Ransom

The new wifey will be glad to hear that! Books are my late-night downfall as well. If it's a really good one, I'm doomed to stay up and see how it ends. **Glance at the clock...Okay, one more chapter...glance at the clock...ummm, maybe one more...glance at the window as the sun comes up...oops!**

ACK!!! HORRORS NO!! Whew, I was kinda worried there for a moment.

When someone cuts you off in traffic, and you yell, "Ya bilge sucking, deck-licking lubber!" Instead of just calling them an A..hole!

I think I've found Shangri La as well! Err, except for that Swedish Bikini Team thing. Oh, and I'll take wine instead of ale...but other than that, Shangri La for sure! Now Ransom what tis wrong with being Swedish and blond? Nothing, Captain, but please, don't tell me you wear a bikini! Ooh, peeps. I'm a hereditary peep addict. For my Dad, there is NO Easter without peeps.

I think I've found Shangri La as well! Err, except for that Swedish Bikini Team thing. Oh, and I'll take wine instead of ale...but other than that, Shangri La for sure!

I let out a exasperated sigh. "Well, you two are about as forthcoming as two clams. Have it your way," I glared at Jane, "but don't con me with all that 'it's in the past' bilge, as it's obviously still a problem now, at least with Roberts, otherwise he wouldn't have been hovering over you like some vultur." Red Cat yawned and I decided to drop the issue, as we all needed our sleep. "Before you retire to your hammocks, get something decent to eat. We'll be up at first light tomorrow, and hopefully Jacky will let us know where our first port of call will be. Then I agree, we should have a little chat, rum or no rum."

I watched Roberts leave the ship. He was a cool one, and that was for sure. Despite my misgivings, I had to admire the man's bravado. But, better men than he had tried the charm routine, and had found I was imune. The Rakehell wouldn't still be mine if I fell for every charmer that came along. Once Roberts was off the ship, I went below, looking for the two women. I found them picking through the victuals. "Alright you two, out with it. Treasure hunting brings out the worst in people, without already starting with the worst. Let's get all the mysteries out of the way at the outset. You've already seen what trouble they can cause. No more evasions. Spill it, or this ship goes no further."

"Cat, let go of Africa, he stays here," I barked. "If you want food, take Goose, he's the cook." I kept my eye on Roberts. I didn't like the way he thought a bit of smooth talking was going to sway me over to his side. Did the man think I'd been born yesterday? There had been no mistaking Jane's agitation and discomfort, despite Robert's courtly act. And the fact that the Cat felt it necessary to hussle Jane away told another story. Africa had shaken off Red Cat's hand and returned to his post behind me. I addressed Roberts calmly. "So, you're an emisary, are you? Then why didn't you come find me directly? I've been told it's a small ship, I'm not that hard to locate. Instead, I find you leaning over one of my crew in what I still think was a threatening way." I stepped forward, so that no more than two feet or so seperated us. "You can inform Commodore Tar that the Rakehell, her captain, and her crew will be ready to sail at the first tide in the morning. If that was your only purpose in coming here, then you are now free to go." I stepped a foot closer and met his hard stare with my own. "You observe, Mr. Robert's, that your tactic of charm has been used on me before, with the same poor results. Don't rely on it again."

Muffins? Cakes? **Holds up hand, palm out.** No, no. I'm still working on pumpkin bread, and the rum pound cake and tub of rum caramel sauce that Jigme sent home with us after Portlandia. I want protein! So, bring on the fish!

"Mister Roberts!" I snapped at the man who leaned over Jane. "Do you have a reason to be on board this ship, or are you simply here to threaten my crew?" Behind me, Africa stood like a black oak tree, a big hand on the hilt of his cutlass. At a word, he'd chop Roberts' head off. "State your business, or get off the Rakehell. I've no time to play guessing games. There's enough mystery about you already, and the look on Jane's face tells me you're not exactly welcome at the moment. Speak up, man!" Everyone on the ship went quiet. Tunny and Jimmy hovered above on the rat lines. Goose stared goggle-eyed across the deck, a bag of canvass-wrapped tools still in his hand, waiting to be stowed. The young lad I'd hired only a week ago, Seth Henly, froze where he stood near the gang plank. Even the Cat stood silent. "I'm waiting, Mr. Roberts." I said, my voice a deadly calm.

Who says commercial fishermen don't have a sense of humor? Taken in the Port of Coos Bay, Charleston, OR. Or this?

With more than a little curiosity, Ioan watched her pick her way among the prone bodies, until she stopped by the side of a young lad. He heard her whisper something to the boy, then watched as he made to follow her from the inn. Then a loud voiced boomed from overhead, and Jane froze in her tracks. Ioan tensed, ready to pull knife or pistol, if needed. He grabbed Jane by the arm. "Who the hell is that?"

Ioan laughed, enjoying her exasperation. She was so easy to fluster, he did it more as a game than out of any real malice. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he liked her. Not in any amourous way, she wasn't his type, but he liked her spunk. Besides, she only had eyes for Captain Striker, and Ioan wanted no trouble there. He followed her, wondering just what in blazes she was looking for.

"I'll not pour a drop until you put that bloody glass down." Cat's hand froze in mid-air, so I took that opportunity to refil her goblet. "There." I plopped back into my chair. "If I don't hear from Jacky soon, I'll send one of my crew over to let him know when we'll be ready to leave. I still can't believe he thought I'd borrow credit from him for this trip. I don't indept myself to anyone, even friends. Jane offered her purse to help pay for the provisions, but I told her if this trip is a failure, I wouldn't be able to pay her back anything." I took a sip of the Port, letting it roll around my mouth before swallowing. Then I looked up at the Cat. "Like I said, I sure hope Commodore Tar knows what he's getting us all into."

