The Watch Dog

[Pew]

BriarRose completed her gentle care of the ships carpenter as I rolled my eyes. She took her leave as Alder and I finished a bottle left from the Captains departure. We continued small talk into the evening, eventually coming around to how we each arrived at the deck of the Watch Dog. The wick drained matching the depth of the bottle and we both decided slumber would be the best at this time of the evening. I gave my thanks to Alder for checking in on me, he nodded and I offered my hand. With a slight latch of the door, I pinched the remaining flame left and lay upon the bed. The morning was to hold a grand review of the Heron and I wished to be there as Alder's work was uncovered.

[Jack Roberts]

Bedding down for the evening. I pondered my surroundings. Laying in me hammock staring at the grain of the wood. The lanterns being doused one by one. Casting various shadows as each one went. I hoped to start a new adventure, "I was sure to die in that prison." I thought as I drifted into slumber. "What a happen chance of good fortune has come my way." Listening to the creek of the timbers, sleep overcame me like a fast rolling mist.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe woke in the darkness. Having rested twice earlier, sleep visited but did not stay. She lay in the darkness listening to muted sounds from above and the occasional hollow sound of water lapping at the Heron's hull. Jenny understood how one could become acustomed to the lulling sound and motion, almost being rocked like a babe. She thought about the children and prayed a silent prayer that they would someday understand and that fortune would allow her to see them again. Her thoughts then drifted to Martin Garaud. She wondered if he would continue to look for her..for his money. The purse that lay in her parcel began to feel like a weight. It could have easily dragged her down. Yet at the same instance it was like a piece of flotsam grabbed at the moment of drowning which would rescue her from a most certain fate. Jenny closed her eyes tight and tried to clear her mind of so many questions. If she allowed herself to become gripped with fear it would surely become obvious in the mornings light. She would try to do as little as possible to cast any further question upon herself. She turned in the cot and drew the woolen blanket about her, tucking in the edges. As the sounds from outside quieted, Jenny heard the Captain's slow and steady breathing from across the ward room. She wondered again about what unexplained event would take place in the morning. Grateful to be safe amongst others, Miss Ashcombe soon found sleep.

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose left Preston's room after attending Mr. Wenge's hands. She went over to her apothecary box and cleaned up her work area. Afterwards she went and sat by the fire while she waited for the last guest to leave. Mandrake stretched and yawned blinking his green-gold eyes up at her. Taking a few steps he jumped up in to her lap. Smiling at the kitten, BriarRose began stroking his fur to be rewarded with a loud rumbling pur. "Ah, my wee friend what should I do?" Mandrake blinked his eyes at her. "Aye, I do not feel comfortable about the passage Maeve found for me. I do hope Captain Lasseter will soon answer my letter." Staring in to the fire, BriarRose could once again sense the uneasy feeling overcoming her about the Esperanza.

[Black Syren]

The moon that trickled through the curtains illuminated the room to silver and shadow, she shifted to get comfortable and turned enough to watch Bill as he slept. Rising so as to not wake him she moved to the window to peer out at the night and struggled to fight the night terrors that made sleep an elusive beast. She rubbed a hand over her face and with the other hand toyed with a strand of loose hair.

The room was cool causing her skin to chill and prickle, the streets were quiet down below, quaint and charming. She let the peace of it wash over her and turned back to the bed, but was too restless to sleep.. Dresses quietly and takes her things and casts another look to Bill and soundlessly leaves. It would be best this way..no awkward moments or feelings to be in the way.

[Abbington M. Normal]

Nothing made sense any more. Why I had been treated this way I could not understand. All I know is that I was being carried somewhere down some street in the dark.

"This'll stir tings up a bit!" Quietly said one of the men that held me up by my hands.

"Aye dat it will!" The other replied that held my legs.

I was to injured to fight back, and both men over powered me.

"All 'rit on deh count of 'tre." And they beggan to swing me back and forth. As three was counted they threw me against a door, hard. It knocked the breathe out of me, and I gasped for air the best I could.

"OI doctor you got a patient!!" And they ran off into the night, snickering and leaving me at someone's door step.

[William Brand]

At Le Chateau Anse...

