The Watch Dog

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough was elated by the invitation to dance. To be swept away by this man whom she barely knew. He was a big man and made her feel petite but far from small. Murin was not a small woman even after her time on the island had not significantly reduced her much, she was a healthy working woman yet in his arms she felt as slight as Jenny. The attraction was not to be denied by either. Perhaps the rules of polite society had been broken but Murin’s life aboard a sailing vessel was not within any rules that polite society had established either. This man whose stature made her feel delicate, whose embrace brought out the graceful woman inside the shy girl, his strength comforted her and to be so close as to feel his pulse racing as hers was she was lost to the room ...until she noted a look of concern in Genevieve’s eyes. Their eyes met and Jenny directed her focus across the table. Nathan!

Murin had no Idea he was in the pub. How long had she been unaware of his presence? What had him so aggravated? Nathan was a sweet lad and she so enjoyed his company. She made note to talk to Nate, who now sat in Alders vacated seat, as soon as the dance ended. Then Alder spun her in closer and the thoughts of Nathan receded. She held herself closer to her partner as the tempo slowed and got lost in the moment.

Quick motion in the corner caught her eye. Nathan was on his feet and Captain Lasseter’s hand to Nathan's throat. In the next instant the captain strode purposefully towards the duo,

“Mister Wenge, Miss McDonough… I believe yer havin’ a grande time a-dancin’ an’ a-flirtin’… I would suggest ye remember this time well, and not make such a show next time… if there be a next time… “

He smiled sweetly and tipped his hat and turned to leave, but stopped and addressed them once again.

“One other thing… Iffn’ I hear tell of a brawl in this place or another, and any of ye be involved, no matter who be at fault… it will not go well once back aboard… “

A show of it? But…? She hadn't even given it a thought. Nathan was so protective of her. Murin had been a rather forward with the carpenter. She closed her eyes and shook her head at her foolishness. Alder resumed the dance with more decorum than before and as the music ended he led the lass back to the table. Glancing at Alder with sadness in her eyes she bowed her head to him "Tank ye' fer d'dance. I ken only hope tis nil our last." She smiled a soft rueful smile and headed towards the table. Both the captain and Nathan were absent and Jenny sat alone. Murin noted the look of unease on the woman’s face and moved swiftly to the seat at her side. "Jenny? Wot appened?” Miss Ashcombe relayed the events with Nathan as she saw them. “M'so sorry lass, I nil know wot got inta Nate.” Murin scanned the crowd as she continued. “He's a good lad really, kind hearted and caring and very protective uv mae. Dotes on mae like a child e'does." Having no success in locating Mister Bly she turned to Alder she said "Ef ye would nil mind keepin company wit Mez Ashcombe fer a moment I needs t'speak t'Mester Mooney." She did not wait for a response crossing to the lad that may have some insight as to Nathan’s mood and whereabouts.

The crew seemed quiet, subdued even. "Pooul, wot wuz Naten so upset bout? Alder is a crew member, he wouldn't harm mae. Besides I wus in d'company uv annuter lady also, twas nil like I wuz alone wit Mester Wenge. Had I known Naten were here I would ave invited him t' join us. I tink my companion would ave liked his company ...ifen he were his normal self!" she added with a smile.

"Are you daft girl? He has no interest in the lady in your company! Do you not see how he dotes on you? How he seeks out your company as often as possible? How he makes a point to keep your company?"

"He’s a friend, he ..." Miss McDonough stopped, her brow furrowed. "He looks t'mae as a ...” her statement became less firm and she began to question herself “a ...sister, someun in his care.” Realization set in, "Goode laurd! I've been a fool. I wuz so sure det he wuz jus bein nice, tendin t’a new crew member! How could I have missed it” Her mind ran over numerous signs of his affection that she had missed. She rose to her feet, "D'ye know where he's gone?" Paul slowly shook his head from side to side. "How could I be so crule? Pooul I needs t'talk t' him!"

"I think it would be best if you wait until morning. He has been drinking and will likely be drinking more before he sleeps."

"Oh Paul! I had no idea." She sat again.

"Anything you do now would only lead to conflict. He will be fine. Let the night take its course and you will see him at noon tomorrow if not sooner."

"Aye." Murin was not convinced. She sat for a moment in silence. As her attention returned to the here and now she heard murmurings of Mister Pew and illness. Looking to Paul she asked “Wot’s a’matter wit Mester Pew?” Mooney gave what few details he had. Murin’s stomach churned with the news and silence fell between the two of them. "I best bae gettin back to Miss Ashcombe. Ef ya see Naten will ye bae sure to let me know where he is please.” Paul nodded and the lass returned to her companions.

