William Brand

I strongly recommend them as well. I bought a plain, untreated canvas wedge tent from them. It has never leaked or given me any trouble and the construction is very sound. Few tent makers will put as many added features into a simple tent as Red Hawk. Good price. Good product.

Representatives, please tell the members of your crew that the safety meeting is mandatory for anyone participating in combat scenarios, battles, small performances, demos and any other event involving weapons. Please don't wait until PIP to tell them that there will be safety meetings every day. Remind them and now and remind them often that the meetings are mandatory. Repetition breeds understanding. You might even ask people who aren't carrying weapons to be there, because you never know when someone who isn't shooting a gun might remind someone who is what they should and shouldn't do. I'm loathe to admit one of my own failings, but even after attending several safety meetings last year, I still forgot one primary instruction during combat, because I got 'caught up in the moment'. We all need to watch one another. We can't afford to forget anything. Harry has set the time for 9:30 AM following the instruction meetings every day. Start spreading the word. Note: For pirates in the beach encampments, you must remember to leave as much as 30 minutes early in order to walk to the safety meetings in the fort, depending on how fast you can walk. Do not leave the beach at 9:30 to attend a 9:30 meeting. The safety officers should not have to repeat themselves because of stragglers.

A also agree. You should post these comments in the thread about representatives as well, for those people who don't read the Mercury Crew thread.

I vote the nominations cease. I'll put the three of you down as the representatives. Our group is large enough that three of you might be required, so this works out well. It goes without saying that anyone else may join you three if they wish. The meetings aren't mutually exclusive.

Here, here! Many happy returns and a very happy birthday, lad.

I'll send a cardboard cutout of myself for the photo op.

