Red Cat Jenny

LOL awww those owls are precious! On gas prices... I am sending my gas reciepts to the Campaign donations address with a note "I WAS going to donate $120.00....but I had to get to work this week" Feel free to join me in that. It would make a statement.

Aww Merry. I've not been about. But I am glad you'll be on th' fix an mend. If theres anythng ya need ya know where ta find me. Anytime. and I'll be glad ta adorn me treasure chest with yer design when you get it all done :) Thoughts and prayers for your speedy recover tub pyrate gerl! *~~~~~~huuuuuuuugs~~~~~~~~*

PB has added some neet apps..... But it's still slow as a snail. I prefer to let it load everything while I'm doing something else. For editing try a free download from jasc.com Like Paint Shop Pro.

In a word..........gross It better be nice for my days off. ~~~~~~Time for the beach ~~~~~

Sarong

Tea.. Steamy, Foggy, East Coast morning Amel (Don't worry he'll call you ) MSM, JT Ransom and Silkie

Wow You guys all look great! Patrick, I'd not have recognised you! I love the way people here embrace the creative stuff. Ya can't beat a sense of adventure says I! HUZZAH!

Red Cat had worked close to Roberts an mostly in silence. There were some relief t' be under way agin tho she remained cautious, one on on wot little o' th passin shore could be seen. There were unfamiliar waters an wit a storm brewin things could change mighty fast. She an Roberts spoke in hushed tones, speculatin on whether th' Spanish would make a bold move r' whether ol Jacky might have a trick r' two up his sleeve yet.

Hester you have great taste in music Prancer..

Oh I am sooo there.... * pulls up a chair * Hmm needs a side...

Near St. Pierre Pinaud examined the fine crystal of the goblet he had just drained. It's cut and color were an intricate design, held just so with his smallest finger extended. But his thoughts were far from the appreciation of the vessel's beauty and deeper within the intricacy of his own design. His own plans, which were crafted with as much skill, concentration and attention to detail as the artisan who worked the patterns deep into the crystal of the glass he held. The plantation owner now absent from the room, could not possibly know that it was only the appearance on the surface he had seen, which covered more than he would ever care to know. Fontainelle's face turned sour and he toasted Martin Garaud, now gone from the room, in a most unhealthy manner. "Long life Monsieur Garaud...for as long as you are useful" He drained the tiniest dregs left in the glass and turned to stare out at the harbor below.