[Pew]

Eric visited a pub on his way to the wharf. He did not feel like banter nor did he necessarily feel like going to the wharf. So he sat in the corner and watched the goings on for a bit. A disconnected person he was. He thoughts traveled as far as Preston actually losing his life and then he himself becoming Master-at-arms. Guilty, he felt, and quickly glanced at the maiden sitting nearest the bar. She smiled and he smirked more than truly giving back. He approach the woman and shrugged her off asking for a bottle to get him on his way. The barkeep gave him a bottle for the way and he took a long pull about as the dark elixir slowly warmed him.

He walked slowly looking around as he truly had not been in Martinique proper just yet. Eric had plans for a nice set of pistols and he let that idea wrap around him distancing himself from the last several hours.

"Ah, Mister Franklin," said a familiar voice from behind him. Eric turned to see his Quartermaster turned Captain of the Heron approaching him.

"Captain," Eric said quietly.

"Mister Pew 'n surgery 'board th' Dog?" asked the Captain with a tinge of cautious opimism. The good hands of Doctor Fitzgerald were known to wake even Lazarus.

"Nay sir. The Doctor wasn't about. Luc knew o' the surgeon here 'n town. We took Preston there."

Captain Lasseter's face changed. Again he would see the surgeon, but under different circumstances this time. Eric told Dorian what had happened aboard ship, and how Cobus and Luigi had been sent to find the Captain.

"Jus' needed a sip Captain," Eric said, the exhaustion showing through his voice. He offered the bottle to Dorian Lasseter, who in turn took a deep sip himself.

[Dorian Lasseter]

After Dorian had a pull from Mister Franklin’s rum, he stood a moment longer in silence. He looked Eric up and down, trying to determine the seriousness of the situation by the demeanor of the man. Finally he offered the bottle back and spoke.

“We best be headin’ ta Miss O’Treasaigh’s surgery… See where ting’s stand…”

Eric looked at the Captain with a sober expression and only nodded before he turned and they began the journey to the office where their comrade in arms lay. The walk was a silent one, save for others along the way, even at this rather late hour. Occasionally Dorian looked at Mister Franklin to see what external feelings betrayed themselves on his face. Mostly he saw a look of concern and possibly fear, a fear he also shared of the possibility of Preston dying from his sudden illness. As he thought on this, the memory of his recent injuries pressed to the forefront of his mind, causing him to touch the wound on his temple. It was still tender and felt mildly warm, but his fingers came away clean, no blood or other fluid on them. The men continued to walk, slowing occasionally in the darkness, remembering the way to the Young Doctor’s residence and office.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor paced the quaterdeck, unable to focus or hold still. She oversaw all the goings on of the ship, making sure all was in order. But she spoke to few, and even then only out of nessesity. Her face was a blank, an expressionless mask covering the torrent of emotions and thoughts that were running amok under the surface.

[BriarRose Kildare]

Briar defiantly wiped away her tears. Taking a deep breath, Briar slowly pulled out a piece of parchment from the top of her bodice. With a shaking hand she handed it to Maeve. Maeve’s hazel green eyes widened with understanding as she saw the broken seal. Taking the missive, Maeve quickly scanned it’s contents. Looking up at Briar, she said, “You’ll be stayin’ with me then and no arguin’ about it.”

“But I can’t endanger you and ..”, Maeve broke off her friends sentence, “Ya never mind that now.”

Just then the man lying unconscious started shaking with chills uncontrollably. Briar looked at Maeve as she started walking toward the table and asked, “Now who is this gentleman and what have you determined might be his ill?”

“Well, he has just recently been brought in. I am believin’ he has the fever of Siam”, Maeve’s soft angular features were taut with concern.

“May I take a look at him?’

“Aye, ya go right on a head and tell me what you might be thinkin’”

Briar began to assess the poor man taking in his gray parlor. His muscles were taut and he moaned through bloody lips. Beads of sweat lay on his brow as he shook with shivering chills. “Maeve, dear, I think he may not have the fever of Siam, but Marsh fever.”

“Marsh fever, are ya sure?” Maeve asked with a bit of hope in her voice.

“We need to get him cleaned up. I will make a tincture of cinchona tree bark. And I will need some wine to mix with it.”

Briar picked up her apothecary chest placing it on a near by table. Opening up the chest she began to take out her mortar and pestle placing them on the table. Heaving a sigh, she began to search through several compartments before finding the cinchona tree bark that was wrapped in muslin. Taking several pieces of the bark she began to grind it in to a soft powder.

Looking up she saw Maeve coming back into the room with a pail of water. Rolling up her sleeves, Briar began to help Maeve clean and undress the man. Neither needed to speak working together as of one mind. After he was cleaned Maeve placed a pillow underneath his head while Briar laid a soft wool blanket over his body to keep him warm.

