Ransom

Heartfelt prayers to familiy and friends, and a parting glass for the journey on.

Shiraz (Ya gotta love those Australians!)

The smile I gave him hid an overwhelming relief. I don't know what I wold have done, had he refused, and left the ship. I locked the door. He watched me, with hazel eyes more green than brown, waiting to see how far this would go. "You know, it seems a shame to waste that lovely bath we've had. Who knows when we'll both smell this nice again." Then I turned my back, and lifted my hair, so he could unlace the beautiful white dress he'd bought me so long ago.

It's only called a pirate movie, because while doing the horizontal bop everywhere on the ship, the man wears a hoop earring, and a patch over one eye, and the woman has large tattoos and keeps her high-heeled bucket boots on. They both, at the critical moment, yell, "Arrrrrrr...."

The two DVDs in the "Underworld" series are great vampire movies. Bloody, but good. It's an interesting story about a centuries-long fued between Bloods (vampires) and Lycan (werewolves). As for Libertine...I have it, and like it, but I have to be in the right mood to watch it. It gets painful toward the end.

Gee, a Dead Man's Chest lunch box?...... "What are ya having for lunch there, mate?" "Heart sandwich."

I heard the soft knock on my door and was surprized. I'd thought for sure he would avoid me. I hesitated, not sure I was doing the right thing, at the right time. Then he spoke quietly about returning to his ship. Still I hesitated, so afraid of refusal. I heard him turn to walk away. Without thought, I flung open the door, my heart racing. "Jacky wait." He paused, his expression one of resignation. It was obvious he anticipated another fight. I took a deep breath, and risked all. "I don't really want to talk, but...I could use some help getting out of this dress."

You win!

I don't know about moth holes, but there's got to be some kind of vermin on board that would snack on your wool clothing. As for aging stuff, I thought about it, and decided I would let mine age on it's own. The only thing I have washed so far is my shirt. My linen coat, never. At the two events I've attended, I had to fly in, and my frock coat is too bulky to pack, so I wear it, or I sling it over my shoulder. On board I used it as a blanket or rolled it up into a pillow. Then, at the events, I live in it. Both times it's been rained on, and dried while still on me. In fact, I'm developing quite the love affair with my trusty coat. Next, linen britches (so I can ditch the black jeans) and a new shirt (my current one is cotton muslin — very cheap). My belt is an old leather saddle cinch, very used, and my boots (no, not bucket boots, but boots none-the-less) I wear with street clothes as well, so they are getting aged nicely and naturally. I'm not a garb purist, but I think I'm looking okay for a beginner.

Got it. Thanks.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I've had enough poetry, How about you? Now, where's the cinnamon toast and hot chocolate? Oh, and the rum

Oh goodie, I'll get all those kewl German stamps on GoF's mailing envelopes! BTW, Patrick, is this round going to have a theme? I just had everyone keep it to pyracy in general, but you were talking about ghost pirates, or haunted ships, etc. Just curious. I heard from Silkie that my first book is so full of artwork that the front and back covers are now three inches apart, and it won't close. How kewl is that!!!

While the others lingered on deck, I spoke with Africa. "Any trouble today?" He shook his head. "No one come out to board us. Only visitors be some fishermen oferin' to sell us a bit of their catch. Ludo buy some big ol' fish and cook it tonight. We eat like kings. There be some left if you still hungry." I smiled. "No, I'm not in need of food at the moment. Who's on watch tonight?" "Supposed to be Goose, and dat new man, Nate." "Well, put someone else in Nate's place. He's had enough excitment for one night, and he's so full of rum he'd probably fall asleep. I don't think the Cat's entirely sober either. In any case, I'm going to get out of this damned dress. I have some other information you need to know, so we'll talk again after I've changed." Africa nodded then went to find a replacement for Nate's watch. Scrubbing fingers through my hair, which had come loose during the wild coach ride, I turned to Jacky. "I'm going to my cabin. If you think you're talked out, you needn't follow. Your choice."

I was living in Riverside at the time, so was far enough away to avoid any major damage, but my little house did rock & roll. My boss's family wasn't so lucky. Both his parents and his sister lived in Whittier and the quake pretty much trashed everything in their houses, including the collapse of their chimneys. Scary. My Dad was working at a Home Depot in the area, and he said stuff started flying off the walls and shelves, and the overhead fixtures came crashing down. He couldn't get out of that building fast enough!