Like others here, I'm usually reading two, three and four books at a time. Currently I'm working through two very long, convoluted books. Vellum - The Book of All Hours by Hal Duncan Quicksilver - Volume one of the Baroque Cycle by Neal Stephenson For something totally different, I'm also going through a book written by a close friend that I've known since the mid-eighties when we both worked at B Dalton Bookstore. He's now a history professor at the University of Miss. The book is: Honoring the Civil War Dead - Commemoration and the Problem of Reconciliation by John R. Neff. (I'm even mentioned on the dedication page on this one! This guy's like my brother and even his mom introduces me as John's sister (he has none), to which his only brother commented, "Mom, is there something you need to tell us?")

nope. I should post a before & after pic. Nothing about my mundane self is period correct. Glasses, dreads, tattoos & piercings all disappear for my kit. I look like an entirely different person! Actually, I'd like to see a picture of your "other" (I won't say normal - who is?) self. But not for the same reasons as Patrick. I've only seen the picture of you in garb, which makes you look positively puritanical - not someone you would expect to have dreads, tattoos and piercings. I've got the tattoos and piercing, but my hair is too short and curly to do dreads. Anyway, if you've got an everyday picture, it would be fun to compare.

Nose ring? You have a nose ring? And I thought having a pierced navel was daring! Sooo, is a nose ring GAoP correct?

Thank you very much, surrah! Hope we can take you up on it some day.

One can only hope!

Not a lot to tell. Lorien Stormfeather invited me and my husband to meet the Portlandia gang at a weekend get-together. I had to scramble, 'cause all we had were old SCA garb. My husband ended up okay, but I had to make a skirt and shirt in about three days, plus find and dig out old SCA eating utensils, etc. We had a great time, met lots of fun people, ate like pigs (it was a two-day pot luck) and joined in chanty jams both Friday and Saturday night. From the Pub I met Billy Bones and Captain Jigme. My husband, who had no pirate name, was dubbed Chain Shot by a member of Pyrates of Portlandia (Topknot - a very cool pirate, as is his wife, Ruby Rum Bottom!). Came home with a cold, that got worse. I'm just today feeling a bit better, but still sound like Froggy from the Little Rascals. Not quite a match for RF2, but a nice way for us to get our feet wet, sort to speak, in all this pyrate stuff. My husband is hooked! He's already searching the internet for.....bucket boots! Billy Bones really impressed us both. He looks the real thing, and is a very nice man.

She's a busy girl!

I've always had names for my cars. Mainly because my Dad always ended up giving names to his cars - still does. The most memorable one, was his brief encounter with a black Camero that turned out to be a lemon. He called it the Black Turd until he sold it. I've owned: 1963 Valient - named Smoky for the amount of oil that blew out the exhaust. It was so bad, I got a ticket for it. 1970 Dodge Challenger - Killer bee yellow with black top. I still have and love this car! It has a very long nose, so was named Cyrano. There was a short period when the black vynle top stripped off the center, and it was called Samari Dodge, but when it was repainted black, it went back to Cyrano. Cyrano is still parked in my garage. 1986 Toyot PU. My Dad gave me this truck. It was sort of a faded copper brown color, so ended up being called Brownie, then as it got older, Old Brown. By the time I traded it in, it was on life-support. 1990 something Ford Bronco XLT. Was gray, and called Tank Girl. Ended up being called *&^&% Piece of Shite, since it was a huge lemon/money pit. Held a party the day I got rid of it. 1996 Toyota T-100 PU. Loved this truck. It was red and everyone who saw it said, "What a cute litle truck." I usually just called it T, or Little Red. Cried the day I traded it in for my Tundra, but it had over 100,000 miles on it. 2000 Tundra PU. It's white, so usually just called The White (as opposed to my husband's Ford truck which is red - "Do we take the white or the red?") Not very creative, but it works. Although every now and then it gets called The Ghost, so maybe that will stick.

I laughed. "I'm sure Mr. Tar will arrange something. After all, he is the Commodor of this trip, so the organization falls to him. I'm just to follow along and politely take orders." Cat could play coy about Roberts for now. Eventually, with this kind of voyage, secrets had a way of leaking out, so I figured I'd hear the trueth sooner or later. "The supplies should be all loaded by late this evening. If Jacky wants to leave in the morning, that's fine with me. Did Silkie decide to sail on the Relentless, or did she elect to stay behind?" I remembered the seal I thought I'd seen earlier, and figured I probably already knew the answer.

I don't know about superstitious, but a lot of caution wouldn't go amiss. I'm sure the gold it out there, but something tells me that's not all Jacky is after. I think that magic healing water is what has him sailing off to the Tortugas." I poured a bit more Port, then relaxed into my chair. "At some point Jacky and I are going to have to compare charts and decide how best to get there. We also need contingent plans in case the two ships get seperated - either by weather or enemy ships. Maybe a rondevous point on some other island." Leaning in, I hoisted the bottle and poured more Port into the Cat's glass, then gave her an innocent smile. "So, tell me about this Roberts friend of yours."

Hey, Flintlock, I think those are enough interesting questions for a whole seperate thread! What do you think?