“Do you have any wine, Maeve?” Briar asked.

“Aye, that I do.” Pulling a bottle and a goblet down from a near by shelf Maeve handed it to Briar.

Pouring the wine into the goblet, Briar then added the powder to it. Wisps of coppery tendrils fell over her shoulder as she bent to place the goblet to the man’s lips as she raised his head.

In a soft tone she said, “Come now dear sir, and drink a bit, it will help ease the ache and fever.” He slightly opened his bleary fevered eyes as he sipped greedily with thirst from the cup.

[Pew]

Squinting, I try and raise from the bed. I'm not aboard the Watch Dog for sure. Alarmed slightly, but the sweet sounds of soft voices assure my safety and health. An ivory hand offers a chalice to me. Still sore from vomiting and with the putrid taste in my mouth I gulp the liquid quickly. It warms me as it slides ever lower within.

I ease myself slowly back into the blanket.

[Pew]

The home of the Barber-Chiriurgeon

Eric stood at the door of the chiriurgeon for a moment longer before the silence could no longer bear witness. "I truly hope they 'ave gone down for th' evening sir." Eric said nervously. The Captain of the Heron nodded and bit his upper lip. Dorian Lasseter exhaled slowly.

"Have you eaten t'night lad?" Dorian asked, trying to remove both of their minds from the pressing matter behind Miss O'Treasaigh's door.

"Nay Captain. We had jus' arrived at the Watch Dog an' were unloading th' goods when Miss Smith had found Preston."

"Aye. Some fine fare then, an' r'fill o' th' bottle. We'll see th' chiriurgeon later th's eve." Dorian Lasseter put his hand on the shoulder of the sergeant-at-arms and the two turned for the closest ordinary.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Tavern at Le Chateau Anse

As Miss Ashcombe sat in uncomfortable silence with Mr. Wenge the moments passed slowly..her thoughts drifted from present situation to the crew. Many of whom had left and others even still stood quietly talking, a look of grave concern replacing the merriment there just moments before. Some others from the ships had come in seeking Captain Lasseter who left immediately upon recieving the news.

She understood that a crew member..an officer perhaps had fallen ill. Jenny wondered at the maladies which sometimes afftected those visiting an island while they passed over "locals" who had some natural or built up immunity to their environment. Though she didn't know the man she had overheard called Mr. Pew, Jenny saw that he must be the sort of caliber of a man who was well respected and liked anomgst his peers. The crew members were pulled together at the mention of his name and all other events of the evening seemed to pale in comparison as they spoke in hushed tones or sought the solace of drink while they waited for news which might be a long time coming.

Murin returned to the table and Alder stood immediately looking as if he suddenly felt out of place. He excused himself after placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and went to speak to the rest of the crew. It was only as Murin sat down and looked at her, that Jenny saw she was near tears..

[Silkie McDonough]

"How ken a delightful day fall inta ruin in jus mowments?" Murin fought the tears that welled up in her eyes. "Our Master et'Arms, is very ill n'tis feared he'll nil survive. He has once stopped breathing already while in route to the Chiriurgeon's." Murin paused and swallowed hard managing to hold back the tears. "T'make tings worse I ave been blind t'da feelings of a dear friend! I tot he saw me only as someone in need of care, a new crew member who needing elp adjustin. I convinced myself det de few times I found myself tinking uv im as more I was imagining tings. Now ...now that I have allowed myself to behave so with Alder ..." Murin paused again closing her eyes and biting her lower lip she breathed in deeply. "...d'lad, Nathan, wot was sitting wit you n' cap’n Lasseter, I nil saw it. I nil know how I missed it!" Miss McDonough rested her head in her hands and took in another breath through her teeth, pressed the heel of her hand into her weepy eyes and looked up at Miss Ashcombe eyes red with disappointment and self doubt. "N'cap'n Lasseter feelin d'need to chide d'carpenter n'mae! Lawd wot wuz I tinkin?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

Inside the rooms of Maeve O’Treasaigh, Surgeon

As the man on the table was made comfortable and a silence fell, voices were heard outside. Miss O’Treasaigh looked at Briar a moment and nodded before heading to the door. Upon opening her door, she saw Captain Lasseter and Mister Franklin turning away. The noise of the door caught their attention and they turned back. She stepped out and closed the door quietly behind her. Maeve smiled and spoke.

“Good evenin’ Cap’n Lasseter, Mister Franklin… “

The two men turned around and smiled. Although they were standing in the street, Dorian took off his hat.

“Good Evenin’ Miss O’Treasaigh… I… might I inquire on ‘ow Preston fares?”

Her Brow creased a moment, then Eric spoke up.

