Ransom

CHAPTER FIFTEEN September 18 La Perla Islet Gray Dog stood looking out over the isthmus connecting La Perla to San Cristobal. Like a bridge made of mother-of-pearl, the wet sand glowed in the soft moonlight. He jogged across, his shoes making sloshing noises, then climbed quickly to the spring and the low ridge. When he looked down at the camp all was dark, but for the ruby coals still pulsing in the fire pit. There was no guard posted, no rum-felled bodies lying about, no mongrel dogs sniffing. Nothing. Stealthy as a wharf rat, he worked his way to the nearest tent—like no pirate tent he’d ever seen. Inside, someone snored, coughed, gurgled, then continued snoring. With a quick glance around, he spied another crate. Being stronger now he’d had two decent meals, he didn’t waste time dragging it, but hefted it up and returned to the darkness under the palms. When a safe distance away from the camp, he lowered the crate to the ground, worked the catch, and opened it. He found more frozen bricks, and more slippery bags. He also found long-necked bottles with metal caps. Hoping it was more rum, he tried to pull one of the caps off, but it didn’t budge. Curious, he tied his shirt up and put three of the bottles inside, wincing as the cold hit his stomach. As before, he ripped the bags open with his teeth. The first was full of raw ground meat. He ate it anyway. The second held small round biscuits full of raisins and some creamy dark bits of sweet. He ate half of them, then stuffed the bag in his shirt with the bottles. In the next few moments, he found and ate greens, carrots, and a hunk of cheese. Finally full, he crept back to the tent and checked to see if there was anything he could use. He spied a fishing pole, although it was like none he’d ever used. He took it, along with a checkered cloth left on a table. The cloth was light, but he figured to use it as a blanket. Unfortunately, he saw no rum bottles. With his new prizes clutched tight, and the bottles clinking coldly against his skin, he started back to La Perla. He’d almost made it to the spring when he heard a noise ahead of him. Shite! They had posted a guard after all. He dodged off the path, out of the moonlight, and crouched in the darker shadows. Within seconds a figure rounded a bend in the path. He was stumbling and mumbling to himself. Gray Dog smiled. Not a guard then, but some rum-sodden dog out to take a piss. As the man passed him, one of the bottles within Gray Dog’s shirt, with a slight clink, shifted. The man stopped. “Who’s there?” Inwardly cursing, Gray Dog slowly put down the fishing pole and blanket—more clinking—then reached in his shirt and grabbed one of the bottles by its neck. “S’anyone there, mate?” The man peered in Gray Dog’s direction. Gray Dog stayed quiet. The man stepped toward him, leaning over a bit, one hand out in front of him like a blind man feeling his way. “S’anyone hurt or sumthin’?” Before that hand could reach him, Gray Dog leapt up and swung the bottle, hitting the man on the side of his head. He dropped like a stone. “Stupid bastard,” Gray Dog muttered. He then proceeded to strip the man of his clothes and boots. When he got him down to his small clothes, he stared in shocked amazement at the fancy silk cloth covering the man’s privates. The cloth looked almost like the little bits barely covering the two demon women he’d seen earlier. He huffed. This man was no demon. More likely some kind of secret fancy-boy. With a shake of his head, he wrapped the clothes and boots in the blanket, retrieved the fishing pole, and quickly darted up over the ridge, splashed through the spring, then down to the beach and back across the isthmus. Besides the food and clothes, he’d gained information. This was no pirate camp, despite the death’s head flags. He didn’t know who or what these colonists were, or where they came from, but they weren’t going to stop him from finding Renaldo’s treasure. If all of the men were as stupid as the one he’d encountered tonight, then he wasn’t in much danger. Scurvy idiot hadn’t even had a blade on him. Back at his nest on La Perla, he untied the checkered cloth, dumped the clothes out, then lay it over the sand. He pulled the bottles and the little bag of biscuits—which had suffered in the encounter and were reduced to mostly broken bits—out of his shirt, and set them among the clothes. He knelt on his knees in the sand, took one of the bottles and again tried to open it. No matter how hard he pulled, the little cap wouldn’t come off. He pried it with his teeth, but he had too few and they were too rotten to do the job. He banged the cap on the nearest palm, thinking to loosen it, and tried again to pull it off, but without success. In frustration, he banged it against the palm one last time. Nothing. Cursing, he tried twisting the cap. There was a cracking sound and the cap turned. With a little snort of pleasure, Gray Dog twisted the cap again, then again. With a whoosh, the cap sprang off and a fountain of dark fluid sprayed into the air. Startled, Gray Dog dropped the bottle. His hand was covered with the sticky stuff. He sniffed, then licked. The liquid tasted sweet as syrup. He retrieved the bottle, held it up and gave it a little shake. There was still some syrup left inside. He wiped sand from the bottle’s mouth and drank. It fizzed like he had a mouthful of bees, swarming even up into his nose. He swallowed. It tasted good, thick and creamy. Couldn’t be some kind of medicine, then. He examined the bottle, which had strange writing and markings on it, but since he couldn’t read, they made no sense to him. He downed the dregs then tossed the empty bottle into the palms. With a satisfied belch, and feeling he’d accomplished a fine night’s work, Gray Dog lay down on his newly acquired checkered blanket and went to sleep.

