Red Cat Jenny

well, I've always been a fan of Archimedes... But this is cool too, it's just odd enough...

Miss Ashcombe had stowed the items brought aboard within the Lucy's ward room. Taking careful measure after much bewilderment to secure the ceremonial sword and the box of writing implements. The lamp she placed on top of the sternbench with the sack she was able to carry containing sundry items. She exited to the clearing air about the deck and wiped her hands on her slops. The clothing she wore was so besmirched that it would have been difficult to tell whether it was faric or flesh which came away cleaner. Jenny had managed to wipe her face on a spare rag of linen found in the sternbench and felt desperate to relieve herself of the stench of smoke, dirtied water and the blood of others. Never had she been in such a state. Never had she been so exahausted yet utterly charged with the experience both terrifying and freeing at once. The nights spent alone and running seemed a paltry and vague rememberance against the past few hours. She straightened her back and drew in what clean air was to be had with the freshened breeze drawing haze from around the ships. Jenny sought Miss Smith on the far deck and wondered after the woman. Her seeking was interrupted by the snow faltering yet again a portion of it's boom swinging wildly as if the ship was intent on taking a few of it's attackers as the water dragged it over and down. She dropped the rag and ran towards the call of "Man overboard" staring wide eyed into the darkness muttering a prayer for the Lord to rescue them from this place before any more were lost.

The King's Fury The Ward Room The Stewards had sacked the ward room for all it was worth. Carrying away charts, ledgers and papers hastily sorted through for their value from amongst the chaos of items strewn about the Captain's quarters. The Ward room had taken a direct hit. Torn asunder when the Watch Dog drove in the stern of the snow shattering the aft windows as well. The desk had been overturned and the table was in splinters, a heavy ball laying amongst the highly polished shards it had created. Tudor concentrated on the papers of import pouring hastily through ledgers while Jenny filled both the sack she located and the arms of a crewman they retrieved upon seeing what amount was to be taken. Miss Smith's mood had changed and she smiled taking in the swiftness with which Miss Ashcombe located the most valuable of items searching without hesitation amongst the shards of crystal and sheafs of paper. Jenny had called out to Tudor at one point hoisting a large bottle of spirits of an unusually fine vintage and two crysal goblets still intact which had survived owing to a cupboard tucked behind the bulkhead. Wiping the grime from her cheek with her sleeve and feigning an air of propriety, she grinned and as the two shared the moment the snow lurched raining debris down upon them from the splintered wood above. They paused in silence until Tudor bade them to contiue but for a moment more. The task before them was too fascinating to run from so easily. Here, the heart of the ship and it's actions was spread before them in splendid dissaray. They bent to their work in silence, each listening for the groan and crack of the dying ship which would send them racing to the deck. Tudor had raided the Captains private arms chest and bristled with many weapons now hung about her person. In her arms ledgers and a roll of charts. Jenny struggled with the linen sack filled with small items, the bottle and goblets and two fine pewter candlesticks wrapped in brocade and linen from the sideboard. She added to it a small oil lamp, two ivory statuettes, a silver cross wrapped in layers of embroidered linen, carved writing implements, chart tools and a spool of silk thread from the desk. Miss Ashcome admired the quill carved of ivory and fashioned to look as if tiny vines and brids twined along it's shaft. She located the inlaid box amongst the debris and each piece which belonged in it. Wrapped the implements in the silk cloth within and tucked the prize carefully amongst what she would carry. The sack was handed off to the crewman for his third trip above. As he left he warned them they should make haste before they became part of the hulk. As if to punctuate his forboding, at that same moment the room they stood in listed and the awful sounds of timbers and lines parting as well as shouts and movement brought Tudor to command them all out at once. As they departed, a glint from the lantern now abandoned, caught Jenny's eye. She turned back to a space in the wall of the wardroom which was covered by a carved panel matching the fancy molding surrounding the whole space. Polished decoration on a leather scabbard had caught the lanterns flicker and she reached for the item. The others had begun to exit as quickly as care to step around the gape in the passageway floor would allow. Jenny looked back towards them and the pulled hard on the wooden panel which was jammed in the destroyed wall. It gave way partially but not enough to retrieve the sword within. Tudor reappeaared in the doorway her face a mix of anger and fear. "I shall not go down with this hulk in order to entertain your foolishness Miss Ashcombe.. make haste at once!" At that moment she saw what had caused Jenny to risk hesitation and the two pried loose the panel. They gazed at the item which was much too finely decorated to be a weapon worn regularly. The scabbard had brass decoration and the hilt of the sword was highly ornate in it's basket tied off with a tassel. Jenny drew the sword up partly and the blade was covered in ornamentation at the top. They were absorbed briefly in the item hidden away due to it's obvious value. Miss Smith had opened her mouth to speak but was but cut off abruptly by The crash of the gun on the deck above. The sound and following fury drove the three then without another word scrambling up to the deck and their respective ships as lines snapped whistling in their fury at losing their catch.

