The Watch Dog

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Martinique

Monsieur Dufour was very exacting in his work. He carefully noted the departure of every chosen prisoner. He did not merely cross out the names in the record books of the prison. He made careful notations and copied every name onto a fresh document to be signed by the Commandant and the Particular Governor once William had chosen the last of the lot.

William was patient. He understood the necessities of office, and having suffered once before due to a lack of prudence on the part of a clerk, he was willing to see every 't' crossed before they departed.

When the time finally came to leave Fort Royal Prison the weather had not abated. In many ways it had dissolved into chaos. The wind was up now and the rain came down at harsh angles. Seeking shelter proved utterly fruitless once outside the prison walls and William simply assured the men that a warm meal and perhaps a bed were waiting for them that night.

They pressed on to a clothier that William had seen not far from the docks. He and Louis went in ahead of the others to find a surprised proprietor closing the inside shutter. The man immediately stepped down from the window casement and came over to help the unexpected customers. The man seemed glad that the weather had not kept cliental away, and like the gutters outside, he overspilled and gushed a little. William didn't mind. He could see already see what deals might be made in the shop and the owner was primed for a barter or two.

"Tell him that I mean to return in one hour's time to buy clothing for that lot out there." William said, gesturing through the murky windows. Louis explained and the man gushed some more.

They left the shop and made there way down a neighboring street to an inn named La Cuvette. The Trough. It was a rude name for an inn, but William had passed the establishment two days prior and had noted the sign which advertised "Bains chauds. Repas chauds." Hot baths. Hot meals. He hoped the term 'baths' meant that the place would house more than one tub, but he thought this might matter little in the end. The place had a spacious look to it and he did not think they would mind the patronage.

He was not wrong. His coin proved very welcome indeed.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

The chandlery that Murin hoped was the one where Mister Alder Wedge could be found, like many of the businesses in Martinique today, was shuttered. When her knocks upon the front door were not heeded she navigated her way around the building. There she found a high window that remained un-shuttered, the light pouring into the alley beside the building. Even standing on toes she could not see inside. Murin searched in the gloom of the day in the darkness between buildings until she located an old bucket that would serve as a step stool. From her vantage point she saw the carpenter admiring the figurehead that was no doubt to be transformed into whatever Captain Lasseter had commanded. Murin noted how Alder caressed the work of art, the look of excitement that shown in his eyes as he ran his hand along the folds of the gown. She smiled to see him so engrossed in thought, to see his passion for his work. Too late Miss McDonough became aware that the old bucket had been discarded and left to rot in the alley. Her foot broke through the bottom bucket, her hand that had held the sill just moments before to steady her on her perch smacked against the window pane and she tumbled to the ground.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - La Cuvette

The new recruits ate the same way as they had stood in the rain. There was a mixture of relish, reverence and some appreciative laughter. Some were solemn. One sailor even said Grace over his food, too grateful not to say it. As for the fare of La Cuvette, it was not impressive, but as advertised, it was hot. The men ate their fill just the same and it took little to fill them. William was mindful to provide them only so much and no more, so that they would not gorge stomachs that had been too long denied the volume of large meals.

While most of them ate, a few were just as privileged to bathe in one of La Cuvette's tubs. There were not two, but three baths. They were large, banded, wooden affairs that had seen much use over the years. The tubs stood in one large room and the only privacy afforded to each bather was a hanging, threadbare curtain. Jonah Greene, Robert Tollis and young William Dash drew the first lots for the bath and couldn't have cared less for privacy at that moment. They might have made an afternoon of soaking, but William had told every man in the company that they were allotted only two turns of a three minute glass.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve stared out the window at the dreary weather, wondering if it would ease up enough to allow her to head out and shop for the supplies that Briar needed: 2 chemises, heavy linen scraps, sewing tools, hair ribbons, 2 hair combs, soap, diapenidion, ginger, anise, raspberry tea leaves, laudinum, Manus Christi, Species Diatrion Piperion…the list went on. Up above, she could hear Briar’s soft footfall on the floor above her as she moved about the bedroom, stoking the fire against the chill and dampness.

“Oy!”, called an impatient voice from the surgery room. Maeve was a tad surprised to hear Mr. Pew’s voice so suddenly. She hadn’t even heard him stir. Quickly, she stepped into the little room. Mr. Pew was sitting up, looking pale and drawn, but somewhat recovered. Maeve smiled to see their patient marginally revived. “What can I do for you?”, she asked pleasantly. He looked a tad grumpy and pointed at the folded stack of clothing Mr. Franklin had purchased for him. “I’d prefer ta have ma clothes, ifn’ ya don’t mind”, he said, his voice sounding a bit gravelly. “And, I’ll be in need o’ the chamber pot right away”, he added. “Oh!”, she said. How silly of them not to have kept a pot close by for his use should he suddenly need it. “Of course”, she said as she moved to the shelf and removed a dusty earthenware chamber pot. She handed it and the pile of clothes to him. “Would ya be needin’ any help with either task?”,she asked seriously, the perfect countenance of someone that was past being embarrassed about or beneath such things. The sudden look on his face was all the answer she needed and she merely raised an eyebrow and smiled a smile as one would give a silly stubborn child. “Have it yer way Mr. Pew. I’m sure ya have questions. I’ll be waitin’ in the next room when yer done”.

