CrazyCholeBlack

Alright I'll admit that I've been using this as motivation too. No computer time until I've done my 30 minute penance. I've been ten pounds from goal for over a year now. Time to admit that I'm not "taking a break to get used to the weight loss" but have just gotten lazy again. So does this mean I get to have a rum ration to?

Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat. They'd been gone too long and she knew it. She leaned at Ray as he delivered a fresh tankard to the blond haired man only a space away. "Oi, Ray. How many bells?" Her brow furrowed, knowing the answer wasn't going to ease her mind. "Just shy o eight in the middle watch." BAM! Jane's fist pounded the wood in front of her causing the man with his full drink to jump in response. She shrugged apologetically, her attention really focused on the door just past him. Unfortunately sheer will wasn't enough to make the stray sailors return. "Damn me" she muttered, chewing an already short finger nail. She knew she should have followed. Sure she was useless with a weapon, but at least she'd know what was happening rather than sitting and waiting. "No worries gerl," Ray offered in passing "Tar n Ransom'll find the Cat." "Not them findin 'er I'm worried 'bout" she replied, pushing her empty mug out for a refill.

Now Mr. Hand, I've seen tha pictures o yer tent set up n I'll say, even though it'll get me in a heap o trouble I'm sure, that it looks like a mighty fine place ta spend tha night.

Aye, Welcome NVBarbossa. Either Lady B wants ye ta have a right proper greetin or she knows ye've got a full pouch o coin n is aimin ta help ye lighten it. Now, fer that drink if ye please. I've taken a fancy ta hot tea grog on these cold days. Ray, in tha pretty green mug if ye will. Ye know, tha one wot holds just a bit more n tha others Didje say somthin bout being haunted by fabric sir? I be in tha same boat. Haunted by a long strip o tha most beautiful silk a gerl ever laid 'er eyes on. sigh

A hammock n a sea chest. Hey, I'm a simple pirate, none o that fancy stuff fer me. I actually did sleep in a hammock fer a while when I was younger. Mighty comfortable in the hot summers so long as it's not one of those rope ones where your arms can fit through the netting.

"Hum, 'these people'?" Jane's green eyes halted their continued survey of the shore, turning questioningly to the Welshman at her side. The puzzled expression only lasted a moment as her thoughts cleared. "Oh, tha city, Port Royal. Aye." Red cap covered head nodded slightly as she stepped away from Ioan without further comment. Long steps brought her along side Captain Striker where he stood overseeing the bustle of his crew. He made no motion to acknowledge her other than the slight upward curve of his lips as she stepped to his side. "Captain, I should like ta go ashore wif tha first boat, if I may. I only need a day, at tha most. I ken see bout bringing La Maligna inta tha yards an," she paused in her request biting anxiously at her lip. She had been watching the shore line intently for any sign of the Anna Rae since first coming on deck, to no avail. Despite the hardship, Jane still felt tied to that rotting hulk of a ship. She only needed to see the ruined merchantman for herself in order to break the last of that connection. Striker's blue eyes glanced down at her, reading the thoughts she couldn't put into words. A flash of doubt crossed his handsome features. Jane's voice dropped to nearly a whisper, eyes locking with his, a tone of sincerity behind her words. "I promise ta come back this time."

Wasn't there some famous brilliant type inventor who never slept? Michaelangelo or Edison or someone? I think I'm turning into them, minus the brilliant inventing part.

Aren't there programs where they convert your design to a pattern? There must be because my friend crocheted a leatherface blanket reciently & I doubt *that* came from a commercial pattern . If you could find one of those then you could make what ever design you wanted. Or you could do it the old fashioned way with graph paper.

^ I always have to alter, when I can find a pattern anywhere near what I want in the first place. < Sitting around in my freshly finished stays just for the heck of it. :angry: V What do you do "just for the heck of it"

Thin fingers cupped the rough mug, Green eyes stared blanky at the flickering light reflected in the remaining drink. Jane sighed loudly, the breath rippling the dark liquid. She had watched Mr. Tar & Ransom haul the new comer out of the pub earlier. Curiosity told her to tag along, common sense knew that the two Captains had the issue well at hand. What could she do except get under foot? So instead Jane sat, sipping another mug of ever stronger tea grog, desperately trying to lay her finger on why that man had looked so familiar. "Has ta be from New York" She muttered out loud, a spark of memory coming to light.

Quick Hands ye say? Less see bout that. Quick, hands me that rum Rob! Hey ye are pretty good. Cheers n welcom ta tha pub. Keep tha rounds comin fast like that n you'll be popular right quick.

Greetins Dirty Smythe. Ye know, I heard tell thars a new item called soup. No wait, soap, that's what ther callin it. As I understands it gets ye clean, ken ye imagine! Corse thar certain things wot nuthin'll change right lad? Oi, where's me manners. Gimme tha rum!!

