The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal

The night had been a long one for Alan Woodington, for he had kept the rigid schedule of the continuous bells aboard ship, despite spending much of his time ashore guarding the boats there. Most of the crew had maintained a somewhat relaxed view of the bells, for even the officers had allowed men and women to rest and rise for work when they were most able, disregarding the strictness of the watches. Discipline in general was gentler than it had been anytime before, but Alan, enjoying his new found duty as a marine, had kept the vigil of the small boats. During the late night, he had come across the water to man the watch of the tiny craft along with Pascal and Cobus, and his one true sleep of the night had been interrupted by Bill Flint, who had arrived unexpected to see that the Samson had arrived.

Alan and Bill had exchanged some news, though there was far too little to be shared between them. Tawny was either dead or still abroad. The search party had circumvented the whole of Cul du Sac Royal with no reward but the company of Jean. Bill informed Alan that Mister Pew and the others were to take their sleep ashore that morning, and having no news himself, Alan sent Bill again with the comfort that the Samson was secured and guarded and that he would send word of their journey to the 'Dog at first opportunity.

Had Alan known of Captain Lasseter's predicament at that time, he surely would have sent the search party to his immediate aid, but the bay had been dark and pocked with stars when they conversed. Indeed, much might be going on ashore without their knowledge, but spread wide as the crew was, news had to come to them.

. . .

Now, some five hours later, and in the growing heat of the morning, Alan, Pascal and Cobus prepared to shove off in the heavy laden boats to bear Captain Lasseter's goods to the waiting ships. The hired hands employed along the edge of the docks had been fastidious in their efforts and the boats were filled to brimming. Alan would not have risked a crossing with so many goods aboard, but the weather was quite calm, the water lying almost flat. The three men had little difficulty rowing across such a surface of glass, and they made their way very slowly, finding no need to hurry themselves.

Birds as similar and different to Alan as any found off the docks of the Thames, circled about the small boats as they made the crossing. Their raucous cries filled the morning air, and perhaps the birds understood that food stuffs lay among the many other items crammed within the vessels. They made many attempts to land, but Alan staved them off with some shrill whistles he had perfected as a boy.

This caused Alan to reflect on the tavern he had lived and worked in as a young man. It was a proper Tavern with all of the trappings of a drinking house near the docks. It was decorated in the loving, but altogether ramshackle way that many establishments are, filled wall to wall with gifts, trophies of the sea, personal effects, antiquated objects and an ebb and flow of human traffic like a tide of salt, which came and went at all hours of the day. His father had called it The Guildhouse, in honor of that guild of watermen that had ferried men and women up and down the Thames for generations. Prior to this, it had been simply called "Southbend", and some still called it such from time to time.

"He's probably renamed it the Wayward Son by now." Alan thought with a smile made of one part regret and two parts satisfaction.

Between two and three bells of the Forenoon Watch

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough descended the stairs. As she neared the bottom a stair squealed, the carpenter look as the imperfection of the craftsmanship allowed such a noise but he turned away so quickly he did not see her smile in his direction. To her delight many of the lads from the crew had spent the night at the inn and were also breaking their fast. Maurice Roche smiled as the lass approached “Madame moselle McDonough, did you sleep well?” he inquired as he drew a chair from beneath the table for her. “Aye Maurice, I slept very well indeed. An’you Roche? Did ya find accommodations to yer liking lad?” None in the party saw the wink she shared with Roche as she gracefully settled in the chair. He smiled a wry smile and almost blushed that the lass would joke thus. She herself was somewhat surprised at her boldness but was finding her voice with her crew mates.

The meal provided was large and the variety amazed Murin. There was fruit, meats, cheeses and fresh eggs followed by pastries, light, flaky, buttery, and sweet, unlike any the lass had ever tasted in her life. By meals end she experiencing something she had never experienced in her life. To be beyond full. Peculiar, she thought, how uncomfortable. The days walk would be welcome!

Murin asked Maurice inquire what she owed for the morning meal and inform the Landlord that the mattress had bugs and needed to be changed out. The Keeps brow furrowed and his eyes squinted as he looked down his nose at the lass. She could not understand the mans words but the condescending note in his voice when he used the term Irisher was not disguised. Maurice's tone, though not any louder, became unyielding and his eyes narrowed as he spoke to the Keep. In an instant the man's demeanor changed he was looking rather uncomfortable under Maurice's gaze as he glanced from sailor to sailor and back again. Then ha turned to leave without collecting the girls coin. An unspoken question was read on the lass' face.

