Ransom

Hummmm, has a visual of the voodoo doll/sword fight by a dead guy from the movie Stardust.

Okay, gang, NorCal is coming up soon. One of the biggest, most heavily attended events on the pirate calendar. Those of you who have been, know what I mean. NorCal is HUGE. It also has the added attraction of the schooner Aldebaran doing a ship to shore cannon battle both days. ( I should know, I be part of her crewe!) So, start thinking about heading to the Bay of Saint Francis come June—traditionally on Father's Day weekend. Tales of the Seven Seas will be there, as usual, so come on by and say howdie.

Governor, eh. Why is it that I suddenly see half of my "West Indies Goods" being parceled out between Pew and the good Gov.? Oh, and as for where Josh will end up hanging around...let's hope it's not in the same condition his Captain frequently ends up "hanging" around.

Home: The Rakehell (See signature) On shore, I would hang out in Pew's low-brow tavern, maybe have a private room reserved for me, in exchange for supplies of certain "West Indies Goods."

In a rage, MacTavish watched the fog bank roll in, sure his prize was going to escape. The bow of the sloop was already engulfed when he gave the order to fire. Three cannons spewed smoke, flame, and 30 pound balls, the reports echoing over the water like crazy thunder. One ball missed, but the other two struck home. With a loud crack the main mast snapped and fell to larboard, throwing splinters of wood in all directions, the sails draped like bunting over the rails. The other ball hit the tiller, which exploded in a burst of wood, iron and sea water. "That'll stop her," MacTavish yelled. "Fog or nae fog, she's dead in the water. Now, close in, afore we lose sight o' her." The Flodden veered smartly to starboard and came up alongside the sloop just as the fog shrouded them all in a blanket of white. Just before he gathered himself to leap to the other ship's deck, MacTavish paused and called to his first mate. "What's that gawdawful smell?"

Jill's book is done, and I will be mailing it to Patrick when I head into town on Friday.

Just got my on-line tickets! Now I have to find a place in Eugene for us to spend the night. This is just going to be soooo kewl! Abney Park, dancing, costumes...woo hoo!