Maeve crossed into the kitchen to begin boiling some water to make a simple stew for Mr. Pew. She heard Briar come down the stairs. “I thought I heard voices”, BriarRose said from another part of the house, and it was followed by an indignant shout from Mr. Pew. Maeve, understanding immediately what had just happened, couldn’t help but burst into a laugh, even as she heard Briar apologize and shut the surgery door, a little too hard. Briar was smiling sheepishly behind her hand as she entered the kitchen. This renewed Maeve’s laughter, and they both dissolved into the silly girlhood giggles that occasionally overtook one even as an adult. “Twouldn’t be so funny”, Maeve managed after a moment, “if he weren’t so indignant about it”. Briar nodded, laughing breathlessly, wiping a small tear from her eye. “Aye indeed”, she agreed. “Ah”, Maeve sighed, finally catching her breath. “If only the men knew just how many patients we’ve “seen”, mebbe they’d understand ‘tis nothin’ to those in our trade”. Regaining her composure, Maeve gave Briar a wry smile who stayed behind to prepare the stew, and stepped out of the kitchen. She waited several minutes and walked to the surgery door. Knocking softly, she called “Mr. Pew?”

“Aye”, he said gruffly, sounding embarassed. He had likely heard their giggling, as much as they’d tried to stifle it. Either that, or he was still put out by having been walked in on. “Is it…alright ta come in now”, Maeve asked. Mr. Pew merely grunted. She took it for a yes and opened the door. He had managed to dress himself, although he had broken out into a slight sweat for his efforts. He was leaning against the table. Without thinking, Maeve reached into a small bowl filled with water, rung out the rag that was in it, and handed it to Mr. Pew so that he might mop his brow. He gave her a weak smile and took the rag. “So”, she began, “let me tell you what’s been happenin’ and if ya have any questions after that, I’ll do ma best ta answer”, she said. Maeve began a full accounting of all she knew that had befallen Mr. Pew and the subsequent steps that had been taken by his friends, Captain, and crewmates to see him delivered here and cared for in the absence of their own ships’ doctor. “No one’s been by ta see you today yet, but I should think the weather be what’s stallin’ ‘em”. Maeve turned to look out the window and Mr. Pew followed her gaze. He didn’t say anything right away, as though he gathered his thoughts about him.

[Pew]

"Aye, bastids, th' lot o' them. Prolly sleepin' one off now," I huffed.

The woman stood in front of me and looked like I had just insulted her.

"I'm jus' kiddin' luv." I coughed deeply. "Yew took care o' Mister Lasseter with his bump on th' 'ead aye?"

The woman nodded, and looked confused. "I musta been up good then aye, t' bring me t' yew an' all? How long af I been 'ere?"

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve was surprised that he would have the energy to cuss, though she didn't know why she should be. She laughed internally at his unnecessary apology. It had been a while since she'd heard sailor talk, true, but it was nothing she hadn't heard before on her journeys here. Many had spoken similarly in the countryside she'd come from. Indeed, the kind of language that came out of men's mouths as their limbs were being sawn off was nothing compared to sailor talk. And as Mr. Pew mentioned Dorian Lasseter, she gained a kind of far off look, as she recollected a rather brutal surgery she'd helped her father perform on another man who's last name had also been Lasseter.

Coming back from her gruesome reverie, she looked once again at Mr. Pew. "You've been here for about 2 days now. Your friend Mr. Franklin and several others brought ya here. Captain Brand showed up soon after. You've been visited by many. Today's just a slow day", she said with a smile, looking once more back out the window into the gloomy day. "BriarRose has taken even better care of you then maself, knowing much more about caring for those with Marsh Fever than I do. We're makin' you a thin stew that you should be able to eat fairly easily after such a long time without food. Since ample money has been left for your care, I'll be happy to take any reasonable food request ya might have. But mind ya won't get anythin' harder ta drink than an ale while yer under our care. I trust that'll suit ya just fine", she said, turning back to regard him.

[BriarRose Kildare]

The black fur ball mewed piteously as he watched the boat push away from the docks. The rain pelted down soaking him to the bone. He ran back and forth trying to find away to leap upon the retreating boat. However, the loud noises around him made him skittish and he began to run. His heart was pounding with all of the noises around him. And each time he stopped to hide, another noise would jolt him and he would tear off running again. The rain was merciless, and he was getting cold and hungry. He had traveled far from the docks and found himself upon a street where there were store fronts and houses.He began mewing piteously as he found a stoop to curl up in where the pelting rain wasn’t so harsh against his small body.

BriarRose stirred the pot of thin beef stew that they had made for Preston. From the kitchen she could hear the muted voices of Maeve and Preston. She gave a sigh of relief that their patient was on the mend. Although she knew from experience the Marsh Fever would always leave a lasting impression upon a person’s body.

