Pew

Agreed. Also, everyone should initial the pages they create as a sort of signature.

Aboard the Lucy A second bolt of lightening and accompanying crack of thunder erupted across the sky. The spray from the waves now mingled with the rain steadily falling in sheets atop the Lucy. Preston stood in the waist and surveyed as best he could the surrounding ships at rest in the harbor. Liam Rowan saw the Ship's Master peering into the rain. "Mister Pew?" "Aye, boy, what 's 't?" Preston had not turned to see the boy holding the ship's spyglass. "Sah." The boy nudged the glass into Preston's hand. Preston rubbed the glass at one end to wipe the rain from the eyepiece. He held it to his eye and moments later dropped it to wipe the rain away again. The boy disappeared from the master's side. "Liam, fetch 's a..." Preston turned to see the boy was gone. Charlie Goddon had returned and informed the Ship's Master that the lanterns had been lit, and that Nathaniel had supplied those armed crewman on watch with dry powder. "Most excellent Mister Goddon, carry on." Charlie had turned and nearly struck Liam. Preston watched as Charlie stopped in his tracks. Several of the crew on duty had also stopped to see what Liam was holding. While Liam was below, Charlie Marsh had given him half of a broken barrel from the used sundries. Liam had taken a wadscrew from the armoury and had been driven it through the cork stop on the barrel. Now standing atop the deck, Liam looked as if he had just speared a block of flotsam. "Son? Wot 'n th' bloody hell s that?" "Sah. T' keep th' rain from off y' 'ead peeking through th' glass." The powder monkey held the half barrel and over Preston's head. "Well bloody 'ell." Preston laughed. "Carry on Mister Rowan." The boy braced the pole against his foot and leaned the small shelter over Mister Whitingford's head. "Aye sah."

So you're in then?

Excellent, 20 minutes from the house here....

My old book arrived safely!! I have it in hand!! Thanks Red Cat Jenny for tracking it down!

Most excellent!!

Aboard the Lucy "Brenton, mind the lanterns, set them alight," called Cutthroat over the steadily rising wind. Brenton huffed and sheathed his knife as he collected the lights. While not on watch, Cutthroat noticed the man paying no mind to anything else aboard. Several of the crew had rigged the canvas tarp over the waist, yet he had not raised a finger. Cutthroat despised laziness regardless of your duty's call. Charlie Goddon had noticed the exchange and jumped in to help Coles. He was determined to keep his nose clean as well as his mates from the Bullrush since his altercation formerly in front of Mister Pew. John Kingsman had just finished securing the larboard cannon with an additional lash as Charlie called to him. "Johnny, give 's hand eh?" asked Goddon of his shipmate. Kingsman finished strapping the Revanche to the gun'le but missed the double hitch Cutthroat had shown him. Nicholas Johnson saw that and caught him. "Mind that knot boy 'r it's er arse." Cutthroat scowled, crossed his arms and waited until John tied the knot correctly. Johnny completed his task and helped Brenton and Charlie light the lanterns and set them aboard.

Aboard the Lucy "Aye sah!" Preston stuck out his hand and surprised Dorian, but he quickly returned the gesture. Bill Flint did the same. "Mind y'selves now," the Ship's master added as the men made their way over the side. Preston watched as the longboat eased away from the Lucy. The Lucy gently scended and pitched as the wind increased, causing the crests of large wavelets to break upon the once glassy harbor. Nosing herself into the wind the Lucy sat low in the water with a full resupply from the Ville du St. Louis. Even with her nearly fathom and a half of freeboard, the spray from several waves could be felt on deck. The sky had become deep grey even in this early evening hour. Preston instinctively looked westward and could still see the bright yellow and orange hues from the sun gradually making their departure from the day. Earlier, the clouds above had once looked like the large sheep Preston's uncle had grazing just outside of Boston, but now they had turned to a heavy sheet covering the island. At once, Preston heard cannon fire just onshore. Several others heard the same and moved quickly to the rail. Seconds later the sky was lit with a bolt of lightening striking somewheres inland. He immediately looked to see the crew making their way ashore slowly, also watching the goings on above. Preston held his breath and let it out slowly. ____________________________________ Navigation Log of the Lucy: Direction: At anchor, bow facing E Speed: At rest Wind: Strong Easterly gusts, 7-10 knots, dead ahead