An officicial residence near St. Pierre His back was stiff from the long carriage ride to the very Northern shore of Martinique. The latter part of which had been over a bumpy cart road just East of St. Pierre to the splendid yet remote residence in which he now waited. Martin Garaud sat uncomfortably in the outer parlor of the man's offices. He'd been kept waiting too long yet this was one time he needed keep his patience. Both altogether unatural experiences for him. Silently inside, his frustration fought with the tiniest feeling of trepidation. Perhaps for once he'd pushed harder than he should have. Perhaps this time extended his hand too far. Trade of this sort, the darker business of human cargo removed often the gentility of even those most highly educated or from the best of breeding. The influence of power and coin, pressed hard upon the hand of reason in matters whose rules were still being written and whose wealth equaled the danger involved. Garaud knit his brow. The name he'd been given in a dispatch so sensitive in nature it was relayed only verbally..No, it could not be the same man. Though the messengers sources had generally proven true in the past. His upper lip twitched at the outer corner and Garaud sponged the idea from his mind. "Rubbish" was the solitary thought and the only amount of deliberation he would waste any further mental effort on. There was business at hand. The business of slavery, rum and the Colonial route they plied. His impenetrable composure regained, he stood turning to look for the assistent who several times had passed by, wearing the familiar look of those in his own servitude. Anxious, like an animal strayed too far into the open. Just then the door to the inner offices was swung wide. Pinaud Fontainelle was a dignitary concealing a second livlihood and like himself was wise enough to avoid the paths of his dual interests any intersection. His prior visitor had gone by some back way. Fontainelle stood and greeted him from behind the reflective veneer of his antique desk. It had been imported from France at great expense as was with most of his trappings. He was a gentleman dressed finely in silk and embroidery, topped with a grey wig and small pince nez on a chain pinned to his waistcoat. He rarely wore them as more than a decoration. He prized the fine things in life and like Garaud routinely aquired them with a sense of entitlement. However unlike his guest, his was more conjured than earned. Garaud unable to avoid the thoughts which had plagued him all the morning leaned in as if those outside might somehow hear across the great expanse of the room. "Sterling?....an English so far upon French soil? Fontainelle's whole demeanor changed. Shock gave way to defense. He stared in silence. His visitor continued..Surely you cannot have expected word...." Pinaud cut him off "Where have you heard such information!" He stepped back from the desk his hand going to his coat pocket wherein lay a small pistol. Garaud kept his demeanor. "I have my sources.." he said offering no more. His mind raced at the confirmation of information he'd scarecly believed true. The thought that this official might be involved with the man turned his stomach to stone though he did not show it outwardly. He immediately regretted the misstep."Perhaps Sir it is best we address our business at hand" Garaud offered, now hoping to vacate the remote residence with haste once his business was done. A long pause followed. Finally Pinaud spoke in measured yet deliberate tones. He watched Garaud's expression closely. "We are men of profit Martin are we not? Perhaps in this....trade...John Sterling plays a part.." He paused then, seeing the expression of fear shadow Garauds normally superior countenance. He struck at that fear. "it does not surprise me that you know the man." "Know him?! I only know OF him..he is an Englishman!" Martin spat the distaste of the crown into his words. Another pause followed as Fontainelle, who had some talent for intimidation in few words, looked away a moment as if thinking deeply then his expression became falsely incredulous. He spread wide his free arm as if begging an audience of the whole empty room. Then he again turned on his heel to face his visitor. "Do you....." Fontainelle drew out these words, stepping closer to Garaud his fingers curling silently about the pistol still hidden. "question my loyalty, Monsieir?" Garaud to his own shock stepped back and his voice came weaker than he desired. "Non Monsieur..I simply.." Fontainelle turned on him. "You simply what?!" he shouted. Satisfied at the upper hand, Pinaud waved the outstretched arm dismissively and turned towards the tall windows of his office. The elegant, slender panes afforded him a lofty view over small trees towards the harbor in the distance. He absently observed the movement there. Then without turning around he continued, his tone one of quiet determination .."Our trade knows no loyalties.." Fontainelle let the words hang in the air a moment. Martin Garaud felt then as if a huge expanse had opened below him. The official before him continued. "We conduct our business sir, in loyalty to our pockets.. to the promise of vast wealth in our future..." He paused finishing this thought in the silence of his own private musing..."and when the Monarchy releases us to look for its own interests elsewhere...we shall be as Kings in our own domain..." Garaud stood in stunned silence. Fontainelle let the wound bleed slowly speaking no more until he had returned to his desk and sat with some ceremony. His air was detached..as he went for the second assault. "Monsieur Garaud...I 'm afraid I must delay the business at hand as ...new business has presented itself." He steepled his hands and looked over them at the Plantation owner. "It seems Monsieur, that you have let wolves into our garden.." Garaud felt his skin crawl. He had no other information, no idea what was being insinuated by the man he stood before. "Monsieur Fontainelle..I am unsure of what you speak" Pinaud smiled a small and pained smile, as if the weight of the mans ignorance was truly trying. "A man fired upon a French Privateer in the Cul De Sac Royal some two days past..I believe he was a man in your employ.." Martin began to protest but was silenced by his accusor. "Due to the ...nature ..of his employ with you I have taken steps to allow it a single and unexplained event. One crazed man ensuring his own death..." he sighed. "Certain other events and a lack of anything identifying on his person have conspired to assist in this charade. I intend to deal with this issue tonight personally." Garaud bristled and his face grew red with anger. He started towards Pinaud. "Now see here Fontainelle!"..He felt he was being trapped. Why woud he have anything to do with such a foolish act? Pinaud stood abruptly and brought the pistol against Garaud's puffed out chest. "You will leave this residence now and go back to Isle De Generosite to tend to your daily business." he snapped curtly, pressing the barrel against Garauds breastbone. "If..you should leave here " he hissed in barely more than a whisper "with so much as a hint of John Sterling upon your lips you'll not live to see the morrow. " Pinaud yanked back the pistol and Garaud turned to go. "This will be your undoing with no assistance from me" he spat. "Then I shall meet you at the gallows side by side" Pinaud leveled the threat with a smile. "Good day Monsieur Garaud" He summoned the guards to take the man back to his carriage. Once free of the long path and gates, the carriage rattled along the bumpy cart road. Garaud had more than half emptied the flask he carried. .."Treason..." the barest whisper escaped his lips. He drank again to wash away it's taste. Had his wife lived, had he the grace of her presence, he'd have never started down this dark road. "It will be the undoing of us all.." he thought to himself. Garaud perched his elbow upon the sill of the carriage and covered his eyes with his hand. "God preserve us".. he almost sobbed the words and fell into silence.

