The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - St. Louis

William and John McGinty made their way through the bright streets of many a merchant row searching out the proper place to sell the Ilex goods. The Captain and Marine passed more than one tempting shop, and more than one more tempting tavern. They passed milliners, tanners, coopers, cobblers, liveries, blacksmiths, bakeries and even a spice shop. William made special note of the spice shop for later.

The degree of wealth and prosperity increase by neighborhood and architecture until they stood before a jeweler's shop. It sat half in sun, half in shadow, nestled comfortable under the bows of a very large tree. The sign was lavishly embellished with a carved border of intertwined links, which glinted brightly enough that they might have been gilded. The image in the center showed a wise, thoughtful looking man caught up in the craft of fashioning a crown set with jewels. They entered into the cool but amply lit workroom at the front of the shop.

"Bonjour, Messieurs." said a large man who sat in a large, comfortable chair immediately to the left of the door. He was a large man, who had an imposing stature even while seated. He did not smile exactly, thought his face made a kind of formal attempt, and William guessed by the pistol in his belt and the too obvious blunderbuss across his knee, that this man was not the jeweler. More than likely he was a paid man in the employ of the shop to keep 'light fingers' from being tempted.

William nodded and returned a genuine smile, for it pleased him that the place was all business and propriety. Such a shop carried promise of clean and precise affairs that would make this easier for him.

"Bonjour, Messieurs." came a second, more feminine greeting from the curtain which separated the front of the shop from the living and working spaces beyond. William returned her greeting as well and with a smile more genuine than he had given to the seated man, for here was a woman of surpassing beauty. She was young, perhaps some ten years younger than William. She was dressed in a dress the color of butter cream and her neck was adorned by the trappings of the trade.

"Bon après-midi, Mlle." William said, calling upon his gift with bows and hats for the second time that day. "Vous me pardonnerez, mais parlez anglais ?"

"Yes. I am able to speak anglais." she returned, her face pleasant, but otherwise unreadable.

"Excellent." William said, smiling. "Mister McGinty, you may wait outside."

"Aye, Sah." McGinty returned, snapping off a salute, and William was pleased for the additional formality, for it painted him in a light which belied a higher station. The marine strode out into the sun and William made a formal introduction of himself and his purpose. "I am William Brand, Captain of the frigate Watch Dog, traveling under the grace and marque of his Excellency, Gouverneur Louis-Claude Garavaque."

She curtsied and William took the occasion to bow a second time, careful to pause between his decent and ascent. "My name is Adélaïde Molyneux, daughter to Monsieur Thibault Molyneaux, the owner and your host."

"I may linger here awhile yet." William thought.

~Starboard Watches on duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

After an hour in the Tailor’s shop, and a fair amount of coin spent, Captain Lasseter walked out of the shop wearing a French Blue Captain’s Coat with gold embroidery, and would collect a full tailored suit later in the week. The Tailor would also have hats available upon his return that would match the suit as well as new shoes. He had even suggested a court sword to go with the ensemble, but Dorian had declined, if anything he might wear his rapier with it if he wanted a lighter sword. He had a new red plume added to his hat as well, the old one being so bedraggled most times it hadn’t been noticed. Now he was dressed more like a captain, and had removed the bandage and poultice from his head and had cleaned the wound so it just looked angry now. As he made his way down the street, he was greeted by others around him, whereas yesterday he had been mostly ignored. It felt good. In short time he had arrived at the store suggested by the Tailor to purchase his selection of Wine and Spirits. Stopping in the street he looked the storefront over before stepping inside out of the heat of the day.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Genevieve stood near the wharf and couldn't help feeling the slightest bit of longing, perhaps envy as Murin stepped into the boat which would carry her back to her world amongst men of the sea... Women as well, travelling under the flag of freedom as long as there was open ocean.

Feeling the hour had gotten later than she intended, she turned and walked briskly into the crowded street. After making purchase at the booksellers, Genevieve headed past the ladies haberdashery, the bakers, the milliners and around the lane to where Chataigne was tied, hoping to return to the main house before her uncle.

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - Aboard the frigate Watch Dog

Between two and three bells of the Afternoon Watch

The unloading and distribution of supplies continued even after noon had come and gone. It was after one of the afternoon and still supplies were being brought down into holds and armories by the returned Larboard Watches and the departing Starboard sailors. During this time, Eric relented the holy ground, giving the quarterdeck over to Maurice Roche, and the last of the Starboard crews went into the shore bound boats.

Maurice stood a long while with his hands behind his back and the grin of a man given a new command, no matter how temporary. He smiled the grin of the impish school boy, entertaining ridiculous thoughts of high mutiny and Jamaican towns. The idea was laughable and he knew it, for the rewards of loyalty had been too obvious of late. Still, he laughed to himself from time to time, especially when he looked down at his own threadbare clothing.

'Captain Roche, Unshaven Scourge of the Caribbean!' he thought, chuckling. Then, as quickly as these thoughts had come, they were gone, and Maurice Roche became officer of the deck. "You there! Mind the gallows and spars!"

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter was not the only customer in the shop as he perused the front room stock. The owner was helping another when he came in and after a long and what appeared to be painful conversation with a rather large, rich woman. Once he bid her good day for the fifth time, he patted his brow with a handkerchief, and approached the Captain.

“Bonjour, Monsieur… Comment est-ce que je peux être utile ?”

“Montrez-moi vos actions de merlot svp... Et puis spiritueux...”

He replied. The shopkeep looked him up and down with a gentle smile, then swept his arm to the side.

“De cette façon si vous svp, Monsieur…”

Dorian bowed to the man and headed in the direction indicated. Over the next hour and a half and some minor interpretation issues Dorian had purchased a fine selection of Spirits, enough to fill his cabinet and more. He even selected three bottles to send to William, just because. After the purchase was finalized and paid for, he stepped out into the street and shaded his eyes from the bright rays. Once his eyes had adjusted and the pain in his head subsided he walked slowly down the street smiling to himself. He made several stops in other shops, seeing many of the men from the Larboard Watches here and there along his way. Finally, the need to fill his stomache overcame his desire to continue to make purchases, so he made his way into one of the various taverns. Removing his hat as he entered due to the low ceiling was not quite enough, he still needed to stoop some to keep from hitting his already fragile head on the low beams. Finding a good spot, he sat and called over a maid, and placed an order.

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - St. Louis

William set out items before Ms. Molyneux for the space of half an hour. She inspected each item with the dispassion of a practiced appraiser, noting the unique differences in each piece. William had chosen every item for this particular collection for the quality of the craftsmanship as much as the value of the metals and stones. The other two bags, containing rings, bracelets, stones and other specie from the Ilex Fortune, were of a much poorer make than these, and William would sell them later among the cheap shops and street buyers.

"A quality piece." Ms. Molyneux said aloud, for the tenth time since beginning their exchange, and she stopped to make several notations on the value of the ring held in her hand.

