CrazyCholeBlack

Captain Don Fernando de Ulises stood stiffly at the larboard bow railing of La Alma Negra, his dark eyes locked on a spot against the far horizon. The stiff breeze blew back his open waist coat, pressing the light linen shirt to his muscular chest. Long strands of black hair hung in tangled ropes behind him. Deep lines marred his bronzed features, his face permanently formed into an angry scowl. “Marcos” He bellowed to the gray haired sailor working nearby, “¿Aquel es Porto Royal si?” “Si Capitán.” The older gentleman rose, looking to the growing shadow and nodding. Satisfied, Ulises turned on a heel, his long steps crossing the length of the ship easily. He called orders to the bustling crew as he passed, overseeing every minute detail of the ships operations. The last of the bleached white sails were unfurled, catching the air and pulling the ship that much faster towards her final destination. “Pronto mi hermano, pronto.” Ulises thought to himself.

Jane froze at the all too familiar summon. It seemed Striker had a knack for catching her unaware. She had been certain the deck was clear when she began her escape, yet there he stood. It was a useful skill, though she wondered how his crew felt about their ethereal captain. With a defeated dip of her head, Jane spun around on the ball of her foot, releasing a long held sigh. She opened her eyes, looking slightly downward at Striker. He was easy on the eyes, she would admit that much. The close cropped hair topped a work tanned face, punctuated with crystal blue eyes. His devious smile forming rye creases around his mouth. One rough hand cradled a gently smoking white pipe, the other reached out to her in a thoughtful gesture. With a rustle the arm load of skirts fell about Jane’s bare feet. She declined the offered hand with a wave, dropping soundlessly to the floor with a half smile to Striker. “A meal it is then. But please, Mr. Spoons, let us refrain from any mention of fish, or turtle” Jane shuttered, her stomach pitching along with the ship.

here are our furry crewe Blue Dog, 14 yr old Australian Cattle Dog. Making himself very at home in the chair of course. Our three cats. Dot (Black & white), Dash (gray) & Mr. Mistoffelees (black). D&D are 8 yrs old brother & sister. Mr. M is the little swabbs kitten, only 4 months old. Isn't it good fortunte that our windows are in set of 3, one for each cat?

Jane hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the meal arrived. The scent of fresh bread made her stomach tense. She swallowed heavily, licking her lip in anticipation of the filling fair. The young bar maid smiled coyly at Striker, batting her brown eyes as she set his plate down. The man seemed oblivious to the attention. “I think she fancies you” Jane pointed out, watching the girl make sidelong glances at him from the other side of the bar. Jane’s brow furrowed at his reply. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a man not interested in a pretty lady before. What ever he waited for must be pretty serious to distract him from even the most basic desire. Jane’s mind ran over all the possibilities, comforted little by her companion’s sizable collection of pistols. Greedily Jane spooned the thick stew into her mouth, tearing off a chunk of bread with her teeth. The warmth filled the emptiness in her stomach easily. She looked deep into the glass of port Striker offered before taking a sip, remembering the last time she had enjoyed the warm, sweet alcohol. It had been just before her husband’s funeral. She had emptied nearly an entire bottle that morning, trying to find the sorrow that everyone else expected from her. Instead she had been left with a sour stomach and loose tongue. Suddenly Jane was aware of Striker’s sharp blue eyes watching her. The spoon stilled over the nearly empty bowl. She glanced sideways, felling a rush of red flush her face. The combination of rum and now port and hearty meal were loosening her up more than she intended. She had never been “right & proper” in even the slightest way. The taste of freedom she had earned while sailing had only exacerbated her lack of manors. She was sure to find herself in some measure of trouble if care was not taken. As Jane was about to apologize for her uncouth behavior, a neatly dressed gentleman approached their table. He removed his hat with a broad sweep, exposing a shock of glaringly orange hair. Jane’s attention bounced between the two men. Strikers face shifted at the others address, the cold blue glare returning to his eyes. The other man’s words were reassuring but the entire interaction left Jane feeling terribly uncomfortable. It seemed as if the sands were changing under his very feet. Striker nodded his agreement with the altered terms but made little attempt to hide his displeasure with the situation. As the other man departed Jane turned her focus back to her companion, raising a quizzical eyebrow yet staying uncharacteristically silent.