"There is no charge for your breakfast your breakfast madame moselle McDonough"

"Wot was said Roche?"

"Tis of no concern. Let it pass."

"Maurice, tell mae wot was said."

Maurice sighed, "When I mentioned z'bugs in z'bed he sajested pearhaps you had brought zem wiss you." Murin tensed and scanned the room for the man in question. "In reesponse I sajested zat pearhaps z'crew of z-swee ships zat you sailed wiss would be informed zat an infestasheeon had been found at zis Inn." Murin's eyes widened. "He apolojized for es mistake and ask zat I con-vey es apologies." Murin laughed a little satisfied laugh, thanked Maurice for his assistance and promised him a drink when next they were on shore. "Madame moselle, noh payment is needed for what I ave done. You have family now." Murin smiled again, curtsied to Roche then turened to the exit.

"Murin!" Nathan called just as she reached the exit "May I join you?"

"Natan, I m shoppin fer ladies tings. Unless ya wants t'bae fowlerin mae round fer d'next few hours lookin at fabrics an souch ya'd best stay wit d'lads." With that she gave him a friendly squeeze then exited into the sunlight!

Miss Murin McDonough knew where she was headed. She had been in the shop while she and Mister Lasseter had been bargaining for the supplies and work needed for the Marine uniforms. The workmanship was exquisite. New clothing! New shoes, petticoats, and a stays …brand new stays made just for her! She would never have dreamed of owning new clothing in Ballycastle and as a slave the clothing supplied her was used nor did it belong to her. She nearly danced as she walked up the now familiar streets of Cul du Sac Royal.

...and a new hat.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian awoke in the room of the Inn, it was hot and stuffy, the shutters blotting out most of the light trying to enter. When he opened his eyes they shot through with pain. A sliver of sunlight crossed his eyes just so, blinding him in pain. He growled as he jerked away from the light, causing himself a touch of dizziness as he did so.

“Goode Lard… my achin’ head…”

He put his hands to his face and touched the bandage across his brow. After some deep breaths he pushed the covers off and sat up slowly. He remained sitting with his head in his hands for a time. Finally he felt well enough to stand, which he did so with little difficulty. Walking slowly, he made his way to the basin and mirror and poured out some water from the pitcher. He dipped his hands then splashed his face. He rubbed water into his eyes, then wiped down his neck. Taking up the towel he wiped the water away and looked into the mirror. The wound on his temple had seeped slightly, the poultice did a fine job of staunching any more blood. He made to remove the bandage but stopped himself from doing so. Resigned that he would leave things be, he proceeded to pour more water into the basin and used another cloth to clean any remnants of the evening’s attack from his body. He dressed slowly, at first he looked at his shirt, bloodied and soiled from the fight, he thought he might rinse it out, but it would then be wet against him. He pulled on his slops and hose, then shoes. He draped his waistcoat across his shoulders and buttoned it up. He headed to the door and opened it a crack. No one was in the hall. He headed out and down to the front counter where the desk clerk sat, who jumped when he took notice of the Captain. Dorian calmly explained he was up in the third room on the right, was brought here by a doctor very very late. Recognition passed over the mans features and he visibly calmed. Dorian then asked if a tailor could be found or someone sent to a shop to purchase a good shirt for him, as his was damaged. A small silver coin was given along with a larger one that would be enough to cover the cost. The man agreed that he could do so within the hour. Dorian decided to order a meal and have it sent to his room. Agreements made, he headed back up and back into his darkened space. Once there, he turned to more practical things. There was a small table and chair in a corner near the window. Picking up his pistol and cutlass, he set them on the flat surface ad retrieved the basin and rags. He set to cleaning what he could off his cutlass and also did a reasonable job of cleaning his pistol. Searching the pockets of his waistcoat, he found two rolled cartridges and ball. Satisfied that the pistol was dry enough and still very serviceable, he loaded it, not about to be caught without it at time of need. He had been inspecting his sword when a knock came at the door. He answered it to find a young lad there with a parcel, and of all things his hat that he had lost.

“Why… thankee lad, where did ye find m’hat?”

The boy didn’t understand his English, so he tried his French.

“Où avez-vous trouvé mon chapeau ?”

