Ransom

Reading and collecting books, my artwork, writing, gardening - playing on the Pub with the good friends I've made.

"Don't get your hopes up, Nate, this is the full count of women. The rest of the crew are men, despite the fact that they are dressed like tavern wenches. That was a ploy, to fool the islanders, who seem mostly interested in men." The jolly boat was coming up alongside the Rakehell, and Africa, the only one not dressed in ladies garb, leaned over the side and grinned. "Dat cannon work pretty good, I think." I grinned back. "It worked just grand. Your timing was perfect."

FYI - Crew of the Rakehell - Gaff-rigged Schooner, black hull, sienna colored sails. Africa - First mate Goose - Cook (a very bad one) & sniveler Jimmy Cox - Sailor Tunny - Carpenter Ludovico Baglione - Sailor/cook (a really good one - but can't speak English)

Okay guys, here is a place for all us "The Pirate Hunter's Smarter Brother" players to ask questions, make introductions, and call out for help! If you're looking to join the story, ask here first. A place where one player can say to another player - "Hey, Red Cat, I tried to say good morning to you this morning, but your $#@^% PM box was full!"

As Red Cat laughed, and passed around the rum, I slapped my hat to the floorboards, leaned in toward the newcomer, and with as pleasant a smile as I could muster, given the circumstances, introduced myself. "Nate is it? Well, I hate to dissappoint, but that laughing ninny over there is Red Cat, who is not the captain of the ship we're heading for. That happens to be the Rakehell, and I am its captain. The gentleman just behind me, trying not to let me hear him laughing, is Jacky Tar, another captain, currently in want of a ship. The lumbering oaf we brought down the beach is Roberts, and the other in the boat is Silkie." It was my turn with the rum, and I took a healthy swallow and passed it back to Jacky. "Now, if you lot have quenched your thirst, do you think we could get this blasted boat back to the ship, before the islanders decide to send out an armada of dugouts and we all end up looking like bloody pin cushions!"

From out to sea came a deep BOOM, a familier whine, and then an explosion of sand, as one of the eight pounders spit a ball at the islander's feet. Soon another BOOM split the early dawn quiet, and another fountain of sand spewed into the air. "God bless you, Africa," I shouted, even though I knew he could not hear me. Everyone grabbed a sweep and started rowing for their life. Even the newcomer helped, weak as he appeared to be. With the third BOOM and geyser of sand, the islanders retreated into the jungle, while we rowed for the Rakehell like a crew possessed.

Got P.E.W.s book today. Pretty cool. This is the fun part, seeing what different things each artist has put in each book. The "False" part of the name had someting to do with my father paying a ransom demand in false coin. The person holding me for ransom gave me the name as a form of mockery while holding me captive on a pirate ship - where I learned my trade. Like I said, it sounded good at the time, but had I to do it over again, I would leave the False out, which I pretty much do now. Eventually I'll ask the Mods to remove it, if they can. Got a PM from Lady B, who says two books should go out tomorrow. Thanks, Lady B!!

"No time for formal introductions," I barked. "Jacky, Roberts, get a move on. Company is coming!" With my pistol in one hand, and Roberts leaning on my other side, the three of us jogged as best we could to where Red Cat, Silkie and the stranger were waiting. "Everyone, get in the boat. NOW. No time for questions. Cat, if your new friend is so wobbly, then help him on board. Lively, you lot, we don't have any time left." As I spoke, something whizzed by my ear and landed with a small thunk into the side of the jolly boat. "Go, go, go!" I shouted, as Jacky ducked just in time to miss another projectile skimming past to land harmless in the sand.

Okay, we'll bump it to once a month. Next jump will be Aug. 1st. I still don't have P.E.W.s book, but will probably get it today, since I know Silkie has mailed it. BTW, Patrick, I pretty much go by just Ransom these days. The "False" seemed like a good idea at the time, and I had a back-up story to explain it, but it seems a bit silly now.

Cursing under my breath, I shoved my shoulder under Roberts' other arm, and helped Jacky carry the weight of him. "Ya big oaf, Roberts. Hope you enjoyed your little night in Eden, for it may cost us all a dart in the neck." He tried to grumble excuses, but I wasn't listening. Instead, my ears were pricked for any sound of pursuit. When we finally broke through the trees onto the beach, the three of us stopped dead in our tracks, and stared at Cat and Silkie in a stand-off with some stranger. With another, more venomous curse, I looked at Jacky. "Who in blazes is that?"

Evening was setting in as Africa and I walked along the docks. The streets, busy enough during the heat of the day, were bustling as things cooled down a bit. Street hawkers gained new voice, and the foul smell of emptied chamber pots lessened. "Where is this place you're leanding me to?" I asked the big man. "I thought you'd be off with the other lads, finding yourself a nice plump whore." Africa snorted. "Dis man never have to pay for da sweet comforts." I laughed. "Braggart." "Tis honest truth. You ask de others, if you can find dem." It ws my turn to snort. "You think they would admit it? They'd swear you have to pay double, being as you're an ex-slave." Africa puffed out his broad chest. "I be a free man. I never pay. Dey say diff'rent, dey lie." I grinned. "Oh, I believe you. Big strapping fellow as yourself, the ladies probably drag you off—" I jerked at a sudden blow to my left shoulder, as if someone had taken their fist and rammed it into my flesh. The blow was followed by a searing, sharp pain that reached for my vitals and sucked my breath away. Had not Africa instantly grabbed me, I would have fallen to the street. The pain intensified. The world shifted and swayed. I was vaguely aware of Africa cursing, then jerking something away from me, which left me gasping. "What...what is it?" I rasped, trying to get my eyes to focus. "Knife. Some dog-eatin' coward has t'rown a knife into you." "Ioan," I muttered, then all went black.

