Dorian Lasseter
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Posts posted by Dorian Lasseter
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Cross' new boat....
Sorry mate... I couldn't resist!
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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.
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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
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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...
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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.
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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.
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OK, Michael, why "after hours"? What is magic about the public leaving? I'll be honest, I haven't seen one pirate gathering/festival/reenactment yet that goes 24/7. And that disturbs me. We all talk about our personae, whether it be the purist or the fantasist, but we drop them like dirty socks when the public is gone. If we are so enamoured about what we do, why is it so hard to stay in that persona beyond the public time. Qhite honestly, from other periods that I do, it is after the public, with all its non period clothing and questions, goes home, that we can really get into being who we want to be. Some of the best times I've had have been sitting around the campfire, singing period songs till way past midnight, or arguing period politics until we fall over. And there's nothing like a good old fashioned protestant vs catholic argument in period to give you the feel of a Thirty Years War camp. A tankard of cider, a good pipe, and a good period discussion or song until you crawl off to sleep in your pile of straw is what makes the hobby.
Hawkyns
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.
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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...
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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.
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Slainte, Pew!
Hmm... you havin' anything ta drink as well?
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Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!
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Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!
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Aye!
Happiest of Birthdays to ye and many more ta come!
Huzzah!!!
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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.
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Here's something interesting... Lead, but not in bars...
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Oh Preston!
Master PEW!
Feast yer eyes on this little gem...
I'd like to try some of this...
Well, a new batch of it.
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?????????? 
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Well then my dear man...
Now you MUST retell the tale of OFM!
Since you have lived past your experience...
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Exactly...
Been there, done that...
In many cases you would have both ends of a piece of slowmatch in you linstock lighted, just incase of such a situation...
There have been many occasions where weather conditions caused issue, along with the vent-blast blowing the coal off the end of the match...
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She were a fine Brig... Built strong and fast...
Had fourteen or more great guns of brass mounted...
Not counting the swivels...
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Captain Lasseter had busied himself by preparing some things for Preston’s care. Some blankets were added to the seat of the stern bench along with two ticking pillows at one end. He had briefly exited the room to the deck and retrieved a gun bucket, placing it on the wardroom deck near the pillows. He had stopped to wipe his brow as the heat of the day was further heightened by the humidity. Dorian was about to prop open the side windows when a knock came. Turning to the sound he bade them to come in. Charlie had Preston there, still clothed in his soiled shirt. The Captain drew out a chair for Preston to sit and once he was comfortable had Charlie go fetch clean clothes for the man. Dorian freshened the basin and brought it to the table along with several pieces of cloth. He helped Preston get his shirt off and dropped it in the gun bucket with a wet ‘plop’. Charlie returned with a set of clothing and placed them on the table and was given leave. Soon the Surgeon returned with her pack of medicines and Dorian took the soiled clothing out on deck in the gun bucket. This he sat on deck and took up another gun bucket to replace it with in the wardroom.
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Dorian stood silently for a moment before answering Preston.
“No Lad, not to worry…”
He turned and stepped from the cabin and leaned on the nearest bulkhead.
“Gu sealladh saelbh oirnn…”
Finding the two marines he had left as guards staring at him, the Captain straightened and gave orders.
“Go find Mister Tucker, have him send some men here ta clean up Master Whittin’ferds cabin wi’ mops n’ a mix o’ seawater an’ vinegar… “
Both men, happy to be released from their post made haste from the space below. Dorian headed back into the cabin. He looked at Maeve and did not hesitate.
“We’ll clean him up and put him in my quarters… Have th’ stern bench made up comfortable…”
Turning back to Preston, Captain Lasseter hoped he would understand what was to be done.
“Master Whi… Preston… You are relieved of duty until your health is returned. Until you are declared as such, you will take your ease in the wardroom.”
Not waiting for an answer, Captain Lasseter removed himself from the cabin and with haste headed to the Wardroom. He headed directly for the stern windows and leaned out and down, emptying the contents of his gut into the sea. When there was none left to wretch up, he pulled himself back onto the stern bench for a moment to catch his breath before heading to the basin to clean himself up.
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As Miss Ashcombe went about the cabin, Captain Lasseter stood slowly and walked the handful of paces to the basin she had refreshed with clean water. As he bent closer to cup his hands in the water, the wound across his back along with the other hurts of battle and fatigue made their presence known. Dorian did no more than clench his jaw and bear the pain as he drew the water to his face. The coolness of the water both revived and refreshed him to a degree. After repeating the process several times, he stood and let the water drip off his face back into the basin as he leaned on the sideboard. Dorian let the conversation regarding Preston repeat in his mind, wondering truly what might be the way of things. He could not have his Ships Master return to duty until he was sure of his well being. Another would have to be temporarily appointed until that time, but whom? The Captain could not think clear enough as he had not slept for what felt like a fortnight, but was only closer to two days time. All he wanted was to be able to rest knowing the Lucy was in good hands. A loud knock on the door from the hold shattered his thoughts. Straightening and taking up a towel to wipe his face, Dorian turned to the offending port.
“Enter.”
The door opened to reveal Master Flint. As the Captain was about to scold his officer for disobeying his orders so soon after they were given, Bill spoke gravely.
“Captain, tis Mister Whittingford, ye best come quick.”
Without a word Dorian quickly wiped his face and headed to Preston’s quarters.
wright brothers
in Beyond Pyracy
Posted · Edited by Dorian Lasseter
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...