The Watch Dog

[BriarRose Kildare]

BriarRose then asked the man, “Peux je vous aide monsieur?”

His squinting eyes widened a bit before answering, “Oui, ma dame. Mon missus est maladie avec mornin terrble '”

She smiled warmly and gestured for the young man to come in to the shop. “Veuillez venir dans monsieur. Et je verrai que ce que je peux trouver cela l'aidera.”

He entered the shop, bending his head to clear the doorway.

BriarRose went over to her apothecary kit and began to rummage around for the proper herbs that would help his wife with morning sickness. She found several herbs in her kit, anise, ginger and peppermint. Taking some muslin she cut it into squares then took and measured each set of herbs in to a cloth square. Then taking several different colors of ribbon she tied each one up. Going over to the desk she quickly wrote down each herb and the instructions on how it was to be taken.

Looking up at the young man she said, “J'ai enveloppé vers le haut trois herbes différentes qui aideront votre dame. L'anis aidera la maladie et n'importe quelle indigestion elle souffrant peut-être de. Le gingembre aidera la maladie de matin. Et si elle boit une tasse de thé de menthe poivrée chaque lit de befor de nuit il aidera à diminuer la première maladie de matin. Chacun doit être fait dedans un thé et elle si le SIP le thé lentement.”

His face lit up in to a smile as he said, “Ma dame vous remercient tellement. Combien est-ce que je vous dois ?”

Shaking her head, BriarRose said, “rien.”

He said with great emphasis, “Non, aucune ma dame. Je payerai. Je serai de retour avec certaines de nos marchandises de magasins pour vous.”

Smiling again, BriarRose, handed the man the herbs and instructions and said, “Ce serait très pensif de vous. Merci.”

Bowing, he then said, “Merci chère dame. Bonne journée à vous.” And with that he left the shop.

[Pew]

August 3, 1704, Aboard the Lucy

"No, thank you," replied Preston. "Miss...what was 't again?"

"Ashcombe sir," she replied.

"Right, Miss Ashcombe. How 'bout just Ash. Shorter an' all, easier t' yell. ASH!!" Preston yelled and nearly scared the girl out the stern windows.

"As you wish sir," she replied.

"'Tis a nice night gerl, catch some air 'n th' deck ifin y' please." She cursied proper and walked to the door. As she turned the handle a heavy knock rang out and scared her again.

"S a'right. See who 't is." Miss Ashcombe opened the door and spoke quietly. She turned, "It's Mister Goddon sir."

"Very well. See 'im in." Ash opened the door and waved Charlie Goddon to the table. "That'll b' all Ash." She closed the door behind her, so still Preston did not hear it latch.

"Sah. Reportin' as ordered," stated Charlie.

Preston sat on the edge of the table. "Your Mister Norman, how is he?"

"I've seen 'im take harder sah. Bit o' a lump 's all."

"You make it a matter t' strike your subordinates Mister Goddon?" Preston said bluntly. The smile disappeared from Charlie's face.

"No sah...but he's... well..."

Preston was now standing at the head of the table with his back to the stern windows. "You were his superior officer , no?"

"Aye sah."

"Had you struck him before Mister Goddon? Aboard the..Bullrush did you say?"

"Aye sah, on both accounts." Charlie replied truthfully. He truly had nothing to hide, nor did he have to account for his actions in past history. Standing before the Ship's Master he saw no silver oar of the Admiralty hidden anywhere. Charlie's smile crept back in.

[Dorian Lasseter]

La Montre De Nuit

As Dorian watched, William wrote out a short letter and let the ink dry before folding and addressing it to one Lieutenant Turcotte of the Fort Royal Garrison. As that dried Dorian took a sheet of parchment and his own quill. William raised an eyebrow to his as he began to write.

“Ta Preston… need ta let ‘im know th’ situation…”

He dropped his voice some and added.

“Need ta let ‘im know we might have a man aboard capable o’ back stabbin’ an officer... let him know of Den Oven, just ta be careful.”

William nodded and Dorian continued writing. Once finished both letters were sealed and given to two different young lads with coin and instructions. Captain Brand’s letter to be given to the man directly and the boy to wait for a reply. Lasseters’ to be delivered to the Lucy’s Master and that was all. They sat in the drinking house and relaxed, if you could call it that. Both men were quiet for a time, internalizing their thoughts of the recent turn of events. When the woman came back for an order, both men took their time to order something light, not needing a heavy meal and actually not needing anything more to drink. Once the woman had gone, Dorian excused himself to use the privy, which turned out to be not more than a trough in back of the establishment. He returned shortly and settled himself just as their drinks were delivered. Once alone it was William’s turn to use the necessary and Dorian warned him of its openness. All they could do at the moment was wait. Wait for a response, wait for the next thing to happen…

[Alder]

The carpenter had long pondered the placement of the figurehead. Sketches met with the Captain’s approval, though much of the final engineering remained undefined. Until she had tasted the curve of the bow herself, there would be uncertainty. Alder’s own reflections of this goddess vexed and seduced his thoughts. Dawn would not wait her arrival. Dispite the activity of late, he had sequestered himself in planning even as her form had been and was still unseen. Alas, on this eve she must make her union.

Lost in contemplation, the carpenter rubbed against the unfamiliar stubble on his chin and was momentarily distracted by the dishabilled image he imagined projecting. He cast his uncomfortable gaze upon the night weary procession of onlookers, but captured neither eye nor head he wished to otherwise turn. Having spent all his time upon this maiden at the expense of his own presentation gave him some pause. How curious that the care of his benefactress had supplanted even his most basic needs. "Yer indeed the vixen," he thought to himself with a wry grin, as he planted a hand upon her wrapped form.

Self doubt nagged this otherwise skilled craftsman. Few were the shipwrights who had mounted a figurehead to a vessel of their own design; fewer still had adapted one after the fact. Alder had carefully observed and absorbed every line of her grain. He knew every weakness and also every strength of both the Lucy and her guide to be.

