Jacky Tar

A very Happy Birthday Chain Shot! I hope ye hav a chance t' enjoy yer natal day.

Best wishes, an I'll drink a toast t' yer next fifty years!

'Fore I retreated t' my cabin that night, Stones asked, why didn't I let Spoons drown? I replied, "Mayhaps, if the fates allow it, next time."

Driftin' off in me bunk, the dream begins wit the smell o' spent powder, an the ringin' sound o' sword against steel. I find myself fightin' my way t' the quarterdeck, o' the Spanish ship.

A shout from behind me, causes me t' turn, an I attempt t' block the thrust o' a blade intended fer me back. The Spaniard's blade pierces me in the chest, an it is all I can do t' return a fatal blow t' his throat, wit' me cutlass.

As I lie on the quarterdeck, wit' breath an blood leavin' my body, I feel life slippin' away. It is then that someone lifts my head, an says, "Drink this!" I try t' swallow, but spit most of it up, mixed wit' my own blood. My eyes flutter, an I see it's Spoons tryin' t' tend my fatal wounds. Then he pulls the blade from my chest, an he says, "You'll not be dying t'day, not on my watch!" He then pours somethin' on my chest wound. It's always at this point that I sit up in bed, clutchin' my chest, an realize I'm still alive.

Wipin' the beads o' sweat from my head, I mutter, "Not t'day Spoons, not on my watch!"

Super Market

(Well hardly... but here's t' 2009!)

I don't know why, but that photo looks like a classic TV promotion still.

William, I was thinkin' the very same thing...

Great picture Kenneth, kudos t' the photographer!

As the lads pulled a very soggy Spoons aboard, Dillard pointed out another ship which had come in t' view.

"Orders, Mister Tar?" Dillard asked. "If their just passin' through, let 'em pass. But if they get too close, a friendly warnin' across their bow would be in order; since, were fresh out o' ghosts!" I replied. Mister Dillard chuckled, an knuckled his forehead.

"What about Spoons?" Stones asked. "Show Spoons t' the brig, give 'em some dry clothes, an some food. But make it clear t' all, that Spoons will not be receivin' any visitors, fer the rest o' this voyage," I said. Spoons avoided my gaze, an was led off wit' out any further exchange.

"Blast!" I muttered, "Why doesn't the fool swim fer shore?" Doggedly, Spoons just stayed there, treadin' water.

As I pondered Spoons fate, our current course brought us within hailin' distance o' our former crew mate. I walked t' rail, and hollered, "Seems yer no longer welcome aboard any ship in these waters."

T' which he replied, "Aye, the Spanish aren't much for long good-byes, either."

"I'll make ye an offer." I shouted, "We'll throw ye a line, and then it's straight t' the brig. Wot say ye?"

She does the reenactors proud, an we'd be crazy not t' acknowledge here attention t' detail. Calls herself, a river pirate, an coffee proprietress these days, I believe.

If yer listenin' Chole, I wish ye a Happy Birthday, an many more t' come.

Just drinking? Hope yer birthday was filled wit' much more!

A very Happy Birthday Sir William!

(I'd write somethin' more flowery, but the Red Wake PR firm beat me t' it. Ye arr very blessed indeed, sir.)

I'm sure yer out doin' somethin' important like buildin' a boat, drainin' a swamp, or pickin' out a swell, feels like hollywood, pirate outfit.

But just in case ye wander in t' this here pub, on yer birthday, I do hope yer day is a happy one.

Oi, an please post the pics, o' yer good self, wit' the day-glo feather boa, an satin shirt (bedazzled wit' the skull an crossbones).

All the evidence seems t' show, that the dogg was havin' a nap, an a snack. Poor ol' tired dogg!

On the other hand, I says ye need t' watch the Canadian fella...

I climbed back on deck, an went t' the railin' amidships, an said, "Ghosts away!"

T' my surprise, not just a few glimmers o' silver light, below the water's surface, were headin' in the direction o' the galleon. "El Diablo, must o' known every spirit in these waters!" I said, wit' some admiration.

Stones wondered outloud wot' Ol' Stinky might do wit' a warship.

"That remains t' be seen." I replied, "More importantly, will he use it against us?"

(Hi Hester!)

Ol' Reliable

Geisel

(His last name)

As I neared the galley, I heard wot' sounded like a fight t' the death. Peerin' in t' the galley, I spied Rosie astride a prostrate sailor, wit' her knife pressed against his throat.

"Easy Rosie, wot ever he said 'bout yer cookin', it's not worth killin' em!" I said, wit' a small wry smile.

Crouchin' down t' see the face o' the poor unfortunate sailor, I sputtered, "Dillard... Didn't I give ye an order t' stay out o' the galley? I should let Rosie dispatch ye, fer disobeyin' a direct order, again!"

I pleaded, "Rosie, I really need this lad, right now."

I don't know if it were me pleadin', or the fact that she had made her point; she withdrew her blade, stood up, an spat, "Swine!"

As Dillard scrambled t' his feet, I said, "We'll talk 'bout this later. Fer now, help ready the cannons, an be quick 'bout it!"

"If that's the galleon I think it be, we must fight em here, or risk havein' em dog us all the way t' Florida." I growled, "I don't suppose they came all this way t' make us any better offers."

I sniffed at the air, the smell o' sulphur had returned, an I remarked, "Aye lads, mayhaps the locals can give us a hand wit' yon galleon, instead!"

I went below, t' let El Diablo know there was a galleon that was his for the takin'.

Someone light some candles 'cause Stynky's in the house... an it's his Natal Day!

Best wishes mate, an thanks fer givin' us a place t' celebrate.

I hope yer dreams o' joinin' up wit' Space Cowboys, an Air Pirates, don't mean yer leavin' us earth (an sea) bound ones behind.

A very Happy Birthday Sir!

Please fergive me late reply... A very Happy (Belated) Birthday, Kenneth!

Everyone aboard laughed, an pointed at the choice o' the flag o' truce, flyin' from the main o' the sloop. "Lord help us, now that fool is pantless!" I remarked.

A shout rang out, from the crows nest, as a galleon heave in t' view.

"Haul up the anchor, an signal the Rakehell, we need t' put out t' sea." I shouted, "Smithe, signal the sloop t' follow!"

Jack Sparrow is a Hollywood "feels like history" character.

Wot!!!! Damn, ye mean I hav t' grow dreads?

Aye, Iron Bess said, my bucket boots made me look historical, or was that hysterical? Doesn't matter, if they're good enough fer Jack, they're good enough fer me.

Go nuts. Satin shirt, day-glo feathers, the works. Big ol' S&B on yer hat? Why not?

Jim's lack o' fashion sense aside, at many o' the pirate ren faires, on the west coast, pirates wear the Skull & Crossbones (fer better or worse).

Wear wot ye like lass, yer a pirate after all!

Many here hav a eye fer things shiny, too; so if ye mean t' wear em, best keep yer pistol, or cutlass, close by.

"Did I hear her correct?" I asked t' the sailor standin' next t' me, "Did she say that fool, Nate, is aboard that sloop?"

I began t' pace the deck, an I muttered, "An I only had the lads fire a warnin' shot!"

Happy Thanksgiving t' all those who frequent the pub!

Now where's that turkey leg?