The Making of Tawny: Part Six The next few weeks were a daily nightmare of disillusion. David-Tara's father would not look at him but for stolen glances of horror mixed with shame and revulsion. Every coveted glance he sought from his father came like a blow. Cormac could have done no worse then than to spit vinegar upon him with every look. Each painful and silent interaction killed more of the child David-Tara had been, replacing it with the monster Tawny. David-Tara knew that the fond looks and kindness denied him would be visited upon the head of his new enemy Christopher ever after and he loathed him to a bitterness known by few. Even worse than his father's daily retreat was his mother's constant attention in those following days as she begged his forgiveness, awakened now to the years of poison she had drunk daily with her son. She was ever the anguished penitent of mixed madness, grasping at forgiveness with the right hand while pointing in accusation at all around her with the left. She had become the outward monster of her inward turmoil. She never knew a day unmarked by tears ever after and people retreated from her as they would a leper. David-Tara escaped them both as often as he could, finding some solace in the silence of his own thoughts and in secret places known to him and no one else about the countryside. He was the animal now. He felt that he was forever denied genuine pleasure, company, love, acceptance, and any place at the table of society for years to come. Believing this, he set himself on a path to ruin. It should be mentioned here that Christopher Daniels felt sorry for his cousin and would have befriended him as easily as he had so many others, but he also sensed the venomous hatred within his new cousin-sibling and understood that caution was the order of the day. He recognized that this hatred directed at him might be a kind of jealousy and he had also been privy to the many revelations of his wretched aunt. This only prompted him to a greater kindness, for he was young enough still to see the good before recognizing the bad in people. To his credit, he tried again and again to approach David-Tara on the few occasions that his cousin was about. Every encounter was met with a kind of dark silence and Christopher slowly began to distance himself from his cousin. Then a strange thing happened. One day while Christopher sat studying a large map on the desk of his uncle, David-Tara ventured into the room, and in a manner both shy and seemingly innocent, he invited Christopher to walk with him. Christopher saw it as a break in the clouds and went with David-Tara out of doors at once. At first they said little, as two cousins who barely knew each other would. Had anyone seen them together then they would have noted the familiarity of features in the two contrasting boys. Indeed, side by side they looked like siblings as much as cousins. Christopher enjoyed the walk, thinking himself the better for this opportunity to help his cousin and in the same way, help his loving uncle. He made a few comments on the day and the clear weather. He noted the vastness of the estate itself. He remarked on the fine condition of the many country walls separating one field from another. With each added point of conversation he hoped to work David-Tara from his shell. David-Tara said nothing. His mouth was utterly dry and he had to keep his hands tucked in his waistcoat to hide the shaking. He let Christopher ramble on as much as he might, finding a reason to hate everything his cousin said. Having already determined to murder him, he felt no great compulsion to make conversation. In time they reached the decaying barn where he had first met Brianna. "Brianna." he thought with wonder. That had been her name all along, though he had only ever used it for the purpose of flattering her during their more intimate moments. Her name had meant no more to him than any other words that he used when in her company, but now it seemed very profound, almost distractingly so. Funny that he should really understand her name as it was meant to be, now that he had already killed her. Christopher brought him back from his thoughts. He was talking about the barn now. He commented on the beauty and wonder of the place as boys will often do in old buildings and remote places. He was genuinely pleased to have discovered this new place, with its smells and collapse. He began climbing on everything at once, anxious to see all parts of the barn with a carefree quality that made David-Tara angry. Still, these explorations eventually brought Christopher to the only part of the lofts still intact, the exact place David-Tara had meant for him to go. Here, David-Tara produced a small flask he had stolen from his mother's secret lover. It was filled with a dark brandy of questionable origin and he offered it to Christopher. At first Christopher hesitated, not out of any mistrust for his cousin, but in the cautious way of a boy who doesn't know what to think of drink. He evaluated his age and moral compass, but in the end he was assuaged by the sudden hurt and uncertain look in David-Tara's eyes more than anything else. It was Christopher's natural desire to make everyone happier that was his undoing in the end. He took the flask gratefully and went to his death as Aristotle. David-Tara retreated to a corner as his cousin began to choke, then die. When the throes of death came at the end, he found himself standing over his dying cousin with as much fascination as he had shown watching Brianna bleed out. When Christopher was dead, he went to work undressing him. Then he brought him top the place behind the barn where Brianna lay still. She lay as she had for hours in a pool of her own blood. She was ruined in a way that blasphemed the love she had known for him. He had been as throughly cruel as he had been generous, having destroyed her utterly with many wounding blows. He had been careful to leave the face undamaged, wanting to see how she would look in death. Now her face frowned, a mark of the absolute sadness she had known seconds before the horror and shock of that first attack. The rest of her was a mess of blood and tatters. So utterly was she damaged that there was a kind of macabre telling in it, as if he had enjoyed the savagery more than the mere act of killing. He stood there now, regretting again that he should have damaged her so much, for in this ferocity he had denied himself the opportunity to see his unborn... "No." he said aloud, returning himself to the moment. That door was closed. He had done what he had done and would do so ever after without regret. He returned to his work as it began to rain.

I believe Michael just volunteered.

I highly recommend doing a large group shot immediately following one of the big battles on Saturday. I think we would have had more people under the banner had we done so last year and I kick myself for forgetting to take one.

We need to pick two representatives to go to the daily meetings at the fort for information and instructions, Please see the following thread... http://pyracy.com/index.php?showtopic=13506 I believe that any member of our crew would be well suited for this task, so long as they're willing to shoulder the responsibility.

Aye. Most certainly, aye. Perhaps we can have someone from the Bone Island Buccaneers volunteer specifically to rally the unaffiliated attendees. That way if anyone asks, we know where to send them.

Try some of these... http://www.noquartergiven.net/crews.htm#SOUTH%20WEST http://www.noquartergiven.net/crews.htm#SOUTHEAST

