The Watch Dog

[Red Cat Jenny]

A flock of birds all calling and squaking drummed at her conciousness, slowly melting into voices and shouts still unintelligable as they rose and fell around her. Jenny opened her eyes to a confusing blur of light and color. She felt herself being lifted and the exagerated motion made her head swim. She struggled to move but limbs would not agree. As she was turned in a circle, the queasy motion was replaced by sharp pain. Releasing a weak moan Jenny closed her eyes aginst the sensations and wondered as she fell from conciousness again, if the detached sound she uttered was her own.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Aboard the Heron

Captain Lasseter had watched through the glass as things transpired on the bay. Mister Tucker had done as ordered and was back at Dorian’s side.

“Mister Tucker, run up the French colours and be quick about it.”

“Aye, Sah!”

In short order the large flag was waving in the breeze above them all. Dorian looked about the bay and the ramparts of the fort, now dotted with soldiers. He clenched his teeth and slowly shook his head.

“Th’ Devil ta pay…”

“Sah?”

“Nothin’ Mister Tucker…”

“Ah, aye, Sah…”

Dorian heard the distinct voice of Captain Brand shouting orders and turned his glass towards his voice. There he was in a boat with several men. Men he did not recognize.

“Them new recruits must be thinking they’s got themselves itna somethin’ no good. We’ll see how it’ll turn out. Mister Tucker, who was injured?”

The Bo’sun held up a finger and dashed off to the waist to garner the information requested by the Captain. He soon returned and knuckled his brow.

“Cap’n, the injured crewman, er, well, is a woman.”

Dorian snapped his neck around to look at the Bo’sun. His brow creased as he did not remember a woman being on the list of new recruits for the Heron. Thrusting the glass into the Bo’sun’s hands the Captain turned.

“Keep a watch on the situation out there, I’ll be back.”

This new information was not making things any better. Dorian headed to the waist where a crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces gathered around a prone figure. Those that knew him stood back and saluted, the others who were new saw this and reacted the same. The Captain knelt down and looked at the person laying there, dressed in sailor’s rig, bloodied and unconscious. Yes, it was a woman, her hair now matted with blood and half over her face.

“Someone fetch water an’ a clean rag, now.”

Several of the men hustled off and soon a pail and cloth were presented. Dorian wet the cloth and wiped away some of the blood, loosening her hair from her face. A moment later her identity came to him. He mouthed her name and was stunned for an instant.

“You there, and you, gently take this woman to the ward room and lay her on the cot within. Find Miss Moore and have her attend to her wounds.”

The men knuckled their forelocks and did as ordered, others went to find Miss Moore as Dorian stood waiting for them to return. Soon all were back on deck and looking to the Captain for orders. Standing before them in his shirtsleeves, cutlass in hand, he was quite a sight. Taking a breath to calm his voice he addressed the crew.

“For those of you just arrived, I am Captain Dorian Lasseter. Whatever it is that has happened here is most irregular. Bare that in mind for the moment and when this is all sorted out, we’ll have proper introductions. At the moment just do as yer told and all will be righted. Am I understood?”

“Aye-Aye, Sah!”

“Excellent… General quarters if you please! Find a place to stand and be at the ready if you don’t have an assigned area!”

The men scrambled to their positions and once found all was still. Dorian nodded once and slowly made his way back to the Holy Ground. There he saw the Jollywatt returning with other craft, one of which was a bloodied funeral barge.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - On the Cul du Sac Royal

Three Bells of the Afternoon Watch

"Ahoy the Heron!" William called and he was soundly answered as he made his approach. Eric Franklin raised his hat in the air from the rails of the Watch Dog and William made his intentions to go aboard the Heron known at a distance with a gesture in the cutter's general direction.

"Wot news, Captain?" Dorian shouted from the Heron, but William was close enough by then that the news was as plain to him as any other man, despite the great many questions that could not be answered.

"I have none, but this corpse." William returned, looking perplexed and not a little angry. "I had thought to ask you the same."

The boats were all near enough now that several of them tied up alongside the Heron. William stepped from one small boat to the other and bent over the fallen man even as he ordered the remaining men meant for the frigate sent onward to the 'Dog. The dead man was shot some six times. Three musket balls had found almost the same target right above his heart, a testament to the firing drills conducted by Pew, Eric and even Bill. One ball had passed through the man's left eye and the remaining two had struck him in the guts.

