The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - At the Chirurgeon's Home

William awoke to the hushed sound of women's voices, and while he was awake rather quickly, he found that his legs remained fast asleep. He was forced to turn himself to either side by leaning in the chair until his legs woke up in slow, painful bouts. After a time the blood began to flow to his feet and he gritted his teeth at the discomfort. This was not improved by the ache in his back or the unpleasant knot at the base of his neck, but he bore all of this with relative patience. After all, not just a few weeks before, he had been in a thick stew of bilge water, blood and his own filth bound for England and the noose.

Remembering this, he bore the ache of the chair with a more sober aspect.

While he fidgeted, Claude Marchande awoke, and having slept much better than the others, and also longer, William sent him with purse and script to fetch back hot food and drink for the themselves and the two ladies. Claude slipped out quietly at once, leaving William to pace about on his newly resurrected legs.

While Claude was gone Dorian awoke long enough to say something incomprehensible about Gibraltar and the "open roads of Spain", but when William tried to question him he realized that Dorian had never been awake at all. He smiled to hear the man talk in his sleep, for he had never known him to do so and William had always secretly delighted in hearing such nonsense from slumbering people.

William's thoughts had been on Spain much of late, and the mention of it caused him to look out the front window at streets that looked nothing like Spain at all while he thought on villas and olive orchards.

"Good mornin', Captain Brand." Maeve said from the doorway which separated the two halves of the shop. William turned and bowed graciously enough.

"Forgive our impertinence, Miss O'Treasaigh. We could not keep from our friend's side."

Maeve seemed to care not at all. In fact, she smiled a smile that he had not witnessed before and wondered that he should have noticed so many variations of it in so short a time. This caused him to smile in return and he was fairly certain that no matter the outcome with Mister Pew, he and the lady chirurgeon would remain comfortable friends. Her smile seemed to say likewise, and he both hoped that he was right and prayed that he was wrong at the same time.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Isle De Generositie plantation Martinique

The last blush was leaving the sky as Jenny Ashcombe walked brisky up the path towards Isle De Generosite. In the distance workers and slaves long awake, traversed the path towards the cane fields in time with the clatter of farm implements and the bark of a hound or two, begging breakfast from those that carried it along.

A stretch of dew soaked bluff before the main house glistened as new sun played across the grass, making it look as though rare gems had been sprinkled amongst the slender green blades overnight.

Jenny loved this time of morning. The day held promise. The peace of the night still lingered and there were the few hours of quiet before the house would fully wake. Though she knew within the walls of her uncles domain, decades of tradition would have bakers hands in flour, maids scrubbing the floors of the great room and parlors and in the stables the groomsmen would be awash in the scent of leather, oil and fresh hay as they saw to the care of tack and beast. Songs of home far away would drift above the cane tops, as sugar was harvested by those indentured to a life amongst it, far from the lands they spoke of. Their weathered hands working long hours so that rich men could become richer, and so die in guilded beds and be sent to the next world with well appointed honor.

Sighing at the thought of those poor souls who worked her uncles soil, but still filled with the scent and feel of the morning Jenny sat at her dressing table and brushed her long dark hair. It had become flecked here and there with auburn from more time in the sun than a lady should spend without proper head covering. She looked in the glass and smiled at this thought, wondering at secret desires shared with no one save the dusky red cat now alseep on her bed.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve's smile lingered as she moved into the kitchens. For some reason, all of this unexpected company in her house and the loyalty and concern they showed for their comrade put her instantly into a good mood. Not knowing the plans of the crew that lingered, she thought it best to make a light breakfast so that everyone could have something on their stomachs. Humming softly to herself, Maeve dug into her flour stores and began to make biscuits. While they baked, she scooped generous teaspoons from her jar of bacon lard and began making a savory sopping sauce for the biscuits. She smiled to herself as she moved about the kitchen, hoping everything smelled at enticing to those hanging about the shop as it did to her.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian dreamed of things long past. Time on the deck of another ship, in a far away sea. His dream was interrupted by protestations from his belly, due to the scent of food finding its way to his nose. He opened his eyes slowly, remembering now where he was. He sat up and stretched his back, arms up over his head. He stopped in mid stretch to see William standing, looking his way.

“Mornin’ cap’n… What news?”