aye indeed. I was just reading about this area in the GAoP as well. Of course mt memory is poor but I seem to remember something about the constant shift between dutch * english in that area contributing to the pirate activity. Also, talk about a tax happy area. NY had a governer that required that all chimney's be of a fire proof brick. If your house caught on fire, you could be fined! Imagine that, being fined for sparks from someone elses house catching yours on fire!

oh captain straw such a valiant attempt at propriety.

alright, I know so o ye didn't think we really "needed" a Port Royal Sig banner but I'm an insomniac and Dear Ransom had planted this seed of an idea in my head. Here are 3 versions of a PR banner (PR for PR, LOL) Please let me know what you think. Be kind though, I'm having a bad couple of days. the simple one The one without the roger The one with the roger Hope you all enjoy! I'm going to sleep finally now.

OI, Mad Jack, wend ye get tha new breeches? Looking right nice there. Cheers to the long sufferin misses too. I be workin on me lad still. Some day I says.

I lies tha green n black un meself. tha simple one ye've got in yer avatar best. plus it meets tha far away rule. er'y one will know yer commin to be sure.

Haha me mum had a bosuns whistle in 'er bathroom whilst I was grown'n. I don't advise blowing in it as hard as ye can.

Jane stirred awake at the soft chime of a bell, followed steadily by two more. At first she was disoriented. She could feel the slow roll of a moored ship but the beams over head didn’t match the familiar ones on the Anna Rae. She sat up slowly, shaking her wine muddled brain, recalling how Captain Tar had offered his visitors berths for the remainder of the night. She yawned heavily, wishing it had been a longer night than it was. Silently she gathered her shoes, tucking them under an arm before ducking out the low doorway and finding her way to the open deck. There had been mention of a morning meal, a prospect that nearly made Jane return to the borrowed bed. However the nagging in her gut pushed her on. Striker’s kind words and attempted reassurance the night before had done little to ease her nerves. Jane’s green eyes scanned her surroundings as soft feet crept toward the egress. There appeared to be few sailors on the morning watch and no sign of her host or companions. She was glad for the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. It had been against her better judgment to stay aboard the Relentless in the first place. While she enjoyed Strikers attentions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the more time they spent together the more chance she had of making a fatal mistake. The risk of giving away her other identity was simply too great. It would be safer back in the city, amongst the anonymous city dwellers than in the close confines of a ship with others who might see through her. Despite the constant worry, being on a fine vessel brought her happiness. Impetuously Jane gathered her rough linen skirts high above her knees, climbing deftly onto the thick railing at her side. Bare toes grasped the salt worn wood with skillful ease, gliding forward with careful steps. She stood there a moment, taking in the gray morning sky, a brisk breeze swirling around her. Just as she was about to hop down onto the gangplank she heard the memorable tenor of Strikers voice. “Good morning Mistress”

Come now, all ye have to do is shake it Not to toot my own horn but I can at least play something simple, twinkle twinkle or mary had a little lamb usually, on almost any instrament you hand me. The except to that has been the trombone. I tried to teach myself that blasted thing once & managed to play 6 decient notes before giving up completely. I've played bass for nearly 20 years, since I was just a little kid. I can play guitar a bit around the camp fire, my partners cello, piano, my mothers flute & I used to play clarinet in band back in school. I also enjoy hand drumming. I sing a bit to, although being female & an alto there isn't a lot of call for it. Plus the little swab is always yelling at me to stop. She's a terrible critic. I just love music!

be ye another o tha Sheppy pyrates there Yard Arm? Seems we've been rather invaded lately. ah, now as to tha drink. I'll take anythin so long as she's free.

