Jacky Tar

Me thinks somebody has been readin' a few too many bedtime stories, t' the little pirates! (Or do the big pirates on yer ship still sleep wit' a night light?)

A very Happy Birthday Black Rory Harper! Take wot ye can (an knowin' ye) ye always give more back.

Dillard's long face, an the fact that no one had seen hide nor hair of Silkie, told me that indeed the Spanish had netted her. Wot now? Would the galleon set sail in the mornin'? Would they open fire on us, now that they had her, if given the chance? And wot o' the cannon fire t' the north? Did the long boat reach the Rakehell? Wit' the comin' daylight, we'd best hav a plan o' action.

Moths got balls! Who knew? Dead Bugs = Raid (Aye, an durin' mating season, they make it very difficult fer the poor buggers t' fly!) Pillage

Jacky spots Miss St. Claire, at her favorite card table, fleecin' the locals. He circles in behind her t' plant a kiss on her Cheeky, and then begins a hasty retreat, after so brash a gesture. Happy Natal Day, me lady!

moth balls

Jacky pulls up a bar stool, t' listen t' the Harper play. "Tis good t' hav ye back on dry land, away from the frigid seas. Yer music is always welcome here, as is yer self. No doubt, when Iron Bess hears yer here, she'll do more than sing yer praises."

mountain oysters

Kid? She's a pup no more, fer she's a Shepard full grown. (I know t' their mums they'll always be kids.)

Devil of a ... goodtime! The word t' associate is: goodtime (Pirate get t'gethers)

Lady 'B', a very Happy Birthday, t' ye lass. Let's hope this trip around the sun brings a bit more o' the shiny, an a blessed year.

Dillard stood there, wit' his mouth agape, as the scene unfolded. "Mister Dillard, it appears our efforts t' snag the galleons rudder, hav been thwarted. See that the rope is pulled back aboard, an hav Stones secure that anchor." I said t' him, "... and Mister Dillard, they're Spanish; more than likely they've netted one o' their own. So, step lively man, an keep an eye out fer Silkie."

Aye, welcome back, Rumba. Now t' work an post yer pictures!

Aye, BHP kissin' an tellin', again. Jants, saw yer Batman costumes, amazin' work lad!

(Huh! This from the lass that brought us Rosie Palm?) Shoefly

nymphomaniac (Some say it's curable... I say, why bother?)

Didn't see anyone post 'bout this weekends' event. Pirate Charles band is playin' Saturday, May 10th, on the Main Stage. Here's the link: http://www.goldcoastfestivals.com/ojairen/renpg1.html

The unmistakeable sound of a cannon in the distance, seemed t' hav awaken everyman on board the galleon. The capitan had called fer all hands on deck, an their decks were swarmin' wit' sailors an marines. "This is bad timin'." I muttered, as I watched the sleepin' galleon spring t' life. I scanned the dark waters anxiously, tryin' t' get a glimpse o' Silkie. There was too much activity near the stern o' the galleon, fer her not t' be noticed. "Come on lass, abort the mission, 'fore yer spotted." I wanted t' shout, but it was too late. There was lot's o' yellin', an I couldn't be sure, but it looked like a cargo net had been tossed overboard near the stern. Men were either pushed or jumped in t' the water, an somethin' was dragged in t' a waitin' long boat.

I turned back t' Silkie, an said seriously, "I wouldn't worry 'bout sharks, but should a gator swim out t' meet ye, get yer self back on this ship." "Ye needn't concern yer self 'bout yer state o' undress either, I've had Smithe lower the last long boat in t' the water, an ye can disrobe there." I directed her toward the port side ladder, down t' the long boat. "Come around t' the starboard side, when yer able, an Stones will drop a rope t' ye. Just run the rope 'bout the rudder o' the galleon, and yer labors will be done."

Welcome t' the club, Patrick. It's a slippery slop this side o' that mid-point. Don't know if it is a time o' crisis, but it does give one pause. Well on t' celebratin' fifty more. Happy Birthday Patrick!

The Jas Townsend people sell well made products, in me humble opinion. I've purchased a pair o' the fall front knee breeches and their hand finished tricorn; the tricorn I ordered wit' black trim and sans cockade, is a bargain at $35. Now fer the purists, the breeches are machine sewed, but very nicely made. The tricorn is wool an not fur felt; they sell a fur felt hat which is considerably more expensive. The good folks at Jas Townsend are honest merchants, an won't sell ye inferior products.

(Jacky is runnin' around, tryin' t' scare up a birthday cake, fer Haunting Lily's Natal day *pun intended*) Please save a dance fer ol' Jacky, dear Lily. I trust yer birthday celebration is still in full swing.

Damnation!! Professional courtesy, bugger that! Too kind fer a pyrate... Ah! Sterling, aren't ye late fer yer own hangin'? We don't extend the same courtesy t' pirate hunters. Oi! Gather round lads an lasses, wit' Sterling, we get a twofer... We can hav a ship sinking an a hangin'!

Aye, MadL! A lass this time. Nay, Wicked Genia, we don't make it a habit o' sinkin' other pirate's ships; professional courtesy dictates that we don't usually attack one another, in port.

The long boat had long passed out o' sight, an the sun was beginning t' set. I sent Smithe t' wake Silkie. Stones had prepped our gift fer the galleon, an we just needed Silkie t' loop the rope 'bout their rudder, under the cover o' darkness. Dillard remarked 'bout our good fortune, wot wit' their bow still pointin' north and ours south. "Aye, the anchor will allow us time t' put some distance 'tween us, and their long guns." I remarked. I wondered out loud, wot was takin' Silkie, so long.