William Brand

If anyone would like hot chocolate I meant to make enough to last the winter.

Disenchanted. Frustrated. Circumvented. Stymied. Flummoxed. And the word of the day...chapfallen: [chop-faw-luhn, chap-] adj. - dispirited; chagrined; dejected.

A spanking...? I didn't take the picture.

August 3, 1704 - Aboard the Watch Dog William woke at eight bells of the Mid Watch and was glad of it. The chair he had dozed in was not comfortable, and it took him a moment to evolve from a hunchback to an upright man as he made his way to the officer's head. The light which came in at the windows there showed little of the Cul du Sac Royal apart from the few bobbing shadows of neighboring vessels. Only a handful of lights dotted the shore like pin pricks and as William passed most of his toasts from the day before, he was glad he had taken the time to drink water by the gallon. Up above, Jim Warren took the quarterdeck over once more, allowing Tudor Smith to go happily down to her hammock, but not before she stopped at the galley and filled a heavy tray for the Captain. She was careful to forget the tea and mindful to add those preserves which had come aboard the Watch Dog only yesterday. She had traded some textiles of the Maastricht for them, knowing Lazarus would find them a welcome surprise once he returned to the ship. While she was at work, the fore watch of the Starboard Watches relieved the aft watch in turn. Sleepy sailors replaced sleepy sailors, some waking and some off to rest. All aboard the Watch dog there was a quiet revolution as some came up and some went below. Back in the ward room, William was just slipping into his coat to stave off the cool of the morning, when Tudor came in and deposited the tray before him. He smiled and welcomed her as he retrieved the ship's ledgers from the stern bench. He spied the marmalade and the fresh biscuits and nodded his approval. "You did good service yesterday, Miss Smith." "Thank you, Sah." "And Mister Badger also. Fine service." "Thank you, Sah." She repeated, stifling a yawn behind one hand. William took a seat and offered her fare, but she politely declined, sitting down beside him. He went to eat, but stopped instead to check the tallies she had made in the ledgers. He admired her penmanship and said as much, before reading the marked amounts aloud. Then he made a quick calculation, based on her shares and fetched sufficient coin to pay her what was due to her. To this sum he added her shares earned from all of the other sales and transfers of goods. "Thank you, Sah." she said a third time, but with an added enthusiasm that she made no attempt to hide. "Your earnings, Miss Smith. Not generosity." She smiled at this and William suddenly looked distracted. "However..." He began, patting the pockets of his coat until he discovered a small parcel hidden in one of the pockets. When he brought it out, it was little more than a single piece of paper folded gentle about two delicate baubles. He placed them before her. "That is generosity. Or rather, it is a gift. They were among the Ilex goods." William explained, then his face became somewhat apologetic. "They aren't real, but they have a quality to them I thought you might like. Better that they go to you than the poor price they might fetch, though you are welcome to sell them if you wish." Tudor picked them up, and indeed she seemed to notice right away that they were not so valuable as they had first appeared. Still, she looked happy to have them. She yawned again even as she said, "I like them. Thank you, Captain." "Thank you, Miss Smith. You may retire...but please ask Mister Warren to join me here." "Aye, Sah." First bell of the Morning Watch ~Starboard Watches on Duty~

Green underthings. What all of the fashionable pirates are wearing these days... Must...reach...rum...