Beer is classifed based on 2 things, speed of fermenting & temp of fermenting. Ales are made with yeast that is called "top fermenting". It's done at a warmer temp and faster. These are the heavier beers that the English like so much. Lagers are "bottom fermenters". They ferment at lower temps for longer times. The yeast does actually sink while it's working. All of the "cold brewed" beers that are so common in the US are also lagers. Stout is an Ale while Pilsner is a Lager. Now, I'm off to get myself a Spotted Cow, yum!

The fit of laughter that escaped Jane’s mouth at Strikers retort nearly knocked her out of her seat. She bent forward almost double, burying her face in her thin hands. Slight tears of humor glistened from her eyes as she gasped for air between giggles. Once she had regained enough composure to sit upright Jane sipped her port with a grin. “Oh but as long as the sun shines one does not ask for the moon” The smile faded from Jane’s face as the other man addressed Striker as captain. She had never considered that he might be an officer, much less a captain. The idea sent a wave of panic through her. Jane scolded herself for previous behavior, praying that nothing had hinted at her secret. She glanced again to Striker, a comforting smile creasing his face. She turned away quickly, burying her eyes in the glass she held.

“A blond gentle woman playing cards?” Jane questioned, a furrow creasing her brow as she looked up from her newly filled glass. The slight nod from the others confirmed that the lady she had seen was one and the same. “It seems fate was on your side this eve Mr. Striker. I would gladly tell a grand tale of rescuing your belongings from the she-devil but it would be a lie. I merely convinced the lad in possession of them that he would be better suited to something his own size. Please tell though sir, how you came aboard such a fine ship without your breeches?” She smiled devilishly at the thought of Striker in the buff, a sight she mildly regretted missing.

The familiar lilt of Strikers voice erased any fear Jane felt. Her eyes quickly searched the shadows for the source of the comforting sound. Striker came scrambling towards the gangplank, running a damp hand over his cropped hair as he moved. An amused smile spread across Jane’s face as he abruptly slowed, attempting to hide his eager approach. “Ah, M’Dear Mr. Striker. I do believe these might be more suited to you than the street rat I found ‘em on” She raised a brow to him, holding out the familiar garment. Striker gathered the jacket under his arm, before he extended the other to her. With practiced ease he guided her up the rough wooden board that connected ship to shore. Jane nearly lost her balance taking the final deep step down onto the main deck. Her legs were easily tangled among the seldom worn skirts. Before the fall was complete Jane felt a strong hand on her arm, pulling her into a protective embrace. Her green eyes rose, matching the shinning blue gaze of Striker. The ill fitting clothes gave him the appearance of a beggar but did little to hide the dangerous spark in his eyes. He smelled faintly of drink and musty sea water. Jane took in a deep breath, the heady scent tying knots in the pit of her stomach. She had to bite her lip in an attempt at self control, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. “Uh, wh, whot was this ye said ‘bout tha “devil ‘er self”?” She stammered, feeling the hot blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

The booming response and flash of movement in the shadows aboard the ship haulted Jane’s absent minded humming. She turned her face upwards, directing her voice to the backlit figure leaning over the rail. “I ‘ave something ‘ere, might be o interest to a Mr. Striker. I understand he be aboard.” Jane didn’t pause enough in her speech to allow a response. “If you’ll be getting ‘im for me then.” The heavy bundle of clothes was gathered higher in her arms. She felt a wave of nervousness fill her chest. She knew nothing of the ship in front of her, nor its crew. Port Royal was not unlike her home port of New York, large enough and wealthy enough to attract any number of questionable characters. With some effort Jane buried her fear in deep breath of sea air as a commotion began on the ship's deck.