He lowered his arms and stood, shaking off as much sleep as he could. He brushed his coat, trying to smooth out any wrinkles and removed his hat as he noticed the women folk were up and attending to things around the business and residence of Miss O’Treasaigh. William smiled slightly and nodded towards Mister PEW. He lay quietly, breathing deeper than he had been the night before but still not on a lucid state. Dorian looked back to William and nodded in understanding. Again his stomach protested. Looking about more, he noticed Claude was no longer snoring away and he realized he had no idea of the time. He stifled a yawn and gave a slight shudder. With a smile he pardoned himself from the company and headed outside, around the corner and to the back areas of the buildings to find the privy. After relieving the call of nature he returned to the front of the Surgeon’s office and home where he waited out in the morning sun for a time. Not long after he saw Mister Marchande heading up the lane, laden with a large sack and a covered pail. As he approached Dorian greeted him warmly and he offered to help the man with his burden. He took the pail, full of hot coffee and held open the door for the Frenchman. The smell of fresh bread and sweet rolls mingled with that of bacon and biscuits as the two aromas met in the doorway.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Having been released from his duties accompanying Captain Brand, Bill reverted to his status as a Marine. He wandered the thoroughfare and stopped frequently in the public houses to ensure that the fleet's crew kept a proper demeanor. While he of all people certainly begrudged no man nor woman their hard earned leisures, he also new full well the kind of trouble the pursuit of the same could bring on a ships crew. More than once The Dreadnaught had been commissioned by a local governor to see a merchant out of the harbor for other than safety's sake. He resolved not to see the fleet leave under ill terms. For the most part the crew were behaving themselves and merely enjoying the time ashore after weeks at sea. That is until he reached the door of the rather appropriately named Le Poney qui pisse. The assault on his olfactory senses nearly turned him away and challenged his fortitude mightily. The decision of whether to risk entry or no was made for him as the door gave way and pair of bodies rolled out and stopped at his feet in a flurry of fisticuffs, twisting over each other like a pair of snakes writhing in the street. The Redlegs stooped and hauled the two to their feet by their shirt fronts. He lifted them bodily off Terra Firma so that each was was standing upon the tips of his toes and struggling to remain so. Upon closer inspection he found himself faced with Jonas McCormick and Cyrus O' Madden. They in turn most certainly recognized him. The two Englishmen began to give excuses for the state they were found in, but a sharp hiss told them the big Marine would hear no argument and that they would stand tall before the mast. Bill stopped a small boy passing by and pressed a coin into his hand after eliciting an oath to post haste seek out Captain Lasseter at the house of the Chirurgeon and deliver the message that Mr. Flint intended to return them to the ship and have them confined until such time as they could be dealt with properly. He then turned the two 'round, affixed his mighty grip to their collars and frog marched them along the long path back to the Heron's berth.

[Pew]

I could scarcely hear voices, but knew them to be familiar. Rolling to one side, I tried to open my eyes, but was protested by some unseen force within me. A simple wince and I rolled again on my back, only to reengage the handmaidens in dream back upon our neighbors farm.

[Black Syren]

A yawn was given as morning steadily broke over the horizon gilding the waters to red and orange as the sun marched to his glorious throne in the heavens. A growl of her belly reminding her to eat and a shift of her bottom upon the hard seat she occupied gave her cause to wince. Raising her hands high she arched her back to stretch and stifled the urge to rub her posterior and shifted yet again.

Glancing down she could see Argus still where she had left him and yet he was sitting up staring out over the rail watching a pod of dolphins that had entered the bay. Rubbing at her eyes she looked back to the ship Tudor had had them watch and noticed a glint of light and raised her spyglass and noted that their lookouts were keeping watch over them as well.

Tucking her glass down beside her she brushed her hair from her face as the winds began to playfully pick up and the cry of gulls gave voice to the morning. So the question was…Why were they so interested in the Watch Dog…and better yet who were they.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Tudor continued to pace the decks, on the odd occasion pulling one of the powder monkies from their daily chores to run below and get her more dark coffee.

After one such delivery, she decided to take her leisure with the warm brew, and leaned herself against the rail of the deck, resting the mug next to her, her narrow grey eyes taking in every detail. She was pleased with how smoothly everything was running, even with the chaos that had ensued with the trading merchants. But still, she could not take her mind off the man watching them from across the waters. She knew the lookouts were aloft and alert and would not miss even the slightest hint of hostility. But she wasn't sure if hostility was what this ship intended. And that precisely, the fact that she could not predicted their motives, is what made her uneasy. Casually she pulled out the small, rarely used spyglass attached to her belt and subtely scanned first the waves, then the shore, then the ship taking in it's size and firepower with the quickest of glances, and then she turned her gaze to the waves again.

