CrazyCholeBlack

Hardtack with LOTS of water. Hey I made it, it's eat it or give it to the dog.

thankfully Paul I don't have to be keeping them for the long haul. However I was more interested in seeing if they would raise without docking or not. Plus having something palatable to feed the little swab was a bonus. One question, how thick were these rolled to? I'm assuming fairly thin right?

I like seeing all the similar sigs that's for sure.It works really well for the crewes. Don't know that it would work with Port Royal though. Everyone in the Watch Dog is sort of "together" while in Port there are all these little groups, everyone from different ships etc. It's intertwined but not cohesive. I'd still love to have a matchy sig though. Maybe someday when I'm part of a group.

Rather successful I'd say. I used 50-50 flour (half white half wheat). I did add about 2 tablespoons of oil for flakeyness. I doucked 1 bisquit & laft the other flat. The non-docked one had several bubbles while the docked version had only 1 in a spot I didn't poke enough. SO I'd venture to say the docking is to keep them flat. I like them. Would I want to live on them& scummy water, no. But they were quite good with bean stew.

thanks for digging this up jack. I'm guessing they would be made like "sack bread" where you add your liquid to a sack of flour & stir until it creates a dough leaving behind the extra flour. I found it interesting that noone mentioned that the pricking ie docking, is used to prevent dough from rising. even a simple bisquit of flour & water will rise a little as the water evaporates & becomes steam. so docking is used to keep doughs flat (& thus pretty hard).

I have mentioned today how much I love every one of you? Thank you for pointing out those striped drawers Black John. I would have missed that detail for sure. Mr. Hand, that is a good point about the heat. I'm also gratified to hear that your ticken waistcoat is sleeveless. It's the pictures of your garb from the other thread that's been a big inspiration when thinking about my own kit.

Westmoore Pottery has pottery & hand blown glass that is amazing. http://www.westmoorepottery.com/index.htm I'm lusting after their green 1670's beer glass myself.

now take this with a grain of salt as I don't have the references out side of personal experience to back this up but... Yes there is sugar in alcohol. However what I have learned is that the alcohol itself tends to 1. take away the pain so to speak & 2. kills a lot of the bacteria in your mouth. After all the mouth washes that we use these days is basically alcohol. Drinking straight rum like they had would be basically the same thing (except who would spit out rum?) I'm sure there were also quite a few remedies for pain killing. mint works wonders. Also clove oil is used currently, could have been used in gaop as well although expensive. But like I said, just educated guessing here.

I've seen hemp rope as wide as 1" avalible from Hemp Basics The price for a 50 ft coil isn't to bad either. Pirate horseshoes sounds fun.

ah, I wasn't thinking of buttons up the legs openings, just at the knee. that would use quite a few up. I figured drawers ment underwear. Always better to ask though. Anyone know how similar they were to the braies worn in the medieval period? Obviously we're not tieing chauses to them, but the drawstring waist is similar. Now about the ticking stripe. Since the color of the waistcoat isn't specified is it safe to say any (period) color stripe was used. When ever I hear "ticking" I instantly think of the blue pillow case covering stuff but that's much much later of course. Now, where the waistcoats for these regular sailors sleeved? I don't remember seeing any images with sleeved waistcoats. Again better to ask those who've been doing this longer. I have to say I love being able to ask these questions. Everyone around me was burned out on "costume history speculation" years ago.

I've been reading about the slop contract (1706) but have a few quiestons. Hopefully the experts here will have the answers. What is the difference between breeches & drawers? A few pieces specify "leather pockets". That's the inside portion right? Where do 16 buttons go on a pair of breeches? That just seem like a lot. I think that's all of my questions for now. I'm sure I'll have more later. Thanks for the help.