While she was employed in these notations, her father, Monsieur Thibault Molyneaux, entered the shop room and introductions were made. Monsieur Molyneaux was a polite gentleman of at least fifty years. He was bald, but his fashionable wig did not make this apparently obvious. He had an unusually straight nose with hard, almost right angles to it. It was a chiseled thing which offset the rest of his face, and his mouth seemed out of place underneath it, being an altogether average mouth. Still, he was pleasant and he warmed to William at once, especially when he laid eyes on the large number of precious items lined up on the table.

Ms. Molyneaux excused herself from the table and her father stepped in as owner and appraiser. He confirmed his daughters calculations with only a cursory glance, moving to the next items in short order. Like his daughter, his appraisal of each item was fair and to the point. He assigned an average value to every item, that was neither too little nor too much. William had hoped for this, without fully expecting it. It meant that bartering and haggling on the final price would be easier. Perhaps not generous, but easier.

It was a long wait, with William siting silent much of the time. He didn't mind the waiting and watching, for Adélaïde was often in the room offering delicate dishes and drink throughout the passing afternoon. She was even so kind as to take drink to John McGinty who waited out of doors. William's only true interaction with the shop owner came in the form of two 'exceptions' to the business at hand, for he spied some items he thought might be put to better use elsewhere, and borrowed them back again. The owner did not seem to mind this, simply moving to the next item at hand.

William pocketed one of these items, but left the other on the table.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Black Syren]

They strolled for nigh onto an hour, her laughter ringing out freely as Jacques tried to explain what they were seeing and she assumed give the rich history of the cul de sac Port Royal. But of course they ended up laughing more than any serious explaining, though she did catch a few phrases and could somewhat glean some of his meaning through his hand gestures. Her arm was linked through his and her keen gaze was bright with curiosity as it went this way and that.

The City was colorful and exotic, the people seeming warm and friendly and as they walked they made for the small catholic church and she tugged upon Jacques and pointed to the church. He nodded his assent and they strolled down the block her gaze glued upon the small church. It was tiny and white, a small cemetery lay to it’s left and a white picket fence and a multitude of colorful flowers surrounded it. As they entered the quiet interior she sought the small fountain filled with holy water made the sign of the cross and moved up the aisle. Reaching the front pew she genuflected and knelt upon the riser provided and quickly said her prayers, Jacques kneeling at her side. She could feel his curiosity but would not leave him with the information he sought, it was too near to her heart and personal.

Her prayers included the whole of the WatchDog, All of the crew those of the Heron and the ship itself as well. Then she rose moved to a nearby altar and lit a candle and again knelt in prayer for her beloved brother. Jacques stayed where he was merely watching her and taking in her profile. A Father soon entered and catching sight of them smiled warmly and moved to aid Treasure as she rose. She smiled sweetly and thanked him profusely causing the Father to blush and merely nod his head. “Do you speak English?” She asked her husky tones filling the small church. The father smiled and nodded “Of course my child, as well as French, Latin, Italian and some Spanish. What do you need my child?”

“A prayer Father for my soul. It is in great need of guidance.” He nodded his head and asked her to kneel again and once she was settled he made the sign of the cross and said a brief prayer, made the cross upon her forehead and bid her rise. “Thank you Father, you have made my soul lighter.” She reached into the small reticule the Lady had sent with her gowns and gifted him with a small offering causing his eyes to round and for him to protest. “Nonsense Father, it is for your aid. I hope to attend mass soon.” With a last smile she bid him adieu and saw the grin that spread across Jacques face before they once more moved outside. Inhaling deeply they set off again continuing to explore and as they walked she noticed a rather large pup tied to a post outside a store. It was quivering with fright, tail tucked between his legs, his ribs poking through a coat that was dull.

Outrage surged through her at the treatment of the pup and she pulled her gaze from it and continued to move at Jacques side. He speaking again rapidly, his words low as if to take her mind from the small pup, or to soothe her rapidly rising temper. It took much to anger her, but mistreatment of any kind was a sure way to spike it quickly. As they moved past the pup she could hear it whimpering and it tugged at her, she glanced back over her shoulder and noted it was a Blue Merle, a great dane. With a resigned sigh she retraced her steps till she knelt before the pup, slowly holding her hand out for him to catch her scent. “Poor Lad. Hungry are you? The pup wagged his tail slightly and she smiled softly a small hand moving to scratch behind his ears and noticed his flinching. Pausing she crooned then laid her hand gently atop his head and scratched him. As he licked at her face she knew she had made a friend. Jacques urgently pulled her to her feet and she noticed a portly gent with a flushed face angrily hurrying over. Shoving past her he untied the pup and yanked upon him and Treasure moved forwards to say something and Jacques quickly tugged her back.

Furious she twisted free of Jacques and blue green eyes blazing swept back the way they had come Jacques following after her assuring her safety. He had taken note of her beauty dressed in rags, but dressed as she was now, she was a jewl and she had garnered much intrest. No simple seaman was she, he would stake his life upon it. She moved like a Lady, a Lady with a shadowed past. Though he was young he knew what such a past led one to, knew there was more to her than many would ever know. He did wonder how she fit upon a ship full of men, did she sail it or earn her keep in other ways. He decided to hurry and catch up to her even though he knew she was angry at him for stopping her. This one had a heart, even if it had gone out to an abused animal, what else did she hide.

As Treasure passed by the dress shop she had frequented before she stepped in and noticed the hush that fell as she entered. A soft noise from the rear of the shop had her turning to see a bolt of fabrics had fallen to the floor. Glancing about she wondered why it had grown quiet and smiled warmly at the lady who returned the smile and hurried over. “Magnifique!” she exclaimed as she studied the way her gown hugged the ripe curves and highlighted the golden skin and dark hair. “You are most bewitching, I knew from your eyes you were no lad.” She whispered causing Treasure to blush. “Thank you, You have gone beyond what I expected. Do you remember what you saw me first in? Think you can make more garments such as those?” The lady frowned and nodded slowy, “No more gowns?” Treasure shook her head “Nay I need clothes such as those. I will pay you in full, make them simple and sturdy.” Again price was agreed upon and she left taking note of Jacques waiting beyond. As they passed a small tavern Jacques gestured for them to go within for drinks and she nodded moving within. As the darkness receded she again took note of the small room filled with patrons and was about to take a seat when she noticed Dorian alone and hesitated. She felt foolish in a gown before her shipmates so she hoped he would not notice her. Indeed her other shipmates she had stumbled across had not recognized her. Taking a seat she allowed Jacques to order as he spoke French and let her eyes rove the tavern. Her musings now upon her new garments for shipboard, and she could not seem to get the pup from her mind.

[Pew]

July 29, 1704 -Eric Franklin, ashore at Martinique

Eric Franklin met Mister Pew at the docks. Preston had decided to stay ashore awhile as he owed Mister Franklin a few tankards for his troubles. Little did Preston know that Eric had taken on the daunting task of inventoring the complete arms from the Maastricht, Heron, and those left aboard the Watch Dog. The Captain wanted the Heron to be a floating armoury and Eric saw to it so. The Heron had now been fully outfitted and Eric felt more than a tankard was due.

