The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Coxswain of the Heron had paced the small quarterdeck for several hours since the Captain had retired. He saw two boats head to the Watch Dog, one of which he clearly heard Mister Franklin call out from. Nigel had put the spyglass to his eye several times, watching the goings on. He watched Eric and Captain Brand on the quarterdeck, drinks in hand. It looked to be a quiet night. He called Smyth aft to the small spot of holly ground, giving the deck over to him so he might answer the call of nature. Walking to the head he passed other crew, nods and salutes were exchanged. Once he had finished his business he headed to his quarters. He checked on his pets he had kept first on the Watch Dog, now on the Heron. He opened the box and looked inside, smiled and reached a hand in. He pulled out one, then the other and held them up into the light. They were rats.

“How ye fairin’ Ash, Coal? Yer lovely you are…”

He looked at then, petted them for a short time and finally put them back in their box. He gently placed it back where he had it and straightened up his space and made his way back on deck. Nigel thanked Mister Smyth and took over the watch again.

Two Bells of the Mid Watch

2 August, 1704

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Between two and three bells of the Mid Watch

Eric dhad not seem inclined to make much conversation so William had obliged with casual silence. The time had passed with them watching the dark for nothing in particular and they eventually had parted one another's company. William retired later than he had expected and he found sleep easily.

Those recruits who had come aboard from the prison went to their duties and their hammocks respectively as easily as one might return to eating after a long day's work. though many of them had been imprisoned for some time, the routine of sea was not forgotten. Even Ned, only a guest for the present, fell asleep on the galley floor near one of the cooling cook stoves, having eaten a fair share of cold biscuits and hot broth. Jenny too, was fast asleep, too weary from flight not to escape into slumber.

Night aboard the frigate at anchor was quiet, and for the time being, uneventful.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Heron

Patrick O’Hara got the duty of Lookout during the early hours of predawn. At first he was giddy with the assignment, looking here and there, scrutinizing the other ships nearby with his glass, and generally spying on anything he could focus on. After two hours had passed, he was no longer giddy. As a point of fact, he was down right falling asleep with boredom. He would nod and bounce his head back up, shake it and look around. This became a routine every five to ten minutes until Nigel spotted him doing so. Instead of calling out to the lad and reprimanding him, he walked quietly to the ratlines and slowly began to ascend. He’d stop every time the lad looked around, waited until the boy settled in, then climbed higher. When he reached the base of the lookout post he waited. As Patrick started to nod, he reached up and grabbed him by the ankle. The boy let out a holler that could very well have woken the dead and dropped the glass, which he had luckily secured the lanyard to his wrist, so it only fell a short distance. His eyes, wide as saucers looked down at what had him. There was the Coxswain looking up at him, grinning an evil grin with laughter in his eyes.

“Now then, Mister O’Hara, will ye be awake enough for the rest of yer time as lookout?”

Once Patrick caught his breath he shakily answered with an ‘Aye, Sah’, knuckled his head and pulled the glass up into his hands. Nigel slowly backed down the ratlines, still grinning until he reached the deck, then resumed his place on the Holy Ground.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal

William awoke early and made ready to visit the Fort Royal Prison by the start of the Forenoon Watch. His body was not in agreement about this arrangement and his feet and back protested a little as he dressed for the day. True to form, Miss Smith arrived with warm fare and a pleasant disposition, and her side of the conversation took up most of what passed between them that morning. After a time, William steered the conversation towards business.

"I shall be at the prison today long enough to fetch out some forty men or more. Our dealings at Martinique are coming to a close, and I will not miss the opportunity to escort the Navarra if such a boon should be asked of us."

"Aye, sah." she replied, and she smiled at something private.

"You shall join me ashore to gather up merchants while I am at Fort Royal."

"Sah?" she returned.

"I mean to sell the bulk of the Maastricht goods left over in the hold, so we shall make them available at auction aboard the 'Dog. Please invite merchants from the larger collecting houses and perhaps a sugar baron or two. We'll have them assemble amidships at the close of the Afternoon Watch. I hope to have the new recruits stowed by then."

"Very good, sah." she agreed. "I shall hand pick an even dozen."

"Apostles of wealth." William mused aloud, though his thoughts were already on other matters.