BriarRose walked into the main room, looking out the window, she chewed on her lower lip as she watched the rain pelt down. The sound of rain upon the roof had a rhythmic melody that seemed to transport her back to another time and place. Reaching in to her pocket she pulled out the missive that she has received from Friar Thomas several days ago. Blinking back the tears and swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, BriarRose tried to clear her mind of past memories. Sighing she said aloud to herself, “If only you had lived dear Sebastian.” Shaking her head, she went and sat down on the one rocker and picked up her sewing. She must not think on it any more. The past was over and now……and now…closing her eyes, BriarRose tried to push away the fear. He would not find her.

Opening her eyes, she began to diligently sew the delicate pink and red rosebuds onto the piece of lace linen she was making in to a handkerchief. She could still hear the grumbling from the patient’s room, which brought a smile to her face. The rain continued to come down in buckets. But the melodious sound upon the roof now helped to ease away her fears.

From a distance BriarRose could hear a crying sound above the din of the rain. Setting her sewing aside, she got up to investigate. She followed the sound as it grew steadier the closer she got to the door. Opening the door, BriarRose looked out side. Hearing the sound again, she looked down at her feet to find a soak laden black fur ball of a kitty.

“Oh, no, you poor dear, and just a baby too.” Taking off her apron, BriarRose, scooped the kitten up with it and carried the kitten over to the hearth to dry it off. The black fur ball struggled at first, but then relaxed purring at her ministrations. After she was satisfied that the kitten was dry enough, BriarRose said, “Now let me take a look at you.” Green-gold eyes blinked back at her from a black furry face. “Oh, now aren’t you a beauty.” Turning the kitten over she laughed, “Aye, well, then, I would have to say you are a handsome one.” The kitten meowed. BriarRose continued to talk to him, "Now don’t you fret, little one. I will get you some of the stew that has been simmering and may haps a bit of cream for you to drink too.” With that BriarRose left the kitten lying contentedly by the hearth as she went in to the kitchen to fetch just those items. Coming back out only a few minutes later, she set the bowls down in front of the kitten. He looked at her, blinking his eyes and then got up an investigated the food. He began to gobble down the food and lap up the cream very quickly. “Aye, now, take it slow or you’ll be spewing it back up in a trice if you don’t take a care young sir.” BriarRose laughed as he looked up at her with knowing eyes. Once he was done he meandered over to her and jumped up on to her lap.

“Oh, well, you are quite welcome then.” She said to him, petting his still slightly damp fur. “Am I to keep you then young sir, or are you going to be keeping me?” she asked the kitten as he began to gently paw at her. He purred contentedly and promptly fell asleep on her lap. “Aye, may haps you are just what I need to keep my spirits up.” BriarRose continued to pet the sleeping kitten as she gently rocked back and forth in the rocking chair.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter had lingered in the ordinary for a time, hoping the weather might lighten so he might get to the Surgeon’s looking not so much a drowned rat. He drank a cordial to warm himself after a fine hot meal of fresh fish and ale. He walked to the door and unlatched it to look out and was near knocked over by the force of wind and rain. Shouldering the door, he shoved it shut and stood a moment before turning away, draining his glass and walking back to his table. He rummaged in his pockets and found his one short pipe and a pouch of tobacco.

“One pipe full and no more, I cannot delay much longer in my visit.”

He packed the bowl and got a taper to light it and slowly puffed away, listening to the storm pound away. He spent the next hour in a haze of tobacco smoke and a haze of thoughts. He wondered how Preston was doing, how the ships were weathering the storm, How William was doing, if he’d gotten to the prison to garner crew, how Mister Alder was doing with his secret project, and other thoughts of people and places. The tobacco was finished and Dorian was resolved to make his way to visit the ailing Master-at-Arms.

He tapped the ash out of his pipe and returned it to his pocket, fixed his hat on his head and braced himself as he opened the door. Wind whipped past him as he crossed the thresh hold and hauled the door shut behind him. He nearly lost his hat to the elements, but deftly grabbed it as it lifted off his head. He clenched his jaw and hunched his shoulders as he was pelted by the large drops of rain. Off he went the last two blocks to the Surgery of Miss Maeve O’Treasaigh.

Four Bells of the Afternoon Watch

[Captain Midnight]

Jonah Greene sat in the wash tub soaking the grime of nine months in prison from his limbs. It was almost a strange feeling being free again, and as the filth was washed away from his body, he began to feel once again like the man called Midnight, rather than a caged animal. He could almost feel the call of the sea, beckoning his soul, and he bowed his head in a silent prayer of thanks. Tears brimmed at his eyelids and his heart lurched when he thought of the fates of his comrades who had been captured with him, but he tried his best to swallow his grief and think of the future. He was free, and his life had a new lease. As the bath attendant signaled that his time was up,he stood and stepped from the bath like a new man emerging from a baptism. He had a new captain and a new ship to look after. As he dressed, he tried to visualize in his mind what the Watch Dog might look like, and as he did so, a smile came to his now cleanly shaven face, and his heart felt the better for it.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - La Cuvette

La Cuvette was loud with eating, talking and some singing. Not all of the prisoners were boisterous, but they didn't seem to mind the din. A church was sounding the hour of two o'clock nearby and Louis cleared his throat over the noise. William was watching the men eat, but he turned towards the marine.

