Red Cat Jenny

After World War Two, with hundreds of thousands of new graves to tend, the tradition evolved that “Decoration Day,” would be a day of national commemoration "Memorial Day" A National moment of Remembrance requests silence for one minute, exactly at 3.00 pm (local time) when 'Taps' is played and reflect on the glory of those who have died for our country "For those directly affected..war seldom pays for it's losses" Please remember to observe this solemn moment. I will remember my father who was one of the lucky to come home, and all those who have served and fallen, served and retired and still do. My dad John served as Seargeant in the 272nd Anti tank division in WWII. He was away for 4 years. Though I didn't know him then I always thanked him on memorial day for our country's freedom . He was a fireman as well and a great dad. He has passed on some years ago and we had a nice ceremony for him at Calverton National Cemetary two days ago where his ashes rest. Thanks Dad.

hmm..

Red Cat traversed the sand gingerly listenin fer footsteps which did not match her own or Roberto's whom she noticed walked with an uneven step.. the sound of his following her more of a scrape an thump after a pause o' sorts. This distracted her as she tried to discern every sound. The snap of a twig, or the crunch of small stones under unseen foot. There were those in these remote islands who would gladly decorate their selves with ones hair r' warse.. She shook off th' thought an patted her musket softly as they headed deeper into the mangrove. "Well be drinkin o'er th' spoils come nightfall she mused an th' thought renewed her efforts despite th' heat. Cat had removed her scarf an tied it back about her neck t' keep th' sun at bay an loosened it some as th' thick o' th' mangrove provided shade. She pointed towards a clearin ahead an Roberto acknowledged as they adjusted their direction towards it.

No no you can't have it William I want it.and one of those others as well :)

Deck of The Lucy Miss Ashcombe had traversed the deck for a time as the remaining light blended into a ring of twillight along the horizon. Though it was still draped with stars, a haze indicating rain gathered quickly from one direction. The wind had increased in small gusts and the sea grew more active ahead of it, changing colors to reflect the impending weather as the swells began to crest in white. Activity on the Lucy's deck quickly shifted from clearing and repair to stowing and securing and the tightening of lines. Shouted orders blended with reports from the lookouts as the first heavy drops began to fall. Jenny made her way back towards the shelter of the passageway and ward room looking towards the last position of the ships they scouted ahead of. She passed Mr. Tucker at the Larboard rail, he was draped in oilskins and an expression of one who was concentrating on several tasks in a single moment. Still he paused for a moment to address the Steward. "Mr. Tucker.." "Miss Ashcombe, it appears we are abreast of a squall".. "Aye sah" she replied holding her hat against the wind with one hand and grasping the rail as the Lucy pitched upwards on a swell. " Have you proper cover to stay out in this ?" he asked as his eyes traveled quickly to flashes on the horizon and then up into the flurry of activity above them which matched the pace of the deck all about. She made to answer but paused when he grasped her arm and drew her aside as several men passed to their right, calling one back to gather a report and adjust orders recently given. The rain began to sheet and Tuck motioned to her mid conversation to make haste below decks. Grateful to be out of the rain before proper covering would have been useless, Jenny entered the ward room once more closing the door against the wind's gust. As she secured the door and turned toward the interior of the ward room the sound of the rain became muted into a softer thrumming from above. She latched the shutters and they clattered softly against their frames. Jenny went to the basin and dried her face and arms with the cloth there and returned to her canvased space retrieving oilskins given to her along with items from the slop chest when she had come aboard. She placed the heavy garment across her cot and returned to peer out the stern windows searching again for the Watch Dog and Navarra listening to the calls from above. Lanterns bobbed in the distance among the swells and she hoped the weather would pass quickly thinking of Trinidad and hopefully the sun's return on their arrival there.