"Nice trip ashore Preston?" Eric asked as the small craft bumped into the wharf.

"Aye. 'nteresting Mister Franklin, 't was." Preston answered. He extended his hand and helped the sergeant-at-arms from the boat. "Met a few gents 'twould be good for the Dog, or Heron..." Preston corrected himself. "A few good ales and some introductions, perhaps?"

Eric nodded. He had finished the last bottle he and Preston kept tucked away the night prior.

"A good ordinary and a few tankards 'ould do just fine Preston." Eric smiled. "We 'ave some business also," the sergeant-at-arms continued, " I completed outfitting the Heron with..."

Preston stopped and put his hand up, "All in good time Mister Franklin, all in good time."

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - St. Louis at Martinique

The Ship's Carpenter and Blacksmith walked the sunlit, afternoon streets of St. Louis. They did this as much out of habit as cause, enjoying the company of one another and the safety and security of traveling with a familiar in strange parts. They found themselves looking in and then stepping in to every single shop that they passed.

Rummy spent money freely, buying herself trinkets, baubles and food as they went. She was carefree in the way she handed over the shares she had won in war and service. She understood Maastricht's worth well enough to know that her present frivolity in coin would be rapidly repaid again and in larger sums. She had waited a long time to feel this freedom and she would not allow any prudence to interrupt her leave ashore.

Jonathan's mood was another matter. He spent almost nothing as they ventured from shop to shop. It wasn't that he didn't feel a desire to spend the money, having as much as he did, but he just abstained. He picked up many items along the way, fully expecting to buy them, but even as each opportunity arose, he would depart the shop without the desired goods. Rummy tried many times to get him to indulge, but he was thinking of other matters.

"Why the careful purse...?" Rummy asked him when they had exited the nine or tenth shop of the afternoon.

"I may retire from the 'Dog." he said in a most matter-of-fact tone, which was common to him.

"Retire...? And quit the life?" she said surprised, raising an eyebrow.

"Nay. Not the life." He said, shaking his head a little. "Leave the 'Dog, but remain by the fire."

"Why...?" was all that she could manage after searching through the many questions that cropped up in her mind.

"I've enough. I could buy a shop here." he said gesturing about with the sweep of his hand. "Think of it..."

She did think of it. In fact, she had already thought of it. She had thought of it often, but thinking it had made her feel guilty in some way, for she was the carpenter aboard the 'Dog and it was no small life. Still, now that she heard the idea of leaving on the lips of a fellow crew member, she thought she could talk about it aloud. And so they did. They talked about little else, for their two professions and their all too obvious camaraderie made an alliance of purpose very plausible.

It also made the idea profitable.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve sat in the chair of her tiny kitchen with her half eaten lunch all but forgotten as she stared at the small mound of coins before her. Still she wondered at her sudden stroke of fortune after such recent misfortune. There were so many ways she could think of to invest and spend this money that she was faced with a wall of indecision. She was running desperately low on some basic medical supplies, and a few of her tools were in need of sharpening or replacement altogether. The clothes she had were becoming a bit worn and faded with use and repeated washings, and her shoes were just about worn to the nail. She also needed new bed linens so that her current ones could be used upon the surgery bed, and a couple of rotting floorboards in her shop needed replacing. Maeve sighed. She longed to hold onto the money but feared that practical needs would force her to replace and repair things, rather than allowing her to spend the money on frivolous desires. Indeed, she had much more dire things to think upon for which she decided might not allow her any frivolity at all.

Sighing, Maeve finished her lunch and stood up. She resolved to buy herself only one new working skirt and blouse, and would pay to have her shoes re-soled. As for the greater majority, she would spent it on needed medical supplies and food staples to set her up for the next several months. The floor boards could wait. She decided she would be as frugal as possible and use what was left to buy herself fresh meat, vegetables, and fruits when she could. In the meantime, she would redouble her efforts to make and sell her knitted bags, vests, and other wares as well as taking on more small tailoring repair jobs. More than anything though, she hoped for more Captain Lasseters. An affable, generous patient who was willing to pay, indeed, overpay for her services. Maeve had a good heart, but she really wished to be paid more often for services she rendered too often to penniless riffraff who'd gotten into barfights and duels. A good heart was all well and good, but even a good heart dies without food to feed it. Her time spent, unpaid, at the local church ought to be enough charity she thought wryly. Perhaps news of her good work would spread from the Chandler and his son, lending her the credibility she desired.

A violent yawn took her just then. Maeve was clearly exhausted and decided that before all else, a nap was in order. Making certain she placed her "out for awhile" sign in the store-front window, she bolted the door and headed upstairs.

[Pew]

July 29, 1704 - Wharf at Martinique

Introductions were made among the three men and an agreement to discuss business over ales was agreed upon.

Jean offered an apology and decided to join us later, as he had business to finish near the wharf. Luc had his belongings in his bag and kept on with Eric and I. We decide on a small dark tavern near the center of town as we had several purchases to make and stumbling to the different stores would be easier on our feet.

The tavern was fairly quiet for the time of day as the sun had reached it's apex and was on it's way down. A few older men stood by the window of the "Le Porc smoking tobacco out of long stemmed pipes and watching the streets activities pass them by. They smiled and waved a brief hello as we asked the tender for a bottle of his finest spirits. He looked confused and Luc was able to translate roughly. A smile and nod was met with a full bottle of madeira. Eric looked at me as I purposely waited to see if he were to remember the several rounds that were owed him.

"Well?" he asked.

"Aye?" I cocked my eyebrow as if he were to finish.

"'Tis your turn Preston."

"Turn for what?" I prodded.

"Yer an arse," he mumbled and reached for his coin. I already had laid upon the bar several coins for the man's troubles. Eric saw the payment and shook his head. "You truly are an arse." I slapped him on the back and went back to our table. Luc had leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out.

"Tell us about yourself Luc," Eric began. He poured the man a tall drink from the bottle and placed it on the table.

The Russian took a long swig from his cup and began his story. Raised on a farm near the town of Gomel, he grew up hunting and trapping with his father in the forests surrounding their home. Luc spent his summers fishing along the reed lined banks of the river Sozh. After harvest, he spent the late seasons hunting through the forests, full of deep lakes and boggy swamps that spread for hundreds of kilometers. Countless flocks of birds and a great variety of wild animals inhabited the dense woods. As a young man, Luc began to create his own traps. He boasted that he was able to catch several boar alive. Growing older he found that it was harder for him to make a living hunting and trapping and eventually began work as an apprentice blacksmith. Luc was not fond of his apprenticeship with the town's smithy who worked him hard and became biligerent quite often beating Luc.

Eric and I were truly caught up in his story. With nearly a full bottle gone, I jumped up to get another.

After several years of enduring this servitude, Luc found himself impressed into the town's militia.