She wished she could take a long enough look at the man who stood on deck, to judge who and what he was, but that would arouse too much suspicion. And so she contened herself with organising strategies in her head of best courses of action if words of warning should come down from aloft.

[William Brand]

Aboard the Navarra

"Es una mujer..."

"Sí."

"Pero...una mujer, sir...?"

The man did not offer any answer to this repeated and meaningless observation. He had already noted for himself that a woman commanded the quarterdeck of the unusual frigate. He had also noted another aloft on the same ship, armed with glass and musket. The smaller cutter in the frigate's company seemed to be under the command of a man for the present, but the larger fluyt laying at anchor with the other two ships, was in the midst of repairs under the ministrations of yet another woman.

He shook his head, passing the glass to his perplexed inferior. He replaced his hat and was in the act of turning once more to the great cabin of the merchant ship, when a man of considerable girth for his diminutive height came rushing up to him.

"Teniente!" cried the stout man.

"Sir!", the younger man returned, snapping off a sharp salute and a quick conference passed between the two men as a boat was lowered away to starboard. This act of departure did not go unnoticed aboard the Watch Dog, as the boat had been lowered in just such a fashion for the intention of catching their attention. The captain of the merchant ship ordered it out thus and sent the lieutenant down into it that he might cross to the frigate bearing gifts.

Miss Tribbiani announced the all too obvious approach, as it was her duty to do so, though Tudor could not have missed such an arrival, having watched the stranger for the better part of an hour. Still, she sent up her thanks and called hands to the Larboard rails, going to the rail of the quarterdeck herself.

The small boat which bore across the open space between that fleet and their's was as fine a boat as Tudor had ever seen. It was comprised of many fine woods, and even if it had it not been, the gold gilding of the small craft would have been enough to make it a valuable boat alone. It was fitted with a higher prow than was necessary for such a small boat, but it served to give the man at the bow of it better purchase, for he stood at the front of the boat and seemed not to notice the rocking of it.

The man who stood there was young, but not a youth. Tudor could see that he was taller than herself, but not of a great height. He was dark enough in countenance and the color of his hair that his appearance belied some mediterranean decent and the cut of his clothing was decidedly Spanish in origin. He wore no firearm to speak of, but he carried a long delicate blade which was uncommonly long for sea service. Something about his bearing spoke of high courts, or at the least, high associations. At first he looked all business and there was no pleasure to speak of on his face, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he was at once the smiling face of diplomacy.

"Are you English?" he asked, but before Tudor could answer he continued, "I heard your woman there..." he said gesturing upwards to Treasure "...across the water."

"We are of many islands." Tudor returned, and her tone was pleasant enough, though what passed for a smile on her face would not have inspired many painters. She was guarded and careful and the man was forced to start again.

"I come here at the behest of my master, Capitán Eustaquio Alano Avendano. He bids me give you this..." the young man said, offering a hefty bottle of some Spanish vintage. "We are come from Navarra on a ship of that same name."

This caused an appreciative reaction from a few crew members, for Navarra was known. Well known in fact, for the region produced some of the finest vineyards to be had in the Old World, and as a consequence, some of the finest wine. It was a region of rich history and rich exports.

"Permission to come aboard, good lady?" the man said, pressing on. Tudor granted him audience.

And so it was that Lieutenant De la Cruz of the Navarra came to the Watch Dog at four bells of the forenoon watch on July 31, 1704. He carried with him wine, friendship and the unforeseen promise of death to come.

July 31, 1704

Four bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Black Syren]

Treasure immediately bristled at his words and growled low in her throat shooting Ciaran a speaking glance as they sat above the decks. “I do not like him.” She mouthed causing Ciaran to laugh. “If he were here under false pretenses he would not have given their history and brought forth wine.” He said with appreciation. “Besides you do not trust many men, I doubt if he had come aboard naked and groveling you would view him differently.”

She shifted and eyes flashed with temper and Ciaran held up his hands to show he was teasing. “Well I do not like him, I heard your woman there…across the water…Of course he would! Did he think I would not do my job? And truly who would have such a boat? He is lucky I do not put a little hole in it.” She patted her musket for good measure still mumbling to herself.

