Dorian Lasseter

http://clawsonsrestaurant.com/ Clawsons 1905 Restaurant in Beaufort, NC Great place, casual... Wood floors, bare red brick walls, dark wood booths. I recommend their Seafood Bisque, A must have. And if you're a chocoholic, the Death by Chocolate will do you in for sure.

Oddly, I've taken my shaving kit to every event... It's almost period, I just need to get a proper wooden handled brush to make it right... Although the razor I have is horrible... I need to fine tune the edge several times to get a good shave. I normally use a modern straight razor for a weekly shave. I don't think I'll shave another person though...

As Captain Lasseter finished telling the tale of what he had known of Preston on the Snow in wake of the call of quarter given, he watched as the Ship’s Master became very still in thought and action. The Lucy pitched about, causing the hanging candles to cast strange shadows about the room and across both men’s faces. Even with al that, Dorian noticed something about Preston that had been lacking in the past day. He appeared to be of sound mind again. Dorian also noted that he was dripping wet and surmised that his officer had taken the liberty of a walk on deck in the deluge pouring from the sky above without foul weather gear. Maybe he was not so sound of mind… At that moment Preston licked his lips and drew in a breath, held it a moment before speaking. “If… But they… Dorian… I don’ remember killin’ b’low decks on tha’ ship… I jus’… I’m no rememberin’, but I wouldn’t… not after quarter…” Dorian saw the look of anguish on Preston’s face as he tried to sort out what had happened in his mind. In some way he was actually relieved, as he was quiet afraid that his most trusted officer had gone mad. The Captain watched as his man continued to work through what had happened, in some ways reliving it in his mind and still coming up short. “Preston, ‘s’alright lad… We’ll sort this out in time, not to worry. I’m pleased with… I’m pleased yer feelin’ more yerself now, but I think ye still need ta rest easy… And ye need dry clothes, again… slog ‘em soppin’ bits off an we’ll get ye dry an dressed. Come now, it’ll come back to ya, just need more rest…” Dorian stood again and Preston’s eyes focused on his face. Lasseter gave Preston a side-long smile before walking with slight difficulty to the sideboard and found a large cloth for Preston to use to dry off some. He called out for one of the powder monkeys and young Liam appeared. Dorian sent him to the Master’s cabin to fetch up more clothes for him and Liam was set to task. “Drink up Preston, not th’ time ta get a chill…” Again Dorian smiled some as he held out the cloth to the Ship’s Master.

Excellent adventure planned... Aye, I have a couple... Building some ships and living on them... http://www.colonialnavy.org

Aye! Awesome event! Huzzah to Dutch and all the CSF and Deltaville Museum folks!!! My apologies for the late chime in, we arrived home safe n' sound, are MUCH cleaner now... Tick Count! Got everyone beat... by the end of the event I had 10... Must like imported food... Identified them as brown ticks... little bastards... Mosquitos, mostly bit up my ankles, but not so bad... Wonderful time meeting new folks and seeing old friends! Can't wait for the next one I can make it to!

The patter of rain on the deck above came harder as Dorian made his way aft and the fresh, cool air that it brought made its way below. He took in a lungful and it refreshed and awakened the captain some. Not that it was a long way from the Ship’s master’s cabin to the Ward Room, but long enough that by the time he had reached his destination, Dorian was fully awake and prepared to see what may come of this weather. He stepped through the doorway and into the chamber and noticed right away that Preston was absent from his bed. Dorian paused a moment and considered the worst, that something had happened to the man while he slept, but surely someone would have awakened him for something of that gravity. He headed across the cabin and checked his sea chest, noting that all weapons and such were in place there and in other places around the space. He gathered his foul weather gear as he considered other possibilities of where his Ships Master might be and added to those thoughts of everything else that was unknown to him at this moment on his ship. One pressing matter that would now be delayed was the matter of the funerals of those killed in the recent battle. If the weather kept up through the morning, those poor souls would just have to wait and weather the storm before having their mortal remains given over to the depths and Poseidon's care.

