Jack Roberts

So question for everyone. How much discussion is behind the scenes? How much are people PMing each other? or do you write down whatever you want and let the other characters play out? Thanks just wanted the ground rules.

Full Name: Jack Roberts Nick Name: "Freebooter" Jack Occupation: Pyrate I'm not sure were I was born. I would assume Port Royal, that is as early as I can remember. A kind sailor, Ritter, took pity on me after I stole his purse. He brought me on board and has been like a father to me. We were working on a merchant ship at the time. Some time had passed, and the crew decided to munity. I myself being young followed along. We were successful and we went "on the account". My friend Ritter taught me everything. With the help of the crew onaboard, he showed me the ways of a blade and pistol. Soon I was fighting along side my crew. Now we are here at Port Royal. Offloading are loot and such. I'm grow tired of this ship and enjoying being on land for awhile. Supporting crew: Ritter; Like a father to my character. Taught me everything. A hardened sailor and pyrate.

As the title says, what about a long whip? Similar to a mondern day bull whip. Would they have existed? I really haven't done any research, I'm on my way to google now, Thanks for any info.

Been reading this one for awhile and I figured I'd post some of mine. I just finished most of it. Just have to sew a lot of buttons on. My wife and I are currently busy sewing garb for a crew of 10 people for our PiP trip. About halfway there. Everything I'm wearing (except for my pants) is hand dyed. I was able to get some really cool looks to the outfits buy doing that. All the other garb I'm making is also hand dyed. There are a few vest pieces that are not but most of it is.

"MMmm...." I grumbled. I crack open one of me eyes and take a look around. "Ahhh.. I must have slept through the night." I thought. "DRAT!" I stood with force only to fall down in my seat again. "Oohh.. me head." " A bit too much last night I'm afraid." I guess I have drank myself silly last night and pass out in the tavern. "Sir?" "Yes", I answered, half crackin' an eye open. "Would you like a drink or something to eat?" asked the barmaid. "Aye, that would do nicely. Nothing to heavy please, maybe some bread would be just fine." "...and a nicely spiced rum." "Right away." she said in a soft tone. Well last night was much deserved. I needed that. Now just to clear my head a bit and off to see what else has become of this island. As my vittles were placed before me I reminisced the actions of last night. I remember hearing that a girl was murdered a few days ago and the killer was on the lose. Interesting thought I wonder why, but no matter people die all the time in this place. It was a miracle I survived as long as I did. Finishing my meal, I paid up my trans actions and gave a wink to the barmaid stepped out into the street.

“LAND HO!!” shouts crewman. The whole crew runs up from the decks and checks the sighting. The capt’n crawls out of his cabin and looks to Ritter. “Boatswain, I believe you know what need to happen.” “Aye Captain.” Answers Ritter As we closed in on the port we were hailed by one the harbor master’s men. We convince him that all is well aboard and come bearing fine clothes and linens to trade and sell. The eve is coming and we are about a rush trying to get the ship docked. The task seems so more strenuous then it should. I guess with little more than half the crew we’re used to, that is to be expected. All is well and the sun is setting, the sky is ablaze with fiery crimsons and reds, time for me to explore, I haven’t been on this island since for some time. “I wonder if Fox and Bull is still here” I thinks to meself. Well I’m off to find a nice meal and a good ale. Walking down the streets of this town a flood of memories come back. I spent most of my childhood, well what childhood I did have, in Port Royal. Scraping by, trying to just survive. Until that fateful day, “Thank god, for Ritter.” I mumbled to myself. If it wasn’t for him I would have probably died in these very streets. Just up ahead the Fox and Bull is there, by the looks of it doesn’t seem to busy. I push open the door and just a few people here and there. I walk up to barkeep and ask, “You have any rooms available?” “Aye, I might. For the right price.” “Will this get me there for a week?” I said as I tossed a passed a few silver bulls over the bar. “Aye, I think this will and more. What be your pleasure tonight?” “Right now, a good hot meal and one of your nappiest ales.” “Right away.” Answered the barkeep as he ran to the kitchen. I find a table to prop up my feet, lower my hat over my brow, and eagerly await my vittles.

