Bloody Bill Flint

Thankee Capt, the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

Indeed, it's good to be back. Does Capt Brand still frequent this pub?

Ahoy. Some of you know me, most probably don't. It's been years, but at last I've found my way back to home port. Cheers.

Beautiful, just beautiful

I admit it gives me a chuckle to picture William: knife betwixt his teeth, M4 in hand, and an assault pack full of tactical bacon.

The ships guns roared again, but this time they were answered.

Those who had thrown their weapons to the deck now retrieved them and regarded the lone Frenchman with blood thirsty smiles.

Suddenly, all Hell issued forth from the ship's gun deck and tore into the approaching Frenchmen.

"Bill Flint's the Devil 'imself an' he's sent this squall ta send us to the bottom!" Jonas McCormick exhorted his nearby mates.

"Down below laughing at us he is" someone else agreed

" 'S not natural him up and about like he is" said a third

Suddenly Jonas was struck with inspiration.

"Fetch Flint to the deck, tell him the Cap'n wants to see him". Jonas smiled

"Wot's in yer head?" one of the men asked.

"I was just thinking, wouldn't it be a cryin' shame if the good Master-a'-Arms were swept over the side in this blow?"

"Aye that it would"

and McCormicks smile spread among them.

"Seulement pour ces deux mes amis, tous vont d'autre selon le projet. " the strange man who seemed to be leading the mutiny replied.

Fletcher and Thompson were seized, bound and thrown to the deck as a chuckle went up from the mob.

Happy Birthday ladies

Belhaven Draught

"What the Devil is going on here?" Thompson demanded

Hudless and McCormick saw opportunity in the coming storm and the idea was quickly planted amongst the crew that the squall was somehow connected with the Master-At-Arms and the devil he supposedly harbored within his flesh.

Fletcher frantically tried to stuff his kerchief into the bleeding shoulder wound, then looked to where the shot had come from, "Who the hell are you?"

The man stepped from the shadows, "Let's just say I have a certain interest in the goings on of this ship, eh?"

Silence fell across the deck save for the low rumble of thunder and a sudden musket report from the fo'c'stle.

Fletcher crumpled to the deck, there was an ugly ripple of laughter through the mob and they began to close in on the hapless officer.

The lieutenant grabbed Halward's arm quickly, turned his wrist and plunged the dagger deeply into Halward's thigh.

Halward howled in pain and backhanded Thompson sending the smaller man sprawling to the deck.

Shana...like banana

know this, and yet ... always say Shay-na, like Rain-a.

So, kick me ...

"Now there is one thing every girl in the whole world whose name is Shana has in common with each other - we all hate the name Shawna. And we really hate when people call us Shawna. Remember it's Shana banana not Shawna banawna."

Alexander from the Greek for "Defender of Man".Etymologically, the name is derived from Αλέξανδρος Aléxandros, which is a compound of the Greek verb ἀλέξω (alexō) "protector of men", "to push back", "to hold off" and the noun ἀνδρός (andros), genitive of ἀνήρ (anēr) "man". It is an example of the widespread motif of Greek (or Indo-European more generally) names expressing "battle-prowess", in this case the ability to withstand or push back an enemy battle line. Appropriate seeing as I'm a Soldier just like my namesake.

Fletcher scrambled to quickly reload, as the goat jumped over Bobstay and ran to the foredeck, hopping over dead bodies, and slipping in blood as it went.

The goat's panicked flight caught Halward's attention just long enough.

Thompson also noted that small powder keg knowing its worth but Halward, although weak and injured, kept him in check with his steel against the lieutenants throat. The was a scrape of flint, and the sound of thunder leaving Bobstay on the deck clutching his thigh.

It was a small keg of gunpowder, brought on deck before the battle which left so many dead had started. Halward caught his glance and guffawed, "Surely ye can't be serious mate, if you touch off that powder you'n the good Lieutenant die with us!"

Fletcher, who had been hiding behind the capstan, finally stood up, pointing his pistol at the mutineers, "This evens the odds a bit, don't it gents?" "Don't be fookin' stupid Fletcher, yer out manned, outgunned an'out classed." Bobstay growled.

Bloody Sam Rackham and William Red Wake would make fine additions. Aye.

"May those who curse days curse that day, those who are ready to rouse Leviathan."