Capt. Sterling

lust

le coq

French fries

French Quarter

Okay...have to say it.... Pirates of the Caribbean ride

la la land

Confusion to our enemies!

Honestly Greg, You did a terrific job on that jacket... sewing tip... you can take it or leave it... buttonholes are one of those things that improve the more you do them.... well since no one has the time to do nothing but buttonholes... try doing a few on scrap first before you start on your garment... gets you into the swing of things so to speak.... just my two cents... Hector

and Montgomery's is a major investment, not that I would part with mine... last I saw, one sold on ebay for just under $500.00 ....whew... :) And Blackjohn, point well taken about Waugh's, Kass even tells you what kind of stitches were used... and wait until she gets back from her next trip to England.... wow!

Yes but I do have over twenty years experience with constructing period correct reproductions of original garments...(gee I started tailoring in 1972) I have already made at least half of the garments in Waugh's already...(gee GOF...got mine for under $40. evil grin...and my Florence M. Montgomery at 40.00 even broader evil grin) And Kass's pattern, are still worth the price since I no longer have to go through the extra time or effort of enlarging said 6 x 8" drawing, grading it to size and then still correcting the fit (when or if necessary)... since they are extremely well researched, including using original garments, they are the perfect addition to any LHistorian's collection...

Great FIND!! Love the spectacles grinder... Thanks for sharing the link... Hector

May the force be with you

the sun never set on her Empire...

secret

halo

Wow! Mike, other than the two patterns from the V&A in Waugh's book, I would love to see the ones you mention, would you please share the links to these patterns!! Thanks, Hector

shadows

scary

Polar bears

It's the REAL thing...

He had been halted by the foreman of one of the sugar plantations and questioned as to why he was trespassing. Knowing all too well that adding the “Sir” back to his name would garner him the release he needed to continue his ride, he announced himself, watched as the foreman paled and uncovered in respect. Sterling was not fond of pulling rank, three years of slavery, had taught him titles truly meant very little in life but he was in no mood to argue, especially since he truly had no claim to be where he had found himself. He continued, now allowing his mount free rein to walk itself out amongst the rows and rows of sugar cane. Occasionally he made himself to watch the numerous slaves busy out in the fields as he rode by and had to hold himself in check physically as an overseer brought whip to bear. He himself still bore scars of beatings, many he most likely deserved because of his stubbornness to submit to his captives. He encouraged his horse to break forward once more into a slow canter, until he was far away from people. He did not wish to reminisce about his time in Algiers. He shortly found himself at the edge of a one of the fields. A small grove of trees and a tiny pond filled with brackish water helped him to decide to take a break there. He dismounted, unbridled his animal and tethered it within easy range of grass and drink. The morning had turned damnably hot, so he shed himself of coat and sword, although the later was kept within easy reach. He unbuttoned his silk waistcoat then loosened his cravat and unfastened the buttons at his throat. Dipping his hands into the pond, he splashed himself with the warm pond water. It neither refreshed him nor cleared his drug muddled mind. Checking once again on his rented mount, he finally fell under what little shade he could find. He had not managed to sort out his life long, before the medicine seized him completely and he fell asleep.

"A sheep party?! Horrors!" Sterling says in alarm. "The Scots are here... watch yer backs, gentlemen and pets...."

Cost wise, these patterns are a bargain as GOF and MJ and the others have said. I've been tailoring historical garments for over twenty years now and have tried all most every pattern out on the market for various time frames and Kass's are simply put, the best to work with... Not only that but she is the best to work with as well... she has a chat list where she is more than happy to answer questions regarding all her patterns and help the sewer along with their projects... don't find that with most other pattern makers... very rare indeed... I've seen nightmare patterns available at twice the cost which I have just ended up tossing in the trash. I can and have sewn garments from books such as Waugh's Cut of Men's Clothes... the 1690s coat seems as if it were made just for me... but others don't even come close to fitting my size, so I know the time needed to enlarge and fit such patterns. Kass has saved us the trouble there. I have also sewn from period garments by "taking patterns" from original pieces... It is tough work and time consuming as well... all this Kass has, once again done for us... And she has had hands on experience with many originals from the time frames she makes patterns from... NOT many pattern makers can actually make that claim... if you really study period clothing... most patterns are just glorified costume interpretations... Kass's patterns will produce period correct, working clothing! NOT Costumes! In the long run... $25 is a mere drop in the bucket and well worth the investment... In my opinion... if you are going to make something, make it right from the start or in the long run you'll be paying three times the price because you will constantly be tweaking it over and over and over and over....

