Ransom

In Grants Pass, Or, is has been 100-112 all last weekend into the week. And we don't have AC in our house. Which is why my mate and I bailed out for the coast. Trouble was, so did everyone else in the state (known world?). We were in Charleston Saturday "careening" our boat, then headed north (by truck) to Newport. The traffic on the coast hwy was a nightmare. Newport was a tourist cattle-call, and even the Newport Aquarium was so crowded, you could barely see the exibits. Sigh. We had a room within walking distance of the Bay Front, so hoofed it most places. I think we walked about 20 miles in two days. But, the weather was perfect—78 degrees, sunny, light breeze, and a bit of fog at night and early morning. We left the door to the tiny deck off our room open all night, so we could enjoy the cool air and listen to the sound buoy. Ahhhh! The 5+ hour ride home was nasty—no AC in the truck either. Felt like a limp washcloth by the time we got home. Temps still in the high 90s low 100s. Anyone STILL not believe in global warming??????

Ummm, gee, this is going to sound like a cheap soap opera, but, here goes... I met my husband through a mutual friend during an SCA event. Unforetunately, before we realized that we were perfect for each other, he was engaged to that friend. Since he is a man of honor, he kept to the engagemant and I was a participant in their huge SCA wedding on horseback—which he now refers to as "The circus". This was truely a match made in hell, and a classic example of a guy who thought "If I just marry her, things will get better." NOT (It was her third marriage, the previous two lasting less than a year, which should have been a hint.) When it became clear that nothing he did would ever be good enough, and it was very clear we were soul mates, I told him, "Time to make a decision, 'cause I'm not doing anything I couldn't do at high noon on the library steps, until you do." A week later, after a day-long harang ( I was a witnes to four hours of it), that continued into the late hours, I got a call at 3 am. "Come and get me, I walked out and I'm at a phone booth in...) I picked him up, and we've been together ever since. We have been married 15 1/2 happy years. Oh, and did I mention I was forty when we met, and that he is ten years younger than me? Life is good! We both got pretty burnt out with the SCA, but like pyracy. However, with no other pyrates in our area, it's hard to play the game. Neither of us really has any pirate garb, but we're working on it!

My husband and I own a wee 24' Bayliner Trophy—but I'd hardly call it a yacht. We use it more as a motel room than a boat, mainly cause the engine needs a tune-up. We're currently looking for something a bit bigger—with a bathroom. Those 10pm hikes to the marina bathroom get to be real old! We're pulling it out of the water this weekend, for its yearly "careening."

Even with all the choices at Pyrates Way, I still like Patrick's "Pyrates aren't PC, with his signature "Thumb yer nose" jolly roger. Patrick, if ya ever decide ta let someone print it, or print it youself, I'll be in line with silver in me hand! It just says it all.

With a private grin, I replied, "Ah, Ana. I'd know that voice anywhere. Welcome aboard the Rakehell." I motioned for Ioan to put away his knife, but whispered in his ear, "Keep those two men in the boat entertained until my little meeting with the Captain of the Resurrection is over." "If you haven't noticed, we're a bit low on rum," his whispered back. "Just what am I supposed to entertain them with?" "Water it down, man! And if you so much as breath on my last barrel of Burgundy, you better slit your own throat, before I do it for you. Understood?" "Aye, My lady Captain." Before the first head appeared at the rail, I gave Ioan one last order. "And keep them from wondering around below decks. We may not have much cargo left, but what we do have is our business." With a knowing wink, he turned his attention to our guests. I prepared to greet my visitor, letting out a soft sigh of regret over the fact that, what little rum I possessed of my private stash would no doubt be gone by evening's end. I hoped this meeting would be worth it.

There was a knock on my cabin door. "Enter," I said, getting to my feet. Ioan opened the door and stuck his head in. "Someone has come along side, asking to permission to come aboard. Were you expecting visitors?" "That was quick," I muttered, without answering his question, then headed for the deck. When I got there, I peered over the side. It was too dark to be sure of the boat's occupant. The last thing I needed was some stranger snooping around the ship. I wanted to make sure it was Ana below in that boat, and not some spy. If it was her below, her speedy reply could be a good sign or a bad one. She was either as worried about discovery as I was, or already had some scheme going and didn't want me meddling in it. In either case, I would have to tread carefully. Ladies of the trade we might be, but as I'm sure she has learned over time, no one can be trusted, especially those you might consider friends. Well, I thought, I won't know 'till she comes on board—if it is her. I motioned for Ioan to have his knife ready, and he nodded, pulling it from his belt. "Who goes?" I whispered into the darkness.