I asked about this a few months back in captain twill. I figured it might of use so I'll post the link here. Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue I've tried to just salt my writing with couple of the words in here. If'n ye are having trouble what something means I probably pulled from here. Laters

“CRACK!!” Lightining streaked across the sky. I held on to my line as best could. “Drop canvas” shouted Ritter. I did as told, and unbound my line holding the mizzen sail. The rest of the crew did same. The wind was whipping around our ears. The sound of the sea was deafening as if a thousand waves smashing up against a cliff. “CREAK… SNAP!!” “Blast it. The gaff rig snapped.” screamed Ritter. “Ye middies get up there and cut it loose.” As we dropped sail, gaff rigged yards snapped and jammed up the sail. Now the main mast was in danger snapping. You hear the strain on the post as the sail is whipped and pulled by the gale. I started up the lines. I ran up the port side while my friend Affton ran up the other. We struggled for footing as the storm raged on. The ropes were slick and felt like snakes under our feet. “Almost there”, I thought, “I can see where the sail was snagged.” “Get that cut down, you NIGMENOGS! Or I’ll have you livers for dinner.” Screamed Ritter. Just then a swell rolled by the ship. Pitching her almost sideways, I lost my grip, but had my footing. There I hang, dangling from my knees, with the ship so close to the water it seemed as if I could reach out and touch it. As I started to regain my composure from the fall, I saw out of the corner of me eye my friend. He fell right in front of me, crashing into the sea. With a force I have not felt again, the ship pitched upright. “Affton” I screeched. “Move on son, move on!” shouted Ritter over the roar, “You have to move on.” “I must.” There was a lull, I scampered up the rigging as fast as I could. Cutting through the line that held my side of the sail, “Now to the other side.” but how? Chancing my luck and using the current lull to try and swing over to the other side. Hand over hand, across the yard hoping my luck would hold out. Just as I grabbed the netting on the starboard side, a wave crash over the deck. Throwing the ship sideways once again. All I could hear was the main mast creaking and groaning. “Please don’t snap.” Was all my young mind could think. “Please just hold a little longer” I started to look for where the sail was caught up. “I can’t find it. Where? Where is it?” Looking, my eyes searching in between the flashes of lightining. There, the rope was bound in the sheave, just a few feet away. Inching my way over, trying to keep my footing, lest I survive my friend’s fate. There just within grasp, the cordage. “SNAP!!” I felt that sickening feeling in my bowels. The mast had held as long as she could. She gave way. Falling, falling, it felt like forever in those moments. I could hear the crew screaming as they scattered. “SMACK!!” the foremast caught the main mast and stopping the fall. I had held on for my life. The sail was still tugging at the mast. I had to cut it down before any more damage. “Where was the blasted sheave?” “Cut it down Jack! Cut it down” screamed Ritter! There it was, I started cutting. Slicing as fast as my dull knife would. “SPRINGinging…” The mast snapped back like rope too taught, trying to throw me forward. Losing my grip, from the force of the spring, I fell to the deck. Smashing down on the deck, I lost all breath, gasping for air, the lage (water) crashing over me, completely soaking me. I struggled to breath. Ritter ran over, slapping me on my back, trying to get me to breath. “Breath son, short breaths, little ones. Just breathe. Just breathe.” His voice cracking towards the end of his sentences. “What a horrid night.” Thought I, smoking a gage. “Why the long face?” inquired Ritter. “Mmm..” I grunted, exhaling my smoke, ”Oh nothing, just reflecting.” “Try not to focus too much on the past my chuck. It’ll do you no good.” “Aye, you’re probably right.” I replied. “Don’t fret my chuck; we’ll be putting off soon.” The thought of getting on land made me crack a slight smile. Lifting my spirits somewhat. We are getting close to our destination. Hopefully I can get off this barge.

Ok, for our little story here, would I need to sneak my ship into port? If so, could I jsut changed the name of the ship and be in? Would I also have to have the proper paperwork? I really don't want to spend to much time on getting my ship into port. I've already got 2 paragraghs down and i'm not even close. Just wondering what might have to happen. I really want to get my character on land. Thanks in advance for any suggestions.

