Brig

I can't wait to hear it, Nell!

Aye, Wendell is one of the pranksters at the fort. His story is this:

In 1968-69 a dig was begun at Fort Taylor to unearth the Civil War era treasures, i.e., cannon, ammo and such. This dig came on the heels of Fort Jefferson being recognized for its service during the War of Rebellion. The U.S. Navy held the title to the Fort Taylor property at that time. Someone wrote a letter to the Miami Herald newspaper wondering why Fort Jefferson was being recognized when Fort Taylor played a far more important role in the War of Rebellion. "Fort who?" was essentially the answer. As it turned out the letter made way to the U.S. Navy commander's office in Key West. He was new on station and not familiar with the property (which was being used as a "storage"---read junk--yard). The CO called in his XO who was also new on station and not familiar with the property. They then called in the head of Public Works. That's right, he, too, was new on station. However, in this third meeting a civilian came along. Mr. Howard England, an architect with the navy here, grew up in Key West and he and his buds used to play at the fort when they were kids. He believed there were tons of "treasures" holed up in the old fortress. The Navy brass congratulated Mr. England on his new position of chief excavator of Fort Taylor. Now, the fort used to be three stories tall until 1898. At that time, the top two tiers of the fort along with nearly 200 Civil War cannon, ammo, and such were buried inside the old cannon rooms (casemates). Over the course of 12 years, Mr. England, his sons and anyone else he could get to volunteer would spend their days digging out the casemates looking for treasures. One day while Mr. England was down in Casemate 13 (on the southside of the fort) he uncovered a device that was used for turing sea water into potable water. Amazing device for its day. But his search was for cannon. He's taking a break from the dig, resting up against the wall of the casemate when he spies a figure standing across from him. This figure is dressed in the uniform of CW soldier. Time stands still for a moment. The figure blurts out to Mr. England, "What be ye lookin' fer sonny?" Mr. England obviously is somewhat taken aback but manages to reply, "I'm looking for cannon." The figure instructs Mr. England to dig in a specific spot. It further explains that it knows where all cannon are buried because he served at this fort and died at this fort from one of the Yellow Fever outbreaks. The figure goes on to say he's watched all the changes to Fort Taylor and is happy that the fort will finally receive its due. After thinking about this, Mr. England decides to dig where the figure told him. The result of that dig was all the cannon you saw mounted in the casemates. The story about this find hits the press (I do have a copy of the story from the Atlanta Constitution). At the end of the story the reporter asks how all of the weaponry was discovered. Mr. England explains it was because of a Sergeant Wendell Gardiner--a spirit of Fort Taylor from years past. Some six weeks later, Mr. England is paid a visit from some folks from Massachusetts. They wanted to personally thank Mr. England for learning what had happened to a long lost relative who served at Fort Taylor in the early 1860s and believed to have died there--a Sergeant Wendell Gardiner.

Now, so you don't think for one minute I'm making this up, I do have a copy of the press clipping and I do have copies of Mr. England's notes where he writes about this incident.

Wow, that's fantastic, Harry. Wendell can drink from my cup anytime!

You guys rock! I love the threads!!!!

And just for the record... like many a fellas who have also had crazy-nutso-psycho-girl-fiends.....Harley was my sent-a-mentally ill favorite batman character!! Can you say "Hi Baby.. Mamma home!!!

So for those Harley fans.. I offer this!!

Warning: this video is way cool and will have you singing along even after it's over!!

Haha, I love it! Thanks for sharing, Rats :]

Seriously! You need something nice and trouble free, Captain...that comes in pairs...like, I dunno, twins or something. I know where you can find a set!

(Kidding, Lilly...don't throw me out of the tent!! ))

First, we have more than our full of twins. My Word, the poor man is surrounded by them..

As for throwing "Thing 1 & Thing 2" out of the Captain's tent....no fear in that, my Dear, I thought you two preferred sleeping outside…with the Dogge?

Well, when you're the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything...you take what you can get.

This is a costume that Tracy made for Liam. The letter opener really sells it.

*Just dies of the cute*

That is awesome. Pretty much everything in this thread is incredible, but that...winner.