However the sudden growling below had her looking down yet again, Argus stood boldly facing the man, ruff bristled and fangs bared. And when animal did not like one ,you knew they were not trustworthy. He could bring all the gifts he wished, the man was trouble. Leaning over the rail making sure she was more highly visible to their guest she caught Argus’s attention and gave him a command by hand and the dog sat though still growled. She also made more than sure their guest knew she was more than armed, she knew which end meant business. Blue green eyes swept over him and while others may be all agog with his gift her eyes were twin tempests of distrust.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - The Chirurgeon's House

William, Dorian, Claude, Eric, Briar and Maeve ate with all of the polite attention and courtesy of recently acquainted strangers. Maeve and Dorian spoke with relative ease, as did the others who had met her before, but true conversation was careful. This did not make the meal awkward, for the small talk flowed easily enough and the fare was excellent. Those foods prepared by Maeve combined with the delicacies fetched by Claude had made for an excellent table that morning and the compliments passed back and forth across the table along with the food.

By three bells they were satiated and by four bells there was a need for wider waistcoats and stays. Eric could not contain an appreciative groan and more than a few of them laughed unconscientious of the protocols or familiarity of the day. This was followed by the first lengthy pause in the conversation, but William chose to fill it.

"Angels of mercy." William said quietly, but emphatically. This caused the two women to smile and look away from him and William was pleased to see the compliment find its mark. He looked at the men of the table and punctuated his next course of action with the long sigh of a man who has business that can no longer wait, no matter the company. "Gentlemen. Ladies. Mister Marchande must fetch me again to prison."

Dorian used this same cue to excuse himself, for there were many needs aboard the Heron that he must see to, and both Captains could not remain away for so long with business to be done.

The whole company stood and exchanged compliments, gratitude and comfortable farewells. William and Dorian both thanked the ladies for their hospitality and their attentions to Mister Pew. They also insisted that a generous amount of coin be left to pay for any required goods necessary to Mister Pew's recovery. Of course the amount they left in the ladies care was exaggerated past needs, but they insisted nonetheless.

"If I may, sirs." Eric Franklin began as they left the table, but William finished Eric's thoughts for him.

"I insist that you stay and bring us word of Mister Pew's recovery, Mister Franklin." William ordered, and so only Eric remained.

Outside the modest shop, William and Dorian clapped hands and wished each other the best in their endeavors for the day, with William and claude off to recruit prisoners for the crews and Dorian bound for the docks and the small fleet. They went their way, each to his duties. Already the day was clear and promised to be hot again, despite the cool of the morning.

Between four and five bells of the Forenoon Watch

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve and Briar cleared the table and brought leftover foods and dirtied dishes to the kitchen. Mr. Franklin, feeling a tad useless, lingered by Mr. Pew's side as the two women went about their tasks. He heard soft conversation and laughter spilling from behind the closed kitchen door as the women worked. With a chagrined sigh, Mr. Franklin drew up a chair and settled himself down, again near Preston. What silliness the two women were speaking of, he decided it was best left unknown. The gossip of ladies was full of barbs and fanciful things, sometimes best left unheard by an unwitting eavesdropper.

In the kitchen, the two friends spoke lightheartedly about the mix of company they'd had this morning, and laughed over the poorer table manners of some. They kept their voices pitched low enough so that when their conversation turned to more private matters, there was no fear of being overheard by Mr. Franklin.

Unfortunately for Eric, there were those who cared not at all whether they were overheard through thin walls. He had to endure what sounded like a disagreement between a husband and his wife next door. She sounded shrill and ill-tempered as he bellowed at her. "Still thy mouth woman!", were words he caught clearly. With one more outburst from the wife, and a slammed door, there was silence once more. Eric smiled to himself. The thin walls reminded him of being home on the Watch Dog. 'Twas too bad though, he thought, that the two ladies had to deal with such ill mannered neighbors.

Maeve interrupted his thoughts by coming out of the kitchen doors, calling back to Briar. "I'll see ta it", she called over her shoulder. Eric turned to watch her as she moved closer to him. She smiled pleasantly as she picked up the filthy pile of Preston's cloths, and heaved a sigh as she inspected them. Turning to Eric, she looked at him a moment. "Yer friend's cloths are a right harrible mess. I'll see about gettin' him a new set". Maeve turned to fish out the needed coin left by the Captain's.