"Just so." she said as she departed with tray in hand.

The preparations to go ashore continued. William called for Pascal and Samuel Standiford to join him in the boat for service ashore. While they gathered their muskets and pistols for the day's work, William took the last of the Ilex Fortune and placed it into two small bags to trade for specie with Monsieur Molyneaux. He also made a point of taking three of the finer bottles from the stern bench, that he might make gifts of them ashore. With all of this accomplished, Eric Franklin was given the quarterdeck and William went over and down into the longboat where Tudor and the others waited.

The morning was a mix of light and dark clouds. The morning was cold for Martinique and an unlikely fog clung to the Eastern edge of the Cul du Sac Royal. Still it didn't last, for even this was burning off under the sun and the day promised to be pleasant enough for their business. As William had hoped, they were ashore and already bound for the prison when the ships on the bay began ringing the eight bells which ended the Morning Watch and heralded the beginning of the next.

Eight bells of the Morning Watch. Forenoon Watch begins.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve woke with a start as she nearly fell out of bed. Heart pounding, she started laughing as she barely caught herself from taking a spill. Somehow, in the middle of the night, she had edged closer and closer to the precipice of the bed as, uncharacteristically, Briar’s person took over the whole of the bed. Briar did not stir as Maeve grasped the side table and lowered herself onto the floor, sliding completely out from beneath the blankets. She shivered in the morning cold. Her companion seemed content to sleep in, especially after a previous nights’ disturbed sleep, so Maeve grabbed her things quietly and crept downstairs. She peeked in on their patient who stirred as she entered the room, but did not come fully awake. Some of his regular pallor seemed to be returning. She smiled at this, drew the blankets back up around Mr. Pew, and stoked up the fire in the room.

Upon dressing and making a reasonable arrangement of her messy hair, Maeve set about stoking up the fire in the main room and in the kitchen stove as well. She set out a large pot of water to gently boil, and then brought a glass of water, weak spirits, and a few cold biscuits into Mr. Pew’s room for him should he wake while she was out and about, or before Briar awoke.

Maeve grabbed a sack of money and Briar’s shopping list, tucking both securely within her skirts, and headed out into the cold, damp morning. Besides buying the items on Briar’s list, her additional goal this morning would be to ask one of the Watch Dog crew on the docks for recommendations on how and where to find reliable and safe passage for Ms. Kildaire. Much to her frustration, she had utterly forgotten to question Mr. Lasseter about such when he had been there the night before. It had also failed to cross her mind while having a conversation with Mr. Pew yesterday. So, she resigned herself to taking a nice walk down to the docks. The fresh air and exercise would do her good.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Heron

Captain Lasseter had slept well enough through the night. He had be awakened by a shout at one point, but since no other noise of the like followed, he settled back into slumber. When the seventh bell of the Morning Watch had sounded, he opened his eyes, realizing he has slept past sunrise. Stretching he slowly roller out of his hammock and landed squarely on his feet. Pacing over to the table he lay his pistol there and stretched in ernest, touching the overhead with his palms. He yawned and swung his arms about, getting the blood flowing. After a wash and drinking two cups of water he dressed and just as the change of the watch, made his way on deck, smelling coffee as he opened the door. Up on the quarterdeck stood the Coxswain. His eyes were slightly puffy and he held a steaming mug. He nodded and greeted Dorian as he approached.

“Mornin’ Cap’n… a chill this morn, but all’s well. Cap’n Brand has gone ashore not long ago.”

Dorian nodded and a shiver went through him. He eyed the mug in Nigel’s hand, nodding his head to it he asked a question just as he took a drink.

“How’s th’ coffee this morn?”

Nigel swallowed a mouthful with almost a look of pain. He politely spit out some grinds away from the Captain.

“It’s…. passable, Cap’n… barely…”

Dorian held back a laugh.

“We shall see that remedied soon enough, old man… Cap’n Brand’ll be sending us an honest to god cook with th’ new recruits some time this day. Sadly, that means we’ll be either demotin’ Miss Moore ta cooks assistant…”

Nigel gave the Captain a raised eyebrow.

“Sadly? That’s a blessin’ Sah.”

Dorian cracked a smile and chuckled.

“Aye, Nigel… a true cook will be quite welcomed aboard, by one and all I think.”

