The Watch Dog

[Red Cat Jenny]

Isle De Generosite Plantation - Martinique

Little Daniel's blond locks felt lightly damp as Jenny brushed them back from the cherubic face. Martin Garaud's son was always warm when he slept. She smiled now at the rose in his cheeks and the look of peace only one so young could wear as they slept. She placed the well worn and greatly favored stuffed rabbit upon a pillow between the boy and his little sister Anna, who slumbered deeply. Jenny had stitched a tiny coat of wool and dressed the beloved toy as a gift. She hoped someday to hear of their reaction to the surprise. Daniel's favorite story was about a rabbit who went to sea and had many adventures. Jenny had made it up one night when the boy was troubled by nightmares. Since that time, he had begged her to retell the story nightly. Naturally his little sister was fascinated with anything her brother found interest in. Much to his chagrin at times. But such are siblings. The rabbit resting between the two children, now bore a fancy coat resembling a somewhat dishevled but dignified ships Captain. He had a navy blue ribbon tied about one long ear matching a favorite chapter in the story. Anna stirred once and Jenny carefully covered the child again, shuddering with emotion at the touch of the young girls hand upon her own. Jenny sat for a very long time trying to keep her heart from breaking at the thought of being so far. Unexplained miles from the two small members of the plantation whom had shown her unconditional love and often filled her with laughter. "I will always love you as my own children" she whispered. "Someday I shall be back for you" Jenny would have spoken more, but she suddenly welled with such emotion that she risked losing her only chance for freedom. She kissed Daniels warm cheek and by way of the back stair, her only chosen belongings in a small sack, Jenny Ashcombe slipped into the humid night and away from the plantation she had called home. First willingly , then reluctantly, now..never again.

[Silkie McDonough]

Alan sat quietly as he watched Treasure work her magic with the lad. She was indeed skilled. When she had finished she left Alan in the waning light to purchase his shoes. His was a simple purchase, one pair of mans shoes with a silver buckle. The young clerk brought forth such a pair. Alan lifted the kitten from his lap and placed it gingerly on the floor while the clerk helped with the shoes. Alan stood and was delighted they fit well. Down he squatted then up on his toes testing the shoes. The leather was a bit unyielding but still soft and would give more with wear. One stride forward and he tripped over Treasures latest stray as it attacked the frayed hem of his slops. Somehow he managed to avoid hurting the kitten and himself but the poor creature skittered in fear and disappeared under a case of drawers. “You, are trouble!” He chided the kitten.

The sailor walked around the shop for a moment and told the lad he would take the shoes and began to haggle for the price. Mister Woodingtoon was perhaps not as good at charming the lad as Miss Tribiani but he had made any number of shrewd bargains in his life and knew what a fair price would be. The clerk gave very little. Alan raised his offer only slightly but the clerk barley budged on his counter offer. The shoes were not remarkable and Alan could find the same made by every cobbler in town, yet the lad refused to lower his price. Woodington then realized, the clerk had undersold the shoes to Treasure and was trying to make some of it on this sale! Nay, he enjoyed watching the lady manipulate the unknowing clerk but he was not about to pay more for the shoes than their worth just for that pleasure. Alan sat and removed the shoes then handed them to the clerk. “I k’not pay what you are askin” It was not the price, Alan had the coin but the clerk must have thought Alan as naive as the boy himself to think he could fetch such a price for these shoes.