They sat on folding chairs set under a huge palm, its fronds like a giant umbrella over their heads. Helena sighed. “You know Tibbits is going to hear of this eventually.” “Assuming he didn’t do it himself, in which case, he already knows.” Alex hadn’t taken a chair, but paced back and forth like a caged tiger. “You really think he might have?” Sandy asked. “I certainly wouldn’t be surprised.” It broke Helena’s heart to see Alex like this, the event he’d planned for six long months caving in around him. It also frightened her to think that, instead of Flash, it could have been Alex lying in their own tent with a nasty bruise on his head. First thefts, now assault. What would be next? If Tibbits was doing it so he could get back to the mainland, how far would he go? “What I don’t get is, why steal the food or a fishing pole?” Sandy shifted in his chair. “Diversion? Or just plain nastiness. Who knows?” Alex finally sat. Helena touched his arm and smiled, but there was nothing she could do to take the fury out of his eyes. She took her hand away and said, “It makes me wonder why he agreed to take this job. Couldn’t he have told Temp Security to give him something else?” “I don’t know, but I sure wish he had.” Sandy gave Alex an enigmatic look. “Anything else happens, Alex, and whether Tibbits admits to it or not, I’m going to have to call this thing off. I can’t risk someone getting seriously hurt.” Alex stood abruptly. “You don’t think I haven’t already thought of that? Soon as I saw Flash and heard what happened. Shit, Sandy, we’ve got kids here. It makes me sick to think that something bad might happen to any of them. I’ve held a running debate in my head for the last hour—do I call the ferry, or don’t I?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN September 19 Campground, San Cristobal Island Helena stood next to Alex as Sandy examined Flash, a member of a crew called Forward Battery. Flash lay on a cot, his body covered by a flowered quilt. A large bandage smothered his left ear, and his left eye was almost swollen shut, but the eyes that stared up at them were hard and glittered with rage. “So, you never saw who did it?” Alex asked. Flash shook his head and winced. “No.” “Why were you out so late?” Flash’s good eye narrowed. “Who wants to know?” “I do,” Alex snapped. “There’s been another theft—food, some fancy root beer, and a fishing pole. Why were you on the path so late?” “That’s my fault, Captain Blue.” A woman stepped forward, her face creased with worry. “Flash drank a bit too much rum last night. I told him to walk it off before coming to bed. He’s not a thief.” Helena went to her. “What time did he get back to camp?” The woman was near to tears. “I ... I fell asleep. When I woke this morning and saw he wasn’t back I panicked, thinking he might have fallen.” She looked over at Flash. “He was pretty drunk. So I got a few of our crew and we went looking for him. Found him stumbling down the path from the spring. White as a sheet and looking half dead. And without his clothes. Someone stole his clothes. When we got him back to the tent, I sent for Sandy and Alex.” Helena put her arm around the woman. “He’ll be alright. Sandy’s a real paramedic. He’ll fix Flash up.” Helena turned to medic. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” “If we were on the mainland, I’d recommend x-rays, but as we’re not, I advise rest. I want someone to keep an eye on him, and no drugs, not even an aspirin, for the next twenty-four hours.” “Jeeze, Sandy, not even a Tylenol? My head is killing me.” “Serves you right for getting so drunk. But until the danger from concussion is over, sorry, no pain medication. And no rum, or alcohol of any kind.” He looked at Flash’s wife. “If he shows any signs of disorientation, nausea, or passes out, you come and get me, quick as you can. I’ll use Tibbits’ satellite phone to call in a med chopper.” “I don’t need any med chopper,” Flash grumbled. “You just shut your gob, and do as Sandy tells you.” His wife shot him an intimidating glare. “Speaking of Tibbits.” Helena looked at Sandy. “Does he know about this, or the thefts?” She felt like a lead weight lay in the pit of her stomach. This would be all the excuse Tibbits needed to call the ferry. Sandy shook his head. “I haven’t told him.” “Neither did any of our crew,” Flash said. “After what he did last night, we figured we’d better keep quiet about it.” “I talked to the group whose food was stolen. They didn’t say anything to Tibbits either.” Alex said. Helena had a sudden, sickening thought. She met Alex’s grim expression. “You don’t think Tibbits did this, do you? I mean, last night he admitted he wanted to slap someone with that billy club.” Alex turned to Sandy. “Can you tell what he was hit with?” “Just something blunt, is all.” “Why would he steal my clothes. And my boots! The bastard took my new boots. Cost me over a hundred bucks for those.” Flash moaned, but Helena couldn’t tell if it was because of his headache or his loss. “Be glad all you lost was your boots. If you’d been hit two inches over, in the temple, there’s a good chance you would have lost your life.” Sandy packed away the first aid kit, then turned to Alex. “Best let him rest.” Helena, Alex and Sandy left the tent. They walked in silence toward the first aid cabana. Frying bacon scented the early morning air. Questioning eyes followed them. Word of the assault had drifted throughout the camp like a foul mist. Sandy led Helena and Alex to his own tent, behind the cabana, where they could talk in private.

Currently listening to Faerie radio, part of Live365.com. Really good, haunting, and in a way, relaxing music. I've tried to copy and paste the link, but it won't let me. However, if you go here, and click into Faerie Radio, (On the right hand side of the site page) you can get into it. Faeryworld...Faery Radio Oh, and BTW, I LOVE Abney Park. Hope to see them in Eugene, OR on Jan. 31st at a masked Bad Faerie/Steampunk ball.

Just got this notice today from the Fans of Abney Park on Facebook. They will be playing at the Bad Faeries/Steampunk masked ball on Saturday night, Jan. 31st. in Eugene, Oregon! Here is a link to the Faeryworld site, and more information. Hang out on the site for a while, look at the pictures. You'll get to hear Abney Park singing Airship Pirates. Faeryworld Winter Festival

That is a great link, Bo. Thanks. I even bookmarked it. For a writer, there is a wealth of information to draw from, and a unlimited number of stories that could be invented, based on this documented owl trade. Thanks for passing it on.