Eric stood up. "No need for that ma'am", he said. "Preston's my friend and I'd probably have an easier time of finding him the right sizes. Besides, Preston's a tad particular", he said with a smirk. Maeve smiled, thinking it would be a great errand for Mr. Franklin to keep him busy and useful. "Ah, what a wonderful idea", she agreed, handing Eric the coin she pulled out for the purchase. She briefly described some of the best shops to patronize, along with careful directions. Eric thanked her and headed out.

Maeve began a thorough cleaning of the shop and house.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

With a mild and hidden bemusement Tudor watched as the officer of The Navarre came aboard, smiling to herself at the sheer confusion that must be felt by these strangers of seeing a woman in control of the deck. She looked aloft to see Miss Tribbiani tense and alert, her weapon even more ready then usual. That, along with the growling of Argus, made her smile even more. No reason for this stranger to think that because women populated the decks of the Dog that it was in a weakened state.

When the spanish officer stood before her, he bowed very properly, to which she returned a sharp, militaristic salute. "Welcome aboard The Watch Dog. I am Tudor Smith, Ship's Steward. I serve the captain directly. He would be here himself to welcome you but some important buisness needed his attention ashore." She explained with a quiet subtley. No good could come from having strangers know that one of their numbers was ill. "As it is, I am ranking officer for the present." He nodded, apparently content with the situation. "Now, sir, you have had my name, and I have had your captain's, but what is your's?" She asked with the smallest of grins.

He responded with a similar expression. "I am Lieutenant De la Cruz. I am very pleased to make your aquaintence." He handed her the bottle he bore.

"Well, well, this is quite a gift you bring." She said with arched brow as she inspected the label. "If you wish to follow me to the Ward room, Lieutenant, perhaps we shall open it and drink to our Captains' health."

And so they adjourned below, Tudor leaving orders to be informed regularly of events on the deck.

She motioned to one of the chairs around the table, inviting Lieutenant De la Cruz to sit as she uncorked the bottle and poured, handing him a large glass and pouring one for herself. "A toast to Captains Avendano and Brand."

"To their health and Commands!" The Lieutenant raised his glass to hers, then took a long sip. Discreetly, so as not to make him aware of her intentions, she waited until he had first drank before she took a taste of her own. A lesson learned many years past; the bottle may apear as one thing, old and fine but any bottle can be refilled with a more leathal brew and recorked to look innocent. She sat down across from him, her stance casual as she continued to drink, enjoying the bouquet of the wine. "So, tell me Lieutenant De la Cruz, what brings you to my ship."

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin found herself rushing to the market just after the church bell struck ten in the morning. Her sleep last night was short and broken with interruptions both physical and mental. She had wanted to get to the church and light a candle before heading to the ship and hoped that Nathan would allow her this one indulgence in their late morning together. The events of the night before kept playing through her mind. As irresistible as the romance with the carpenter was she would need to restrain her emotion while they served on the same crew. They would need to remain friends only. She had also hoped to speak to him about the situation this morning but he was not to be found at the Le Chateau Anse. As for Nathan, he is a kind and caring lad and Murin held herself in contempt for having hurt him. Thinking of the two men it was better that she did not make a choice, both were good men.

Nathan and she had much in common having been plucked from their homeland and tossed into service by the English. No family to speak of. However, Nathan could return to his family if he wished. Murin would be throw into prison and shipped off once again if she returned to her home. She valued the support he had given her in the past two weeks and everything he had taught her about the Watch Dog. She liked the lad, he and Billy Flint had become her constant companions until Billy was sent to work on the Heron. Then she and Nathan would spend hours both on and off watch together. He was pleasant to be with and made her laugh. She thought back to the one time when he held her gaze with those dark eyes, the only time she thought of him as more than a brother keeping him at arms length because they worked on the same ship. How confused she was now!

Alder, though more years her senior than Nathan, caught her eye more quickly than Nate and the attraction was undeniable and mutual. His talent with wood and his knowledge of so many things shone through everything he did and shared. He reminded her of Aiden in coloring, size, strength and age, perhaps there was the reason for the instant attraction on her part, perhaps. The carpenter differed from Aiden also. He was educated and well mannered, those things that until she had been working in the mansion at the plantation she never took note of and in fact would make fun of in her life before. So much had changed. She enjoyed his company and he made her feel that giddy feeling of a lass last evening into the wee hours of the morning when they were forced to part company, like she had never been sent from her country by the English. He was English. Most likely from money. She should not allow herself to be swept away. Her head told her that he could be interested in her as a new play thing to be discarded with his next whim.