Alan slid on his old shoes and looked around for the kitten. A pair of shinny eyes was peering from beneath the case he had crawled under. “Come on little one.”, but as Alan reached for the feline it skittered further under the case and out of reach. Rolling his eyes Alan got down on his knees and began to try to coax the trouble maker out. It was at this point Miss Tribianni returned to the shop. Her laughter peeled forth at the sight of her crewmate, tail end in the air, his fingers rubbing together at the front of the case and the whisper of a hiss coming from his lips. Angus came over and began to lick his face and he in turn began a hearty laugh. Rising to his feet he leaned against the case that the kitten was under, shaking his head “That beast is nothing but trouble.” He laughed. Argus sat on command and Treasure began to dangle a bit of twine in front of the kittens hiding place. Soon a paw was batting at it from underneath the case. Then two and within a minuet the little thing was scooped up by the lady and in her arms. “Shall we?” Treasure inquired. “We Shall.” As they reached the door the clerk made a reasonable offer and Alan agreed to it. The shoes were packaged and the sale finalized. As they departed Treasure looked at Alan with a question in her eyes, his returned the answer “Don’t ask!”

By the time the church bells were chiming 7 bells of the evening they had reached the inn and each was enjoying the luxury of a bath. Alan lay there with his pipe enjoying the warm water, in the other room Treasure lay there breathing in the scent of a vanilla soap, both smiling with the simple pleasure of it.

[Black Syren]

The day had been wonderful with the exception of the snake as she slipped out of her shirt, then slowly unlaced her slops letting them slide down her hips to puddle at her feet she hummed her gaze dreamy. Argus and the kitten lay curled up in her bed and she padded over to lean over the tub and trailed a finger in testing the warmth of the water and discovered it quite hot and to her liking. Having already removed her shoes and stockings earlier as they had to wait for the bath to be brought up she slowly stepped within and sighed as she lowered herself into the steamy water.

She settled back against the rim and closed her eyes relaxing in the heat, taking her time for they did not get baths such as this on the Dog. Slowly she sunk beneath the water and only when her lungs needed air did she rise, pushing her long hair from her face and wiping at the water that ran into her eyes. Taking the cake of vanilla soap she worked it into her hair creating a luxurious and sweetly scented lather, again she ducked beneath and rinsed her hair before sitting up and reaching for a small linen cloth Soaping it up she slowly slid the cloth over her arms, then raised one leg at a time enjoying herself. Across the firmness of her belly to dip in her navel and then tilted her head back to savor the soapy linen over her throat then finished and rinsed out the cloth.

Still humming she stood and shivered as the cooler air wafted over her and reached for a bucket of water left and poured it over her head to make sure all the soap was free of the inky sleekness of her hair. Stepping free of the tub she took the lengthy piece of linen left and dried off then sat upon the bed enjoying the privacy as she dropped the linen to the floor and began to comb out her long hair. When it was mostly dry she quickly braided it leaving it to dangle to her hips and quickly went about retrieving clean stockings, and clothing and dressing hastily.

White slops, with a faded red waistcoate, and a white shirt beneath, simple and plain red stockings and her buckle shoes. Taking her key and her purse she bid Argus to stay as he lifted his head and with a grunt lay it back down next to the kitten. Closing and locking the door behind her she could already hear the noise from below, the music playing, a cheerful tune and fiddling with her cuff made her way quickly down to a room filled with men, few women and some very swarthy spaniards.

[Silkie McDonough]

Alan relaxed for some time in the water. It was lukewarm by the time he decided he should perhaps consider washing. He was to meet Miss Tribiani for dinner and wanted to allow the lady time to dress. As he dried and dressed he hoped that he would not be too plain in his simple clothes. She looked so lovely the other day when she lunched with the boy. No matter he was not out to impress the girl just didn’t want to look out of place beside her. He toweled off brushed his hair and tied it at the back of his neck. Pulled on a clean white shirt buttoned the collar, a pair of brown breeches, blue stockings, his new shoes and shrugged on a blue waistcoat buttoning every pewter button. Once his belt was wrapped snugly around his waist he tucked his pistols in place then pulled his baldric over his shoulder allowing his cutlass to hang at his left side. His coin pouch carefully hidden and his key in hand he doffed his old brown hat, pulled the door shut and locked it with a click. Whistling a tune he tucked his key away and headed down the hall to meet Miss Tribianni.