The bark of pistol fire sent all but the drunkest patron to their feet. Woman gasped and tucked themselves behind burly, well armed men. Jane stood quickly, still eyeing the rear incline, her hand clenched into a fist as she cursed her missing knife. The boisterous crowd fell deathly silent at the sound of another fired shot. All heads swiveled towards the rear stairway. Several patrons decided that the excitement was more than they needed and slipped out the front door in to the cool evening. The entire pub seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. “Eh, you three. Get up thar, see wot that lout Carter’s doin’ ta me Inn.” The bar man bellowed in the quiet room. The three appointed men paused at the first step, drawing their knives before filing into the chaos. There was a crash and a muffled yell before one of the three returned. He spoke in low tones to the barkeeper, nodded and returned to the upper floor. “Nothin’ ta worry yer selves bout now. Back ta yer drinkin’.” The gray haired man bellowed again, shooing the crowd back into their seats. Conversation slowly hummed to life as the patrons followed his direction. Drawing as little attention as possible the barman gestured to a thin young boy. He spoke quickly into the boy’s ear. There was a flash of fear across the lads face before he nodded and obediently disappeared through a back hallway. Jane watched the boy go, resisting the urge to follow. She had her own concerns to deal with. The last thing she needed was to get involved in someone else’s quarrel. With the excitement waning, Jane settled back into her seat. She downed the dregs of rum from her glass. A slight trickle on her lips wiped away unceremoniously with the back of a hand. The indelicate move was not missed by her companion who eyed her with amusement. “At least your wait isn’t a dull one.” Jane remarked, raising a brow to Striker. “Now, what was this ye said about a little sup?” Jane thought back to the rock of hardtack and heavily watered rum that had been common faire aboard the Anna Rae. “I dare say my last meal was less than favorable.”

True ta bein a pyrate, I steal what er I needs from tha little swab. She's got 'er self a bounty o' silk scarves fer playin & don't mind sharing wit the likes o me.

That's what I thought about her too. So if that central flag is Dutch, what is the one to the far right?

**deleted**

oh eye candy. Nuthin I like more.

The tension in her chest was eased at the bright smile that crossed her companions face. Apparently her misstep was more amusing that insulting. It was a relief. There had been too many times in her past where she’d said the wrong thing with terrible results. Unfortunately, not every time could be blamed on to much drink. “Oh, manners!” Jane gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth in feigned astonishment “I fear I’m quite lacking as well. I’m Jane Melchert.” The name felt foreign in her mouth. A wash of rum cleared the discomfort. She took the opportunity to give her escort a good look. His blue eyes were cold but surprisingly captivating. His stern demeanor faded just slightly as he smiled. Most noticeable though was the sizable collection of pistols he carried about his person. Jane’s eyes drifted down to the loose weapon at his side and the hand hovering over it. She found herself wondering again about why he waited & whether it would be wise stay and find out. “A toast to you Mr. Striker. May whom ever you wait for arrive before your pint is dry” The filled glass was raised in her thin fingers again but never reached her lips. This time it was her eyes that wandered, to the far end of the bar where a small ruckus was beginning. An oversized man came rushing down from the upper floor of the Inn. He charged over to the barkeep, waving his arms wildly & pointing back up the stairs. The barman huffed, slamming down the bottle in his hand. He spun on a heel, rummaging in a crammed drawer behind him. He faced the bar again; thrusting a pistol into the large man’s hands before grabbing him by the sleeve & hustling him back up the narrow incline. Jane watched the exchange, curiosity furrowing her brow. A crash from up the stairs was barely audible over the tavern’s evening dim. Another, heavier crash shook the upper floor, followed by the familiar cough of pistol fire.

vent away my friend. I've been there, more reciently than I'd like to admit. Why is it that the machines always go wonkey in the middle of a big project? I sew a lot (mostly mundane stuff) but the big problems only happen when I'm doing something 1. important 2. on a tight deadline 3. complicated. This last time my regular machine went out (just last week ) I was ready to throw it across the room. Hopefully your's will be up and kicking quickly. If nothing else you could always pink the seams & use a straight stitch. That's usually good enough for costumes. There is also french seams which look really nice.

Well I've jumped in with both feet. Hope no one minds. I would like to ask that if anyone sees any mistakes in my writing, no matter how tiny they may seem, to please point them out to me. I am new to writing with others so your patience is appreciated. Thanks for having me.