The boy smiled and explained it had been brought to the front desk after he had arrived by the Chandlers son. Dorian smiled and again thanked the lad, who after handing him the parcel fished in his pocket for the captain’s change. Dorian waved him off, bidding him a good day. Off the lad went and almost collided with the fellow on the stairs bringing the requested meal to the captain’s room.

[Pew]

Fort Royal

Sunlight streaming into my room awakes from a slumber I sorely wished to continue. Moaning, and rubbing my temples I look about the room to try and remember what had happened the night before. Claude came in and leaned heavily on the door frame.

"Do you.." he began.

I simply shook my head slowly as he lost the urge to continue. Not even caring why he slept elsewhere, we gathered our belongings and went to Jean's room. A very quet rap on the door left no answer. We moved down the narrow hall to collect Tudor. Another gentle rap on her door and she replied loudly. To which Claude and I grabbed our ears cringing and waiting for the ringing to stop. Claude simply told her to meet us downstairs.

We were met at the front with Jean and anothe man carrying a large sack over his shoulder and a musket in the other hand. A confused look to Claude and he returned the same.

"Mister Pew," the large man spoke. I put out my hand and shook it soundly leaving my vision nearly blurred. Trying to refocus, I leaned against the post in the middle of the great room and tried to maintain.

"Preston, you do remember Luc," Jean asked quizzically.

"Of course," I stammered. "Luc..."

"Otkupshchikov," the man replied.

I raised my eyebrows as the early morning slowly crept into my conciousness. The man had sat his bag on the floor as Jean tried to fetch a tankard for us while we waited. I looked at the man closely as he peered out the window into the morning light.

"Is he one of our marines?" Claude whispered.

"Quite possibly," I replied.

The man stood tall as he walked back onto the small porch. Not as tall as Mister Flint, but nearly the same height. A sleeveless vest showed his giant forearms and biceps. He ran his hands through shoulder length coal black hair and Claude and I both noticed the several scars all along his forearms and onto his hands. A large knife handle appeared in the back of his waist with what appeared to be a brass handle sticking out of it's sheath.

Jean had retrieved the tankards and startled Claude and I.

"Eez a big boy, non?" whispered Jean from behind Claude and I. We both nodded.

"If 'e can handled himself like he did last night, he'll be a big marine also," Claude said. I looked at Claude as if he knew more of the puzzle.

"Back 'ome ee waz a trapper." Jean said quietly.

"Where 's home?" I asked.

"Russia." Jean said bluntly as if Luc's last name couldn't have been more obvious. Claude laughed.

We gathered our things as Tudor made her way downstairs. Luc bowed slightly and said hello and shook hands with Tudor. Her eyes grew wide to see a man Luc's size be so gentle.

We made our way into the avenue and the bright Caribbean sunlight. Squinting and holding my hand above my eyes, I was able to make out the figure of Bill Flint making his way towards us.

"Samson's ready sah, but.." Bill reported with a salute. I quickly returned the salute and introduced our new companion to the stalwart marine. Bill quickly interrupted, "Sah, Mister Lasseter's been shot."

"WHAT!?!?!" said the crew, nearly in unison.

"Aye sah. Tried to find you last night, but could not." Bill went on to try and describe what had been told to him.

"Where is he now?" I demanded, not trying to level blame on Bill.

Bill quickly named where the boy had told Mister Woodington he was last seen.

"I know zee place," Jean quickly said and started in that direction.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Having tied Chataigne in the shade, Jenny Ashcombe patted the horses forelocks and headed towards the docks on foot.

It was a beautiful morning, but as she emerged from the cover of the trees, it proved to be heading into one of those days typical of the season..a few moments respite in the early dawn, followed by the heat and humidity one became accustomed to in an island life. Secretly she longed to be free of the petticoats under the dress she now smothed. It was a Persian blue and Jenny happily imagined it matched the azure water she walked towards..the air was filled with a fresh salty breeze despite the growing heat. As she tucked a few stray hairs loosed during the ride to Cul De Sac Royal under her bonnet, she breathed deep the sea air taking in the sellers setting up their wares for the day and gulls stealing from the morning's catch. Beyond the docks were ships she hadn't seen before..with flags of different countries.

[William Brand]

"Ahoy the deck!" Siren called from aloft. "Small boats on approach!"

"Thank you, Miss Tribbiani!" William returned and made his way forward. The St. Christopher and Patricia were making slow and deliberate progress in the direction of the Watch Dog. William cupped his hands together and called to the men in the boats across the still and quiet water. "Mister Woodington. What news?"

