The Watch Dog

[Dorian Lasseter]

As Dorian watched the exchange between William and the ill boding messenger, he looked at the papers held by William again. The weight of the wax seals bent the parchment heavily. It had been not even a day since the Lieutenant had visited last and the list of signatures was not something so easily gotten in one night. Either the young lieutenant was the son of the governor, or he had other weighty connections and called in a favour. He took a moment and looked toward the Fort and would not have been surprized to see a company of marines on there way to the wharf. None but the usual smattering were assembled, so he turned his attention back to his ship. Dorian thought on both ships, their recent cargoes, and compliment of crew. He had copied everything into the ledgers and knew them probably better than Captain Brand, if by name only. Of the cargo and other supplies, all were gotten either by fair trade or by way of their prize. Unless some of the crew dealt their own deals in the black market, as they existed in every port he knew of, all was in order. Still great care had to be taken as he had seen fair play turned foul because someone in power bent the laws with their own will. Dorian looked at the messenger again. He appeared a man of the last age, when the americas were in conquest and contention and the spanish drew the line. He wondered why this man was chosen to be the messenger. Maybe it was his command of the english language he posessed. Maybe it was his calm, yet powerful bearing. Dorian was curious to know. He stepped back and directed Mister Styles to the side.

"If it is you intention to come aboard, I grant that permission... Welcome aboard the Lucy, Monsieur...?"

Captain Lasseter half blocked the gangway in mid gesture, waiting for the man to properly introduce himself.

[William Brand]

"Durand." the man returned. He stepped forward then and held out a hand for his papers. Only when the documents were returned to him did he step aboard the Lucy. He proved to be taller than Dorian, but only by a few inches. He made a point of standing all but too close to Captain Lasseter, accentuating his size. He even leaned a little. Dorian did not step back. "Capitaine." Durand said, simply, though it came out sounding like so many things at once. It was a greeting, formality and a prompt all at the same time. Dorian made a point then of gesturing to William, for Durand had not extended his formality to Captain Brand after coming aboard. Durand took this in stride and stepped towards William, again coming too close. He had the advantage of standing half a foot over Captain Brand. William removed his hat to pay his respects, but Durand's proximity prevented him from bowing, and William fixed him with a gently reproving look. It was Durand that was obliged to step away that William might complete the gesture.

Miss McDonough, and most of the men of the Lucy who witnessed this interchange, were probably not aware of the subtle posturing which took place in those first few moments. There was a sort of give and take as the weatherdecks became a social battle field of advances and retreats. Durand seemed to tire of it almost at once.

"I will see the ledgers now."

[Dorian Lasseter]

“Monsieur Durand… Welcome aboard…”

Dorian turned to Miss McDonough and in an easy tone spoke.

“Miss McDonough, be so kind as to inform my Steward in the ward room that we have a guest aboard… “

His look told her more than he said. She bobbed and saluted him and headed aft. Dorian turned back to Monsieur Durand, whose eyes moved skyward and ran over all the rigging and across the deck, as a seasoned sailor would. This brought a touch of a smile to the Captain’s face, the man had inadvertently given something away. When he did this Dorian noticed something about the man as well… his right eye was not an eye at all, but a glass replacement.

“I would invite you into th’ ward room, however you’ll be hard pressed to stay upright, tis a low overhead. I’ll bring th’ ledger out into this fine daylight for your wont.”

Dorian inclined his head politely, waiting for Durand to respond.

[Pew]

I turned away to find Maurice Roche also watching the display. With my back to the proceedings, I whispered in his ear.

"Be so kind 's find Mister Whitting. I'd like 'im ashore by th' first set o' barrels nearest th' bow. Send Harold t' th' fishmongers cart to keep an' eye for footmen from th' fort. Another marine, quickly."

"Mister Brant, Loren"

"Aye then, tell him t' stand amidships wit' a loaded pistol tucked away neatly. Stand by for m' next."

"Aye Mister Pew"

Maurice left as if he had nothing else pressing but for a forgotten trip to the larders. I watched as the necessary men moved to their perches with weapons hid. I returned to my post slowly.