[Black Syren]

Reaching the landing she paused searching the throng of people and frowned not seeing Alan. Perhaps he had dined alone tired of waiting for her hair to dry, or maybe he had fallen asleep in his room. Nibbling at her lower lip she debated moving into the crowded room or going back up, but spotting a table through the smoke and gloom she made her way down.

Halfway across the room her braid was seized and she stilled, slowly she turned and took note of the swarthy hand upon her braid and eyes now glimmering with fire moved slowly from the hand up the arm and locked upon her captor. He spoke in rapid Spanish and the only words she understood was the WatchDog. Keeping her gaze upon dark eyes already glazed with drink she smiled, lowering her lashes slightly and leaned low over the table causing several startled phrases in Spanish. Keeping her eyes upon the one who still held her braid she slowly took his bottle of rum and raised herself back up. Then she put the bottle to her lips, tilted her head and pulled a long draught before lowering it back to the table.

Her voice was cold a black velvet lash of icicles when it came "Accetto le vostre scuse per tale boldness non sono benvenuto." As they sat stunned she reached over and slowly pried his fingers loose from her braid and moved on.

They were silent and then guffaws at her boldness were given to an already noisy room and she hid a grin as she took her chair and turned it about and straddled it. Seeing Alan approaching her smile swept to a grin and she waved him over.

**I accept your apology for such boldness is not welcome..**

[Silkie McDonough]

Alan's grin spread from ear to ear as he watched Syren. He had stood at the landing and saw the entire thing. He almost went to the ladies rescue but it was clear she did not need anyone’s help. Her actions stunned everyone in the room. By the time he reached the table Alan was beaming at her, “Quite a stand.” He sat and leaned back in his chair and signaled for the serving wench

[Black Syren]

She merely arched a brow at him then veiled her expressive eyes behind a thick fringe of lashes "Perhaps, or perhaps it was a very bad thing to do. But it made a point, they know I am of the WatchDog and though I do not care for their diplomat they seem rather jovial though it could be the drink." Again her eyes swept back to them and several bottles were raised in a toast and she inclined her head with all the aloofness she could muster, eyes glittering coldly.

Then her demeanor changed as quick as the sea and her eyes held laughter. "I am starving. I hope tis a rather large meal and tis nice and hot and savory. Perhaps a bottle of wine? My treat?"

[Silkie McDonough]

It was Alan's turn to raise his eyebrow. "I dint say it was a good thing I simply said it was quite a stand. Yes, a very large meal, you exhausted me with the walk, the rescue and all that bloody shopping!" He laughed once again, as the serving wench came to the table and told them of today’s fare.

Once their orders arrived and the wine served, conversation ended. Clearly both had built up an appetite.

[Black Syren]

A single brow was wickedly arched over dancing eyes and she gave a smirk as she stood and turned the chair about to correctly sit and leaned back. “Let me see if I have this straight? I have exhausted you by our walk? And what rescue? You were asleep under the tree, I rescued shadow all by my onesie.” She tried to hide her growing smile and failed at it for the smile bloomed even as she leaned forwards to speak of his last accusation. Here her eyes glinted with mirth and they sparkled in the low light of the Inn as she placed her elbows upon the table and rested her chin in her palm.

“A shopping I might add that you yourself took advantage of, did you not buy a pair of shoes as well?” she teased.

As their meal came she removed her elbows and reached for the wine placed before them and struggled to pop the cork then handed it over to him. “Was never good at popping those, just beware of how you aim it.” She remarked sassily and reached for her silverware as he took the bottle. A small bite of chicken, had her nodding her head “Oh aye this is quite tasty.”

As he poured them both wine they fell into a companionable silence till the meal was finished, the wine bottle polished off between them. Feeling the effects of the wine, she felt almost lazy, quite relaxed. The music was getting better, the night was growing wilder and the wine making her sleepy. Smiling with apology she rose “Forgive me, I fear the wine has made me sleepy and tis getting late, I have much to do on the morrow afore we head back to the ship. Do you need anything from your bag in my room?” When he shook his head and grinned at her she laughed and shook her own head. “Too bed with ye lass.”