"I did noot mind. I vanted to vite. I vas tired of da oold man vit beating me und scolding me." Luc clenched his fists and slowly released them. My eyes widened looking at the size of his hands.

"I vas able to vite vit Peter against da Svedes in da Northern Voor, during da Cossack insurrections oof Bogdan Hmelnitsky." Luc became very excitable. He went to tell us many of the stories during the skirmishes with the Northern armies. Standing more than once, acting as if he held a musket, he took aim and found his mark many times.

"Can ye do tha' aboard ship mate?" Eric asked. Luc smiled as if to say of course.

"A smithy eh?" I asked.

"Da. Boot I spent me time as a barrel maker oofter the var." Luc took another long swig from his tankard. "I foond myself in Danzig vithoot verk. I verked oot the docks vor several years as oo cooper."

"A cooper." Eric nodded and looked at me. I raised an eyebrow and put my hand to my chin.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter sat and enjoyed his meal quietly among the patrons of the tavern. He occasionally let his eyes wander around the room, seeing only one recognizable person from the WatchDog or Heron. He barely recognized her as she was dressed in quite feminine attire. Miss Tribiani sat at a table with a young man half way across the room. He actually looked past her twice before it dawned on him why she looked familiar. She looked to be enjoying herself, so he felt no reason to join their company. Plus, he did not wish to make her nervous, as the appearance of an officer had wont to do to some crewmates. So, he finished his plate, drank his pint dry and left a small coin on the table before standing carefully and making his way out into the declining day. Again he walked the main thoroughfare stopping in many shops, making an occasional purchase. His biggest purchase was one he planned this morning, had he not been accosted the night before, and his mind had not yet fully gotten straightened out. He found a shop that the Chandler on Market had recommended. The shops one thing it had for sale he had wanted to make sure he got the best. It seemed almost trivial, but was one of grave necessity. The sign over the door read very plainly, “ Renee’s Bougies” with a single lit taper beside the words. He nodded slowly as he had at other store fronts before entering. Inside the smell of beeswax was fragrant mixed with some perfumes. He breathed it all in and was just breathing out slowly when a small frail looking man filled the doorway. He looked at Dorian and said not a word. His eyes were piercing as he took in the captain from head to toe. When he spoke, his voice was strong.

“Capitaine Lasseter, Bienvenue... Je m'étais demandé quand vous honoreriez mon magasin... J'ai entendu tous au sujet de votre attaque, et fais des excuses pour les brutes de ce port.”

Dorian stood a moment before he could respond, he wondered if the tale might have spread as such was wont.

“Merci Monsieur Renee... J'apprécie votre franchise...”

He hesitated again, then removed his hat.

“Mes excuses... Parlez-vous anglais ?”

“But of course Capitaine…”

Dorian smiled and bowed his head.

“Thank you Monsieur… tis most appreciated.”

“Think nothing of it, Capitaine… I was informed you were given my name in order to purchase, ah, candles, for your ship?”

Dorian’s eyebrows went up a moment.

“Aye… That is my intent… For two ships as a point of fact… Plain candles for ships’ lanterns… I may buy out all you ‘ave in stock.”

The only reaction from Monsieur Renee was that he blinked twice.

“Very well Capitaine… Allow me to show you my stock of such.”

He turned and held open the door to the back of his shop. Dorian bowed his head once and slowly walked through the door into the rear of the building.

[William Brand]

Teeke Ranst and Drewes Viervant shared a combined understanding of French that was so small that it only equaled some nine or ten words, none of which were more useful for anything than for greetings, partings or insulting a man about his wife. Still, they both had a little coin and the promise that their good looks would get them in the door of a brothel or two. They were not disappointed, for coin and a knowing look or two did buy them into one or more beds that afternoon and evening. Languages, known or unknown made little difference once they had achieved their goals.

Teeke found a plump brunette who seemed all the more pleased to have a man who found her conversation enticing despite his inability to comprehend it. They enjoyed one another's company enough that they broke a chair and Teeke was left with a small scrape of a cut that Drewes ribbed him about later.

Drewes was similarly lucky, for he found a woman who didn't mind his clumsiness and inexperience. She had enough for them both and Drewes left that place with an appreciation for the finer sins.

They rounded out the day with drink and no small share of obscene anecdotes.

[Red Cat Jenny]

As she neared the gates of Isle De Generosite, Genevieve was brought back to reality from the world swimming within her thoughts, to the world she currently occupied. As she handed Chataigne to the groom, she retied her bonnet and hurried in through the servant's back stairs. Taking the oft used route to make her way upstairs lest her uncle be home early. Her life had gone from one of modest european means at a young age, and taken her across the ocean to a new and hard won existence in the colonies.. a life shy of the luxuries found in older nations.

Some years later, she crossed the ocean again to a life of priveledge here in Martinique. However, most priveleges came at a cost and her current station bore no exception to this rule..

[Dorian Lasseter]

The rear of the shop was cooler than the front room as Captain Lasseter walked with Monsieur Renee, the Frenchman pointing out the different lengths and widths of candles he had in stock. Dorian stopped and handled several types before settling on what he considered a well rounded size. Monsieur Renee nodded as he took up the card on the stockbin and asked how many the captain wished to purchase.

“How many do you have in stock, Monsieur?”

“Of this type… let me see… I believe five hundred pair…”

Dorian’s brows knitted a moment, he had not expected so many. Yes, the shop and its owner did not look to be struggling, but the excess stock seemed great. Renee picked up on this.

“Capitaine… My stock is great for some of these types of candles. Had you chosen these I would have had to turn you away. This is all I have.”

The crate held ten pair of candles. Dorian nodded with a smile.

“Would relieve you of two hundred pair of these then… To be delivered to the Watch Dog and Heron One hundred twenty five and seventy five respectively…”

“Merci Capitaine…”

They headed back to the front of the store to make the final arrangements. An assistant whom Renee had spoken to as they walked followed later with the crates full of candles. As they spoke of things, Dorian decided to ask about some of the very fine tapers they had looked at, and again they headed to the back area. Dorian selected ten pair, five each for Captain Brand and himself. They were said to provide the best illumination for night entertainment or work. As they headed back to the storefront, the front door was just closing. Dorian did not see whom exited, just a flutter of a skirt or cloak. Turning back to the business at hand, he added the candles wrapped in parchment to each crate, paid for all, plus for delivery and happily bid Monsieur Renee a pleasant day. He exited the shop and again headed down the main street, stopping in many a shop, but coming out empty handed. After a time he felt he was due to return to the Heron. Making his way to the wharf he found some of the Ships boats still tied up. Harold Press and Robert Jameson were idling on the wharf where the Heron’s boat was tied. Harold took a double take at the Captain and elbowed Jameson in the ribs. They both stood and saluted crisply, and Dorian bowed his head to them.

“Evenin’ lads… might ye take me back to the Heron?”

“Aye Captain!”