"Il est deux de l'après-midi, capitaine."

William furrowed his brow. "Two of the afternoon...? Oui je sais, Monsieur Morrell."

Louis looked at William long and hard and William looked back perplexed. "What am I meant to under....?" William began, then understanding dawned upon him. The Starboard Watches were off duty and William had neglected to release Owen and Louis to whatever revelries they wished ashore. "Ahhhhh...my apologies, Mister Morrell. Of course. Please fetch me some replacements for you and Mister Monahan."

"Merci capitaine." the marine said as he made his way out the door and in the direction of the docks.

The Jungles of Martinique

Elsewhere on the island, another recent prisoner had just reached a clearing in the jungle. She found a well marked cart path and fainted from relief more than fatigue.

It was the first true sleep she had known since her abduction.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose laid her head back as she pet the sleeping kitten. The sounds of murmuring voices, the rhythmic pelting of rain and the soft purring sound of the kitten lulled her to sleep.

She was on a hillside picking wildflowers. A multitude of colors already filled her basket with purples, yellows, pinks, oranges and white. The sun was shining, its golden rays gently warming the earth about her. Sniffing deeply at a bunch of flowers she held in her hand, BriarRose looked up. He was waiting for her standing patiently by an old oak tree. She smiled and picked up her basket running a bit unladylike to greet him. He laughed at her waywardness, his blue eyes sparkling with merriment. He caught her around the waist bringing her up against him. His black hair glistened in the sunlight. He kissed her soundly and gently placed her back on the ground. The dream moved on in a foggy haze and BriarRose found her self back at her Father’s estate. Walking in with a basket full of flowers she could hear her Father roaring her name. “Here I am Father.’ BriarRose said quietly.

“And where have you been these past three hours?”

“I went for a walk upon the hillside to collect flowers for MaMa”

“You insolent tart!” her Father roared as he grabbed her by the hair and drug her to the back chapel in the house. Throwing her on the floor before the altar her Father yelled “Repent for your sins! For I know you have seen him again.” He slapped her across the face leaving a blood red welt mark.

Yelling for two foot men he told them “Take my wayward daughter to her room. And be sure to tell the cook she gets nothing, but bread and water.”

BriarRose stood slowly and walked to the door and straight to up to her room. Horace the one footman looked at her with pity as he closed her door and locked it.

BriarRose woke with a start tears streaming down her face. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. Looking down at the sleeping kitten she whispered “I’m safe for now.” Sighing, she tried to remember the happy moment of the dream, “Dear, Sebastian, how I miss you.”

[Alder]

With a turn, Alder cloaked the figurehead with its drape and made haste to the atelier window, concerned that a branch forced from its anchor by the storm might have careened the glass or worse. Peering out, he saw not a soul. His brow furrowed at the mystery. Prying deeper still, he glanced below the thick pine sill and made out measured, erratic motions ‘neath a bundle of emerald green fabric.

Goode lord! He looked up wondering if the unrecognizable creature had haplessly plummeted from the roof. His ear perked with the utterance of mild profanity that rose with a familiar voice. Alder bolted from his place, rounded the storeroom with tremendous haste and found himself beside the disheveled tailor in the alley. Attempted to stand; embarrassed by the awkward encounter, she cringing as she put her weight on the turned ankle and began to topple back to the ground. Alder whisked down before either of them could consider proper etiquette in a matter such as this. His burly arm was spattered with excelsior that bit into his flesh as it enfolded her waist and steadied her stance. Lifting the hair out of her face and tumbling it over her shoulders she discovered her liberator. The awkward silence that followed was deafening.

[Dorian Lasseter]

He walked against the wind for a time and found haven from it every chance he got. Two blocks seemed two miles in this weather, but the Captain made headway against it as best he could and soon arrived at the door of the Surgery. He knocked thrice and waited for an answer, hoping it would be quite soon.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve excused herself from a conversation with Mr. Pew and hastened to answer the door. She opened it to find a sodden Capt. Lasseter at her doorstep.

"Oh!", she exclaimed. "Please do come in out o' the weather Captain". Maeve moved quickly out of the way and ushered him inside, taking note of the stitched wound he seemed to no longer be doctoring.

She made to take his hat and wet coat, which he allowed and she placed them by the fire. She simultaneously informed Dorian that Mr. Pew was awake and that he could go on in to see him.

Just then, BriarRose entered into the storefront from the kitchen, holding a little black cat she had never seen before. It immediately began growling at the site of the Captain, and cut short Briar's salutation as the cat bristled in her arms.

"Where did that thing come from?", Maeve asked, surprised.