Mistress McKinney ...the idea is NOT to be caught in the act! First you are pregnant then ...THIS!

John, I told you she was trouble.

Seriously! You need something nice and trouble free, Captain...that comes in pairs...like, I dunno, twins or something. I know where you can find a set!

(Kidding, Lilly...don't throw me out of the tent!! ))

While the image above may not be particularly spooky in and of itself, it is essential to the grim tale I am about to share. Okay, so it's not all that grim, but at 3:00 in the morning with a rum-soaked head, it was enough to make me want to hide under Lilly's cot and squeal.

I call it...

"Who the Hell is Wendell?!!"

In the wee hours Monday morning, I staggered back to the encampment to find Mister Wobble and some mates sharing a bottle of Pyrat Rum. I had managed to hold onto my cup all evening, the one on the right in the picture above, and Willie was kind enough to fill it up for me. We chatted for a few minutes, then I headed to the tent to find some more comfortable shoes to wear for the rest of my waking hours.

Mae and I were bunking with Sterling and the mistress and the snotties, and it was no small feat to make it, drunk and in the dark, to the back corner of the tent where my things were. I remember giving myself detailed instructions in my head, with that remarkable clarity of mind that comes with knowing that any of the people you might step on in the dark could very likely be armed and dangerous. It went something like this: Remember to step over mister Merriweather, who’s lying sound asleep right in the doorway. Don’t run into the captain’s coffin bed, you don't want to fall in and have to explain that to Lilly. Don’t step on that impossibly small bundle of blankets because Mae is probably in the middle of it somewhere. Watch out for the guns, just a few more steps, is that my chemise and how did it get there? And so on.

Finally I made it to my small mound of belongings and began excavating. No shoes. And these shoes would be hard to miss- they were leopard print flats that even my half-blind, tipsy self would see. Must be in the car. I grabbed my keys and navigated the perils of the tent again, making it out and halfway across the encampment before I realized my cup was no longer in my possession. Back to camp. I checked all the picnic tables outside the tent, checked at the Hide for good measure, and finally decided I must have left it in the tent. I narrowly missed Sean on my way in this time...poor thing was nearly woken up by my left foot, in a most gruesome way. After all that, no cup. I dig through my pile of clothing and trinkets again, feel all around on the floor, nothing. Then I look up, and on the sea chest just across from me, a cup! It was all shining light and choral music, like a Monty Python-esque grail. Until I picked up the cup. Damn...it was Mae's, the one with the rougher grain and larger coin. I peeked inside just to make sure that we hadn't swapped cups at some point in the evening, but no. Dry as a bone.

Somehow I managed to get outside again with no incident. Back across the encampment, past the hide where a grand time was being had by all, to the line of cars beyond the warm light of the lanterns and fires. I heard someone calling my name, and turned in a circle about three times before realizing it was Leatherback, who was sitting in his car about three spaces down from mine waiting for his captain. I stopped and chatted for a few minutes, pretending to be much more sober than I actually was. I remember something about waiting for Jai who had been sent to fetch Spike and something about feeding someone's dogs and good lord it was already almost 3:00am.

I excused myself after a few minutes and went to my car, fumbling in the dark for my keys and getting the trunk open after several abortive attempts. I looked blankly at the pile of costume odds and ends, tentatively moving aside Jack's wanted poster and trying to decide how to proceed. Just then...I spotted IT. For a brief moment, I was remarkably, painfully sober.

Under the poster, on top of a yellow petticoat, was my cup.

My hand shook as I reached for it, my brain scrambling for some explanation. I must have been mistaken earlier...that was my cup in the tent, and this was Mae's. Easy. Why, then, was the inside of this cup damp, and a few drops of rum lingering in the bottom, when the other was bone dry? I sniffed it, and licked the inside. Pyrat Rum. Mae had been asleep for hours, and I knew for a fact that she had only had Malibu and Sprite in her cup all day. This cup had the smoother grain, the smaller coin- it was the very same cup that Willie had filled up for me not ten minutes before. I even double-checked the bottom of it, and "Brig" was written there in red Sharpie. I think my skin froze over. I hadn't been out to the (locked) car all day, and my keys- the only set- had been in the tent until I fetched them to look for my shoes.