Hopefully to begin August 1. What you need: Art book; usually 9" by 6" Ability to spend $5-$10 monthly to mail the journal to the next artist on the pub Live within the contiguous United States A commitment to see the project to the end The guidelines of the sketchbook rounds: 12 artists max. Books passed on the 1st of each month, gives each artist at least four weeks to do two to three pages. Keep the books fairly small - such as the easily available black, 9" x 6" ring-bound artists sketch books Any art work style/medium is fine. This is not "fine art" nor is it meant to be "period". It is a fun project with a pirate theme. Materials, as I said, can be anything from rubber stamps, stencils, paints, pencil, crayons, clip art, to your own personal drawings Paraphrased from Patrick's and Ransom's previous posts about the sketchbooks: Here's how it works: You get a sketchbook, You do about 4 - 6 pages of whatever you want in the sketchbook... On or before the first of the month, you mail the sketchbook to the person after your name on "the List"...... Depending on how many other Pyrates are playing will determine how long it will take to get your sketchbook back..... The mailing cost would depend on the size of the sketchbook you use. Average mailing seemed to be anywhere from 5 - 7 dollars. I don't recommend the book-rate mailings, since it can take weeks for a book to travel to the next artist in line. The number of pages you choose to do is up to you. When we went from two weeks to a month in between, it gave everyone plenty of time to do as many pages as they wanted. Some did only three or four, some did up to eight or nine. Various examples: =>Please, please, please, only sign up if you will see the project to the end. Your commitment is what is necessary for the project to be successful.<= The "List": Everyone that wants to participate, please post your name and approximately where you live.... (so I can figure out the most efficient mailing route). Artist Manifest: PEW: Annapolis, Md Matusalem: Wanaque, NJ withoutaname: Brooklyn, NY Callenish Gunner: NW Pa Lady Seahawke: Columbus, Oh pyrateleather: Shawnee, Ks Ransom: Gants Pass, Or Patrick Hand: Arnold, Ca Red-Handed Jill: San Francisco, Ca Cpt Sophia M Eisley: Orlando, Fl Ya never know wha' may b' waitin' for ye 't th' end o' th' round....

Aboard the Lucy An evil grin grew fiendishly at the corners of the Ship's Masters smile. "But o' course Captain."

Aboard the Lucy Preston measured the weather and wrote slowly in the log. He also gauged the wind beginning to cause small tufts on the water. Gusts strong enough to have the pages flutter, gave him cause to retreat to the Ward Room where he completed his entry. He took a moment to gently blow on the ink. 'Ironic' he thought, as he could hear the wind wrap through the rigging. Preston turned a page back and read the morning's entry, "Currently ashore, Dorian Lasseter, William Flint, Christopher Tucker, Jenny Aashcombe, Alder Wenge, James Whiting, Robert James, Jean Doublet..." A gentle knock at the door drew his attention away from the tome. "Sah, Cap'n Lasseter on approach." "Oh?" "Aye sah." ____________________________________ Navigation Log of the Lucy: Direction: At anchor, bow facing E Speed: At rest Wind: Easterly gusts, two points off the bow