Bidding him goodnight she moved slowly through the room, past the crew of the Navarra and up the steps. Reaching her room she unlocked the door to find Argus awaiting her with tail wagging. ‘You must wish for a walk eh?” she muttered then once more left the room locking it and moved down the back stairs and out into the star filled night.

“Hurry Argus and no dilly-dallying. Im very sleepy and we have much to do on the morrow.” She fought a yawn and lost covering her mouth as she had been taught and leaned against the Inn listening to the music before lifting her eyes to the stars and gazing at them. Some moments later Argus returned and they both went up and reaching her room unlocked it again, entered closed and locked it behind her. Kicking off her shoes she bent over to remove her stockings, unbuttoned her waistcoate, shoved the slops off and folded both garments neatly. Unbraiding her hair she rn her fingers through the damp ripples and finally drew the shirt over her head and placed carefully upon a chair, then padded to her bed and seeing the kitted curled on one pillow slipped beneath the covers on the opposite side. As Argus whimpered she called him up and groaned as he took up the rest of the bed. “Goodnight Argus, sleep well.” Then she was slumbering deeply.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Navarra

The conversation aboard the Navarra continued only as a matter of courses, for the subjects and turns of small talk seemed more connected with the various courses of food, than the company. The conversation was not unpleasant, but William and Dorian exchanged more than one guarded and questioning look, for the reason for their invitation to dinner did not become apparent for the first full hour that they were there on the Spanish ship. Still, the dinner and light conversation continued.

When the fourth bell of Second Dog watch was come and gone, Capitán Avendano offered them each a glass of wine from that very region from which the ship herself drew her name, and with the last of the plates cleared, the first true silence fell across the table.

During the pause, Miss Smith took to looking at the Lieutenant, who had shown as much disregard for her over dinner, as he had attention on the Watch Dog. She had arrived prepared to due verbal combat, exchanging and receiving questions in a duel of words, but he had said little over dinner. She was also surprised to find her jewelry and gown somewhat wasted, for he had looked at her very little. His personality seemed to be made of polar opposites, sometimes very gracious, and other times utterly removed. Even now she could see that his mind was elsewhere and she wasn't certain if she was glad of it or disappointed.

"You have many women aboard your ship, Capitán." Capitán Avendano said all at once for no obvious or particular reason.

'Here it is at last.' William thought, for he had waited all evening for some searching question from the Spanish Captain. But in truth, it had not been a question, but a comment so casual that William was unsure how best to answer for a moment. He might have explained in great detail that many of the women aboard were equal to the men in experience, but he simply said, "Aye."

"Do you find this...difficult?" Capitán Avendano asked, seemingly forgetting the presence of Miss Smith.

"Not at all, Captain." William returned, his tone light and conversational. "Our Doctor, Miss Fitzgerald, has saved the lives of several of my crew, including myself."

"You keep a woman doctor..." Ettore Tarín said with a raised eyebrow, but whether the Spanish Doctor meant this as a question or not, William still chose to answer him.

"I do no keep her, but she does keep company with us."

"And this...this...distraction?" Capitán Avendano asked, pressing the conversation forward with more curiosity than any subject spoken of before.

"My people know their duties, sah." William stated simply.

"They know what comes of mistakes." Dorian added.

Capitán Avendano seemed to except this, but he moved to another question without hesitation. "And do these women fight?"

William smiled, and was glad of the question. He was gladder still that Miss Smith should be there, for she was smiling a little too. "Capitán Avendano, you have the pleasure of sharing the company of one Tudor Smith, who, of her own accord, braved the quarterdeck of that great prize ship at anchor with the Watch Dog. It was she who struck the Dutch colors."