Okay, for 2010 I'm debating whether to start my own blog site. I know several of you have them, so I was interested in knowing what made you decide to start one, and what sort of satisfaction do you get from posting on it? Do you do it for your own personal enjoyment, or like Mission, to also pass on knowledge and information? I guess the bottom line question is, do you think it is worth the time and effort to set it up and keep it current? Also, since I am not a whiz at the old computer, are they hard to set up? I'd appreciate any input/thoughts you'd all care to share.

Deleted. Accidental double post.

Sounds like fun. I'd be willing to join in.

Chain Shot and I are lucky, in that his sister lives about ten minutes from Disneyland, buys a yearly pass every year, and shops at the private store for Disney employees, Company D, where they sell stuff not available to the public, at special reduced prices (she used to work there, as well as two of her sons). She sent us a whole box full of kewl PotC stuff. Chain Shot got an amazing shirt with very impressive embroidery on both the front and back. I got two T-shirts, and a set of bobble writing pens with Disney characters dressed as pirates along with a skull and a pirate ship. Also, Chain shot got a PotC ball cap, and we both got PotC insulated travel mugs. Oh, and Chain Shot just walked in and informed me that while we were gone the last two days, a very large herd of elk went through our place. Probably on Christmas day. There have not been elk in our neck of the woods for over 20 years, so that is VERY kewl. They were even in our front yard! Dang, and we missed it! Hope they come back!

Hope the day is grand, Salty. Cheers.

Last year here in our county there was a person/persons going around shooting bull elk. They would pick the biggest, healthiest one, shoot it, and leave it. Just leave it. They killed about six or seven that way, and were never caught. I think the only reason they stopped was because the whole county was in such an uproar, they figured everyone would be on the lookout for them, and if they were caught, they would be lynched by an angry mob.

I understand completely. I have had Koi, which I admit are labor intensive, but they are very interactive, and recognize you as well as any dog. Mine would come right up if I walked out on the deck, but when I tried to show them off to strangers, they would hide. Since early summer I have had five feeder goldfish in the old koi pond (a large, Rubbermaid stock tank surrounded with landscape blocks, and edged with slate), and they have done amazingly well. Goldfish are pretty tough. We used to put feeder goldfish in our horse stock tanks to keep the skeeters out of them. We never fed them, and they lived for years, bred new ones, and were just happy little campers. At one point, we had gold fish from small fry, to fat ones about six inches long. I also had one of those Beta fighting fish in a large glass jar on my kitchen counter. His name was Killer, and he had quite the personality. He lived to be over two years old, and when he finally died, I buried him out in my garden. Fish are fun.

A most happy birthday to you, my friend. And I hope you are enjoying your vacation in the land of sun...bring some back and send it to me!!! LOL Cheers!

That's a beautiful tree, Rumba. I like the pyrate stuff, but I really love the seahorse ornaments. Oh, and do you have close-up pictures of your needlework? It looks awesome, but hard to see behind the tree. Is that Luna under the tree waiting to ambush someone? Little devil!