Deck of The King's Fury Miss Smith had smiled upon seeing the Captain amongst the living. She glanced towards Miss Ashcombe with a practiced and detached expression, turning back to Dorian she answered. "Aye" Tudor turned quickly on her heel forcing Jenny to follow. Despite being taller, Jenny had to walk quickly to match the woman's purposeful stride. One could feel the ship slipping slowly and Miss Ashcombe said nothing more tham to reitterate the order given. She felt no insecurity in the other woman's non comittal treatment. Too frightened of being sucked into the ocean should the hull split. She instead sought the safety of the Steward's knowledge and where she feared not to tread, so would Miss Ashcombe. They crossed the deck quickly and only when they were forced to pause for a group of sailors bearing the snow's one intact longboat and several barrels did she speak. "Miss..Ashcombe, I have been told you are the new Steward to Captain Lasseter. We shall know each other to be equals then as I am Steward aboard the Watch Dog." They stood shoulder to shoulder in tight quarters waiting for the men and supplies to pass so Jenny did no more than to acknowledge Miss Smith verbally. They two entered the officers quarters which were mostly devoid of belongings, as the Sea chests had been moved to the hold before the Snow sought to engage the Lucy. They passed through the narrow passageway where part of the ship had been torn open and debris littered the floor. Jenny jumped gasping as a door behind them slammed upon it's hinges from the breeze which sucked through the tear in the beams. She couldn't help the reaction and was too late to put a hand to her mouth. In the darkness she did not see the smirk on Captain Brand's Steward at the confirmation that this new member of the company was not long at sea. Tudor forged ahead pointing out with drawn cutlass a gape in the planking exposing the berth deck below. As Jenny stepped around the jagged opening, she felt for the solidness of the wood she tread upon, matching Tudor's steps to the best of her ability. Miss Smith was mildly annoyed that she would have to take care that Miss Ashcombe was delivered safely back. Haste was necessary at the moment.

Jenny exited the ward room intending to return though relucantly to the surgery below. Shouted orders were now being carried across from ship to ship and echoing amidst a cacophony of pounding and other heavy sounds. She inquired of those passing through the waist with sundry soaked as if they'd fallen overboard. She was informed the snow was taking on water and the Watch Dog and Lucy taking on all that could be had. Jenny climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck and was met with the sight of the English ship in depose. One of the Lucy's aft lanterns had been badly shattered, its broken pieces strewn below it like a puzzle and she stooped to pick up a shard of the horn glass. In the darkness she could see smaller lanterns travelling across and back from both ships accompanying casks, chests, coils of line, crates of livestock and all manner of things from the snow. Tools were now employed in removal instead of repair. Captain Lasseter paced upon it's deck shouting orders which were carried out in haste. Everywhere the crews were engaged in hurried stripping of the prize. She descended the stairs and crossed between the caravan of those bearing goods and returning. He was watching sheets of canvas being hoisted over the rail and like the others was soaked through. Jenny lifted Captain Laseter's sodden coat from over the great gun where he'd laid it and held it away from herself. Aprehensively watching the deck of the ship and the water beyond, she waited for his attention bearing the soaked weight of the wool before she would retrieve it to the ward room and return to whatever orders were given. Plying her mind away from the thought of the deck heeling over, Jenny scanned its still level plane for Mister Pew whom she had not seen in some time. She knew he was not among the injured for she had seen all of whom were below and hoped he was not laid in the surgery of the Watch Dog. However she was sure word of anything worse would have carried quicklyand had heard none of the kind. She saw the back of Alder Wenge as he came up and descended again after a conversation with one of the marines. The two spoke in shouts to converse over the din all around them.

