Dorian Lasseter
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Posts posted by Dorian Lasseter
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The Captain of the Lucy contemplated a moment before turning back and putting the glass to his eye. He caught sight of the ships lanterns and their brightness was enough to make out a couple of details. A brig or snow, no flag of nation flying, most of her canvas set. He couldn’t see if she had gunports, and if she did, none were open. Dorian slowly lowered the glass and put a hand on the rail, slowly drumming his fingers on it.
“Could very well be a merchant brig… can’t tell th’ cut o’ her jib in the dark an’ she ain’t flyin’ colours… Mayhaps you c’n see if she has gunports, or mebee she’ll get closer… If she does start runnin down on us, we’ll clear fer action – quietly as we can… Also drop some canvas an’ let the Navarra n’ Watch Dog close in so we’ll be quite a deterrent. Much as it would be grand ta run a British merchant down, our first order is ta protect th’ Navarra…”
He held the glass out to Preston so that he might have a look and possibly express his opinion.
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The meal finished, Captain Lasseter had leaned back in his chair and smiled at the calmness. The thought of a peaceful voyage to Trinidad crept into his mind. At the thought he felt a twinge and was about to set it right by knocking thrice on the table when a cry was heard from the lookout of a sail being sighted.
“Damn it all ta… My apologies… “
Dorian quickly stood and took up his coat, hat, and arms that had been laid aside and just as quickly left his Steward in the Ward Room and was on deck. He was straightening his coat as he stepped upon the Holy Ground and came to face Mister Brisbane.
“Where away is the ship that’s been sighted?”
Nigel had been saluting and made one fluid motion from knuckling his brow to pointing where the lookout had signaled. As Dorian took up the glass, Master Whittingford climbed the stair to his side. Without looking at him, the Captain addressed the Ships Master.
“Preston… what d’ye make of it?”
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Tobacco Coast: A Maritime History of Chesapeake Bay in the Colonial Era
by Arthur Pierce Middleton
http://www.amazon.com/Tobacco-Coast-Chesapeake-Paperback-Bookshelf/dp/0801825342
Quite informative and not a dry read.
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Here's a place all the SteamPunk folks need to move to;
Steamtown, PA
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steamtown_National_Historic_Site
Granted, it's centered around the railroads, but... imagine a conversation at an event...
"Hello there fellow Steampunker, where are you from?"
"Steamtown..."
"Haha! that's great! really, where are you from?"
"Uh, really.... Steamtown, PA..."
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Michael,
You guys did a great job on the camp table! Excellent!!!
Something to add, the unit I'm attached to for F&I sets up a Tavern at events and use those exact tables and benches.
As beautiful as yours is being stained and varnished, it would be more appropriate, or I should say easier/cheaper/more common for such to be painted.
More permanent or higher class furniture is varnished and such for the upper class.
Here's an image of the Tavern at Fort Niagara, you can see some of the tables/benches...
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Wardroom of the Lucy
His smile faded some when his Steward declared his life at sea as ‘most fortunate’, for she did not know of the hardships he had faced under the rule of Old England. Dorian sniffed sharply and drank from his glass, savouring the drink for a time before swallowing slowly.
“Life at sea for me has been… adventurous… aye, at times fortunate, and other times quite dark… And you will indeed learn more than just the musket while we sail… Such as yer duty as Steward aboard a fighting ship… and in yer spare time, whenever that might be, most anything else that might be available… “
Captain Lasseter turned to his meal, enjoying the sharpness of some cheese that complimented the wine. He noticed she had not yet taken up her spoon, so prompted her with more talk.
“Enjoy th’ fresh victuals while ye can… in a fortnight’s time this simple stew will be remembered as fare served in the best Inn.”
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Standing back and admiring a just finished project, well done...
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I'll go to the eastern crew... if we can communicate well enough, find out their story and maybe we can get it together, see what we can do to get off the island, maybe on a captured ship. Feed them if there's time so we're all strong enough to fight if needed.
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Mostly finished...
Need to figure out a lock, it originally had a half mortise lock... if I can find a good one for a reasonable sum with a proper looking key...
Still might paint the inside of the lid and might touch up some spots inside with varnish.
Here's my inspiration;
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Wardroom of the Lucy
The Captain was slightly taken aback by her question. He pursed his lips and tried to hold back a grin but failed and laughed aloud.
“Pardon my outburst… I… Oh my… I was not schooled formally as one might think… Oh, where to start…
Most of my learning has been aboard ships…. Many on long journeys with time to waste between work, if you can believe that… And I was lucky enough ta have those whom I would call scholars in my midst. I learned much from those around me…”
He stopped to refill their glasses before continuing.
