Bartholomew Treate

Very well said. I think it's always good to remove our own ethnocentrisms and see things from many sides, rather than what we were taught. I enjoyed reading your thoughts. -- Bart

Morning came with the sounds of chickens clucking and cackling next to me. They had escaped from pen down at the meat market and sensing their pending doom, had obviously made a break for it, heading down Thames Street in search of safety. I reached out to one and snapped its neck. It would serve as my breakfast this morn, as soon as I could gut it and pluck it. One of the innkeepers will be happy to fry it up for me s long as I pound it down with a flagon of ale. I finished the task at hand and rose to my feet. I headed out down the street with the chicken hanging from my left hand. I saw a coach pass by, carrying the Admiral into town. I guess he had the same idea as I on this morn. I wondered when we would be heading out to sea again. Land was nothing more than a stopover for me - I loved being out on the open sea and in the heat of battle. It was my trade and my only true love. I entered the inn and handed breakfast to be over to the barmaid. She took it out back to the cookhouse and handed it to one of the slaves there. I sat at a table and ordered up some ale. The inn was mostly empty, save for a few sailors over in the corner. In another corner, head on the table was Mark Read, whom I'd crossed paths with the night before. Obviously, he had too much Killdevil the night before and ended up here, passed out in his vomit. I couldn't help but laugh. Port Royal's Killdevil had claimed another victim of this powerful elixir. I lit a pipe and enjoyed the first draw of fine Cuban tobacco. I made my plans for the day. After breakfast I would head down to the docks and see if there was any word about the coming voyage with Morgan. I wanted to make the necessary contacts to be assigned to a good ship with an equally good captain. My own fortunes depended upon it. -- --

How about "Something Wicked This Way Comes? That was dark!

I woke suddenly to voices. I quickly glanced back toward the road. Several figures were in shadows there. "Well, yer honor, we jus' figgered ye had loose coin to donate. And, as yer just a dandy dressin' the part, we'll help ye ta give it over!" I couldn't make out the man saying this but the silhouette of a military man was hard to miss. He quickly drew on the thieves and dispatched them with ease. A few men from the fort, overhearing the ruckus, came to the soldier's aid. "Corporal, do have two of your men fetch the coroner and some men to clean this mess." Obviously, it was one of the higher ranking officers. Better him than me I thought. He could at least afford to lose more than I could. I closed my eyes again, thinking how ironic it was that these thieves would have ended up the same either way on this very night.

The lovely maiden seemed to approach me. I smiled, inviting with the nod of my head to join me at the table. She smiled back and leaned down. "How's the rum, lad. A little lighter than you thought?" She laughed a rum soaked laugh and sauntered out of the inn. I could here her chortle as she stepped out onto the now dark streets of Port Royal. Damn these women of Port Royal!!!! They not only take advantage of me in the worst way, but they leave me wanting more. Why do I crave such abuse? It was nothing new though. I had a life history of choosing the wrong path in life. The wrong lines of work, the wrong people to work for, the wrong friends. So why not the wrong women? I thought for a moment about persuing her into the night. But the town was small and it wouldn't be hard to cross her path again, when the timing was better and my mind wouldn't be so rum soaked. A fight had broken out in the bar between to men of fortune over one of the tarts in the bar. She was hardly worth fighting over, even in the dim light. She was a very hefty gal, shabbily dressed with red hair. She had seen better days. But it hardly mattered to many of these blokes, who would enjoy just about anything that availed itself when they reached port. I liked to think I had a bit better taste, even if it was wrong. I finished my bottle of rum and headed out the bar, avoiding a chair that had flown across the room from one of Morgan's captains, whose amorous advances had been interrupted when a bottle of wine broke clean above his head, soaking him with red wine. He turned in a tempest and went at the two men, sword in hand. Someone would feel some hurt tonight. It was getting late, even for a town that really didn't come alive until mid-day. I decided to make my way down to the docks to find a place for some shut eye. No reason to spend money on a flea bitten bed in some shanty or sailor's quarters. As long as the stars shined, the tropics were a great place to sleep outside. It was always warm, and except during the raining season, almost always dry. I slumped down behind a few barrels. The rest of the rum was now having its desired effect. I slumbered off to sleep, but with a pirate's eye on any intruders.