Happiest Birthday Mistress Silkie !

http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-327834

Belated, but still sincere.. A very happy post birthday Miss Cheeky!!!

The Lucy Jenny worked side by side with the others under the competent if exhausted command of the woman churgeon brought from the Watch Dog. They began to make some headway with the addition of proper supplies and the skill of the docteur. Jenny scarcely noticed Durand then, despite his obvious bulk below decks. More than once he struck his head or one shoulder on the beams. More than once they had been shoulder to elbow moving a patient this way or that for Miss O'Treasaigh. Yet all had fallen into silence but for necessary conversation. The gaps in speech were filled in with moans, coughs from the now dissipating haze and the groan and crunch as the two hulls bore against each other with the occasional swell. Jennys hair was damp and perspiration trickled down her back, beads of it stinging her eyes. She ignored it thanking God that she had been spared such horror as was witnessed in the worst of the injured. She knew she was injured herself as sharp pricks from splinters poked into her side.The sensation told her there were some perhaps below her skin. Yet she was alive, helping others and would wait out what seemed trivial amongst so much blood and stitches. Her shoulder had continued in its dull ache and she willed it to the back of her concious. They toiled for the next hour against waxing adrenaline mixed with fatigue and the heat of the hearth nearby, which had been re lit at Miss O'Treasaigh command for water and a method of cauterizing wounds. Mister Tucker had been briefly below and had approved the re lighting. Jenny supposed at the woman docteur's confidence, the approval would have meant little. After a time and the beginning of a discussion on removal of a badly damaged limb, Jenny found her breath constricted as if someone held her tight about the waist. Her stomach tossed and she excused herself quickly. Her exit was barely acknowledged by the others for the more pressing matters, but for a sympathetic glance from Durand himself. Or perhaps it was disgust. She cared not. Her indoctrination into the violence that was possible had proved all she imagined previously to pale aganst the reality of conflict at sea. As she climbed towards the ward room, she paused. Dull thuds, scraping and voices in mixed languages replaced the sounds from below. Wooden mallets were already pounding somewhere forward and also it seemed across on the snow. The deck looked as if a storm had picked up debris and dropped it on the cutter. She cautiously opened the door to the ward room and entered to find it whole. A single candle illuminated the space and for a moment there was solitude. Sounds from outside were dulled with the shutters closed and everything seemed as it had been. She walked slowly around the room inspecting what was there. Jenny found the larger of two bottles had been removed from their place on the shelf and the edge of the table had an ugly smear of blood and soot. She stopped then, looking down at her own hands which were crusted and the heel of one bruised. Jenny poured water from the pitcher soaking a corner of her shirt and used it to wipe them. She placed 5 glasses where they would be in reach for the officers. It wasn't her original intent, but at that moment, in the solitude she needed to do anything normal. Her neck ached and her head began to swim as the quiet allowed pain, fear and fatigue to become apparent. She sat on the sternbench and placed her head in her hands. She would just rest a moment, collect herself and then muster the courage to return below where she was needed. .

