Ransom

I stood on the deck of the Rakehell looking out over the harbor. I could just see the Relentless amid all the other ships currently in port. I couldn't see her captain. My first thought, due to my frustration and anger, was to confront Jacky and demand exactly what his feeling were. But, after coming on deck and getting some fresh air, I changed my mind. I didn't think confrontation would work with that man. So I stood looking at his ship and thinking. "Well, what ya waiting for?" Goose, my ship's cook asked. "Thought ya was goin' ta solve yer problem." I turned to face the scrawny man. "You know, Goose, you're advice is about as good as your cooking. I'll handle this, never fear, but picking a fight is not the way to go about it." He shrugged. "'Course, Captain, you'd know best. But, as I told ya, the crew don't like being the brunt of yer foul temper. Might want ta cut us some slack, if'n ya take my drift." "Goose," I flashed him a look, "shut up, and get back to work."

Okay, Ransom left Kingston about an hour after dawn. The Rakehell is now running before the storm somewhere west of Jamaica, trying to head southwest to get around behind it, before being blown all the way to the Gulf of Mexico (too many spaniards that a way!). Last post, I said she'd been out 5-6 hrs, to jive with the La Maligna and Angel just leaving port in the afternoon. Professor Angus Trilby is sitting the storm out in his house. So time of day for him is not an issue. Ioan is currently on the La Maligna, so whatever time they're on, so is he. I was under the impression that it was still only late afternoon. Storm getting worse.

Goose came into my cabin unannounced, plunked a cup of tea on my desk, and stood glaring down at me. "What?" I snapped, in no mood for his moods. "Ya been mopin' around for days now. Bitin' everyone's head off, lookin daggars at every word." "And your point is?" I growled, knowing he was telling the trueth. "Well, me and the crew was hopin' ya could work it out, and quit bein' so sharp like. Ya been like this ever since ya come back from the Relentless. If someone insulted ya, then let's give um a broadside, and ha done with it." That made me smile. "No, I've not been insulted. Just...brushed off." "Who would be so reckless? And, are they still alive?" I laughed. "Oh yes, very much alive. Not reckless, I think. Cautious." "Well, whatever be the problem, ya'd best work it out, or the rest o' us might think about jumpin' ship." I took a sip of the tea, which Goose had laced with rum. "Yes, you're right. I better work it out. Can't hardly sail the Rakehell by myself." Goose nodded his scrawny head. "Knew ifn I had a chat, things would be better." Then he left me in peace. I took another sip of the tea, put down the delicate cup, and stood. "Right, best work this thing out, not sit around fuming about it. If I don't get the answer I want, then I'll give um a broadside alright, but it'll have nothing to do with cannons."

Malcontent

Gives Jacky a big wide grin. "Where are those articles? Where's a pen? Where do I sign?"

Candle flame and old papers rustled in the ghost-like draughts, as Trilby, with the feline form of Cleopatra hunched in his lap, listened to the storm rage. Shutters rattled, and somewhere outside something clanged, crashed, and was silent. Souris cowered in a corner, his ten year old form scrunched into another padded chair. Trilby read aloud, attempting to sooth the fear he saw on the young boy's face, but the tragic fall of Troy didn't seem to have much effect, although Cleopatra seemed to like the tale. When something heavy crashed against the front door, the boy jumped and fell out of his chair, then rushed to hide himself in the heavy folds of Trilby's worn scholar's gown. "Nae fret, boy, tis only somethig flung from the street. A barrel most like. There'll be nae telling what we'll find against the house when this passes by. If we're lucky, that barrel will be filled with fine Port." Another crack of thunder rattled the beakers and jars in the study. One small vial tipped off the bookshelf and shattered. "Blast," Trilby said, eyeing the mess, "there goes the last of mae graveyard dust."

Guess that would depend on where ya wore the eyepatch

With myself on one side, and Africa on the other, we struggled to hold the ship's wheel steady to the course. The Rakehell, heeled over in the wind, and with waves bursting over her bow, fled before tha gale, which howled around us like a beast from hell. I had no idea of the time, as the sky was dark as slate, with no sign of sun or star. Nor could I see any sign of land or cay, and I knew the fear of running aground haunted us all. After what seemed like days of struggle, but was probably only five or six hours, the wind, though still strong, shifted slightly, as if the Rakehell, like a wooden missle in a sling-shot, had been flung from the edge of the storm to safer waters. Shouting over another burst of thunder, I ordered Africa to head South Southwest, hoping we could cut around and come up behind the hurricane before we were blown all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.