Her heart knew that was not so, but she needed to steel herself against this unwise relationship or perhaps lose her new found home on the Watch Dog. Her needs as a woman would be best met any place other than with a crew member of the same vessel.

She stood searching the square for Nathan.

[Black Syren]

Siren grumbled as Tudor took him to the Ward Room and tapped her fingers upon the rail, she should have signaled Argus to follow, but she was unsure the pup would remember that command as it took her most of the remaining day to sit and stay.

Still she peered intently towards the deck below and gritted her teeth as Ciaran chuckled. “Laugh if ye will but that is a good looking devil..and devil is exactly what he is.” She shifted warily and then looked back towards the other ship and raised her glass yet again and boldly watched the other ship.

Setting aside her spyglass she tossed her long hair back and began to braid it then tuck it beneath her shirt for she had nothing to tie it with. Then warily looked down to the deck again and nibbled on her lower lip. Then settled back to wait, and watch..

[William Brand]

"I am Roldán Zubizarreta Rey Guerrero De la Cruz." he said, choosing to reintroduce himself with a formality that came across was more frank and less boast. "Lieutenant to his most Catholic Majesty under the command of Capitán Eustaquio Alano Avendano of the merchant ship Navarra...and your humble servant."

Tudor nodded with a careful politeness and sipped her wine.

"We are recently come from Spain and we are newcomers to the politics of these shores." he explained, moving from answer to question with a direct and practiced ease. "Are you fast friends of the French?"

Tudor watched him speak and wondered that the man should not demonstrate more pause in his looks, for the Lieutenant had showed little surprise to be welcomed aboard the frigate by a woman. Any discomfort he might be feeling now did not show in his face. Rather, he treated her as well as he might have treated any man in the same position and Tudor enjoyed the moment. Other men had come and gone during her time on the quarterdeck, but only the Lieutenant had demonstrated true recognition of office over gender. She also noted his special attention to English both in use of words and accent. His speech was free of all the common aspects of one who has taken on a second language, for while she could her the Spanish undertones in his speech, his English was clear and precise. He used it as easily as he might use the rapier he carried and she did not doubt that he could.

"We have been shown some favor." she said, keeping her answer brief. The Lieutenant smiled appreciatively, and she noted how he noted her guarded answers.

"My Captain would dine with your Captain." he said, sipping from his own glass.

"Would he?" she returned, raising an eyebrow again.

"Yes."

"As I stated, the Captain is not aboard at present."

"Nevertheless, if you would be so kind as to extend my master's invitation."

"I will." Tudor agreed.

"This invitation extends to you, of course, and any officers of your Captain's choosing, Miss Smith." he added, smiling.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

"That is very gracious of Captain Avendano, and while I can not formally speak for my Captain as regards what invitations he accepts and refueses, I am inclined to believe that he is more likely to accept then not." She said, swirling the wine gently in the goblet. Her tone remained casual, as did her posture.

"I understand, of course."

She wasn't sure what to make of the man that sat across from her. While she enjoyed the obvious respect he gave her position, it set her on her guard. No gentleman of any royal navy ever took her so well at ease. She would watch every move he made.

Unsure of whether or not she should continue to gently probe into his intentions verbally, she stood, reached for the bottle of wine an refilled his glass as any good host would. "So tell me De la Cruz, what brings you into these waters?" She asked a general question, just into an attempt to keep conversation flowing.

[William Brand]

"My business is that of my master, and he, and only he, can speak of it. To say more would betray his confidences." The Lieutenant returned, and he said this with no hesitation or care. It was just a matter of course, for he was his Captain's man as much as Tudor was Brand's Steward. "Perhaps, if I may, I will speak of my own expectations beyond the Navarra...?"

"It was not my intention to learn the Navarra's business." Tudor returned, smiling.