Hey, you've passed the "film maker" test. If you can sum up your "story/plot/subject" in one sentence, you're good to go. Congrats.

oh can I add more o what I like in my pirates, pretty please? I'll add "the gift of gab". I like a pirate who'll sit at the bar with me and talk, tell stories, tell jokes & not censor them just because I'm a girl. Someone who knows things & shares information about all kinds of subjects. But at the same time doesn't lecture and actually carries on a conversation not a monologue. Oh and he has to be willing to participate in a conversation where I might actually know more, so none of that know-it-all ego junk either.

Why do I always have trouble with the "general you"? No I wasn't talking about this thread specifically. Just in general; "people" have been acting really childish lately. I get all the winy, juvenile behavior, I can handle from the little swab. No need to see it in the supposed adults as well. It's enough to make me go looking for a cudgel!

tToo muChha Cof\FfeEE!! I';ll nevVEER SleEp Again@!

We're not in Jr. High people, quit freaking ACTING like we are!

Reenactor Fest (pick a number) is not a festival for GAoP reenactors ONLY. Next time you put on your hat Rats, make sure there isn't a hornets nest growing inside it.

that's the best kind of course

"I think," Jane started before turning away from Ransom. She stared into her mug, swirling the dark liquid contemplatively. To tell the other lady her concerns or not? Part of her wanted to just list off every problem she saw with the venture and be done with it, the other part wanted to stay silent in case nothing happened. Jane's blond head tipped to the side, a quick glance cast at Mr. Tar & his fast fading companion. She could just barely make out the man's rum slurred voice. The sound tugged at the corners of her memory but nothing solid came of it. Pink lips pursed in annoyance. "I think I've seen tha man before." She finally answered Ransom "I'd almost swear on't."

Jane shifted uncomfortably, her slumber disturbed by an insistent buzzing. She batted at the bothersome sound, clinging to the last shred of sleep she could before her eyes finally opened. She squinted, half awake, into the flickering lamp light of the lower deck. In front of her a pale haired boy stood, anxiously shaking her arm, a string of rushed Danish flowing from his mouth. Jane’s brow furrowed as the lad repeated himself, speaking louder but only slightly slower. The foreign tongue fell on dead ears. The most Jane could make of his speech was something that sounded similar to Port Royal and a word that was to close to Captain to be anything else. She gestured at the boy that she understood, at least partially, while climbing stiffly to her feet. He scampered ahead of her slow steps, the light bobbing along with him. Jane instantly noticed how smooth the ship felt under her shuffling feet. As her head cleared the hatch it instantly tipped back, a broad smile curving her lips at the gray, but rain free sky. “Captain Striker” Jane bowed habitually as she approached. She knew the move was pointless but the manners she had learned as a sailor were hard to forget. She nodded just as formally to Ioan, who hovered at the captain’s other side. As she stood straight her eyes passed beyond the two men to the slip of land they approached. “Mother o Saints!” The exclamation slipped past her pale lips before she had a chance to stop them. Green eyes focused on the storm wracked shore. Even from their distance, Jane could see the destruction. Roofs missing, walls collapsed, every waterfront building sat at least knee deep in a thick combination of mud, sand and sea. She swallowed heavily, sharp teeth tugged at her lower lip. Anxious thoughts of her crew mates in the tavern and the Anna, tethered to the unrelenting dock throughout the tempest filled her mind. After a long, silent moment Jane felt two sets of eyes on her, one bright and amused, the other dark and questioning. Her throat cleared loudly, shoulders setting back with regained confidence. “Might I suggest, sir, weighing out in tha bay afore headin in ta tha yards. If they’re still there that is.” She added under her breath, eyes drifting back to the battered port.

Since the treasure hunters had returned to the Pub, Jane had contented herself to sit at the far end of the bar sipping hot tea grog and listening in on the little snippets of conversation between the others. Mr. Tar's little story was an interesting one, though how much truth was behind it was questionable. While the other's fell to plotting and politicking, Jane fell to self protective skepticism. She couldn't help but wonder just how long their little group had until greed & ambition began to crack their friendly exteriors. Jane was reminded of a saying she'd heard once but never really understood until now. "Too many captains, never enough crew." Her nose wrinkled at the idea as well as the empty mug before her. Gesturing to Ray for a refresher, green eyes took the opportunity to glance first to Ransom, then to Mr. Tar and then, now where did Red Cat wander off to? Who is that terrible familiar fellow whispering to Jacky and glancing around anxiously?

I was mistaken. It was indigo that was imported to the colonies not woad. from Woad is Me, from a "Plants & Culture" course at UCLA. Lots of other interesting bits on other dye plants in the main index as well.The attempt at growing indigo as a profitable crop in the colonies is mentioned in a bunch of other places on-line that I'm running into but none of them offer much in the way of dates unfortunately.

Yes, yes I am. :) You know how my memory is. That tidbit is from the pre-notes era & for the life of me I can't find where it came from.

Does anyone have a date for when the laws to protect the Woad industry in England were enacted? Wasn't there also big importation of woad to the southern colonies in the late 1600's-early 1700's as a way to try and decrease the dependence on Indian indigo as well?