Aboard the Lucy The few longboats on approach turned out to be nothing more than merchants and fishmongers peddling their wares to a new craft in the harbor. A sight it must have been to attempt to sell the day's catch to a compliment of sailors with muskets bearing upon you. The craft came and left with nary a good being purchased save for a rumpled sack of fruit and a fresh breadfruit cake. Preston sampled the cake amidships as Patrick Godfrey fetched him a mug of rum to wash down the dry dessert. He passed it on to Loren Brant, who in turned passed in on again, until nearly everyone on watch had a sampling. Most tastes were met with approval until Tjaak Cuylemburch spat it onto the deck and cursed it's cook in his own language. Muttering something in Dutch he hurried below deck. The crew laughed; apparently the cake did not meet muster for the Cook's Mate. Preston noted the craft briefly in the logbook before watching the small boats make rounds o the other vessels anchored just offshore. His eye moved to the cloud cover rapidly approaching the town of St. Pierre. Small wavelets and some crests began to appear atop the harbor closer to shore as the wind gained strength. "Mister Brocke." "Aye sir." "Have th' men fetch th' tarred canvas an' rig 'er up. I have a feeling we may b' seeing a bit o' rain this eve." "Aye sir." ____________________________________ Navigation Log of the Lucy: Direction: At anchor, bow facing E Speed: At rest Wind: Easterly gusts, two points off the bow

I have GOF's currently RM.

Aboard the Lucy Preston watched for a time as the longboats headed to shore. He opened the logbook at the binnacle and noted the missing members of the Lucy's crew. "Coipman, Black, Howard, Aretinson, Millet, Leigh, unaccounted for" He waited a moment longer for the ink to dry. As he looked to larboard, several small craft made their way towards the Lucy. "Patrick, fetch 's th' spyglass eh?" Preston asked slowly. The young boy retrieved it and handed it to the Ship's Master. He drew the object to his eye and watched carefully. "MISTER BROCKE" Preston called without removing the glass. "Aye sah!" "I'd like y'r best shot atop th' mainmast, an' two more in th' bow, we 'ave vessels on approach." "Aye sah!"

You'll always 'ave a friendly port if'n ye ever come east....

Thanks all!! I have to rescind my former statement.....I have GOF's book currently. I'll send my book as well as GOF's to Rogue Mermaid. If my book will throw things off (like doubling up on work for some), I can wait and send it later....

I have Carter's currently. I guess there's no sense in sending out a new book of my own to anyone. I have not heard back from RCJ for some time now about my previous book.

Aboard the Lucy William Flint, Christopher Tucker, Alder Wenge all arrived on deck prepared for a ceremonious trip ashore. Mister Flint had also retrieved James Whiting and Robert Jameson from his ranks of marines to accompany the party ashore. Preston looked at the master-at-arms' choice. While the men where similar in age and proportion, their backgrounds and appearance could not be more differing. Mister Whiting's blue eyes and blonde hair contrasted to Robert's fiery red mustache and shaved head. Preston laughed to himself. While James was able to converse briefly in the classic languages, as well as Scripture, Mister Jameson was a poor Irishman whose only communication was in English. Yet both men wore the badge of honor as Marines of the Lucy. They stood at attention with their musket buttstock flat on the deck. The ship's master continued inspection of those men reporting back to the waist. Alder Wenge was a full fathom tall and neatly groomed, ready for the visit to the Admiralty House. Christopher "Lucky Tuck" Tucker, was the smallest of the group but easily one of the most influential. For any journey of importance, Christopher was sure to be invited. Finally William Flint was always a button of perfection. Nearly a full foot taller than all of the men and armed well, almost too well for a 'friendly' trip to Monsieur Arnaud Richet, one of the Admiralty Judges. Preston paused. "Mayhaps a pistol less, eh Mister Flint," Preston whispered to the master-at-arms. "Aye sir," Bill replied stoically. As Bill headed below for a quick exchange, Captain Lasseter and Jenny Ashcombe arrived on deck. Captain Lasseter in his 'shore' finery, and Miss Ashcombe dressed in simple slops, shirt, neckerchief, and an ill-fitting hat of Miss McDonough's. Again, the contrast was found humorous to Preston. "Captain, Miss Ashcombe," Preston smiled, acknowledged the pair and knuckled his forelock. Miss Ashcombe curtsied and Dorian Lasseter nodded, "Mister Whitt'n'f'rd. Are th' men ready?" "Aye sah. Mister Flint 's curently b'low deck, back 'n a moment. We 'ave th' Lucy's small boat ready 's well." "Mister Doublet?" Dorian asked. "Oui, Capitaine Lasseter," Jean replied. Dorian nodded again and as if Bill Flint had been listening, he returned to his postion. Preston stepped forward, closer to Dorian Lasseter, "Sah, a gift f'r th' Admiralty Judge, courtesy of Miss Ashcombe." Jenny blushed for her mistake, but Captain Lasseter was none the wiser. Dorian accepted the bottle and placed it in a leather satchel. Dorian left Mister Whittenford's side. "Lieutenant Martin, thank you f'r your patience," the Captain spoke. "Ah oui, s'il vous plaît," Lieutenant Martin swept his hand towards his small cutter. "Mister Flint, if you'd b' so kind 's t' accompany me with the Lieutenant. You gents, take Miss Ashcombe an' 'r cutter ashore." "Aye sah," came from those men at once. "Mister Whitt'n'f'rd, you 'ave th' deck." ______________________________________ Navigation Log of the Lucy: Direction: At anchor, bow facing ENE Speed: At rest Wind: North Easterly breeze, one points off the bow