Both men nodded in agreement and not long after they spoke of her, Miss Moore appeared with a steaming mug for the Captain. Dorian hoped she remembered he was not much for coffee, but rather tea in the morning. Luck held out for him, as she presented him with just that, hot tea.

“Morning captain, your morning tea?”

“Aye Miss Moore, thankee… How are you this day?”

“I fare well, captain, as I hope you do?”

“Aye Gerl, I do… Thank you.”

She nodded and quickly saluted before retreating towards the bow. Both men watched her go then looked to each other. Dorian blew on his tea and took a sip. He looked into the mug and fished out some loose leaves, and pulled one off his lip. He shrugged and decided he’d have a talk with her later.

“Nigel…. Yer relieved, I have th’ deck, get some sleep. Oh, by the way, what was that yelling last night?”

The Coxswain tried to hide a smile and cleared his throat.

“Nothin’ ta be worried about, Sah. Just teachin’ a lesson ta one o’ th’ lads.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows and slowly shook his head.

“I see… Off with you.”

“Aye, Sah.”

Captain Lasseter was then left to the rest of the morning as the port began another bustling day.

First Bell of the Forenoon Watch

2 August, 1704

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - The docks of St. Louis

Between one and two bells of the Forenoon Watch

With Tudor, Pascal, Samuel and the Captain gone, Brenton, Teeke, Luigi and Drewes found themselves once again ashore with nothing to do but mind the longboat and wait for the Starboard Watches to make their way to port. It wasn't likely that any able seaman would return to the ship before six bells of their watch, so Brenton and Drewes were content to rest in the small boat while Luigi and Teeke passed the time by learning a little of the other's language.

Teeke Ranst had been born on a farm nestled almost squarely between Arnhem & Nijmegen of the Netherlands. Nijmegen, Holland's oldest town, had offered Teeke many opportunities for education and apprenticeship, but sadly it had not offered him a second language. While Teeke had been educated in literature of his own nation, his understanding of the world at large had not been improved until he had put to sea. Still, he had been brought up as a straight forward fellow and trained as a gifted arkwright. This training had lead him to a comfortable position aboard two ships prior to the Maastricht, always serving in conjunction with the carpenters of those vessels.

It took Luigi some time to decipher all of this through trial and error as the two men traded limited vocabulary back and forth. Brenton would occasionally offer his opinion from the bottom of the longboat on one word or another until Luigi was convinced that he understood Teeke's background well enough to appreciate the man and sailor. Much of this was accomplished by hand gestures and sounds as much as language, but it made the time slip quickly by. Luigi had just begun to explain the various parts of the longboat in English and Teeke had only begun echoing them in Dutch when the shadow of a woman fell over the boat.

Maeve O'Treasaigh had arrived with questions about the Watch Dog.

~Larboard Watches on Duty~

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve smiled politely at the two boatmen. “Good mornin’ ta both of ya. Would I be correct in guessin’ that this is a boat belongin’ to the Watch Dog of Captains Brand and Lasseter?”, she asked.

The two visible men looked back at her, and she was surprised when two more men popped up into view, looking for the voice that addressed the men of the boat. She noted that all of them were carrying fire arms.

Luigi answered. He was very direct and brief. “Aye. What’s your business with d’ Capitans?”

“I’ve made the acquaintance of both captains by way of taking care of Mr. Pew”, she explained. “I’m wondering if either one of ‘em might be about. I would question them about the best way ta go about findin’ passage on a ship, and if they knew of anyone in particular or had trusted contacts here in port with whom to inquire about such”.

Luigi regarded her and the others seemed to content to allow Luigi to take the lead in the matter. “Our tenks for taking care of Mr. Pew, but Capitan Brand has already gone ashore for d’ day and Capitan Lasseter es aboard the Heron and likely too busy to be bothered with such a question as could be answered by talkin’ to such as d’ merchant ships here”.

Maeve was taken back a bit, but also not entirely surprised by such an answer. She was about to open her mouth to say “thank you” when Luigi gestured, pointing further down along the docks. “You might try one of d’ merchant ships d’er. See if one of d’em is bound for a nice place like New France or even Spain”, he said with his first smile of the entire interchange.