"And who are you, sah...?" William asked the cooling corpse.

Dorian was making his way down the side of the Heron. "Who is he?"

William shook his head, but said, "French, by the look of the garments." This conclusion was of course ambiguous, being too obvious to be conclusive. Martinique was French and any man there might have such clothing, French or not. In fact, many of the men on the frigate and cutter did have such clothing. Still, William saw no reason to reason it out any other way, for as they searched the body they found French coin, a French pistol, and all manner of minor clues of the same national origin.

"This is an ill omen." William said just loud enough that only Dorian might here it. "What the devil happened?"

[Dorian Lasseter]

At William’s question Dorian’s breath slowly hissed out of his nose.

“I wish I knew, Will… New men were comin’ over from th’ ‘Dog ta th’ Heron, I was b’low an’ all hell broke loose. Mister Tucker had th’ deck, all he says is we were fired upon and the crew rightly defended th’ ship.”

He looked at the body and shook his head. Dorian spoke to the man, as if he could hear him.

“You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Monsieur… A whole lot of trouble…”

Dorian looked around at the others in the boats around them and spotted Luc.

“Luc, you were in th’ boat, what happened there?”

Luc explained what happened, that as he was about to board the shot splintered the hull right infront of him, after that, it was every man for themselves. Dorian looked back to William.

“By the way, when did Miss Ashcombe come aboard? And why was she sent over to the Heron? She was injured in the chaos, Miss Moore is attendin’ to ‘er presently in the ward room.”

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - At the Heron

"I did not send her over."

This was all that William said for the moment, though he looked equally surprised that she should be on the Heron, having already sought sanctuary aboard the Watch Dog. His brow furrowed and he searched the dead man once more. This search yielded no additional evidence to the man's purpose. The man himself was rather plainly dressed, but not so plain that he might have been a man of some worth about in clothes for the working day. He was some several days unshaven, but this might served to demonstrate nothing for he might have been on the hunt for some time or in the habit of less grooming. His hat was in good shape as hats often were if well cared for. In the end there was no clue strong enough to denote anything apart from the fact that he had fired upon the Heron or the Samson.

"She was injured...?" William asked, returning suddenly to the subject of Miss Ashcombe.

"Appears t' have fallen."

William plucked up the musket which was also of French make. It was a good looking weapon. Well cared for. Clean. He sited down the barrel and passed it to Dorian and said, "Suicide."

"Aye." Dorian agreed, looking about the bay and the many onlookers, for the man had fired with no thought for his immediate neighbors, nor had the man considered cover enough for his own safety. "Daylight in 'n open boat..."

William nodded and then shook his head at the fallen assassin, if assassin is what he was. "He'd have had little cover even in the dark."

"Revenge...?" Dorian offered.

"Perhaps." William wondered aloud. "But against whom?"

They called for those that had been in the Jollywatt, almost at the same time. Every man who had been aboard the Samson was asked to look at the body and answer to his identity. Not one man who had come over or any other person aboard the Heron could say that they knew the man or had ever seen him. Luc was questioned several times, having come nearest to meeting his end, but Luc could only say that he 'couldn't say' whether he had been the intended target or no.

By now enough time had elapsed that a boat from Fort Royal was inbound.

"Damn and Hell together." William muttered.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Pew]

Eric watched across the harbor as both Captains investigated the odd skirmish. He saw through the glass Luc being the key witness as he poked his finger into the splintered piece of the hull and tried to form some explanation. He moved the glass to the deck of the Heron and saw Lucky Tuck pointing towards shore. Eric put the glass down to wait for his vision to correct and peered towards the docks. A longboat filled with French Marines rapidly closed in on the Heron.

"An 'ere we go," Eric said to no one in particular.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian only had a moment to wonder why Miss Ashcombe was sent over from the Frigate to his Cutter. Still holding dead man’s musket he saw the boat full of French marines on approach as William muttered an oath.

“Aye, let th’ show begin, got nothin’ ta hide here…”

Dorian stood in the boat along with William and smiled as the french marines bent their backs pulling towards them. In the bow stood a man, the silver braid on his uniform made him to be a Lieutenant. As the boat closed with them, Captain Lasseter noticed that the lieutenant appeared rather young. The soldiers behind him looked to be much older, twice the officer’s age even.