Tossing items to the floor in his fury to find what he was seeking, Sterling rummaged through his chest as Lilly paced back and forth wringing her hands and wondering how to deal with him at the moment. To say he was angry would be the gravest mistake. “John, please stop and think about what you are doing?” She said softly. He shifted slightly, looking back over his shoulder at her. “I am…for the first time since I came round enough to find you in Port Royal. Ah!” he had found what he was looking for. Buried at the very bottom of his things was an old pair of riding boots. At one time he had owned a stable filled with some of the very best horseflesh in England. Hunting , when not at sea, had been a great passion of his. When he had lost everything, he had still managed to make the time to escape out into the countryside, to ride, alone with his thoughts, when ever the opportunity presented itself. It was the one extravagance he continued to permit himself. He removed the soft leather boots from the chest. Perfectly constructed, nearly skin tight, with a small cuff to protect the knee and the upper backs cut away for comfort, they were a work of art, and although useless onboard ship or for walking about town, he had been loath to part with them. He remembered pawning his silver handled whip only a few months back , his boots, now the only item left to him. Already dressed, he reached into the left boot and found his spurs, and withdrew them. Silver, their necks arched in the shape of a idealistic bird, delicate rowels gripped in their beaks. These would soon be the next things to sell, he sighed. He sat on the floor and drew on the boots, not without effort and strapped the spurs about his heels. “John, you should not go out!” Lilly protested, coming to kneel by his side. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and hugged him. “I hope to find Sir Henry and straighten this matter out. Even poor March knows not what to expect, thanks to thee. Besides,” he said as he shook her off and climbed to his feet. “I need to clear my head. I find I have the most sincere thoughts of strangling thee!” For a moment, Lilly felt herself bristle. She hated it when he spoke down to her in such a formal tone. She stood as he buckled on his small sword and went for his coat. “John, let me send for Dr. Reiley instead. Please,” Lilly suggested. “What? And have him bleed me again? Have thee not drained me enough in bed as of late?” he stormed. “Please John ! You know you are ill!” He glared at her. “To ease thy mind then,” he growled low. He snatched up the medicine Reiley had left behind for him and downed it. “JOHN!” Then Sterling took his hat and left the room to seek a horse to rent, slamming the door behind him. Once he had acquired a spirited Chestnut he rode swiftly to Sir Henry’s abode in town, only to find he needed to wait an hour and three quarters of the clock, only to be told Morgan was not in. By this time the laudanum had began to take its harsh grip on him. When he remounted and rode to the Sugar Loaf, the coach was gone. Damn, he thought to himself. Not knowing where to search next, he turned the horse about and spurred if forward. Angry, hot and drugged, he galloped like a menace through the streets heading to the outskirts of town, hoping to find a place to ride and be alone to think.

“What has thou done?” Sterling yelled, sitting upright in the bed. The actress’s humming had awoken him not long after the letter had moved on from the barroom below. She had made herself comfortable in her place beside him but found she could not sleep due to her excitement. The letters were the necessary key; the permission he needed to go out and rebuild his fortune. She knew all too well, that he would generously lavish his gains upon her and his child. “Ah,” she thought. “Children.” Sarah would no longer be the only one who reaped the benefits of an all too successful captain. And if he did well enough… just perhaps… she would change her mind concerning relinquishing her freedom to become his wife and his chattel. She had tried to read but did not notice that a song she had heard recently played over and over in the back of her mind until she began to hum. It was not until he had rolled toward her and she felt his fingertips progress along her thigh that she was certain he was stirring. He had awakened to find her unexpectedly happier than he had seen her since she had suddenly interrupted his life again. As he pulled her to him, ready for more of her exquisite delights, she had begun to tell him, between his kisses and gentle nips, about the good news. At first what she babbled on about made little sense to him… an urgent need far out weighed any matters of business. It was not until he had pushed her chemise upward to her waist that she had giggled and said Sir Henry would have to wait. It was only then, he realized he should be taking the time to listen to what she had to say. “Sir Henry?” he said pausing. “Admiral Morgan?” “Oh Johnny, it can wait,” she said. “You said so yourself.” She took hold of the of neck of his nightshirt and attempted to pull him down to her again. “You said he sent a letter round? Concerning my papers?” “John!” Lilly rolled her eyes as he suddenly rolled himself off of her. She propped herself up upon her elbows, thoroughly annoyed that he had decided now to change tack. “Where is the letter?” he asked her, anxious to see it for himself. “You were asleep so I read it and replied for you,” she answered, confident that her actions would prove satisfactory. “What is it? Johnny what is wrong?” she added when his response was not what she had expected.