"Can't I just shoot 'em? I've had some Japanese sword trainin', but alas no cutlass trainin'." Wasn't the cutlass at your side I was referrin' to. Maybe I shoulda said, "How good are ya with yer weapon?"

I think, way back when we first started, I asked if someone could play "calender" and keep track of what day it was. I tend to get a bit panicked when I've been playing it as daytime, then the next person comes in and says, "in the darkness of night" sort of thing. I know it's hard, especially with so many characters spread out over so much territory - ships at sea, people in port, people inland - but it might be nice to clarify it once and a while. We could post it on this thread so it wouldn't distract from the story. And Chole, thanks for the pyrate weather cam update!

I second that, Luv. Pretty please.

My husband has been a truck driver since he was 16. For awhile he did OTR with his own rig. He's hauled everything from yaghts (?) to chicken eggs. Now he stays in state and drives for a loca pet supply company, so, although he drives all over Oregon, he's only gone over night once a week. The rest of the time he's home nights after 12-14 hr days. He can get a tractor-trailer into places I wouldn't think I could get my Tundra. So, I know where you're comming from, Hitman.

"Aye, I thought we was on the honeymoon! As fer signin', ye want t' sign sign fer goods, ye haven't seen? Ye better check, how tall I'm not (on the thread, 'What size do you like...)." Jacky walks around, and inspects his cyber bride to be, "But yer offer deserves serious consideration." Well, as you've never seen me either, we both might be buying a pig-in-a-poke. But we seem ta get along famously, so that's a plus. Ya make me laugh, and that's a real plus, and ya romance me with romantic dinners and songs, so, what more could a girl ask...except maybe...how good are ya with a cutlass?

The outdoor guys stay outdoors, and hang out at the barn. We live on 20 acres, so they have lots of room. It's only the five spoiled brats that live indoors 24/7. Yeah, I deal with cat hair, but so do dog lovers. Doesn't anyone else deal with animal hair?

Like Silky, I've dated men of various heights and ages. My first husband was two years older than me, 5'9", and slight of build - he was a marathon runner. After we split up, I dated a guy 14 years youger than me, who was 6' and slender - met him in the SCA. We dated for four years. The man I'm married to now - just had our 16th wedding anniversary - is ten years younger than me, is 6'2" and weighs around 185 - very fit. I've dated guys who were pretty hot looking, only to find out they thought so too. So, while it's true the "package" might be what attracts your attention, it's what's inside the package that counts. (Oi, and by "package" I mean the outside image, not that other "package" men refer to )

No, I let them bath themselves. But, can you imagine how much cat hair I deal with? Everywhere!

You know what happens when ya play a country song backwards? Ya get your dog back, your truck back, your house back, and your girl back.

Maybe they kept a bucket of seawater handy, sos you could clean yourself off. They had to have done something, 'cause ya never see pictures of guys with big stains on the seat of their slops.

I give Patrick a big grin, and raise my hand. "Hey, does 5' 6'' , 117 lbs, and a 34 A qualify? Although, I don't know about the mellow hip thing. Not exactly sure what ya mean by mellow."

Why, Mr. Tarr, is that a cyber proposal of pyracy partnership? Must we sign articles? If so, I promise not ta kill ya the first night, and I'll hire a taster for yer all yer drinks. So, when does the pyrate honeymoon start?

If you're not a cat lover, you'll be appalled to hear, that all five are strictly indoor cats. And, I have an ever-changing number of outdoor cats, depending on who has dumped them "out in the country." Currently I think the barn cat number is around ten. I know, I know, I'm a sucker for um. Some I find homes for, some I keep, some wander off. The ones I can catch, I have fixed. Also, we get out cat and dog food for free, though where my husband works, so that helps...A LOT.

As in, "Come on up to my room and I'll show you my etchings." Sorry Doc, but I think that scam has been tried before! Better find a web cam, like the lady said.

Personal views expressed. Foxe's point taken. I bow out with grace.

Welcome, Atrice. Since you're buying, I'll be drinking. A glass of French bubbly with a shot of Tattoo, if you please, Ray. And another log on the fire sounds good to me, it's cold and rainy in the Pacific NW. Cheers