Damn i missed 9:09:09 pm That would have been 09-09-09 09:09:09

Flanked by Pierre St-Germain and James Standiford Jenny crossed the Snow's deck quickly. Choosing to keep her eyes on the rope sandals of Standiford she carefully followed his steps until they reached the place where grapple lines held the Lucy to her prey. They arrived below to expectant attention from Marsh and two others who had been lending what small skills they had. The floor was stained with blood and bandages and sundry clothing removed from the injured lay in a pile. Charlie Marsh looked truly worn but unbeaten and Tjaack was not far behind. Their faces were ruddy and they were covered in sweat and blood, perhaps some their own, all but ignored in the service of others. They had treated many in the small time she had gone in search of help and the space below was hot and stale from the numbers of men. The injured had been separated by the severity of their wounds and a few were returning bandaged to the deck. Sulphurous odors from the great guns and wood smoke hung like a haze near the beams above. "Which one of ye's the churgeon?" Inquired Marsh, still tying a bandage to Robert Jameson who had a deep gash below the knee. When he learned the person whom they had sought was not among them, he set the two crewmen to work directing Tjaack to show them those that still needed tending. In the opposite corner the most seriously wounded lay on wool blankets. Charlie took Miss Ashcombe aside and inquired in a husky whisper. "We haven't much time if we are to save them." He gestured with a brief nod in the direction of John Kine, Thomas Reid and Nicholas Trodd. After a pause he sucked in his breath and went on. "I doubt Mister Trodd will last this night" he said this quietly and for the first time showed the toll such things beyond his ability had taken on him. Jenny shivered despite the heat below decks, relief being traded for angst so many times over. She could only make out shadowy figures wrapped in blankets with one or two of the Lucy's crew doing what they could. They were hunched over one figure shaking in fits and managed to get the poor soul quieted. Charlie put a hand to her arm staining her sleeve unintentionally. "Go...and speak to th Captain. Tell him the state of things. Perhaps he can hasten this churgeon of the Watch Dog. He'll want to know" Jenny nodded and sprang up the ladder. Marsh shook his head and found himself thinking of Meg as he returned to the pleading of those not as fortunate.

The faces of crew and prisoners still fresh in her mind were pushed aside by another. Had the evening been a peaceful one, Jenny might have reacted to Durand's direct stare which bordered on innapropriate. From his place next to the Captain he regarded her openly. This registered as a concern, given that they were no longer on separate vessels and might have given her pause considering that he stood with Captain Brand. Perhaps he might have sought to question her at a moment she was unprepared for. Yet he remained silent. Only when Durand's regard was acompanied by a smile was she shaken from her mental occupation with visions so recently encountered. Jenny focused instead on Captain Brand who had no unfriendlieness in his face, his expression carried only the weight and preoccupation of the past hours. He acknowledged her with the briefest of nods as he listened to Mister Roberts relay Captain Lasseter's request for the new churgeon. Jenny shifted from foot to foot and in mounting exhaustion waited in the most stillness she had encountered since the sun had set over the three ships.

you just wonder what would posess one to say ... "hey...maybe this would work...."

09-09-09 Not only does the date look good in marketing promotions, but it also represents the last set of repeating, single-digit dates that we'll see for almost a century. For those of you like me who like those funky iteresting facts.. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32735942/ns/technology_and_science-science/?gt1=43001

classic....

Jenny stepped cautiously between the debris which littered much of the snow's deck. Slowly making her way through the broken and foreign territory towards the Dog, where she was grappled at the side of the bow. She still held the pistol though close to her person as she passed between too few famiiar faces and hoped most others of the Lucy would recognise her as among their own. Jenny did not look directly into the faces of those men being collected and disarmed. She heard orders given and complied with, one or two requiring what sounded like a more physical convincing, as prisoners were accounted for and separated from the wounded. She wasn't sure if she wanted to remember the face of defeat, that it might haunt her during times when a conflict was not so easily won. As she crossed to the waist of the Watch Dog, Jenny was almost surprised to find herself in curious acceptance of that thought..of future engagements. "Who approaches?" came the call from just the other side of the snows bow. But she barely needed answer for she recognised and was recognised by the good eye of L'Ours Durand where he stood in quiet conversation with Captain Brand. William followed the man's subtle change of attention and recognized her with the slightest of nods. They did not halt their conversation but Captain Brand waved off his guard at the rail and Jenny was helped aboard. It was a brief but frightening crossing as the two uneven decks pitched for a moment in height like angry jaws snatching at one's heels. The large hound accompanying the two men growled in punctuation of the moment. Jenny stiffened seeing that no rope bound the animal and wondered that it may be as fierce as those recently laying waste to the snow. She was careful not to make direct eye contact, being familiar with the guard dogs in the areas nearer the plantation's slave encampments. Jenny was met by Jack Roberts who bore her request from Captain Lasseter to them.