[Silkie McDonough]

Murin turned aft to the doorway below the quarterdeck walking with practiced confidence. Wrapping lightly on the door she waited for a response. There was a bit of a pause before a voice answered “Come in.” Hearing Jenny’s voice Captain Lasserter’s message became clear to her. Opening the door only wide enough to enter comfortably Miss McDonough swept in and closed the door quickly behind her. “Jenny!” Murin exclaimed. She rushed to her friend giving her the briefest of hugs then looking around the room she queried. “Capn Laster wonted mae t’inform his steward det we ave a guest aboard. Should I assume that is you lass?” Jenny would have laughed had she not been alarmed. “Who is it?” “A man by the name of Durand, do ya know im?”

[William Brand]

Try as he might, Monsieur Durand could not keep himself from fixing Dorian with a look. "Have you no chairs, Monsieur?" Then, he gestured again as if to say 'Lead on' and waited for Dorian to go before him.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Dorian bowed his head just the slightest.

“Very well… tight quarters aft, but I suspect you’ve known such…”

He turned and walked at a slow pace aft towards the door to the wardroom. He noted Mister Pew and the men standing by silently. He winked at his QuarterMaster as he passed by.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Ward Room of the Lucy

In a whoosh of green petticoats Murin entered, greeted and questioned the surprised Miss Ashcombe in one fluid movement.

"Monsieur Durand?..no, I have no knowledge of such a man" Jenny impulsively looked past Murin to assure the Ward Room door was secured. "Is he an official? was he in uniform? what do you suppose he wanted?" her voice began to rise on the last of a rushed string of questions and Jenny stopped as Murin grabbed her again about the shoulders. " Lass wot've ye t' fear? D'merchants were on the Wotch Dawg. You said ya'feel safer ere..and so ya seem t'be" Pulling her friend near by the sleeve Jenny hurriedly related all that had happened since she'd left the Watch Dog in it's long boat. The tailor's eyes widened and now she grasped Jenny's arm. "goode lawd!" Murin glanced at the Ward Room door and then back to her friend. " Now tis clear t'mae wot Capin Laster was meanin" Jenny looked Murin in the eyes hers full of question.

[Silkie McDonough]

"Capin gave mae a look that said more den is wurds when e'tol me t'inform is stewart uv d' guest. N'nil, Durand is not in uniform but is official dis man wonts t' see d' ledgers." Murin stated hastily. "Gatter yerself stewart and give mae a a name t'call ya." Miss McDonough looked around the room "Wot ya want mae t'do ...n'cover yer ead."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny's hand flew to her hair as she searched the room frantically, realizing for the first time the hat, Miss McDonough's hat, had been gone when she'd awoken in Miss Moore's care. She heaved a sigh seeing that someone had placed it on a peg on the far wall. As she secured the last stray strands neath the straw brim, Jenny spoke to the small glass hung on the bulkhead. "Name..name.." Jenny turned to Murin "Constance Poole" it was a distant relative. She'd seen the name on letters as a child. "What ledgers? those over there? Why?" she paused "Murin..quickly! Sit at the table so I may serve you as they enter." Jenny ushered Murin towards the table and reached for a glass and the pitcher standing nearby.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704 - Ward Room of the Lucy

Durand ducked as they went through the door and down into the Ward Room, as did Dorian who entered before him. Dorian went down the stairs as slowly as he could without being obvious. He found Miss McDonough just dropping into a chair and a rattled Miss Ashcombe who composed herself at once.

Jenny had served her Uncle often enough under trying circumstances. She had become used to painting on a mask. She was the fly on the wall at her Uncle's plantation. A serving relative among the servants. She was used to it. She understood the art of the invisible who live under the same roof, but in shadow. Now, she tried to paint on that mask an inch thick, and succeeded to a point. She was calm enough in motion as she set about serving Murin. She did this with the practiced grace of one who has served at table before, loosing the shake in her hand just enough to pass for a steward, though her mind raced about what she need know for such a calling.

