The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

The wound was angry from use, but not so much as it had been before, and whether William was bothered by it or not, he said nothing. He simply unwrapped her hand with as a passive and removed an expression as any surgeon might have worn. He peeled the last of the bandage away carefully and set it aside. Then he filled a basin with clean water and washed the wound, ignoring any social propriety that might make Murin uncomfortable. He was mindful of any pain this might cause her at first, but when she demonstrated that pain was something she could bare, he was more thorough.

Part way through this procedure he looked over at Meg and said, "Come here, lass. You should see how to do this if you are to help our Miss McDonough in her labors."

At first, Meg did not move, but remained where she was. Murin was not surprised by this, given Meg's reaction to Owen, but William was not so patient. "Did you not hear me, Miss Wardell?" Meg jumped up at once, coming over quickly, but Murin did not have time to wonder if William was unaware of Meg's feelings of late, for he exchanged a knowing look with the tailor that said much. To his credit, William kept Meg distracted from herself by interchange and explanations, showing her how to clean and dress the wound. Any time that she faltered or appeared to shrink, he would raise his voice just enough to be commanding. By the time he had dressed the wound entirely, Meg looked more her old self than ever, though her old self had been a half starved castaway like Murin when she had come aboard.

"Can you dress that wound as I've shown you, Miss Wardell?" he asked, his face serious.

"I believe so, sah." she said, and William did not seem satisfied with this.

"You believe so?"

"I'm certain I could, sah." she said with more conviction.

"Good, good. That will be all then. Rest your hands and eyes, Miss Wardell. Miss McDonough, I'll speak with you in the Ward Room."

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin was surprised. Smiling at Meg she thanked her then shot her a glance that indicated the question in her mind about captain Brands request to see her in the ward room. Miss McDonough guessed that perhaps Captain Brand wanted to discuss Meg.

[William Brand]

William closed the door to the Ward Room and was pleasantly surprised to find that Tudor had placed a lantern and a basin of water out for his use. Once again he tossed his coat and hat away with little concern for either of them, and it was apparent that the day had been a long one for him. He placed the heel of his left hand under his chin and popped his neck once before turning to face Murin.

"How is it with you, Miss McDonough?" he asked, but before she could answer he shook his head. "The hand is healing well enough, but I want you to take the morrow to rest it. The uniforms can wait. With Mister Pew ashore and the placement of the marines aboard the Heron and 'Dog in question, it seems to me that a little patience is in order. With this in mind, I should like you to cease your labors at this moment and I would like you to go ashore by the first boat available, whether it be noon or not."

He paused here, and whether he wanted her to answer the first question or the orders, he gave no indication. He just stood there regarding her.

[Silkie McDonough]

"Aye sir." The reply was loaded with many unspoken questions and her expression was one of puzzlement. "Capn' I..." She paused, she wanted to go ashore for there she could find Mister Wenge but she felt she should offer to help with some other chore aboard the ship. Nathan was still avoiding her if Billy wasn't on the Heron right now he would be ashore and she could speak to him about Nathan. She would not object to this extra free time. "Capn', I'm concerned fer Meg. D'ya tink deer es somtin I ken do t'elp er?"

[William Brand]

July 31, 1704

"You have done for her what can be done. Let her do your work for the time being. Let her whole day be made of work. She will be the better for it and you will have the day." William was quiet, but only a moment. "You and Meg have seen enough to decide for yourselves if you want to remain here aboard the 'Dog. This is not a dismissal. Your work here has been remarkable, given your all too recent rescue and your injuries, but I won't lie to you. It is a hard life. You have money enough to go ashore and do well ashore. I don't need an answer from you now, Miss McDonough, but you should think on the matter."

There was something in his tone that said that they were finished. Perhaps it was an order that she shouldn't answer now, but it seemed more a favor and perhaps fatigue on his part. Either way she curtsied and he bowed, deep and graceful. The respect he put into the gesture, even in his weariness, spoke volumes. So did the calm and genuine expression upon his face. No further words but 'Cap'n' and 'Miss McDonough' were exchanged as she let herself out of the Ward Room.

William went to his hammock at once and was still undressing as he climbed into it. The rest it promised was too inviting to ignore a moment more.

5 bells of First Watch

[BriarRose Kildare]

Closing the book, BriarRose stood up and stretched. Preston had been sleeping comfortably for quite some time. With one last look at her patient she picked up the candle and headed for the stairs.

Once up stairs she quietly undressed and put on her night gown. Taking her brush from the night stand she unraveled her hair and let the thick coils fall about her shoulders. With a rhythmic motion she began brushing out her long red tresses. Putting aside the brush, BriarRose climbed gently in to bed as not to disturb Maeve from her sleep. Leaning over she blew out the candle and eased her self back upon the pillow. With a satisfied sigh, BriarRose, fell in to a deep sleep.

[William Brand]

In the jungles of Martinique

It took Adebanke one full hour to free herself from the bonds which held her to the tree. Tawny did not stir even once during that time, but she still slipped the last of the cords as carefully as she dared. Her confidence was quickly deteriorating, for she was certain now that her own heartbeat was loud enough to wake the damned, Tawny included.

