Ian Finn

www.portroyalpirateweather.com? Well done!

Aye, 'tis true Captain.

Fine, fine. Permission t' off a character, fine. Ano'er r'quest: Can someone make 't known th' time o' day once 'n awhile. 'Tis 'ard t' write when 't th' end, 'tis a diff'rnt day or time than th' post after yours. I mean, rain, daytime, and so forth. And we'll promise t' be goode.

Port Royal, Jamaica between 1660 and 1730 was not the backdrop for a Harlequin Romance novel. It was a modern day (back then) Sodom and Gomorrah, "the wickedest city on earth." "The early 1670's began a twenty-year boom where Port Royal became a large and busy port rivaling even Boston- a city of over 7000 practically overrun by buccaneers who were as despised for the drunkenness and prostitution as they were loved for their loot." The Pirate's Realm "By the 1660s, the city had gained a reputation as the Sodom of the New World where most residents were pirates, cutthroats, or prostitutes. When Charles Leslie wrote his history of Jamaica, he included a description of the pirates of Port Royal: Wine and women drained their wealth to such a degree that… some of them became reduced to beggary. They have been known to spend 2 or 3,000 pieces of eight in one night; and one gave a strumpet 500 to see her naked. They used to buy a pipe of wine, place it in the street, and oblige everyone that passed to drink." Wikipedia If we are to be as truly accurate as possible, then we must paint the picture as it truly was. Welcome t' th' Caribbean luv.

Oi Liam was piss drunk when he wrote that, we talked about tings today. If you guys are going to make rules, weather they be a common or general courtesy or not, in order for everyone to be on the same page they should be physically listed somewhere. I spent some time looking through the story and this side thread, no rules listed that I see. If it's such a bloody problem, you fix your end and I'll see if I can get Liam to change things.

Wonderful. Th' storm kin 'ide a mult'tude o' sins.

The rain continued to deluge on us. We had left the still warm body of the drunkard in the alley and ran down the alleyway to the wharf, finding a darkened covered stoop. Several lanterns dotted the harbor hanging from sterncastles on the myriad of traders and warships in Port Royal harbor. Our eyes scanned the scene looking for the La Maligna. Bolts of lightning crossed the sky like scars ripping open the black veil of night. Following it's well-lit brother, claps of thunder rolled across the landscape keeping what townsfolk may be about inside for the evening. "D'ya see 'er Liam?" I asked my brother. He frowns, "n't yet." The rain now comes in sheets creating puddles and rivulets where the carriages rode through town. We squint and move from awning to stoop down the wharf looking for our target in the harbor.

"Aye," I said looking at my brother and then back to the large man in front of us. "We 'ave 'n agreement."

My brother and I looked over our shoulders and moved closer to the table trying to figure out if this was a trap. In a hushed whisper, I asked , "So ye want 'er guns tak'n out, but no damage t' th' ship? Why not jus' take th' Cap'n?" The Spaniard sat back in his chair and crossed his hands before him with his index fingers tapping his upper lip. "Gentlemen, if that were the case, wouldn't you think I could do it myself?" Liam furrowed his brow and rested his elbows on the table. "Why can the Mah-lee-nah not use 'er guns, but mus' stay afloat? 'Twould b' easier t' sink 'er no?" The Spaniard shifted in his seat with his gaze never changing. "'ow many guns would ye say on 'er now Spaniard?" I asked the man sitting before us.

Liam and I stood in the alley waiting for the Spanish men to exit. "Mister," we whisper to him quietly. "Coin y' say," I reply. "'S long 's th' drunk isn't involved, we may b' yer men. Let 's walk from 'ere.""

"Firs owf, me an' me bruddah werk alone. An' as fer th' city burnin' dinnot know wha' ye be gettin' at sah. Me an' me bruddah 're mere sailors tryin' t' book voyage 'ome," I said to the man rolling a gold coin around his fingers. Liam stood up then spoke up, "Th' city's burned b'fore an' it'll prolly burn ag'in. Gentlemen," Liam nods and places the tankard back on the bar. I bow slightly and follow Liam out the door keeping one on the drunk at the bar, and one on the man with the gold coin.

I'd take me bruddah. We kin fend fer ourselves.....

"Mayhaps ye b' tinkin' a bit a'ead o' yerself sa'. Me bruddah an' I been 't th' wharf fer th' day seekin' passage t' 'ispaniola. Ye better watch yer tongue wit statements like 'at." Mygaze narrowed at the man and simultaneously as my hand sat on my pistol's stock, my brother's moved to his as well. "We mean no trouble sa', jus' dinnot like ta get mixed up wit tines we dinnot 'ave part 'f." The man laughed again and waved his hand to the seats nearest him. Liam and I looked at each other and stood still waiting for a reply.

