Ransom

Myabe Patrick needs to write a cookbook. "The Pyrate's Rum and...(insert word/food of choice)....Cookbook." or "1,000 Things Whot Go Good With Rum — In 'em or with 'em." Front cover: Patrick eating rum cinnamon toast and drinking hot chocolate with rum. Bubble over his head says "Dang.....that's good!"

Hey, what's wrong with being a crazy cat person? (Says the owner of five indoor cats, and about...oh, maybe eight outdoor barn cats, 'cause people dump them at our place and I won't let them starve, so take them to the vet — if I can catch them — and get them fixed, and try to find them homes, or let them stay if I can't). Bottom line, Sam is a dead-on cutie-pie, and no one with a heart would have been able to resist. Don't you know, cats pick their owners, not the other way around? That little guy was in the parking lot for a reason! And that reason was you and Maeve. Enjoy!

I gave Red Cat a wink at Nate's comment. "All in good time, Mr. Durant. As for your fine sword, I'll stow it in my cabin. When you want it, just ask, and I'll return it to you." I gave them both a mock-stern look. "Now, back to work, the both of you. Today we get rid of this cargo and with luck, will be out of Havana by tomorrow. Which is none too soon, as far as I'm concerned." Taking the fancy Spanish sword, I returned to my cabin and hid it in my sea chest. Then I returned topside to help with the preparations for unloading.

^ Well, shells, naturally, but also, sea glass, bottles, bits of rope, driftwood, bird bones, and, unfortunately, garbage and on shore, transient camps. Tide-pooling is one of my favorite things to do on the coast. You never know what you'll find under the stones or along the tide line, especialy after a storm. < Ah, the holidays. Guilt central. I long ago quit trying to please everyone, and figure as long as Chain Shot and I are happy, life is good. V Are you a fair or foul weather beachcomber, or does it matter?

Disarrono on the rocks — in honor of Red Cat turning imortal.

I shrugged. "I had nothing specific in mind, only thought that if you hung on to it, at some future date, you might want to trade it for something you like better. I don't know your wants, Mr. Durrant. Maybe you have none, other than a warm bed and a full stomach. But the sword is valuable, and before you make a gift of it, I thought you should consider all alternatives."

Outstanding job, Kenneth! It's nice that it's sparce and looks like a real room of the period, not a "movie set" overdone job. Love the compass on the ceiling. Well done, indeed!

I examined the offered sword for a moment, then looked at Nate. "Are you sure you want to give this to me? After all, Navarro gifted it to you. It's a pretty thing, and even if you didn't wish to keep it, you could sell it for a tidy sum, or trade it for something you could use." Then I gave him a grin. "And if I do take this gift, don't think that's going to earn you added favors or less work. So, still want to part with it?"

YES, Elizabeth was super! Costumes, wigs, her hats/headpieces...! And, Clive Owen.....weeeel, I'd follow him to the New World, long as he kept dressing like that! Rented Wuthering Heights this week. It's an old movie, with Ralph Fiennes and Juliet Binoche, but wow, is it great. I saw a short bit of this back in June while staying the night with Flintlock Jack and Aurore, because she wanted to show me the killer leather (? we still aren't sure) long coat Heathcliff makes his entrance in. OMG !!! We were both lusting after that coat, and Aurore swears she's going to try and make one.

Welcome back indeed, Siren! I'd offer ya a pint or two myself, but I don't think your doctor would recommend it. I've fought the Big C twice, and won, but it might be like adding fuel to a fire, and you don't need that! So, since I can't donate blood, let me buy you a drink — something fortifing — Bloody Mary?

Hey... I've...... eeergh.... Well a friend of mine saw that movie...... And told me alla bout it...... (yah.... that's it.... it was a friend that saw that movie....) Sure, and that's what they all say. (Starts rumaging through Patrick's pirate DVD collection.......Mupet Treasure Island, POTC 1 & 2, Cutthroat Island, Black Beard, Hook,...........Ah HA!)

When I finally came out on deck, all work came to a sudden stop. My crew stared at me, most smirking, or giving me winks. A goofy smile was plastered on young Jimmy Cox's face as he nuckled his forehead. "Sleep well last night, Ma'am?" Anger would not work in this circumstance, so I grinned back. "Better than you lot. Now, if your done gawking at me, get back to work. We unload our cargo today, and I don't want any slip ups." They all laughed heartily, and went back to their tasks with a will.

Cabernet in a box!...I know, I know, but it's a tight month!

Rain — again — still.