That's really cool! And just for the sake of it... Here's a fellow who it is said beat them Wright Brothers to 'the invention of flight'. Gustave Whitehead beat them by about 2 years... http://gustavewhitehead.org/ Not to ruffle any feathers (heh) but the Wrights visited his shop before they mastered their craft. And the 'first flights' took place in Pittsburgh, PA area... Food for thought...

Cross' new boat.... Sorry mate... I couldn't resist! ;) ;) ;)

Normally, the sound of rainfall would cause a body to relax and sleep easy. Or, if one was fast asleep cause a deeper slumber. Captain Lasseter was in such a deep sleep after so much activity and time awake that even the sounds of labor on deck did not cause him to stir. But somehow the sound of rain on the deck, as subtle as it might seem, did wake him. As the storm made its presence known, Dorian sat up in his hammock. “Rain…” He heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his face with both hands, slowly stood and began to gather his belongings in the dark, reassembling himself as best he could and headed to the wardroom to find his foul weather gear.

http://www.knivesandtools.com/en/pt/-adola-sailors-knife.htm I've found this knife, reputed to be relatively unchanged for centuries... Looks like a common sailors sheath knife to me, alright... Edit: Same knife, more or less... http://www.worldknives.com/products/linder-nautical-sailors-tool-knife-nr-167113-145.html http://www.asmc.de/en/Knives-Tools/Daggers/Sailor-knife-p.html

There are plenty of ships for sale... if you can afford them... Or, build your own... Maybe not quite like what I have in mind with The Colonial Navy http://www.colonialnavy.org A whole fleet of ships...

Just came across this little tid-bit... http://www.thepiratemuseum.com/ Slainte!!!

Somehow, Charlie March had become appointed as a nurse-maid. Not that at other times he had shied away from doctoring crewmen in past battles, but there was a surgeon on board and he had meals to prepare for a hungry crew. He grumbled to himself as he made his rounds of those crew in his care. He tried to not let it get to him as some of the men had succumbed to their wounds and he and the Surgeon had others remove the bodies to be prepared for burial. Eight men laid on the deck of the Lucy now. Sometimes it amazed Charlie how what seemed a simple wound would kill one man, yet not another. And, further more, how some could take so much damage and yet survive. He shook his head as he looked at the foot of James Whiting and noted that his three middle most toes were turning black. Charlie covered James foot again and smiled at him and went off to find Miss O’ Treasaigh to inform her of this.

He softly padded across the deck, making sure to avoid the busiest areas on the ship’s deck so as not to get stepped on. He was still a bit scared from all the commotion that had occurred earlier and as such was also a bit skittish. Pooka jumped sideways when a chest lid was dropped hastily, then dashed to the safety under the ships boat. There he watched for a time, making sure all was safe for him to continue across the deck. The cat watched as the men worked and sweated over parts of the ship and her rig. The smell of fresh paint and varnish, shaven wood, and even death hung about in varying degrees. As a strong scent of death wafted by, Pooka flattened his ears and hunched down. There he stayed hidden until the smell lifted and he slowly, cautiously padded out from under the boat and aft. Up the stairs to the quarterdeck he went and settled himself starboard of the tiller. Here the only smells around were that of whatever blew from the stern, mostly fresh sea air and occasionally a scent from the Ward Room below, and that suited Pooka just fine.

Master Hawkyns, you forgot a rousing game of cabbage-ball as well! I also agree, there's no reason why things should change 'after hours'. I grant the concessions pointed out about the modern 'musts' such as medical items, etc. To point out one event I attended many years ago... it was an ECW event in North Carolina I think... We spent the weekend, from friday night til sunday afternoon in period, in kit, in the cold, mud, etc... It was one of my best memories of reenacting. The only time this changed was when some of us went off site for dinner, in kit as we had no extra clothes. I had a change to go home for sunday, that was it.