“Th’ Leftenant’s a young pup… Lets hope he’s got nothin’ ta prove.”

William just nodded and watched as the boat skimmed up and turned, men grabbing onto the sides of the other boat and the lieutenant touched the edge of his hat.

“Je suis Lieutenant Turcotte de la garnison, qui sont vous et vous vous inquiéteriez pour expliquer tout ceci ?”

[BriarRose Kildare]

London, England

Tobias Johnson was not a happy man. He had just come from his lordships town house with strict instructions on what was to be done with the young girl. He pursed his lips as he walked back to his office. He needed to think things through. His lordship was not a man to be trifled with in any way. Yet he had to consider his other client as well. Tobias realized that he was in a quandary. He thought on the young girl taking a moment to remove a small miniature from his pocket to look at her face once more. He could understand his lordship’s desire, yet feared that his possessiveness would cause this young woman much pain and agony if he were to follow through with his instructions.

As he reached the building where his business was he went in and greeted several of his clerks before going back to his own secluded office. Sitting down he placed the miniature in front of him. He needed to find out more information about this young woman before proceeding with any plan of action. Having daughters of his own he hesitated which as a business man was most unlike him yet something in her eyes and tender smile pulled at his heart strings as he continued to look at her picture. He realized this required a delicate hand in finding out information. Smiling for the first time that day, Tobias came to a decision. He would ask his wife who was ever clever at finding out information that a man could not inquire of with out raising a sense of suspicion.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - At the Heron

"Capitaine William Brand." William said, rather formally. "C'est capitaine Lasseter."

This small introduction shifted the positions of society only ever so slightly, for neither Dorian or William were captains of any navy but their own. Still, it had the desired effect for the lieutenant was forced to begin again.

"Pardon, Capitaine. Capitaine." the young man returned, removing his hat to both. "Mes supérieurs souhaitent savoir ce qui continue ici."

"Vous pardonnez, Sah... mais mon Français est...pauvre. Peut-être nous...pouvons converser en anglais...?" William said, his most polite and apologetic smile shining. Dorian tried not to smile anymore than was necessary, for William had deliberately stalled the question a second time and only Dorian seemed to understand the obvious tack in choosing one language over another. William had enough French of his own to make conversation and translators a plenty, but he called on none of these. Lieutenant Turcotte was suddenly placed at the disadvantage, for English was not his strong suit, but the young man smiled wanly and continued.

"But oov course, Monsieur." Turcotte agreed. "Now, if you..."

"Captain." William corrected, and Dorian had to turn away ever so slightly.

The Lieutenant did not smile, nor did he correct himself this time. He simply narrowed is eyes but a little and William saw the man that would some day overtake the boy before him. "I em charged to learn what has gone on 'ere, Captaine."

"I have only just arrived myself, Lieutenant Turcotte, but Captain Lasseter informs me that this man here fired upon his crew without provocation...and being fired upon they were obliged to answer with force. We have searched him and found little coin and no papers. He is, as you see, quite dead from several shots fired from the Heron here and the Watch Dog over there...the Watch Dog being allied to this ship. Captain Lasseter and I have questioned all aboard the Heron and can find no one who can say who this man is or from where he hails."

This statement was not entirely true, for William had not yet questioned Miss Ashcombe, a task he meant to perform at the earliest convenience, but as it might prove awkward at present, he let it slip and made no mention of it to Turcotte. He wasn't of the mind that Jenny was involved in the matter, in fact the idea was far from him, but he was not about to let the French question anyone in his charge before he himself had done so.

Lieutenant Turcotte stood a moment looking between the two captains. He did not seem to know where to go with this, so he invited one of his own to search the body as well. William made a point then of passing what few personal effects had been discovered on the man to Turcotte. He also gave him the coin. Lieutenant Turcotte held out his hand for the musket as well, and as Dorian had already had the presence of mind to make a rubbing of the maker's mark during the previous questioning, he made no effort to retain the unremarkable firearm. He simply passed it over to Turcotte without a word.