As Dorian stepped into the room he had just enough time to give Jenny a winning smile, though he was also distracted by several passing thoughts at once. Almost on his very heels came Monsieur Durand, filling the stair and framework of the companionway before he too was standing in the room, both men looking about as their eyes adjusted to the gloomier light of the room.

Jenny almost dropped the pitcher.

There before her stood Donatien Larue Durand. There was no mistaking the man who had burst into her room at La Chateau Anse just three nights previous. Now, as then, his head all but brushed the ceiling, for he had removed his hat to escape losing it against the low beams, his head as bald as before. His one good eye was bright now as it had been in contrast to the strange polish of the other. Here before her was one of the last men on Earth she had expected to see aboard the Lucy. Here was the unabashed drunk that had crashed into her life, now come crashing again. Donatien Larue Durand...the man the clerk had referred to as a "personage of some importance".

She had just enough time to recover herself a little as William also stepped in from the light beyond.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny looked at Captain Brand's face as he stepped into view behind Msr. Durand. She searched his countenance briefly for any sign of what was to be. But he wore the practiced expression as Captain Lasseter did, of one who calmly feels nothing is amiss. She looked back in time to avoid spilling over the cup in front of Miss McDonough. There was no mistaking the man, his bulk, or the memory of his voice, sodden with the scent of a nights drinking as he nearly stumbled into her at the Inn. She wondered if he'd remember that night at all given his state. Deciding that he would not, between his drunkeness and the dimly lit hall, she turned to Captain Lasseter. Her eyes begged question, but she relied on her resources and calm measured speech came. "Captain, gentlemen.." She affected a small and respectful curtsey addressing all but looked only at the Captain and the table before them. The tailor spoke up "T'ank ya Constance." as Jenny nodded "We ken continue dis d'scussion uv d'repairs t'd'clothin at a later time Miss Poole" ..."Murin supplied as unaffectedly as she could, not meeting eyes with either of her superiors.

[Alder]

Moved Below

[Alder]

"At the Chandlery"

The crate was deftly packed under the carpenter’s watchful eye. Scaffolding was placed measure for measure to reinforce both center and extremities. A lad spun around tightly packing the fine shavings of excelsior in hollows to brace every facade. Although such delicate treatment appeared understated, the engineering at play was in fact deliberate and executed to assure successful passage.

Resting his carving weary joints for the strenuous task ahead, Alder acted as guide to the construction. He rubbed his hands tightly together and kneaded the long bones through his palm. The concoction BriarRose had so artfully prepared seeped deep under his skin and nurtured nerve and sinew. He could almost feel the restorative powers of the healing balm at work. The warmth was unmistakable, the scent distracting.

“Aye, careful there!” he barked at the young lad commissioned to make the final adjustments in the packaging of this artifact. One ill placed timber could shear the capstone of his cloaked mistress. And that she was, she had beguiled his time and emblazoned her image upon his soul. The carving steadied.

Alder then calmed and reassured the now understandably apprehensive lad to continue, but with some caution. When given the option by his trade, Alder trusted the moldable inexperience of youth to misguided habits that may accompany aged skill.

The carpenter pondered the placement of the beauty; the vision of this light bringer with enchantment to calm the gnashing seas and the charm to call a tranquil zephyr to zealous action.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Wardroom of the Lucy

Dorian nodded to Miss Ashcombe, acting as Steward. He looked at Miss McDonough as she rose from her seat and wondered at the name she used to address Jenny. With all of them in the wardroom, the air was fast becoming heavy.

“Monsieur, a glass of wine?”

Durand narrowed his eyes, but before he could speak Dorian continued.

“Brandy? Whiskey? Something afore ye settle to your task?”

Again Durand fixed the Captain with a look.

“The ledger…”

“Very well, Monsieur… For your perusal…”

Dorian motioned to the table, upon which lay the new ledger he had been working on the evening before. Durand was directed to the chair behind the table, which he sat in heavily. Opening the tome, he ignored those around him. Dorian looked at William, then Murin and Jenny. He gave them all a look that said there was nothing to worry about. Durand turned the pages slowly, then shut the ledger and a hissing sigh escaped him.

