Silkie McDonough

unusual, err ...placement

Michael York

All the more reason to pamper ya' Mr. Pew. She kneeds at a particullary tough knot.

"Ken I have somtin t’ moisten m’mout? M’wet on d’outside but am utterize parched.” Murin winced as the smile she tried to display pulled at the splits in her lips. Her attention was drawn to the door as Chanault departed. She could see the man she had faced on the shore and a red haired man outside the door about to enter. Noting the gesture from the man in the corner, she concluded that both men were officers or the like. She continued to address the doctor. “M’indeed tired but wit dees wet clothes on, I doubt I’ll sleep. Ifin ya could kindly provide some privacy where we could strip down, wash r’selves n’dry off b’for we sleep. Den d’clothing would be dry once we was well rested.” Looking down at what she wore she modified her request. “Actually, a tub fer m’clothin as well as m’self might b’n...” Blushing she stopped short. "M’soory. We’ll be grateful fer a place to close our eyes fer a while.” Her head droped and she fell silent.

Mister Pew! Det sounds Dreadful! She walks over and trys to work the knot out of his neck and sholders while he waits for his food.

Tank ya William! One uv m'favorites. Ken I get mango slices on d'side? N'have d'bar tender whip up sometin wit citris juice n'rhum!

“Um…” Murin stammered slightly as she met the doctor’s eyes. “It’s nil been tree weeks yet.” after a dry swallow she continued “We found d’cave f’ter …d’fort er fift dey …I tink.” Her voice sounded raspy and weak. Her eyes dropped, “Too late fer d’gentelman det saved us.” She paused wishing that he too had survived. Setting her resolve she looked at Ana. “She’s nut well, uv been in d’sun fer a few munts but …she’s nut use t’it.” Her eyes dropped to her hand again. Breaking the brief silence she lifted it to the doctor. “I fell on one a’dose wicked plants.” making eye contact she continued. Her eyes danced golden in the lamp light “Gud send once ya get past d’needels.” She managed a weak smile through her cracked lips.

I feel like I have a severe case of spring feaver and I NEED to get out to play!

Wanna trade? I upgraded my cell phone (my only phone) yesterday and I am having a bear of a time trying to figure out how to use the majority of the features on the dang thing!

Murin was startled to see such a young man enter the surgery ward. Handsome with sharp features his pale green eyes scrutinizing the two women sitting before him. Her eyes locked briefly with his. She had nothing to hide but felt if he looked long enough he would see into her soul. She diverted her eyes by looking at her injured hand. Her attention returned to the door as another figure entered. The doctor she presumed. The figure appeared to be a bit slighter than the first under the rain gear. He removed his hat with one graceful sweep. It was indeed a woman standing before them. She was slight; her deep green eyes and pixyish features were framed by auburn locks. Murin could not recall ever seeing such proud and strong bearing in a woman. Instantly she respected her and felt a sense of relief at her mere presence.

This post brings me to 99 posts away from being a Dread Pyrate! Jack, as long as everybodys happy! Sounds like a win/win situation to me! :) Hmmm, I'm feeling like I'm in the mood for a Big Beef Burrito and a large Mountain Dew myself!

The porthole splashed with rain confirmed what she heard above, it was raining again. Murin slouched in the chair provided, rested her head on the back and closed her eyes. The bundle of their possessions lay beside her on the floor. She questioned her decision to gather everything they had scavenged. The weapons would be useful but the bottles of liquid and that thing that Ana had called a quadrant. Why ever would she bring those along? Ana’s query of the doctor brought her out of her musings. Didn’t the man she spoke to say the surgeon was a woman? They would know soon enough. She inspected her swollen hand it was hot and red; it hurt to move her fingers. She would be glad to have someone look at it. Hot and sticky, soaked to the bone she knew she must look like a wild animal. She gingerly removed her feet from the boots that she wore a stretched her toes, her legs, a wide yawn escaped as she continued to stretch. She cringed in pain; her tight burnt hide objected to such movement, the linen shirt was no match for the tropical sun. Had they not found the cave they would surly have perished.

Sorry for your loss Bo. The loss of a friend is hard indeed.

Murin quickly gathered what few belongings they had acquired from the wreckage that had washed ashore. She strapped on the sword belt. Ana could use the sword better than she but seeing her current state Murin could not bring herself to ask Ana for assistance. She wrapped the pistol, knife, belaying pin, two bottles and a quadrant in what was left of a torn shirt. Gingerly she lifted the cumbersome bundle in both arms and followed the men to the long boat.

Murin trailed in, dropped the wet waist coat near the cave entrance and shook the water from her limbs and head. “She ken talk well enuf!” The corners of her lips lifted. She advanced to where Ana sat on her mat of palm fronds and dropped to her knees in front of the still silent woman. Taking Ana’s hands in hers their eyes met. “Lady, we are saved.” Ana’s eyes brightened, tears welled as the two embraced. Lightly Murin murmured, “Buíochas le Dia!” (Thank God).