Obsession with the deed lit his soul and the lanterns that illuminated his work. Cries rose on the salt air as ropes and pulleys were repositioned with care and precision as the lady was slowly lowered over the side of the Lucy and brought forward. Each block and the accompaning ropes served their purpose to fight gravity as crewmembers strained not under the weight of the load, but of the intricacies of precise placement. Likewise the carpenter dangled in the darkness alongside his charge narrowly escaping the crushing blows of her frame against himself and then the bow. The random gasps that fell over the rail were of little comfort.

Alder wiped the beading sweat from his brow as he clung to the web of ropes that surrounded the both of them. The canvas strap cast over one shoulder secured a satchel of custom pieces and favored tools insomuch as one could be prepared for the ambiguity of such a task. Even as a castoff, Alder calculated the length, girth and arrangement of the sheared rods that must have held her fast. Now, these fashioned items emerged one by one as layers of canvas fell section by section. Even the nocturnal drapes of the eventide could not mask all that Alder had wished.

Onlookers nodded in unseen approval as greyed glimpses of her carved drape of cerulean blue peeked out in a shade that would taunt the sky for prominence. The forceful rhythm of mallet and determination went unnoticed as first the rope bindings of the gown and then a cascade of auburn locks were revealed by the rays from the swaying latern. The length of her torso and silken flesh; though somewhat obscured by the grappling limbs of her sponsor, brought both proud smiles and envious glances. As his work methodically progressed, significant and elusive element remained. None other had yet to view the majesty of her head and shoulders nor the mystery of what appeared to be an outstretched arm. The mutterings enlivened when, after hours of toil, the carpenter made his final ascent over the railing and was once again safely upon the deck. The greetings of handshaking and slaps on the back assured both skill and place aboard the Lucy. The carpenter trod with satisfaction toward his bearth having for the first time in many a night abandoning his lady's side.

The specialized riggings were unceremoniously removed one by one. The mood stilled, anticipation remained. One well braided rope fastened to the one still remaining drape, rose over the bow and fell onto the deck. All awaited her Captain’s touch for ultimate reveal.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Waist of the Lucy

Miss Ashcombe closed the heavy ward room door as quietly as possible, grateful for the fresher night air as well as the quiet. Away from the Ships Master and his brusque manner. She suspected it was usual with Mr. Pew and that she would become accustomed to his outbursts as well as the rough edges of the rest within the ship's company. As she stuck to the shadows near the edge of the quarterdeck, Jenny looked towards the flickering lights dotting the shore and winking in the darkened hills beyond St. Louis. Standing here on the Lucy's freshly scrubbed deck she realized she was already removed from that which had been her home these past five years.

Jenny looked up into the rigging and forward where she could just make out the edges of the Captain's newly placed figurehead still shrouded.

This would be wholly different, she thought, than the staid manner of the plantation's main house. She was not unaccustomed to folk less posessed of societies affectations, having been always more comfortable amongst the slaves and the servants of Ilse de Generosite. Though rough, they had always seemed to posess more life than Martin Garaud, his mansevant St. James or various others whom had passed through or filled its halls and guest houses. More resembling dusty and laborious tomes left forgotten on a shelf and unwiling to allow their contents any diversion into whimsy. Stating only cold and unimaginative fact. Miss Ashcombe preferred her life to have pages full of color and daring. It was a frightening thought and thrilling at the same time to be leaving that which had cared for her as well as it had distressed her in recent months. But her resolve had been set. Though her heart ached for the children, she could no more guarantee that she would stay within their lives if she remained any longer at Martinique "The die is cast.." she said softly and turned away from the shore to look towards the Watch Dog and the sea beyond. What lay ahead was all that would matter now. Where it would take her was still uncertain. Though the thought itself was not troubling.

[Black Syren]

The gentle slap of the water against the ship, the spray hitting her face as she stared out across the open expanse to shore the gentle sway should have been relaxing. Nails tightening in the wood and a low growl caused a masculine chuckle at her elbow and she turned enough to see Ciaran still leaning against the rail. “Wot has ye in such a state lass?”

Gritting her teeth she jerked her chin to shore “I hope Miss Smith is unharmed, I do not think I can trust them any further than I can throw them. not only that Why do they wait till our Captain is not here till they come a-courtin'. It just does not seem ....right.” She glared at the Navarra anchored peacefully nearby causing another chortle. “Not yer decision lass..and Miss Smith knows how to ‘andle ‘erself. We best be scurryin’ back up .”

As he turned and moved away she tossed her head defiantly sending black tendrils about her like a swarthy flame and narrowed her eyes once more upon the Navarra. Then she whirled away and made her way to the foremast and clambered up. Once settled she let the drift and sway of the sea lull her into relaxing tightly strung nerves.

A song, a haunting melody settled over the ship, she sang as she usually did needing to work out her emotions…Argus whined once below then settled against the mast and put his head upon his paws then was soon asleep.

Ciaran watched Treasure for a moment then looked down upon those below then he too glanced across to the Navarra and to shore. He shivered once as the song continued and saw one of the new recruits cross himself and glance upwards. With a glare to the recruit he had him scurrying off to some task and settled back to listen to the haunting song before wondering if the other ships too could hear the melody.

With a yawn he settled back and kept vigil and as the song ended the ship seemed a trifle more at peace than before, he would swear he had nearly caught a smile as Mister Badger looked to Treasure before looking away and gruffly shouting commands.

[Silkie McDonough]

Aboard the Lucy

Whatever malady the carpenter suffered from the larboard watch was exposed to it. What could possess the man that would not let him wait until morning light to finish the mounting of the figure head, to push on with the task after dark? Did the mystery of the form outweigh the safety of those involved out below the bowsprit or was it simply an artisans desire to see the project completed? Benjamin Quigley did not pose these questions aloud but mused as he helped man the lines that held Alder Wenge and Jonas McCormick above the water. At least the carpenter himself was one of those below the bowsprit in the dark doing the majority of the work.