Tis a sad story of indifference, that turned out well, concidering the life I would have ended up with. Born of minor nobility with an estate in Suffolk, I am the youngest of seven children, and to make matters worse, the youngest of five girls. When returning from a trip to visit an aunt in Italy, our ship was taken by pirates. The captain, figureing to make a fine ransom from my father, held me on board until a note could be sent and replied to. While the Captain waited for my father's reply, he put me to work. Odd thing was, I liked it, and the life on board. I took to it, you could say, like a fish to water. When the ransom arrived, it was discovered my father had paid in false coin. I have always assumed it was because he felt one less daughter he had to scrounge a dowry for, was to his good. In any case, the Captain gave me the name False Ransom in an attempt to shame me. Since by that time I had no intention of going back to the life of a broodmare, which would have been my fate, I kept the name, and kept to the trade. Eight months later, when my Captain took a neat two masted schooner, he decided to be rid of me, as I was becoming too great a distraction to the crew, and I secretly believe he was afraid I would garrot him in his sleep. He gave it to me. I changed the name from Anna Maria, to the Rakehell. Some of the captain's crew chose to sail with me. Since then I have sailed wherever the wind or the whim takes me.

After a long day wandering Port Royal, mainly to get my bearings and pick up any gossip, I discovered the town was abuzz with activity and rumor. The most important recent event being the destruction of the Oxford, and the death of most of her crew. Apparently there had been a well-attended church service only a day or so ago. Better the Rakehell arrived in port too late for my attendance, as I feel sure lightening would have struck me should I have stepped one booted toe over that sanctified threshold. I have also picked up news that the Captain of the Archangel is ill from some fever, and that a woman friend of his was doused with a chamber pot. I had to grin at this, for I know who the lady was, from having seen her in London, before my exile. I could only imagine what a thunderstorm that act had caused. Of Admiral Morgan, I've seen nothing, but heard he was gathering ships for some great act of war against the Spanish. Not wanting the Rakehell involved in that venture, I played the innocent, if that's possible after all I've lived through and witnessed, and did not let on I was the captain of the sleek little schooner so recently arrived. On returning to the ship, I was pleased to find Ioan already back on board. He informed me he'd made arrangements for revictualling, but that it was going to cost more than I had bargained—or had purse for. "Blast and damn!" I snapped in frustration. "We need coin, Ioan, or we'll be stuck in this port long enought for old Morgan to press us into service for his grand adventure. Ioan shrugged. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Maybe he'd pay the merchants off for us, if we joined him." I looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "I'd prefer to make a few "acquisitions" of our own, before I turn my ship over to Morgan. "You're the captain," he replied with a mock salute. "Careful, Ioan. Don't push my patience too far. You won't live to regret it." As he gave me a more dutiful salute and walked away, I turned my gaze out to sea. What caught my eye gladdened my heart. How could I have missed it before? The Resurrection. What, I wondered, could Ana be doing here? Retreating to my cabin, I quickly took out pen, ink and paper, and wrote her a quick note. My dear Ana, what ever can you be doing in Port Royal? Due to our mutual stock in trade, I am only too glad to see your lovely ship, and feel we should meet. It has been what, a year since last we drank together? I confess, I am in sore need of a bit of "income" for revictualling, so wondered if perchance we two ladies of the trade might discuss business over a few tankards. What say you? Ransom On board the Rakehell Returning to the deck, I yelled with impatience, "Goose, you devil, where are you?" "Here, Captain." Goose scurried out of the galley, his shirt smeared with the night's meal. "Take this note over to the Resurrection, yonder." I pointed to the impressive vessel. "Quick now." "Aye, Captain." He pulled at his wisp of a forelock, and rushed off to do my bidding. I returned to my cabin, eagerly awaiting Ana's reply.

OOC Aplogies. Amend "he" to "Also, the Admiral...". Brain and hand were not in sync!