“Mister PEW… Preston…”

Maeve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and she nodded.

“Preston is restin’ now… A dear friend, an Apothocary stopped in and we’re tendin ta his ills… “

“And, what might his ills be, dear lady?”

Inquired the Captain of the Heron. Maeve took a look over her shoulder, back to the closed door behind her.

“Tis the Marsh Fever… He’s restin’ well, but still fever’d… “

The look on Dorian’s face said all she needed. His smile faded slowly into a gave look of concern.

“I….. I see… Ah Hmm… very well… We shall let you return to attending him. I have a room at th’ Chateau Anse… Please send word if anything should happen before I return. Has Cap’n Brand been here?”

She pursed her lips and took in a breath.

“Nay… th’ good Cap’n hasn’t been here as of yet, your men did go looking for ‘im…”

Dorian nodded in answer.

“Very well… We shall return soon, unless it is best ta just wait til morn. Let the man rest wi’out disturbance?”

“Aye Cap’n that may be best… I’ll send for you and Cap’n Brand of course, should anything occur.”

Again Dorian nodded, but this time a smile crossed his face.

“Thank ye kindly Miss O’Treasaigh… Good evening again…”

With a curtsey and bows, they parted. She back inside and the two men turned away. Dorian again looked to Mister Franklin.

“Vittles fer ye lad… and… somethin’ fer me as well…”

Eric nodded sullenly as the began to walk towards the ordinary they passed not long ago, hoping it was still serving food at this late hour…

Just before four bells of the Mid Watch

[Alder]

Fraught with concern over the sudden departure and the obviously morose mutterings betwixt the crew remaining in the tavern, Alder proceeded to the table of the concerned fellows. In light of Captain Lasseter’s open reproach and his newness to the fold, the carpenter’s arrival at tableside was not met with an immediate welcome. And, although Alder understood this social dynamic well, he would not be cast off so easily. He was confident his allegiance to vessel and venturer would ultimately forge a lasting alliance. His future as that of every seamen depended upon the same. And thus it was as he gathered news of the fellow who had taken ill. As he listened on intently, ferreting out fact from fears, the seriousness of the condition unfolded. Alder grasped his St. Joseph’s medal and breathed a silent prayer on behalf of Mr. Pew.

Begging his leave, he parted with the sincere request that he be sought out were there any service he could offer. Faces paled and already weary expressions fell. Aghast by the realization that his trade forged coffins as readily as it wielded caulk, he cautiously eased the tone with a toast.

“To Mr. Pew, may his strength be restored to overflowing that we be long favored by his counsel”

A chorus of utterances tempered by the somber tone was set aloft as tankards were drained and Alder humbly faded back toward his seat beside Miss McDonough.

As he rounded his seat, her poorly-cloaked distress became apparent.

Eyes that once glistened as she spun in his arms now pooled with raw emotion. The small quiver dancing upon her sweet lips beseeched answers to unspoken but gnawing questions.

Even as his nascent adoration and need to comfort compelled him to pull the lamenting lass toward him, every sinew in his being screamed to be back aboard the Watch Dog to once again be immerse in his work and free from life’s complications.

[William Brand]

William and his two chosen companions arrived at Maeve's humble shop only minutes after Dorian's departure. William was anxious enough to by then that he stepped from the carriage before it had come to a complete halt. He allowed the momentum of his departure to carry him past the small group of men waiting in the street, passing into the confines of the shop without a knock or utterance.

Once inside, he made his way quickly to Mister Pew, while maintaining the distance of one who has read of disease. He was torn by an understanding that not all causes of life and death, as they touched disease, were agreed upon. Many knowledgable men of science still argued the finer aspects of disease regarding proximity and contagions.

"Captain Brand..." Maeve began, but seeing that the man took no notice of her in his concern for the Master-at-Arms, she let him be for the moment.

William had already set aside his reservations in order to test the heat of Preston's forehead with the back of his hand. William's face furrowed a bit, and he muttered something that no one heard but himself and the angel of death.

In truth, no one would have understood it anyway, for it was some half forgotten counter-curse which was part prayer and part cliche. Also, it was in a dialect and language that William had learned in his youth, removed by some several decades and seven thousand miles.

"How is it with him?" William asked, forgetting to address Maeve formally or informally.

"Well sir, I'm afraid he's not so good. However, I'm more hopeful of his condition improving now that we know his illness is Malaria, rather than the Fever of Siam."

William nodded, and again he was alone by himself, turning from the chirurgeon to his own thoughts. He drew up a chair to sit, but then remained by it for so long, that Maeve a invited him to sit. William obliged her with a nod, sitting slowly and saying nothing.

"Have you what you need, Miss O'Treasaigh?"