Alan laid aside his oars as Cobus and Pascal continued to row the longboat, with the cutter in tow. He stood at the bow of the boat and called back. "Cap'n Lasseter sends his regards by way of supplies and goods for the 'Dog and Heron, Cap'n! I also have news of an attack on his person!"

William and Ciaran exchanged a look amidships, and William cupped his hands again. "Where is Captain Lasseter?"

"I'm told that he is recovering at an inn, Cap'n."

"You've not spoken with him then, Mister Woodington?"

"No, Sah!"

"Very well. You will report to the Ward Room when you come aboard!"

"Aye, Sah!"

William gave Ciaran the deck for a second time and sent Jean Dorleac to fetch up Eric Franklin. Then he disappeared into the passagway to the Ward Room to dress for shore.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter remained in his doorway until the man with the serving tray came near. He stepped out of the way allowing him entry so he might lay out the food requested. Dorian thanked the server when he was finished, both verbally and with coin. He pulled the door shut behind him and breathed in the aroma of the meal on the table. He began to set the parcel on the bed, but instead decided to open it. A fine shirt was contained in the wrappings. The clerk had done well as it was a rugged sailors shirt, made of heavy linen with either white bronze or silver buttons at the cuff and collar, he could not tell in the poor light, but wasn’t about to open a shutter to let more light in. He laid it on the bed and took off his waistcoat and was about to don the shirt when his stomache growled rather loudly.

“Heh…. ‘spose that c’n wait… aye…”

Placing the shirt back on the bed, he proceeded to the table and chair, sat and poured a cup of beer, tasted it and found it to his liking. Without much ado, he dove into the plate of food, now realizing he was famished. He did not stop until there was naught left for even a mouse to dine upon. He sat back and sighed, letting the meal digest a moment before dressing so he could make his way into the town and get to his ship to continue what business was needed to be completed.

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between Three and four bells of the Forenoon Watch

William dressed in attire more appropriate to his station as Captain, though he did this primarily for whatever public he might encounter ashore. He dressed in the dark coat which Kendra had fashioned for him, despite the promise of heat already in the air. He wore a red waistcoat under this to add contrast and color. He wore the only baldric he owned, which was dark, plain and made of well worn leather. Into this he fixed the cutlass he had worn for so many years and placed but one pistol in his belt.

Eric Franklin knocked firmly on the Ward Room door and William bid him enter.

"Mister Franklin, I am sorry to rouse you from your hammock, but I have received a report that Captain Lasseter has been assaulted ashore and I mean to go there to see that it is not too serious a matter."

Eric looked surprised, but steadfast. He nodded and waited for his orders, but before William could assign him any duty, another knock came at the Ward Room door and this time Alan Woodington reported with a salute. "Sahs."

"Report, Mister Woodington."

"Mister Pew and the search party arrived at the docks very early this morning. They have not discovered any evidence of the fugitive Tawny. I believe they took rest in town."

"Go on."

"Early this morning we received supplies purchased by Captain Lasseter. They came by way of cart and wagon and we proceeded to load them into the two larger boats ashore. While we were employed, an Irish woman by the name of...O'Treasaigh...arrived with news that she had mended Captain Lasseter. He was attacked during the night and he is now recovering at an inn ashore."

"Have you any further word of him?"

"No, Cap'n. Ms. O'Treasaigh seemed confident of his...mending, and so we thought to let him rest while we brought news straightway."

"Very good, Mister Woodington." William nodded, fetching one of three bags from the Ward Room strongbox. He tossed the bag of mixed jewelry onto the table next to his hat. "Gentlemen, I mean to go ashore for a time and inquire after the Captain's health. I shall also be selling the first of the Ilex goods. I will take Mister Woodington with me ashore. Mister Franklin, you will see to the stowing of the supplies and the regulation of the work crews."

"Aye, Cap'n." Eric said with a nod.

William fetched up his hat, a few papers and the bag of mixed specie. "I shall not return before noon, so you will be required to turn out the Larboard Watches ashore. Remind them to revel with care."

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Pew]

When we arrived at the Inn I stepped to the front of the group. I pulled my sidearm and pounded loudly on the door with the butt. A small boy answered and he peered at our group. His eyes widened when he saw Bill and Luc standing at the rear.

"Dorian Lasseter!" I demanded. The boy stood still. I pushed the door open quickly and began calling. "CAPTAIN LASSETER!"