“My thanks to ya sir”, she said politely and moved off down the docks.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - Fort Royal

William and Pascal arrived at the prison together between two bells of the Forenoon Watch, Samuel having gone with Miss Smith on her errands. William and Pascal were once more put through the agonizing process of showing their papers and making their wishes known to the prison authorities. William explained that he would be taking as many new recruits as the written documents allowed, just as he had done before. He would be adding these to those men already removed and that he wished to be quick about the selection, having other business ashore.

Louis de Mallevaud, the Commandant of Marines at Fort Royal Prison, was an exacting man, and he read the documents entirely from beginning to end. William did not present any outward protest to this, but waited patiently until the matter had been settled entirely. Once the Commandant was satisfied to all the formal points of the matter, he instructed Lieutenant Bedeau to attend William while in the Prison. William and Bedeau exchanged renewed introductions through Pascal, having already met once before when the Maastricht and Heron prisoners had come ashore. Then William thanked the Commandant and presented him with one of the three bottles he had brought with him from the 'Dog. It went a long way to softening the rigid officer's countenance and he walked with them across one of the fort parade grounds until they reached the prison entrance.

Once inside, William went immediately to stand before the cells he had visited on the previous day and he again announced his intentions to give those men place and pardon who would now join him aboard the 'Dog. Then he waited for the first of them to step forward.

Two bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Pew]

Eric had a fretful night of sleep. Preston's letter weighed heavily on his mind as did the Captain's reply. He leaned his elbows on the rail and watched as the port returned to it's commerce. As the officer on watch he rubbed his eyes repeatedly to try and join the living. Eric turned and sent Little Jean below for a cup of Mister Gage's finest. The young boy returned soon after with a steaming tankard.

"Jean," Eric fished around for his keys, "Jean, fetch 's th' armoury log. Top drawer 'n th' right." He tossed his keys to the boy. "Anyone bu' yerself 'n there, 'n it's yer arse."

Jean took his commands seriously. He stood at attention and saluted the officer on the watch. In a rush, the boy was gone again.

Eric turned back to look ashore. He remembered the words Preston spoke barely a month ago, "...new days always be bringin 'bouts new beginnin's Mr. Franklin."

"That they do, Mister Pew, that they do," Eric said to no one in particular.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Aboard The Watch Dog - The Surgery

Miss Ashcombe dreamed of riding in a carriage. It swayed oddly rather than jarred as carriages usually do, as she tried to sleep in its ornate, but hardly cushioned seat. It seemed close and stuffy despite the large empty interior of red and gold brocade. A swell of the incoming tide rocked the Watch Dog and the carriage pitched wildly waking her from the illusion her tired mind had invented. Jenny opened her eyes still trying to make sense of the motion and the scarce light. Sudenly recalling her whereabouts and the events of the previous night she sat bolt upright. "Murin?" Jenny called out before she was able to stop herself. But there was no answer. She stared into the darker reaches of the ward willing her eyes to focus and see whether the girl Meg was still there. The room was stuffy and stale. Muffled voices and goings on could be heard above the surgery. Jenny's mind raced. Had she made a terrible mistake? Had Murin unwittingly led her to the fate she was running from? Only to have the Captain in his annoyance decide to turn her over, wishing no trouble for him and his ships as they readied to leave port? After all a sum not yet offered for passage likely could not outweigh the trouble she might visit upon them by association. Surely he did not need her money after bringing such a wealth in prizes ashore. Jenny had seen the crews and the wages they spent with obvious ease. This was not a ship in the need of either her cause or her coin. The heat of the day had begun to make its way into the interiors of the ship and the unfamiliar sounds outside gave her no hint of the time. Perhaps she had slept late into the afternoon and there were already men on their way to collect her. For a moment she mused if they could have simply forgotten her. If Murin had gone ashore and the strangely quiet girl in the corner could not identify her, she could be put in irons if discovered unexplained aboard ship. Deciding that perhaps the young girl was too infirm to speak, Jenny gathered her parcel and slid down from the cot. She made her way as quietly as she could across the surgery and towards the door. Hearing no motion from the corner she placed a hand upon the latch and opened it a mere crack. Jenny immediately shut her eyes as the light struck them. She opened them slowly and peered out to the passageway. The smell of coffee reached her nose and her stomach suddenly felt like stone. She narrowed her eyes and looked for the way out thinking mayhaps she could just walk off the ship..just walk quickly..and then run. As she turned to her left again, Jenny drew in her breath sharply finding a pair of green eyes looking back.