As for Tawny, he was caught up in a dream about a girl he had once wanted desperately to hurt. The dream was one he had often and he never liked waking from it. He relished it from scene to scene as it played out in his mind, unaware that Adebanke was standing over him with a stone large enough to do him soundly in.

She stood there over him trembling from fear and the weight of the heavy stone. She had found that courage that she thought she wouldn't. Courage to lift the rock over him. Courage to crush him, but now it eroded. There was some unexplainable fear in her that crept up in her spine. It choked her resolve. It melted her physical strength. It was a fear that if she didn't do him in all at once, he would come back to life more terrible than ever. He would simply stand up, gory and terrible and do something worse than her small imagination could conjure. It was an irrational fear of course. One good blow with the jagged, volcanic rock and she and the rest of the world would be rid of him absolutely, but the world wasn't here. It was only her and the monster.

Adebanke set the rock down as carefully as she had picked it up. Her legs were starting to wobble. She turned on them with what strength she had left and began to creep away. She did not run. She did not sprint to safety. She walked as slowly as she could possible manage. The mouse before the slumbering cat.

Her heart was thundering so hard now that she thought she might start screaming soon. Her body was pumped full of adrenaline that she was forced to suppress. She could only hear it because it thundered in her ears. And still she crept, repeating the same mantra over and over in her mind.

"Don't run. Don't run. Don't run."

Then Tawny rolled over. Just that. He didn't wake. He didn't open his eyes. He just rolled over in his sleep.

By the time Tawny had settled again into dreams, Adebanke had sprinted off blindly into the night some crossing more distance in a few heartbeats than she had ever managed in all her young years.

She did not stop running for almost half an hour.

[Dorian Lasseter]

1 August 1704

Four Bells of the Morning Watch

Dorian had waked at first light as it streamed into the ward room of the Heron. He lay in his hammock and listened to the sounds of the ship and crew. He jumped as the pooka hopped up onto his chest, startling him. He began to scratch the cat behind the ears as the feline settled onto his chest. Captain Lasseter shifted his pistol to his side so he had more room. Even though the cat purred loudly, Dorian could still hear the workings of his ship. All sounded at rest above and below. A breeze came with the lightening of the sky and the Heron swung on her hook, turning bow into the wind like a weathervane. He knew every ship in the bay turned likewise. As the bells struck above four times, he decided it was time to roll out. He gentle lifted the feline off his chest and rolled out of his hammock, bent down and placed the animal on the deck, scruffed his head once more and stood tall, stretching his back. He then went through the morning routine and readied himself for a new day. Many things were on his list to do, one of which was a visit to the Master-at-Arms ashore.

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose awoke with a start. The dream had come again. Closing her eyes, she tried to will the remnants of the dream away. She was safe. He would not find her. She willed herself to breathe normally. Next to her, Maeve continued to sleep. Her rhythmic breathing eased the last shreds of fear from BriarRose. The sun’s rays glistened through the curtains. Unable to sleep any more, BriarRose quietly got out of bed. Putting on her robe, she went downstairs to check on their patient

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter had summoned Miss Moore for a bowl of hot water so he might shave. While he waited for her return, he pulled out a clean shirt, slops, and stockings. All the while the Pooka watched him. When Dorian was still, he padded over and rubbed his head against one of the captain’s legs, hoping for more attention. When it did not come, he chose to press his wet nose against the leg he had rubbed, which caused a better reaction.

“Gah! Ye rascal, ‘ow is it that yer nose can be so cold?”

Dorian reached down and gave the feline some attention until he threw himself on the ground, waiting for the man to rub his belly. Dorian chuckled and straightened, going back to his former business. Pooka laid there for a moment longer, purring. Seeing his wish would not be fulfilled, he rolled over and stood, and walked over to the chair and began rubbing his face on a leg. Callie returned with the hot water and Dorian thanked her, asking what was the morning fare. Slightly flustered, she thought for a moment.

“Ah, Captain sir, I’ve not yet started the meal. I have started some coffee. “

She wore a look hoping he would not be cross. Dorian slowly sighed.

“I see. Go on then and get something in th’ pot. Th’ crew’ll want a good meal soon enough. Find me a spot o’ tea as well.”

“Aye Captain!”

Callie scampered off to her domain. Dorian stood and watched her go, when she was gone he smiled and slowly shook his head. He looked to the pot of hot water she had left and ran a hand across his chin. He walked the short distance to his chest and opened the lid. Removing his shave kit and mirror, he closed the lid and walked to the table. There he readied himself for a shave. He dipped his brush into the water and moistened the shave soap. He did this a couple times until a good lather was produced. He then carefully dipped a piece of linen into the water and squeezed it out gently. He spread this on his face for a time, then laid it aside. He took up the lathered brush and began to apply sudsy soap to his whiskers. Once his whiskers were covered he took up the mirror and hung it on a bulkhead where the sunlight was best. He examined his application of lather and finding a spot not covered to his liking, took up the brush and applied more lather. He pulled out his razor and carefully thumbed the edge. Narrowing his eyes as he did so, he nodded and took up one of his belts. He hung the buckle on a hook and stretched the leather tightly. He stroked the razor across the smooth leather several times until he was satisfied. Released the belt and again thumbed the edge. A small nod indicated his approval. As he walked to the mirror, Callie appeared with a steaming mug. He bid her to place it on the table and thanked her. He took up the piece of linen and draped it on his left arm and approached his reflection. Dorian took in a slow breath and with his left hand drew tight the skin on his right cheek. Up came the razor and he made his first stroke.