Turcotte examined the effects while his man searched the body with an attention to details. The man was thorough. He found not one additional clue to the shooter's identity, but two, though the clues were not of great worth. The first was a name stitched inside the man's coat, which would later prove to be little more than a tailor's mark. A poor tailor's pride in an unremarkable garment. The second clue was only slightly more revealing. The inside lid of the cartridge box worn at the dead man's belt bore the initials 'H.P.'

"We now know as much together as any strangers might know." William said plainly.

Lieutenant Turcotte seemed unsatisfied on the matter.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian had stood and let William do the talking and watched the French marines do what was ordered. The dead man was searched again, not much more was found out. They all stood, bobbing in the small boats and looked at each other, the Heron, the dead man and nothing in particular. Lieutenant Turcotte seemed to be deciding his next action.

“Capitaine… Lasseter… who, exactly was shot at?”

Dorian looked at the Lieutenant a moment, knowing the man was trying to catch them in a possible lie or cover up.

“Leftenant, I know not who the man there was trying to shoot, however, he came close to shooting this man, who will tell you as much.”

He pointed to Luc who stood tall and saluted. He spoke in his thick Russian accent.

“Luc Otkupschikov, at your service.”

Turcotte blinked his eyes as Luc spoke and balled his hands up for a moment before placing them behind his back.

“Monsieur… Otkup, Otkupschikov…. Parlez vous Francais?”

“Nyet, ah, no ser, I speak English and Russian…”

The lieutenant looked agitated even more, but kept his civility. He took his time and again asked what was known of the attack. Luc explained what happened from his point of view, coming across from the Frigate to the Cutter and being the first to head up the side, but was cut sort by the shot. He told of the chaos in the small boat and took a cue from Captain Lasseter and left out the injury caused to the young woman. As a point of fact, he omitted her all together. The Lieutenant nodded as Luc spoke, occasionally with a pinched look on his face as his accent distorted some of his English. When Luc finished with the retrieval of the body the officer bowed his head to the big Russian.

“Merci monsieur… Capitaine Lasseter? This is your ship?”

“Aye leftenant, it is…”

“I wish to board your ship, see for myself.”

Dorian looked at William, who in turn looked at the lieutenant and back to Dorian.

“Leftenant Turcotte… Yer commander sent ya out ta find out what’s happened here… you have. As fer boardin’ m’ship… Have you a writ affordin’ you th’ privilege?”

The French officer narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“Then I must decline your request… If you wish to get said papers, I would be delighted ta show you about my fine vessel.”

Dorian smiled and bowed to the man, who, even though he had been outdone, bowed back.

“Very well monsieurs, ah, capitains… I will report my findings to my superiors, along with this man.”

He pointed to the corpse and his men unlashed the boat from those of the Heron and Watch Dog, attaching it to their own. Neither Captains protested as this was done, and soon they were watching as the marines towed the small boat turned funeral barge to the wharf under the shadow of Fort Royal

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704

To say that Leftenant Raul Turcotte was not pleased would have understated his rage to a fault. He was feeling as murderous now as the dead man in tow might have felt just an hour previous. He could not stomach correction from anyone, but to be so treated by privateers was unforgivable. He fumed and it took him the better part of the distance from the Heron to shore to calm himself. He did this by counting backwards in three languages.

Quirion Charron rowed silently all the way to shore. He could see that any interruption in the Lieutenant's 'counting' might be too much for the young hothead, so he kept his peace. He admired the young officer, despite his inexperience, for the lad was often taking on the worst of duties for the sake of advancement at all costs. Quirion did not respect him for this alone, but this willingness to do all had placed the Lieutenant in several situations beyond his years and he had risen to almost every task, this most recent notwithstanding.

The boat made landfall and Turcotte exited so fast that Quirion had to call him back. "Pardonnez-moi, lieutenant!"

Turcotte turned about impatiently. "Bring the body and yourselves" he spat in French. The counting had not worked well.

"But, Lieutenant...there was blood in the boat."

"Don't be absurd!" Turcotte hissed. "There would of course be blood."

"This blood was in their boat, Lieutenant."

Turcotte sobered and a smile slowly returned to his face. It seemed that he wasn't the only man looking for advancement. "Merci, Charron. You are a thorough man."