Galley area/Surgery of the Lucy Miss Aschcombe traded the chaos of above with a different though somehow lesser kind below. She simply followed the bidding of Misters Marsh and Cuylemburch. Perhaps it was the elder Marsh's unchanging presence that was comforting. He went about his task with purpose and efficiency just as he would in the galley. She handed him clean cloths she rended form what was available and accepted the others, brought the dipper whether water or rum to those who needed it and did her best to remain out of the way. Charlie Goddon, Nigel Brisbane and Nathaniel Brocke sufered cuts and bruises from shrapnel. Once tended to, they continued to help bear in those more seriously hurt, their own traumas minor only against the scale of battle. Her attention had been on every need she could fill when Captain Lasseter entered. At his condition Miss Ashcombe's first instinct was to wonder that it wasn't across the shoulders of Tucker and Brisbane. His face and all of him was darkened in spent powder and grime as many of the others who had seen boarding. His hair hung loosely and thick strands were caked in blood at his right ear. The trail still fresh, continued down his neck into his shirt collar. A bruise was raising on the side of his lower lip. In his one hand he still held a cutlass, but his left knuckles were torn and as bloodied as the pommel in his right. His sleeves and coat had tears which did not make immediately apparent what injuries may or may not lie beneath. The Captain's shins below his slops and everywhere else exposed was bruised, scraped and caked in the detrius of war. Miss Ashcome found herself assesing what care she could begin to give him, but she could not refuse his order. Despite his being wounded Dorian placed the crew first and there were some...Joseph Aretineson and young Patrick Godfrey who were even more seriously injured and in urgent need of more learned ministrations than either of the three could manage despite their every effort.

The Lucy Jenny had ducked behind the larboard gunnle sometimes cowering, sometimes chancing all.. the desire to know where the battle stood too strong to refuse. Her back ached and her knees stung from pressing herself low against the solid portion where the rail met the deck. It afforded little cover and she crouched as tightly as was possible. With shouts The Lucy's men continued to spill over to the snow as a wave would. Washing onto the deck of the enemy like so much seawater in and around and seemed to devastate all in their path. However in the dark and in numbers she quickly lost sight of which belonged to whom. Grape struck the holy ground whistling in her ears as it glanced off the ship sending splinters into her clothing and striking holes in her courage as easily as they pierced the fabric. Jenny covered her face instinctively, nearly sending a shot astray from the pistol gripped tightly. This was too much.. too real, surely she would die. She despaired of everything in that moment, her choices, what she would never see..her family..Jenny pressed herself to the cover of the rail for what seemed like eternity lost in smoke, cannon and musket fire and shouting. Her mind swam and she struggled for a time to keep a grasp on any self control. A hand shook her shoulder and the unfamiliar face at least a score younger stared into hers only long enough to see she was uninjured. Then dissapeared into the fray. Jenny half crouched half ran down the stairs intending to seek shelter in the ward room. But checked herself remaining halfway up the steps to the holy ground. She would not give in. All around her were just as vulnerable though easily more able. None cowered. Even those visibly injured. Anger stung her back into her place amongst them and she took up cover near the top of the stairs. She checked each pistol tucking one back into the belt and readjusting her grip on the other. Time passed feeling like an eternity and mere moments all at once. She caught sight of the plume of Captain Lasseter's hat and was just able to follow the flash of color as it and the men following pushed forward on the snow. As Jenny leaned forward straining to see she was grabbed up roughly from the back and thrown against the deck of the holy ground. A sailor from the snow had managed a fortuitous crossing, jumping across the larger space aft of the Lucy's grapple lines. Unseen by most whose attention was focused forward in the waist, his intent was the tiller. But first to cut down anyone who would stop him in his pursuit. Jennys shoulder met the deck with the force of the man's throw and she screamed rolling over and pointing the pistol. Her shot went wide as he kicked her and she rolled away from the force of the second attack. He had a knife in his hand and paused to lunge at her but she caught him full in the face with a handful of sand. It was enough to stop him but for a moment. Long enough for her to back away on her hands and feet. He swore and cursed her and she prepared to be wounded in the fight. Jenny scrambled madly against the pain in her shoulder for the pistol but as she drew it the man was cut down by Nigel and fell halfway down the stairs landing in a drunken pose. Tucker appeared and roughly yanked the man over assuring he woud do no more harm and deposited him on the deck below. Jenny turned away shaking but Nigel quickly pulled her to her feet. She looked at him but could say nothing. He simply nodded and returned to the tiller . A shout came up then that the Snow had surrendered. Jenny could see Captain Brand board and move to where Captain Lasseter stood and a wave of emotion swept through her at the relief. The effect of her injuries, adrenaline and emotion jumped in her stomach and raised chills on her arms. Jenny turned to the scene just below her and descended to help with the wounded. She was unprepared, for the injuries had seemed few as she approached. Then she came upon a place where the great guns of the snow had done their bidding. The sand was bloodied in a terrible manner and the reason for it was no loger a mystery to her. Those who had given their last were set aside while others stood by guarding, muskets trained on the snow and the water around them, watching the proceedings thereupon for any move against their own. She held her breath and rushed below escaping the horror of death and assisted tending to those injured but living.