"Then I shall tell you of my own designs. I am born to some grandeur which is mine by birth alone, and not of my own making. It is a goodly sum, but much of this falls to my brothers before me, and as I am but an understudy in their shadows, left to what inheritances remain for me once they have fallen from the greater table, I am compelled to seek out the corners of Earth that I might find my own place in the world. When I have completed all of my immediate duties to crown, country and Captain, I mean to make a great place for myself in the wilderness. Art, Music, literature and cultivation shall be the watchwords of my small world within worlds. I shall bring all that is good and noble of the Old World to the New World." There could be no mistaking the enthusiasm of his expectations. His eyes, dark as they were, shone with the animated light of the adventurer whose gaze rests upon legacies to come. "I..." he paused and he laughed. "I am impassioned by my purposes. Your pardon, please." He sipped his drink, and for a moment the fire was partially extinguished by the present duties and conversation.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

She lifted the goblet to him in salute. "I have known many like you, Lieutenenant. Many of such are numbered amongst my closest friends. It can be a very hard thing, I believe, to see your kindred recieve easily what you must sweat and bleed for. And I must say I am envious of your desire to build such a haven for yourself. I find, as much as I wished that I toiled to such an end, that such a place could be nothing more then a temporary retreat for me. I am forever chained to my path, and labour for it's own sake, and to no higher purpose then to exisit," She paused to sip from the wine "and find what small pleasues I may." She finished her response to his words, almost silently challenging him to make sense of her own.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Ward Room of the Watch Dog

"Then...to what small pleasures we may." he said smiling, and he raised his glass in a toast and drank it dry. "Now, Miss Smith, you will forgive me the brief respite from the heat, and your pleasant company, but I must return to the Navarra. The tasks given me this day are pressing." He stood then, and bowed as before, and so formal was his departure that he might have kissed her hand had she offered it, but she was still gaurded.

It was not that he was not charming, courtly as he might be, but it was something else entirely. And then she understood. When he rose from his bow there was something about the way his eyes lingered upon the floor.

'He's just made note of the gunnery compartment beneath us...' she thought, marveling at the revelation. Then she realized his assessments of the room had gone on since his arrival. His eyes had lingered a half moment too long on the damaged windows of the stern. His gaze had drifted more than once to the new seams and paint of the quarter galley. He had marked down in his mind where the narrow windows met the quarterdeck and the placement of the aft companionway. His eyes had even fallen upon those personal articles belonging to Captain Brand.

Lieutenant Roldán Zubizarreta Rey Guerrero De la Cruz had been cataloging the 'Dog since coming aboard.

"Thank you for sharing the Captain's gift, Miss Smith. It was most refreshing."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter had made his way to the wharf and found the Herons’ boat waiting and crewed as if someone had spied him coming from a ways off. He looked at the crewmen aboard, who sat at attention, sweeps held just so. Mister Johnson sat in the sternsheets and stood, knuckled his forelock and bade the captain to board and be ferried to his ship. Dorian nodded his assent and stepped aboard, his mind working through ideas of what had brought on this pomp and circumstance. He remained quiet for the duration of the trip, yet one look to the Heron told him what this was all about. You could not miss the glint of sunlight off of the new brass guns. He started to smile and checked himself, he was proud of his crew as they must have worked through the night to make the ship just so. As they bumped along side, a bo’sun call shrilled as his head came level with the deck. There stood every crewman on duty, waiting to receive their captain. Mister Brisbane stepped forward and saluted him.

“Welcome aboard Captain, we hope yer time ashore was fruitful.”

“Thank you Mister Brisbane, it was… I see you’ve kept th’ men busy whilst I was away.”

“Aye Sir, I did.”

“Lets ‘ave a look about, shall we?”

“Aye-aye.”

Dorian and Nigel took a tour of the deck amidst the men who still stood at attention. Captain Lasseter noted the weariness of each, knowing the feat they had accomplished to please him. He could not help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of the brass great guns in place of the smaller iron guns she was armed with a day before. The ship looked ready for imminent action, aside from burning slow-match and an adversary off her bow. Dorian made his way back to the quarterdeck and turned to face the crew.

“You… All of you… A fine job, no… a grande job… Ye humble me greatly… I am proud ta be yer captain, an’ hope I may live up to th’ honour. Mister Brisbane! See to it tha’ all get a double ration o’ spirits, an’ a well deserved rest. I have th’ deck an’ th’ watch…”

All around him, the crew gave a great ‘huzzah’ and many threw hats and such into the air. Dorian smiled openly at them and chuckled at their frivolity. Nigel grabbed two lads near by and had them bring up a cask of spirits, open it infront of all as they lined up for their share.