“I was drawn into the English sea forces and at one point was under a king of men disguised as a captain… He valued me for my skills and even added to my ‘schooling’. I’ve learned quite a lot on my own time. So, my formal schooling was in shipyards as a lad, and on shipboard as a young man… So… my schooling was neither in England nor France… but close by in the waters that surround…”
Dorian took another drink of the wine appreciatively and smiled a crooked smile at his Steward, wondering what she now thought of her Captain.
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“Aye… the wine… bottled in 1694 in Medoc, I believe that’s what th’ chandler said from whence I bought it…”
Dorian took another taste and savoured the flavour, then gave a short laugh.
“I sound like some highbourne git, as if I know so much about such things… Am I correct to remember that you lived on one of th’ plantations on Martinique? How was the wine cellar of your… Uncle?”
He returned to his meal and let the question hang in the air for Miss Ashcombe to answer.
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So, I sat back and watched them... Since I got the impression they are slavers, I let them go on their way, none the wiser...
Two ships heading for my wee island, eh?
I feel the same as Pew, I'll take my chances with the ship coming from the east...
Watch 'em well and if they're any signs of the Dutch Flag, I'll make my way to see about the Western ship, again being very wary...
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Dorian had watched his Steward set out the evening fare for him and noted her flushed skin and slightly damp hair. The weather was fair and the wind fine, so he stepped over to the table and reached above, unsecuring the skylight and propping it up some three inches. Turning from the table and to the sternlights, he propped the cornermost ones open several inches as well, allowing a gentle breeze. The meal smelled hearty and his stomach rumbled in anticipation of being filled. He was about to sit, but noticed Jenny stood as a servant waiting for their master to dismiss them. This would not due.
“Miss Ashcombe… I do my best to run a tight ship, to a point… Please sit…”
She hesitated, and Dorian held out a hand indicating a chair at the table. Jenny sat demurely with her hands in her lap, not knowing what it was he wanted of her. Her eyes widened when he sat in his chair and poured a glass of wine, setting it in front of her.
“A tight ship, but not a slave ship… You’ve not told me much of yer past, but I feel you were much a servant to a not so kind master? I’ll not have that… Aye, you are positioned as my Steward, which could be seen as a servant… I will give you orders and expect you to do certain duties, but not ta be one who hovers in th’ background, cleaning up in my wake.
If you so wish I would be pleased if you would share the meal at my table…”
Dorian poured himself a glass and held it in such a way as to prompt her to take up her own, to which he gentle touched his to hers and nodded but once before sampling the French vintage.
“Hmm…. 1694 was a good year…”
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I propose we all raise a glass to him...
The Man...
The Myth...
The Legend...
Errol Flynn...
Some Jamesons will be had in his memory this eve.
Slainte!!!
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Didi a quick poke about online... didn't come up with anything, Snopes.com as well...
If there is any truth to this, I agree dangerous as hell...
The moral standards of today are based on what history has taught us.
History is both positive and negative, can't have one without the other.
The hard part is having people learn it from a third person perspective... detached in such a way as to not learn that X people did this injustice to Y people and hold a grudge or even hate the X people today for something that was done in the past.
"Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it." George Santayana
"What we do about history matters. The often repeated saying that those who forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them has a lot of truth in it. But what are 'the lessons of history'? The very attempt at definition furnishes ground for new conflicts. History is not a recipe book; past events are never replicated in the present in quite the same way. Historical events are infinitely variable and their interpretations are a constantly shifting process. There are no certainties to be found in the past." Gerda Lerner
"We can learn from history how past generations thought and acted, how they responded to the demands of their time and how they solved their problems. We can learn by analogy, not by example, for our circumstances will always be different than theirs were. The main thing history can teach us is that human actions have consequences and that certain choices, once made, cannot be undone. They foreclose the possibility of making other choices and thus they determine future events." Gerda Lerner
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Captain Lasseter smiled and looked to his Steward.
“You read well?”
She smiled and nodded at his question and his smile grew some as he took a couple steps to his sea chest, opened it and removed three smallish tomes. He looked at their spines and selected one, putting the others back. He shut his chest and turned to her, offering the book.
“Chaucer… His tales of Canterbury… Yours to read in idle times if you wish, but I warn you… he can be quite… bawdy on occasion… “
As she contemplated what he said, the ship’s bell rung out, noting the end of the first and beginning of the second dog watch. Officers called out orders and men traded idleness for duties, and others the opposite.
Second Dogwatch begins
Starboard Watches now on duty
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Been following this thread for awhile...
Just some observations...
I come at this from a reenactor's viewpoint, so take it as yo will...
Is your kit a costume or normal clothes? Meaning is this something you 'get into' to entertain others and yourself or is what you 'put on' to be a person of the age?
If you have a costume and add a new piece to replace a piece that was lost/broken/worn out and have to age it to fit in... I'll go with that.