Girly Day?..... Ok, I haven't been to the last two Ojai's... But yer not auctioning off guys dressed as women again are you? <OH yeah... no need to post any of those old photos.... > LOL Sorry, Patrick, no auctions...unless you want to volunteer? This year Jill, Iron Bess, and I decided that Saturday at Ojai is girly-girl day, and those of us ladies who usually dress as guys made girly garb. This ritual included tatter-tots and Chrispy Creme donuts...but we don't wear those, we eat them. Oh and Jill, I LOVE my gift. Actually, it is quite a lovely piece, but when I opened the box, I burst out laughing. Great job!

ROTDALMAO ;) Got my gift today. Gosh, I feel like such a princess!!! LOL And I know just who to thank for it as well. Methinks I will have to wear said item on Girly-Girl day at Ojai next year! What say you, Secret Santa?

Helena followed him, praying the young man wasn’t hurt, and that Tibbits wouldn’t do anything else to provoke Alex. The young man was back on his feet, but his eyes glittered with anger. He started to lunge toward Tibbits, but before he could, Alex stepped between them, then two of the man’s friends grabbed him by the elbows. “That’s enough, Saker. You go off with your mates, here.” Alex had the young man by the shoulders, his blue eyes dark and focused on the angry, bloodshot eyes in front of him. “That fucker called me an drunken fag,” Saker struggled to get free. “I’ll show him who’s a fag.” “Let him go, Captain Blue. Let’s see what the drunken ass can do.” Tibbits taunted. Alex spun around. “I don’t think he’s the drunken ass.” “You got a problem with me enforcing order around here?” Tibbits slid the billy club from its loop on his belt. “Until someone gets out of order, I suggest you keep that club where it belongs.” By now a crowd had circled around them, watching carefully to see what Alex would do. Helena, her heart pounding, pushed her way to Alex’s side. “Alex, don’t. He’s just waiting for you to give him a reason to hit you with that thing.” “She’s right, captain. I’d love to smack you upside the head. Any of you.” His face swiveled around, the mirrored lenses reflecting faces and firelight. Eamon shoved his way through the onlookers and stood on Alex’s other side. “Let it go, Blue. Don’t give him the satisfaction.” “Please, Alex.” Helena took one of his hands. Alex’s eyes never left Tibbits. “If you hurt anyone, I’ll make sure Temp Security hears about it. I’ll make it my personal business to see that you’re fired. Got that?” Tibbits took a slug of beer, and grinned. “You got to get off this island in one piece before you can do that.” Bill stepped forward and looked around at the stunned and silent faces. “You all heard him. This man made a direct threat to Alex.” The crowd nodded and there were mumblings. Bill faced Tibbits. “I’m a lawyer. I’d advise you to watch what you say. Any more threats of that nature, or if any harm comes to Alex, I’ll advise him to take you to court. Do I make myself clear?” Tibbits didn’t say anything. With a lazy pull at his beer and a parting sneer, he turned, the menacing billy club still in his hand. The crowd parted to let him through, and he disappeared into the darkness.