Maeve looked at him a moment, guaging her answer. "There are a few herbs we could use to help him, items that Briar..."

William passed a small purse brimming with coin before she had finished, and the look on his face, though turned to the Master-at-Arms, spoke volumes. Briar and Maeve were moved several times to say something, but failed. William broke the long silence when he ordered Preston to recover with a quiet forcefullness before he stood and went from the room with more formality then he had entered with.

Outside, he nodded to the waiting crew members with a look that said little more than 'Time will tell'.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin took note of Alder’s approach and shared an unsure glance with Jenny. Miss Ashcombe’s eyes reflected the compassion in her heart for the young lass but there was nothing she, a relative stranger, could do to remedy the situation. She felt that the carpenter and tailor needed to be alone for a time. Before the gentleman had seated himself she stood “Pardonnez-moi s'il vous plait, I had not intended on staying in the city this night and have not yet secured lodging for myself. Please excuse me.” Jenny gave a quick curtsy to the couple, Murin nodded and managed a distressed smile, Alder gave a respectful nod of his head and she left the two alone.

The carpenter sat himself again in the chair that had been his this evening and Murin raised her eyes to meet his. She longed for Alder to take her in his arms, to comfort her but dared not move towards him. She imagined the others from the crew scrutinizing her. She hoped that none were aware of her outburst just days after her arrival on the Watch Dog when she found herself in Nathan’s arms after the death of the lady Anna just 9 days past. She feared that word would quickly reach the lad on the morrow and she had no wish to cause him further wrong. “I ...Natan …” she could not find appropriate words, did not know what she wanted to say. Miss McDonough felt culpable for her actions. How could she have missed what Nathan had so clearly been feeling? How could she have been so forward with the gentleman in front of her while both were so new to the ship, while both would be on the same crew …in front of the crew and captain …Mister Pew suffering a fever and likely facing death? No, he couldn’t die! “Pew,” She closed her eyes against the tears; tears that she knew were foolish, emotions welled again she attempted to forced them back. She felt lost. Turning from Mister Wenge she buried her face into her hands, her shoulders shuddered a moment then she turned to the man she who so enticed her. Using her sleeve she attempted to dry her cheeks of the salty water that trickled from her eyes and managed to articulate what she was thinking “I’m worried fer dem.”

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe had paid the proprietor and was grateful that there were still rooms available at this late hour. Also given the number of patrons who passed through the tavern finding need of lodging after too much drink or wishing privacy in the company of another. She sat at the small writing desk in the room which was simple of design, but clean and warmly appointed, with even a pot of flowers gracing the bed stand. Jenny stared out the window that looked between two neighboring buildings and afforded one a glimpse of the moon upon the gentle swells of the cove. Dark silhouettes of palm fronds waved in the warm breeze which played with loose strands of hair and she closed her eyes breathing deeply. Jenny Ashcombe thought about the years spent here which had held such promise both for her and for her family. A stake in Isle De Generosite was promised in exchange for her arriving to take the place of her uncles wife, passed these five years from fever. Jenny hoped such fever held not so strong a grip on the Watch Dog's Mr. Pew. Though she didn't know the man she felt for him and those who held him in regard. She said a small prayer for him before shuttering the window and retiring to a chair to read the book purchased earlier. So much had happened this evening and Jenny knew though no one waited for her back at the main house..there would be consequence for her dissapearance. However she relished the freedom in the few hours ahead, not feeling tired and planning to enjoy the book she held. Jenny wondered at what may transpire between Mr. Wenge and Murin..and wished for company to while the hours with. Sleep would not find her anytime soon.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Luck was with the two seamen, and the ordinary still had the cook in the kitchen. Eric had a meat pie, and both had small beer. Dorian sat in contemplation while Mister Franklin ate his fill. His mind was on the Master-at-Arms, lying in a fevered state in the surgeons abode. He was so lost in thought that he finished his beer, yet tipped the empty vessel to his lips several times before realizing it was so. The final time an annoyed look crossed his features and he called over a serving girl, ordering more. As he waited for the fresh drink, he looked to Mister Franklin who had stopped eating and was just staring at what was left of his meal.

“Eric… bit of a stupid question, but are ye a’right?”

He looked up at Captain Lasseter with a sullen visage. He heaved a great sigh.

“Sorry sir… ma’ mind’s on Preston… I guess yers be to… He’s in an awful state sir… and… gawd… I don’t want ta think about it…”

Dorian nodded a bit and tapped the table with his middle finger.

“Don’t ye worry lad… Preston’s a strong man… He be right as rain afore ye know it…. Mark my words…”

Although he spoke with conviction, the captain did not truly believe his own words, but he needed to keep someone’s spirits up.