Oh I've been bullied...back in Junior High school. But then I got smart...I realized that world only existed until 12th grade. I was popular in HS anyway...my brother was older and I hung out with his friends..instant cool in the HS world. The crowning moment for the guff I had to take was post college. I ran into my school years nemesis (yes Helene you *&^%$@$....) There was miss perfect and so popular years later where her HS rep would do her no good...Fat, dumpy, 2 monsterously bratty kids and an equally dumpy halfwit for a husband or whatever he was... Ohh yesss...I just stood there, smiling at her..and the years of angst melted away one by one... She didn't have a word to say..the look on her stupid puss was sufficient. Guess she didn't make it back to her coach before midnight.....

Awwww...well Keen Eye Kevin is a lucky lad! They're adorable and the cake decorations as well.

Red Cat had rushed to th' side wit'th others..she'd half expected t' see Roberts emerged from one o' th' gun ports an escapin down th' ladder. She chuckled an' turned towards Nate who was jes makin his way over fer a look. She muttered t'no one in particuler.. "T'aint a wunner they found themsleves on tha sand spit..tis a wunner they got thus far" She looked about to see wot would become o' their unlikely crew an wether th' one wot called himself Tomas would betray his mate.

Aww this was a great story...and a great find! It would be almost worth a trip to check that shop out. I think by letting him do a kindness to you, you certainly gave a lttle extra healing on top of the empathy. We always feel better if we can help someone.

Bienvenue Cul Sec leBorgne Je ne parle qu'un petit peu de français. I have been to Paris and the French countryside for the Bastille. It was charming. Je suis très heureux de vous rencontrer Le Chat Rouge dans votre honneur.... un pirate français 1 Oz champagne 1 Oz Dark Rhum .05 oz TripleSec

Air fares...like the coffee aboard, have been horrible.. However September usually brings the first post high season sales. There's an article today that Southwest and United and American are instituting some decent sales Sept through Jan. There are some day/date of travel restrictions but they don't generally black out the 2009 PIP dates. Theres also a deal on SW I believe to relax the extra bag fee. The sale by Southwest Airlines Co. applies to flights from Sept. 9 through Jan. 7, but sale fares aren't available on Fridays or Sundays. And it blacked-out flights around Thanksgiving — Nov. 24 through Dec. 1 — and near Christmas and New Year's Day — Dec. 18 through Jan. 4. Tickets must be purchased by Sept. 3. Some seats are as cheap as $59 each way plus taxes. UAL Corp.'s United, meanwhile, is running several sales, with fares for travel between Chicago and Houston for $102 each way, and travel between Atlanta and Denver for $109 each way. Tickets have to be purchased by Tuesday for travel by Dec. 16. Another sale covered Washington Dulles to several East Coast cities for travel through Nov. 18. Tickets must be purchased by Friday. Both sales are valid only for travel on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Saturday. The sale by AMR Corp.'s American covered flights between New York and five other cities: Miami, Chicago, Dallas-Fort Worth, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. The New York to California flights were $109 each way, a number that caught Seaney's eye. It's close to the $99 each-way fare for coast-to-coast travel that fliers watch for but seldom get, he said. Also, some carriers are undercutting each others' direct flights with one-stop flights to the same cities. "There's a lot of really low-ball deals out there if you're willing to put up with connecting," Full article here http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090820/ap_on_re_us/us_fare_sales

Daaaaaaaaamn....sweet.You lucky man. Kudos to Matt. Now I gotta start saving my sheckles...