That night at Le Chateau Anse was not unlike any other night. It was certainly no more or less quiet for the disturbance at Miss McDonough's table, though the proprietor watched the interchange between Monsieur Taggart and Luigi with rising trepidation. Monsieur Taggart was a powerful man and a regular patron of the inn. Monsieur Taggart himself had saved the inn from financial ruin not once, but twice in it's history, and while the innkeeper hated the association with such an often unpleasant man, he was obliged to treat him as well as any other guest, and sometimes better.

Pepin Rossignol Ferland had always been an innkeeper. He had owned two establishments in Paris, though neither of them had been more than fours walls and a roof. In his estimation they had been poor houses with a keg or two of bad beer and mattresses as old as Methuselah. He had left them and Paris for Martinique and had traveled to the Caribbean with the express purpose of building the consummate inn. A place of sound security and comfort where any weary guest could sit, drink, eat or sleep without want or need, provided that they could pay for each perquisite offered by the inn. His dream had become a reality in the acquisition of a large, stately home on the main avenue of the St. Louis. Here he had built Le Chateau Anse, the inn of inns. It had been a grand enterprise then and the inn had enjoyed its first great prosperity when it opened. It was visited by the wealthy, who often escaped with their mistresses to the upper rooms of the inn where they enjoyed privacy and the innkeeper's discretion. It was also visited by the lowly, who spent too much at once and left as poor as they would ever be in life. The high and the low had ever congregated in the common rooms, where common and not so common mingled in song and drink without a care for status. It had always been so and Monsieur Ferland could not have been happier. Until now.

"Fichus imbéciles, tous", he muttered, as Monsieur Taggart signaled to a pair of brutish looking fellows near the long counter which served as bar and clerk's desk for the inn. They came over wearing the smiles of men who find sport in hurting weaker people. They smiled all the more upon seeing Luigi, who was a full foot beneath either man. They imagined together with their combined, but small intellect, how easily they would hurt this short, unremarkable looking man. Their quick estimation of Luigi was as removed from the truth as Columbus had been from China.

One moment both men were standing. The next moment, both men were in a state of rest that Pepin Rossignol Ferland had never imagined for his guests, though fights of this kind were often the rule more then the exception. Luigi put one man under a table with two swift kicks and one well placed left hook. The other man was undone with a solitary jab at a solitary, but gender specific target that was even smaller than the man's intellect. This might have ended the fight if not for Monsieur Taggart's stubborn misunderstanding regarding his own place in the world. He stood at once and drew a small sword with that practiced agility which exists among those raised in places of station. He did this so suddenly, that even Luigi was taken unawares. Try as he may, Luigi could not move his whole frame faster than Taggart's flick of the wrist.

In a few seconds, Le Chateau Anse was reduced to the sound of so many toppling chairs as some eleven dogs of the 'Dog stood up at once, even as one of Luigi's fingers hit the floor.

Monsieur Taggart survived to the door only because Pepin Rossignol Ferland stepped between one patron and all the rest. In that moment, he was the innkeeper absolute. He stood toe to toe with some of the angriest sailors ever to cross his threshold and stood his ground as ably as an veteran soldier. One moment he was the shrinking but affable man of two score years and three chins, and the next he was the lord of his house and his word was gospel. He ushered the foolish Taggart all the way to the door without concern for his own safety, all the while plying the angry patrons with promises of drink and recompense. It was one of his resounding moments as host of Le Chateau Anse.

They reached the porch together, he and Monsieur Taggart, and the sugar baron was just foolish enough to spurn the innkeeper for saving his life. Pepin Rossignol Ferland was just honorable enough to take the blow unreturned before turning again to his own house that he might put it in order again.

Aboard the Watch Dog...

William paced the Ward Room of the Watch Dog for several minutes, not out of irritation, nor agitation, but out of habit. He mused aloud on several subjects, as was his want to do when alone, and he spoke openly to himself regarding those subjects touching the frigate and the cutter. The morning would bring the promise of several great changes. Some hoped for. Some assured. Some inevitable. Several crew members, laden with Maastricht shares and their own plans for the future, would depart the Watch Dog for new lives ashore at Martinique, leaving him with less crew members, even though he had planned for more. The imbalance of proven men over new recruits would soon come into play with all of the politics and unpleasantries associated with such changes. He would have a new carpenter, a new blacksmith, and a plethora of new able seamen. He would also see some new marines armed, the establishment of a Master-at-Arms and the requirement of a new Quartermaster.