Six Bells of the Morning Watch

[Red Cat Jenny]

Isle De Generosite Plantation - Martinique

A timid knock came at the door of Martin Garaud's private parlour. He ignored it as he sat at his desk, going over the business of sales and trade in preparation for his meeting several miles away. He'd risen early working through much of the morning as he was to travel by coach to a further port.

The knock came again and he closed his eyes "Come" he spat. Martin detested timidity in people. Weakness evident was to him like a foul odor to be cleansed away or it's source discarded.

Two servants, plainly dressed entered the large room through it's double doors. The man Bennett, carried only his hat in his hands and his wife, a kitchen maid followed slightly behind. Neither spoke as they approached the large, carved edifice of his desk and stood at a respectable distance. Garaud softened slightly at the woman whose sparkling eyes and rubicant complexion reminded him as always, of better days when she had daily tended to his late wife. The woman Abagail had been so fond of, seemed to carry some indistinct esence of that past with her. However he never made this evident. Martin continued to work and bade them to speak with a wave of his hand, his concentration only broken when he heard Jenny's name.

He slowly placed the quill on it's stand and looked across at the pair. "You are telling me she is nowhere to be found?" He tried to steel his emotions as the ire grew in his chest. "Sir" the woman emboldened only by concern for the girl spoke up. "Miss Ashcombe hasn't been seen for better than a day." She paused " The poor lass. she was quite upset by something last I saw her. I inquired after her, but she only ran up the stairs to her room." The woman did not mention the bruise which covered the girl's cheek. Her voice wavered a bit and her husband placed a hand to her elbow. He stepped forward a pace, gripping the woolen cap more tightly. "Sir, we have searched the grounds and the dogs have found nothing out of the ordinary. We are concerned for her welfare and thought you should know. It may be of no consequence...but with the recent murder.."

Garaud bit the inside of his cheek. The insolent chit had defied him. This was beyond the scope of his tolerance.

"Find her then!" He gestured angrily, the violent movement overturning an ink bottle which spilled out across the contents of the desk. He grasped at the papers there, but was too late. Martin Garaud's privately schooled hand was heavily obscured by black India. The hours of careful and deliberate calculations and compendium obliterated as the ink quickly soaked into the fine parchment.

He looked coldly across the desk at the pair and Bennett, moving only the muscles he dared, grasped his wife slowly by the elbow. "Aye" was all he said. Eyes lowered to his hat. It came out as a rough whisper..and they left the room slowly, closing the heavy double door with a single click which sounded all too final.

The cold of the ink dripped, staining his fingers. Releasing a gutteral swear through clenched teeth, Martin Garaud flung the contents off his desk in a rage. An ornate wooden box which held a purse available for unplanned needs and household expenses was among the items. The sum of its contents large enough to be considered riches to the common man. It was kept under lock and key. Jenny wore one of the keys about her neck at all times as she was charged with some smaller accounting in running the household as well as the welfare of the children in his increasingly longer absences. Martin held the only other. The box glanced off a cast statue of a hound, which sat obediently and silently at his feet, as did most of the people in his employ or acquaintance. The latch was loosed as the box struck heavily against the iron.

Garaud stood stunned for a moment, then picked up the case which was barren of it's contents. He spoke, words laced with such leaden hatred, were they obejcts they would surely have fallen heavily to the floor. Scattered amongst the ink stained morass that had become of the orderly trappings of his desk. Mimicking the growing discord in the orderly trappings of his life. His knuckles whitened as his grip threatened the wood "Ye'll not live to spend it...dear niece.." Garaud flung the box to the floor splintering the last physical vestige of his trust in her and stormed out the door calling for Saint James.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian had finished shaving and dressing, with only a couple interruptions by the Pooka, and no damage done to his face while shaving. He had bathed in the now warm pot of water after shaving, then dressed in his clean clothes. Heading on deck Dorian addressed the Boatswain.

“Mister Tucker, a fine morn?”

“Aye Cap’n, tis a cool morn thus far. Might have a bit o’ rain later though, looks ta be clouds a-formin’ yonder.”

He pointed across the bay east. Dorian shaded his eyes from the morning sun and saw what the Boatswain saw. There was a red haze and what appeared to be clouds forming.

“Aye, ye be right… Have Jameson keep a sharp eye on th’ weather. I’ll be headed ashore ta check on Mister PEW, among other issues at hand. Please have the ships boat ready shortly.”

Mister Tucker knuckled his forelock and moved to the waist and got Brocke and Press to man the sweeps of the boat. Dorian climbed down into the boat and ordered the men to row to the Watch Dog first then to shore. The short distance was spanned to the Frigate, where Captain Lasseter informed the watch of where he would be, to inform Captain Brand of such. Once his message was delivered, He headed to shore.