[Jack Roberts]

"...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." decreed a man. I woke to hear just the trailing end of the spiel.

"What he'd say he was here for?" I asked a cell mate of mine, rising to the cell door.

"He's lookin for some someone to go sailin with him and he's crew." rasped the old man beside me. "Looks like you won't have to stay vera long after all, ehh?"

"No I suppose not." I replied as I waved my hand through bars, grasping for this Captain's attention.

"Well good turn of luck." I thought to meself.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - Fort Royal Prison

Two men stepped forward at once, followed by a third further along the corridor. The first two were crewmates, formerly of the warship, Bullrush, an English naval vessel of twenty eight guns and one hundred and eighty persons lost to the French in a skirmish off of Barbados. The first of the two men, John Stares, had served as a boatheader aboard the Bullrush. He was a tall man of thick arms and long thinning hair. His upper lip was curled back on one side from an old scar long ago healed and he was missing the ring finger on his left hand. He explained that he was from London proper and had been a tallow chandler before signing aboard the Bullrush some five years back.

The second man was Mathew Campion, the former second mate of the Bullrush. He was young for an officer and he bore the attitude of high society on him, despite a long confinement at Fort Royal. He had listened to the interaction between Captain Brand and John Stares without interruption. Now, as he spoke, he proved polite and brief and he asked and answered every question put to him with exactness. While they seemed curious and affable enough, Mathew Campion and John Stares did not immediately agree to come aboard the 'Dog, but they said they would converse with the other men from the Bullrush and come to a decision post haste.

While they conversed, William made his way down to the third man. "What's your name, man, and what service have you seen?"

Three bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Jack Roberts]

"Well sir, me name be Jack... Jack Roberts."

"I've served on several ships since I was lad. In various roles aboard.

I've helped with a gun a time or two and can run up the ratlines with best of 'em." My mind was racing for anything of my previous experience. Being in this rat hole has clouded my thoughts. I didn't want trust the Capn't with all of me secrets just yet.

"You see I've really just helped were it was needed. Just put me anywere, 'cept the cookin." I leaned in closer "You see I never been good at the cookin, there Capt'n." I said, cracking a smile. "I certainly hope to be of service to you sir?"

[Silkie McDonough]

Ben pondered all night upon the whispers from his prison mates of a captain looking for able bodied seamen; those who chose to work for the captain of two vessels sailing under the French flag would be granted freedom. He considered where his loyalties lie. What did he owe England? Had they done well by him? What had he to for his service? He had survived their wars and defended their cargo a number of times, faced scurvy on their ships twice, lost a finger, and was now imprisoned.

Freedom.

He considered what was offered, what was really offered?

This darkness does something horrid to one too long there, draining them, keeping them from themselves. He longed to see sunlight that was not obscured by bars and cobwebs, toonce again to be out where he always felt close to his maiden, the sea. He wondered what sort of man might be here combing a French prison for crew. Then he recalled whispers of some new prisoners from a Dutch merchant ship that had been captured. He had fought one of those prisoners only a few days back. This captain could be a privateer. He thought, could Mister Benjamin Quigley work for such a man?

This vessel of free men …he stood slowly as the shouts of the captain’s return to the prison pass from cell to cell. He would wait; he wanted to see this captain, size him up, meet him, see what crew he would choose, look him in the eye and measure what sort of man was looking back. He had questions too, many questions about what this captains definition of "freedom" may be. Then he would make his decision. To accept freedom from this prison and find oneself bound to indentured servitude was a choice but cound be a fool’s choice.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - Fort Royal Prison

William had seen a great many able seamen put to see with no experience whatsoever, so he was prepared to accept a few new recruits with ouch much reassurance of their training or background. Jack looked healthy enough, and with a few meals in him and a steady routine of work and rest in shifts, he would be as capable as any other aboard, so William hired him on this short interview alone. "Welcome aboard, Mister Roberts."

