Ransom

Sold quite a few postcards or women?

Hopefully, better late than never. Happy Natal Day, Mr. Lasseter. May your sea's be calm ones and your rum bottle never empty.

I see Striker's face light up like a Guy Fawkes bonfire. "Ah, Striker, you love-sick puppy. I believe there will be a fourth joining us for our late night supper." Gives him a once over. "Better put a comb through that hair lad, and wipe the cracker crumbs off your chin."

See's Jacky eyeing my less than girly attire. "Surely, Jacky, you don't expect me to don such flippery! I'd feel like a fish out of water, tripping over skirts and all. The closest I get to women's dress is a bodice. Why, what would me crew say if I came back to the Rakehell looking like...like...a lady! Takes the cup of Port. "But I see your point, if you can get a good price for the goods." Gives him a sly grin. "May hap you could charge Tess double, and buy Striker some clothes of his own?"

Gives Jacky a penetrating look and a wry smile. "And since when have you appointed yourself dressmaker to the Pub ladies—or should I say, dress provider?" Looks over at Striker, still wearing clothes also provided by Jacky. Sighs. "Okay, I guess you're an equal opportunity clothes provider." I pick up a cracker and toss it into my mouth. Trying not to spit crumbs, I ask, "Anything to wash this snack food down with?"

True, we don't have "ranks", but we are all Port Royal Players. That's more the designation I was thinking of when I posted the idea. :)

Although not a real "must have", for $5 at a used bookstore, yesterday I scored a hardback copy of "Return to Treasure Island and the Search for Captain Kidd", by Barry Clifford and Paul Perry. It documents the search for the Adventure Galley off Saint Mary Island that Clifford did for the Discovery Channel, while also giving a nice account of Kidd's history. I'm already about half way though it, and it's pretty interesting, especially the island natives who swear that some who have seen the ghosts of pirates later died.

I shake my head. "No, gents, Jane doesn't need refining. She's just fine the way she is." Lowers a brow at Striker. "I'd say you're the one that needs a bit of refining, if you're silly enough to gamble with the likes of Tess. She's probably been playing cards since the cradle. Fleeced you like a yealing lamb." Smiles at Spoons as he sets down the platter. "Thank you, this looks nice."

I've gotten over the need to get Shite-faced. I'm more into savoring. Less wear and tear on the old bod!

I guess if you wanted to get it really authentic looking, the next time you BBQ a steak, before you throw it on the grill, give the ends of your cat a rub!

As Trilby began to doze off, I decided to return to the Rakehell. Only Cleopatra saw me go. When I was once again aboard my ship, I noticed that, even though Ioan was gone, the crew still wore sullen looks. No doubt over the penance of no rum for another two days. I greeted Africa, who informed me that all had been quiet during my absence, and that Tunny was on duty guarding the cannon. I nodded, and retired to my cabin. It was hot and stuffy compared to the coolness of Trilby's rooftop, but I was tired, and still wearing my clothes, fell asleep within moments of laying down. My last thoughts were of the mysterious Andre', and what devil's bargain he might demand—and if I'd be willing to pay it.

Wow, Rats, hope you're on the mend. Can't have the good doctor getting sick on us!

Debauchery

Naughty, naughty!

True...very clever indeed...though, I am probably the only one that doesn't have photoshop or some type of photo design program!... Couldn't do it if I tried. Don't feel bad, why do you think I don't have either an avatar or a signature? I am working on an avatar, though, and signed up with photobucket. I'm very computer challanged, so it takes me awhile to figure things out. Plus I have a Mac, so instructions for a PC don't help me.

Ioan grinned when he saw the pistol. "My name's Ioan. I used to be first mate on a ship called the Rakehell. A night back, a fellow named Jack slipped onto the ship looking for Killingsworth. He told me you'd pay top dollar to have the man returned to you. That's my original reason for being here, but I've since learned that Killingsworth is dead, and that you were seen running through the streets like some love-sick trollop, wanting to know where the body had gone. Very curious." He walked toward her, the pistol barrel within a foot of his chest. "I thought if you were the kind of lady to employ someone like that Jack fellow, you might have other employment opportunities." He slowly pushed away the pistol. "If I was a threat to you, you'd already be dead by now. I'd prefer to talk, and I hate talking with someone who's pointing a pistol at my chest. I promise, I mean you no harm. I want your coin, not your person."