"Indeed." said a surprised voice, but it was not the Captain who had spoken. The removed Lieutenant had returned to the conversation at all at once with an appraising look in Tudor's direction.

"Indeed." William returned, and he raised his glass in a subtle, silent gesture of toast before drinking. Dorian did the same opposite the Steward. It was the only time that night that Tudor lowered her eyes, still smiling.

First Bell of First Watch

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

As Dorian drank the salute given to Miss Smith, subtle as it was, he watched the expressions on those Spanish about him. They were a mix of curiosity, admiration, and disbelief. He hid the smile that plucked at his lips by swirling the contents of his glass and inhaling the bouquet. He took another sip and set the glass on the table, keeping his expression neutral as more small talk was made. He also made note of the Lieutenant who found renewed interest in Miss Smith still looking her way intently. He also noted Miss Smith warming up her charm, a tool favoured by the fairer sex, and one that he hoped might bare fruit during the rest of the evening aboard the Spanish vessel.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - Aboard the Navarra on the Cul du Sac Royal

2 bells of First Watch

Dorian was not disappointed.

Not only did Tudor sway the Lieutenant by the use of several, carefully answered questions, she also managed a few inquiries of her own. Within half an hour's time the Lieutenant had given up not one, but several bits of information about the Navarra's most recent anchorages, including several trade ports of West Africa. Even more than this, they learned the name of the Navarra's crippled escort ship, Le Vedette, a French manned ship which had come under fire from the English during the Atlantic crossing.

William used this information to ply Capitán Avendano with a few questions. "What was the size of that force which came against you?"

Capitán Avendano seemed hesitant to answer at first. William guessed that this pause might stem from some embarrassment on his part, but this proved to be wrong. The Navarra and Le Vedette had fought off a surprising host of two sloops and a frigate. Georges Voulet, Captain of Le Vedette had been wounded a total of four times during the engagement and had perished from his wounds just before making anchorage at Martinique. Le Vedette had also witnessed the loss of her Master Gunner, Bosun's Mate and some thirty-seven able seamen. It was likely that several more would be dead within the week.

"And the Navarra's losses, Capitán...?" Tudor asked, and William was glad that the question had come from someone else.

"Twenty-one." Capitán Avendano said simply, and it was impossible to say whether he was glad or not of the small losses against such odds.

"The arithmetic of war." William said solemnly, and Capitán Avendano agreed.

"And...how many have you lost, Capitán?" Avendano asked, then added. "We have seen the prize at anchor."

It wasn't right to say that William was embarrassed just then to admit that he had lost only two in the taking of the Maastricht, but in comparison to the losses of Avendano and Voulet, William thought it might be uncouth to give the exact, and insignificant amount, so he said, "Only a few. We were blessed enough to take them unawares."

"You were fortunate." Avendano said, as solemn in his tone now as William had been before.

"Aye." William, Dorian and even Tudor said together, all of them two aware that two lives lost was as good a victory as anyone might hope for.

What followed was yet another long pause, and perhaps it was fitting to have a moment of silence, given the subject at hand. In the end, it lasted only as long as the next long sip of wine before the Lieutenant plied Miss Smith with another question. "Do you favor the small sword, señora?"

"No, Teniente. I favor minions and sakers, but I prefer a quick surrender most of all."

"Aye." William agreed, and a toast to quick surrenders went round the table.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

As glasses were refilled yet again, Captain Lasseter wondered aloud something that had bothered him.

“Odd that th’ English who attacked you wi’ superior numbers gave up th’ chase. What might you ‘ave thrown at ‘em ta make ‘em do such? Tis not like ‘em ta shy away from such a prize….”

He did not ask it as a challenge, but more of a subtle inquiry, and waited for any who dared to answer it.

[William Brand]

"Capitaine Voulet was..." Avendano began, then he turned to the Lieutenant. "¿cómo usted dice pertinacité?"