One of the guards in the Lieutenant's charge stepped forward and released the man. He instructed Jack to stand at the head of the corridor, the first in a long line that day. Jack was followed within the hour by seven survivors from the Bullrush, including Mathew Campion, John Stares, Thomas Norman, Peter Norman, Charles Goddon, John Kingsman, and Simon Buttery. To these, William added fourteen men of the merchant ship, Caleb Hudson. Stephen Hudless, James Booker, John Mortimer, George Cosset, Christopher Newstubb, Thomas Wheateham, John Clovely, Nicholas Trodd, Edmund Wigg, Henry Church, Alexander Sparshott, Samuel Milling, Roger Reeves and Richard Legatt all took their place in the line that now stretched out into the antechamber off the corridor of cells.

William had passed most of the daylight cells by now, a nickname referring to those cells above ground gifted with windows. These were closest to the entrance of the prison and were thus afforded some additional light from the large barred doors off of the antechamber. The men here were healthier as a rule, but not all. William had passed up a few men that were not long for the world, though he hating doing so, but with one exception. Peter Norman, already standing in the recruited line, had been weakened by several bouts of illness while in captivity, but his shipmates had insisted that William would have to take all of them or none at all, so he had acquiesced.

Now, standing in the darkest end of the corridor, William found himself standing before the last of the daylight cells. To his left he could see and smell the stairs leading to the lower corridor. The stench coming up from them reminded him of his own recent imprisonment in the bilge. He smiled ruefully.

Four bells of the Forenoon Watch

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Watch Dog

Miss McDonough chuckled as Miss Ashcombe jumped, her eyes widening at the lass' sudden appearance. In each hand was a steaming cup of Mister Gages perfect brew capped with a biscuit for each. “Come lass, yar safe ere.” Murin was not smiling as to chase away real fears but wore a calm confident expression in the face of reality. “Come inta’da sunlight let it warm yer face after yesterdays rain.” Murin, squinting at brightness of the day, her limp all but gone, she lead Jenny onto the open of the weather deck. The crew at work moved about so the women mad their way quickly past the larboard quarterdeck stairs and sat tucked forward of Zeus.

Murin did not want to leave her friend alone aboard the Watch Dog as a guest but she had business ashore that she had not completed the day before. There were more merchants who had orders for various parts and materials to be used for the Mariners uniforms. She also hoped to check in on Mister Pew and keep him informed about progress on said uniforms. Also, in the back of her mind she wanted to see Alder once again. She would take her books to him and ask for a lesson if he had time. Her mind rushed to that moment when he had lifted her from the ground yesterday. That “deafening” awkward silence in his arms that lasted far too short a time for her liking, he had not pulled her to him and had not kissed her though she had longed for him to do so. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps he had no interest in her as a woman and saw her only as a child.

“MEEReen?” Jenny repeated.

Miss McDonough’s glance shifted slowly from the distance that she had been focused on, “Hm?”

“Ye’ were a bit distant for a moment.”

“M’sorey lass. Wot d’were ya’sayin?”

Jenny mentioned her fears to Murin, who perhaps a bit naively, assured Miss Ashcombe she had no need to fear. Murin then directed the conversation away from Jenny’s fleeing to the goings on board the Watch Dog.

Miss McDonough and Miss Ashcombe sipped at their coffee and nibbled at their biscuits. Murin explained that she still had business to attend to in Martinique and a room at Le Chateau Anse and how she longed to dress as a woman and dance once again for it had been so long. Knowing now that Jenny was a friend and that she could be trusted Murin began to reveal bits and pieces of her past. Jenny clearly understood why, after over three years as a slave, Murin longed to dance and sing. Their biscuits gone except for the crumbs that lay on Murin’s chest, the crew member offered the guest a tour of her home.

[Black Mab]

Ned had been awakened before dawn by a sharp jab in the ribs. Through a groggy haze, his first instinct was to cry out and curl into a ball, arms over his head. A strong hand caught him around the wrist and jerked him roughly to his feet. At the same time, a gruff but not unfriendly voice informed him, "You told me you'd work for your food, and work you shall. Dawn's nigh upon us and the men will be wantin' their breakfast. Now get movin'!"