Before four bells of the Afternoon Watch

~Starboard Watch on Duty~

[Red Cat Jenny]

The Ward Room of The Heron

Callie Moore dabbed water on the womans face, then above the hairline of her right temple where she had been struck. Unmatting thick brown hair to expose the injury. Her hands shook slightly as she worked deliberately and with care to cleanse away what had seemed so much blood to come from not so large a wound. Wringing the cloth into one basin and soaking it again from a clean one. Slowly exposed, the bruise and location were enough clue to the state of conciousnes before her. As she worked, Miss Moore began to hum softly. Partly to calm her nerves as she hoped the still yet breathing figure would wake. Partly because she hoped the humming may reach the woman and gently stir her from whatever world she occupied, back to the present one in the Heron's ward.

The first sensation Jenny became aware of was warmth. She had felt numb and cold. Warmth began to spread along her limbs and traveled up her body it seemed. It was a pleasant sensation which was soon met with throbbing pain as it reached the crown of her head. Her face and hair felt wet. Her shoulder ached. Jenny didn't open her eyes this time for fear of the dizzying, blinding sensations barely a memory now. She simply breathed. Every breath renewed the insistent throbbing. The afternoon sun shafted in through the Aft windows and across her face. Still half in a dream state Miss Ashcombe stirred. "I've been in a wreck" she thought. Jenny picture'd herself laying on a distant shore, hair wet and her body broken from some horrific accident she couldn't remember. Something must have gone horribly wrong. Then she remembered the face...the red scarf..Jenny opened her eyes wide "Henri!" she screamed the pain ripping into her head as loudly as the sound of her voice and someone else's beat against her ears. Callie Moore had screamed in unison as the still body sat up suddenly and grabbed at her wrists in an attempt to push her away. The bowl of clean water clattered to the floor causing one of the ships Cats to hiss and retreat amidst the chaos. Callie held her ground to assure the woman did no futher injuries to herself and tried to calm her. "It's alright Miss, you're among friends. Ya've been injured. Please..lay back down" As she spoke the woman before her slowed her struggling. Tiring quickly against the younger girl and the throbbing ache at her temple. Jenny did not lay back, but the struggle and another voice clear this time, brought her fully back to the present. She looked at the unfamiliar face of a young woman whose expression was half fear and half determination. She released the girls wrists and looked apologetically wincing from various aches, but did not speak. Miss Moore reached down never taking her eyes from the woman and retrieved the basin, dropping another rag in the spilled water. "Wait here miss, you've been hurt. Just stay here and I will return shortly. "Callie was afraid telling her she was going to fetch the Captain might send the woman into another fit and held up the basin in her hand. "I'm just goin ta get some more water for your wound. Try not ta move miss" Jenny nodded slowly closing her eyes against the pain it caused. Miss Moore retreated calmly giving the woman a smile. Only rushing once the door was closed behind her.

Jenny brought a hand to her head, gingerly tracing through wet hair near a painful cut and some swelling. She winced, afraid of how badly it hurt, but relieved to find an injury smaller than the pain interrupting her thoughts. With deliberate slowness this time Jenny glanced around, noticing a room not unlike the office where she had been interviewed by Captain Brand. But it was not the same ward of the Watch Dog. It was smaller and contained some different furnishings. Upon the nearby table were scattered papers and there was a similar small cabinet with glass doors containing dark bottles and glasses. Sun streaked through the aft windows showing the floor worn smooth and ornate woodwork on one wall. On the other hung a Blue wesket and a coat of lighter hue trimmed in gold. An empty scabbard lay dropped nearby and Jenny shivered realising what would have caused it's owner to take up weapons and rush out as the scattered papers made obvious. She began to collect her thoughts, trying to think through what was now a dull throbbing. Henri Patios....

[Dorian Lasseter]

Over the side of the Heron

Captains Brand and Lasseter, along with their men, had watched the soldiers row away in silence. Dorian clicked his tongue.

“Ya think that’s th’ last we’ll be seein’ o’ him?”

William cocked his head and creased his brow.

“I think not. I think he’ll be back with either papers, or his superior in person.”

All Dorian could do was nod and chuckle. He was about to make another comment when a scream was heard from within the Heron. As a point of fact, It was two feminine screams, not overly loud, but loud enough that everyone in the proximity heard.