Once the lady was firmly in place the crew returned to the waist joining the others on board enjoying the extra measure of grog allowed while they were in harbor. Mister Quigley took note of a lone figure skirting the waist in the shadows. Small enough to be a powder monkey but the graceful movement and elegant posture of a lady could not be hidden by the worn sailor’s slops. Captain Brand had said there were women aboard when he recruited at the prison but until now they had been rumor and nothing more to Ben. He had seen women on the ship but each had gone in turn. He had yet to meet any female crew, the women, it seemed, were stationed on the Watch Dog and not on the Lucy. He had mixed feelings about having women on board, mostly trepidations. Single women could be a world of trouble within the confines of any ship let alone one as small as the Lucy. Ben knew that many a privateer ship had women aboard cooking, tailoring but most were the wives of some crew member and therefore squabbles of who held a womans favor were not an issue. In the Royal Navy no women were allowed aboard save perhaps an occasional officer’s wife or mistress. Mister Quigley’s 25 years of sailing had been spent with men alone aboard; this would indeed be a new experience. He nodded to the woman as she noticed him looking her way then returned again to his knot work.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe's personal reverie was broken and her attention drawn back amidships where crew began to pass nearby collecting in small groups. They carried tankards and their mood seemed light, though they kept their voices low. As she edged closer to the wall she could make out different accents and a name or two amongst their conversation. None it seemed, had seen her. Jenny shifted from her position to gain a better view, which caused her to step into a patch of lamplight. One man turned towards her and her skin chilled. A large and imposing figure regarded her, though he didn't move. He was tall and broad with shaven head and bore a scar down one cheek which dissapeared into the neckline of his sweat soaked shirt. Jenny fought the urge to run back to the ward room and the safety of Mr. Pew. She though of Captain Brand's words. That he could not guarantee her safety, that the men who traveled with them bore a history unknown and likely dark. Her lip trembled and she held to the wood of the wall she stood against. Then the man simply nodded which she returned slowly, looking down. When she raised her eyes again, he had turned back to the ropes he worked in his large hands. Jenny let out a silent breath and moved further from the men, careful to stay away from lighted patches and straying too near the rail which faced the shore.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston finished the report from Charlie Goddon with a simple, "That'll b' all."

"Aye sah." Charlie turned and returned to his post. Preston made a note to discuss the evening with Captain Lasseter. Several things he questioned about the man. Striking a subordinate, not that Preston found particular issue with it, but would he strike the wrong man, whom he didn't know as well. A good candidate for Bo'sun's mate, the man knew his job for sure. Preston stewed placidly in the Ward Room continuing to read the ledgers and make himself familiar with the ship. He heard commotion on deck, not ill, but commotion just the same.

He found the crew milling about trying to peek at the Ship's Carpenter's work. As he made his way to the bow, he quietly hustled the crew back to their stations to continue to ready the Lucy for sail. Alder Wenge was making his way aft with his satchel still round his shoulder.

"Mister Alder."

"Ah, Good evening to you sir." The carpenter still had the ting of sweat atop his brow and smell of work about him.

"A fine job t' b' sure."

"Thank you sir, but how do.."

"I do not. I have seen your craftsmanship aboard th' Lucy. I am no doubt t' b' impressed."

"Thank you sir, she's ready for Captain Lasseter."

"Excellent. Find yourself a warm plate and tankard t' match."

"Aye sir, thank you sir."

Alder dipped his head slightly in deference to the Ship's Master to which the nod was returned, Mister Wenge slipped below quietly.

Meanwhile, North and west of the docks

Eric and Robert had found Jean easily in one of his haunts. A plate of victuals and a few tankards informed Jean of the goings-on as of late. A journey was embarked upon to Aube Sucré to see if word had been passed of the crew.

Along the way several villages had been questioned as to if they had seen any men fitting the description of those from the Watch Dog. It was hard to miss a man dark as midnight and standing well over 6 foot tall. All responses were met as the same with a shrug or simple shake of the head.

Until they reached the mansion.

An attendant met the horses with a lantern. The attendant recognized Jean's gait even in this hour of night. Small talk met the group in the short distance it was to the main house. Jean threw his cape over one shoulder and rested his hand on his sword hilt. The men were three abreast as if ready to do battle.

The three men were met at the front door by a servant offering to take clothing or armaments. Jean shook his head and whisper a request for his brother. The servant nodded and the men continued into the great hall.

The room was filled with several hundred candles and a small fire flickered opposite them. The windows were open and the warm evening breeze blew through the house assuredly. Jean's bother appeared from a back room followed closely behind by an attendant and a plate of fruits and cheese.

“Jean, Tu m'as manqué mon frere’,” said the cook with outstretched arms.

“Ah oui, Tomas,” Jean returned the hug and turned to the Eric and Robert.

“Gentleman, velcome again to Manoir de Aube Sucré."

Eric Franklin abruptly halted the welcome, and pardoned his own rudeness but explained the reason for the late hour visit.

"Ah oui. We 'ave heard."

"Pardon?"

"Ze slave ahn zee murder," replied Tomas. The crew of the Watch Dog looked at each strangely. He waved in the direction of the leather chairs and offered drink. Each nodded and sat as the cook poured each a deep glass. Tomas delivered the drinks and sat himself closest to the fire. He regaled the men with the details of the murder of Monsieur Basile Duflot de Mofras and seemingly endless supply of rum. There was only one point that perked Robert and Eric's interest. Tomas mentioned that a servant returning from the fields in the height of the storm did see three men ride by quickly on horseback near the Northern-most fields. Odd, in the fact that there was little to anyone that lived on that end of the island and the conditions were nearly impassable that night.

[Dorian Lasseter]

The Cox’n continued to stifle his yawns as he did his duty, walking the deck and making sure all was well. He’d had two tankards of the rich coffee that Mister Marsh had brewing, it seemed an endless pot and Nigel wondered how much coffee they had left onboard. He yawned again, a huge yawn that he could not suppress. Once he gained control he shook his head hard, trying to clear it. No use. He needed to get some sleep. Nigel began looking for the Ship’s Master so he might turn over the deck to him formally. He found Mister Pew forward, the Carpenter just heading below.