During dinner that evening, and for the hundredth time since the encounter with Tibbits at the beach, Helena wished she hadn’t worn the suit, even though Julia and Christa assured her it wouldn’t have made much difference. She had been thinking of Alex when she bought it, and of how surprised he’d be when he saw it on her. Well, she’d gotten more attention than she’d bargained for. As soon as they had returned to camp, she stripped the thing off, and stuffed the small bits of cloth into the deepest part of one suitcase. She didn’t plan to dig them out any time soon. Eamon, who had been invited to join the group for dinner, looked over at Alex and asked, “What did you think of that little threat Mr. Security Man made before he went off?” With a concerned expression, Bill turned toward Eamon. “What threat?” “Something about not wanting any accidents to happen.” Eamon’s dark eyes stayed on Alex. “Sounds like a threat to me.” Alex frowned. “It makes me wonder if he wasn’t the one behind the thefts last night. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.” “Then I guess the next question is, what are we going to do about him?” Bill leaned back in his chair. “Quite frankly, I give Alex points for not decking the guy after what happened today.” “I’m glad he didn’t,” Helena said. “It would only have made matters worse.” “Unfortunately, it’s pretty clear that just staying away from him isn’t going to work,” Julia said. Christa dropped her half-eaten hamburger back to her plate. “You know, even with a bikini on and a towel around me, Tibbits made me feel like I was standing on the beach buck naked.” Eamon grinned. “Now, that would be a fine sight. Like a mermaid, you’d be.” Christa smiled. “I felt the same way,” Helena remarked. “As if those damned sunglasses give him x-ray vision.” “Maybe we should appoint chaperones for you girls from now on,” Don said. “We could take turns, so at least one of us would be with you all the time.” Helena shook her head. “No. You didn’t pay your money to play nursemaid to us. Besides, we’re not always together in the same place. How are you going to keep track of us?” Julia nodded. “She’s right. Even if we wanted bodyguards, which I, for one, don’t.” “Well, I volunteer to guard this fine wench.” Eamon placed a hand on Christa’s arm. Christa playfully brushed it away. “As if I can’t look out for meself.” “All kidding aside, I think Helena is right. There’s no way we can guard the three ladies all the time.” Alex took a swallow of Guinness, then continued. “I also don’t think the threat applies just to the women. Tibbits is looking for a fight. I don’t know why, or what it is we’ve done to set him off, but I think we all need to be careful.” “I don’t think we’ve done anything. I think it’s just the way he is.” Helena met Alex’s brooding look. “The only way to get rid of him is to contact Temp Security. Unfortunately, that would require recalling the ferry. Not to mention that Tibbits has the only satellite phone on the island.” “Any way we could lock him in his cabin for the next six days?” Bill remarked. “Don’t tempt me,” Alex answered. “Come on.” Arthur rose from his chair. “Let’s head over to the Bilge Rat and see if anyone else had problems with old Tidbits today. If so, then there’s got to be something we can do to get the man off our backs.” “Yeah, like tie a metal ice chest loaded with rocks to his ankles and throw him off the pier,” Christa snarled. “I’ll help find the rocks,” Helena added, got up and, with Alex at her side, followed the rest of the group to the Bilge Rat. The fiddler was already tuning up as they arrived. The bonfire snapped and crackled, throwing sparks into the darkening sky. Four children sat close, roasting marshmallows. A young man wearing nothing but baggy pantaloons and buckle shoes, and who’d obviously had a little too much grog, was dancing an impromptu jig to the accompaniment of a horn pipe. His lobster-colored shoulders and chest gave a glowing hint of the pain he would be in once the alcohol wore off. As the Boca group joined the rest of the PFCers, Helena found herself looking toward the back of the cabana, wondering of Tibbits was lurking in the shadows. She thought she caught a spark of reflected firelight in those mirrored glasses, but couldn’t be sure. The fiddle player and horn piper began a series of rousing reels. Many more people got to their feet and danced, hooting and shouting as they did so. Eamon dragged a laughing Christa up from her place on the sand and they joined the dancers. When Alex met Helena's gaze with a quizzical look, she quickly replied, “Don’t even think about it. I don’t jig.” He winked. “I’ll wait till they play something slower.” At the end of the set, Mad Matilda came forward into the firelight. “As if ye didn’t already know it, which I’m sure ye do, tomorrow be the nineteenth, Talk Like a Pirate Day. There’ll be lots of games and contests ta keep ye occupied, which will be posted here at the pub. Just ta give ye all a hint of what’s commin’, I can tell ye there will be a best pirate costume—lad and lassie and powder monkeys. Also, a rum punch recipe contest,” she looked meaningfully at the sunburned young dancer, “so don’t drink all of yer rum before ye has a chance to enter.” A smiling, middle-aged man wearing thick-lensed glasses asked, “Who’s to be the judge of that one?” “Well, it certainly won’t be you, Blind Eye.” “Nothin’ wrong with me taste buds,” he fired back. “It’s not yer taste buds I be worried about, it’s yer bottomless thirst.” The crowd clapped and hooted. Matilda went on. “There also be a salmagundi contest, which was in yer flyer, so’s ye could scrounge up the ingredients before times. I believe Captain Blue is to be the judge of that one.” Alex made a choking sound and clutched a hand to his throat. “And,” she went on, “there is the always popular best pirate insult and comeback contest—no profanity, mind. Tomorrow night is the Boarding Party here at the Bilge Rat, where we’ll be serving up the punch and salmagundi entries and you can judge for yerselves whether they be fit for pirate consumption or not.” She gave a mock curtsy, and returned to her place on the sand. Helena leaned toward Alex. “What’s salmagundi? It’s not another pudding is it?” He shook his head. “No, it’s a ... well mishmash, made with just about whatever meat a pirate might have on hand—turtle, pork, fish—heavily spiced, and mixed with hard-boiled eggs, anchovies, cabbage ... well, like I said, a mishmash.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll pass on that one.” Alex put his arm around her. “Don’t worry, you won’t find any cut up rats, or dead dog in it. At least, not in these modern versions. Although ....” Helena jabbed him with her elbow. “You’re the judge. You can tell me which one is safe.” “If I haven’t died of terminal acid reflux by then. What will you be doing while I’m tempting death by food poisoning?” “I’m not going to the beach, that’s for sure. Julia, Christa and I are going to enter the costume contest as a threesome—don’t get any ideas about that, either!” Helena laughed as Alex pretended disappointment. “Christa seems to think we have a good chance to win a prize in the group category by portraying hussies.” “That sounds like Christa. Did you plan this ahead of time?” “Christa thought of it, then convinced Julia and me to go along. That was about a month ago, after we all got the flyer for the event with the games and contests posted.” “Who’s the judge?” “I have no idea.” “Maybe I’ll volunteer.” “You can’t. If we won, there’d be a mutiny.” He hugged her closer and whispered in her ear, “Be worth it for a threesome.” She laughed. “I don’t think Eamon would agree with you.” Christa and Eamon had joined the crew of the Merry Death, and it was obvious Eamon was proudly showing off his new acquaintance. Alex sighed theatrically. “Oh, all right, be a spoil sport, but—.” “Shit,” Helena whispered. Tibbits was working his way along the outside of the crowd. Even though it was dark, the sun glasses were still in place. Helena wondered if he slept with them on. When he got close to the Boca group, she noticed he had a beer bottle in one hand. She nudged Alex. “Is he supposed to drink on the job?” “Doubt it, but who’s going to stop him?” “Alex, that man sober is bad enough. Drunk, he could be deadly.” As if taking her comment as a prompt, Tibbits barked something at the young, bare-chested dancer. The boy turned and said something Helena couldn’t hear. Tibbits shoved the kid back. The boy staggered, then fell. His friends came quickly to help him. Tibbits laughed. Alex started to get up, but Helena grabbed his hand. “Wait. If that’s all Tibbits is going to do, then leave it. No one is hurt.” She was sure the security man had done it just to get Alex’s attention. “I can’t stand back and let him get away with that.” Alex shook off her restraining hand, stood, and headed toward Tibbits.