The innkeep quickly came to the door. Claude put his open palm in the man's chest and began to explain why we were there.

"Bill, Tudor, check all th' rooms upstairs. Jean, you and Luc continue 'ere." I pointed down the hallway towards the back rooms as I described Dorian's appearance. I turned back to the innkeep who now spoke so fast that even Claude had trouble keeping up.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Tourville Grande Inn

Village of Fort Royal

Dorian had closed his eyes a moment to clear head, relax just that much longer when he heard a loud rapping from down stairs. He sat up with a start and cocked his ear to the commotion. It sounded as if the front door was opened and he heard a muffled voice, Dorian Lasseter! Jumping up, he grabbed up his new shirt and threw it on, rapidly tucking it into his slops. He was reaching for his pistol and cutlass when he heard other voices calling out Captain Lasseter! The voices were vaguely familiar, yet he still remained on guard. Cocking his pistol, he stood defiantly.

“Here away! Who calls my name so in this place!?”

He heard feet pounding up the steps and doors being yanked open. He raised his pistol and aimed it at the door, waiting for what may come through it.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin’s familiarity with Cul du Sac Royal streets was just enough to keep her from getting lost. The difficulties lie in the fact that she could not remember how to get from the location of the inn to the millinery shop that she sought without returning to the center of the town. She had walked briskly to her destination. The humidity was high and the tendrils of reddish curls that had escaped from under the brown cocked hat clung to her forehead, her cheeks flushed pink and beads of perspiration sat on her forehead. As she entered she halted, her vision impaired by the contrast of the bright sunlight outside and the shade of the shop.

Once Miss McDonough’s eyes had adjusted to the change she stepped further into the shop marveled at the contents therein. The depth of the shop was shorter than that of the building. To her right was a display of shoes and hats of every shape and color, some plain, some with plumage twice the height of the hat itself, others bordered in braided rope. Just beyond that, on the back wall was a door to the workroom of the shop. Bolts of fabric in a rainbow of colors lined the back wall out of reach of the suns rays. In the far corner stood a beautiful dress of silk in peach and sage with ruffles and ribbons all over. The wall to the left was covered with shelves and drawers. Displayed on the shelves were, shoes, hose, ribbon, thread, and accessories too numerous to mention. The counter in the middle of the floor, at a perfect height for cutting fabric sat upon a base of endless drawers.

As Murin stepped further inside, a brown hair lass in a dress of azure looked up from the hats she had been admiring and smiled at her. A robust woman in yellow stood at the cutting table arguing in French with the shop worker. There was a young lady on a step stool dusting the shelving and rearranging the shoes and hats on the far side of the room. The ladies in the shop were all dressed in their finest. Even the colleen that stood to the side of the woman in yellow was dressed in finery. Suddenly Murin felt very much out of place and her confidence wayned. The woman at the counter took note of the individual who came into the shop, breifly stopped her discussion with the lady in yellow, turned her head to the door in the back and called, "Michelle, ramassage!", then continued the animated conversation. Another woman came from the back room, with a wrapped bundel in her hands and brought it to Murin. "Ce doit être livré aussi rapidement que possible à la Chambre de l'Intendant." Miss McDonough almost took the bundle, "I ...errr, ...ah, wot?" The seamstress before her was confused. "Vous n'êtes pas ici pour effectuer la livraison à l'épouse de l'Intendant?"

"I'd like t'purchase some tings."

"Parlez-vous français ?"

"Dear wuz a woomin ere yesterday wot spoke English, is she ere today?"

The woman before Murin turned to the others in the shop, "Quand Marie a-t-il lieu à retourner?"

The others in the shop shrugged. "Reviennent cet après-midi."

"Wot? I want to purchase some tings." Murin pulled her coin pouch out of her shirt with a yank of the long draw strings. "A undergarments, shoes," She picked up a pair of shoes and replaced them "n'a hat!" standing in front of the brown haired lass she pointed to the bonnet in her hands.

The seamstress shook her head and in broken English said, "Come back af-ter noon"

Murins shoulders dropped "But... I needs t'be on board ship b'fore noon!"

[Red Cat Jenny]

The Milliner's was on the way to the shop Miss Ashcombe had intended for her days purchase. Books for the two children in her charge. Their governess was a good woman, but chose such lifeless material. Thus when she was able, Jenny would provide them with something more to grow their imagination in addition to the studies of arithmatic and grammar.