“Now, finish up… we’ll head back fer ta see if Cap’n Brand is about, then we’ll see what may come of things…”

“Aye-aye Sir…..”

[Alder]

Alder struggled with his overwhelming desire to hold Murin close and calm the tender woman that wept before him, but scrutinizing his actions became tantamount. He paused to reconsider as his heart fought with his intellect. What might he otherwise offer in consolation toward a fellow crewmember on a ship of men alone? He considered well the intimacy he longed to share, though painfully cognizant that such displays must be reserved for; God willing, another time and place. Alder placed a paternal hand upon her shoulder and softly spoke with all confidence.

“Dearest Lady, all will be well.” Murin looked up into Alder’s reassuring eyes and her chest heaving a stuttered sigh as he gently smiled and slowly withdrew his hand.

Murin’s eyes traced his motion, recording the warmth of his hand’s powerful presence wanting this welcomed measure of the man to never wane. At last, she turned back to his resonant tone.

“Sweet, sweet woman, you present all the surprise and strength of a summer squall and still. . . the gentle heart of zephyr that beats within.” he did not wish to dissuade her advances, but he knew he must, for both their sakes.

He leaned in precariously close given his state, though offered what might well be considered congenial and proper space and spoke softly “Fear not, that this calm that you must know from me will everlast.” Deliberatly vague, he dare not say another word on the matter.

Murin nodded, heard his cryptic words and struggled only briefly to encode them before dismissing the content for the meaning in his tone. There was a sense of certainty with this man that put her at ease and bound her reason to higher purpose. She felt assured, and strong in his presence, despite the trembling of passion that coursed just beneath the surface.

In the absence of Miss Ashcombe, Alder had imagined fruitful conversations; a continuance of their discussion on Aesop, island foliage or the like. He craved anything to offer him a deeper glimpse into Murin’s world. Although expressions flowed fluently, there were few words.

His grieving soul; ached to freely offer conscription alongside the journey of such a lass, an emotional extravagance he had forbade until of late and now he found he must quell once again.

The time for all to part grew neigh. Conversations within the tavern splintered into farewells and remaining familiar crew members and patrons filed past narrow corridors of people, tables and chairs. Many clambered up-stairs navigating floors that swayed from libation as recognizably as rigging that may rock underfoot.

Alder escorted Murin to her room, noting well its place and position in the architecture, that he may act as sentinel upon his return. They paused in the empty hallway at the threshold of her door. He tore his eyes from the allure of her enveloping bashful smile and risked much a he lifted and turned her hand over to place a tender kiss upon her palm. As his thumb caressing her fingers in a last embrace, her sullen hand fell empty and to her side. Even as the gesture narrowed a gap between them, Murin felt an unmistakable detachment.

A tear again welled in her eye though her words of earlier “I’m worried fer dem.” echoed only upon the receptive frequency of silent longing.

“Yes, Lass” Alder replied to her unspoken contemplation as he turned to leave.

“Rest. . .” I will see what of Mr. Pew” came the resounding but troubled voice from over his shoulder as his silhouette vanished around a corner. Hearing the closing of her door and the assuring fastening of latch, he exited the hall with more urgency. Knowing he could not find any semblance of peace without more current news of Mr. Pew, Alder set about the dank, dark streets to acquirer the same.

[Black Syren]

An urgent need to visit the heads had her scaling down from her post nearly slipping in the rigging as she made her way down. Satisfied Argus lay sleeping where she had tied him she moved quietly away only to stop as a shadowy figure moved at her side. Stopping to stare at the shape she shook her head at the frayed rope where the scamp must have gnawed it in twain. Argus had waken when she had slipped past him and now followed her, still she could not stop to chide him when there were other much more pressing matters.

Hurrying across the deck she looked about hoping Argus would be quiet and not draw attention as she made her way out and quickly went about her business, once done carefully made her way back and shivered as she began to lace her slops. A swell of the ship had her shifting to keep her balance and the pup unused to the pitch and sway of the ship lost his balance and slammed into the backs of her knees hurling her forwards. Quickly letting go of her half laced slops she stretched out her hands to break her fall….

[Silkie McDonough]

The latch was slid into place, Miss McDonough left her hands there and on the door knob, rested her forehead against the frame, and closed her eyes against the pounding of her heart. The darkness of the room gathered about her as she stood alone in her room. Wrapped in the cloak of night, silent tears washed her cheeks, the bitter sweetness of the day’s events raced through her mind as she allowed herself a few more moments of self indulgent emotions. Yes she had been chided by Captain Lasseter. Yes, she had unintentionally hurt Nathan and she hoped upon hope that her friend would see she had not meant to cause him any pain. The evening had, regrettably, ended on a somber note but the day... the day had been a good one. Murin straightened herself, took in a deep breath, turned and waited as her eyes adjust to the room.