Both nearly yelled in unison before readying the small boat. He climbed in, depositing his small packages in the sternsheets before sitting. The journey across the water was a pleasant one. Maurice Roche stood on the deck and welcomed the Captain aboard, asked after his health and gave a full report of the activities while he had been ashore. All packages had arrived in his absence, the last being a crate of candles.

“Excellent Mister Roche…. I shall be in my cabin until further notice… If nothing if import, I shall sleep the night.”

“Aye Capitaine.”

With a salute and a nod they parted, captain to his quarters, Officer of the deck to his duties. Dorian headed aft, just as some fat drops of rain splattered on the deck. Looking up he saw the clouds rolling in quickly. Maurice had already begun to have the ship battened down as the rain grew heavier. Dorian headed below and began to shut the hatches in the wardroom. He left the aft windows open just enough to let in some air. Removing his hat and new coat he hung them on a wall hook, smiling at the new clothing. He lit the lantern and hung it on the overhead, noticing several crates in a corner. They were the candles and the stock of spirits. Removing a bottle of merlot, he walked to the table and found the implement to open it, let it breathe a moment before pouring it into a glass. The rain fell harder as he took the first taste. It was superb… He smiled and decided to take the small bundle of the better candles out of the crate and put them in the cabinet.

Three Bells of the Second Dog Watch,

29 July, 1704

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - St. Louis

Four bells of the Second Dog Watch

The evening wore on at the shop under the tree, and with night quickly approaching, William's thoughts began to drift. He was more than once distracted by the entrance and departure of Adélaïde Molyneaux, who carried with her a grace and perfume that fed his imagination in ways that would have offended Monsieur Molyneaux. She bore herself with a practiced, but altogether natural poise, which reminded William of younger times and distant locations. It was as sweet a distraction as it was distasteful. William was reminded of his waking mood and it served as a bitter reminder.

Thibault Molyneaux interrupted these many wanderings of thought by sliding a piece of paper across the desk. William plucked it up and scanned the figures for a moment or two. Then he took up a quill and dipped it, scratching an alternative sum before passing the paper back to the Jeweler. Monsieur Molyneaux contemplated the new amount with the art of a card player, all stoney and business. He too scratched a new sum and sent it back again.

Now William had grown up in the bazaars and market gardens of many a Middle Eastern town in his travels with The Mahdi. He had seen and participated in the dance of bartering so many times, that the art had not been forgotten. In fact, William had a knack for it, as had his teacher The Mahdi, so William crossed out the second offer and scratched a new one again.

Monsieur Thibault Molyneaux being a man of wisdom and experience, was fully aware that he had not yet come to the agreeable price. Martinique was brimming with the wealth of the Sugar Trade, and the noblemen of the island, if noble they could be called, were willing to pay more money for merchandise, for they could afford almost anything of value and Martinique was isolated in the world theater. The goods which Captain Brand had brought to him would fetch a price on the island that was far above any they would demand on the mainlands. Items of quality were rare enough here in the new world, but on Martinique they were rarer still, and Monsieur Molyneaux could see that William was no fool of economies.

"Here is a Captain appraised of exchanges." the Jeweler thought, and he penned what he hoped would be a final figure.

William took up the paper and scanned the final offer. Then he went down the page, item by item until he was satisfied that the agreement was as fair as it was thorough. He smiled then a little, his only true tell, and he passed the paper back with a nod. Monsieur Molyneaux laid out fresh paper and quickly catalogued the inventory. He drew up a contract of payment, lending but a small amount out in coin, for the hour was late. William had expected this, and he called for John McGinty to witness the signing of the contract in the amount of 20,400 livres.

If William's small smile had been a tell, then McGinty's was an absolute cannon blast. He looked startled by the numbers on the contract as he watched Monsieur Molyneaux and then William sign the papers which guaranteed the 'Dog the total sum in parts. He was grinning like a fool all the while and trying and failing to figure out his own share in his racing mind. He stooped so much to look that William paused, fixing John with a look that said, 'Do you mind?', for the marine was shadowing him in an almost embarrassing fashion. John straightened again at once.

Adélaïde Molyneaux, who stood across from John, standing for a witness to her father, showed no emotion whatsoever. She was her father's daughter in every way.

Then, with the paperwork signed, some coin exchanged and their business concluded, Monsieur Molyneaux filled two large glasses with but a third of amber liquid which was as sharp and delicious to William as the figures in the tucked parchment. They drank a toast to one another and their futures. Monsieur Molyneaux invited the two men to stay to supper, but William politely declined, wishing to escape his own imaginings on the jeweler's daughter. Dinner would be a poisonous event of sorts and William was craving music and night air.

. . .

They left the shop for the warm darkening air of Martinique. They were but a few minutes under the dimming sky when John McGinty interrupted the silence. "Sah...might I ask a question...?"

Sensing the nature of the question, William said, "Roughly fifteen-hundred pounds, Mister McGinty."

John whistled. He couldn't help himself. "May I ask another que...?"

"An approximate share would be seven pounds, ten shillings."

John nodded this time, too delighted to even whistle. William was looking straight ahead the whole time they walked, but he smiled. Then William fished into his pocket and drew out 30 pounds sterling, passing it to the surprised marine. John thanked him many times.

"You earned the shares in battle, Mister McGinty. If you remember."

"Aye, Sah." John agreed. "Just the same, Sah..."

William nodded, for he understood. The realization of wealth is always surprising, no matter the expectations. "We see our fortunes so much clearer in coin."

"Aye, Sah."

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

A few fat drops of rain soon became a small deluge. Maeve sighed, resigned to getting soaked as she was still a good ten minute walk from home, having recently left the tailors shop. She'd acquired a new skirt and blouse from some set stock that was already made up and on hand, but would not pick them up for another two days time as alterations for her size and per her instruction had to be done.

With enough light yet to easily get home by, Maeve ducked under the awning of a small storefront and unwrapped her impulsive purchase. Guiltily, she admired once more the lovely ceramic teapot she'd fought with herself not to buy, and subsequently lost. Pretty yellow and blue flowers were painted across its delicate surface, marred only by a small chip. One had to hunt for the flaw. Apparently, it had been enough of a flaw for a lady of means to sell it to a local trinket shop. Maeve had been eying it for weeks since it had shown up at Emile's Pawn Brokerage. Still, she felt another wave of guilt for buying so selfishly. It passed quickly as she resolved to cherish the teapot all the more. It's two matching cups were nestled in the pockets of her skirt. In her pockets were also a small stash of breakfast tea and, even worse, some cocoa. She adored cocoa, and the idea of suddenly having the means to enjoy more of it on her own terms was just too much for her. She'd bartered for the price of the teapot and had really gotten quite a nice deal on it. Maeve re-wrapped her little prize and stepped back out into the rain.