10. You walk up to the checkout line and wonder what the clerk will take in trade for a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread. 9. You use 'Aye' instead of 'Yes', but more importantly, you don't care that people find it odd. 8. You have to walk around your house at least five times on your way to the privy, because it seems too close otherwise. 7. You actually say 'privy'. 6. Rather than preparing for Christmas, you are getting ready for PIP in 2008 and Christmas be damned. 5. Despite your open disregard for Christmas, you've mentioned that you've placed a Queen Anne pistol on your wish list. 4. You are openly disgusted by the fact that your mother has no idea what a Queen Anne pistol is and you give her no less than seven links online where she can buy one. 3. While still openly disregarding Christmas on some levels, you consider hiring Cascabel to play Santa at your company Christmas party along with any number of pirates to be elves. 2. You have to explain to your boss that Cascabel is just a persona name taken from the portion of a muzzle loading cannon consisting of the knob, the neck, the filet (if present), and the base of the breech, not the small, round, hot chilli pepper that is prized for the hot, burning sensation that it produces in the mouth when consumed. 1. Then you have to explain what a persona is, which draws a small crowd and leads to an explanation of re-enacting, which leads to pictures, which leads to getting people registered on the pub, which leads to recruiting ten more people for PIP next year, which leads to world domination and so forth...

10. You are thereafter a bonafide cripple. 9. Biscuits not cooked on a sword seem second rate. 8. Your day is not complete unless you've seen a man in a dress. 7. You forget to shower for days on end without a care. 6. You've pondered the idea of using electricity only for internet access, so you can burn a candle or two. 5. You have this persistant, nagging feeling that you're late to a safety meeting all day long. 4. You put rocks in your bed to make it more comfortable. 3. You find your medical practitioner at home less interesting, because he never threatens to give you mercury poisoning. 2. You stand in the shower fully clothed to eat your oatmeal. 1. You were using the phrase "Next year at PIP..." only ten minutes into this year's PIP, and have used it ever after.

Come now...he has a biting stick. I've seen the teeth marks.

August 3, 1704 - The docks of St. Louis The boy continued to pat his pocket in an absent minded fashion as he imagined the coins which might be added to it by his service. He was bothered to think how long he would have to wait there, but in truth, the boy did not have to wait very long at all. Events unfolded about him almost at once. He was not there ten minutes before his agitation was replaced with genuine concern for his own well being, for he had given little thought to the coin in his pocket, other than the way it might serve him. He had never considered what harm it might do him to have laden pockets on the docks at midnight, no matter how few coins he carried. Then the men loomed before him. The boy got up. The men pushed him down again. The boy prepared himself for the worst, but they were not bad men, per se. They were not possessed of any great evil. They were not even thieves, by definition. They were every day men of the poorer variety. The men who work the docks, securing only one day's work at a time, often with a new employer from one day to the next. The rats among the docks. The wheels of the working class. Hungry men who will take to eat when there is no other way. When they departed with coin in hand, the boy remained, grateful of his life. 'Better a handful of coins gone than two pennies for the Ferryman,' he thought. Besides, he still had the letter.

Thank you. Just goofing off with my digital palette. Here's another, though it comes across as a little morose...

Enigmatic with a touch of reumatism.

Unless you leave one under the couch. Then a fish will bring you fetor, bad funk and any number of cats.

Prosperity be damned. You fired off a blunderbuss this year and so the year is complete.

Billy is the poster child for all shipwrecked pirates...

We'll hold you to that. Actually we'll chain you up and get shots of you with or without your permission. Pirate photography at its finest. And for the record...those who couldn't or just plain didn't attend this year... ...that treeline behind Maddogge is where we camped all week. It is as amazing as it looks.

A toast to Jim Warren, Captain of the Mer...oh wait. I'm getting ahead of myself again. To Jim! The Man. The Myth. The guy who yelled, "Patrick! Gooooo to bed!" Happy birthday!

Thank you, and yes. There was something to photoshop out in every single picture but three of the 200 shots. More to come.

And finally, some more shipwreck pictures...

Still more shipwreck pics...

Yet even more shipwreck pictures...

Even more shipwreck pictures...

More shipwreck pictures...

Most kind, Hurricane. And speaking of drowning, here are some highlights from the shipwreck photo shoot the day after PIP...

Welcome aboard the Pub.

No, give bad mood mine. I'm not a tea drinker. There isn't enough English in me to appreciate tea. I'm too watered down. Better yet, join us and keep the cup for yourself.