Despite the pain, I glared at him. "What, so they could render me down and I'd end up in one of your little experiments?" Trilby scratched his bearded chin. "Nae, I'd hae yea ground into sausage and feed yea tae Cleopatra." "I'd make her sick." "Nae doubt." He stared at me a moment, then said. "Yea've a lot of marks on that body of yours. Now yea 've another tae add tae your collection. Who did it?" "A man who will pay for his poor aim. As for the rest of the marks, they are evidence of a hard life, and a barren vessel." "Barren?" "You can't be beaten to within an inch of your life and not suffer consequences. A well-placed kick to the vitals left me unalbe to provide any man, grand or otherwise, with an heir." He leaned back in his chair. "Yea could hae chosen another life." "Not really." Africa entered the room, his face blank of expression. Fighting the desire to go back to sleep, I met his dark gaze and asked, "Have you found him?" "We know where he is. We watch him." I closed my eyes. "Good. Don't kill him. That privilege belongs to me."

Why, Sebastian, ma pearl, how generous it was of you to lend Devon your coat and weskit. He looks quite handsome. But you must be careful, lest he out-peacock the peacock. And, ummm, what is Flintlock Jack directing our attention to? LOL! And Patrick, as always.....AWESOME

I'm not familier with drums at all, but I know a good piece of art/craftsmanship when I see it. Very nice. As for decoration, hummmm....I leaning toward Red-Handed Jill's opinion that it should be left pretty much alone. The wood is so lovely. If anything, maybe a repeat of the small knot design on the head of the tipper? Hope I get to hear you play it next year at Ojai!

As I changed from dress to shirt, britches, and boots — both of them. I recalled that at some point during the previous nights activities, the emerald had fallen out of my bodice and rolled across the floor. I searched and found it, glowing like a nugget of sea water, next to my clothes chest. I picked it up, examined it a moment, then hid it away behind the secret panel in the wall. Then there was a knock on the door and Ludo begged entry. "Come," I said, as I braided up my hair. Ludo opened the door with one hand, while a wooden tray balanced on the other. On the tray was coffee, bread, cheese, a mango, and some of the leftover fish from the crew's dinner. He set this banquet on my desk, glanced around the cabin, gave me a wink, muttered something that sounded like "impetuoso", and departed.

Sunlight streaming through the transom windows woke me. Groggy, and disorientated, I went to swing out of my cot, but instead tumbled over and landed on the floor, my legs tangled in the skirts of the fancy dress. "Bloody hell," I muttered, as every muscle in my body protested, then..."Oh, God!" I suddenly remembered the nights activities. Cautiously, I looked around at my cabin. A chair was knocked over, books spilled about the floor, and my blanket and pillow were under my desk. Shite, I thought, we can't even make love without turning it into a wrestling match. The dress was dirty, torn, and loose threads looped where beads, now glittering on the floor, had once been. Then I realized I was still wearing one boot. I started to giggle. Getting awkwardly to my feet, I clomped to the my cabin door, and opened it. "Oi, Africa, you devil, where are you?" He must have been hovering close by, for he loomed in the doorway. I pulled Jacky's knife from the wall and handed it to him. "Get me out of this blasted dress. Then tell Goose,...no, Ludo, to bring me coffee and breakfast. I'm starving." Africa, frowning, cut the laces as ordered, then surveyed the chaos. "Musta been a case o'..." Having rolled his eyes heavenward, he suddenly stopped. I looked up, and instantly bent over in howls of laugher. Above our heads, hanging from a lantern bracket, was one of Jacky's socks.

A toast to the romantic, baconfest dinner for two. Scallops wrapped in bacon Bacon, cheese, and green tomato frattata Bacon and Spinach salad Beer & wine Bon appetit, mes amies! Baaaconnnnnn.......

To JT, re: TPHSB Let the Good Times Roll....The Cars.

Be afraid, be very afraid!

Africa stood outside the captains door, listening and waiting. When he heard the crash, he tried to open the door, but it was locked. "What go on?" he shouted. "If dat man hurt you, I kill him!" The was a thud, then silence. He tried the door again, then kicked at it. "I break it down, if I have to!' Then her voice, sounding a bit strange, shouted, "Not now, blast you." Africa paused, thought a moment, then shook his head and walked back up on deck.

Once we'd crashed to the floor, knocking into a chair, and setting a small stack of books tumbling, I stuck my face within inches of his, and snarled, "What kind of gob can't even get a woman out of a stupid dress!" I sat up, straddling his stomach, then leaned over and grabbed the knife. Jacky's eyes got huge, and I laughed. "I'm not going to stab you, fool." I threw it out of the way, and it buried itself into the wall with a thud, the hilt quivering. Then I leaned over him again, my face inches from his, and whispered, "No, I'm not going to stab you, Mr. Tar, I'm going to kiss you."

Rain