:: OC as requested Mr. Tar :: A filthy lad eyed the fine jacket and accompanying bundle lain carefully on the empty chair. His dull eyes grew bright at the thought of the coin the garment would turn. The fine lady sitting near the bundle remained too wrapped in her cards to take notice of his greedy view. Swift as a cat he darted from his safely dark corner towards the table. His thin arms scooped the bundle easily, thin legs carrying him quickly out the pubs back door. Jane watched silently from her stool at the bar. She had only just sat down for a drink but her curiosity won over the desire for rum. The coat seemed familiar, though she couldn’t place it from the distance. She swallowed the remains in her glass before following the little thief out the door into the cool evening air. Her feet pounded on the dry dirt road. She dodged the few drunks that staggered on their way to another drink. Up ahead she could see the dirty lad huddled in a dark doorway, still clutching his precious bundle. Jan hurried up near him calling out in a commanding tone. “You there, boy! Stop!” The lad leapt to his feed but froze in his spot as she neared. Clearly he did not have the instincts of a true thief. “Let me see that jacket boy” Jane demanded, reaching for the fabric clutched in his scrawny arms. He tugged back protectively from her reach. With an annoyed scowl Jane cuffed the obstinate youth on the ear, pulling the garment from his hands. The boy grabbed at his throbbing ear, tears welling in his eyes. “I found tha free n clear, tis mine I says” Jane could only huff at the boys weak attempt to keep his bounty. The jacket was given a shake & a curious look by her sharp green eyes. It was indeed the garment Jane first thought, though what it was doing without its owner was another question. “’ere lad.” Three slips of copper flashed in the full moon light. “gev me tha rest o that thar. Now disappear aye” Jane shoved the boy away roughly, gathering up the bundled clothes and returning back down the dark street. As she neared the pub again she approached a scruffy looking man who leaned against an empty barrel. He looked up from his introspection at the sound of her footsteps. “Pardon sir, ye ‘appen ta see a fella wot, well, um, lacks ‘is trousers?” She laughed lightly, realizing just how silly it was to be hunting for a nude man in the streets of Port Royal. “Aye lass. I seen ‘im. Drunk as a tinker that’n . Went board tha Relentless he did.” The man nodded down a far pier. Jane turned on her heel, following his line of sight to a dimly lit ship. “m’ thanks sir.” She winked, slipping a chunk of silver into his rough hand. Unceremoniously the man bit the coin before it disappeared into his waistcoat pocket. Tucking her prize under one arm Jane ventured onto the moonlit dock towards the indicated ship. She was indeed a fine vessel, in need of an overhaul, but still commanding quite a presence. Jane’s eye followed up the height of the masts, taking in a deep breath of the fresh salt air. Her eyes fluttered closed, relishing the cool breeze off the water. She had been on land too long and was beginning to miss the sea and steady work on board the Anna Rae. Perhaps leaving had been a premature choice. “Ahoy Relentless!” Jane called in a strong voice, stopping just short of the gangplank, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

oh now the Barbra you say Kass. I happen to be blessed with women's feet that will easily fit either style. Decisions, decisions.

Thank you very much for the guidelines Mr. Fairfax, they will serve me well whilst on the hunt. I can not be the only person who becomes a bit overwhelmed at the thrifts.

spoken like on who has never had genuinely good alcohol. Real alcohol is smooth, slightly sweet & most certainly doesn't "burn" the way the cheap stuff does. But perhaps I am blessed with to many friends who make their own.

My dear Mr. Alva. That is the thing that I have learned right quickly whilst being here. Tis not like the legal system. Tis safer to assume something is not period until proven otherwise. For those of us searching in the thrifts, what stylistic traits should eating utensils during the GAoP have? Certainly not glass bottomed tankards, but what else? Riveted vs. welded handles? Have forks settled into the common 3 prong style? My thanks to the "particular" sort.

I just finished a rough machine appliqued version of my flag. I'm planning on linen with wool & hand sewing for the next one. This is nice enough to hang out front of our house though.

pulling this up from the abyss. I just discovered that the local college library will let us "townies" research their collection. I'm making a big list to search for next time I'm there. Anyone know of any other must read books that a beginner should be reading?