I think you are a bloody pirate. Hey, I admitted it right up front—I pinched the idea! Never said I wasn't a pirate! It was just a thought, thrown out like bait to see if anyone would bite. No worry if no one thinks it's worth it. I just think it looks cool on all the Watch Dog signatures.

Hey, I just had a thought (yikes, scary I know). Actually, it is an idea I pinched from the Watch Dog thread (Pirate!). All the crew of that thread have a notation in their signature that they are ".... of the Watch Dog." Gunner of the Watch Dog, Quartermaster of the Watch Dog, etc. So, I thought it might be kinda neat to have something similar for the Port Royals. Any ideas for a name we could all use? Maybe even come up with a logo design? Then we could add it to our signatures. What say you? R BTW, if you think this idea is a load of bilge, say so!

It's gone because, in the summer there's Mojitos, and in the winter there's Tattoo in Herseys French Vanilla hot chocolate. Oh, and those tasty grogtinis too.

We walked in darkness back to Trilby's house. As he pulled a heavy door key from the folds of his robe, from across town could be heard the rapport of a pistol, then a moment later, another. Trilby paused, shook his head, then went on about opening the door. From what I had learned of the layout of the town, the sound seemed to be coming from the vicinity of the Shipp Tavern. "Is Port Royal always so riotous? First a ship is blown up, then an assassination attempt made on Morgan, murder of a maid at the Shipp, the apparent shooting and possible death of Captain Sterling, the bizarre kidnapping and branding of Killingsworth, and now more shots fired across town. It's a wonder any of you live past a week." We entered his dark house and Trilby fussed with a lantern. The wavering light sent pagan shadows dancing around the walls, bringing his motley assorment of artifacts into luring display. With a slam, he shut the door and re-locked it, then headed for the stairs to the rooftop patio. "Port Royal has always been a rowdy place," he groused, "but it seems tae be getting worse lately." We climbed the stairs, Cleopatra slinking between my booted feet to pass us. When we reached the roof, the cat leaped to one of the chairs, kneaded into shape its thick cushion, then hunched with front legs tucked under chest, green eyes staring at us. I relaxed into the same ornate carved chair I'd occupied earlier. "How long do you think it will be before Andre' contacts you?" Professor Trilby picked up the cat, sat in her chair, then put her on his lap. She settled with more kneading then continued to stare at me, as did Trilby. "When he's good and ready, and nae before." "I have a ship and men to atted to. Cordial as your hospitality has been, I can't wait around here for days." "How bad do yea want tae be rid of that cannon? How bad do yea need food, water and rum for that devil ship of yours? Do yea have any other plan or money for getting such? I'd say yea have nae choice but tae wait." "You're right, of course, but you don't have to gloat over the fact." Trilby grinned, the lantern light making his teeth look like aged harpsicord keys. "I ne'r gloat, but I do enjoy watching an arrogant lass forced tae sit back on her haunches and bide by someone else's rules."

Jacky hears the cook address Ransom, and turns, "Spoons, put on yer spectacles and introduce yer self to lady Ransom, the Captain of the Rakehell. "Don't feel bad, Spoons, it's a comom mistake—a non-gender specific name, boyish figure, boyish clothes. But, make it a second time, and oooh, that might get you in trouble." Watches Striker march up the gang plank. "Well, you're looking natty. Try not to lose your clothes again, we're running out of spares—and hats!" Turns back to Spoons. "If you're going to fix us something, you don't need to make a lot. We've been eating and drinking for about three pages, so a light snack will be fine." Pauses, thinks a bit, then turns to Jacky. "My apologies. Force of habit. It's your ship, you give the orders."

I like cats, so I love the one peeking out from under the table cloth in the first painting.

"Then you better find a bigger barrel." I point to a large packing crate. "Maybe that would allow you a little more coverage until Jacky gets back"

My sides nearly split from laughing as Jacky bolts off to grab Striker some clothes. Striker hides behind a barrel, but it's a small one, and his lily-white rear shines in the moonlight. "My dear Striker, pull in your stern, man, you're blinding me!"

"Seems I have a habit of doing that. Something I need to work on, I guess. Or maybe it's just that you're so...interesting...and a bit mysterious, that I get it wrong sometimes. Bear with me, Ransom is a work in progress, and still a little rough around the edges.