Miss Ashcombe had lain awake for only a short time when the Ship's Master stirred himself. She waited until he had settled his body again and peered from the small opening in the canvas. Mr. Pew seemed at rest and she dressed quietly. He did not turn from his study of the waves as she parted the curtain and made her way quickly up and onto the deck. The sea air was pleasant and tinged with the brine always more apparent in the evening hours. Jenny stood at the foot of the quarterdeck stairs and drew in a few deep breaths as she surveyed what little could be seen of the ship from her vantage point. The Lucy's deck was still littered with some debris and cargo and the day's ration had been passed out. Further forward, some of the Starboard watch was at brief rest from their continuous duty of clearing and stowing while others moved themselves and their labor carefully around damaged planks and those hammocks laid out awaiting their inhabitants final journey. Any who would speak of ills or superstition over recent events remained silent in their thoughts. The sun's remaining rays traced the tops and lent a blush to the bosom of the figurehead prompting a few wistful if indecorous comments between caleb Millet and Zachary Howard as they leaned on Babdh. Some shared their thoughts on the past hours and Trinidad ahead as they toiled. The lookouts had been quiet for the past half turn of the glass and as the ship heeled to larboard Jenny looked out to sea watching as the Lucy made graceful arcs ahead of her consorts. Vigilant, but serene in her task at the moment as the bow cut smartly into the swells. As the sun rested itself into the sea and the cool of eveing edged the warmer breeze, the cat from his place aft, did not move save to lick one paw and then the next allowing his lids to droop some and continuing to let his other senses to pick up the pipe smoke of two men nearby, the scent of the wardroom and perhaps the galley.

Hey..I'm down with that ratio... and I'll take the sword and as many bottles as go with it :) Such a small place..such an interesting history..no wonder.. Dutch is the current official language of Suriname, nestled on the NE Coast of South America and sandwiched between Ex British English speaking colony Guyana and the French (speaking) territory of French Guyana. Bordered on the South by Portugese speaking Brazil. 1630 First settled by the Dutch who failed in a campaign for tobacco plantations, then in 1650 by the Government of the English posession of Barbados Lord Willoughby who gave it the clunky moniker of "Willoughbyland". That didn't last long..in 1667 the lone fort which hosted some ugly doings in the early 80's..(yes, the recent '80's) was invaded by seven Dutch Ships. After the three hour fight won by the British and the renaming of the fort to Zeelandia, a treaty was hammered out to which the Dutch agreed that the English could keep occupying New Amsterdam (NY) if they could keep occupying "Willoughbyland" which then became Dutch Guyana..."Scratching yer head yet?" 1667 the Brits gained it back... 1668 the Dutch took posession 1683 Suriname now a Dutch colony owned in part by the Dutch West India Company around 1795-99 Holland was occupied by France and the British retook posession of Suriname 1816 it went back to the Dutch after the defeat of Napoleon. A haven oddly during that time for many Brazillian Jews it is filled today with synagogues as well as muslim and Hindu descendadnts of imported laborers, descendants of African slaves bought to work the plantations and later Javanese..mix in the Dutch, English, French and original natives. I've heard all manner of acents from the Guyanas here at work now I understand it a bit more..woah what a melted pot! Started out with Tobacco, Sugar, Coffee, Cocoa and cotton. These days rubber, gold and a component of aluminum (where did yer soda can come from?) Home to a lot of modern day piracy and a stop on the ill fated trans Atlantic journey of Bartholomew Robert's Royal Fortune among others seeking Spanish precious metals. 60,000 sq miles (about the size of Michigan) of which 90% is undeveloped rain forest, the smallest nation in S. America. 30,000 people. Most of the descendants of the original natives now live in the Netherlands. Interesting lil place isn't it?

Bo, keep fillin yer head..knowledge is a noble thing. Fair winds and following Seas, hope they blow you back around these parts. Be well and all. Slainte!

ooh! Nicey nice!

A very happy Birthday to you Mr. Cross! And many more

Happiest o' Natal days sah!

Eager t' be outta th' open an hearin yet another scuffle followed by Roberto's shuffle Cat heaved a sigh, shouldered th' musket an listened fer any sound above their footfalls as they rounded th' rise.

A most Happy Natal Day lass!

Miss Ashcombe having bid Captain Lasseter a good night once Preston appeared to be sleeping as comfortably as his condition would allow, drew the canvas about her space and retired. Soon they would be at Trinidad and she hoped all would get the rest needed. Through hazy speculation and the quiet rush of the sea against the hull she soon found sleep waking ocasionally only to resume slumber as the Lucy swayed on the wind.