Shafts of moonlight streamed through the clouds. The silence was disturbed by the sound of running. A boy, panting for his life was being chased. He zipped into the streets, dodging their patrons. His ragged breaths came short. “They’re getting closer.” He thought. The shouts men behind him, cursing him. He clutched a pouch, trying to keep it from clinking as he ran. He rounded the corner, looking behind him, SMACK!!! Cling, cling, cling, the leather pouch smashed to the ground. The boy looked up, only to be grabbed the collar. The shouting had stopped. He had hit whom ever it was so hard; his head was in a daze. He was caught. No where to turn, he was at the mercy of his captors. The man started to box his ears so hard they started to bleed. With on swift stroke across the face the boy passed out. “Jack, Jack?” I shook myself out of my trance. “Yes” “Would ye be want’n a bottle?” “Nay” I answered aback. “Not tonight” The deck was still wet with blood from the previous skirmish. Thankfully most of the bodies had been thrown overboard and all the tortures were over. We’ve seemed to have brought on a new cooper. Maybe we can have vittles last longer than a week. The take was good. Our capt’n was in top form tonight. It being a night with no moon, bringing the ship almost on top of our prize. With a suprising broadside that shook the heavens, the ship could do nothing but surrender. Everyone was celebrating, reveling in the spoils. While it wasn’t the hardest battle we’ve undertaken but, the work after trying to haul everything aboard. We all are walking away with a good sized purse. I was awarded the first pair of pistols as my reward for having the captn’s back. “Jack?” It was our boatswain, Ritter. Good man for all rights and reason. His face reminded you of an apple that has sat to long wrinked and aged. Tall, slender man, he could still outrun us all. Scampering up the rigging like a cabin boy. He was the one that dragged me out to here. After that night he took me under his wing. He showed me how to shoot a pistol and wield blade, like the father I never had. I owe a lot to this man. “Aye!” “What be your say son?” “In what matters?” I replied. “Where we put off?” “I say Port Royal. I’m in need of a good time.” “Aye to that, your vote has been counted. That was a fine save this eve, with the captain and all.” said Ritter with a grin, “you made me proud my boy.” “Thanky.” I came back, with about much enthusiasm as I could muster, wishing not to spoil his accolades. I wish I could partake in their revelry. I just wasn’t feeling it. I needed some good food and some fine ale. We’ve been out to sea for months and I need some much time to myself. Get me off this ship. “24 to 7, PORT ROYAL it is my fine gents.” Exclaimed Ritter from the main mast. “Set a course we should be there in no time.” “AYE!!” resounded the crew. Finally some good news, maybe I can find some solitude.

I am absolutly LOVING this thread. It is so cool to see the tales of the "port" unfold. I'm almost done reading through the whole post. I can't wait to add to the foray. Good work.

Look at the size of those cuffs.

Yes thanks again. The hats turned out great! Hard as a rock, but they shpaed beautifully while they were wet. I was able to get minw to sit just right on my head. Had to steam and reshape my wifes a bit, but it came out great also. Thanks. I'll post some pics when I get the camera back.

Thanks for clearing up my ignorance.

Sounds good, for I too live in the south and wouldn't want that to happen to my hats. I one question though, what do you mean by 1 part white, 3lb cut? I not sure I understand. 3lb cut, is that the type of felt? And the shellac is white? Thanks again for your insight.

SO I was thinking of using beeswax and some sort of oil. Then heating it up to combine the ingredients. Next brshing it on and seeing what happens. Any suggestions? I'm not sure what is normally used.

Well a few months after the 1st PotC was out, I was running a show with Gore V. as a speaker. He said they were certainly try to bring Keith R. in some how as "Capt'n" Jack's father. So I they are trying. We'll see.

Yep thats what they look like to me. So i'm wearing them. See there is the proof that I can wear bucket boots. See, see..... Hehe... I say this in total jest. (with tongue in cheek attitude).

Ok so we all want to portray a proper image, what about speech? Is there a period dictionary available? I would love have a good reference in one place. Second, we always read on how pyrates and sailors swearing and cursing. What was considered a curse? Were they specific words? Or more just phrases? I got to thinking about one day and figured I’d post a question. Thanks.

I agree thought that "2 Bottles" was a bit much when I read it. So didn't feel that it was acurate. I really wasn't sure how strong the spirits of old would have been.

Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that the rum and other spirits was a lot stronger back then. Now days they usually cut the spirit with water in order to give the alcohol consistency. Now I have read (somewhere) that a single ration was equivalent to 2 bottles of our modern day rum. Seems a bit high to me but I could see at least the spirits of old being a lot stronger than what we get today. Anyone please fell free to correct me. I'm open for slaughtering.

Well I've kept my new cutlass pretty well oiled and It has some rust spots on it. My questions is what should I do to get it off? Steel Wool, Sand paper? (ie 600 grit wet/dry) I havn't done anything to fix it yet. I'm going to wait for some adivce. I used Mineral Oil on it. I just got some petroleum jelly and smothered it with that. Here is a pic I just took. There is some on the tip also. It looks worse in the pic than it really is. I forgot to put a penny beside it. I feel really dumb right now, I thought I was doing what I could to keep it from rusting. It hasn't been in the scabbard at all. I keep it stored in the corner of the room. Thanks in advance.

I used a 1.5" cotton weave for the trim and hand dyed the pieces gray, which came out great looking. I haven't seen it with the costume yet. Then again i'm also chaning the colors and stye of the one i've been wearing. But there it is on top of me head.

Heres the finished product My Hat I posted it in plunder. Lots of pics. Enjoy!!

So I made my own and they rock. Check it out. The Blank The Template. I used this to trim the edges fairly even and straight. A little chalk and a template. You're set. Trimming Ahh, the trimmings. Hides a lot. Freashly steamed! The Finished product. Tada!! All in all about 6 hours for the 2 hats.