The Rakehell arrived quietly at the North Docks two hours after midnight. Even at that late hour, I could see lights in windows and hear laughter from the many taverns. As expected, we were greeted by a King's soldier, who inspected the ship. I needn't have worried, as it was a slipshod business. A fine bottle of Burgundy from my private stash was more than enough incentive for him to leave the ship without asking too many questions about our previous whereabouts and our current business. Before retiring to my small cabin, I commanded all hands to stay on board until daylight. I wanted news of the town before turning my crewe loose. I was up on deck at dawn. To my left, I could see what Ioan informed me was Fort James. Across from the docks I saw many buildings and warehouses, and a main street. My inspection was interrupted by the Dock Master, hustling toward us to see who the new arrival was. I sighed and prepared to prevaricate. He came aboard toting a sheaf of papers and a wide grin. "Good morrow, good morrow, sir. Welcome to Port Royal." "Good morrow to you," I replied, amused at his surprise when he realized he was addressing a woman and not a man. "Well, yes, err, madame," he blustered. "It's miss," I informed him. Behind me, Ioan gave a snort of amusement. "Of course, my apologies—miss. What business have you in Port Royal?" "I come to buy provisions, and may hap take on cargo. Our stay will be a short one." I met his quizzical look with one of bland indifference, hoping to stave-off closer inquiry into our business. "Could you recommend to me what merchants have dealings with the colonies?" "Oh, certainly. Port Ryal merchants have dealings all over the world. Go to the Merchant's Guild and they will direct you. They can also direct you to those who can victual your ship." He fussed with paper and quill and produced an ink bottle from his pocket. "Just pay the dock fee, sign this paper and give the name of your ship, and all will be well." "What of the governor? Do I pay my respects, or is this sufficient?" I handed back the paper, and gave him the required fee. "Oh, the Governor will be glad of anther ship in Port Royal. He is talking to all the captains about some great adventure. Do present yourself to him." Then, like a bustling little beetle, he was off the ship and disappeared into the town. I turned to Ioan. "What do yo think old Morgan is talking to the captains about?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't venture to guess, but I doubt it's something we want to get involved in." I looked around the docks, noticing several fine ships, including one called the Archangel. "Give the men leave to go ashore. You go to the Merchant's Guild and arrange for provisions. What's the best tavern for gossip?" He grinned and gave me a name. I cocked an eye. "Then, when you've finished with the merchants, look for me there. May hap we can avoid falling into trouble before it finds us." Ioan winked. "Aye, My Lady Captain."

I stand at the bow of the Rakehell, resting my elbows on the rail. The air is sultry, and carries the scents of civilization—roasting meats, ripe vegetation, rank streets, and animal and human excrement. Even in the midnight darkness it tells me that Port Royal is close, a point off the larboard bow and maybe two leagues out. I wrinkle my nose in distaste at the prospect of a week or more stay in that place, wondering if anyone will recognize me or my ship. Unfortunately, it is a risk I must take, as provisions are too low to sail further. Goose, my piss-pot excuse for a cook, has been sniveling for days over the lack of provender. It's all wind. He was not named Goose because he knows how to cook one, but because he's as stupid as one. I turn my head as I sense Ioan come up behind me. "Yes." Without asking permission, he joins me at the rail. "All's ready to make port, My Lady Captain." Since coming on board at Charles Town, he has called me "My Lady Captain". I am still not sure if he means it out of respect, or is politely teasing me. I hope the former, as I'll have none of the latter. "Very well. Are you familier with this town, Ioan?" He hesitates, then says, "A bit, but that was three years ago." "What know you of it?" He grins, his teeth white in the moonlight. "That every kind of vice is available to those as can pay for it. That, if he's not careful, a man is likely to come away with the pox, an empty purse, and a few new scars." I cock an eye. "And a woman?" That makes him smile. "Ah, I'd be havin' no experience of that, so I dare not say." "Naturally, " I reply and turn my gaze bck into the darkness, wondering what awaits us in this town, of which I have heard so much and know so little.

I'll keep the green lantern on for ya, in case ya change your mind.

Now, Jack, no need to go off in a huff. And I hope you weren't refering to me as a troll! I can heed both your advice. I'll greet the officials to save my ship from undo attention, but there's no saying I can't light the green lantern and look for good Mr. Broadmore and give him your best regards—both verbal and physical.