[Tudor MercWench Smith]

Standing on the quaterdeck, Tudor watched De la Cruz return to his own ship, her expression stoney as she watched. She did not truely expect serious repercussions to come from this scouting expedition, but she would be a fool to not prepair and prevent against them. "And never let it be said that I am a fool." She whispered to herself, then flew into an organised action, seeing to it that word was spread to every memeber of crew aboard to be alert and prepaired, not to make ready for battle, but to make sure no one was without a weapon close at hand. "MISS TRIBBIANI! CIARAN!" She called aloft to Siren. "I want a report of every movement the crew on that ship makes. I don't want the captain going to the poop deck without my knowing about it! I will be watching from here as well!" She ordered, then settled herself onto the rail of the quater deck, squinting against the sun, seeing the spanish Lieutenant climbing aboard his own ship, and watching him make his way below, obstensibly to report to the captain.

"You've made your first move. Do not think that my reaction will be to move rashly in response." She continued to talk, as if the crew across the wave could hear her. Training from ages past ehoed in her mind, 'Do not make a descion for action before looking at the lay of the land. Do not rush to a fight without looking at the issue from all angles. Do not decide anything without observing all possible arguments and outcomes, then when all is considered, decide which course will cause the least damage with the most reward. And so she observed.

Edited January 10, 2011 by MercenaryWench

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough stood in the center of the square waiting for Nathan Bly. Her thoughts rushed about inside her head, "E'fergot? E's still angry. Kent blame em. Kent believe I'd'diss t'um. Kept em at a distance cuz we err workin on d'Dog t'geter but I nil saw a problems that cavorting with the carpenter?! Naten wouldn't jus leave mae ere widout a good reason." She stopped the unconscious pacing she had been doing while looking around the square. She mumbeled to herself, "Is there another square in the town that I am unaware of?" Looking up again she located a nearby vendor. "Where could he be?" Leaving her belongings not four feet away she went to the vendor and asked "Pardon, Is dere anutter square in Marrtanique?" Whatever the merchant was about to say was lost as another roughly tugged at her sleeve and frantically pointed to where she had stood just moments before. There was a youngster, perhaps 9 years of age making off with the small bundle that had been perched on the top of her belongings! "Oi! Come back ere!"

[Black Syren]

As Ciaran and herself were hailed she sent a speaking glance to Ciaran, then quickly tugged her forleock..’Aye!” she shouted back down. “Bloody blighters, just wot be ye up to eh?” She pulled her glass again and once more took in the deck and scoured the shadows but could not see the Captain, at least not yet.

There was languid movement on the ship and as soon as their “guest” arrived back upon his own ship she took note of who made their way over to him then he quickly went down she assumed to report to his captain.

It was apparent that Tudor had either been offended or had perceived the man's evilness..but either way she was glad he was gone off the Dog, movement aboard the Heron had her glancing briefly that way taking in Captain Dorian's return then back to the Navarra....there seemed to be nothing harried or hurried, ship life seemed the same there as it was on the Dog.

[William Brand]

The young sneak thief had gained full sprint and was well on his way to escaping the encumbered tailor. He dodged two immediate strangers who attempted to halt his retreat and managed to make his way into the thickening crowds. Then he chanced to glance over his shoulder with the grin of the catbird, but his joy proved premature.

Alain Roux was coming out of a bakery off the plaza just as the young pick pocket bore down upon him. Perhaps it was instinct, quickness of thought or just a reminder of his own misspent youth, but Alain saw something in the lad that made him stick out his foot as casually as a man stretching his legs from a nap and the boy went sprawling.

What followed was the most profound din of cursing and caterwauling that Alain had heard in years, for the boy dashed out his two two teeth on the cobbles and did no small amount of damage to one elbow. He rolled over clutching his face and howling between spats of pain and profanity. Alain's pleasure at stopping the thief was immediately replaced by the regret at having done the boy so much damage for such a little parcel. He had stolen his share of things in his time, and nothing was worth a good set of teeth. He tongued the place on the right side of his mouth where he was missing two of his own as he picked the boy up from the street, careful to relieve him of the package.

"Désolé, garçon."

Then the boy took a swing at Alain which he easily dodged as he took a coin from his own pocket. The boy delivered a particularly long dissertation in shouts about Alain's mother and father that was delightfully unkind. It was so profoundly awful that Alain actually laughed. The boy had a gift for true foulness.

Murin came running up then and Alain sent the boy away with a round coin and a swift kick.