Silkie McDonough

oooooooo ...Now there's an idea! You have something here my good man! I just have to make the decision to make the commitment. Let me think on it.

Yea, Matt can't afford yet ANOTHER keyboard shorting out on him!

OOOH! William, ifin ya keeps dis up I'll b'in ere every day! I'll take on o'dem lamb tomatoe tingys.

M'gran da's recipe ...been in d'family fer years! Offers the flask to Mister MacGee So lads, like any good pirate ya just stumbeled in ere? Glad I am d'pub found ya! So, wot events ave ya been ta? B'cause I'm looken t'find more round ere.

Blasted PG ratin'!

Been pressed too! MySpace page

Surry lad, didn't mean t'leave ya feelin blue. She sits next to the man, produces a small silver flask, takes a swig, wiping her mouth with her sleeve she offers the flask to the new comers. Pocheen?

Silkie grabs an old damp bar rag from atop the bar and turns to Dennis ...reconsidering she places the stinky rag back on the bar Tis a shame t' wast goode rhum Ifin I were more forward I'd b'kissin d'rum off buot since I nil know ya yet... She pulls a fine linen handkercheif from her pocket and wipes the lad clean, gently kissing the last drop from his cheek.

Wont m't clean it up lad?

Okay ...I can't resist. Wotever I likes on you? Mmmmm, let m'see ... Saunters over to the lad I likes a bit o'rum on m'lads! She dunks her fingers into her tankard and splashes the lad!

Wot? Mae? Take advantage of a mans gentel nature?

M'good lad, I did not mean t'make ya blush but tis a goode quality in a man!

Promise?

The Starboard crew watched the darkest hours pass in hushed conversation. Ajiay and Meg, relieved of duty for their injuries from that day, were confined to the surgery with those still recovering from the battle at the taking of the Masstich. Murin had managed engaged the efforts of Patrick Hand, who was known to have skill with needle and thread well beyond simple sail mending, to create the French flag in her stead. "Won't take no time a'tal. Simple white flag like that." She was pleased that he had so easily agreed to assist her when the sun was a bit higher in the sky. Relieved of duty she still reported with her watch and spent the hours serving coffee and conversation to those on deck. To her dismay much of the conversation focused on Meg and her would be attacker. "Tawny!" the men spat the name each time it came around. Murin longed to discuss the subject with one of the woman but none were working on her crew any longer. She had experienced the unwanted advances of lecherous men in her past. These fiends come from all stations of life, high and low. Murin swallowed hard at the thought of poor Meg faced with that vile ....thing that was thrown on the deck yesterday. He smelled of bilge and was crusty with all manner of filth! Poor Meg! Thank God Paul had gone when he had. She had heard that Meg had been stripped to the waist and her slops ripped open. Tawny's slops laid open as he laid on the deck. Murin shuddered. The men all discussed what they wanted to happen to Tawney. Most were waiting for him to "dance the hempen jig". Miss McDonough had her own thoughts on the subject that she shared with none. She had decided several years ago that any man who would try to force himself on an unwilling woman should have his balls removed. Castrate the ghoul and make him live, if he lives, with his lack of manhood! Geld him! She stood looking out at the day, towards where Martinique was to appear. On her face she wore a devious grin and her eyes danced with mischief. "What are you plotting?" Nathan inquired. "Not a ting, jus tinkin o'revenge!" She turned and left before he could question her further.

Welcome lad! Wot's blue?

Fearadh na fáilte! A Hearty Welcome t'ya Mester MacGee! Jacky m'luv, Silkie kisses the lad's cheek Tis a fine place ere! Many a friendly faces she whispers jus b'ware ...deer b' pirates about. Now det han'some lad or'dear, b'Ray, d'bar keep. He's a goode man, honest, keeps dis place runnin jus fine. Ifin ya give em nough coin t'cover a round fer d'house, d'pirates about become more friendly like! :)

G'day t'ya Meester Talbot. Ifin tis d'king ya oppose den yuv come t'd'right place. Silkie swishes over to the new lad. M'a bit uv an actress m'self ...I act like people enjoy seeing me up on stage! I do act but I nil do so professionally, I leave det t'd'professionals. I do sing a good song doh. So, I'll sing n'you act like ya like it! Sitting down she signals for Ray to serve up another grog for her on Mister Talbots coin Now luv, wotch d'lasses ere ...d'ale steal yer heart ifin ya aren't careful! more likely yer coin!

Honour lass, I makes it a point nut t'step b'tween a lass' blade n'her man. Yull find um all bark an nil a bit o'bite wit d'lads buot tis good t make dem squirm frum time t'time.

Den, deers nil any reason fer ya t' b'holdin up d'woll lad! Why nut take one uv dees lasses round the floor fer a dance?!

I ave nil any arms on mae det I wish t'use on ya save deese wit wich t'embrace ya lad.

Tea fer mae lawss, black wit a bit o'sugar ifin ya will.

Taking Ransoms lead, Silkie turns and walks back to the bar: Keepin 'is eye on 'is own booty, ses e'? Her hips swaying gently as she saunters away. Mayhaps we shood find d'lad a mirror! Ray, grog ifin ya will ...extra lime. not authentic but neither is this pub!

Hulloo Capn'! Please join mae fer a bite ...ifin ya sits right ere. She indicates the seat to her right, leans to that direction and stretches her neck a bit, Um tinkin det ya won't ave't move fer t'see d'fireworks

Silkie slides off of the bar and lands easily on her feet. Sauntering towards Mister Roberts she says: Easy! Yer leanin against a woll lad! Yuv got an abundance uv lasses t'b'leanin aginst! She indicates the gathered ladies. N'each more attractive den d'next?! She stops when she reaches the halfway point. Wot ya doin over there?

Tawny lay on the deck, curled on his side, his head tucked into his arms for protection. Blood dried in the corner of his mouth, on his skull behind his ear, around his wrists and ankles and matted in his hair. Bruising beginning to show on the exposed areas of his beaten hide. Each time he struggled to escape his efforts were met with not only resistance of his bindings but the force of a sailor’s foot, fist, knee, elbow or belaying pin. The crew, Paul Mooney in particular, did not take kindly to one of their own being accosted let alone one of the women being molested. His mood had been dark since the loss of his mate Lawrence Dinwiddie only three days past, Tawny’s attack on Meg had blackened it. Although off duty, Paul insisted on standing guard. His pistol remained in his belt. He chose rather to use brute force to keep the prisoner in check. Several of the crew wondered at Paul's cruel treatment of Megs assailant. Not because they thought excessive but that it was Mooney exhibiting the brutality. Paul was thought of as a gentle soul compared to many on board. This display of violence was unlike him. There was more on Paul's mind than the malefactor laying before him. The past hour laying on the deck, in Paul's care, under the hot sun had finally drained Tawny enough that he was at last still. More than one crew member stopped and stared to be sure that the man was breathing.