Dorian ignored the cat but kindly greeted Miss Kildare as he passed into the surgery.

[Silkie McDonough]

Miss McDonough winced and cursed as the pain in her ankle that caused her to loose her balance. As another curse came from her she found her fall interrupted. She did not need to see her rescuer. Her heart raced and her soul soared at his touch. Turning to him her word stopped on her lips, she could scarcely breathe. They stood, still in time, the rain washing over them and silence filling their ears. She wanted him to pull her close, to press his lips to hers. Lightning flashed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she held her breath waiting. There was no resistance from the lass; she yielded to his embrace in hope and in fear.

The thunder rolled around them.

His voice came out in a whisper, “You are hurt.”

After a few long moments Murin managed... “I..um. I ken wolk.” She placed her full weight on the foot but was unable to bear it all. Her arm tightened around Alders broad shoulders once more as she bit at her lip refraining from yet another profanity.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Martinique

Louis, Pascal and Marinus Olyslaeger arrived at La Cuvette even as William had determined he could wait no longer for them. William dismissed Louis and Owen to whatever debaucheries awaited them, and even paid them for their meal and drinks at 'The Trough'. They left in good spirits and Owen even managed a smile. It was as bent a thing as he was.

"Three minutes, Gentlemen."

William, Pascal and Marinus waited those few minutes under the eves outside, watching a rain which made Martinique anyplace and everyplace on Earth. Pascal was thinking of Marce, France. Marinus was thinking of Tiburg. It was easest for William. the downpour made Martinque look like Palestine during the former rains, what with the palm trees and the almost Mediterranean style architecture.

All of their thoughts were interrupted by a brutish man that came out of the alleyway kicking a three-legged dog. He did not seem to like the attention of the three onlookers and said as much in so many French curses. Pascal said nothing and William only raised an eyebrow, but Marinus saluted the many with an obscene gesture that crossed all cultural barriers. The man was not amused, but he went away just the same.

"That was not the Particular Governor." William said as an afterthought, and Pascal snorted.

Less than an hour later William was surrounded by half clad men climbing into or out of new clothes. The recruits tried on shirts, slops and waistcoats in an ongoing parade of sizing. There were piles of clothes everywhere and the shopkeeper and his assistants were made to move about fetching and carrying. Most of the men were thin from their time in the prison, but William understood that many of them would fill in again once they had a fill of good food and work, so he reminded the shopkeeper to be mindful that every man was given clothes that could be tailored at sea without too much trouble.

Most of the men were gracious about the whole business, but Oliver Randall actually took the time to admire every article of clothing in the shop's long mirror, turning this way and that to see how each piece flattered him. He plucked at the collar and cuffs of one very plain shirt as if it were made of silk.

Francis Roundtree shook his head and scolded, "One day out o' the cage an' already the peacock."

"Captain says there are women aboard." Oliver returned knowingly, unaware that William was almost at his elbow.

"That may be so, Mister Randall." William said at once, a gentle warning in his tone "...but mind yourself. These are clothes for the working day."

Oliver flushed. "Sorry, sah. Meant no harm, sah."

"That will do, Mister Randall." William said, dismissing the conversation at once, though he laughed a little inside to think of Oliver courting any of the women on the 'Dog. Most of them would probably laugh at the idea, for the man was no prize to look at. Pascal leaned in to William then and suggested that some of the men might be overdue a little female companionship. William nodded, but said nothing and Pascal made no more mention of it.

The shopkeeper signaled to William and he went over to assess the cost of all this recruiting.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Glad to be in out of the rain and in the warmth of Miss O’Treasaigh’s offices, Dorian listened to what the Doctor had to say about the Master-at-Arms and was gladdened that the man was awake and on the mend. He briefly greeted her friend the Apothocary, Miss Kildare, and was ‘greeted’ by a wee hissing cat in her arms. Dorian bowed out into the other room where Mister PEW was accommodated and greeted the man.

“Mister Pew… it gives me much joy to see you upright and lucid. Miss O’Treasaigh, er, Doctor O’Treasaigh tells me you are recovering well… “

Preston gave Dorian a look and smiled.

“Aye Cap’n I do feel more m’self now, can’t wait ta get back aboard ship.”

Aye…. Soon… Not just yet…. Soon…. And… no… never mind…”

Preston gave Dorian a questioning look and he waved it away. The Master-at-Arms knew Captain Lasseter would indulge him when he was ready. Instead he told the recovering man of the goings on while he was convalesced in the town. They talked of many things and the hours passed, both the women joined them for short visits, and finally the meal time arrived. Dorian made to leave, but was coerced to stay and join them for the evening meal.

Seven Bells of the Afternoon Watch

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Martinique

The clothier proved a fair man, if not a generous one. The volume of clothes for the men was such that he made a good profit that day, so he set the clothing at market price that was as good as William might have found anywhere else. Besides, the clothes were new and well made, so William paid the store keeper and moved the recruits to the next shop on his list.