When we got within hailing range of the Rakehell, I called softely, "Oi, the watch. Africa? Tunny?" Above us, Africa's deep voice answered. "Saw you commin', ma'am. Dat dress be all shiny on da water, bright as moonlight." I was briefly taken aback by this hint of poetry from a black ex-slave, then started to climb up the entryway stairs, tying my skirts up around my waist so my boots wouldn't slip on the narrow slats. I hoped Jacky would follow me, and not return to the Relentless until we'd had our talk.

Thanks Patrick, Jill. Chain Shot will check in himself later, and give hints of the kinds of things he likes...he'll dictate, I'll type! BTW you two, how was the black powder shoot?

No, I just learn to doge them! Currently listening to...The Pirate Charles CD "Live Scallywags." Song of the moment "The Ruddar Strikes Him Dead." Great group BTW. They sang in front of the TO7S encapment in Ojai for about a half an hour. Very kewl!

That might depend on where or what got decorated! "Ulawaka, Ulawaka, sailor man beware, When there's money in the ground, there's murder in the air." Line from the song, Shiver My timbers. (Muppet Treasure Island)

Congratulations! I lived in a mobile home for six years down in Calif. It survived the big Whittier quake just fine. I figured, heck, it's meant to go down the road until parked, so a little shaking and rolling probably wouldn't hurt it. And it didn't. And it was a LOT of rolling. You'll have fun making it into a unique home special to you.

My husband with his chainsaw out in the back ten cutting fire wood. Hundreds of acorns dropping from all the oak trees - pinging off the garden furniture, the deck, the roof...my head. May have to declare our place a hard hat area until they have all dropped.

**Raises hand** I'm in again. It was too much fun last year. BTW, my other half, Chain Shot, is making noises about wanting to participate. He joined the Pub in the Spring, but mostly reads the Pub since it takes him 20 min to type two words. I can vouch for him, and I suspect Red-Handed Jill, Patrick, and Jacky Tar would also.

I'm still laughin' about Gentleman of Fortune sayin', "Screw authenticity!" in Twill! Just goes to show ya. Flash a man a few inches of cleavage, and all his moral convictions go right down the drain. Hummm, I wonder what you'd find between um? Cracker crumbs, old cocktail olives, a dropped lipstick tube...the mind boggles. Although, I'm sure she'd have a few volunteers willing to take an inventory. LOL

Dark, random images flicked through her mind like birds of prey, pecking at her memories. Quick images of her younger, happier self, before the quest to find her a husband. Her father's anger. Her mother's desperation. Few suitors stepping forward, and those that dared driven off by her lack of enthusiasm for the prison of marriage. Exile. The sea. Her first real taste of contentment. Then the horror of her kidnaping, and the payment of false coin. The taunting, and the beatings that followed. Pecking, pecking black birds with beaks red with her own blood. A beating so sever she bled for days. Even when she made water it was pink. Couldn't see, couldn' eat. She'd wished she'd died. Thought she would. Hoped. Always pain. A fact of her new life. Pain both physical and emotonal. But she'd survived. She'd won the Rakehell. Sailed it, crewed it, and kept it throught her own strengh of will. Pain. A searing in her body that drove the tormenting birds away. She tried to roll away from it, as she had from the beatings, but it followed, stabbing at her. Sharp. A probing finger of fire in her left side that would not let her escape. She shifted again, attempting to push it away, but it jabbed again, and with a small cry, like that of a wounded animal, she woke, and did not know where she was, or how she had got there. Then, from somewhere in the dim recesses of the room, came a rough voice she recognised. "Sae, yea decided tae rejoin the living. 'Bout time. I was ready tae sell your carcass tae the abattoir."

A classic, to be sure! "Well just look at us, lad, we're a festival of conviviality!" Tim Curry as Long John Silver in Muppet Treasure Island. (There are sooo many great lines in that movie.)

As the small boat was oared toward the Rakehell, I leaned in close to Jacky and said, "Before you return to the Relentles we need to talk — in private." Then Nate began to sing, Red Cat gave a satisfied huff, and Jacky merely nodded. Whether in consent to my request, or in time to Nate's tune, I couldn't say.