You can stop that?????? Who knew?

Advice taken.

Thank you, Capt. Sterling. I be not so very new to the pub, but not a regular—the mundain world, you know. But I will heed your good advice. I do have a question. I intend my ship to arrive in Port Royal at night. Would there be anyone of an official nature to report to at that hour—say around midnight? Who would that person be, and would there be a dock fee, forms to fill out, etc.?

This is merely a humble request for patience, as this is my first attempt at true role-play. If I take a mis-step, please let me know in this thread. I look to the rest of you for guidance, and info. I do have Pepy's Diary, and the The Pirates Own Book to use as reference, not to mention the sites listed in this thread. I wish our library had the book on Port Royal, but I doubt it. I'll check. I look forward to the adventure. Ransom

I'm having a POTC 1 viewing at my house for my family—who are not so much into pirates, but want to see the old one before they see the new one. Then I will don my pyrate boots, my offical POTC tank top (from Disney Anaheim), meet my family at the theater, and watch the new one. I told my husband that he might as well buy two sets of tickets, as I'll watch it for the first time, then get right back in line to watch it again! Can't wait.

Rudd Worthylake Thornbures House, Suffolk Dearest Brother, It gave me the greatest pleasure to find your letter waiting for me in Boston. I had not known if my letters to you had made the long journey home. Home. How strange that word seems to me now. How long has it been since last I was there? In trueth, so much has happened to me in those two years, it feels more like a hundred. Do you write in secret? I know our father would toss my letters into the fire if he knew we were corresponding. Yet, had he not paid my ransom in false coin, I would never have known this vagabond life. The captain who held me gave me the name False Ransom as a jest, thinking to shame me as he put me to work. It is the name I go by now, so as to bring no shame to our family. As I wrote you, I have my own ship now. A fine schooner, The Rakehell. She's sleek and quick as a cat, and more home to me than ever that pile Thornbures was. I only hope you can escape from under father's thumb someday and sail with me. It is a dangerous life, but a free one. I must also tell you that I have taken on a new first mate, as old Mica fell to some fever while we were in Boston. A fine man named Ioan, of a Welsh family. He joined the crewe in Charles Town. I should rather say he escaped with us, as he was in much haste to depart. He has not relayed to me the whole of the tale, but it doesn't signify. We are all escapees on board. Besides, I find this black-haired handsome devil my equal in intellegence and wit, and our sparing contests are becoming legend with the rest of the crewe. Yet, he is smart enough to know, woman or no, I am still the Captain. That is the great thing about the sea. A woman can make her own way, instead of being married off and used as a broodmare by her husband, until wornout into an early grave. I sail to Port Royal next, hoping to find safe harbor for a time. Henry Morgan is governor there, and since he has plied the trade, mayhap he will be tollerant to those who still do. We are in such sore need of supplies, due to our quick departure from Charles Town, that even the rats look hungry. The last ship we took was nothing more than a poor fishing boat, and they had little to spare. We took what fish they had caught, a little rum, and stripped the boat of her sails to use as spares, but we let the crew go. If you would reach me, send your letters to Port Royal. And if you can spare it, I would be most grateful if you could forward also some coin. I have but a little left, and until I put to sea again, and can find a more worthy ship to take, I will be hard pressed to pay for victualing the ship. I remain your loving sister, Ransom From on board the Rakehell Three days out from Charles Town

I want to see the hen that layed them! Yikes.

Years ago when I worked at B. Dalton Bookstore, a woman returned a hardback book. When asked why, she informed us that the book was boring. Another woman had just seen the movie Excaliber, and asked what book it was based on. I told her La Mort d'Arthur by Mallory, and showed her the book. She wanted to know what he had written recently. I politely told her that he too busy being dead to write more books. When I was in the SCA, my boyfriend and I were in a liquor store, in costume, and a guy came in and asked us if we worked there. Ony thing I could figure, was he thought we were doing some kind of promo for the store.

Fill 'er up.

^ Me husbad, the Captain of me heart. > I have WAY too many cats V Favorite pyrate movie, other than POTC

Maybe ya should get the kind of keys that have a little beeper built in, sos ya could find um?

Might it be due to all that bacon ya been eating? Or doesn't that count, 'cause it's a different thread?