“This ledger is new… where is the old one? The one that came to port with this ship?”

Dorian put a hand to his forehead and a corner of his mouth turned up for a moment.

“My apologies… You were unexpected… it is here…”

He walked over to the cabinet and withdrew the ledger for the Heron, the outer cover tattered and worn. He turned and placed the tome on top of the new one and made a hand gesture to the effect of ‘as you wish’.

Monsieur Durand was enough of a gentleman to murmur a ‘Merci’ before he opened the ledger and began to read its contents.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704 - Ward Room of the Lucy

Monsieur Durand scanned every line of the ledger with the deft skill of one who reads between them just as well. He would sometimes stop, his lips moving quietly as he made a silent notation in his head, storing away goods and numbers against some eventual end not yet discussed. While perusing some unremarkable notations on ship's stores, he made unexpected conversation, breaking the silence with his first observation of the day, apart from the Ward Room having chairs.

"It is widely rumored on the docks that you keep some seven women aboard ship, Captain." he said to no one in particular.

"I don't keep any of them aboard, Monsieur." William returned, since he had the lion's share of women.

"Neither do I." Dorian agreed.

Duran looked up with one grey-green eye and one dark, prismatic orb and waited for them to amend their comments and he looked certain that they would. He was not disappointed, for William, preferring some conversation to so much silence, added to his answer, knowing that it would go a long way to calming the room.

"You are correct in the number, but not in the keeping. I have in my service some seven women exactly, not counting a guest recently come aboard, and as she has worked in trade for food and clothing since her arrival. It might therefore be said that eight women live and work aboard the 'Dog. I am fortunate to have so many." William said, though he did not feel equally fortunate about all eight women.

Dorian made as if to speak, but Durand was suddenly very talkative. He did not stop looking at the ledgers. His eyes never left them at all, but he began questioning William at length. "Thiz...guest. Thiz newest woman. Tell me of her, Capitaine."

William shrugged, and genuinely too, for he knew almost nothing of the pickpocket turned mess mate, apart from her masquerade, which he left from his narrative. "She's little more than an urchin, Monsieur. A ragamuffin. A creature of cobwebs and cobblestones. Our Miss McDonough, in her charity, brought the girl aboard that she might eat and make herself known to our rag bins."

"I see." Durand looked at Murin then, who smiled pleasantly enough, despite the smallest twitches at her mouth. Durand smiled back, though it was more social reflex than smile. "And what more do you know of her, Capitaine?"

"Little to nothing." William admitted. "She arrived bundled and bound as one wearing all that she possessed."

Durand nodded, one finger tracing down the page. He said nothing for a full minute and no one seemed to know where to carry the conversation next. William was sitting to Durand's left, comfortably faced towards Durand's good eye, with Murin on Durand's blindside. Dorian, sat at the head of his own table facing Durand. After that quiet minute had passed, Durand began to speak about rumors and the hearsay about Martinique.

"There have been strange goings on of late." he began, and William noted how well he used his understanding of English to frame sentences and phrases particular to the language. "Take for instance the murder of Monsieur Basile Duflot de Mofras, a man of some importance here at Martinique."

Jenny was not enjoying this conversation. The mention of her recently murdered neighbor, a man not much older than herself, only added to her unease. She wanted to walk out of the room, but could think of no immediate reason to carry her from the place.

"And how did this poor fellow come to be murdered?" William prompted, noting Jenny's maintained agitation.

"He was killed by one of his slaves." Durand explained, his tone flat.

William nodded. "A theme not uncommon to the trade."

"Oui...but this man was uncommonly kind to his slaves." Durand returned, then repeated, "Uncommonly kind." No one responded to this, so Durand continued. "The slave was hanged of course."

"Of course." William replied, though his tone was not so casual. His eyes had narrowed as he said it. Durand did not look up to see this.

"I have my suspicions that it was the girl that performed the act." Durand said aloud, almost as an afterthought, before falling silent again.