By the time she reached her home, she was indeed quite damp. Maeve was a bit surprised to find a note on her door. It was now plastered w/ rain, so the ink had began to run. She plucked up the note and went inside. Carefully setting down her new treasure and emptying her pockets onto the nearest table, she brushed the rain out of her eyes and stood by the window, trying to read the note. After a moment of squinting, she decided to light a candle. Once lit, she attempted to read it again. Bent over the light she read, "Miss Tressie, please come. It is for my boy. It is his leg. I fear it is broken again. Francois is in great pain. Hurry please!". It was signed by Madeleine Laroche. Maeve gave a weary sigh wiping away more tiny rivulets that trickled down her brow from her wet hair. After a quiet moment, she packed up her medicine bag and hurriedly packed in the needed supplies. Poor, sweet little Francois. He was forever bringing her frogs and hideous insects as well-intentioned presents. She made sure to pack the laudanum as her gift to him.

[William Brand]

William and John were pressed into an establishment sooner than expected when the rain blowing in off of the Cul du Sac Royal forced them to take refuge. They didn't mind this, for both of them were soon dining in Le Saint Heureux, a comfortable inn tucked between a milliner and a wine merchant. Here they found meat, cheeses, hot soup and fresh bread, in addition to the rum which seemed to be everywhere in Martinique. John was in such good spirits that he begged the favor of paying for their meal and William allowed him the honor of the request.

When the inn became crowded with the press of wet men and women coming in from the weather, they ordered their food brought up to a private room on the second floor. The room came complete with its own fireplace and table. It was modestly furnished, but very comfortable. They were soon joined by too tired, but friendly looking women from the kitchen who brought up additional dishes. John was so taken by one of the women that he asked the proprietor if they might stay awhile and dine with them. A coin or two helped the man make up his mind for him and the proprietor allowed the kitchen maids to remain.

The women were polite, if a little taken aback by the unexpected freedom from work. They were cautious in their conversation at first, but soon found William to be less daunting than his appearance. Soon, the four of them were talking in a mix of English and French that warmed the room more than the fire and William was glad for the company.

Outside, below, and unseen by the dinner party, the woman doctor who had tended to Captain Lasseter, passed by the inn. She was already wet through and destined to wait beside a sickbed much of the night.

[Pew]

After a few tankards of ale, Eric and I both embroiled the Russian with our own tales of arriving at the Watch Dog and the trials we had been put through. After a final round, we paid the gentleman for the ales and headed into the night. A few hours had passed since Eric had first come ashore and he had yet to see the town. Now with bellies full of eat and drink, we began to wander the streets of St. Louis. While most shops were closed, Eric and I tried to make note as to where a tailor could be found, as our slops had begun to wear quite evidently. Luc showed us the various haberdashers that may help our form as well as a certain clothiers whereabouts a young French woman named Mechelle goes to great lengths to make sure of a proper fit.

A light mist had begun to just coat the signs and lamps hanging in front of the stores. The three of us laughed as old friends might even though our backgrounds and tales wer e quite different. As we arrived at the Rue d Magasin, Jean had finally caught up to us with a fine carriage in tow.

“Ahh, Mssrs Pew, Franklin, Otkupschchikov, I was ‘oping to catch you afore zee rain begun to fall,” spoke the cloaked French leftenant. “Gentlemen, please,” he waved his hand bidding us enter into the carriage.

Eric and I looked at each other and shrugged.

“Where pray tell, might we be headed?” questioned Eric.

A smile formed on Jean’s lips. “Camarades, I feel must owe you zomezing for zee food and zee drink afore. I ‘ave a way wheech I may repay you.”

“Jean, y’ dinnot need t’, we,” he quickly held his hand up and would not let me continue.

“Please, Monsieur Pew.” He continued, fairly firm in his resolve. “Eet will benefit us all.”

We opened the door and climbed inside. Luc had trouble fitting inside the frame and decided to bide his chances with the rain and rode with Jean.

As Jean led us out of town into the countryside of Martinique, the rain had decided not to follow. We ambled through the hills passing several homes with a lantern hung for weary travelers. Eric and I looked at each other again, confused but not concerned. Jean continued at a hurried pace through the villages until we reached a small gatehouse.

We could not hear the conversation between the guard and Jean. A brief exchange followed by laughter told us that we had no cause for concern.

A few more minutes passed before we had reached the main house. Stepping from the carriage quickly, we were met by Jean already preparing to open our door.

“Gentlemen, if you would be zo kind as to vollow moi.” Jean threw his cape over one shoulder and clasped his hands behind his back. I ran my hands through my short hair and breathed out. Eric seemed apprehensive, but joined in following Jean and I. Luc left his large satchel with the carriage and quickly caught up.

We were met by a man at the front door offering to take clothing or armaments we wished to offload for the moment. We each shook our heads “no”, and continued into the great hall.

The room was filled with several hundred candles and a large fire roaring opposite them. A few servants trotted around carrying various piles of bedding and blankets up the grand staircase. Each whispered a polite “Monsieur” as they passed. Our eyes followed the servants up the stairs as we were amazed at the beauty and magnificence one room could hold. Eric leaned in and whispered, “It’s not quite the size of the Ward Room. But it could do.” I snickered and Eric laughed to himself. From the back room a loud voice could be heard spouting directions to what only could be a hound caught stealing from the cook’s wares. One of the servants quickly went to the sound of the yelling.

A door slammed shut startling us, and we were soon met by a short, stocky man adorned as the man responsible for the evening’s meal.

“Jean, Tu m'as manqué mon frere’,” said the cook with outstretched arms.

“Ah oui, Tomas,” Jean returned the hug and turned to the three of us.

“Gentleman, velcome to Manoir de Aube Sucré. Master of zee house is a Monsieur Lebeaux, yet ‘e is currently ‘ome in France.” Jean turned back to his brother and introduced each of us. He explained to us that Guillaume Lebeaux owns the large sugar plantation and creates the rum that found it’s way into many of the taverns and ordinaries upon Martinique. Jean’s brother is the cook for the main house. “Tomas is also zee keeper of zee ‘ouse as Messieur Lebeaux is away.”

“Main house?” I questioned, “’ow many buildings are ‘ere?”

Tomas stopped for a moment and began counting on his fingers.

“Cinq. Ah, pardon moi, five, Messieur Pew.” The cook explained the layout of the home and the surrounding villas. He turned and called for his assistant. As the young boy approached, he bent and whispered into his ear. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat, I’ll be but a moment,” Tomas addressed us. He disappeared for a moment and Jean led us around the great hall explaining the various paintings that adorned the room. Reaching five large leather chairs around the fire, he removed his baldric and slung it over the chair back. I withdrew my pistol and laid it upon the small table as Eric removed his brace and slung it over the chair back similar to Jean. Luc had left his musket in the carriage, but placed his shell guard cutlass in it's baldric and a pistol on the small table to the right of him.

We each eased into the chairs, truly feeling comfort for the first time ashore. The young boy returned with a small platter of cognac and fresh fruit. Tomas returned and put his hand on the back of the chair closest to Eric. “Gentlemen, I am sorry we can only offer you this meager platter at this hour, but rest assured your morning meal shall be abundant.”