1 August, 1704

Eight Bells of the Morning Watch

Fort Royal, Martinique

[BriarRose Kildare]

After checking on their patient, BriarRose, went back up stairs to get dressed. Quietly as not to wake Maeve, she donned her clothes and brushed her hair out. Splashing water on her face from the basin on the dresser she looked at her self in the mirror after drying off her face with a cloth towel. Her gleaming red hair framed her heart shaped face. There were slight smudges of gray beneath her blue-green eyes indicating that she had not gotten enough rested sleep. Pinching her cheeks to give her a bit of color she smiled at herself in the mirror as she pulled her hair back tying it securely with a black ribbon.

Turning around she quietly went down the stairs. Once down the steps she went straight to the kitchen to boil some water for tea. There were still embers in the fire place that she gently stoked bringing the fire to life once more. After setting the pot of water up on the hook above the fire BriarRose went to the cupboard to get out a mug and the canister of tea and the canister of sugar. Once the water began to boil she carefully poured the hot water in to the mug. “Nothing like a nice hot cup of tea in the morning, “Briar said to herself as she savored the aroma of the tea.

With a steaming mug in hand she went out to the main room where there was a small desk. Sitting down BriarRose took a sheet of paper and dabbing the quill pen in to the ink well she began to make a list of items that she required for her apothecary kit.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Before first bell of Forenoon Watch

A solitary knock came at the Ward Room door and Mister Morgan put his head in at the doorway. "Pardon, sah, but Captain Lasseter sends his regards. He's putting into shore to see Mister Pew and to do what ship's business as he has ashore."

"Is he gone already from the Heron, Mister Morgan?" William said without looking up from his ledgers.

"Aye. And come and gone from the 'Dog, sah."

William looked up a moment and nodded. "Damn. Well, very good Mister Morgan. See that the longboat is swung out and have Claude Marchande standing ready."

"Sorry, sah, but Mister Marchande is ashore just now. Larboard Wa..."

"Aye." William returned. "Of course. And Jannes Kampaert will be ashore as well, then..."

"Aye, sah."

"What man aboard can speak French?"

Mister Morgan thought on the matter awhile, careful to consider anyone who might serve. "The new man, Jean Doublet, sah. But...he's gone abed since the eighth bell, sah. He served the Morning Watch."

"I see..."

"There is the Dutch boy, Stoir."

"Aye, and does he speak a word of English yet?"

"No good words, sah. There's Morrell.

"Ah, yes." William agreed, and he felt turned about in his watches. 'Too much time spent a shore' he thought. "Thank you, Mister Morgan. Have Mister Morrell report amidships. I shall join him there shortly."

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Black Syren]

She shivered in her sleep as her dreams took a twist, hands slowly caressing, arching to meet them in pleasure. Lips and heated breath coursing over her ear, a gasp given, faces blurred before her, faces of those her mother had brought to train her, to have her follow in her footsteps. The pleasure heightened as warmth heated her skin and then a wet tongue coated her neck.

She shifted halfway between sleep and desire when the wet kiss came again and she turned into it only to be blasted with doggie breath which brought her wide awake. “Argus!” Shoving at the pup who was more grown than not she looked to the window and realized the sun was breaking though the windows. She had actually slept good last night, sleeping like she had not done in a long time. Stretching she noted the kitten had nestled upon the other pillow during the night and lay curled up watching with huge green eyes and she realized he was purring.

“It appears we all slept well though some of us could have slept longer.” She glared accusingly at the dog as she slipped from the bed and padded nude past the curtained window and began her morning rituals. Yawning she began to dress and gathering her things and packing them within. She moved over the room to make sure all of things had been packed, picking up the kitten and her bag she moved to the door. She was sure Alan was still asleep and figured to let him rest.

Moving quickly down the stairs she handed back the key to the proprieter and sought the morning sunshine still somewhat grumpy about being wakened, but the morning was glorious and it quickly brought her round. Plotting her course she stopped by the markets and paid for enough bones and meats for Argus and bid them deliver it to the WatchDog, moved to pick up the rest of her new slops and such and purchase a gown of copper and black lace with black beading that had been left behind as the lady found herself with child. All the better for her for the gown was sumptious..Not that she would be able to wear such anywhere..still no one would ever see it but herself so what harm could it bring. Then she went to fetch her shoes and the rough leather ball that had been crafted for Argus and paid the laid a hefty sum for his troubles.

Then she moved back to the inn and set the kitten down hoping he would find someone to take him, and yet as she sat at a table to await Alan and order some breakfast the kitten mewled plaintively and Argus whined “Nay absolutely Not! Captain will choke me or toss me overboard, as it is you are still on probation so do not be pushing it.” She glanced up and caught several eyeing her with amusement and she arched a brow at them boldly as if she did this everday. Then she settled back to wait ordering only a small ale and sipping upon it.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The boat from the Heron had deposited Captain Lasseter on the Wharf and the two men rowed back to their ship. He watched them go and also turned his eyes east and felt the breeze freshen. But, it was heavy. Heavy with moisture. He noted the clouds thickening and turned away, heading at a brisk pace into the town. Dorian made his way through the town, watched as others knew of the pending storm batten down their homes and storefronts. Only a handful closed, most of the street vendors with their carts went to seek out shelter. The Captain made his way to check on his recent purchases, some were ready, others not quite. He would wait for his fine suit to be finished on the morrow. He decided against heading to the chandlers as he feared he would either get caught in the weather on his way there or from the warehouse. Instead, he chose to wind his way towards the Surgeons’ property, and hopefully, a wakeful Master-at-Arms.