The men were surprised to find themselves under the dripping eaves of a cobbler's shop. By now it was after 3:30 of the afternoon. The day was quickly going and William meant to have the men aboard before nightfall. He left them under the leaning porch and went in to speak with the proprietor. Once William and the wiry Frenchmen had come to an arrangement, he sent the men into the shop in pairs to be measured and fitted with good working shoes.

"Noah vóór de Bak." Marinus said to no one in particular.

"Pardon...?" Pascal asked, sounding very French in a single word.

"I believe he said 'Noah before the Ark'...or words after that kind." William explained in a humorless tone as he squinted into the rain. It showed no signs of slowing and he muttered something that neither of them could understand.

In the end, the task of fitting the men with shoes went on until it had consumed the better part of an hour. It was a dirty affair, for while the men were washed, they had tramped about in the mud a great deal the last few hours. By the time they were finished the shop floor was covered in muddy footprints and William was obliged to pay the shopkeeper an added sum to have a cleaning woman put the shop right when the weather cleared. It went a long way to improving the shopkeeper's mood.

Now the recruits stood all together in a makeshift line and William liked what he saw. I few of them looked to be a little frail for the present, but they were a determined looking bunch and well dressed for the life aboard ship.

"Oilskins will come later, lads, I am sorry to say. We'll make our way to a coffee house along the docks and I'll see what can be done in the way of hammocks and coats."

They went with him and they seemed to be in good spirits for so many half-drowned cats...or in this case...Dogs.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

Alder swept Murin into his arms and carried her out of the weather. He sat her on a chair and provided a bale to stretch her leg out upon. Then gingerly, he removed her shoe and sock. There was no swelling in the ankle and the pain was minimal.

“What happened lass?”

She felt the heat in her face rise as she blushed then simply said “I slipped”

He wanted to take her to a chirurgeons but Murin insisted that all she needed was time. “I’ve done dis afore. Twill be well in no time. Ya keep ta yer work n’we will talk fer a while.”

“It will be dark soon.”

“Aye.”

“You should be someplace safe before then”

“You wont mae t’go?” she knew he would not.

“No.” He replied so quickly and sharply that Murin was taken by surprise. His face showed of concern. Gentler, he repeated “No” he continued in a calm tone “I wish to keep company with you for a while. We have much to discuss.”

“Aye.” She paused in thought. “Den perhaps yull kindly escort mae to d’inn I am stayin afore dark.”

He smile “That could be arranged with little effort.” He went to his things, pulled out his oiled cloak and donned his hat. As he returned to her side she had her sock on already and was buckling her shoe. He fetched her oil skin and draped it around her shoulders. As she tied it in place he presented her with the green hat and commented on the need to have it cleaned after having fallen in the mud, to which she simply looked askance at him, snatched the wet hat from his hands and placed it on her head. “Jus purchased it.” Together they chuckled. Alder moved as if he were about to lift the lass.

“Nay! I ken walk.” The carpenter then simply offered his hand to the girl. Miss McDonough stood on her good foot then took a step on the bad. It hurt but was not unbearable. Then Mister Wenge offered his arm to help and she gladly accepted. Limping beside him they manage to make it outside the door. Alder then returned to the far end of the room and doused each candle, closed the door and locked it behind him. Pulling their hats tight to their heads the two huddled close against the elements and stepped into the driving rain as the thunder clapped above them once again.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The storm continued to cover Fort Royal with a deluge of water and light up the sky with lightening and deafening thunder. Captain Lasseter sat and supped with the two ladies and Mister PEW, although the Master-at-Arms did not get to enjoy the same fare as the others. He was allowed broth only, and not the brown bread and stew served from the kitchen of the Surgery. To be fair they all drank small beer served from a common pitcher. They spoke of many things, and the conversation was quite lively. Dorian noticed how Miss Kildare seemed to enjoy his company and was genuinely interested in his points of conversation. The Captain occasioned to look out the window when their was a long pause from lightening strikes, hoping the weather had broken. It was not to be just yet. As the time went by, he watched the officer of the Watch Dog, noting how much strength had returned to him, and yet he was still in a weakened state. He wondered how much longer it would take his recovery, and if Dorian should offer Preston what had been on his mind. Again he shook his head and turned his thoughts elsewhere. He decided to talk with William again before making the offer. At one point he glanced at the clock in the corner and noted it was much later than he had expected.

"Ladies, Preston... I must away, I should have been back aboard th' Heron an hour ago. My apologies... Seems the gods wish me ta be a drowned rat this day."

All was understood by the company and with a promise to return the next day, Miss O'Treasaigh got his hat and coat. He shrugged into it and bowed to the ladies, nodded to PEW and crowned himself with his hat. He stepped out into the storm and looked skyward, squinted his eyes and shook his head before making his way through the streets, heading for the wharf.

Two bells of the First Dog Watch

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - Martinique

It took some time to find a shop large enough to supply their needs. When they did finally locate a place that could see every recruit outfitted, it was easy to see at once that many of the hammocks there had already put to sea at least once before.