“Either Miss Ashcombe has come to, or we have deeper problems.”

Dorian turned and headed to the ladderway and pulled himself aboard his ship, not wondering if William or any others were in tow. As he crossed the deck aft, Miss Moore came out the door, the Pooka scattering out with her. As Dorian approached, she closed the gap even quicker.

“Captain, she’s awake… Frightened and delirious I think. I told her I was getting more water for her wounds, but – “

Dorian cut her off,

“Then do so Miss Moore, and quickly… Mister Tucker! You have th’ deck!”

Letting the young woman pass, he quickened his pace aft and into the Wardroom. He entered and saw Miss Ashcombe sitting upright on the cot. She was looking better, and looked at him there at the door. Standing a moment longer, Dorian was deciding what to do. He crossed the room slowly, placed his pistol on the table and was about to address her when Miss Moore returned. Nodding to her, she went over and continued administering to Miss Ashcombe. The Captain watched from where he stood a moment longer, then pulled his chair out and sat. It was then that he noticed William had indeed followed him onto the Heron, as he stood in the doorway to the Ward Room. Dorian waved him in and William came over to where sat. The Irishman rose and turned away from where the women were, and quietly addressed his superior.

“I have yet ta ascertain how she is, besides awake. Soon as Miss Moore finishes, I hope Miss Ashcombe can answer some questions. This might help…”

Dorian stepped a pace over and opened the cabinet, withdrew a bottle and glass.

[Pew]

Luc remained aboard the small craft until the Marines were out of sight. He and the other crew lashed the boat to the side of the Heron, then climbed up and into the waist. He watched as Christopher Tucker took over the deck and the Captains went in search of the scream.

Luc made his way to the ward room. He made it a point to be loud enough where the Captains wouldn't think he was eavesdropping.

He peered in to find the two men contemplating the next step.

Luc knocked on the door sending it further open with a creak. "Begging zee pahdon, sahz. Zhall I take zee woman beck to zee Wootch Dog?"

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704

"No." William said flatly. He turned to look at Luc and his demeanor was not friendly, though his present mood had little to do with Luc at all. He was simply in a bad mood and wearing the face of the passive, stony and removed captain that he often reserved for times when his mood was foul, but controlled. He stood apart from the others with his hat off at his side. Quiet. Distant. Being Russian, Luc was not unfamiliar with such stoniness, so he kept his peace and remained...available.

William turned his attention back to Miss Ashcombe, but his expression never changed. He watched as Dorian poured a dram of something dark. He watched as Dorian fetched it to the wounded woman. He watched as she attempted the strong drink, but his mind was everywhere but here.

It was with the new recruits who had been introduced with haste, rather than care. It was with Turcotte as he climbed the hill to Fort Royal. His thoughts were on the merchants who would be aboard the Watch Dog within hours. His mind dwelt on assassins past and present. They were by themselves all minor things, but they added up into one foul mood just the same. He couldn't help it.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Silkie McDonough]

Ashore at the Surgeon O'Treasaigh’s

Murin knew others like BriarRose Kildaire, she grew up with one. Her mother Sábháil (Saval) McDonough a midwife; could see no reason to suffer pain if there was a way to ease said pain. Miss McDonough stopped at the top of the stairs unsure of where to turn. She softly called “Mister Pew?”

“In here.” Miss McDonough turned towards the voice to a closed door, and then knocked. “Enter.” Mister Pew smiled as the ships tailor entered the room. “I think the alchemist believes you to be my sweetheart.” Murin blushed and said with a hint of alarm in her voice. “I did na’say such a ting.”

“I am sure you would not. Sit” He signaled towards a chair that sat nearby. “You are a site for sore eyes Miss McDonough, these walls and the insides of my eyelids are all I have seen for many a day.”

“I’would expect a man such as yerself t’ave attempted escape.” Murin flashed a teasing glance and a smile at the sailor. “Aye, I tried …a mistake on my part.” A sheepish and wry grin flashed across his face. Miss McDonough chuckled. The conversation lagged. Murin, feeling a bit uncomfortable, continued after a moment. “Mister Pew, I wanted to give you a report on the progress of the Marine uniforms.”