“Mister Pew? Permission ta retire fer a wee bit? I been walkin’ th’ decks since returnin’ from shore-leave.”

Pew looked him over, noticed the bags under his eyes and surmised he’d had a very good time ashore. He scoffed and shook his head.

“Alright, Mister Brisbane, go b’low, but ye best be ready an’ topside if I calls ya.”

“Aye Sah, I will be… Thank ya, sah…”

Nigel knuckled his brow and Pew returned it, so the Cox’n turned away and headed to his berth, checked on his rats to be sure all was well, and climbed into his hammock. He was fast asleep and his snores could be heard on deck until another crewman elbowed him in the ribs and he quieted down.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704

At three bells of the First Watch, Dorian's letter to Master Pew arrived aboard the Lucy, where it was received and passed aft to the officer of the deck. Also at three bells of the same watch, Lieutenant Roldán De la Cruz and Tudor Smith departed La cuisine de St. Martha, bound for the St. Louis docks while another Lieutenant, Monsieur Raul Turcotte, arrived at the La Montre De Nuit in the company of his thorough man, Quirion Charron.

William and Dorian had waited at the small establishment long enough to question whether or not the Lieutenant would even arrive, but Turcotte had been busy since the delivery of the message, having already employed his excessive drive to achieve on the task of learning again what William had already described. Still, the driven Lieutenant had managed to discover the name of a second Frenchman who had arrived with the first by coach to collect Captain den Oven. In his enthusiasm, Turcotte had already dispatched soldiers to find the man and his carriage. He had also used the intervening time to send word to his superiors and beyond, noting that the Particular Governor of Martinique and acting Governor General of the Islands and the Firm Ground of the Americas, Nicolas de Gabaret, would have word of the escape.

William and Dorian exchanged a look. For himself, William had hoped to keep the matter small, even private. His own men had been named and he and he alone had hoped to discover whether or not they had been involved. Much needed to be learned before drawing the power of France into the hunt for den Oven. Turcotte seemed to recognize this and he smiled a smile which William liked not at all.

It was the smile of the empowered youth, given charge over his elders. It was the catbird grin. The smile of the fox in the henhouse.

William smiled just enough in return to be cordial. He had planned to use the Lieutenant of course, but with limitations. Now, the young officer, this imagined terrier, was a league before him on the path of den Oven. It was not as he had planned. Still, William smiled outwardly even as he shrugged away his demolished expectations inwardly.

Turcotte, propelled by the momentum of discovery and his efforts to shine before his superiors, plowed into William and Dorian with many questions. These came in quick succession. Sometimes he was content with a simple answer, but other times he pressed them for details, especially when touching on the subject of the three missing men. More than once he asked after them, implying many things in his tone as he did so. It was clear after a time that he thought that one or all of them had conspired to free den Oven. It was also made plain by his inquiries that he somehow imagined himself to be above William and Dorian. His air of superiority, previously diminished aboard the Lucy and the Watch Dog, had returned in long strides.

'I've sparked a dry field' William thought and wondered to himself if Dorian's patience for the young upstart was also being undermined by his persistent onslaught of words. Only the friendly presence of Turcotte's Sergeant had kept William himself from becoming terse. Sergeant Charron had smiled pleasantly and interjected his own tactful commentary throughout the conversation, but even Charron's genuine calm seemed to dwindle as the Lieutenant reached the end of his prolonged inquiry to announce that they would all accompany him while he fetched Donatien Durand. At this, Quirion Charron blanched.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As both he and William answered the many questions of Turcotte, Dorian felt the tension rise ever so slowly. The Lieutenant still held them both in some sort of contempt. When Turcotte said they would accompany him to ‘fetch’ Monsieur Donatien Durand, Dorian watched as the colour drained from Sergeant Charron’s face. Having spent quite some time in the presence of Durand, Dorian had a feel for how much he did not enjoy Turcotte and his whims. This actually brought a smile to Captain Lasseter’s face. He settled back in his chair and took a drink from his almost empty tankard.

“Do you think it wise for us to visit Monsieur Durand at this hour?”

Dorian knew this would push the Lieutenant to do just that, to push the envelope of his presumed control and power. They would be in Durand’s home this late evening. You could count on that just by the look on the Lieutenant’s face as Dorian drank the dregs of his small beer.

[William Brand]

Moved below

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston watched as a young boy ran along the docks. 'Odd' he thought for a boy to be playing about at this time of night. He watched as the boy ran all the way to the Lucy. Preston met him at the gangway. The boy slipped Preston a letter and waited for proper due. The Ship's master rolled his eye's and fumbled for coin. The lad smiled and took off again for whereabouts unknown.

As he sat in the Ward Room Preston carefully read the letter penned to him by Captain Lasseter. He read it once or twice more before he slammed his fist on the table. "Fekkin' Dutchies" he mumbled to no one in particular. He made his way to the quartedeck to see which ship's officers were still about.

The Cox'un had turned in, but Mister Johnson was still about. Bill Flint and Nathaniel Brocke were under a pair of lanterns running a heavy stone down the edge of their blades. Each flick at the end of the sword brought that familiar 'cling' to ear. Lucky Tuck was not seen on deck but the men said he was last seen below securing the extra cables.

Preston excused himself as he interrupted one of Cut-throat stories to the wide-eyed powder monkeys.

"Beg pahdon, Mister Johnson, but Geoffrey, 'fin y' b' so kind 's find Mister Tucker f'r me, I'd 'preciate it."

The boy hopped to and knuckled his forelock.

"I need him 'n th' Ward Room at present."

"Aye sah!!"

"Yerself also, Mister Johnson. The Spanish Navy will have to wait." Preston smiled as the boys looked disappointed.

"Right then, hop to boys." Cut-throat growled. He never mentioned it but he loved the boys. Nicholas looked after them as if they were his own younger brothers. Maybe that was why he worked them as hard as his gun crews.