You can run, suh, but you cannot hide!

LOL She could be Spanish. They could be her henchman. The Spanish version of Pintel and Reggetti?

As the Pride of Flodden tracked the small sloop, MacTavish pondered his options. She was a small prize, to be sure, but her crew could be forced to divulge the reason the other two ships were loitering in such a out-of-the-way place. MacTavish was good at getting sailors to divulge information. With one more look through his glass, MacTavish made his decision. "Archy, ye great haggis," he snapped. His tormented first mate came running up. "Yes, sir?" "Order yon Mr. Crawford tae hae the crew load the guns." Archy's bloodshot eyes widened. "We're tae fire on the sloop, then?" MacTavish waved a fist. "If I dinna want tae fire on yon shoop would I order Crawford tae load the guns! Get on with it, ye pickle-faced son of a coo." At double speed, Archy informed the ship's gunner to make ready the guns, while the Pride of Flodden made one last tack, which would, with the wind in her favor, bring her up behind the sloop.

I pretty much agree with this. And how about a female arch-villain this time? Now, that would be fun!

Okay, life has calmed down a bit. Red-Handed Jill's book will be going out to Patrick some time next week. Friday at the latest. Patrick's book will be going home ASAP after that. Probably by the end of the month, if not sooner. Sorry for the delay, guys, but I just had a lot of shyte to deal with, and we were away from home a lot.

A most happy birthday to Chain Shot, the pyrate of my heart. You don't see him often on the Pub, 'cause the poor man canna type, but he checks in every day. So, those who know him, please wish him well. Cheers, beloved...

I was Secret Santa for Syren. The reason the mermaid drink stirrers came separately, is that I had wrapped up the other things and realized I had forgotten to include them in the box. Duh! So rather than rip open the sealed and address labeled box, I mailed them by themselves. BTW, the key really is an old vintage key that I picked up in Coos Bay, OR. The drink stirrers I bought at the Pirate Antique Mall in Newport, Or. The English toffee is made here in Grants Pass, and the jam is also made in Oregon. I like to support local. Oh, and the necklace I made myself.

Chain Shot and I will be there, along with other members of Tales of the Seven Seas. Probably the first weekend, as that is our usual. Come by and say howdy. The Tales encampment is easy to find. The House of Bang and Boom is also part of the Tales group...we have pistols...and cannons.

Very lovely indeed. Where on the Oregon coast do you hang your tricorn? Chain Shot and I are down in Grants Pass, but our boat is in Charleston. I see you did coins for a group in Depoe Bay. We were just up in Newport not long ago, but have also stayed in Depoe bay at the Channel House. (Okay, duh, I finally clicked into your link. Guess that answers the question of where you hang your hat. Great work, BTW.)

Thank you all for your input. I'll probably go ahead and start a blog site, out of curiosity to see how it works and what kind of feedback, if any, I get. And since I'm kinda phobic about names for things (they have to be just right), I'll spend some time trying to think up a good name for the site. If you have any more ideas or suggestions, I'd be interested to hear them. And it would be kinda nice if those of you who have web/blog sites would post links in your signatures, because like Michael said, few people look at your personal page, so wouldn't know you have anything like that. Just a thought.

Right then, last pesky question. If you do it for fun, or to pass on information to either friends or family, do you worry that someone "out there" will pirate your postings and use them somewhere else, without your permission or giving you credit? I think this would especially bother someone who writes creatively, or who posts information gathered through personal research. Or is that just a risk you are willing to take? (I know, this make me sound paranoid...okay, so I am, a little. LOL )

Okay, then I guess my next question would be, if you do it for your own enjoyment, and don't post in it very often, why have a blog site? Why not just do a personal computer diary? I'm not trying to be argumentative, I'm just curious about blog sites in general, and why people start them, and if you were not going to post information, why a blog site is more attractive than a private diary. Most diaries I have read are written as if the author expects the entries to be read by someone else eventually (In some cases, hopefully after the author is dead), so I'm thinking that is the same reason a public blog site has more appeal than a private computer journal? You want someone else to read it and leave their opinions on your ideas and thoughts?