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of The Heron

No sooner had Miss Ashcombe passed her attackers name silently from her lips than she drew her breath in sharply as Captain Lasseter entered pistol in hand. His face was not friendly, nor was it angered. Had she known him better she would have recognized it as fraught with frustration at the unexplained events of the past hour around and aboard his ship. That he was not a man who as Captain enjoyed being anything other than in control of a situation. She drew back slightly as he came in unanounced and with some haste. He stood regarding her a moment, then seeing the obvious fright in her eyes placed the firearm on the table and moved towards her. The young gerl had done as promised and returned at that moment with fresh water to replace the spilled basin and the Captain of the Watch Dog as well. Miss Moore interrupted her view of the men as they sat and she strained to hear but could not make out the conversation held with deliberate quietness. She winced as the wound was touched anew, but tried mightily to utter no cry. Jenny was now trapped in the presence of two powerful men whose lives and commerce she had interrupted, though they might not know to what extent. This was obvious in the expression Captain Brand wore when he entered. She knew that expression all too well. It was one of the practiced reserve of office, yet the tension in his jaw belied what was held in check. Jenny knew from experience that weakness or a display of anything other than some fortitude would not advance her situation. In Martin Garaud's case, it only served to infuriate him. She grasped the edge of the cot and held her breath as Miss Moore completed tending to the wound and wrapped a bandage around her forehead securing the throbbing at the side of her temple. Miss Moore seemed nervous in the closeness of the room filled with both Captains, now joined by another man. She recognized him as the one in whose charge she had been placed by Miss McDonough. These next few moments would not be easy and likely less comfortable than the pain which was subsiding to a dull, but persistent ache. The gerl moved away gesturing in salute as she exited the Ward Room to her freedom leaving Jenny alone with these men. Her heart pounded and she couldn't bring her eyes up from cot at once, she heard the sound of pouring and was confused at why that, rather than the angry voice of question should take place. As Jenny looked up, Captain Lasseter had come to her side and held a glass out to her. She brought her chin up to look at the glass in his weathered hand and then further to look at him. His expression remained serious but had softened a little. Taking some small comfort in that, she accepted the glass slowly and drank. The liquor not similar to the night preceding, was coarser yet it warmed her throat making speech feel possible. "Thank You" . "Aye " he replied softly. She drank again hoping for some reserve from the whisky and some compassion, however small from her audience. The Captian moved away a pace and settled with his hip to the table. Jenny now brought her free hand to her hair feeling ashamed at having nothing covering it save for the bandage of linen. Imagining what a sight she might be. She looked up at the two men and waited. Knowing full well it was wiser to say nothing until they spoke.

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Heron

Luc Otkupschikov, finding himself not needed as the minutes past was obliged to leave, but William called him back just outside the Ward Room. "Mister Otkupschikov, a word if you please."

William stood at the door for a moment, and in that moment he said nothing at all, as if distracted by too many matters at once. Then he looked up and said, "My many thanks for your forthrightness in all the matters put to you during questioning."

"Of course, sah." Luc returned soberly.

"And my added gratitude for your propriety as touching Miss Ashcombe." William added.

"It seemed...proper, Sah."

"I would , however, like to know why it that Miss Ashcombe finds herself aboard the Heron." William's tone was neutral, but Luc had known his share of men and there was no mistaking William's mood at present. Still, Luc felt that he had no need to worry on the matter.

"Her request, Sah."

"Thank you, Mister Otkupschikov. Please wait for me amidships."

"Da...Aye, Sah." Luc knuckled off a salute then added. "Sah...there is another matter." William raised a solitary eyebrow and Luc decided to keep the news of brawling recruits for another time. "Nothing, sah. It will...keep."

William only nodded and entered the room once more.

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

Captain Lasseter nodded to Miss Ashcombe as he took back the glass.

“Yer welcome, hope it calms you some…”

As William took a moment to speak with Luc, Dorian poured another dram of whiskey, slowly drank it and set both vessels on the table. He regarded the young woman sitting there, watched as she touched the bandage about her head and softened his expression, hoping to ease the discomfort she must be feeling. But questions needed to be answered.