The subject of camp coordination, and specifically delegates of representatives from each camp, has been discussed in more than one thread in this sub-forum, but it needs to be addressed once more in preparation for Pirates in Paradise. Any crew or group camping in or out of the fort should pick a representative to meet with their representatives from other camps each morning and evening to discuss the matters of the day, schedule and any other instructions being sent down from the fort to the re-enactors. This person should be picked by each group and the name of that person should be added to the list here, so that Harry and the other park rangers will no who needs to be contacted for any important information. This person does not have to be the Captain or leader of said group, but it should be someone willing to take on the responsibility of receiving and distributing the information in a timely manner. As I will not be in attendance, someone must be chosen from the Mercury crew to take my place in this regard. Once chosen, these representatives, both inside and outside the fort, must decide on a time and location to meet daily for the purpose of distributing information, i.e. weapons inspections, battle times, parade schedules, etc. You may choose to call this meeting whatever you wish...Officer's muster...Meeting before the Mast...what have you. This meeting should be consistent and should be followed by the distribution of information to your respective crews and groups. Please have a pen and paper or some other appropriate period marking instrument for taking notes, so that no information is mislaid or misunderstood. It would also be beneficial to have several runners for the overall encampments to run messages at a moment's notice. Also, you might consider the exchange of cell phone numbers from the various crew representatives as well as the park rangers for the purpose of maintaining communication. Please be certain to make yourselves known to one another upon arrival and avail yourself of all park regulations and special permissions granted to visitors and campers. The strong working relationship that we have worked so hard to establish must be nurtured and maintained year to year for the benefit of future participants. The List: The Archangel - (1720): Captain Sterling M.A.d'Dogge The Blackheart crewe - Port Royal (1681): Hurricane Diosa (aka Mary Read) - 321-537-6874 The Cursed Few: Crew of the Fairge lolair: Callenish Gunner - 814-221-5327 or 5326 The Mercury - (1720): Captain Jim Mission Michael The Crewe of the Sacred Heart: Quartermaster Fayma Callahan - 812-290-6056 South Florida Pirates: Capt. Gunn - 954-557-8857 Unaffiliated pirates or groups which are not camping in the park should see Quartermaster Nigel of the Bone Island Buccaneers for instructions and information.

We were allowed more than one fire, but we had to clear them before hand. We intended to make one in the Mercury camp, but as we kept gravitating to the other fire pit, a second seemed less important. Also, it was easier to maintain and regulate, so the limit of fires is probably a good idea. I hate not being there this year. I swear that he asked us not to have a second fire ...well then ...that settles that. He was 'cautious' on the matter, but we made it easier by not having the second one, though if memory serves, Iron Jon and Paula had a fire as well.

We were allowed more than one fire, but we had to clear them before hand. We intended to make one in the Mercury camp, but as we kept gravitating to the other fire pit, a second seemed less important. Also, it was easier to maintain and regulate, so the limit of fires is probably a good idea. I hate not being there this year.

Tonight's dessert is a chocolate volcano...

A cocked hat. A good reputation and the respect of your fellows. A sailor's knife.

Cider is up!