William sat after a time. He drank enough water then to stave off the effects of all the drinking he had done that day. "Too many toasts for one evening." he said aloud, already dozing a little in the chair. He told himself three times to go to bed, but he utterly failed to follow his own orders and was asleep in the great chair some six or seven deep yawns later.

On a cart road...

Tawny limped, fell, crawled, staggered, stood and limped again in a dance of unbending determination. It was by will alone that he kept the pace he set for himself, leaving a little of himself behind with every other step. Every movement cost him a little blood and a little of the madness which had driven him his whole life. Now, wounded as he was, the brushfire was almost gone. That bright burning insanity which had fueled so many nightmarish acts of cruelty was all but spent and soon Tawny would be as silent as the brazier once burned out. He would cool, dim and go cold and no one would ever light a candle in his memory.

For the present, he limped, fell, crawled, staggered, stood and limped again.

In the Village of Crows...

There are few men in this world who can honestly say they have fought the devil and won. Monsieur Binet Gaubert lay in a pool of sweat, blood and swelling gratitude on the floor of his home and thanked God some two dozen times at least that he had ignored his sister's protests about the 'mangy dog' he had brought home three years previous. That dog...that mangy dog...now stood over him and added its share of blood to his own. Their blood mingled there in the dark, making them blood brothers ever after. They had fought the devil together and prevailed and Monsieur Binet Gaubert would say afterwards that no brother on Earth would ever have such a portion of his love as the mangy dog, Mercier.

Mercier licked his wounded master and whined, not for his own wounds, but for his love of Binet.

Eight bells of the First Watch. The Midwatch begins.

August 3, 1704

[Bloody Bill Flint]

It was one of the few times through out their years of association that Treasure Tribbiani would underestimate William Flint, but it was one of those times that would bring that smile that Bill showed only to her none the less. For a man who'd spent most of his life in forests filled with predators of both the four and two legged varieties, Miss Tribbiani was not so nearly stealthy as she supposed. Her need to go out at this late hour arroused his curiosity. He watched silently, all the while keeping up the facade that he was sleeping, as she dressed and headed for the door. As soon as it closed behind her he sprang from their bed and threw on his own clothing. And out the window he went, dropping like a panther to the thoroughfare and startling a drunk. He quickly uttered an apology and dashed to the entrance of the inn. He leaned against the door frame and affixed the afore mentioned grin to his visage and waited for her to appear. Then he thought better of accosting her and slipped back into the shadows to follow at a distance and see how things would play out so as not to interrupt some private errand of hers.

[BriarRose Kildare]

A loud thud resonated through the room shattering the peace. Mandrake jumped up growling and hissing from her lap. Standing up, BriarRose went to the front door from whence the sound originated. Opening up the door a heap fell part way in to the shop. Kneeling down, BriarRose, rolled the heap over to notice a young man sorely beaten. He tried to speak but only a hoarse sound escaped from his swollen and bloody lips. From behind her, BriarRose heard footsteps. Mr. Wenge knelt down next to her and asked, "You need help Miss?"

BriarRose turned to look at him and replied, "Aye, please help me get him inside." Taking the situation in hand, Mr. Wenge scooped up the young lad and brought him in to the Surgeon's house. BriarRose made a quick gesture toward the hearth. Mr. Wenge carefully placed the young man down. Turning towards her he asked, "Do you want me to stay with ya?"

Kneeling down next to the young man, BriarRose began to access his injuries before replying.

[Abbington M. Normal]

The next thing I saw was a woman knelt down next to me and a man standing behind her. I wanted to tell her that I needed to get back to the ship, but my right ribs barely let me breathe without excruciating pain.

"Plea-" I breathed, stopping short. Nearly passing out from the pain and lack of air.

I was stobburn and tried to ignore the pain. Forcing myself to roll on my side, only to fail at my efforts. The woman seemed to stop me from any attempts to move at all after that.