"The girl...Monsieur?" It was Dorian's turn to prompt Durand, who had begun another quiet calculation in his head.

"Oui." he said after a time. "This girl. This slave girl...sister to him that was hanged...she has been missing ever since the night of the murder, gone to places unknown. The hanged man remained...asleep in his bed I am told."

"Perhaps to assuage the appearance of guilt." William offered.

"He waz found with the weapon, Capitaine."

"Then, he might have done so t' save th' sister." Dorian said, then he sent Jenny out to fetch some tea aft from the galley. She went out gratefully, though not outwardly so.

"Perhaps, Capitaine. Perhaps." Durand agreed, though his 'perhaps' sounded doubtful. Then the conversation about William's guest came full circle. This eighth woman, Capitaine..."

"Monsieur?"

"This errchin. She would not be a slave girl, would she Capitaine?"

"I keep no slaves aboard the 'Dog, Monsieur, and besides, she is too pale a girl to be the one in question."

"I would see this for myself, of course."

"But of course, Monsieur." William agreed.

[Pew]

Several minutes had passed. Not a word, nor sound could be heard coming from the ward room of the Lucy. I made my way to the bow slowly. Each marine ashore made eye contact with me, and each shaking their head "no" slowly. I narrowed my gaze slowly and rubbed the goatee on my chin. Something was amiss, yet nothing to determine such. 'Patience, Mister Pew, patience" I reminded myself. Huffing, loud enough for those nearby to hear me, I walked the length of the deck again.

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose stood on the door step for a moment before taking a deep breath and moving forward towards the docks. Making sure to cover her head and keep her face hidden she moved slowly yet deliberately. She was still stunned by the misinterpretation of her letter. How could a simple question become all askew she wondered? Feeling very foolish she comptemplated what she would say to both Captains. She did not even know where to begin especially when she did not like to discuss her unusual feelings.

There was a profusion of smells that assailed her nose. The smell of fresh baked meat pies and pastries mingled with the stench of rotted hay and refuse. She continued walking side stepping a hole filled with slop. Wrinkling her nose she continued on her journey towards the docks.

A dog barked excitedly, as a shop keeper boxed the ears of his apprentice. Street vendors hawked their wares yelling out the price of their goods. A young girl in soiled rags carried a basket filled with a colorful array of flowers. Her small grimy face caught at BriarRose�s heart making her stop.

"J'aurai le manque pourpre de fleurs si vous svp?" The young girl looked up at the cloaked woman before her. Her gray eyes peering up through the grime on her face as she replied softly, "oui, ma dame." BriarRose handed the young girl more coin than the flowers were worth. Continuing on her way once more, she took time to smell the sweet aroma of the flowers as she walked. The young flower girl looked after the mysterious woman thinking that she had just seen an angel in disguise. Making the sign of the cross she softly whispered to her self, "un ange."

BriarRose could hear the sound of men yelling as she came closer to the docks.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Wardroom of the Lucy

Monsieur Durand continued to trace finger and eyes across each page of the ledger. Turning a page he stopped and made a noise of disgust. Almost half of the following page was covered in ink, long since dried.

“Capitaine Lasseter… what do you make of thiz?”

Dorian leaned in and looked at what was in question. He even went as far as taking up the ledger and tilting it near the lamp light to see if he could make out any of the writing that might have been covered over. With a shrug he laid the tome back in front of Durand.

“I cannot make out any writing… Looks ta be some carelessness by a previous cap’n. As you see, th’ previous page reflects some five months previous, before the ship came into my possession…”

Durand gave a piercing look at Captain Lasseter for an overly long time, he silently turned back to the task at hand as if nothing had happened, yet his mouth ticked in agitation twice. Dorian had sent his ‘Steward’ forward to the galley for tea, yet he wished for a stronger drink as this document interrogation was beginning to wear on him. He maintained an attitude of disinterest, which only furthered his wont for more spirits. He let his mind wander a moment to those crew ashore imbibing at this early hour, wondering if he would have to employ more barrowmen to haul them out of the taverns and pour them onto the ship. He also wondered when other purchases for the Lucy would make their way to her decks. A new bell, sternboard, and furniture to replace the mismatched and worn set here in the Wardroom. His attention was brought back to the present when Durand cleared his throat, yet said nothing for the clearing.