Preston yelled to Bill Flint in the bow, "Mister Flint! A moment 'n th' Ward Room if y' please."

The Ship's Master made his way aft to the Ward Room. Each man followed soon behind until the Lucy's officers were round the table.

Manoir de Aube Sucré

"This... servant you say. May we speak with him?" Robert said to Tomas' as he twirled a dagger between his fingers.

Tomas' called to one of his houseboys. He whispered in the boys ear and then smacked his shoulder, ''Dépêche-toi!! ''Dépêche-toi!" he yelled to the boy. "He vill look vor sees man."

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog

Lieutenant De la Cruz brought Tudor all the way back to the Watch Dog, first by carriage, then on foot and finally by boat. He had made no attempt to learn anything more about Captain Brand or the crew of the frigate, content to walk with Miss Smith with some limited conversation. When she was back aboard, Roldán made a gracious departure, thanking her for the evening.

Tudor had little time to ponder on the events of the night. She was left at the rail alone for only a moment before Jacob Badger met her there and explained that Captain den Oven was loose upon the world, he having learned of this by way of a message from the Lucy. Of course, Tudor was not pleased to hear this news, and it marred the evening, but she and Jacob talked about the fugitive Captain at length and orders were passed about to the remaining marines aboard to be ever watchful in their duties.

Despite what came before and what would come in the near future elsewhere on the island, the routine aboard the Watch Dog was quiet.

Aboard the Navarra

When Lieutenant Roldán De la Cruz arrived again aboard the Navarra, he went at once to the great cabin where he found Capitán Avendano in the company of the Ship's Doctor, Ettore Tarín. The two men were deeply entrenched in ledgers, charts and other documents laid out before them. Captain Avendano managed a cursory glance and a minute gesture of the hand before returning to the discussion at hand. It seemed that the two men were embroiled in a disagreement regarding the sale of a portion of the Navarra's goods. Ettore Tarín was of the opinion that almost a full third of the goods should be sold at Martinique to recoup their recent losses. Captain Avendano was adamant that all of the ships merchandise should be taken to Trinidad, where the goods would fetch a better price. Ettore Tarín turned this argument upon the Captain, stating that his own calculations showed that the standard currencies of France and Spain were at a premium on Martinique, and that the 'better price' would be obtained here.

The Lieutenant listened quietly to the arguments of both men, noting that each had his point, but that neither man was truly considering the larger picture. When both men had argued their sides until red-faced, they turned to Roldán.

"What think you, Lieutenant?" The Captain asked, expecting his man to side with him at once.

"I recommend a most beneficial compromise suggested by both you and the Doctor." They exchanged a haughty look with one another before returning their attention to the Lieutenant.

"Go on."

"The Doctor suggests that we sell one third of our goods to the French at a premium. While I agree that Spanish coin is worth more on Martinique than in Spain, I disagree that we should sell a third." Captain Avendano fixed Doctor Tarín with a smile of superiority and waited for the Lieutenant to continue. "Captain, I think we should sell half of the goods now."

Captain Avendano's expression soured a little. "Why?"

"In addition to fetching a premium in coin, we might also consider trading the goods for half their weight in sugar. In this way we can negotiate an even higher dividend through a trade of goods alone, decrease the weight in the holds by a fourth, and sell the sugar for a greatly enlarged price at Trinidad. We thus benefit ourselves through a displacement of weight and the twice reaping of profit."

The Captain and Doctor exchanged a look that was many things at once. Their appreciation for the Lieutenant's ideas not withstanding, there was also an undercurrent of mistrust for one so young who was capable of such calculation. It might have also been jealosy, but with a mixture of satisfaction and trepidation, they agreed that the Lieutenant's plan had married both of their opinions well and improved upon them both.

Elsewhere in St. Louis

Dorian and William did not enjoy the short carriage ride which brought them through unknown neighborhoods of St. Louis with the two French officers. The hour, while not very late, was very dark, and the streets they travelled did not enjoy many lamps. Also, the company was unpleasant, for Lieutenant Turcotte used up the Lion's share of the conversation, spouting off endless presumptions about the shooting on the bay and the escape of den Oven. William agreed continuously and even spurred him on at times with the practiced tact of one who has known politicians, career soldiers and unremitting liars. Dorian only made interchanges which fueled Turcotte's desire to employ Durand, enjoying how they fired the Lieutenant's imagination and the distinct shade of green which crept across the face of Charron.

After what seemed like an hour played out in a quarter-hour, they arrived at a modest looking home which served as a coffee house and a sometimes brothel. They were greeted at the door by a man named Jules Pommier who was so round that the definitions of his neck and legs were only made apparent when he moved. He seemed to loll in lazy arcs rather than walk, and his face was a ruddy, almost piggy mass of flesh that wobbled. Monieur Pommier attempted some humor in vain almost at once, but he gibbered more than laughed, and the sound was most unpleasant. They were saved from too much conversation with him, for the Lieutenant was abrupt and cut the man off in his greetings.

"Where is Monsieur Durand?"

"I...cannot say for certain, Monsieur. He may..." the man began, but Turcotte pushed past him, despite the proprietor's protests.

The Lieutenant rushed through the main rooms of the ground floor and up a flight of stairs to a short hallway on the second floor. Charron would have halted the Lieutenant in his haste, but the awkward decorum of allowing the two Captains to go before him prevented this, and since no one else was there to halt Turcotte's momentum, he was able to burst upon Durand with only the merest of knocks. In truth, he barely let his knuckles fall upon the door before he threw his shoulder into it. The door, while locked, was poorly fitted and the jam gave way just enough that the latch made an unpleasant popping sound as it went. The door swung wide and thumped upon the wall and the Lieutenant strode to the center of the room in three long strides. William and Dorian followed at an even gait, but made no attempt to move further than the threshold. Charron arrived on their heels and halted in the hallway.