"Voulet showed pertinacity..." The Lieutenant explained, then amended. "...no...he was tenacious. He remained on deck despite his injuries."

With the door open to this new line of questions, Tudor pressed forward. "I believe that Captain Lasseter is curious about the tactics of the battle...not the valor."

If the Lieutenant was bothered by her tone or explanation, he did not show it. He simply shrugged, as if the battle was of no consequence to him. The fact that it was won and won alone seemed enough to him and Avendano, but he saw that their guests waited for a response, so he continued. "Voulet fired upon the Navarra."

There were a few subtle changes in everyone's appearance. Dorian nodded and William thought he understood at once, but as a matter of course he said, "I beg your pardon...?"

The Lieutenant simply shrugged a little again and sipped his wine before repeating himself. "Voulet caused the English to think that he was English also. He fired upon the Navarra and the three ships closed upon us with no threat to Le Vedette. When we began to engage these two faster sloops, he fired upon them. He wounded both sloops sufficiently enough as to allow our escape."

The Lieutenant left his narrative here, as if this short explanation was enough to answer the matter in full. The story from end to end was as empty a retelling as any of them had ever heard, but the Lieutenant simply refilled his glass and showed no sign of continuing.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian slowly nodded. He smiled grimly. He picked up his freshly filled glass and offered it up to the Spanish captain and his officers.

“To Cap’n Voulet… An masterful tactician…”

He drank the toast and replaced his glass on the table before anyone else moved. When he looked up from his glass to all faces turned to him. He merely nodded again and let the silence continue.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal

3 bells of First Watch

Dorian's toast, William's solemnity, Tudor's questions or some unknown cue of their hosts suddenly signaled the end of the dinner and conversation. In the end it proved to be as mysterious as the initial invitation, though Dorian and William both had drawn similar conclusions about the evening. One moment they were discussing the Navarra and Le Vedette, and the next they were exchanging farewells and climbing down into the waiting boat.

Once they were away from the Navarra and rowing again to the Heron and 'Dog, Dorian began to voice his thoughts aloud. "She's still heavy laden."

William was looking at the Navarra and he nodded. "Yeees. Still."

Tudor looked between them hoping to understand why this was important to the two Captains, and for a moment she had the devious thought that they were planning to take her a prize, but she shook off this thought. "Do they mean to take the cargo somewhere else?" She asked.

"I believe so, Miss Smith." William returned, squinting at the Navarra now.

"They've come a courtin'." Dorian explained.

"Courting..." Tudor said slowly with an awakening understanding as she too looked back at the Navarra.

"That would be my guess." William agreed. "They have cargo important enough to have had a frégate. Now they have none."

"Then they shall need a...companion again." Tudor said quietly and to no one in particular.

"Aye." Dorian nodded, smiling.

William turned to look at the 'Dog. "Our pedigree is being perused."

Elsewhere in the jungles of Martinique...

Tawny slept his first true sleep since slipping the 'Dog's clutches. He had exhausted himself with the self surgery that had proved to be as much mutilation as medicine. Strangely enough, the man had demonstrated that he was a far better surgeon than a human being, for he had carved out the rot of his face and the worst part of his arm and used fire and ash to both sterilize and tattoo himself simultaneously. Now he was asleep, maybe even snoring.

Adebanke was wide awake.

The night of the Martinique jungle was as warm and loud as any night that had come before. There was little comfort in this din raised by unknown birds, insects and perhaps even night mammals. Adebanke knew very little of the deeper recesses of the island, and had not wanted to. The place had seemed uninviting to a young girl. She had imagined all sorts of monsters within it ever since arriving at the plantation, but now that she had met Tawny she knew that nothing worse could possibly dwell in this place. Even more than this realization was the idea that she was far more mortal now than she believed any other girl of her age might be. Seldom do children come to a full understanding of their fragile lives at such an early age, but Adebanke understood it perfectly. Slumped there against the tree she understood all of this all too well and in that moment she understood something else all at once. The noise of the night was almost absolute.