Shaking his head to clear the last of his sleepy vapors, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him. For the first time in weeks - no, in months - hunger did not gnaw at his belly and damp cold did not stiffen his limbs. Eager to maintain this trend and to hold up his end of his promise to the captain who'd taken him in, Ned was quick to follow the cook's instructions in stoking the ovens, fetching water for coffee, stirring the vats of thick oatmeal and keeping a weather eye turned to the rapidly-browning biscuits half-buried in glowing coals.

Men came and went, most ignoring him completely, focused on the business of filling their mugs with coffee and their bellies with hot food. Bells sounded from time to time, marking the hour, but Ned was kept so busy running back and forth for this and the other that he scarcely paid them any mind. He brightened up when Miss McDonough entered the galley, but kept his distance from her, hoping she wasn't still upset with him for trying to rob her. She ignored him, although he watched her cross to the surgery and later emerge with her shy friend of the night before. Feeling a bit of solidarity with them - after all, they'd all come aboard together - Ned looked away and tried to ignore the feeling of being left out. Well, he'd sworn he wasn't a true thief and he'd show her and the Captain and all the rest. Cooking wasn't exactly his strength but once upon a time, in some half-remembered former life, he had been able to find his way around a kitchen - particularly the growing stacks of soiled pots, pans and assorted dishes - and the business gradually came back to him.

By the time Ned and Master Gage, for somewhere beneath the mound of now-sparkling pots the cook had introduced himself, had completed the washing-up and had indulged in a mug of coffee (still hot, for it seemed to brew constantly) and a slightly-hardened biscuit, it was nearly time to start preparation on the mid-day meal. The endless cycle was comforting to Ned. There was nothing dangerous to peeling potatoes and carrying water. The endless labor gave him something tangible to focus on, and he never needed to fear that the Captain might catch him standing idle.

[Maeve O'Treasaigh]

Maeve continued slowly down the docks, meeting with disappointment and discouragement. Several men turned her away politely, some not so politely. Many were vague and seemed untrustworthy, especially when she got to the part about the passenger being a woman. A few were greedy and asked far too large a price. So far, those that had agreed they would take Briar on board as a passenger gave her a queasy feeling. Briar’s safety would be dubious at best. Mostly, however, she continually ran into the problem of sailors’ superstitions about having a woman on board. They were reticent, and some were downright adamantly against the idea. It made her wonder how the situation worked on the Watch Dog. What a truly unusual arrangement they had. Indeed, what a truly unusual captain and crew to seemingly not bat an eye at the idea of having so many women on board. Maeve was becoming so discouraged that she toyed with the idea of returning when one of the captains was available to perhaps ask if they wouldn’t mind taking aboard just one more woman. This one didn’t know the way of ships, but she could certainly pay for her passage.

Sighing, the chirurgeon, continued down the docks, her eyes settling upon a rather friendly looking ship named La Esperanza. Perhaps she would find luck there.

[Pew]

Little Jean had been gone longer than he should have. Eric moved to the waist and suddenly he heard several thuds and glass breaking. He then saw Jean's head pop up the ladder stairs.

"Misser Franklin QUICK!!"

[Silkie McDonough]

Fort Royal Prison

Ben finally saw the man who belonged to the only voice he had heard consistently all morning as the recruiter made his way from cell to cell down the length of the corridor to the doorstep of the last cell on the block. Physically a match to him, perhaps less broad in the chest, dressed as any captain should, Ben stood his hands wrapped lightly around the bars and his shoulders filling the width of the doorway. The other men in the cell showed interest in the captain also but there was no room in the doorway. Mister Quigley waited a moment while the man outside their door stood looking to the stairway just beyond this last cell, a look of reminiscence upon his face, Ben spoke.

“I hear tell you offer freedom to a skilled sailor?” The man in the black frock coat turned his wry grin towards the man in the cell. “I do if that man is of a will to work in his freedom.” Ben raised an eyebrow “To work or to slave?” Captain Brand once again repeated the words that he had said when he entered the place, this was not the first time he needed repeat himself to nor, he thought, would it be the last.