Ahhh.... a fine topic... This is all personal opinion, of course... and as you see, Master Hawkyns does what he does first and foremost for himself, and in doing so, does not colour his representation to suit the 'Disney-fied' public. You want immersion in the time? Go to a major historic site, Williamsburg for instance... Or Jamestown... There are folks who work there and 'become' a person of the colonial era. Who will not break character to interact with the public and thus give a truer representation. I can't say that's everyone, but there are those who do, and do it well. My take on things here... I'd like to be able to portray a sailor of the time as best I can. And as so, one who turned to piracy when necessary. A side note, I've always liked this little line; "Are we pirates? Well... First we look to see how many guns they have. If we have more guns then they, we are pirates. If they have more guns than we, we are then but simple merchants." Makes ya think, huh? I do what research I can into all facets of the how and why of the time. I like the seedier side of things. I don't shave myself clean before an event and I don't wear heavy deodorant during it as well. I will wear a period wax cologne at times. I do make one concession, I will wash my shirts and stockings. I don't artificially age my kit. Wash my body at an event? For modern sanitary reasons I will wash my hands after a head call and before eating. Would I like to see more 'realism' at these events/reenactments? To a point... Language... What was offensive then is rather mild by the standards of today. Calling someone a Cur or Vagabond (My apologies Hugh) could end in a fight. Dirtier people would be great. What we view as dirty or clean today is vastly different from then. That's enough for now...

Closing his eyes slowly, Dorian took a moment to clear his mind. No, the ledger needed to be filled out now, for when he did lay down he would be slumbering deeply for as long as possible. Dorian thought back and realized that he had been awake for near two days. No wonder he felt as if he was weighed down with lead. He squeezed his eyes shut hard before opening them again and opened the ledger to the last entry he had scribed. This he read and nodded, remembering the events just past. Finding his pen and inkpot, Dorian began the task of summarizing what had happened since that last entry. He writ of the repairs to the Lucy, the condition of sails and rigging, weather and sea. Another swallow of Madera was had before writing of the crew, who was recovering well, who was not, and who had succumbed to them. It was then that he remembered that he would have several funerals to preside over at some point this day. Again, a heavy weight pressed down on him. Wiping his eyes with his hand, Dorian looked up and noted that Preston had found some peace and was asleep. A smile crossed the Captain’s face at this, followed by a yawn. Dorian quietly stood and stretched, sat gently and took up the pen again. In short order he had finished the entry and stood while the ink was drying. He left the ward room quietly and found the Surgeon, instructing her that she was given leave to come and go without need of permission to enter the quarters. He then found the officers on watch and informed them that if they needed him, he would be in the Ship’s Master’s quarters and to leave the Ward room in peace. Once this was understood, the Captain headed back to the ward room and relieved the space of his hammock and some small items, taking them to Preston’s freshly cleaned quarters and made himself comfortable. The smell of vinegar hung in the air, but not to an unpleasant extreme. Doffing his hat, coat and sword, Dorian stiffly climbed into his hammock and with little pain settled himself and lay for just a moment thinking of what might happen next before he succumbed to exhaustion.

Slainte, Pew! Hmm... you havin' anything ta drink as well?

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!

Aye! Happiest of Birthdays to ye and many more ta come! Huzzah!!!

Some ships to consider... A Sloop-of-War - this is actually a two and some times three masted ship... small enough to have good speed and maneuverability, but big enough to carry good armament. A Brig-Sloop - Looks kind of like a schooner, again two masts with fore and aft rig, plus square sails. Very much like the above Sloop-of-War... Google both types and see what you think.

Here's something interesting... Lead, but not in bars... http://www.qaronline.org/techSeries/QAR-B-08-01.pdf

Oh Preston! Master PEW! Feast yer eyes on this little gem... http://www.aolnews.com/world/article/ernest-shackletons-whiskey-found-buried-near-south-pole/19347440 I'd like to try some of this... Well, a new batch of it.

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