Donatien Durand, known to some as L'ours and to others as L'homme secret de Paris, looked up from where he lay. The room was of two parts, with most of the room on one level, with the area containing the bed on a slightly raised platform against the wall opposite the door. Durand lay there in a tangle of arms and legs belonging not to one woman, but two. They were engaged in what can only be described as an enthusiastic "household of three", entwined together in an act not meant for public viewing. The intimate threesome reacted in three altogether different ways, with one woman crying out in surprise, one woman covering herself in shocked silence and one very angry but quiet Bear.

Turcotte looked pleased as punch at this opportunity to interrupt Durand in the very same way in which Durand had interrupted him, forgetting the dangerous man's warnings from before. Dorian wore a smile that said many things, and while it most certainly had something to do with the embarrassment of the situation, most of it was in regards to what Durand might do to Turcotte next. William, who had witnessed scenes of various embarrassment, first hand and by accident, took the scene in stride, wearing the face of the calm outsider. Only Charron looked ill.

After the one woman's initial scream, there followed a long silence. So pronounced was it, that music could be heard from a neighboring establishment. Durand, whose face had been angry in an instant, now looked calm in a way that was angry to be sure, but more like murderous intent. He did not move at first. He simply lay where he was. Then after a moment's pause he lifted himself up to his knees and stepped from the bed very slowly. He was completely naked, as were his companions, but he if he cared about this, he didn't show it. He crossed the floor with as much dignity, bearing and solemnity as a man might cross over a kirkyard. He walked right up to Turcotte until he stood in the man's face. "Come for me again to do thy bidding, whelp?"

"I have an errand whi..." Turcotte began, but Durand seized him by the throat, cutting off his breath and words. He did this with one monstrous hand and Turcotte went for his blade in an act that was born of pure instinct. As he drew the weapon, Durand assisted him, propelling it out of the scabbard and away with such force that it clattered across the floor, disappearing under a table. Tucrotte would have struck the man then, but Durand propelled him away and Dorian and William were both obliged to step to the side as Turcotte crashed against the already open door.

One of the women took this opportunity to flee the room half covered, while the other remained in wide-eyed silence. Durand glared at Turcotte, who tried and failed to find his voice. He clutched his bruised throat and choked. Durand then fixed Dorian and William with an unpleasant expression that dared them to speak. William obliged him. "My apologies, Sah. I had no reason to believe that Lieutenant Turcotte would enter your room unannounced and unbid."

Durand's expression, did not alter at this. He turned a threatening finger on Turcotte, who had recovered himself a little. "Speak not. I'll have your tongue at a word." he growled.

"We have come on an errand of utmost urgency." William continued. Durand faced him again. "An enemy of France has escaped the Fort Royal Prison."

This seemed to capture enough of Durand's interest that his expression softened. It did not become pleasant, but his eyes showed some spark of civility, at least towards Captain Brand. "Go on."

William made no attempt to create a deep or compelling narration of the events which had lead them there. His explanation was brief and to the point, touching on only the most important facts of the moment. He spoke for only a few moments and Durand listened the whole while, standing as they had found him, naked but for his bearing. There followed a few short questions with equally short answers.

During this interchange, Durand began to dress, though he seemed to do this as an afterthought. William noted that the man had some pronounced scars upon him which where old enough to be almost lost against his skin. A few of these were vicious looking marks which suggested near mortal wounds. Many of them were small, but the size angle and placement of them did not render them dismissible, for most of them were scars from stab wounds.

William reached the point in his explanation where he suggested that the shooting on the bay might be tied to den Oven. Durand looked at William then and searched his face for something hidden, for Durand was not foolish enough to believe that den Oven's escape and the previous day's shooting had anything to do with each other. Durand even smiled a little, though Turcotte misinterpreted it. "We believe that the two incidents may be connected." William finished.

"Indeed." Durand returned, and it was all that he said for several minutes.

Four bells of the First Watch

Larboard Watches on Duty

[Dorian Lasseter]

Watching the scene play out in front of them, Dorian could do no more than fix as pleasant a look on his face he could. It was quite difficult, because he wanted to laugh at the Lieutenant and what Durand had done to him, and imagined what he would do to him. He even held his breath at one point to keep himself quiet and was relieved the William spoke for them both on the subject at hand. He did manage a slow nod at appropriate times in the exchange between Captain Brand and Monsieur Durand, hoping to add credibility to William’s words. Dorian also caught that Turcotte seemed to regain some of his ego as Durand smiled at what William said, however he did not add his thoughts to the dialog, He held his tongue, for once being smart and remembering the promise Durand had given about removing said tongue. At one point while it was quiet, Durand continued to dress while thinking over the facts given to him, Dorian looked over to the bed where the one woman had remained, covering herself with the sheet. He gave a brief smile and nod, to which she cast her eyes down, so he turned back to watching the Lieutenant and Durand, wondering if both would exit the room intact.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704

Durand finished dressing enough to satisfy the requirements of polite society. He poured himself a glass of brandy, making a point to pour one for each Captain. He passed the first to Dorian who excepted it wearing a smile which came and went with his passing thoughts. He passed another to William, who noted Durand's conspicuous disregard to extend the same courtesy to Turcotte or Charron. Dorian drank and raised an appreciative eyebrow at the quality of the beverage, while William only held his glass and waited to see what Durand would say next.

Meanwhile, Turcotte stood near the wall all but summarily dismissed. He straightened his waistcoat and righted his hat upon his head. He did this with the slow dignity of one wronged and ignored, a sort of terrible calm in his demeanor. His face, quiet outwardly, could not hide the cold unpleasant hatred that burned in his eyes. It was punctuated by the blatant silence he kept. He said nothing and made no effort to leave the spot upon which Durand had set him, content by choice or will to wait.

"What do you need of me, Monsieur?" Durand finally said when he had finished one glass and begun a second. He did not look at any one person as he asked this, his eyes on some distant thought. Turcotte stepped forward only a little at the question, but Charron, the Lieutenant's thorough man, stopped him with a touch on his arm. Charron had returned to himself a little in the silence, and the little loyalty he felt for the young officer, moved him to halt the headstrong Turcotte.