"They may not look pretty, gentlemen, but they've seen and survived the life." William pondered on the task of testing these worn hand-me-downs and he looked about the room. His eyes settled on Jonah Greene, a man that had also 'seen and survived the life'. Since the man had been a captain once before it was likely that he had a good judgment for hammocks and this might make the task at hand pass quicker, so William motioned for him to step forward. It didn't hurt that the man was also tall and wide in the shoulders. William asked Jonah over to test his weight and opinion on each hammock. Marinus was also employed to test a hammock or two and the two men took turns sitting in every other one. Some of The hammocks survived the scrutiny, but some of them failed. Marinus went right through one and Jonah caught himself as yet another gave out.

"Have you a tailor on board, Captain?" Jonah asked as he climbed free of a torn, patched bit of canvas.

"Aye." William returned, and Jonah nodded.

Between Marinus, William and Jonah they managed some forty-five hammocks to be used for the recruits there and those that would come after. William allowed Jonah first pick and so on down the line until every man had a hammock wrapped neatly about his shoulders. William also managed some seventeen oilskins which he said would be shared until more could be found. With this accomplished, he bustled them out into the foul weather and down to the docks to cross over to the Watch Dog.

Three bells of the First Dog Watch

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny Ashcombe hurried across St Louis near the Fort, slogging through growing pools of muddy water in the direction of the Chateau Anse. As she leaned against the weather, she imagined people noticing her..alone, unescorted in the hour and darkness. Though clearly there were none around. The rain was heavy, only changing on occasion to a shower before returning again to it's full tropical fury. She kept to the shop edges to avoid the wind driven spray. Nerves on edge, Jenny was also tired. She had slept most of the day, but the fatigue of fear, uncertainty and perhaps sadness.. weighed upon her. As she made her way, wrap pulled close against the rain, she was plagued by thoughts that the Watch Dog and Heron might have sailed. Thoughts that there might be some others looking for her at this very moment. Thoughts which made her legs feel leaden as they might in a bad dream. Jenny knew it could be a mistake to go to the Chateau Anse..to be near Cul De Sac Royal at all..but the ship and her friend Murin were her only chance. So much hope she had placed on these thoughts, that she only now considered how all would be lost if they had gone. Miss Ashcombe had enough coin now to buy passage on another ship, but a woman travelling alone with almost no posessions and a heavy purse would raise suspicion. She shuddered to think what she might encounter once trapped at sea with strangers. As she walked, Jenny became more gripped in her fears..her uncles image flashing in her mind with each sheet of lightning filling the sky. She drew her wrap about her and ducked her face away from wet, blowing sand as the wind gusted again. Footsteps crunched behind her and seemed to keep pace. Slowing when she did and quickening with her own and the pace of her heart. She came to cross a square which normally would be lit from surrounding windows, but was now shadowed as the shops and tavern were shuttered against the storm. Jenny stopped half way in the growing darkness and listened for the footsteps. They were gone for the moment...perhaps imagined. She could hear her only own breathing and struggled to quiet it. Then it came again. The distinct crunch of a foot in the gravel. Thunder rolled anew and the sky opened up. Seizing the moment, Jenny ran through the square and kept running, her hair and clothes soaked, vision blurred by a mixture of sheeting rain and tears. There was light on the next avenue and Jenny again ducked her chin and ran towards the glow.

Then she struck something. Someone. She felt the hard hilt of a sword strike against her elbow and its owner let out a forced breath as her hand struck his stomach through coat and buttons. Jeny turned, her mouth forming a scream but no sound came. The man grasped her by the forearms and she struggled to get away. Unable in the darkness, rain and cover of wet hair to see her assailant, who must have gone ahead and around to catch her as she ran. She fought mightily almost tipping the man's balance but his hold was tight and he was taller than she. He shook her.. " Have a care !..Gerl!" The accent was not French or Creole. But it's foreign affectation made no difference in her frightened mind. The man pulled her sharply to the side, still holding tightly to her wrist which was twisted painfully. Jenny resigned herself to the horrors of whatever must surely lie ahead. Prison or death. It mattered not any longer. At least she would be free. She stopped struggling and stood, eyes shut tight and just sobbed. The sharp sound of blade aganst scabbard turned Jenny's veins to ice. She raised her face in order to see her attacker, fear in her eyes, gasping for breath. For a moment she didn't recognize the man. He was soaked as she, had his cocked hat pulled low and collar turned up against the weather. He was looking past her into the rain and darkness. He turned towards her again releasing some of the strain on her wrist. "Gerl! what causes ye to run? I see nothing ahead! who was it?!" As she lifted her face in shocked confusion, he recognised the young woman. "Miss Ashcombe!" Suddenly voice and face connected in her concious and she startled, but her mind could not quickly grasp words. Captain Lasseter released her, looking past her once again for what my have made her run and in such a state. "Capt.." was all she could utter before collapsing again into sobs. Jenny Ashcombe stood, her shoulders shaking as the emotions she had held in check for the past two days caught up in a torrent stronger than the rain which soaked them both.