Jane could feel a slight blush across her cheeks as the blue eyed door watcher bowed deeply before her. Had it really been so long since that simple courtesy was offered her? It took restraint to keep from giggling like a child. “I assure you the pleasure would be mine, good sir.” She smiled scooping the green bottle in one hand while following the stranger back to his quiet table. She seated herself out of his line of sight as he continued to monitor the taverns entrance. The red faced drunk had slipped happily to a table with a couple friends & was enjoying his pay off. It was a little excessive given the situation, but she would admit that it worked better than knocking the man upside the head. “A drink to you sir, for a fine rescue” the delicate glass was refilled & raised to her new companion. The man nodded but said little. Jane shifted in the uncomfortable silence, suddenly aware of the stiff hug from her stays. Another pull on the rum did little to ease her discomfort. Inhaling a deep breath of the stale tavern air, Jane followed his eyes once again to the swinging front door. She wondered exactly what he was waiting for, wondered even more if it would ever arrive. “If you don’t mind my saying, sir, it seems you have been forgotten this eve.” The mocking smile fell as her tablemates sharp blue eyes glared back at her. Jane scolded herself for forgetting how easy it was to say the wrong thing as a woman.

ahh exactly why I am asking as many of my questions before starting. There is nothing worse than being in the middle of a project & finding yourself lost. Tis at that point I generally go off alone, undoubtably in the wrong direction.

Jane ducked into the bustling tavern just as rain began to soak the city. Brushing invisible drops off her skirt, she slipped up to the polished wooden bar. The graying barkeeps attention was easily caught with a slight nod. He carefully wiped his damp hands on the stained fronts of his breeches before approaching. ‘A bottle of rum if ye please, sir” A slip of silver slid into the barkeeps waiting hand. “Aye miss” he grinned under his bushy mustache before disappearing to the far end of the bar. Upon his return he carried with him a deep green, dust covered case bottle. There was an audible pop as he pulled the stiff cork from the bottle’s neck, the dark liquor flowing into a small glass set before her. “Thank you my good man” she smiled as the bottle was set before her, its cork tapped loosely back in place. As she sipped from her drink, Jane’s eyes nervously searched the growing evening crowd. She doubted any of the crew from the Anna Rae would recognize her now but the fear still hung in her mind. She had yet to decide if she would return to the merchantman or seek a life on land again. The increasingly drunk crowd was amusing enough to keep her mind from dwelling on the looming choice. There were any variety of doxies leaning over half sober men, plying them with more drink & heavy perfume. She caught eyes with one brunette who scowled back and tugged her target a little tighter. Jane could only laugh at the woman’s possessive gesture as her eyes continued to roam. In a far corner, a man with shifty blue eyes seemed to be waiting for something. Every creek of the tavern door sent him sitting straight up. When the new arrival wasn’t what he desired, he would sink back into his tankard. Occasionally he would glare into the busy room with a furrowed brow. Jane followed his line of sight to a matched pair of military jackets. The two men jostled with each other, arguing in heavily accented tongues and laughing loudly. “Brothers? I wonder.” she thought as one pushed the other off of his seat to land at the feet of portly woman. Their childish behavior reminded her of something she had seen among the sailors. If they weren’t blood, they certainly shared that elusive bond between men who served together. It was that brotherhood that kept her sailing long after the lover she had followed to sea had succumbed to fever. She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes as she locked gaze with the still seated man. He paused just briefly in his mocking of the other to smile back at her. “ ‘el o’ der lass. Wots a purdy little thing tha likes o ye doin ‘er?” The booming voice over her shoulder nearly knocked Jane from her own seat. She spun around, realizing only a second later that her hand had instinctively reached for a knife that wasn’t there. Next to her an extremely round, red faced man swayed unsteadily on his legs. He reeked of urine, ale and dead fish. “N’ wif such a big bot’l o’ rum all te yer self” He grinned at her with a mouthful of brown teeth, continuing his drunken advance. “Be a peach n’ share a little o’ yer bounty wif an ‘ol sea dawg. Aye mights find a bit o’ somfin ta pay ye back wif ay?” he winked a blood shot eye, the words slurring out of him. Before Jane could put together a properly feminine retort a voice to her left responded for her.

thank you for the input Captain. That seems like a very reasonable amount of time. I am considering a combination of machine & hand for anything visable. I must pay my debts to the mistress of the prickity stitch it seems. The list grows.

wow, I must have paid to much attention in math class because that actually made sense to me. My mother would be proud

So, what's the verdict? Which ones did you go with. I'm looking at the Concord but would love to hear from others who've worn them before taking the leap.