Tawny lay stretched out on the ground and his snoring, loud as it was, was all but drowned in the noise of the night. She stared at his muted respiration. She had feared that escape was impossible, but hearing that she could hear so little now, she realized two things. One, she could risk escape if escape could be had, and two...if she could find enough courage to escape, she might find enough to kill Tawny.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Heron

He padded across the deck slowly, stopping on occasion to listen to the men talking and watching what they did. He would come up close and rub against a leg and wait for some acknowledgment from the owner. Usually a hand would pat his head or ruff his neck for a short time. After a time he’d move on to another person when the previous one lost interest. After making rounds to most of the crew, avoiding a couple men who were either loud or moved around too much for his liking, he headed to the quarterdeck and jumped up onto the binnacle. It was a perfect spot to look down upon the men. He settled himself there and appeared to doze while the crew worked or walked the deck of the ship. Lucky Tuck walked up to the binnacle and smiled at the Pooka, reached out and scratched the large feline on the head, producing a loud purr. He stopped his attention only to be grabbed by the Pooka and made to continue attending to the cat.

[BriarRose Kildare]

The day had worn on with Maeve and BriarRose taking turns watching their patient. At last as the day came to a close, BriarRose insisted that Maeve get some sleep.

“Go on now. You need your rest more than I do. I will tend to Preston a bit longer and I will soon be following you up the stairs.” Said BriarRose

Bleary eyed, Maeve could only nod and bidding her friend a good night she trudged up the stairs.

Heaving a sigh, Briar turned to the patient to make sure he was comfortable. He had slept most of the day which was a good sign that rest was helping him heal. His fever had only spiked once in the late afternoon. She was content that the patient would soon be over the critical stage, but she also knew he would have a long road to recovery.

Sitting down in a chair beside the surgeon’s table, the candle flame flickered. BriarRose, looked about the room sensing a change yet not quite understanding what she felt. For a moment the air grew cool and the flame seemed to leap high then flicker ominously. She shook her head and stated clearly, “Death shall not come this night. Move on from whence you came from.” The room once again became warm and the air was still once more. Preston heaved a heavy sigh in his sleep. BriarRose sat back in the chair and opened up a book. She would wait a bit before retiring to bed. With that thought in mind, she looked at the patient one more time before she bent her head over the open book and began to read.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704

between 3 and 4 bells of First Watch

William was inclined to speak on the matter further, but the day was gone and he was in need of rest. He was determined to find himself in the prison on the morrow, an idea which made him chuckle overloudly to himself and this drew a look from Dorian and Tudor.

"It's nothing." William said, though it was probably the wine.

Soon the boat bumped softly against the Heron and Dorian departed to the decks of the cutter. He waved them a farewell with his raised hat and with a few words exchanged, they returned to the frigate.

"Would they pay handsomely for such a service, Captain?" Tudor asked as they reached the Watch Dog.

"Almost certainly, given the opulence of our surroundings at dinner." William said, offering her a hand up.

She took it and looked thoughtful, smiling that quiet smile of hers that spoke secret volumes. "I am enjoying the trade."

"So am I, Miss Smith. So am I."

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian turned away from the small boat as it pulled away from the Heron and surveyed his craft. Though weary and full of rich food and wine, he would not be derelict in his duties. He headed aft to the quarterdeck and was amused to see the Coxswain standing and giving attention to the ships cat as he perched on the binnacle.

“Mister Tucker… All is well I am to assume?”

“Aye Sah, all is as it should be.”

Dorian smiled and stroked the cats head.

“Very well… I’ll be in m’cabin… gonna retire in the next hour. Alert me of anything out of the ordinary.”