Slamming the trunk with little regard for any sleeping friends and neighbors, I grabbed the cup and ran back to Leatherback's car. With chattering teeth I told him the tale, tripping over words in my haste to express my awe and terror. Apparently he understood enough, and his reaction didn't help any. "I...don't want to think about that too much." He said quietly, his face greenlit from the car's dash lights. Spike showed up just then, and I quickly told him the saga. "Oh, that's probably Wendell," was his chipper reply. "He's been out playing tricks tonight." I grasped onto this small shred of logic.

"Who the hell is Wendell?!! And how did he get into my trunk?"

Wendell, Spike patiently explained, is one of the fort ghosts. Apparently he's been known to follow reenactors back to the encampment and had been up to all manner of mischief that night.

I don't think I even said goodbye to the good captain and Leatherback before I skittered back to the warm glow of the Hide and the company gathered there. I ran into Willie first, who patiently listened to my story and then told me I was full of shite and needed to drink more before trying to direct me to the wrong tent at least three times.

For the next hour until I went to bed I told the tale to anyone who would listen. Most listened politely, some skeptical, others more enthusiastic. MD was convinced that some green fairy would make sense of it all. It didn't, but it sure livened the telling of the story for the next few victims. The general opinion seemed to be that I had either had far too much or far too little to drink, and that the only cure for either was to drink more, sleep on it, and it would all make sense in the morning. Four days later, I think I'm starting to sober up, and I still can't make hide nor hair of it.

At this stage, I think there's only one thing I can respectably do. Forgive Wendell, hope he enjoyed the rum, and be grateful that he at least returned the cup.

The End.

Captain Jim pointed out to me that I was there in spirit, and he's right. If you look closely...

Whew...that's some scary stuff!

I'm starting to think of me and Mae as The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. We're working on it, I promise! Hopefully at the next event we'll be able to contribute something besides making scenes on the beach with a Beach.

Thank you all for being so great- we love you very much!

the dice - that's hilarious!! Who's idea was that? Very cute!!!

It was a halloween costume from many years ago that I had tucked in a back room at my last job and forgot about. I came across them a few months ago and put 2 and 2 together. I'm glad the cappy donned it with Chrispy I had been rolled enough (falling down and such) by the last night to have the energy.

They were great. It was really funny.

I was on the ghost hunt Sunday night, in one of the outer rooms of the fort, and Harry was telling a very deep and meaningful story- and then Spike and Chrispy ran by in those dice and I thought I was going to break ribs, I was trying so hard not to laugh. With apologies to Harry, that was brilliant!

You know, it would be nice if someone down there was able to scrounge up a lockable cabinet of some sort for the display. Even if it could be borrowed from a PiP-friendly local vendor for the weekend. 3-1/2 hours sitting around in the occasionally airless fort with a static display that people will probably only glance at is an awful long time. Just a thot.

I was thinking along the same line...Perhaps a rope-line and fishing nets beyond that to keep people off the table, or to ensnare anyone who ventured too close. An unmanned table would need some sort of signage to explain what all the loot on the table was about.

On the other hand it would be nice to let the prospective victi...uh, I mean bidders...handle the goods to be sold and a live body being enthusiastic about the sale goes a long way toward sparking interest.

Or a laser intrusion alert system...pressure-sensitive table pad...holographicly projected Pyrate giving the speil...What's our budget again? Oh, yeah, never mind.

Just give me and Mae a couple of cannons...we'll keep an eye on the stuff! See, that's what went wrong with my crowd control attempts...I wasn't properly armed.

There are so many!! Ugh, I'll try to keep it reasonable...

The impromptu photo shoot on the beach that started with Mae and Katie walking in the water and just went downhill in great ways.

Having the honor of helping Captain Jim and Spike with the auction, and getting to help cut Patrick's hair.

The ghost hunts- especially the first night, when MD kindly walked me back to the haunted latrines because I was too chicken to go alone.

Reuniting with friends- The wonderful Archangels, Leatherback, Jai, Mudbeggar, Nigel, and the rest of the fantastic BIB crew.