Second bell of the Forenoon Watch

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

The ledgers of the Watch Dog hampered William enough that Louis Morrell was left a long time waiting amidships. He passed the time at the galley and ate his fill of biscuits fresh from the cook stoves. He also conversed with Mister Gage and the time passed quickly enough under the long tales that Lazarus spun amidst a cloud of flour.

Finally, between two and three bells of the Forenoon Watch, a company of two longboats arrived and William arrived on deck even as they hailed the officer of the watch. William looked out from the rail to see Monsieur Goddu and his counterpart, Charpentier. They arrived with some two dozen for the purpose of moving the Maastricht to the docks and William welcomed the two counting house clerks aboard the frigate.

"Captain Brand." They chimed, almost together.

"Monsieur Goddu. Monsieur Charpentier." he returned, gesturing aft.

William called for Louis and the four of them slipped into the Ward Room. Here, the last of the formalities of selling the Maastricht were accomplished, and before the third bell of the watch had sounded, Goddu and Charpentier were bound for the fluyt. William sent over the longboat after them to fetch back the weary Styles and Mooney, last of the dogs aboard the cumbersome Elephant. They were welcomed back by all with a few good humored jeers and jibes.

William thanked them and freed them from all other duties of the day. Paul went straight to the galley for some much needed nourishment and Jerrod Styles begged the boon of joining him there for food before returning to the Heron. William granted Jerrod his request. Then he asked Mister Morgan to call Owen to the longboat, there to go ashore with William and Louis to the Fort Royal Prison.

"Sah." Mister Morgan said, choosing his words carefully. "He's still a bit...bent from his injuries."

"Aye, Mister Morgan. I am aware of that. He has a dark disposition at present and he'll openly advise me without mincing words." William explained. "I need his temperament for the sorting at the prison."

"Of course, sah. Very good, sah."

William straightened his hat and went over the rail into the waiting boat.

Three bells of the Forenoon Watch

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Red Cat Jenny]

Martinique - near Ville Du Fort Royal

As the sun crept higher, the heat the day promised began to awaken the burn on the back of her neck. It was magnified through the thickening haze. Jenny led Chataigne into the shade of a palm, feeling the horses fatigue and unease as well as her own. She was tired and felt caked with dust and longed for the softness of her bed as well as a good breakfast. She hadn't eaten in a day and had begun to feel faint now that she had paused from running. There was rumbling in the distance as a storm threatened. Jenny stretched her arms above her and felt every small ache accumulated over the past day and night..she had ridden hard and fast away from the plantation crossing several streams and her own path at times. Hoping to throw off those she imagined might eventually persue her. Je'miah has told her stories passed down, of those who had escaped their enslavement and how they had hidden their tracks in such a manner. Never did she dream she would be escaping her own form of subjugation. The horse whinnied as a flash lit up the sky and the wind gusted. She patted his side and cooed to soothe him. There was the village nearby, just North of Cul De Sac Royal. She turned Chataigne gently and headed down the slope.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Martinique

By ten of the morning patches of sunlight had finally reached the jungle floor where Tawny was bedded down. One of these bright beams of light crossed his face, and like any stubborn sleeper, he squinted away from it. He rolled his whole body over in a fashion that was almost childlike. He sprawled on the leaves and brambles face down with his head tucked beneath one shielding arm. Then he chanced to turn his head towards the tree which held his play thing.

Adebanke was not there.

Tawny looked at the tree a very long time and couldn't remember if then he had set her free or killed her the night before. He was still in the miasma of waking and he couldn't reason the night past. His head hurt in a very real way, but there were parts of him that ached in ways that seemed distant and dreamy. There were injuries real and imagined that woke up slowly in him. Some aches were ten years dead, but they seemed to return under the sun. At last he sat up.

Beside him lay a large rock that he could not remember. He made a habit of memorizing the places where he slept, always conscientious of exits and weapons, but this rock had not been here and he wondered for a moment if it had made its way here by itself. He also noted that the rope he had used to tie his prisoner with was still at the tree, and he was certain that he would not have left it discarded so casually.

"Boy's gone, Tawny..." he explained to himself, for he was still of a mind that Adebanke was a boy and not a prepubescent girl. "Gone and left..." he answered himself, surprised that anyone should leave his company. He sat there like a waking drunk with a haze over his eyes. This cloud slowly passed and a rising irritation simmered across his face. "Tawny gets a little time with it." he growled. "Find it and wash it...aye." he agreed.

He looked straight into the sun and closed his eyes with a look that would have been angelic on any face but this devil. On Tawny it was all broken glass and patchworks. "Beautiful Chris. Beautiful..Chris." he whispered.

And before the name was dead on his lips he was off and running.

Elsewhere on Martinique...

The longboat of the Watch Dog bumped against a busy dock in the shadow of Fort Royal. Three very different men climbed out from the boat. One was of a no great height, though recent events had indeed 'bent him' a little more. His dark eyes and hair contrasted his sunburns but his nickname seemed well deserved, for he looked the ferret of a man inside and out. The second man walked as upright as any man born of earth. He wore the smile that was his candle uncovered and he was humming something of French origins as he walked. A man in a park wherever he went.