I returned to my beloved bottle of rum. The Admiral had gathered his minions around him and was speaking in somewhat hushed tones. I could only hear the assignations of his desires from those gathered at the table. One of the majors from the fort had joined the discussion... strange I thought, the Admiral doesn't usually work with the more King's officers. He usually prefers his own captains and network of buccaneers. But the loss of the Oxford called for desperate measures. I wondered where they would be heading this time. Thankfully, I would soon find out regardless. As one of the better gunners on the spit, I would have my choice of duty with any captain in port. I picked up my bottle of rum for another swig. Funny, it felt about half empty and I had just started drinking before the man fell to the floor and I was called away. My mind must be playing tricks on me, I thought. Perhaps it was muddled by drinking that much rum and not recalling it. I was happily glancing an eye at a lovely maiden when I heard the second thud of the evening. A man had fallen flat at the feet of Admiral Morgan and his charges. Morgan clearly was not pleased as he call out the man to see what purpose he had of falling to the ground before him. The man quickly explained his plight. As his voice rose to defend his behaviour, I overheard him say to the Admiral, "I wish to serve you, sir, if you have a role for me." I laughed to myself and thought back to when I turned to the black trade. I was in a very similar position, though mine was from a drunken stupor. Things should get lively around here soon, I thought. No matter what the Admiral is up to I'm sure it will be a bold plan and one set out against the Spanish no doubt. The lovely maiden seemed to approach me. I smiled, inviting with the nod of my head to join me at the table.

Doglocks were indeed in heavy use in Port Royal, at least up through 1692 when the earthquake struck. Here's a great link on the artifacts as well as a history and progression of the firing mechanisms... -- http://www.geocities.com/aborgcr/PRoyal/pr...prfirearms.html

Not wishing to rile the Admiral any further and being a good soldier, I followed his order. I let my bottle half finished and made my way through the crowd to the door, pushing drunks and whores aside to make haste. I stepped once again into the street and made my way down High Street, to the Goat and Compasses. I had seen his advertisement in the local sheet. In contrast to the overcrowded Three Crownes, the Goat and Compasses was fairly empty. I made my way to the back of the building, then bounded up the stairs to the doctor's room. I knocked. Mr. Jonas P. Stenbom answered. Your services are needed immediately at the Three Crownes. A man there is in need of attention. He's fainted. Sir Henry hisself sent for you. I left the doctor to ready himself and headed back to the tavern. I hoped no one had finished my rum for me. I cared not so much for the well being of the man who now lay on the floor - it was the rum I cared for. I entered the Three Crownes and reported to all that the good doctor was on his way. Sir Henry looked pleased at my quick action. He nodded to me as I returned to my rightful place in the inn.

I sat and looked out at the water. The sun was just settling over the horizon, so the light changed the turquoise into a greenish hue. I never got tired of looking at the water in the tropics. So different from my home back in Southampton. My parents by now were most likely dead. I had left them in ill health, without no other siblings to care for them. The call of adventure was just too great. Little did I know then what I know know. That adventure can not only have great rewards, but a great cost too. I took another swig from the bottle. I thought back to the lovely lady in the church. She looked like she had a longing for adventure as much as I. She just chose to hide it behind the lace and petticoats of a lady. I had no taste for such finery, nor a taste for the finer things in life. I was happy with my station. I was an expert gunner, a stout sailor, and a fair warrior. My land skills were solid, but nothing to compare with my abilities upon the sea. I thought back to Morgan's words. Hopefully, we would be going on account once again. I could use another share or two such voyages held for those skilled or lucky enough to return. He obviously thought I had been derelict in my duties with my captain. I would have been there, except Captain Bigford was a teetotaler and not one to let drunknness go unpunished. So I just went AWOL a bit against his orders. Of course, the witnesses of this deed were now dead, so my act would go unreported to Morgan. The sun had now gone down. Evening in Port Royal. The pubs and inns would be doing a steady business tonight. Toasts to the dead. Oaths to the Spanish. Widows to console. And whores to upend. A never ending carnival of entertainment there was here. I finished my bottle and threw it into the water. I was feeling less pain than before, but I was hardly in my prime. I stumbled to my feet and headed back down Thames. There was more drink to be had and I had more coin to spend on it. I would wait to see what tonight's meeting would yield with the War Council that I assumed Henry would hold in the aftermath of the Oxford. He would waste no time in seizing upon the moment. I couldn't really blame him though. He and his bold plans were the one reason why Jamaica was in English hands still and why every attempt to retake my new home had failed miserably for all who tried. Ah, the Three Crownes is a lively place tonight. I think I shall continue my drinking here this evening. I walked up to the bar and ordered another bottle of rum. The place was crowded with mourners, opportunists and all walks of life. I took a seat at one of the long tables, just as Admiral Morgan walked in. I didn't take a moment to notice him, for the lady from the service was seated across the room.