Genevieve had been a God-send from the moment she had come to Murin's rescue at the milliners. Murin was elated when the lass had come to the inn looking for her today. A friendship had formed between the two, for the lady was like the women of means Murin had met on the Watch Dog, understanding that life did not afford all the same opportunities and willing to give, those who sought it, a hand in attaining their desires. Miss McDonough recalled an episode from that afternoon, regretting she had eaten the meat pie purchased for her meal so quickly, she was licking her fingers clean when Jenny gave the better portion of her pie to a waif who sat forlorn on the street. Such a small gesture for one of means, given from the heart, spoke volumes of the woman’s compassion. When bartering a price for the goods she had purchased that day Genevieve knew the value of coin and was steadfast in her dealings with the men who may have been able to intimidate Murin if she had been on her own. A smile formed on Murin's tear stained face. It was a good day.

Advancing into the room Miss McDonough placed her basket on the floor then peered at the shadow that appeared in the small wall mirror above the dressing table. In the dim light that filtered through the shutters Murin's eye glimpsed the blossom that had been placed behind her ear by Alder Wenge. "Pink Heliotrope" His voice echoed in her memory as she recalled the touch of the hand that placed the now wilting cluster there. Gently she removed it from behind her ear and held it to her nose. Breathing deeply she closed her eyes taking in the lingering light fragrance. A soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth and her lips stretched lightly over her teeth. Yes, it was a good day indeed. She spent the walk from the book shoppe to the inn only a few inches above the ground. The food served at the meal she could not recall for her attention was fully on the carpenter at her side. She smiled and shook her head when she recalled how little attention she had paid to Miss Ashcombe and Captain Lasseter. The delicate cluster of flowers was placed out of harms way on the dressing table. Taking the combs from her hair dark curls tumbled over her shoulders. She placed the combs beside the pink blossoms and continued to undress layer by layer neatly draping each piece of clothing over clothes pegs on the wall until she wore only her chemise and hose. Lifting the flowers from the dresser once more and sampling the fragrance she danced to the bed ...the dance. Not since Aiden had she enjoyed a dance so. Her heart pounding at his touch, at the feel of her hand in his, his arm so firm around her waist, the other hand guiding her about the floor closer than proper but not nearly close enough! Oh to share that touch once more! Nearly falling back she flopped onto the mattress allowing the feeling to linger with her. Tomorrow she would allow the worries of the evening to invade her senses but tonight, alone, tonight she would keep the memory wrapped around her until in sleep they danced again.

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Watch Dog

“OLPH!” pushed from behind he landed face down on the deck narrowly missing the rail with his head. Some oaf now lay atop him in the dark.“What the fek?! he grumbled as he hauled himself and the now unraveled coil of rope from the deck. “Best watch yer …” he stopped when he got to his hands and knees finding himself face to face with a Mastiff. The sailor did not move for Argus had placed himself between Miss Tribbiani, and Mister Woodington and was now staring at him letting out a low growl.

“ARGUS!” Siren pulled him away from the lad on the deck. The animals attitude changed immediately as he turned to Siren and pranced like a pup still keeping himself between the intruder and his mistress.

“So this is the beast I’ve heard tale of?" Alan found his footing and began re-coiling the rope. Siren nodded in the dark as an embarrassed blush rose in her cheeks. He continued. "What have you bribed the captain with to allow such hound aboard?! ...or has our good captain succumb to the song of the siren?” he let loose a comfortable laugh that caught the attention of Argus who at once came to attention and standing guard at the feet of the woman.

[Black Syren]

Quickly adjusting her slops and lacing them properly as she scrammbled free she kept her gaze upon Argus and as he pranced about she patted his head and gave him the command to sit and watched clearly amazed as he did so. Hugging him quickly she praised him "Good boy." But then her attentions swept back up to Mister Woodington.

"Just what are you implying I have done sir? Bribing? There is no need to do so I assure you, and you make much of a song unsung." She retorted rising to her feet.

Was he playing about or did he truly think she had bribed the captain by sleeping with him or other such foul means. She watched as he went about coiling the rope he had apparently been working with before Argus had felled her pushing her into him. Her bruised cheek throbbed from hitting it again but it could not be helped.

"I trust you are well Sir?" she inquired in dulcet tones before attempting to move past him.

[William Brand]

Ajayi Abiodun sat in the quiet of the Watch Dog's sick ward contemplating the drudgery of yet another past and unremarkable day. It had been as the days prior to it. Comfortable. Private, but for Meg. He had little or anything to complain about, but the boredom of it was beginning to leak through his seams. Every part of his brain was now in danger of that scuttling which comes to the restless who cannot be bothered with slow recoveries.