The last man was the contradiction, more than the sum of all his parts. He walked with a long cane, though he didn't need one. Sometimes it rested on his shoulder and other times he tapped it along the paving stones. The finery he wore that morning was flattering and inappropriate at the same time, and the few gentlemen who passed him on the street seemed cautious with their salutations, for the Captain's smile was just subtle enough to be interpreted in more ways then one. Some of them unpleasant.

In fact, William was very far away from Martinique. He had the look of the philosopher on his face this morning, for he was removed from himself in thought. It was something about the morning. It was also something about the night before. Dreams, memories and the impending weather had all combined in him at once to cause a self reflection of sorts. Of course, it helped this mood that he was all too aware of the Fort Royal Prison as it loomed before him.

The day promised strange possibilities.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve forced herself out of bed and made her uninspired way down the stairs. Half way down, she could smell the tea that BriarRose must have brewed and her nostrils flared. Hot tea suddenly sounded amazingly good to her. That and a leftover biscuit or two from yesterday.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, shuffling her rumpled form over to the table where Briar sat. Maeve managed a sleepy smile as Briar laughed at her appearance and the way Maeve slumped into a chair beside her, letting her head thump forward onto the table as though she might head back to sleep right there. BriarRose ruffled Maeve’s hair. “Would you like some tea?”, she asked, smiling, setting down the pen she had been writing with. Maeve merely managed a nod against the table and a quiet “mhmm” in answer. Briar fetched another cup, and, as though she read Maeve’s mind, returned with a couple of biscuits and some jam from the kitchen. “Here you are”, she said, pouring a nice cup of hot tea for her friend. Maeve sat up a bit and regarded the steaming cup with bleary eyes and gave her friend a grateful smile. “Thank you”, she said and caught site of the list BriarRose was making. Maeve took a sip and then asked, “Is that my shoppin’ list for ya?”. “Aye”, said Briar. “I thought I’d get started on the items I think I’ll be needing for my journey”. Maeve nodded gravely. “And how is Mr. Pew?”, she asked, changing the subject. “He seems to be fairing better and is past the most dangerous part of his journey I suspect”, she reported. Maeve smiled. “’Tis wonderful news. I can’t wait to tell the Captains and any of the crew that stop by”. BriarRose and Maeve continued to speak on their patient, then returned to the subject of the shopping list while they snacked on biscuits and drained the entire tea pot.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Fort Royal Prison

Just after four bells of the Forenoon Watch.

William and his two men arrived at the Fort Royal Prison where they were required to show papers at once. This done, they were taken before Louis de Mallevaud, the Commandant of Marines at Fort Royal Prison. They also had the pleasure of Monsieur Dufour's company once more and it was he that explained the nature of Captain Brand's visit. Louis de Mallevaud poured over the papers from the Particular Governor several times before he was satisfied to their contents. He made a point of asking several question via Dufour, though the answers were clearly laid out before him already.

William was unperturbed, for a man of the Commandant's position could not be too careful with the transfer of prisoners during a time of war. William answered every question as it was put to him, concluding with the number of prisoners requested.

"Quatre-vingt-dix hommes?" Mallevaud asked, confirming the number.

"Aye." William agreed. "Some four score and ten."

In the end, the exchange only lasted but a few minutes. Louis de Mallevaud added his long, auspicious signature to the document from Gouverneur Gabaret before adding an additional letter of his own. Then, with the last of these formalities taken care of, William, Louis and Owen were ushered before the first cells of the prison. Bénédicte Dufour stood in the midst of the corridor and called for the attention of the guards on duty there and the prisoners within. The guards snapped to attention at once. The prisoners were less enthusiastic. Many of them remained seated and some didn't even look up from their corners. Monsieur Dufour gestured to William.

"Merci." William said with a nod towards Dufour. Then he turned and faced those who were gathering along the bars in the corridor. "My name is William Brand, Captain of the frigate Watch Dog. I have in my service some 78 men and 8 women aboard the Watch Dog and the cutter Heron."

There was a solitary expression of surprise as one of the prisoners cried out, "Women...?" It was followed by a few laughs and some more faces appeared at the bars. William continued.

"I have come here this day to recruit a number of you men to swell the ranks of these two ships. Any of you wishing to sign on with us may make your mark and escape your place here as free men. No word of your previous conduct or allegiance will be mentioned hereafter. You will be given food, clothing, hammock and whatever else you may require for your duties aboard these two ships. We sail under a marque of Spain and France, so you will be required to show good service against the enemies of these two nations. If you cannot raise sword or pistol against your previous countrymen, you need not seek a berth with us. If you cannot show experience adequate or the health necessary for such service, you need not seek a berth with us. If you join us now only to forward some expectation of escape, then you need not seek a berth with us. I require able seamen and what craftsmen can be found herein. No worthy man will be turned away if he may show cause that he is able and willing to join with us. If there should be more of you wishing to join than I am able to free from this place, I will draw lots to determine who remains and who goes free."

There was a silence that followed, but only for a moment. A man near the head of the corridor pressed himself forward against the bars and narrowed his eyes a bit. "Are ye he that sank the Ascalon?" he asked, with a strong note of curiosity.