After only discerning part of her panicked explanation inbetween thunder rolls, the Captain granted the only request she would keep repeating. Which was to see Miss Ashcombe to the Chateau Anse and deliver her to Murin McDonough. He confirmed the Taylor should be there and instructed the desk clerk to take the soaked and now silent young woman to Murin. An extra coin or two and a look guaranted the clerk asked no further questions. Captain Lasseter again advanced out into the storm and made his way towards the wharfs.

[Black Mab]

Only blocks away from the square in which Captain Lasseter and Miss Ashcombe had collided, a sturdy tavern worker struggled with a shutter that had come loose of a window and was now banging loudly against the exterior wall of Le Chateau Anse. Light from the uncovered window filtered out, taunting the drenched repairman with a reminder of the dry and cheery common room. A glowing hearth welcomed wet and weary travelers, heated the space and filled it with light. Shadows danced on the faces of men warming their bellies with hot broth and ale, as others dried themselves around the fire or amused themselves with cards and dice. The tavern keeper stood at his bar, observing with satisfaction the scene spread before him, while back in the kitchens the cooks and staff bustled about preparing meals and keeping the cooking fires roaring. In the crowded room no one, not even the observant proprietor, paid any attention to a slender figure tucked into a corner on the far side of the hearth. A genderless being, wrapped in a dingy wool blanket and hidden beneath an oversized, floppy-brimmed hat, nothing about it attracted interest. The pair of eyes peeking from beneath the wide brim showed a great deal of interest in the rowdy proceedings of the room, however. The eyes were never still, never rested for long on one player in the cacophony. And yet, the creature seemed at all times to be watching the door. Watching, and waiting.

Patience quickly bore fruit - the door slammed open with the driving wind and rain and a pair of soaked travelers all but fell through the portal. Their entrance naturally attracted the notice of several tavern patrons, however, nothing about them raised interest save to one; the still and silent figure beside the hearth straightened slightly, shifting to adjust its view of the pair as the male traveler conversed with a clerk.

Of course the distance between the hearth and desk and the low din in the room, combined with the rain beating down outside, should have made eavesdropping nigh impossible. By luck or some darker design, a few words filtered through. A name, "McDonaugh." A word of instruction , and the all-to-obvious exchange of coins. It was enough. The eyes nearly hidden beneath the hat flickered with heightened interest and clearing comprehension. Wheels began to turn . . .

[Dorian Lasseter]

Arriving at the wharf, Captain Lasseter ducked into one of the storehouses to find a willing soul to row him out to his ship in the storm. He found one strapping fellow who would do it, for five times the normal rate. Dorian could not get the man to lower his price, which was understandable considering the weather. The Captain finally agreed and they stepped out into the rain and to his awaiting boat. It was quite a ride, but they arrived at the Heron well enough and after payment was made, Dorian climbed aboard and surveyed the deck. All was stowed down and battened, the watch covered in tarred coats and turned away from the wind. Nigel greeted the Captain with a salute and grim smile. Over the wind Dorian told him he would be below and with a nod, he headed into the ward room, out of the weather and shook off the water. He sloughed off his sodden coat and hung it up, along with his hat. He stripped off his weskit which was soaked through as well. He shivered slightly while pulling out dry clothes from his chest and began the process of changing into the dry clothes.

[William Brand]

August 1, 1704 - On the Cul de Sac Royal

The journey to the Watch Dog was one of the worst William could remember. The Cul de Sac Royal's once charming, almost picturesque seascape, was now a boiling cauldron of chop and white caps. The downpour was so severe that while half of the men rowed, the other half bailed, and yet, not a single man aboard the small boats complained or showed any sign that they were troubled. They fell into the old habits of the sea as easily as dropping into bed. Every man did his part to bring them safely across the short distance to where the Watch Dog lay at anchor.

"There she is men!" William shouted out over the weather. "Every one of you will come aboard the 'Dog for a time until I've had a word with Captain Lasseter about which of you is to join him on the Heron! She's that very able looking cutter there!" He pointed to the Heron which was bright with several lanterns, even in the rain. "Those of you who are to go to he Heron will find Captain Lasseter as capable and fair a man as you could ever hope to serve under. He's good to the men that give him a day's work and a finer Quartermaster I have never met."

The passed near enough to the Navarra that they were hailed and William took a chance to stand a little in the boat and tip his hat. A man in heavy oilskins that might have been the Lieutenant signaled back.

"Ahoy the Watch Dog!" William called, as they crossed that imaginary border that surrounds all vessels at anchor.

"Ahoy, Cap'n!" Miss Tudor Smith's strong, but feminine voice carried back and this raised a few of the recruits from their bent places at the oars. William noted that Oliver Randall smiled, and William shook his head, already certain that if he kept that man on the 'Dog he'd be dead within the week. The women might just gather in secret to be rid of him.

"New recuits, Miss Smith! Have Mister Woodington and Mister Hingerty meet me amidships!"

"Aye, aye, sah!"

~Larboard Watches on Duty~