The Making of Tawny: Part Five David-Tara saved some coin and even stole a little as he set out on his first errand of discovery into pleasures of the flesh and what he thought of as his search for private power. He took this gathered coin and found himself a girl. She was of similar age emotionally, but three years his senior. She was naive but ambitious enough to favor opportunity over the taboos of the day or the morality of the neighboring religions. When David-Tara approached her with his offer it seemed on the surface, practical, if not a little bit unusual. "Teach me the pleasures of the flesh." he had said, almost dispassionately and in a place public enough that she had laughed aloud, mostly from surprise before clapping a hand over her mouth. She alone had heard this proposition, but the laugh had drawn enough attention to propel her on to more private climes with David following after. When they were in a place more private, David-Tara proffered the money again and made the same direct request. It was as shocking a thing as she had ever known and in the end, it was the shock alone which swayed her when nothing else would have. They retired to a place of privacy suggested by him. It was one of three barns which bordered his father's widening estate. It was a lovely place in its decline, a barn used only for the storage of hay and often to the neglect of the hay and the barn itself. It had an earthy smell of decay and new growth. It was warmed enough on the sunny side to be comfortable, but chill enough within to remain starkly real. They stood in the open door of the place, not hand in hand as lovers, but side by side like siblings or strangers, and a long silence followed. She didn't know what to say to him and when the silence continued to linger, neither knowing what to do, David-Tara began to undress. The girl, her name never asked for nor given, was awakened to her situation, suspecting in that moment that she should not be paid for this secret act and even uncertain that she should be apart of it at all. David -Tara reassured her that the money was hers and more would be had in the future for the asking if she would remain available to him. It was neither a sweet nor tender reassurance, but it was more money than she might ever know and as his face and mannerisms were not unpleasant, she accepted. "I'm a virgin." she offered at the last, not knowing if it mattered or not to this alien boy, and wondered silently if she had said it as a defense against what was to come. He smiled a smile then that she couldn't understand, for while it appeared to be simple it crossed his face in a tremulous way that was unsettling. "Then I shall owe you more than I have brought with me." he returned, and he handed her all the coin he had. The next hour or more played out as any scene of young and awkward love might. David -Tara expressed seemingly genuine declarations about her beauty and the natural surprise about the nature of the delights found in the moment. For her part, she was swept away in the bizarre enchantment of that very strange afternoon. He took every touch as it was offered and gave as much as he received, anxious to know all at once. She found his passion and attention enthralling and couldn't be certain if she would have preferred the experience with or without the eminent payment to come. In the end it was all it might have been for any two young lovers. Months passed in this way, the two of them meeting in secret. The first few visits were wonderful, at least in her eyes, but they became strange and she found too soon that she was jealous of him for reasons she couldn't name. While she learned to need him and want him in a way that was very nearly love, he became quiet and distant both during and after every act. Unknown to her, David-Tara had moved beyond her almost at once, propositioning not one, but several more girls of various ages and descriptions. He was kind to some and indifferent to others. He travelled far afield, going on foot to places of a surprising distance, all for the sake of understanding. Each of them were somehow assured that they and they alone were the object of his strange affections and generous coffers. He took steps to make them believe so. David-Tara though of them as his own, almost like a harem of girls naive to all but him. Harem was not the word he used for them, and no word might correctly define how he thought of them, though the word cattle came disturbingly close. Playthings might also be applied to his concept of them, but even this word failed to meet the demands of his unusual perspective. Whatever they might be, they loved him each in their own way, never to know the same from him. Over time, the exchange of payment for intimacy ceased. During this time David-Tara practiced his lies and use of charms and language. He supplanted his gifts of gold with words and letters, bringing each girl to his will by the execution of elaborate lies. It was not enough that they loved him, he wanted to own them body and soul as his mother had owned him. It became such an obsession that even he was unaware of it, propelled by the miasma of his awful childhood. It might have been enough for him given time. He might have even moved beyond it all over the course of his life. There was a sad sort of cathartic escape in each rendezvous and given time, he would have been the better for it, thought at the expense of many. None of that mattered after the arrival of Christopher Daniels. Christopher was a nephew of Cormac. He was older than David-Tara by a year and almost a foot taller. Like David-Tara, Christopher was fair, but more than this, Christopher was as well made in person and appearance as David-Tara was broken. He was charming to a fault, though fault could not be applied to the genuine way he won people over. He had a knack for befriending both young and old around him, a gift which drew all to his favor. Not only was it a gravity unto itself, but Christopher's charm was completely free of guile or selfish compulsion. People just loved him at once. It was easy to love him. David-Tara hated him almost immediately. Christopher's parents had perished in a fire, leaving him an only child. Cormac took to him, both as a devoted father figure for his orphaned nephew, an arbiter of his nephew's smaller, but profound inheritance, but also because he found in Christopher those traits that his own son seemed to lack. Cormac loved the boy in the grief of sister and brother-in-laws death, as much as a father might a son, but more so. It was as if Cormac had returned to that pride and love he had known only for David when he was first born. David-Tara was not blind to this sudden gravitation, and while he had always been estranged to his father in many ways, it sparked a jealousy he couldn't give name to. It flared almost at once into a flame of white hot hatred. Within a few short weeks it ignited a fire within him that began to eclipse all else. It overshadowed his uncanny adventures into the countryside. Adventures that even Christopher and Cormac might have envied for their pleasure and easy acquirement. It eclipsed his waning interest in animal experiments and the functions of life and death. It utterly buried his fascination for his mother's escapades and made any affection with his willing consorts bitter. In short, it was a hatred which fed upon him, raised up from some dark, lonely place left over from his younger soul. If this were not enough, Aingeal had christopher too, but more for Cormac's love of him over her own son. She almost saw her work in David-Tara undone and decided there and then to reveal all. One night over dinner and in the company of many, she professed all of her misdeeds against their only child in the vain hope of wounding Cormac and humiliating him before others. The horrid revelations of David-Tara's upbringing brought into light without regard for David-Tara himself and in so naked a fashion destroyed any natural affection that had ever existed between Cormac and his son and upset the world David -Tara knew forever. Any pity that Cormac might have felt for his own son was lost in the fury at Aingeal for her actions, the embarrassment of the moment and the repulsion for what David-Tara had and might yet become. The sudden and utter betrayal of his mother and the emotional disinheritance of his father in that moment shattered all the fragile goodness that David-Tara had left in him. Added to this came the news that not one, but two of those lovely creatures he kept for himself were pregnant. He had escaped the nightmare of his home and family to find some comfort in the pleasure of his secret girls only to learn as he flew from one to another that each of them carried his child within them. He fled from the arms of the first only to be greeted by the same news in the arms of the second. One proud, horrifying announcement followed by a another. He was too shocked to seek out any of the others after for fear that all of them would be with child. His children. Perhaps his unnatural children. It was all too much. David-Tara broke.