But as she passed the window revealing bolts of fabric, graceful shoes and ....hats. She couldn't help entering into the polite, softly scented world of ladies and their trappings. Jenny Ashcombe had a particular weakness for hats..something soft, feminine. It was just such a hat she now held in her hands as she looked up at the curious figure before her..was it a lad? Why would he be here in a shop for ladies things? ..he was a bit disheveled in oversize sailors clothes, face a bit ruddy and freckled from the sun. She smiled at the poor uncomfortable creature who seemed so desperate to make a purchase..

"Vous êtes un marin?" she asked softly, raising only her eyes from the delicate straw hat she was considering, with it's pale yellow ribbon and one small plume. Immediately the lads face grew more desperate and she realized her mistake.."You are a sailor? " She asked.."From one of the ships I have not seen here before in this port?" Realizing how forward her question to a strange man ..a sailor was..she lowered her eyes to the hat a moment..but pity for the lad overtook her as well as her own amusement at the ruffle his appearance had caused in the feathers of the shop. She waited for an answer, catching the moss green eyes of the stranger with the slightest bit of merriment in her own..

[Silkie McDonough]

"Y'speak English!" Murin's face lit up and the pressure from the tears she had been holding back receded. "Aye, I'm on d'Wotch Doog. I m'on duty at noon t'day, I ken nil return ere after noon! I wont's t'purchase some new clothin t'be delivered t'd'in by noon t'morra. I come ere b'cause d'work is goode n'the shop lady wot wuz ere yesterday could speak t'mae."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombes eyes widened with a sudden realization which brought flush to her cheeks. This was a lass before her! What fortune would place a lady in such ill fitting and as she dared look closer, more than well worn clothes? She now realized the subtle differences in face and stature and was quite embarassed. Silently thankful that she had made no verbal faux pas, save for the sailor query. She'd heard of women serving on ships and hoped the mistaken word would be passed over. The girl before her appeared to be about her age perhaps younger by a year. Immediately Miss Ashcombe's curiosity was renewed at a chance to speak to someone.. a woman who had been at sea. Jenny glanced around the shop noting that most of the women had returned their attention to other things. She came round the table and touched the girl on the arm. "You must be hurried then." the lass did not flinch at the contact, but instead looked rather relieved. Closer now Jenny realized the poor lass had been near tears. "Come.." she led Murin to the side.."Let me help you..I'm sure we can find all that you need so you may return to your duties on..what was the ship you just spoke of?" "De Wootch Doog" came the thickly accented reply in just a slightly more relaxed tone. She bit her bottom lip and looked the girl up and down. Meeting her eyes, anxious again at being inspected so, she laughed and the girl brightened laughing along with her. "Well then..let's find what will make the men's heads all turn...oh, I am so sorry..J'emapelle Genevieve.. um..my name is Jennifer, but you may address me as Jenny. " She waited for the fidgeting young woman before her to produce a name.

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704

The Larboard crews of the 'Dog emptied the St. Kitt in short order, so that the Captain might be ferried to shore. William ordered Treasure Tribbiani to join them at the rail for the crossing, reminding her to fetch her things for her night ashore, for noon was imminent. Treasure looked delighted at the prospect of going again so soon to shore, and she fetched up a proper pistol and a sailor's bag for the journey.

When they crossed the Cul du Sac Royal they found the docks already choked with small boat traffic from many quarters. Merchants and sailors mingled shoulder to shoulder up and down the sunlit docks. Here they found the small boy who had been continuously engaged to guard the Samson. He smiled to see Alan again and made a point to show that the jollywatt had remained unmolested during the marine's absence. William passed a fat shilling to Mister Woodington who passed it in turn to the boy.

"Ms. O'Treasaigh agreed to come again to the docks as escort, Cap'n." Alan said, looking about the shoreline.

"Very well, Mister Woodington. Seek her out."

The Larboard Marine moved off through the pressing crowds in search of the woman. The boy, lingering with his happy coin, offered his continued service with French spoken so quickly, that Wiliam had to ask him three times to 'parlez plus lentement'. Still the boy spoke at a pace beyond William's ear, and he gave the boy another six pence, just to quiet him.

"We have fed the cat, Miss Tribbiani." William said, resigned.

"Sah...?" she said, called back from her wandering thoughts as she looked about the busy docks.

"The boy. He'll never leave now."

"Aye, Sah." she said smiling. "Like cats around the 'Kate."