“Thank you Tomas, an’ Jean,” I quickly added. I stood and raised my glass, and waited until Tomas had one as well. We each made a toast in the waning firelight, to friends of new and friends of old, each time feeling the slow burn of good spirits as it made it’s way below. A refill of every glass by the servant boy quickly emptied the decanter moving among the five men. With each pass of the torch, Eric and I both took a double swig as we had in taverns and times past. The unspoken toast to the ‘Dog and those aboard remained alive.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the rain grew heavier, Dorian almost felt sorry for those on deck. He had stood his share of watches in rains of the like and worse. Several times under a bastard captain who wouldn’t even let the men get their rain gear so they would be soaked to the bone. With this thought, he stood and donned his oilskins and headed out on deck. Walking slowly he made sure to greet every man, making sure they had the protection from the weather they needed. Everyone had what they need, albeit some of the men needed better than what they had. He made a mental note that when he was next on shore, he would head back to the Chandlers and see if some extra oilskins could be had. Satisfied all was well, he looked out across the water to the Watch Dog and Maastricht respectively, noting from his vantage that all seemed quiet. If the rain stopped at a decent hour, he would send word to William if he was aboard the ‘Dog, with a full list of what had been purchased, and the repayment of borrowed coin. Heading back to the Heron’s Wardroom he shook out his oilskins and hung them to dry, took up his glass of merlot and looked out the stern windows. The winds that brought the rains had swung them on their hook so now the stern faced inland. Through the storm he stared at the Citadel known as Fort Royal and the lights of the villages around it. He thought back to the days events and that of the night before causing him to raise a hand and touch his wounded head. The gash was raised and warm to the touch. Mayhaps in the morning he would also seek out the Surgeon to have a look at it, to be sure it was healing properly. Turning his thoughts elsewhere, he returned to the small table that served as a desk in the wardroom and sat. He refreshed his glass and sipped some of the dark liquid before finding his pen and ink, procured a fresh piece of parchment and began to write out the inventory purchased for the two vessels under his care. Even though he was given the Captaincy of the Heron, he still remained the QuarterMaster of the Watch Dog, and the Heron as well. Stopping a moment with this thought, he decided that another thing he needed to discuss with William was the appointment of officers to replace or supplement the compliment of what officers they had. As he mused who might be fit for such, he was startled as something butted against his calf. He started as he looked down and near jumped out of his chair.

“Bloody spiorad!”

There, rubbing against his leg was the White and Black cat that was at the Chandlers the night before.

“How’d ye get aboard? What? Ohhhh you are a Pooka….. “

He reached down and scratched the cat’s head, causing him to purr loudly.

"Alright ya Pooka… you c’n stay…"

[William Brand]

July 29, 2704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Alder Wenge collapsed into his hammock with the smile of a man pleased with the day's labor. He had managed to complete the supporting timbers for the new Starboard quartergalley on the Watch Dog. Old and new beams had been married together so well, that a coat of paint would soon make them impossible to distinguish from one another. Soon the planking and framing would follow and the 'Dog would be just another frigate on the water, whole and complete. It was a Carpenter's sole delight to work so well, that no notice of the work should be evident when complete, but for the completion itself.

In the Ward Room, Jim Warren was enjoying the benefits of his temporary Captaincy. A bottle of wine, a plate of cheese and some hot soup from the galley sat on the table by the many tapers which burned there. He drank and read a selected volume from the stern bench library. A little rain came in at the incomplete quartergalley, but not so much. For the most part, the room was comfortable, homey, and most importantly, private.

Jim had of course been a Captain once himself, having commanded more than one nimble ship in his lifetime. The wheel of the 'Dog was just one helm in a long line of helms, and there would probably be many more, but he liked the 'Dog. She was large enough to be grand and small enough to be comfortable.

Sealegs Constance came in while Jim was still reading, and she served him coffee and scones, freshly baked. The Ship's Mess Mate poured a large cup and set it out, excepting Mister Warren's thanks with a nod, before making her way into the rain to serve hot drink to the night watches. She had never minded the rain, and after the hot galley, it was a pleasant shower of cool water. She didn't even bother with an oilskin, for her clothes were in need of a good soaking and she meant to let them drink a bit. By the time she had served all about the weatherdecks, and passed invitations for each of them to stop by the galley in turn for fare, she looked like a drowned cat. She returned to the galley and stripped down to her underclothing, laying her clothes over a chair near the cook fires. Then she girded herself in a fresh nightshirt and an apron and continued to work into the night.

Patrick Hand stood at the forecastle deck all the while, smoking a pipe in the deluge. He managed to keep it lit despite the downpour, having practiced the art of a good smoke by rain for many a year. He was utterly covered in water, but otherwise untouched by it, having some of the best oil skins to be had aboard. He prided himself on his ability to handle all kinds of weather and rain was no exception. Patrick had never been seen by any aboard to be truly wet, truly scorched or truly unprepared for anything which occurred aboard the 'Dog. He was an able Able Seaman, and no one could ever say different.

Down in the holds, Murin McDonough and Nathan Bly were sharing stories of their "lives before". Nathan was amazing Murin with the many adventures he and Bill Flint had passed through together, including their most recent plight on the water and on the shores at La Margarita. Murin was able to empathize, having been a castaway herself and at almost the same time. They laughed when laughing was called for, they nodded when mutual understandings were reached and they were serious and sober when their narration called for it. They sat by the weak and solitary lantern and talked until the candle within snuffed out in the dark.

Between three and four bells of First Watch

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Black Syren]

Time passed all too quickly in the Inn and seeing Captain Lasseter leaving she inclined her head to him. Jacques curious and asking questions around mouthfuls of meat pastries and ale. Treasure merely shook her head and he shrugged and they continued their meal, when every crumb had been sopped up with warm fresh bread they stumbled to their feet and moved outside. Again did they weave through the crowds that were slowly dissipating due to the heavy clouds of pewter that ran along the horizon. Wicked forks of Lightning and a stiff breeze heralded the arrival of a storm, but it would be hours yet.

So they walked for hours more laughing as they tried to communicate with the other, soon it became a game and their hand gestures more elaborate. The first hint of the storm came in a soft cool drizzle and she spun about in the rain before they moved to find shelter in a warm stables. Jacques motioned he would try and find something to cover them so they could continue to their lodgings and she nodded her head and shooed him off.

Moving through the stables she peered at each of the horses and crooned and spoke, and petted each head that turned her way. Suddenly did she take note of the quietness of the stables, indeed twas too quiet and before she could turn rough hands were upon her. A scream half given before fingers closed over her mouth and nose

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve hurried by inns and small shops as she moved along to Madame Laroche's. The warmth of the day was fading and she was beginning to feel uncomfortably chilled, as soaked through as she was. Hunger gnawed at her and she silently made up her mind to beg a piece of bread or something simple from Madeleine when she arrived.