Aboard the small boat of the Lucy Miss Ashcombe climbed into the ship's boat with the men. She was relieved that Mister Wenge and Mr. Tucker would be in their company. Having met very few of the Lucy's crew, Jenny would have been among strangers and quite uncomfortable. As they pushed away from the Lucy she fell silent unsure of her place. She understood they were to go ashore and the men to outfit themselves as would be proper for the evening's visit. Was she to accompany them? Was it was assumed she would purchase proper clothing as well? She looked down at the sailor's slops she wore and attempted to rub a spot from the shirt. The clothing had proven comfortable enough in the heat, but it was all she posessed besides one chemise, skirt and stays she had packed as she fled. Jenny wondered if Murin had thought to retrieve her second set of soaked clothing from le Chateau Anse as she left. There had been no mention of Jenny's requirements other than to accompany them, perhaps to make her French and familiarity with the island useful. Mr. Doublet had spoken in French but seemed unsure he would know the local dialect well. She sat quietly and let her eyes drift along the shoreline with only the thump and slosh of the sweeps interrupting conversation too hushed to discern between the two men and Mr. Tucker. Jenny considered her plight and resolved to ask Mr. Wenge for help once ashore where they could speak in private. She bit her bottom lip considering that she had not a coin with her. It was all within her belongings. She had no proper clothing. Nothing to protect her from heat, nor rain and certainly not enough to feel as comfortable as she had become accustomed to. It was foolish to leave with so little, but necessary in order to slip away quickly and not make it immediately obvious that she would not return. She had no thread for mending, no shawl nor hat. She had taken along comb, brush and a few small sundries but now realized she lacked certain items to keep herself in a proper manner. Her consternation must have become apparent as Alder Wenge asked what might trouble her so suddenly. In hushed tones and blushed cheek she explained her plight to him. He answered with a chuckle and a reassuring look, that she as the Captain's Steward, would be included in the forray and expected to outfit herself as well. "There'll be enough left ta puchase that what ye need ta keep yer comfort miss, Captain's been generous in what he's given us" He then smiled warmly and suggested she in turn would be a generous help in their dealing with the local sutlers as none were so fluent in French as she. Miss Ashcombe returned the warm smile, her face now a relieved expression and considered what shops she had seen on the last of her only two trips to St. Pierre. She would wait for Mr. Doublet to speak first and only assist where she was asked to make clear what was being negotiated.

chapeau

I have a long standing passion for silly wind ups Kikkerland, in addition to a lot of cool stuff, has these really cool geeky cute metal ones. They totally appeal to my whimsical imagination. I'll just post the link http://www.kikkerlandshop.com/wind-ups---pop-ups.html They used to have a little house that rolled around on a tilt and sparked

Happiness

Quartermaster James..woohoo 108 posts! On this question.. I believe breeches at least for sailors were more prevalent a little later on, though they did exist in the GaOP (The drop front style being mostly post GaOP. Location (regional weather) I am sure has some to do with it as well. I also believe breeches were more land based and "Sailor's slops" obviously shipboard. However, I have heard them referred to as "Outer Breeches aka "Slops" Man's Outer Breeches "Slops" 1750-1820 A protective garment used by sailors (even pirates), fishermen, farmers and field workers. Side pocket slits to reach breeches pockets. Center front opening without fly buttons. Laced vent in back of waistband I'm sure our experts will sound in on this. Please correct me if Im off the mark.

Cat jes grinned an placed both paws behind 'er back ..

"Bugger!" Th Cap'n an Nate looked in the direction 'o th' familiar swear. Ransom grinned rememberin wot she'd said earlier the day afore. Red cat ambled up along th' deck in only slops, shirt an a headscarf. All else abandoned in th swelterin stillness. Save fer one pistol tucked at her waist. "I know we's South..but I think'd Hades be much more Souther 'an 'ere..." Cat dipped from th' water an took a wee sip makin a face at th sour taste which reflected their surroundins. Not havin heard Nates query "Wot's yer plan then aye?" she asked, squintin one eye shut an tiltin her head, better t' see th' two agin th hazy sun. Africa jus seemed t' grow darker than his own complexion. He disliked his Captain questioned so.

* Hand's Hester a cold Pimms * "I'll drink ta that!"

Daisy Dukes

MMMMM I'm comin ta Ransom an Chainshot's for dinner.. Cat's LOVE Mexican! Summer is the time for fresh veggies.. I stewed Zucchini, yellow squash, cherry tomatos, onions and of course, garlic. Plus very thin ground beef patties with worchestershire and ground pepper. Damn I ran out of wine though..still..it was good :)

Aww Merry good luck - we're here... * hug * and Hester...I need to be a tad drunk...in a good way

^ Heehee yeah...I went to a wedding where one of the choiced was SALLLMON SAL...MON

^ Minimal clothes...couch..ceiling fan and iced tea... or if possible get to the South Shore for the almost constant breeze and the ~~cool blue of the Ocean~~. < Add a good book and some cheese and grapes V Good Q , so I'll pass it along