"My men are missing." William said simply, noting the exchange between Charron and Turcotte. "I would know what has become of them."

Durand finished his second glass with a nod to William. He turned to Turcotte. "You have the name of the man in the carriage, no?"

"I do."

"You will seek the man out and have him brought to the...?"

"Lucy." William finished, and looked to Dorian, who nodded.

"Oui...Lucy." he repeated. Turcotte took this order like so much vinegar and said nothing. There were arguments in his posture and vile words on his lips, but he simply gestured to the table where his sword had come to rest and Charron fetched it back for him. Turcotte replaced it in the scabbard. "I will forget tonight's infraction, Monsieur." Durand said, turning his back on the Lieutenant. Turcotte said nothing, but as he left the room it was clear that he would never forget what had happened there.

[Pew]

Aboard the Lucy

Preston eyed the men around the table. The room was full of question and confusion. Preston retrieved the letter received from Captain Lasseter. Clearing his throat, he began. He watched as each ship's officer closed their gaze just a fraction. Each breath focused on Dorian's written word.

Cut-throat was the first to pound his fist on the table. This upset the tankard, draining what little liquid was left.

Mister Tucker was the first to speak. "One from the Heron, on board here? Stabbed Stoneburrows?"

"Possibly." Preston leafed through the ship's ledger until he arrived at the list of men assigned to the Lucy. He read through the list once, silently, and then a second time. The men discussed among themselves their own suspects and reasons why. Preston held up his hand and read down the list aloud. The officer's shook their heads at most of the names. The only name that raised eyebrows was O'hara. Preston kept his finger on the name.

"I just sent this man t' th' chiriurgeon."

"O'hara, eh?" His finger tapped a few times on the written word.

He gave the men an order to seek this man out in secrecy. Preston stood and crossed his arms, "Bring him t' th' Ward Room, should you find him."

"Aye," repeated the officers.

[Dorian Lasseter]

Soon after The Lieutenant and his Sergeant had departed, Durand finished his brandy and set the empty glass aside. Dorian noting this also finished his and returned his glass to the table as well. William who had not partaken of his brandy now did so as Durand took his time in relative silence to continue dressing. He splashed some water on his face and ran a critical hand across his cheek before toweling off, deciding that the slight stubble could wait to be removed at a later time. Once dressed to his own standards he looked to the woman who still remained in his bed. His jaw tightened for a moment as he glanced at the two captains. He pardoned himself from the two men and approached the bed, speaking so low she alone could barely hear his words. He took up one of her hands and kissed the back of it, causing her to blush slightly. He straightened and turned back to the men.

“It is time we returned to your ships, captains.”

He held his hand out in a gesture towards the door, and both William and Dorian took the cue. Once outside the room Dorian turned back and noted Durand had left a small pile of specie on the table next to the brandy. He turned away quickly as the tall man settled his sword into place and took up a significant walking stick, heading towards the door. He walked past the Captains and led the way. As they walked down the hallway from the rooms of Monsieur Durand, Captain Lasseter mused on the situation just passed. He was surprised no blood had been spilled, frankly. As they walked down the hallway, only the sound of their footfalls commented their passing. Once they reached the common room, the veil of silence again surrounded them as all in the space stilled their tongues and movement. The proprietor approached with apologies to Durand who silenced him with a look and slight nod. Dorian and William exchanged looks, both knowing Monsieur Pommier was on the loosing end of a deal, and to keep good faith with Durand began to offer certain ‘services’ at no cost. Again a severe look from Durand silenced the round proprietor, for good this time. Soon the three of them were in the streets, headed back to the wharf near Fort Royal.

[Pew]

Preston followed the officers out the door of the Ward Room.

In his most calm voice, he tugged Christopher Tucker's sleeve and whispered to him.

Christopher Tucker stood tall in the waist, cupped his hands and yelled, "All HANDS, ALL HANDS!!". He rapidly rang the bell 5 times, at 5 second repeats. Preston crossed his hands behind his back and watched from the quarterdeck.

The crew mustered in the waist and the Ship's master waited until the din had died down.

Bill Flint stood with his marines, each looking the polished button of perfection. Cut-throat stood with his gun crews, one foot on a gun carriage, quietly packing his pipe. Nigel, wiping the few minutes rest from his eyes, yawned and leaned against the rail with Logan Christie by his side. Preston looked over the crowd and saw Mister Wenge and nodded to him.

Preston began by raising his hand and the crowd ceased discussion. He introduced himself and explained that Captain Lasseter would be returning within the evening. The Ship's Master wanted no block unturned, no cable frayed, and the ship looking as if it would go on inspection by the Holy Father himself. The figurehead was to be unsheathed in the morning and he wanted a ship looking proper for it. He finished his delivery with a 'Aye?' to which a resounded one was returned.

"Carry on," was all he replied. The ship's officers each barked their own orders to their separate crews. Preston stood again, hands clasped, watching the buzz return to the deck. He thought hopfully that those last few jobs would be completed by Dorian's arrival. To which he remembered the heavy canvas package.

He waited a moment longer and returned to the shaded lantern of the Ward Room.

[William Brand]

August 3, 1704

Dorian, Durand and William walked the lamp lit streets in relative silence, but for the few questions and answers that passed between them. Durand focused his inquiries on the three missing men as they walked, with many of the questions but repeats of Turcotte's earlier inquisition. Still, where Turcotte had implied quilt, Durand implied nothing, remaining entirely neutral to the men that he had never met.

For his part, William was glad of Durand's company. L'Ours was blunt and somewhat disconcerting to be certain, but he with him carried an air of purpose that boded more good than ill. He was a man of some unexplainable power, a power which allowed him a strange amount of political maneuverability, rubbing shoulders with men of power, while not being subject to them. Also, he was now a wall between them and Turcotte and this alone was benefit enough to the Whole Company.