Murin did her best to keep up the pace. Her strength waning she began to drag behind. She did not mind. She was alive and free, and soon she would be well and away from this island, and in the company of others. Oh to hear conversation again, to share a song! Hidden by the rain, tears flowed easily again.

A free ship! This man, treating her not as a possession or captive but allowing her own free will to come or stay! She tightened the rope that held the breeches up, threw the waist coat over her shoulder and awkwardly lifted the boots that were at least two sizes too big for her feet in an attempt to keep pace with the men headed towards the cave and Ana. Ana needed attention; she was not use to this harsh life. It was hard on Murin also but she had been in the fields for several months now, she was use to working to live but Ana, a lady of privilege, was near spent after these few weeks. “Yer Docter, he'll help willinly?” She and Ana were like night and day. They had disagreements over many things but it took the both of to survive here this long and they had formed a bond through their hardship together. Although she found Ana exasperating at times she genuinely had come to like the lady.

I can lend my hands, I have no cookware to offer, and I usually cook for one so cooking for a crowd would be a bit of a challenge. I can donate some coin, chop, peal, and clean up!

What to do? He did not answer her query. She feared the situation she had created. He had the upper hand; there were six of them and all armed. She swallowed hard. “Merchant vessel, n’ I know nil else uv er.” She paused; there was no sense in holding back. Either they were saved or dead. Their fate lay in the hands of the man before her and his ship mates. No matter now. She heaved a sigh, her shoulders dropped as she realized the futility of any subterfuge on her part. “Tis jest one lady n’mself. We’ve seen no utter alive, n’burried a man or’ a week ago.” That was it; it was out, her heart pounded in her ears louder than the waves crashing at the shore. She waited, praying that she was indeed saved.

Murin blinked. Dumbfounded, she hadn’t thought to hear someone from her home country. So, the ship may not be a British vessel. The weapons were not pointed towards her, she measured her words carefully. “Aye, tree weeks. Apollo. N’wot vessel be det?” She nodded towards the ship off shore. “Who duz she sail fer?”

The bark of commands from the boat snapped Murin from her revelries. She gasped …she had been seen! She hadn’t stopped to think! She would rather die on the island living free than be taken back to slave in cane fields of Barbados! Life here was hard but it was free. With apprehension she gathered her nearly spent resources, forced herself to rise to her feet and turned to the vessel on the shore. They were disembarking. She hadn’t taken time to think out her actions. To allow herself to be approached on this shore with no means of defense! Not knowing if Ana even woke to her shouts. Her impetuous behavior would be the end of her some day. She swallowed hard, what was done could not be undone. Murin quickly glanced to see if Ana was coming to join her. No movement in that direction. The men were armed. Involuntarily she stepped back. She thought briefly of running, but it was clearly too late for that, where could she possibly run to, on such a tiny islet? The landing party stopped suddenly. Commands were given and they split into two groups. Murin hoped that Ana was awake and arming herself. Setting her resolve, planting her feet at shoulder width, her arms at her sides, the waist coat still clenched in her fist, Murin stood her ground. One way or another she would be leaving the Island today …hopefully alive and unharmed. With a keen gaze, Lasseter studied the woman as he drew near. Though the possibility of ambush from the cave still gave him pause, he could detect no apparent threat from the woman. She certainly seemed the genuine article: dirty, wet, and utterly bedraggled; wearing an odd assortment of clothing clearly not her own; and apparently doing her best to master a spirit near unhinged by physical and emotional exhaustion. She appeared to be in her early twenties, reddish-brown tangled curls framed and clung to her face, her hazel eyes gray with the days rain showed trepidation and yet, equally clearly, there was strength behind her eyes: strength and resourcefulness. The woman had managed to survive for several weeks on this God-forsaken spit. Many a hardy crewman might have done worse, given up and laid himself out as a banquet for the crabs. Lasseter wondered if he would find more corpses on land, in a similar state to the floaters. He did not look forward to the burials that would be required. But first, there were the living to attend to.

I got it working. Don't know how! Now I need to figure out how to turn down the bass on my desktop ...it's so deep it's giving me a headache!

I couldn't connect. I down loaded WMP and tried to connect but ...it said it couldn't play it. Said it did recognize it or that the file was corrupt.

m' guessin dey escaped ...or languished there ...what a center peice fer the room

These are the only pirate like peices I have. These are photos taken with my cheap digital camera and without the benefit of a copy board, the images are not as vivid as I would have liked. "Dead Mans Bones" Conte crayon and chalk ...or pastels ...it's been a while! "Dream of Wild Horses" Ink. This one was inspired by a film about the wild horses on on N.C. outer banks. So glad I am getting the use of my hands back! Once the healing is done I will be able to create some new images!