling to communicate. Murin McDonough could not help but grin at his attempts. He was clearly talking about shore leave, good ale and... she laughed audibly at his gesture, using both hands, clearly describing buxom women. The lass turned away from the crowd as she felt the blush of embarrassment wash up her neck to her face. As she demurely brushed one of the stray curls from her face she became acutely aware of eyes upon her. Murin's eyes locked with those of the new ships Carpenter as she looked to the source of the sensation. She remembered him well, watched him at his craft before interrupting his work. She had spoken with him earlier today, taking a report for Captain Brand. Was it he who had been he been starring at her just now? Her lips curled at the corners and, unsure of herself, diverted her eyes, focusing on the members of the Starboard Watch before her. Again she glanced in the direction of Mister Wenge, both hoping and fearing that she might catch the mans eye once more.

[William Brand]

July 28, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

First bell of Second Dog Watch

William watched the rank and file of the Starboard Watches go over the side and down to the waiting boats. By the first bell of the Second Dog Watch, almost all of the Starboard crews were gone, rowing with more enthusiasm than those Larboard crews had rowed in return.

William fetched a bottle of some unknown but delicate vintage from the small stash within the Ward Room and had it dispatched with the Dingy to Le Requiem with his compliments.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~