Running to catch up with the pirates in the parade- and then running to catch up with them again because we stopped for a drink.

Fitting Mickey, Katie, me, Mae, Willie, and I forget how many others into the Souris van for the mad dash to said parade.

Hearing the Ballad of the Bone Island Buccaneers for the first time.

Talking with Fergus in the fort.

Seeing Jack's wanted poster, and being given the honor of starting the DVD he worked on from last year.

Talking with Nell for a few minutes at the Hide Sunday night.

My walk back to the encampment with Silverhawk.

Laughing til I cried at Mission and Stynky at the Hide- especially Stynky trying to hide Mission's bone saw in his waistcoat. "You'll cut your arm off!"

Having my cup stolen and returned empty by Wendell, who is apparently one of the Fort's trickster ghosts (Will make a post dedicated to THAT incident later on).

The hanging- BRAVO to everyone involved.

And, of course, being awoken by MD and Sterling in the middle of the night. "You're just trash! Trash in a coffin!"

I love the Harley Quinn character. The episode where she tries to go straight is hilarious. (It looks like a cool costume - where's the full length color version? And the hood?)

She's my absolute favorite. Here's the full thing, picture quality is crap, though. And sadly, the hood was missing when I got the costume and didn't come in in time.

Harley Quinn, Halloween '06

Annnnd some dance costumes Mae (far left) and me (far right) made last year.

Nothing to see here folks, now move along....

Bwahahaha! I'll keep your dollar safe til I see you again!

Ack... Robbie and Hounddogge

going back to bed now and tying the tent shut... with knots, lots of them

From their corner of the tent, Mae and Brig watch as the captain ties himself in...and grin.

St. Augustine is only about 2 - 2 1/2 hours from here...hm... *starts plotting*

Brig Posted Today, 01:23 PM

Poor Dogge. Can't you fellas see that he's just a victim here? sad.gif 'sides, you can't kill him. He's useful and stuff. *nods*

Uuggg...got me through with a stake through the heart.

Turned in by me own. I feel so betrayed. Sorry Mickey, I think the wind has been removed from me sails.

Do with him what you wish. First I miss PiP. Now this... I for one will find a corner of a tavern to whittle away in.

(Although an oatmeal bomb sent out of a blunderbuss sounds interesting.)

I only speak the truth! The poor man is OBVIOUSLY suffering!

I have some suitable revenge for her as well.... a certain comprimising photo of the mistress and a certain red coated soldier.... Hahahah

DON'T YOU DARE...YOU...YOU....CANADIAN YOU!!

Hahaha!! I'll give you a dollar, Mickey!

Poor Dogge. Can't you fellas see that he's just a victim here? 'sides, you can't kill him. He's useful and stuff. *nods*

Happy birthday, dearie!

Thank you to everyone who made this event possible. I can't tell you how great it was, but if you were there, I probably don't have to anyway!

To the Bone Island Buccaneers, you guys are one of the best parts of the event for me. Thank you so much for all your hard work and your passion for what you do. You're good people.

To the crew of the Archangel, you always amaze me anew with your kindness and humor. It's like Christmas every time I get to be with you all. A special thanks to Captain Sterling for providing the terror twins with a place to sleep at night, and to M.A.d'Dogge for the green fairy and the ghost hunting fun, and countless laughs.

To the Callahans, just...wow. Thank you.

A special thanks to Katie and Mickey for the great pictures and company, Mission for keeping up the journal for another year, and really, I could go on and on. There were so many people who made this event great by contributing some part of themselves. I can't list all of you, but know that you are appreciated.

Finally, thank you to Mae for not fussing at me every night when I'd stagger into the tent and step on you a few times while trying to put my inebriated self to bed.

I think I'm still recovering...having that much fun is exhausting. I can't wait for next year.

Mae and I had an uneventful trip home, fueled on junk food, deafening music, and iced coffee. There's Key West sand all in my car, and I can't quite convince myself that I need to vacuum it out.

We're leaving tonight, be there for breakfast in the morning!!

Antsy...still a lot to do before heading to PiP

Nightwish - Dead Boy's Poem