“Aye Sah”

Lucky Tuck saluted Dorian and the captain turned away, heading below. Once in the ward room he relieved himself of his weapons and outer garments. He poured some fresh water into the basin and splashed his face. Patting off the excess moisture with a linen towel, he hung it on his shoulder and walked to his sea chest with a thought to pull out his razor, but once there he realized how tired he was. It would wait til morning. He instead got out his hammock and blew out all but one candle, took one of the fine pocket pistols with him and settled in for some rest. Soon he was dreaming of a time in a different port, a different time.

[Silkie McDonough]

After watching the sunset Murin went back to the surgery ward. Miss Wardell turned as she entered. Meg stood at one of the open hatches she had been watching the light fade from the sky. Her eyes shown with fear and embarrassment, “Murin, I’m sorry I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid of even the ships cats and I can’t bring myself to face what I will find ashore. He is out there. I know he is.”

“I nil know wot t’tell you lass. He is not on d’dog. We’d know fer sure. “

“Would we? Did we know he was here when he attacked?”

Murin stood silent and shook her head from side to side. “Meg, I dunno much fer bein so far frum home but I do know det the crew uv d’dog will always be round to protect you.”

“In my head I know that but my soul don’t believe it. I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe here with all these men.”

Owen Monahan knocked at the open door and the ladies turned with a start.

“Evenin'.” Owen had been stopping in each night he was on the ship to check on Meg. Meg’s body tensed noticeably. Despite the fact that he was one of the men that helped in her rescue she was uncomfortable in his presence.

"Owen.” Murin smiled but Meg fought not to take a step back.

“Ow r’ye Meg?”

“I’m doin well.”

All three knew that she was not so well at all.

“Ifin ya needs somtin frum town ye jus ask gerl.”

“Aye Owen.”

Mister Monahan nodded his head and exited the room.

Murin watched the lad leave then turned to Meg. “Is there anything I ken do lass?”

“I don’t think there is anything anyone can do Murin.”

“Could ya eat lass?”

“I couldn’t go in there again” Meg indicated the galley across the hall.

“I understawnd but I could bring ya sometin to eat ere. Constance has made a stew wot shouldn’t would match det uv Mister Gage!”

“Thank ye, please.”

Murin left and returned quickly and Meg devoured what was given to her as the two made quite conversation about the days work. Meg had finished and Murin stood to return the bowl to the galley when Captain Brand appeared at the door of the surgery.

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704

4 bells of First Watch

William stood there a moment in the passageway speaking with Tudor. Their voices were pitched low, but not so much that the words Navarra, coin, danger and several other intriguing nouns and adjectives passed into the room. When they were done, William stepped inside the sick ward, hat in hand.

"Good evening, ladies."

"Good evening, Captain." They both returned, each in a very different tone and accent. He nodded, and walked into the room a few feet.

"Am I disturbing you...?"

[Silkie McDonough]

"Nil disturbin us tall capn'" Murin Smiled and nearly curtsied, "We'r jus discussin d'progress uv d'uniforms fer d'Marines. Meg n'Padrig have been a grand elp dey ave!"

Meg stood quietly beside, almost behind Murin, and smiled sheepishly. Murin was not use to acting so confident but she wanted Meg to see that she had no need to fear the men of the Dog.

"Meg ere's got a nack fer sewin she as." Murin wore a broad smile as she tried to make eye contact with the other woman in the ward.

[William Brand]

"Indeed. My many thanks to you both." William smiled warmly enough, but he eyed Murin's hand. Setting his hat on the table he stripped off his coat and tossed it carelessly over a chair.

"Let's see that hand, Miss McDonough." he said as he began rolling up his sleeves.

[Silkie McDonough]

Her hand? She had stopped giving the wound much thought. The pain had become something she simply ignored ...looking at her hand she recalled that she had intended to change the dressing but had never done so. As the captain finished rolling up his sleeve she extended the wounded hand, palm up ready to receive whatever judgment he may pass upon her. She held her hand out to the captain hoping that the wound had not broken open yet again.