My sight started to blur and hearing became difficult.

No not yet! Not now! I thought to myself.

[Black Syren]

Unaware that Bill had been awake she shifted her sea bag and slipped out the back door of the tavern and drifted within the shadows that eddied like some beast of the damned as it seemed to swallow her whole.

She was cursed with restless energy, a reserve that seemed endless at times and it annoyed her to no end that she could not sleep, haunted by the shouts of her step father, the image of her sweet half brothers face, peaceful in death, and the blood, the accusations that she had caused Tony's death by her willfulness.

She gave a shudder and hurried on through the narrowed streets and evaded others that lingered in this time not yet dawn and came upon the church and finding it locked made the sign of the cross and hurried on.

She nervously chewed upon her bottom lip wondering what Bill would think when he awoke , reaching a deserted stretch of beach she slipped off her shoes and ambled through the thick sands. Finding a place to watch the ships that rocked in the embrace of the sea she let her bag thud to the sand and quickly followed suit. The winds warm and welcoming, the sand still warm, the sea glittered beneath the starlight that fell. Sighing she leaned back into the sand letting the night sweep over her, lull her into a peace her soul did not feel.

[BriarRose Kildare]

Looking up at Mr. Wenge BriarRose stated, "Nay, good sir, you do not need to stay. I know that tomorrow is supposed to be a big day for you. I will be alright. You may leave so you can get to your bed and sleep." smiling sweetly at his concern she continued, "But if you are uncomfortable with leaving you may stay for a bit."

Looking down at her with a furrowed brow, he seemed to make a decision and nodded sitting down in a chair by the fire.

BriarRose gently began to assess the young man's injuries. Standing up she went to the kitchen quickly to get a basin of water and wash rag. Coming back in to the room she noticed Mr. Wenge watching her intently. Kneeling back down she began to remove the young man's cravat and shirt. Inhaling softly at the sight of the cloth binding, she then noticed that the right side of the young patient's body was bruised. Probing the area gently her suspicions were confirmed that there were several broken ribs. Removing the shirt she continued to asses the body before her. Several bruises were on well muscled arms.

Sighing, she turned to Mr. Wenge and said, "Sir, just to forewarn you, but I think our young man is actually a young woman. Would you please hand me the blanket lying on the chair so I can remove the cloth binding from her chest?"

His face redden a bit as he stood up and got the blanket for her. He said in a warm voice, "Perhaps you will be alright then with out me?"

Smiling up at him as she took the blanket and she replied, "Aye, you may go and get your rest. Thank you for your help."

He went over to the table and pulled several coins from his pouch. Looking over at him BriarRose said, "Nay, you owe me nothing."

"Your ointment has done wonders for my hands and for that I am grateful." Placing a few coins on to the table he continued, "If you need my services, just send a lad over to the carpenter's." Their eyes met for a moment before he flushed slightly. Bowing quickly he bid her good night and quickly left. Shaking her head, BriarRose turned back to her new patient.

Standing up she went over to her apothecary box and began to rummage through it. Taking out a pair of scissors she went back over to her patient. Mandrake sat next to the hearth watching intently every move his mistress made. Her patient began to stir coming back to consciousness.

[Pew]

Aboard the Watch Dog

Eric and Luc watched as Mister Badger shook hands with the final merchant for the evening. Tudor blew gently on the page to dry the ink and then closed the ledger by lamplight. The men stood quetly and helped the men over the side of the Watch Dog into their longboats for the trip back to shore. One of the powder monkeys ferried up several tankards of strong ale brought to ship by Mister Gage.

"All in a day's work, eh boys?" said Mister Badger. He turned slightly to see Tudor in the light of the shaded lantern with arms crossed. With a sweeping gesture he removed his cap, and bent lowly before her. "Most humblest apologies, Miss Smith. I thought you had retired to the Ward Room." Eric snickered and Luc followed along. A curt glance to the two men shut them up quickly.

[Dorian Lasseter]

At the wharf

The young boy carried the letter to through the streets down to the wharf and asked of Captain Lasseter of the Ship, Heron. Several of the dock workers merely shoed the boy out of harm’s way. One fellow called the boy over and asked him what he wanted of the captain of the Heron.