William did not answer. The destruction of the Ascalon had been laid at his door some six years now. He was past denying whatever responsibility he had had or had not had in the demise of that vessel, but he answered the man only with silence. The man was nodding just the same.

"And what is your name, sah?" William asked, his tone neutral.

"Hollis." he answered almost too sharply, like a man much practiced in the art of answering officers. Hollis caught himself doing it and smiled. "Robert Hollis."

"I have a Robert, Mister Hollis. Why should I take on another...?" William said, surveying the man.

"I'm prettier than yer man." Robert Hollis returned at once. "And ye might call me Hollis in place of Robert."

Robert Hollis was not prettier than Robert Thatcher. He was not far uglier, but his face did not pass for its looks. It was a worn face which spoke of previous hardships and many years in the sun. His eyes were that grey-blue color which disturbs most people, but he had the simple look of a man that works hard and answers straight. William liked the man at once, but said nothing. He simply nodded.

"And what for pay then?" said another man from behind William. William turned to face a man more surly and disagreeable than Owen on a bad day.

"No doubt you've seen some Dutch prisoners of late." William returned.

"Aye." said a young Englishman from behind the same bars, and he pointed in the direction of those cells deeper within the prison. "The Dutchies are further down in the dark."

"We took from them their fluyt Maastricht. Heavy laden. We also claimed the English Cutter Heron, which we kept for ourselves. We have to our coffers added some 6,000 pounds and more, of which four shares passed to every able seamen. And before this we took some three thousand in holdings and specie."

This caused a stir like no other before it. Several men who had stood only out of curiosity, now rallied at the bars for a chance to be at the front. The recruiting was now begun.

[BriarRose Kildare]

After they had finished their morning tea and biscuits, Maeve went back up stairs to get herself ready to go out shopping. BriarRose went in to check on their patient.

His eyes were open as she walked over to him. “And how are you doing this morning dear sir?’ BriarRose asked Preston as she poured him some water in to a goblet from a basin near the surgeon’s table. Putting the goblet to his lips she lifted up his head to help him drink the cool liquid. He gulped greedily. “Easy, now, you don’t want it coming back up on ye, now do you?”

After he was finished she laid his head back down on the pillow. Preston asked, “Am I dead?” BriarRose laughed her rosy lips curling into a smile, “No, dear sir, you are alive and on the mend. You will be feeling much better I think in a few more days. But you have a long recovery ahead of you. You have been very ill with the Marsh Fever.”

“How long have I been here then?” Preston asked.

“Aye, not long, only a few days. Now I want you to rest a bit and I will get you some broth.” With that BriarRose left the room.

[Black Syren]

Ravenous though still perturbed that Argus had ruined so fine a dream she caught sight of Alan making his way towards her just as she had finished ordering and ordered for him as well.

As he smiled at her and bade her good morning she grinned and replied “It would have been better…” and left it at that. The kitten still mewled pitifully beneath the table and tried climbing up her legs causing her eyes to cross and her lips to pucker then grimace. This caused Alan to laugh, and soon her own laughter joined his.

“Now tis a better morning.” She reached for the kitten and stroked the soft fur once then put him back down with orders to stay there. Argus woofed and sat up and she shook her head at both. Soon the serving wench was back and the meal was large indeed, Argus had his own bone from the kitchen and the kitten a small bowl of cream. Their own fare consisted of ham, bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, and crepes. The crepes of course being her favorites followed by sausage and toast then egg, she however did not touch the bacon. Seeing this Alan asked over this oddity and she just wrinkled her nose..”Too limp.”

Sailors at a nearby table hearing this erupted in laughter and her face pinked charmingly but her eyes glittered with mischief. “I meant I do not like bacon that is not crunchy.” She tried valiantly to redeem herself but the damage had been done so she shrugged and fed her share to Argus who wolfed it down as if there were no tomorrow. A sound of thunder suddenly rumbled and she shifted, blue green eyes deepening with excitement..”A storm! Come we must hurry, we still have to reach the ship!” Rising hastily she hefted her sea bag now filled with purchases and the like and grunted as it now weighed more than she. Alan merely grinned shaking his head at her and finished his coffee before rising and hefting his own sea bag followed her and Argus out into the gray of the coming storm. But not before he had noticed the admiring glances Treasure had received, and then cursed as he stumbled over a mewling ball of black fur that was determined to not be left behind. He glanced to Treasure as she lifted her face to the storm winds then back to the kitten and knew she had wished to leave the kitten and yet the kitten had other more enterprising ideas.

Shaking his head he stepped over the tiny ball and followed after Treasure watching Argus frolic at her heels and hid a grin as she stopped and waved impatiently for him to follow. Reaching her side they continued on through the town till the docks opened before them and lightning flicked from cloud to cloud like an angry serpent’s tongue. The sky now heavy and the color of pewter and he shook his head as Treasure seemed to enjoy the storms winds…”Isn’t it wonderful…it makes you feel so alive.” They moved to where some of the other crew had gathered and greetings were exchanged a few rubbing at Argus’s ears and laughing as the kitten fur in every direction bolted up.