[Abbington M. Normal]

At the Chirurgeons House

I saw the woman Maeve (I now learned was her name) give BriarRose a cloak and then told her to go. I wondered what was going on, nothing good I supposed. Putting on my shoes and forcing myself onto my feet, using an arm from a chair for support.

"I must beh go'in. I 'ave to find work some'ere on a shep or sum'tin."

I reach into my pockets to see if I had any coins to pay for the treatment, but found out I had none.

"Damn mongrels robbed meh." I muttered under my breath.

I began to sway and quickly grabbed the arm of the chair. How I wished I had my pistol that night, at least I could have shot one of those men that had beat me.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Jenny closed the door quietly behind her. There she paused a moment closing her eyes and letting a breath out through pursed lips. It had been a brush too close, much too close. The feeling of relief lasted only that brief moment, when she opened them again and now outside became a stranger amongst strange men. Her first instinct was to hide..just hide from them all. But Jenny knew this would only bring suspicion on herself or those who had given her refuge. Monseur Durand would likely search the ship either immediately, or would return shortly with the proper documents allowing him to do so. It was then that she noticed shoes..not her own, but as she looked up their owner seemed almost as surprised. He was tall with short reddish blond hair and a long goatee. He said nothing at first, but fixed her with a stare. Jenny thought quickly, afraid he may shout. "Sir..I am aboard with permission.." He cut her short.

[Pew]

"Whose permission? Why 're y' aboard? I didn't see y' come aboard wit' th' Frenchie." I raised my voice a bit as I crossed my arms and leaned into the girl closer. Mister Tucker heard the exchange and came quickly to my side and whispers in my ear.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Mister Tucker whispered into the new Quartermaster’s ear that the woman dressed in sailors kit came aboard while he was in the care of the surgeon. She had made arrangements with Captain Brand on the Frigate, but came to the Lucy when the cargo was being auctioned. Mister Pew gave a curt nod then.

“Aye, well…. *cough* carry on…”

She stood a moment and looked relieved, but she needed to ask a question, but was almost afraid to ask now. Mister Tucker was about to see what she needed, but again, Pew was quicker.

“Somat yer need gerl? Ye look perplexed…”

Jenny opened her mouth and not but a squeak came out. She composed herself and took a breath.

“The galley, I was sent out for tea, but I don’t know where the galley is.”

Before the QuarterMaster could make a sharp reply, Mister Tucker interjected.

“This way Miss, follow me, tis for’ard an’ b’low.”

He stepped around Mister Pew and showed the woman forward to the companionway and below. He returned to the deck immediately and walked back to the QuarterMaster’s side. He looked around and noticed some of the crew returning from shore. He nodded his head towards the men about to cross the gangway.

“Think we’ll get n’ honest days work from ‘em?”

[Pew]

"Never," I replied with a wink. "Never."

[Red Cat Jenny]

Aboard the Lucy

Glad to have been removed from Mr. Pew's inquiries, Jenny meekly followed Mr. Tucker as he led her forward and below decks in long strides. Which he adjusted as she fell behind. She made note of the way, glad now as he had left her there.. Miss Ashcombe stood alone in the Lucy's small galley. It had a modest brick hearth, a few shelves with various wooden dishes and a small cupboard in which she found a tin of tea and a cone of sugar amongst clay and glass jars which were curious.. But she let alone given the matter at hand. Soon the battered copper kettle gave forth steam and the tray was filled with porcelain cups, tea pot and the few utensils hastily located. All the while she feared another confrontation should someone enter. Jenny drew a breath, took up the tray and retraced her steps to the ward room. She paused listening, but heard no conversation through it's heavy door. She knocked too timidly the first time, and was forced to knock again. Hoping all the while, but knowing it was not likely the men had gone in so short a time.