Aye, stuffed french toast, fruit, ham and sausage links.

August 5, 1704 - Aboard a French bateau bound for shore William explained the matter of the found man to Miss Smith just before entering the small boat with her. He took his seat at the bow with a mix of dread, anticipation and urgency. Too many things were happening at once, not least among them the disappearance of his men, the flight of Den Oven and the Spanish merchant vessel which would soon be watching for their return. Tudor was quiet, and whether it was from similar thoughts or others, William could not tell. William would have found any conversation difficult anyway amidst his own distractions, his thoughts turning from what he knew to what he didn't and then traveling to absurd climes. "Mayhaps a Tawny sightin' sah?" Preston had suggested at the mention of the discovered man ashore. For himself, William had immediately thought of Joshua Wellings, so the idea that the man in question was their escaped English prisoner seemed preposterous at the time. Now, in the boat, he considered on the idea and wondered if the stars were not aligned against them in recent days. "Think you that Tawny could have survived his damaging departure from the 'Dog, Miss Smith?" William asked at once, bringing her from her thoughts. Her face changed more than once, but most of her expression was incredulous. "Treasure is a good shot and had the advantage of height...if not light." She shook her head for a moment. "I should think not, Sah. More than likely, this man is a stranger and of no importance to us and ours." She seemed finished on the matter, then added, "Of course, it might be..." "Wellings." William finished. "Aye, Sah." "But not Ajayi." William added. "No, Sah." They both had the same thought then. Had the beaten man been a dark man, the letter should have said such, so the matter of Ajayi's absence remained. "If it be Wellings, let the letter be...exaggerated." William said aloud, and she nodded, though neither of them set their hopes very high. "And if it be our prisoner of before, let his condition be whatever it may...that we might do with him as we may." "A cudgel and a shallow grave." Tudor said simply, and if it seemed like cold words coming from a woman, it didn't show in her face. William nodded, for there was a pragmatism in the death of mad dogs and nothing more was said on the matter. The conversation ended as quietly as the arrival on shore with nothing but splashes and the stowing of oars.

Emily Dickinson came to mind when I learned of your loss. Perhaps she is too remorse for this moment, but I find a kind of sad beauty in her work that expresses some of what I felt at the news. My condolences and my high hopes that all will be well with you and yours. Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen -- A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs -- between -- For Stranger -- Strangers do not mourn -- There be Immortal friends Whom Death see first -- 'tis news of this That paralyze Ourselves Who, vital only to Our Thought -- Such Presence bear away In dying -- 'tis as if Our Souls Absconded -- suddenly -- -Emily Dickinson

You must be eating very well to use the word 'again' when discussing meat of this kind. Now what to have for breakfast...?

Tonight's special is meat... You leave for a few days and the place becomes a morgue.

Undertow.