"Aye." William agreed, and he was forced to smile. "I'm to kind to strays."

"That you are." she nodded, knowingly. Then she quickly added. "Sah."

Five bells of the Forenoon Watch

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

"Oh, tank ya lass ...Jenny. I'm MEER-een, MEER-een McDunna." Jenny furrowed her eyebrow in question as Murin held out her hand in introduction. Murin, realising her mistake withdrew her hand and instead offered a quick curtsy to the lass. "Taylor sailmaker on d'Wootch Duog, a'aye ye, she's one uv d'tree in port, d'light frigate." Her confidence began to return along with her sense of pride at the mention of the ship she had come to know as home. "I'd bae soo greatful fer yer assistance ere. I know sewin buot I nil know where t'start fer m'self. I need i'tall, frum hose t'hat."

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

With the air growing increasingly warm, Maeve was overcome with thirst. Having made her order with the grocer, she now made her way to the community well nearby and satisfied her thirst. Just then, the church bells chimed, telling her it was now ten of the morning. "Oh", she exclaimed softly. "I'm a tad late".

She hurried off back down to the docks, walking briskly. The exertion in the morning heat and humidity made her skin flush and dewy. It wasn't long before a few soft curls of strawberry blond strands clung to her forehead and the sides of her face. The effort in the heat made her, in fact, feel a bit woozy. She slowed up a bit, hoping a smile and a sincere apology would suffice when she arrived. When she reached the docks, they seemed to have reached a fine peak of thrumming activity. She continually dodged men and boxes and the like until she finally spied the dock area where she had met Mr. Woodington. She stopped, lifting up on her tiptoes and shielded her eyes to look for him. Suddenly, there he was, turning just then to look in her direction. "Mr. Woodington!", she called, waving her hand in the air. She was about to apologize for being late, but it appeared that Mr. Woodington and his crew mates had but just arrived.

[Pew]

As the doors were being flung open, Dorian Lasseter's name echoed throughout the inn.

As Bill and Tudor approached, there was a brief knock, and then "Dorian Lasseter!?!" The door swung open and Bill Flint filled the doorway suddenly. Only with Flint's size did the Captain of the Heron immediately recognize him. He nearly sent a shot right into the Marines chest. He dropped his weapon and sighed heavily.

"And I was aimin' fer y' 'ead," Dorian laughed.

"MISTER PEW, HE'S HERE" yelled Bill down the hallway. Tudor swung back the door and quickly went to his side.

Claude and I ran up the narrow staircase with Luc and Jean close behind.

We peered into the small room and saw the Captain sitting in a chair with a small plate next to him. His weapon in his lap, he smiled.

"Shot, eh?" I snickered.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny wrinkled her nose and chuckled at the girl's awkwardness. "Well let us start with the necessities Murin" Jenny led the girl under the incredulous stares on some of the patrons, about the shop calling for the attendant. "Michelle l'aide, si'l Vous plait.." The attendant appeared once more at the doorway and taking in the sight of the two women, wore an expression of confusion. She walked towards Miss Ashcombe who had been a good patron these five years.

Jenny felt Murin stiffen beside her at the unfamilir use of French, unsure of what was to come. She supposed the lass knew only Irish, English and perhaps the odd bit of laguage gathered in her travels. Almost lost in the latter part of that thought, Jenny turned and gave Murin a warm smile, resolving to ask some of the many questions now flooding her mind."Michele shall assist us in fitting you properly "Miss. McDonough..have you..any idea of your measurements? Height and such?" The anxious look returned

[Dorian Lasseter]

His room now full of crewmates and the Master-at-Arms as well, Dorian felt his guard lower.

“Shot, eh?”

Questioned Mister PEW with a snicker. Dorian’s brow wrinkled.

“Shot? Me? Nay Lad… twas I who did th’ shootin’… Who done told ye I were shot? Ah, no matter… I’s recovered enough from m’ wounds ta continue on…”

He stood easily now, set the arms on the table top and looked past the crowd in the room to where his waistcoat and hat lay on the bed.

“Someone mind handin’ o’er me weskit n’ hat… I feel underdressed at th’ moment…”

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - At the docks

Alan approached Maeve in several quick strides. "My apologies, Ms. O'Treasaigh. The crossing required more time than first expected."

She was not surprised by this nor troubled, for she was absent from the small shop often enough on errands required by her chosen profession that time was seldom so important, and she said as much to Alan. She reassured him that she had been no more prompt than he had been. He offered his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, careful to shoulder his musket to the opposite arm. Then he lead her back through the throng to where the Captain and Miss Tribbiani waited.