“Miss Ashcombe… I wish there was more time ta let yer injury calm itself, however, we have questions of you… Firstly, why did ye come over ta th’ Heron? Fer what purpose? “

He almost felt bad asking such direct questions, given her state. He needed to know as much as possible, as quickly as possible, not knowing if they would have another visit by the lieutenant or another officer of the garrison. She looked to be collecting her thoughts and as she did his mind wandered to other things needing to be addressed such as the new recruits in his charge. All Dorian wanted this day was to welcome aboard the new men and go ashore to see how Preston was mending. He feared it would not come to pass until the next day.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny was granted a brief reprieve as Captain Brand spoke with the man called Luc, who then took his leave. She moved slowly on the cot. Still sitting, testing her limbs and back which renewed the pain and she again brought a hand to her head. Captain Lasseter took the glass from her and as he placed it down with his own, turned back to question her arrival. There was an almost apologetic look in his eyes, though his face was serious. Jenny assumed remembering the first time she had seen him near the wharf with his own injury, that he understood some of her discomfort. However, he had to question her and she could hear the urgency he attempted to restrain. "Miss McDonough asked that I be transferred here" she looked up squinting at the taller of the two men. Though both were engaged now in her answer. "Away from the merchants coming to your other ship, among whom might be my uncle" She stopped short of a name. Hoping to direct the attention back to Miss McDonough. For which she felt bad, but the lass was better equipped to answer men she knew so well.

[William Brand]

William's face altered only slightly, turning from one of checked anger to irritated surprise. "The auction of the Maastricht goods is to take place amidships and no merchant coming aboard the 'Dog will be given the freedom to explore the 'Dog unchecked. My marines are most studious in their office and they guard the frigate jealously, a point recently affirmed in their wanton attack on your attacker."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe faced Captain Brand now. "Sir, I do not know many of the protocols of a ship. Murin...Miss McDonough was escorting me and we overheard that guests were to come aboard. I was frightened because of who they might be. I meant no disrespect....." she paused in her speech a moment "Sir...attacked? Jenny closed her eyes a moment against the sting of the injury which chose to pull at her at that moment "I only remember a shot and shouting" she paused again opening her eyes and looked directly at him for it was not entirely untrue "nothing more"

[William Brand]

August 2, 1704 - Aboard the Heron

"They've taken him away..." William began. "...this assassin. This solitary fool. They've taken him ashore. A French Lieutenant, name of Turcotte was here. He has gone with the body and the boat which bore it, and I fear he will return with papers granting him permission to search the Heron. You can't have thought that I was so remiss in leaving you aboard the Watch Dog if any true danger existed? Merchants tha..." William waved a dismissive hand at this unfinished thought, squinting into the bright sun coming through the stern windows. "He'll come again, this Turcotte. Of that I am certain...and where shall we send you next, what with so many neighboring and distant eyes upon us?"

William allowed a pause for her to answer, but then took it back all at once. "Captain, I leave you to your patient. I must go and secure some safeguards for her protection." He left the room and his departure was abrupt.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny succeded partly due to the bandage and discomfort to quash her eyes from widening. "Body" she thought..if it were Patiot then the information he could have given would have died with him. Jenny remembered the Frenchman and her uncle's loud argument with him one night. She had come down the hall but hesitated outside his door. Henri was as Mr. Saint James had pronounced him, with no small amount of disdain "not right in his head" He was clever as those people often are, quite capable of single tasks. But his downfall was impulsive action as if he had let go of all reason. Usually defended by near explosive anger towards anyone who questioned him. Garaud had moved him from the main business of the plantation after a particularly embarassing and costly episode, instead finding use for his uniquely unstable personality in his darker trade of human cargo. He found these purveyors most unsavory and left the least of them to Henri Patois. Jenny knew it was as likely that he was the dead man, as it was that he acted alone. Relief. She opened her mouth to answer, but Captain Brand cut her short. Again relieved Jenny sat still as he spoke and then departed himself leaving her to Captain Lasseter's questions. She turned her face and looked out the stern windows closing her eyes a moment and reopening them. Allowing them to adjust to the brighter light. Her vision had cleared.

[Pew]

Ashore at the Surgeon O'Treasaigh’s

  “Mister Pew, I wanted to give you a report on the progress of the Marine uniforms.”

"Aye lass, ya nearly done or wot?" I asked with my voice fairly raspy. I leaned and grabbed a small cup of water Briar had left on the night stand. "How goes it?"