Many happy returns of the day, suh.

I second that. Any updates on these?

I confess, that due to a laundry list of reasons, including power outages which fried the brain in my printer, I will not be getting the two books I have out until after the first of the year. My apologies to Red-Handed Jill and Patrick. Also, Pew has asked that I mind the store while he takes a much deserved vacation, starting Saturday. Any questions you may have, let me know, and please, keep posting updates if you have books still in the round. Hopefully, by the end of January, all the books should be safe in home port.

I can vouch for this recipe. It is KILLER good!!!

Mine and Chain Shot's went out today as well.

Happy Birthday to a most charming FBC. Or is charming curmudgeon an oxymoron? Anyway, hope the day was grand.

My gift and Chain Shots will be going out around the first of next week.

While spending last weekend in Newport, Oregon, one of the places we headed for was the Local Ocean Seafoods restaurant. It used to be an old gas station, so the front doors roll up during summer, affording you an unobstructed view of the marina and commercial docks. The food is wonderful, fresh, and served with a smile. They also have an oyster bar and fish market. The wine and beer are also excellent. If you're ever in Newport and enjoying the outstanding views along Yaquina Bay, stop in and have a bite. You'll be glad you did. Local Ocean Seafoods

A most Happy Natal day to you, Suh. Hope it is grand.

I see ye have a fondness fer mermaids, thar Eyes! Very nice.

Okay, I'm trying this again. If it doesn't work this time, Michael is going throw up his hands in despair. LOL Pew, my friend, I thought you would enjoy this. Took these while Chain Shot and I were in Newport, OR for the weekend. The Source: Rogue Brewery My truck is the white Tundra with the little pyrate stickers in the back window. Kegs, waiting for delivery You never know when you're going to have to make an emergency delivery of Dead Guy Ale to someone out on the water. LOL Main entrance. Ya gotta love a Beerquarium! LOL