But, if your reenacting you have no need to artificially age anything. Back 'in the day' as it happens now, things wear out and are replaced to get worn out in time. Even if portraying an 'old salt', that old salt still gets new clothing every so often. There are occasions when a crew was on a long journey they wore their clothes til they literally disintegrated, getting a new wardrobe in the next port if possible. And when shipboard, you don't have the time to worry about getting dirty or fitting in with the seasoned crew, the dirt and all will happen soon enough!
As to smell, body odor, etc.
We are so screwed up these days in our modern world. Tarting ourselves up with cologne and perfume to a point where anyone with any breathing disorder has a hard time breathing around others is ridiculous. Within the GAOP there was plenty of that used to cover up 'mal-air', however it would be your upper class who could afford it. The cheaper way for a woman to have a pleasant scent around her was with a cloven fruit - a lemon, orange, etc, with cloves dotting the skin. I can't say for sure, but probably your foppish men had the same.
Us working stiffs, well, you smelled how you smelled... I'm not saying to do it right, don't bathe for a week, but lay off on the heavy scents. Use a non deodorant soap, find a deodorant that's of a 'period' scent. (Can't think of anything except for sandalwood at the moment) You could go exotic and find a heavier scent like Amber or a musk from the far east... as you just 'did some business' with a merchant from India (wink-wink)
Take it as you will...
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GreyDog, yer too damned funny!
Alright....
If I'd a gone huntin' fer that boar, I'd have been prepared I'd think. I had some spears and a musket, and an axe... and a rapier... not that the rapier would have done much good on such a beast.
As you have it, I'd either take two wounds or I loose my dog and take one wound, which means I have bacon and dog for a meal.... (Dog is a fine meal ya know...
)As for wounds... lots of time seems ta pass between things... wouldn't all these wounds heal in that time?
So, there be a dozen Dutchies on my beach, eh?
I'll be wary an' watch them for a time... if they seem friendly enough and not acting suspiciously, (I assume they're after fresh water?) When they're look like they're ready to leave and haven't discovered me, I'll make myself known to them, no-threatteningly. (How could one person be a threat to twelve o' them?) Why wait til they're done? Well, I'd think they'd be tired out from whatever work they just finished, so mot so 'jumpy'...
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I'm with Patrick on this one, as I have a musket or pistol.... Bang! mmmmmmm Bacon!
Or;
As I have an axe, I'd make up some crude spears to spear the beast... come to think of it... Make a spear, attach musket or pistol to it... Spear the beast, shoot the beast with attached firelock...
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Belowdecks in the berth space Harold Press sat with his back against one of the starboard ribs of the ship. He chewed on a sliver of wood that he had removed from a piece he was whittling on. He’d seen what mayhem had been created by Mister Hudless, and could have told the officers the meat of it. But that was not his place to do so. The men involved would sort it out one way or another without involving the hierarchy of the ship’s command. This was the way of it since man took to the seas, on a ship of any nations military down to the lowly fishing boat or merchant. Harold shifted the sliver to his other cheek and thumbed the edge of his folding knife before working the blade into the wood in his other hand, removing material to create a form within.
Three Bells of the First Dog Watch
Larboard Watch on Duty
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This one is way out of period, but really cool...
http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/sh-usn/...-c/congr-sb.htm
And this is just for fun...
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Captain Lasseter laid the open ledger on the table and slowly sat in his chair. He read the fine hand of Adam again, and was appreciative of not only the passage writ but also the handwriting. The man possessed an excellent skill, one any clark would be envious of. He slowly picked up his pipe and contemplated it a moment before speaking.
“What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord; 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him… Well put Countess…”
Dorian stood and looked at Miss Ashcombe.
“Th’ trials n’ tribulations of life at sea… especially when you have such a mix o’ crew as we do in this ship… when duty calls, most ev’ry man-jack does wot’s expected… but idle times, idle times allows fer differences an’ cause one ta have need ta do something… anything ta occupy the idle time… “
He turned and walked to the stern windows, stared out at the Lucy’s wake and those who followed it and spoke to the air.
“Do some good deeds so that the devil, who is our enemy, will not find you unoccupied. For the devil does not take easily into his work those whom he finds occupied in good… Take that as you will…”
The Watch Dog
in Fiction
Posted
“Aye Lad… drop some canvas… we’ll slide astern an’ let th’ others close in… no need ta cause alarm just yet…”
Dorian paced to the sternpost and looked across the waters to the Navarra and Watch Dog as orders were carried out to dowse some sails, slowing their forward progress to Trinidad. He looked to the unknown ship and shook his head slowly at it.
"Three things it is best to avoid: a strange dog, a flood, and a man who thinks he is wise…”