“I have a letter of import to give him, and am to wait for a response.”

The man gave him a weary look.

“I believe he’s back aboard, and no likely to return this evenin’. I could run you out to the ship, but it’ll cost you.”

The boy touched the coins in his pocket and frowned. He was not about to forfeit his earnings to deliver the letter via this boatman. He backed away and found a spot against a building, trying to decide what he might do. He paced some and almost ran into a reasonably well dressed man, whom he recognized as the dock master. The boy asked him of The Captain and the Heron, to which the man told the boy that the Heron would be brought to the wharf by morning. This made the lad happy, yet also slightly agitated, as he would have to wait until then to deliver the letter and hopefully collect more money to return another letter to the woman at the surgeon’s place.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704 - The docks of St. Louis

The boy continued to pat his pocket in an absent minded fashion as he imagined the coins which might be added to it by his service. He was bothered to think how long he would have to wait there, but in truth, the boy did not have to wait very long at all. Events unfolded about him almost at once. He was not there ten minutes before his agitation was replaced with genuine concern for his own well being, for he had given little thought to the coin in his pocket, other than the way it might serve him. He had never considered what harm it might do him to have laden pockets on the docks at midnight, no matter how few coins he carried.

Then the men loomed before him.

The boy got up. The men pushed him down again. The boy prepared himself for the worst, but they were not bad men, per se. They were not possessed of any great evil. They were not even thieves, by definition. They were every day men of the poorer variety. The men who work the docks, securing only one day's work at a time, often with a new employer from one day to the next. The rats among the docks. The wheels of the working class. Hungry men who will take to eat when there is no other way.

When they departed with coin in hand, the boy remained, grateful of his life. 'Better a handful of coins gone than two pennies for the Ferryman,' he thought. Besides, he still had the letter.

[Abbington M. Normal]

I finally awoke, finding that it was slightly easier to breathe. Then I noticed why. The binding I had around my chest was gone.

I quickly sat up hoping that no one knew about my secret that I had kept hidden so well. Nearly hitting the woman next to me and scaring a black kitten who ran under a chair. The pain was excruciating, totally and utterly unbearable.

"AH!" I cried, grabbing my right side.

As soon as my side stopped hurting to bad I looked around to see my surroundings. I was in someone's house, and I finally directed my attention to the woman who seemed to be tending to my wounds. Very pretty woman, coppery red hair, pulled back in a long briad. Grey blue eyes, and a heart shaped face.

"Where....beh.....I?" I asked nervously, slowly trying to catch my breath between words. "'Oo.....beh.....ye?"

The red haired woman looked at me worried then cautiously.

"My name is BriarRose." She began calmly, rapping a blanket around my chest and under my arms. Tenderly making sure not to rub my right rib to hard. I winced, just touching it made me hurt, even though I guessed she didn't mean to hurt me.

[BriarRose Kildare]

Smiling BriarRose was satisfied with her administration of the poultice she had just finished putting on the young woman's right ribs. As she finished wrapping the young woman's side with muslin, dark brown eyes fluttered open.

The young woman tried to pull away and speak. "Where....beh.....I?" she asked gasping for air. "'Oo.....beh.....ye?"

"My name is BriarRose." She began calmly, wrapping a blanket around the young woman's chest and under her arms as she continued, "There now, calm down dear. You are safe and no harm will come to you here. You are at the Chirurgeon's house. I am the Apothecary." Noticing the young woman had winced as she wrapped the blanket around her, BriarRose loosened it a bit. "You will need to rest for a few days due to your injuries." Then gently lifting the young woman's head up BriarRose brought a goblet to her lips. "Here now, please drink this and it will ease some of your pain and discomfort."

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose watched as the young woman slowly sunk in to a deep sleep after drinking from the goblet. Standing up she went over to a wooden chest and pulled out 2 more blankets and a small pillow. Placing the pillow gently under the young woman’s head, BriarRose then put two more logs on the fire to ensure that it would continue to burn. Mandrake had cautiously come out from underneath the chair and began sniffing the young woman. BriarRose chuckled at the kitten as she made her self comfortable in a chair wrapping a blanket around her. Mandrake wandered over to his mistress and jumped up in to her lap. Curling up on her lap he began to softly purr as they both fell asleep.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill plopped to the sand beside Treasure.