A man after me own heart... Captain Brand, I'd rather raise a tankard....

Aboard the Lucy Miss Ashcombe had presented herself in the waist before the Captain had reappeared. She had before her a bottle of fine vintage, but better than Lieutenant Martin would have opportunity to imbibe. Assuming the present was for the French higher-ups ashore, Preston caught her before it had been unveiled to the Lieutenant. A second of momentary confusion caught the steward off-guard. "Whoa, Ash," Preston whispered to her, "'Tis a gift for those tha' make th' decisions' ashore, not 'n errand boy." The Ship's master had seen his share of those who felt their position was greater than it truly was. Lieutenant Martin was one of those men. Miss Ashcombe, confused, finally understood to whom the bottle was for while the Ship's master had ahold of her arm. She glanced to those unfamiliar men on the deck of the Lucy. Preston reassured her, "Tell th' Cap'n I'll remain aboard as 'e makes th' appropriate presentations ashore." A wink accompanied his final statement. Miss Ashcombe smiled, relinquished the bottle and curtsied briefly before returning to the Ward Room. Lieutenant Martin waited patiently in the waist of the Lucy with his marines for a return of Captain Lasseter. _____________ Navigation Log of the Lucy: Direction: At anchor, bow facing N Speed: At rest Wind: Northerly breeze, two points off the bow

Eric merely nodded in agreement. "Aye sah, somedays th' dragon wins," Eric added as an afterthought. "Mister Franklin?" The Captain didn't quite understand the statement by the Master-at-arms. "Sah, at my former post, my master gunner used t' say after a bit o' bad luck, 'Somedays th' dragon wins.' He always told us St. George couldn't best them all." Eric wanted to continue, to discuss the new marines, but it was not pressing. "I'll be about m' duties sah." Eric replaced his cap and returned to the deck of the Watch Dog.

Eric remained standing. He removed his cap and placed it in his hands. He wiped his brow of any perspriation that may be evident, real or imagined. "Beggin your pardon sah, a few o' th' men 'ave noticed, and myself t' be included... has, is...damn...well sah, does den Oven cause th' Captain for 's much concern 's he 'as shown 's of late? I understand Miss McDonough an' such, but th' Captain seems t' have much on his mind." Eric was not once to mince words nor be nervous, but standing before Captain Brand now, a different veil had fallen.

"Aye sah, very clear sah. The marines on watch will hear of me on it." Eric noticed the Captain's overall pallor had become increasingly heavy. "Beggin' y' pahdon sah, a word sah, in private?"

"Any need for drastic measures sah, 's far 's Miss McDonough?" Eric was ready to keep the woman from speaking, whether it was her choice or not.

I have not seen my original as of yet. Hopefully it will wander home by way of RCJ....