The light of the day had altogether failed, but she knew her way well enough, and was able to make her way easily as this part of town was well lit. She mused how just a couple of town blocks made such a difference in social status and upkeep. Why Madeleine had chosen to use her services was both amusing and alarming. Madeleine had called on the services of Dr. Laurent Tramois before, but since Maeve's arrival with her father, had switched instead to their services. When Maeve questioned her about it, Madame Laroche's faced darkened a bit and had used words such as "pig", "greedy", and "filthy roaming hands". This last bit had especially surprised Maeve, whose eyebrows had gone up in surprise to hear such.

Maeve had just reached the doorstep of the residence when a lovely dark-haired woman rushed out and seized her forearms and gave her a hasty but affectionate kiss on both cheeks, not seeming to care at all about the rain. "Mev! Mon dieu, vous êtes imbibé!". Maeve laughed as Madeleine pulled her out of the rain and inside the modest but stately home. Madeleine snapped her fingers crisply. "Cendrillon! Rapidement! Une serviette pour sécher le docteur". A slight, blond girl of perhaps 16 showed her face, made a quick curtsy and rushed off. Madeleine turned to look at Maeve appraisingly and made a 'tsking' sound as she pinched at her small waist. "Vous êtes peau et os!", she declared and called after the maid. "Et cherchez quelque chose pour que le docteur mange!". Maeve always found the fuss that Madame Laroche created a bit much to take, but she endured it with good nature. At least she had been spared the trouble of "begging" for a bite to eat.

"Va't'il comment Francois ?" Maeve inquired. Madeleine grabbed the towel that Cendrillon had fetched, wrapped it around Maeve's shoulders and gently steered the doctor upstairs. "Il est de cette façon. Je lui ai donné un certain laudinum", Madeleine's polite exuberance was suddenly shadowed with a mother's worry for her son. "Francois se repose", she murmured.

They climbed the stairs, and were suddenly tailed by a small raven haired girl of 4, tugging on her mother's skirts. "Maman! Est-ce que je peux aider?", the little girl pleaded. She had two large blue saucers for eyes. Maeve smiled at her sweet request. "Non Chloé", her mother said gently. "Il est temps pour le lit". Crocodile tears welled immediately and a perfect pout set itself upon the child's face. "Mais Maman! Je suis inquiété de Francois!". Madeleine hugged her daughter. "Mev prendra grand soin de Francois. Allez maintenant". She released her daughter to return downstairs and back to bed as the two women continued up.

Francois lay peacefully abed. Maeve crossed the room with her bag of supplies and set them down on the bedside table. Gently she sat on the edge of the bed and brushed back dark hair from Francios' sweaty brow. The stupor of laudanum dreams had hold of the little boy, and he mumbled occasionally. Madame Laroche, exuberance now completely replaced with worry, looked on anxiously. Maeve pulled back the covers and inspected Francois' left leg. It was swollen and bruised...the only real indication that it was in fact broken. She sighed in relief. This meant the break was not a terrible one nor one that would require amputation. However, she feared that since it was a break in the same place as before, that Francois might always walk with a slight limp thereafter. She communicated this to Madeleine who looked at once reassured and upset. Fortunately, Francois was already in a laudanum stupor, so setting the break didn't disturb Francois too terribly. He moaned a bit, whimpered, and his breath quickened. But soon, he was at rest once more.

Maeve was suddenly reminded of her hunger the moment the maid entered the room with a plate of warm food. Madame Laroche urged Maeve to eat, insisting that she would finish the job of tying off the splint. Grateful, Maeve took the plate and ate heartily.

[William Brand]

July 29, 1704 - Le Saint Heureux

Captain Brand took his leave of Mister McGinty and their guests and retired to a private room on the Southern side of the inn. It overlooked enough of the Cul du Sac royal that William could make out the general anchorage of the Watch Dog, if not the 'Dog herself. Rain continued to obscure much of the port and the smell of it was in the air everywhere.

William sent for hot water to be fetched up to his room, for in addition to the comfortable furnishings of his surroundings, the room was blessed with a large, copper tub which sat facing the window. It was more round than long, almost a sitting tub, but when it was filled it proved to be quite comfortable. William sat in the hot water in near darkness, content with the dying light from the fireplace and the occasional lightning off the bay. He had thought to beg a book or two from the proprietor, but chose to soak instead, content to let his mind wander.

He spent the better part of an hour going over figures and positions aboard ship that would need filling. He pondered on the small fortune which the Ilex treasure was yielding. He wondered after Mister Youngblood and his cannon sales. He meditated on new officers for the 'Dog.

With his mind drifting from topic to topic, it eventually brought him to older things. Lost things.

The storm soon reminded him of his beginning weeks at Almeria when he lived and worked in the village of San Jose. A three day storm had drowned the coast of Spain and he had spent much of those first few days indoors. William smiled to think that fourteen years had passed since then and he looked down at his hands to see if they seemed any older. The bath water had puckered them full of wrinkles, but he couldn't imagine that his hands looked any older, for memory doesn't allow us the luxury of comparison.

"We always see ourselves as a present thing." he thought.

Of course, he could not think about any of this, especially Spain, without wondering again what had become of Teresa. He was thinking of her often of late, and it didn't bother him so much to remember her now, as it did to recognize that he was forgetting what she looked like at all. Her face was now becoming an ideal and vague image in his mind. The years had replaced the absolute focus of her face with a hazy representation of her once clear and unforgettable form.

"I should have borrowed that book..." William said aloud to himself.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian petted the cat, who took every bit of his attention whole heartedly and purred on and on. He chuckled at the antics the wee beastie would go through when he stopped, from rolling onto his back to standing on his hind legs and pawing at the air. After a time the rain has lessened and the captain ventured out and forward to the meager galley and found it empty. He poked through what was left out and fixed a small plate of cheese, cold ham and a lone piece of fish with a hardtack biscuit and took it back to the Wardroom. There he held out the fish to the cat he decided to call ‘The Pooka’, or ‘Pooka Prince’ when he sat regally as he sniffed the offered morsel and gave Dorian a look that said “It will do”. The fish was placed on the deck and soon after was devoured quickly. Once every little bit had been consumed, Pooka bathed himself and strolled around the cabin like he owned the ship. As He did so, Dorian watched him as he ate from his plate and drank more of the fine wine. The hour was late yet he did not find himself set for sleep. The quiet of the evening and pleasant solitude, aside from the company of the cat, was refreshing. It was as if the rains had washed away some layer of dust the coated something. The air was cooler and the rains furthered that. It was not cold, but pleasantly chilly. Enough that he had left his waistcoat on while he sat and dined on his midnight victuals. After a time he heard the muffled sound of a voice, one lifted in song across the waters. He wasn’t sure if it was from another ship or from the port. He could catch the melody but not the words. No matter, it was not a song he was familiar with. It still brought a smile to his face, knowing that a good time was being had by others. He closed his eyes briefly and was rewarded by nodding off in his chair.