'Let the Turcotte's of the world come and dare the field of Durand.' William thought with some amusement, then his thoughts returned to another entirely, for they passed a street connecting with that street where Miss Maeve O'Treasaigh resided. This caused him to consider an avenue he had not thought on before. The Watch Dog, and indeed the Whole Company, no longer found themselves in the capable hands of a skilled surgeon. Apart from a few medical understandings spread among a handful of experienced sailors, there was no one to tend to grave injuries aboard either ship.

"Hmm." William said aloud and both men looked to him. William shook his head to indicate that his passing thought was of no importance and Durand used this opportunity to repeat one of several unanswered questions.

"Would your man, Ajayi use any opportunity open to him to remain a free man?"

William pondered the question a while and said nothing. It was fair question, and he had asked himself it already, but in his estimation speculation was a waste of time, so he didn't answer. Durand did not press the question, letting it hang unanswered on the air like so many that had come and would yet come in the days ahead.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As the men walked to the wharf, exchanging questions and answers, Dorian noticed the handful of locals seem to part as they came through. It seemed that Durand was known to every man, woman, and child in these parts. He was respected and feared by the looks given. Dorian was quiet for a short time, mulling over those questions asked and answered, and those unanswered. A question he had came to mind.

“Monsieur Durand, what port would be the next biggest for trade here on Martinique?”

Durand’s pace barely altered at the question, and two long strides later he answered.

“Saint Pierre would be the port, capitaine Lasseter. Have you thought we might look there?”

Dorian looked to William who wore a thoughtful expression and nodded, then spoke.

“I think that would be a place to look for many people and things.”

Again the three walked in silence, each man dwelling on their own thoughts. Once they reached the wharf and headed to the Lucy, the noise from the dock workers and businesses still making trade was enough to keep them from focusing on previous thoughts. As they approached the gang plank to the Lucy, Dorian took the lead and strode confidently across and onto his ship. He nodded to the two marines standing guard, who in turn saluted. He then welcomed Captain Brand and Monsieur Durand aboard. Dorian noticed that since his departure, much more cleaning and squaring away of the ship had been done. He turned back to William and Donatien.

“Tis a fine evening, shall we stay on deck or do we wish to head below? I leave it to you, but I’m happy t’injoy the air… I’ll be happy ta have chairs brought up, there be enough space on th’ quarter…”

Mister Tucker approached Captain Lasseter and knuckled his brow, reporting all was well abard and Master Pew was below. Dorian raised a brow at the man.

“Come back early from shore leave? An’ I see others from th’ Starb’d watch about as well… All’s well, eh?”

Tucker smiled some and explained that he and some of the others were near by on shore watching and then helping with the attachment of the figurehead, once that was accomplished some had stayed aboard. Dorian thought it odd but accepted the excuse and bid the man to carry on. He turned back to William and Donatien, waiting for their thoughts on weather to stay on deck to await Turcotte or head below presently.

[Red Cat Jenny]

Miss Ashcombe had watched as several men filed into the Lucy's ward room. She'd started towards the doorway assuming she might be expected by the ship's Master, but the last man through shut the door resolutely behind him and she stood instead contemplating it's unremarkable grain. There was only the murmer of conversation and she felt too intimidated to enter uninvited. Jenny instead took a small turn about the closest reaches of the deck. She'd no sooner circled back towards the now emptying cabin when separate voices caught her attention. Three figures, two familiar followed by one large man whom she judged from his dress to be either a captain of one of the ships at anchor or some official of St Louis, ascended the gangplank. Jenny ducked quickly into the Ward Room and stopped in front of Mr. Pew as he gathered a ledger from the new table. "Sir, Captains Lasseter and Brand have returned. " He straightened and waited for her to finish glancing past her to the open doorway. "They have another man with them."

[Alder]

Alder had nodded back to Preston in deference to his role and mutual appreciation for the ceremony that lay on the morrow. He was well pleased that health had returned to this stalwart bastion who so ably led the Lucy in the absence of her Captain.

The carpenter remained only momentarily to observe the lantern shadowed fray splintered in every direction. Small but determined cadres set about the last spit ‘n polish that was about to beg the Captain’s approval. Alder facilitated the labors of men eager to be led but felt ill at ease with such demands. Preferring to work alongside, the carpenter instilled a degree of levelness that would both garner their fellowship in labor and command an echelon of respect he was unaccustomed to.

Upon hearing the voice of Captain Lasseter on the night air, Alder excused himself from their closing efforts and made his way toward its source.

[Dorian Lasseter]

As Dorian turned back to Captain Brand and Monsieur Durand, the latter took in a quick breath.

“Your men will be found Capitain Brand, and Lasseter, but not by standing on your deck. And this Capitain Den Oven.... Pardonez moi, I shall be off to find what I may. As for awaiting Turcotte…”

His eye ticked as he spoke the man’s name and he made a gesture of dismissal.

“I bid you good evening Capitains…”

He bowed to the men and they returned it. Monsieur Durand turned away and was soon on shore and out of sight. Dorian looked at William with a slightly perplexed, yet relieved look on his face.

“Well now… I’d like ta stay an’ see what happens ta Turcotte… But I think we have better things ta do with our time, aye Will?”

Both men smiled at each other and chuckled. As they settled, William brought up sending the Lucy to St. Pierre.

“I think at first light it would be best for you to make sail. Those men you leave behind will just have to wait aboard the Watch Dog until you return, or until we join you. Once you make St. Pierre, find out what you can and return by the next days end. By then we should have all supplied loaded, if not sooner. This port has grown stale and uneasy.”

“Aye-aye Cap’n…. agreed… too much trouble has passed in this port fer my liking.”

As he spoke Dorian absentmindedly touched the side of his head which was still slightly tender from the wound he suffered not long after they had arrived here. More was about to be said on the subject, however the form of one Alder Wenge made his presence known. He stood tall and knuckled his forlock to the captains, turning towards Captain Lasseter he spoke.

“A word with you, Sir, if I may…”

Dorian nodded.

“Speak freely Mister Wenge, what news?”

Seven Bells of the First Watch,

3 August, 1704

Larboard Watches on duty