Treasure was practicing some phrases of French with the befriended stray boy. The young man had finally slowed down enough in speech to echo each word she attempted back to her, so that she might hear the sound of it. He was forever dipping his hand in his own pocket as they spoke to reassure himself of the recent coins he had been given. Between the tips of service given him by Mister Flint, Alan, and the Captain, he had more to spend in his pocket than he usually saw in all the summer months.

William was looking Westward and South at the bay's entrance, leaning a little on his tall cane as he did so, or more to the point, allowing the cane to lean on him. His eyes were narrowed against the glare off the sea and Maeve couldn't decide if he looked older or younger than she had expected. He turned to them as they approached.

"Cap'n. May I introduce Maeve O'Treasaigh?"

"You may." He said with the comfortable smile of a man used to meeting all sorts of people. Then he swept his hat off in a way that belied his understanding of that art, for the removal of one's hat can express so many things, and this time he had chosen to give the smallest of pauses as he went, so that it came off as a kind of casual bow, tinted with a deliberateness that made the gesture flattering. "Charmed...and grateful."

[Pew]

Claude handed the underdressed Quaretermaster, turned Ship Captain his clothing and gear.

I shook my head and mumbled "shot" under my breath and looked at Bill Flint. He shrugged slightly.

"When yer ready Cap'n, we'll be outside." I stated to Captain Lasseter. He nodded and continued to collect his belongings.

The rest of the crew, both new and old, headed to the entrance of the inn. My headache had returned as we stood in the bright sunlight.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian took little time to dress himself properly, now that he had room to do so. He gathered up all he needed and gingerly put his hat on, wondering if he should go and visit the doctor. It then occurred to him he had no idea where her place of business was. Maybe the desk clerk might know. Out and down the stairs he went, stopping at the front to pay his bill and inquire about Doctor O’Treasaigh. The clerk took payment and gave rough directions to the Office of the Woman Surgeon with a smile on his face. Thanking the man Dorian bid him a good day and stepped out into the sunlight of the late morning, much to the pain of his eyes. Blinking several times, his vision adjusted and he saw Mister PEW with a similar look on his face. Doubting that a head wound had been dealt him, he could only guess it was from an interesting night before.

“Mister Pew…. I have an excuse ta look so poorly… what’s yers, eh?”

Claude stifled a laugh, turned cough and Bill smiled slightly, whereas Miss Smith grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

[Silkie McDonough]

"Miss. McDonough..have you..any idea of your measurements? Height and such?"

Murins look went blank, she 's a tailor for saint's sake! Surely she should know her own measurements "I'ave nil needed dem till now." she shrugged. The utter absurdity of her situation finally dawned on the girl and she began to laugh. "I could pr'vide a measure but I ave no idea wot my own measurements are." Miss Ashcombe's light laughter mingled with Miss McDonough's for a moment then the women continued on with the task at hand.

As Michelle took her measurements in the back room Miss McDonough felt rather like a marionette and suddenly had a little more sympathy for the Marines she had recently measured. She willingly answered Jenny's questions about the Watch Dog and her crew as they discussed what Murin would need. Soon the choices were made and a price agreed upon. The lass paid it easily with what was in her pouch.

When Miss Ashcombe asked where to have it delivered Murin again was without an answer. She had initially thought to stay in the same place as last night but after the situation with the bed bugs she had no intentions of returning there. She asked Jenny if she could recommend an inn. Miss Ashcombe exclaimed that she knew of a place that was well kept and gave the name to Michelle. She turned to Murin, "We shall go there presently and reserve a room for tomorrow." and led the way into the sunlit street.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Upon making his genteel introduction, Maeve gave a small curtsy and inclination of her head toward Captain Brand. His comfortable smile and demeanor disarmed her. However, she took almost immediate note of the wall of command this man hid behind an amiable and courteous manner. Now that the captain was looking directly at her, addressing her, she found that she still had difficulty determining his age, despite the white hair at the temples of his golden red hair. Steely blue eyes regarded her, and Maeve suddenly found this man a bit unsettling.

"Captain. 'Twas nuthin' really, what I did fer Mr. Lasseter. It's just what I do. He shud heal up nicely I think. If you and yer men are ready, I should be happy ta lead ya to where he's stayin' ".