Captain Jim

Aye, 'twas great to get that call, and thanks to the Quartermaster for arranging it. Mind you I didn't hear the phone as I was in the midst of 350 Cub Scouts in a dining hall at the time. But these fine Pyrates were kind enough to leave a message (in a bottle, as it were.) It made me laugh. I downed a dram of rhum, smuggled into the camp, naturally, and toasted to all of your fine health. Now who was it that yelled, "You Bugger!" at the end of the call? I've a pistol ball wi' yer name on it, mate! Cheers, all! Jim

You, sir, are too kind.

Damn Schooner Wharf webcam isn't working! I can hear the Wench/Pyrate competition but I can't see it! And I tested it earlier today and it was working!

Or if, like me, you are a Facebook Luddite, you can get there thisaway.

Now y'all remember to find the web cams located in Key west and ham it up a bit...we'll be watching. Like tonight at Schooner Wharf. A list and links can be found here. And here.

And who should show up in my email yesterday, promoting the event. Scroll below the fair and you'll see. http://www.whofish.org/Default.aspx?tabid=46&modid=380&itemid=7491&rCode=18&action=detail&iv=ext&cid=5418&cuid=82907347&ems=FL11222010uw Hey! I used to be that guy! Mark my words, I shall be again, soon. Jim

I, too, would like to express my appreciation to all who have come together to keep this gathering the best pyrate reunion on the planet. "Wow" just about sums it up. Until my return, Jim

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.

Now go fly the big one at PiP...and post pictures.

Nice finds, those vids. I note that both are "ten-strings" arranged in pairs similar to the modern 12-string. I would also point to Vermeer's "The Guitar Player" (1672), a woman (!) playing something very similar to what would be called a "parlor" guitar in the late 1800's right up to the 1930's . I used to have a 1920's Gibson parlor, very small but had a big voice. Stylistically not so different except for the sound hole rosette of the baroque instruments which bordered on the insanely ornate:

And my wife and son couldn't be happier.

Don't look now, but Patrick has gone all Dr. Frankenstein on us...

Happy Birthday! Late again, as ususal.

I found another rope: top rope. Located at the tops of main, mizzen and fore.

Hey, I know that one: Spencer, a gaff-rigged foresail on a square rigger. Just called a gaff jib on a masthead rig. I still don't know salt shelf, unless it's retirement for old sailors.

So, next year we get to hang Nigel and Spike?

Aye, that's why I said "sorta". The word "rope" is in the construction, not in the name. So one might have a footrope made of nylon line or cordage, but you could also have a footrope made of wire rope, introducing the word "rope" on board. A sailor would be sent to fetch a coil of hemp line or sent to get a coil of wire rope. I know I'm getting semantical, but it does mandate the word "rope" when speaking of it on board. So is it a rope, as in a named part of the ship like a footrope? No. Is it rope aboard that is not commonly referred to as line or cordage? Yes. It's why I kinda hesitated to include it to begin with. This is why language can be such fun!

There is actually one more, sorta, only it is a modern usage. But, since no time period was specified, I'll include it. Wire rope is never called line. It retains the name "rope" even when aboard. As in "The main halyard is made of wire rope" as oppossed to "The main halyard is made of dacron line." There's 3/8" nylon line and 3/8" wire rope.

Sure, first you lxcn lsjhdf(while turning blue) and then you v;oasbddfo and anoiihfd. Then use spellcheck before you pass out from lack of oxy..... Wake up, repeat.

That's udderly ridiculous... By the way, which one are we..? Both, I should think!

Footrope or foot-rope. Two uses aboard: the line rigged under a yard on which to stand while handing sail; the boltrope at the foot of a sail.

Much like Mission I have remained quiet on this thread, waiting to hear some facts and particulars. That and it's hard to type while simultaneously being slack-jawed, holding my breath and taking a large noggin of (medicinal) rhum, trying all the while to keep my fingers crossed...

Happy Birthday, mate.

Concratulations on yer Mini Matty, to you and the Lovely Lady.

St. Pyratesburg was, of course, meant in jest, as if for a real-time tourist trap. But for an actual city-of -the-period I propose a name both familiar and dear to some of our posters: Serenity. It even comes with a cool song...