Necco Waffers (The rootbeer flavored ones)

Africa listened to the frantic calling from the man in the boat. But he had his orders, and since the boat kept coming closer, he ordered Jimmy Cox to aim the swivel gun at the small vessel. Jimmy eyed the big African man with a raized brow. "Ya sure ya want ta do this? He be yellin' somthin' awful, and don't seem too dangerous." "Captain tol me ta fire on any ship dat come close to the Rakehell. Don care who be in dat boat. It ain't comin' no closer. Fire dat gun. NOW!" Jimmy lay the punt to the touch-hole, and the sound of the shot rang out over the water and a large splash erupted a few feet short of the target. "Reload!" Africa ordered. The gun was reloaded, and Jimmy waited to see what the man in the small boat would do. When he began to row away from the ship, Jimmy heaved a sigh of relief. "He's headin' toward shore." "Good," Africa replied. "But keep dat gun ready, in case he change his mind."

Okay, how do you take part in the Baconfest West, if you are in the Northwest? Will there be BLTs, will there be clam chowder with diced bacon, will there be...well, just crispy bacon, tomatoes, and potato fry up?

Drew it, scanned it, uploaded it to photobucket, and slapped it into my avatar spot.

It had been three days since Ioan had threatened me, and demanded a meeting. I'd ignored him, had not kept the meeting, and determined that he wouldn't get a sou of the ship's money. However, I wasn't stupid, and knew Ioan wouldn't let the issue drop. As long as the crew was in Port Royal, he'd try to find a way to get some of the gold. So far, thank God, he hadn't run to Morgan. I checked the progress on the careening of the Rakehell and was satisfied that the ship's bottom, although covered in sea growth, was sound. What worm damage there was, could be repaired. But the smell from the rotting sea creatures which had so far been scaped from her hull and lay in heaps on the beach, would turn the stomach of a charnal-house worker. With a kerchief tied over my mouth, and under the guise of wanting some maps, I crawled on board and double-checked the secret compartment in my cabin to make sure it had not been tampered with. It hadn't. Africa was waiting as I stepped down the ladder which led from the canted deck to the ground. "Everythin' still safe?" I nodded, then pulled the cloth away from my mouth. "Let's get out of here and get someting to drink. Something strong enough to burn away this smell in the back of my throat." Africa grinned wide. "I know a good place. Dey even let you in smellin' like dat." I rolled my eyes and followed him away from the careening yard, both of us smelling like dead shellfish.

The Borgias by Marion Johnson Another interesting period in history.

I stayed Red Cat's hand as she half-cocked her pistol. "If they use darts, you'll never get a chance to use that, half-cocked or not." From the darkness of the jungle I saw a brief spark of light. It flared a bit, then went out. I turned to Jacky, who had also seen the small flame. "So, do you think it's Roberts, having a bit of a smoke after all his...exertions?" At that moment, the briefest hint of tobacco smoke drifted in the early dawn air. "I'll be damned," I whispered, shaking my head.

I have a book on Shakespear which shows pages of his plays written the style of that time - f and s interchangable, y and i interchangable. Part of the problem for writing from then up until I think, Victorian times (I'm not sure of the exact date), is there was no standard spelling for anything. No dictionary to check spelling against (I should have been born then!). Wasn't it also the case, particulary with secretaries of the times, to develope a distint style of writing so that it was harder to forge, and therefore add things to a document that weren't there originally? I'm crawling back into the habit of handwriting - using (gasp) a calligraphy felt-tip pen - because my handwritting is so bad, that at this point, it would be a waste of ink to use the good stuff. That's what writing on the computer does - makes your own handwritting degenerate.

Okay, Boots and Patrick, when you finish the books you have, hang on to them. Lady B is behind and currently has her book, Patrick's and Boot's - all unfinished. Until she gets them going, or drops out, P.E.W, Silkie and I are dead in the water. She says she still wants to do them, but I have no ETA. Sorry, guys. It only takes one.

I was made a gift of said CD (wonderful, everyone on the Pub should order one) by a certain Mr. Tar. That song is as addictive as "It's a Small World." Once you hear it, you can't get it out of your head! Love the cover song as well, "Down Among the Dead Men."

Okay, I PMed this to P.E.W., but will post it here. IF YOU HAVEN'T RECIEVED A BOOK BY FOUR DAYS AFTER THE MAIL DATE, DON'T WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT ROUND IS DUE TO LET PEOPLE KNOW YOU DON'T HAVE THEIR BOOK!!!! Common sense, people. PM the person who's supposed to send you the book and find out what the hang up is. I've given a heads-up several days before each mailing date is due, to remind everyone that the mail date is coming up, BUT I CAN'T BABY SIT EVERYONE. I told everyone from the beginning it would take a commitment - if you don't want to commit and get the books out on time, then drop out now. It's just not fair for those of us who make the effort to mail stuff on time. Especially when there were at least three other people who wanted to play but were too late to join in.

Hey, my choppers work fine, and I don't bite - although I'm fully prepared to nibble on a select few manly pirates I know. An ear there, a neck here, a......

BOOKS GO OUT BY NO LATER THAN FRIDAY, JULY 6TH NO SLACKERS THIS TIME - YOU HANG UP EVERYONE! Boots, Silkie's book is on it's way.