“My name Is, Benjamin Matthias Quigley. I am a sailor since the age of my first apprenticeship. I am better than most working the lines, splicing and tying. I have skills as a blacksmith and am a fair shot. I offer a strong back and skilled hands.” He paused; he wanted to feel the grip of his handshake, look him in the eye in the daylight but for now, would have to observe the man’s movements and expressions to gain knowledge of him. Ben wore an expression that could not be misinterpreted. He had learned that far too often the demons of a contract lie within the unspoken details. “This freedom you offer? What is expected of a man and what may he expect at the end of that day?” If Ben were to give up his country he wanted to know what reasoning he could give himself. Life could not just be better than now; if he expected to fight and kill men that he once worked side by side with he needed to be sure that life would be better than before.

[William Brand]

"Sailors never end the day." William began, grateful to be asked the simplest of questions. "But a man aboard the 'Dog or Heron will end every other watch in good company. Any man that serves aboard our ships will sup as well as I do. He'll know a certain freedom known no where else. A pistol and a good knife will be added to those clothes newly tailored which are made only for him. He'll retire under a new blanket with the knowledge that his worth is not unknown or disregarded. He'll have shoes for the working days and shoes for shore. That man who signs with me will have me for his defense and I him. The 'Dog and the Heron are not nations of French or Spain, gentlemen. We are but allies."

The corridor was quiet. William thought some of his words might have struck a cord, but to counterpoint all of these finer points, he took out some of the Ilex fortune and poured it into Pascal's cupped hands. The corridor was dark, but some of the stones and precious metals still managed a gleam that was not lost on the men who pressed against the small doors of the cells.

[Pew]

Eric lept down the companionway into the berth deck. Luc followed behind closely from his post near the bow.

Four men were landing blows upon each other with the full fury of Hell's minions behind them. Luc grabbed the closest man and wrapped his arm around the man's neck and shoulder and spun him to the bulkhead slowing the rage. Eric grabbed the next man and spun him backwards. Alan had jumped in to break up the fray as well. By then, several crew from the Watch Dog had stepped in to separate the parties.

"DAMN YOU WHORESONS!! TO THE QUARTERDECK!!" Eric bellowed. He stood in the middle of the berth deck and seethed.

[Silkie McDonough]

Benjamin weighed the words of this captain. The timber of his voice, the inflection of his tones, these words were not being spouted off as if memorized but as if written on soul of the man. This captain believed what he told these men and in that had relayed the truth he spoke. The crewman with him also spoke volumes in regard to his actions. His confidence and his respect for his captain were evident in his willingness to assist, helping others communicate and find good men that he would work along side. Seeing the glistening stones in the captains hand, finding truth and hope in his words Benjamin made his decision “Captain I would like to join your crew and find what life remains beyond these four walls.” His words were likely lost in the din created as nearly everyman in the surrounding cells. He would wait, what else had he to do.

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Watch Dog

Murin was headed towards the galley to return the now empty mugs when the sounds of a scuffel below deck were heard. Heavy thuds, breaking glass followed by Jean Dorleac calling for Mister Franklin. Eric rushed past teh woman from the quarterdeck to the companionway. There were more thuds and grunts from below when Mister Franklins voice bellowed "DAMN YOU WHORESONS!! TO THE QUARTERDECK!!" Hearing the anger in that statement Murin knew not to stay anywhere near so she hurried Jenny into the galley.

Miss McDonough noted Ned hard at work and pointed him out to Jenny as they left the room. While they toured the berth deck Murin gathered what little she had brought on board with her last night. As Murin and Jenny toured the Watch Dog they heard rumors of additional guests coming on board, merchants and wealthy men. When they returned to the weather deck as Murin was pointing out the Heron to a less than interested audience Jenny interrupted. “Murin, these men the crew whisper of, my uncle could be among them! Even if my uncle does not come aboard the men of affluence in this city associate with each other and could know my uncle or even know me!” Her voice quivered in fear. The terror in Jenny’s eyes and the blue and yellow of a healing bruise could not be denied. Miss McDonough felt for the woman and understood the fears of pursuit and the pain of physical abuse. She had endured that pain on the plantation and the same fear during the days she had escaped the Hodge plantation until the day of the mutiny aboard the Apollo. “Stay here.” Murin left Jenny at the rail looking at the Heron and went to seek the officer on deck to inquire what could be done. She doubted their little tour had lasted long enough to allow Mister Franklin time enough to attend to whatever scuffle had taken place below deck but she would speak to him as soon as that matter had been attended to.