Days had passed in this silence, but for the tide of humanity which came and went to the 'Dog. Meg was too removed, even when she was present, to be company enough, and she was a language apart from him, both in gender and nativity. Both the ship's surgeon and her companion had been gone from the place. The few visitors he had known were less frequent and he now knew only visits from the ship's cook.

To make matters worse, he had learned by what little English he possessed, and by no small supposition on his part, that Mister Pew had been removed ashore under circumstances most mortal. This bothered Ajayi to no end, having found a mutual approbation in the outspoken officer. He recognized a mutual restlessness of spirit, and it didn't hurt that Mister Pew had demonstrated nothing but casual equality to both him and others.

Mister Gage came in with a hearty supper of local fish and flora. He laid it out and gave Ajayi a warm smile. "There you go, mate. Shall I fetch up a match for the lantern?"

Always these same two phrases, Ajayi thought. 'There you go, mate' and "Shall I fetch up a match for the lantern?'. His brain ached to hear so few phrases every day.

"No." Ajayi said firmly, and with conviction, having learned all of the proper affirmatives and negatives early on. Mister Gage was surprised, but not shocked.

"Prefer the dark for a change?" the cook offered.

Ajay stood up, and while he winced a little, there was no real pain in his side. Most of his ache came from the seated idleness of too man days spent bent over in the small space. His back popped audibly and he grinned to be upright a little.

"Out for a stroll then...?" Lazarus asked, not surprised to see the man wanting more than for space.

Ajayi nodded, though he had understood the question not one bit. He went out into the world, releasing himself from the care of the ship's surgeon for the moment, though in time he would come into the care of another.

[Silkie McDonough]

"Aye. All is well no thanks to that lubber." he indicated Argus with a smile that the lass would have been hard pressed to see in the darkness. "And I am implying nothing,"Alan had coiled the rope again "save that it is quite possible" securing the coils together. "that Argus here would be able to empty the galley in a few short days!" He threw the coils over his shoulder and squatted keeping his distance from the dog but bringing him again eye to eye. "However were you able to pry such a magnificent animal from the lead of his master?" He held his hand out palm up to see if the animal might change his mind about the man he now protected his mistress from.

[Black Syren]

Though see it she could not she could hear the smile in his voice and relaxed somewhat though still stung by the insinuation that she had bribed their Captain for such a favor. A dolt she may well be to bring a dog on board a sailing vessel, but leave him behind she could not do. As the dog still sat his tail thumped the deck loudly every other rotation or so and she finally glanced down, the dogs head already reaching her hip and he but sitting. It was true he would eat quite a bit, but surely what he was given would be better than receiving naught, the poor lads ribs clearly showed and his coat which should be glossy lay lackluster and dull, but his eyes, his eyes sparkled again and she grew lightheatrted. Even if Argus did have to eventually leave the ship, he would learn that not all masters were cruel.

As Argus growled and hackles raised she glanced through her lashes to see Mr. Woodington squatting upon his haunches and holding out his hand palm up for the young dog to catch his scent. She merely waited and finally smiled once Argus stretched enough to sniff said hand. As Mr. Woodington asked about how she came about the dog she debated on the long story or the short.

“He rescued me from some unsavory men and their idea of a good time. That Mr. Woodington is why William has let him aboard. He is a protector, and a good watch dog or the Watch Dog.” She grinned then and rubbed the dogs ears stumbling as the big brute shifted his weight hard against her legs. “It seems I will have to learn to rewalk all over again.” She said softly, with great affection to the dog.

“We are sorry to have disturbed you.”

[Silkie McDonough]

"Tis not a disturbance but a distraction from the monotony of another night looking at the lights of the city." The cold of the dogs nose touched his palm "How I long for a long walk." There must have been remnants of the evening meal on his hand for a large tongue started to clear it away. "I hope he is not sampling for a later meal!" Alan laughed again.

[Black Syren]

As Argus began to lick his hand she laughed and completely relaxed very unlike how she normally was. No more reserve and chilly demeanor, but mischieveous and spirited. “Mayhaps he thinks you will make a fine meal and will hold him well till his next.” She teased.

Glancing over the rail to the illuminated city beyond she grinned and her voice softened “Nay tis not monotous. How could it be? There are so many things to see, and it all looks different in the night. Do you not ever wonder where the lights lead to? What the families within are doing? What danger is lurking in the alleys for unsuspecting travelers.”

“Tis beautiful no matter how many times one views it, it is always different. If you seek out those differences. That light there, the one winking? Last night it was not even on and o’er there farther down the beach, a new jollywatt is beached. Something is always different if you look. As for a walk, I cannot aid you with that.”