"Surely I wasn't that bad." he said, giving her that special grin.

[Black Syren]

Totally enthralled in the sea and the approaching dawn she yelped and half rose only to fall back in the sands. He had startled her as she had been quite alone glaring at him for the fright she tossed a handful of sand upon him seeing his grin.

Sitting back up she shook her head at his words "Why would you ask that? I was well pleased as I know you were." She arched an eyebrow daring him to refute her claim.

'I just do not sleep well, and I feel safer at sea than ashore." she admitted slowly. She gave a shrug and fingered her bag, lashes lowered to veil her eyes and whatever could be read within them in the shadows. She tossed her loose hair over her shoulder and hefted a stick nearby and began to draw within the sands.

[Silkie McDonough]

At Le Chateau Anse...

Murin’s knee missed Taggart’s manhood by only a fraction of an inch as he turned to call his hired brawn to his side. A scream escaped Murin’s lips as fists and swords flashed around her. Before she was able to draw her own blade from its sheath beneath the folds of her petticoats the skirmish was ended.

Taggart was being escorted past many of the sailors from the Watch Dog. The tip of Luigi’s finger laid on the floor beneath the table his blood quickly coloring the clean linen handkerchief that the lass handed him. Others from the Watch Dog crew gathered round the table that had been the center of the conflict. Camaraderie between sailors was enjoyed and the tale grew even as it unfolded. “Luigi, I …yer …we needs t’stop da’bleedin’.” Murin took hold of his hand applying pressure at the base of the smallest finger on his right hand. Pepin Rossignol Ferland offered the privacy of a back room for Murin to attend the sailor’s wounds. “You bring that with you.” Luigi motioned to the finger tip lying on the floor, Mister Ferland nodded in acknowledgment as he led the two to a spacious private room. “Si vous manquez svp le McDonough.” Murin accepted the hospitality of the owner of the inn for Luigi and the remainder of the crew. The girl could not help but feel embarrassment for somehow being the cause of the loss of a crewmate’s finger tip. Outwardly she appeared composed and made Luigi’s care her priority. Inwardly she berated for her oversight and trust of strangers.

The hours passed in the back room of Le Chateau Anse. The blood that had flowed from the remainder of Luigi’s little finger soaked through several applications of linen bandages before Murin was able to stop the bleeding. The severed tip sat in a small bottle of rum on the table. The crew that joined them, boisterous at first, eventually scattered throughout the room to find comfort in chairs and corners and on the hearth. Murin sat in a chair beside a now sleeping Luigi reclining on a chaise, his hand cradled in her lap, her petticoat spotted with blood, her head nodded and her mind flitted from thought to thought. She had hopped to have several of the marines dressed in uniform for the revealing of the new figurehead on the Heron. She had wanted to see the beauty that Alder had created. She had wanted to look like a lady at the unveiling, wanted to look her best for Alder, wanted the captain’s to see her as the healthy and happy woman she had become in the few short weeks since they had brought her on board. Even these thoughts, and her grief at the dis-figuration of her crew member and her embarrassment of causing such a scene could not erase the fact that these men, these ship mates, her family… had all rallied to her defense.

Her head bobbed again, a soft smile curling the corners of her mouth.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

William woke at eight bells of the Mid Watch and was glad of it. The chair he had dozed in was not comfortable, and it took him a moment to evolve from a hunchback to an upright man as he made his way to the officer's head. The light which came in at the windows there showed little of the Cul du Sac Royal apart from the few bobbing shadows of neighboring vessels. Only a handful of lights dotted the shore like pin pricks and as William passed most of his toasts from the day before, he was glad he had taken the time to drink water by the gallon.

Up above, Jim Warren took the quarterdeck over once more, allowing Tudor Smith to go happily down to her hammock, but not before she stopped at the galley and filled a heavy tray for the Captain. She was careful to forget the tea and mindful to add those preserves which had come aboard the Watch Dog only yesterday. She had traded some textiles of the Maastricht for them, knowing Lazarus would find them a welcome surprise once he returned to the ship.