I sat aghast as the Admiral looked me in the eye during his speech. I half thought that he believed me responsible for the explosion. That I was a saboteur. I did not know what to do next. I sank down a bit in the pew and took a swig from my bottle. If I was going to have to face Henry's wrath, I'm not about to be sober when I do. Suddenly, I spotted a striking woman in a beautiful dress. I hadn't seen her in town before. I caught her eye and she smiled and nodded in return. Ah, I always loved those classy women. Too bad she's not a ruffian who was just as likely to don a pair of breeches and take on an adventure now and then... The service ended and I made a hasty exit out the door before Sir Henry could call me out. I ducked down an alleyway and made my way to the docks. There. I sat down with my bottle and reflected on what to do next.

I look up from my drink to see Henry Morgan, hisself at the bar. Imagine that! I guess there is no bar in town that he has not been in, or the whorehouses that adorn their upper levels. A great soldier he is... none better. I served under him on several occasions and he has proven a wise and brave leader. He looks a bit out of place here in civilization. He was a bit of a dandy. Not the person I knew in the jungles of Cuba or on the streets of Puerto Principe, as she lay burning to the ground. We were not on first names. I was aboard a different vessel in the raid. But who was not in awe of the man. I rose to greet him but he had already finished his business here. He paid the barkeep and left with a bottle of the finest rum he had. A great idea I thought. If I needed to go into a church I'd better be fortified meself. I walked up to the barkeep and asked for a bottle of rum. Without asking he reached for an onion bottle on the back wall. The cheap stuff. I tossed him some coin and chuckled. I guess he already knew the difference between old Henry and I. I was not born to station nor would I ever rise to it. I popped the cork and took a swig as I stepped out onto the sandy street. The service was about to start and I owed it to my captain to be there. Particularly since I had missed my call to be aboard the Oxford last night because of too much drink. My love of liquor saved my skin it did. Henry and I had survived for entirely different reasons, but we had that much in common. The pews were already beginning to fill up when I arrived at the church. All of the town's society sat at the front with the lesser residents falling in behind. Even in the lord's house I was not a favored son and took my rightful place. I sat in the last pew in the right wing, back and away from all the wealthy, solemn, righteous and saved. This should be a grand show, I thought. A grand show, indeed.

I have read through it twice and found it very interesting and well researched. It has some good surprises to it, including the range and accuracy of the weapons of the time and the way pirates fought - now elegant with sword fights but dirty, as if their life depended on it - oh, it did. A definite must read for anyone interested in the period, tactics, technology and techniques. -- Bart

Taverns and inns have been my home for many a year now. I relish in their liveliness and the strength of their drink. It seems no matter how much wine or ale I down, I never seem as pathetic as at least one other person here. In the world outside, such is not the case. I am often considered a vagrant, a dunkard, a ne'er do well. But in a tavern I am king of the space I dwell in. As long as my coins hold out, I can do no wrong for it is these coins the innkeeper lusts after. Thankfully, I have quite a few coins left over from my last adventure with Morgan. Our raid on Puerto Principe was hardly filled with riches. Most of me mates couldn't afford to pay their debts back here in port. But my debts are few, expect those to the innkeepers and tavern owners here. I have been a soldier and a sailor long enough to know that the only thing more precious than money is having it still in your hand. Sure, I have witnessed those in the square, sitting on a keg of fine wine, forcing everyone who passes by to drink with him or risk having red wine splashed all over their finery and hear oaths that are more appropriate for the worst alehouses along Fisher's Row. Unfortnately, these poor louts are broke the next day and must ship out on the next voyage in hopes of finding more money to spend. In my time I have seen more waste than I care to remember or repeat here. I've seen horrendous and vile tortures to get the townfolk to disclose the whereabouts of their valuables. I've seen women molested as their children cry nearby. It's not a lot that I am necessarily proud of but which is so much a part of me that I don't remember a gentler life. For me, my friends are a cutlass and a pistol. Everyone else is either dead or have betrayed me. And yet, I look at these two fine gents in the pub and wonder how nice it would be to have a lively conversation with someone else. But I have become used to being a loner and perhaps it is for the better. For I have seen too many of my friends perish in the line of fire - two headed angels, grapeshot, a blade to their guts or a pistol shot to the head. Yes, it is better to be alone with my drink. "Barkeep! Another tankard here and send a couple over to those fine gents as well. They look like they could use a little extra courage on this day." The gentlemen glance over and nod their thanks. I nod back and return to my drink, wondering what the day will hold for me here in Port Royal.