[Alder]

Finally reaching the shore, Robert and Alder had scavenged the last of the light to uncover their way to the chandlery. With note in hand stating authority and purpose, Alder introduced himself and his able companion to the wayworn chandler. The trite chandler led them deep into a storeroom toward a crate standing in the far corner of the room. Appreciating the bulge of coin filling the pouch the carpenter deliberately fumbled, the chandler presented a degree of deference superior to his traditional offerings. The chandler observed, surreptitiously wringing avaricious hands, as both visitors spied the room considering suitable area to labor on the figurehead. Alder, unfamiliar with such negotiation, expressed their need for board while they toiled.

The chandler swung wide an adjacent door and entering, cast his arm wide boasting what the two seamen noted as surprising spaciousness. With raised brow, the vendor rubbed thumb and forefingers awaiting an offer. Tried by need and the tapping impatience of their host, Alder offered a sum, then snarled behind his teeth realizing the eager acceptance divulge his submission had exceeded convention. The carpenter was tight with his coin to be sure but even tighter with that of another man. He would make good on the difference.

“And now my goode fellows, let us see what your note bade me transfer to you” slithered the velvet voice of the salesman chandler.

About them, the warehouse burgeoned with every manner of tool and supply imaginable. Alder; though confident with the utensils he had packed, thought some here would extend his skill quite well. At last they paused before a paint-stained tarp draped over the sizable crate that might be easily managed by the two. Unlike typically bulky figureheads, even unseen, the craftsman could judge this sized carving would blend and not distract from the function of the agile Heron. Alder envisioned all manner of spirits that would dwell in the mysterious figurehead and craved the opportunity to draw them out.

The chandler offered pry-bars, and having already received full payment from Captain Lasseter, left the men to their task. Robert and Alder gently applied leverage as each scaffold fell calmly away. Tumbling excelsior offered teasing hints to flesh and fabric. Like parting clouds, visions of blue peeked through. Alder knew this shade, cerulean his artist mother had called it when the lad Alder had dipped a curious finger onto her palette. Blue of protection, peace, calmness and spirituality, how very fitting for a ship’s guide and guardian, the carpenter reflected.

As last of the crate away, Robert intuitively stepped back as his shipmate became engrossed in the action, losing time, space and even the presence of his companion.

The figurehead still cloaked by a canvas shroud, Robert cleared his throat. Alder nodded silently to his companion as he took his leave.

When stillness reclaimed the space, Alder sighed deeply; his fingers trembled involuntarily as a groom unveiling his treasure. The tan hand contrasted against the delicate bisque of her goddess skin. The pirate gleamed unearthing the ship’s treasure. The luminous glow of golden cords wrapped tightly the fabric that draped her torso below her exposed, ample breast. Her left, concealed by a well-placed and delicate hand. Cascading tendrils of amber blond framed a single shoulder strap and naked bosom.

Both hand tenderly lifted the veil from her wistful face that gazed into the distance.

Alder stepped back slowly smiling a half-cocked smile that drew a sun-wrinkled squint In their shared solitude, he unconsciously bowed in introduction. Raising his capricious grin, Alder could almost perceive the figurehead wink back at him.

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough, having been relieved from duty by the captain the night before had a leisurely breakfast in the galley conversing with crew mates as they came and went from the room. Once again, she tried to strike up a conversation with Mister Bly but he continued to blatantly ignore her queries. Murin needed to speak to Billy Flint soon; she feared what unintentional damage she may have caused Nathan. Her heart sank once more as she thought of how silly her behavior had been the other night in the arms of the carpenter. She recalled the gleam in Alders eyes, the sparkle that shown there, the smile on his face, the grace with which he moved her around the floor, the strength as he held her ever so gently. She stopped her thoughts once again. That was a memory now. She learned her lesson. She would not let herself send any mixed signals to any of her ship mates ever again. Yet there was no doubt in her mind that the signals she had sent to Mister Wenge were not mixed, she would, in the future, behave as a proper lady with him. He was after all an educated man of means and she had enough knowledge of polite society to know what was expected of a lady. Another thought tugged at the corner of her mind, Alder was not on land following the rules of polite society; he was on a ship seeking what lay beyond one’s sight. Shaking her head at herself she cleaned her plate and left the galley

Murin stopped into the surgery ward to see if Meg and Patrick had any questions or needed any assistance but the two worked silently and when pressed still had no questions for the tailor. Satisfied that she was not needed in the construction of the marine uniforms for the moment she decided to focus on what she could do. She would check on the order that she and Mister Pew had placed for the hats. She would also check on the leather work that was being done and perhaps she would check on Mister Pew himself.

Gathering her things she included the blank book and led stick she had purchased in hopes that she would take time to write or perhaps draw, she enjoyed drawing and hoped that some day her drawing skills could match those of Alders.

Mister Warren gave her leave and sent a few others ashore with her since the time for the crew shift was drawing neigh. The darkening skies and choppy tide spoke of the coming storm. With luck Miss McDonough would at the very least make it to 'Le Chateau Anse' before the rain. After that while at the hat maker there she buy herself a new hat for protection from the rain. She was enjoying having money and spending it liberally!

Once on shore she tarried there taking time to speak to those of the Larboard Watch who were waiting to be ferried to the Watch Dog or the Heron. These past few days the two watches spent little time together and she was happy to share her adventures and hear of any establishment worthy of patronage.