While she was at work, the fore watch of the Starboard Watches relieved the aft watch in turn. Sleepy sailors replaced sleepy sailors, some waking and some off to rest. All aboard the Watch dog there was a quiet revolution as some came up and some went below.

Back in the ward room, William was just slipping into his coat to stave off the cool of the morning, when Tudor came in and deposited the tray before him. He smiled and welcomed her as he retrieved the ship's ledgers from the stern bench. He spied the marmalade and the fresh biscuits and nodded his approval.

"You did good service yesterday, Miss Smith."

"Thank you, Sah."

"And Mister Badger also. Fine service."

"Thank you, Sah." She repeated, stifling a yawn behind one hand.

William took a seat and offered her fare, but she politely declined, sitting down beside him. He went to eat, but stopped instead to check the tallies she had made in the ledgers. He admired her penmanship and said as much, before reading the marked amounts aloud. Then he made a quick calculation, based on her shares and fetched sufficient coin to pay her what was due to her. To this sum he added her shares earned from all of the other sales and transfers of goods.

"Thank you, Sah." she said a third time, but with an added enthusiasm that she made no attempt to hide.

"Your earnings, Miss Smith. Not generosity." She smiled at this and William suddenly looked distracted. "However..." He began, patting the pockets of his coat until he discovered a small parcel hidden in one of the pockets. When he brought it out, it was little more than a single piece of paper folded gentle about two delicate baubles. He placed them before her. "That is generosity. Or rather, it is a gift. They were among the Ilex goods." William explained, then his face became somewhat apologetic. "They aren't real, but they have a quality to them I thought you might like. Better that they go to you than the poor price they might fetch, though you are welcome to sell them if you wish."

Tudor picked them up, and indeed she seemed to notice right away that they were not so valuable as they had first appeared. Still, she looked happy to have them. She yawned again even as she said, "I like them. Thank you, Captain."

"Thank you, Miss Smith. You may retire...but please ask Mister Warren to join me here."

"Aye, Sah."

First bell of the Morning Watch

~Starboard Watches on Duty~

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Bay of Fort Royal

Soon the two ships under Captain Brand would be leaving the port of Fort Royal and still several things had not been accomplished. One of which was about to be remedied this morning. The night before, Captain Lasseter had passed the word that every crewmember was to be present on the wharf, barring a small number to be left onboard the Frigate for safety. During the night, unbeknownst to the crew, he had the stern board with the Cutters’ name on it removed, along with all else that bore the name ‘Heron’, much of which was to be sold off if possible. He had spent time during the past several days commissioning replacements with a new name inscribed, these items would be put aboard in due time.

[Bloody Bill Flint]

Bill scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her.

"Of course I know that lass, I was just hoping a small jest would put a smile on your face."

He paused for a moment and when Treasure didn't reply he went on.

"C'mon Treas, what's eating ya?"

Still she said nothing.

"Listen, I don't aim to make this out to be anything you don't want it to be. I'd much rather be loving friends than friendly lovers anyways."

He put his cheek aside hers and lowered his voice to a soothing pleasant tone.

"I know some old pain is haunting you. I've known it since I asked your story. It would mean so much to me if you'd let me be that loving friend and unburden your heart to me. Please let me listen to you."

With that he fell silent. This was in her hands now.

[Black Syren]

His words twisted her heart, and as they sat there his body adding warmth to hers as it had suddenly gone cold. The sun began it’s slow climb over the sea and it reminded her of all the blood, and within the circle of that blood a young boy, someone who would never laugh, she would never see his face light up with some jest, or his eyes glint with mischief. Would never know the warm hugs and affection from a wife or his own children..and it was her fault..if she had just done as her step father had wished.

A strangled sob erupted, and she rose and began angrily pacing the beach, emotions long held at bay pierced by his kindness and in that moment she hated him, hated that he made her feel the pain, the rage, the overwhelming sense of despair at losing him.

“Why? Why do you care!” She yelled at him, eyes like stormy seas, furious as they beheld him.