"Lookit th' git Liam," pointing at some man running down the strret with buckets in his hands. "e'll need a bit more 'n that bruddah," Liam replies to me. The street had begun to fill to with onlookers and those trying to put out the fire. Several finely dressed sailors, captains to be assumed made started making their way back to the wharf. Watching the town begin to erupt into chaos. Liam and I smile and cross our arms.

Aye. Th' dead pool 'as already started. Watch yer backs, ye players of Port Royal.

Liam and I made our way through the back alley until we reached the wharf. It was then that we found a cobbler's shop with the front door open. A bell rings but no one comes forth. We look around the back room for anyone but only come upon two cats purring about in a pile of sheeps wool. A staircase ascends in the corner and we follow it upward. This upper level has nothing but extra bits of leather and wooden soles, as well as several pairs of boots and finely crafted shoes. A narrow ladder goes upwards again and we climb it to find ourselves in the attic. Light from the small window helps us creep towards the attic door opening onto the roof. Looking due south towards the Inn, dark black smoke can be now seen billowing upwards. The winds are carrying it just east of town, away from the town center. "Hope we dinnat innerupt th' weddin'," I say laughing. We lean against the roof edge by the door as the townsfolk begin to yell near the Inn. "Well done bruddah." Liam and I nod and shake hands as if a formal declaration of War was just signed.

Peering into the back door of the pub we could see no patrons around. Liam stood low behind the bar so no one who looked into the window could see either of us. Pulling a candle that is still barely lit, I cover the flame with my hand so it does not blow out. I walk into the back room where we have lain the bodies. I place the candle gently on the floor illuminating the bloated corpses of both men. Ripping a piece of clothing from the Inn keepers body, I roll it into a tight strand. I lit one end of it against the candle and throw the burning cloth on top of the rum soaked body. Very slowly the flame creeps outward and onto the floor lighting the bodies discharge. Watching to make sure the whole room catches, I close the door but leave it slightly ajar as to keep the flames lit. I slap my brother on the shoulder as we exit the back door slowly watching the orange tongue creep ever skyward. The bells of the nearby church toll as many passersby continue to stroll in that direction.

"Aye, set 'im by th' door. We'll 'ave t' drag 'im out inna th' street. 'e's stinkin' up th' place right awful." Liam and I drag the bloated carcass until it leans by the door. "e's leakin' Ian." A puddle begins to form under the body. "Fer fek's sake." I kick the body over and it lands with a thud against another barrel. "I say we take 'im t' th' wharf an' burn 'im." "Or," Liam says, "we put 'im back where 'e came from." We rummage through the crates and barrels until we can find enough powder and shot we can carry. I pull out a musket and place it against the door. "Wot ye need tha' fer?" my brother asks. "Tie 'is arms t'gether an' run th' musket through 'em. I ain't carryin' tha' sod all th' way back t' th' inn." Liam nods in agreement. He opens the door and looks both ways, "Less go." We pull the body into the street and hear the hiss of a cat followed by the clop-clop of hooves in the main road. We drop the body and stand tall in the shadows. A lantern appears at the end of the alley and gradually becomes larger. Liam slides his dagger from his belt as I do the same. Suddenly the light stops and turns. "Over here!!" another voice cries from across the street. Liam and I exhale slowly as the alley returns to darkness.

Yikes!! Well health does not run rampant in these parts. Jus' a Guinness and some Shepard's Pie fer me an' me bruddah Mister Red Wake sar.

Okay. Spam a la' Killingsworth was not the plan. Could be, but wasn't.

Candlelight or Electric light?

^ Blue < I'm actually a pretty good cook. I won a local chili contest. V What's your highest level of formal schooling?

"Less' find th' body Ian." Liam says to me as we sip from the keg. "Wh' we gonna do wit' a dead, rum soaked body?" I ask him. "I gots 'n idear."

Mebbe. Mebbe we'll jus' light 't on fire an' roll 't inta the Inn.

I wake up to find the ladies gone and a pounding at my door. I slide my breeches back on and grab a bottle from the table. I sniff the mixture and take a long drink from the bottle as the pounding continues. I rub my head and pull the handle open, Liam stands before me smiling. "Ya got anythin' left bruddah?" he asks with a grin. "Whaddya mean, shillings or..." "Shillings o' course," he cuts me off laughing. "Get dress'd, we 'ave a visit t' pay," he says changing his tone abruptly. "Aye. D' y' 'ave any shot left?" I ask him. Closing the door behind him, he pulls the pistol from his belt, "Aye, but me powder may b' bad."