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The Pirate Hunter's Smarter Brother!


Inigo Montoya

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Tomas pushed the fronds to the side quietly. His dark eyes and complexion easily blended in with the ever growing shadows around him. The man he was watching stood and stuffed the pistol into his waist. Tomas watched a second longer. He breathed slowly and waited to see if the man was going to find the pit they had begun.

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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Nate turned and began to head towards the scraggly palms down th beach an up th embankment when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. "Aye Father", he mumbled to hisself and stopped, turned around and slowly scanned the area. Nate's senses were tuned in to his surroundings and he knew something was amiss. Nate took a particularly long stare into a stand of brush down the other way. It was then that he heard the sound of a twig snappin over yonder. Slowly he drew his pistol and pulled back the cock. The sound of the cock seemed very loud and Nate froze a moment. Seconds later Nate thought he heard a similar sound in the direction he had heard the snapping noise. He hunched low and made his way up to the palms and bits of brush. Nate was sure he heard some movement on the opposite side now. Nate got to the palms and peered through the brush, but it was too thick and the light too dim. Slowly he stood up to look over the brush, holding his pistol out ready for action. As Nate stood he found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol himself. Nate looked over to see a familiar face staring back at him who made the same discovery. "Good ta see ya alive, Lass. Tank ya Father, I always had faith in Ye ta help me find er." Nate grinned at her over the bushes. "I were about ta get a fire goin ta stay warm, Ya look like ye could use it too. Come along Red Cat, ye look hungry too."

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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Red Cat stood puzzlin fer a moment 'fore she released th' pistols lock and drew it away from Nates calm as usual countenence.

She didna expect t' see him an took a moment t' recognise th' face.

He were his usual affable self an she had t' laugh.

Shocked an relieved..she did litle more than nod, an chucklin followed him along th sandy ridge t' collect up wot wood was there. '

Shortly they be settin next t' a fine fire an sharin the rations he'd brought. Cat was happier Nate'd thought ta bring rum as well. She took a long pull inbteeen bites an listened t' him recount wot she'd missed.

He'd tried t' convince her not t' be cross wit herself for th' stupidity o' th' risk she took, but Red Cat felt responsible now fer him riskin hisself t' come back f' her. She wondered about Roberts, but said nuthin.

Shortly Nate lit his pipe an they fell silent watchin th twigs pop n crack an th stars start t' appear.

Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help....

Her reputation was her livelihood.

I'm a pirate, love. By nature and by choice!

My inner voice sometimes has an accent!

My wont? A delicious rip in time...

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Nate took another draw on his pipe. Keeping his eyes away from the firelight as best he could. Nate was happy fer th company, but something still had the hairs standing on the back o his neck. Nate would slowly look about the area, scanning the shore and brush. One spot kept drawing his attention, but for what reason Nate did not know. Nate just looked at the area for a time, looked around at the rest of the area and back to that spot. Nate reached over and laid his musket across his legs, checked the prime in the pan. Satisfied, he continued to puff on his pipe.

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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Share on other sites

Suddenly another person came into view. The two sat and ate calmly, unaware that Tomas was watching, more concerned with his own wares than others. He twirled the ends of his long mustache waiting for the two to fall asleep before he was satisfied that the chest was safe for the evening. A return trip was necessary to complete the excavation. Only then would the maps be found for the wreck. Tomas smiled knowing what he would find aboard the vessel.

He let the frond move slowly back to its position and backed away slowly from the pair.

"Mañana," he whispered to himself, "mañana."

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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Silkie had decided that despite Jacky's glowing stone she would try to reach out to Cat. She would have done better in direct contact with the water but she could sense things without. She found a quiet place on the ship as close to the stern as she could sit without being in the way and began to meditate on the lass. She did not move until the sun had dropped into the water. When she roused herself again she was calm and knew that Cat ...and Nate, were alive but not contented with their situation.

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One more night to get through, and then we would see the Tortugas. That's what ran through my mind as I inspected for myself the repair to the hull. Colard stood next to me, pointing out the places that were weakest, and would need better fixing once we reached safe harbor.

"She'll be fine 'till then, Ma'am. Hae nae fear." He smiled at me, and gave me a wink.

"Well, let's hope the Spaniards give us the time. I have no idea what or who we will meet on these islands, so be prepared to work as fast as you can."

"Oh, Jimmy has the makings o' a good carpenter, and we've wood stock aplenty. Between the two of us, we'll set things tae rights."

I smiled at the old man. "Then you have set my mind at considerable ease, sir."

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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Nate was just uneasy enough that he couldn't get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Looking over at the Red Cat, it looked as if she had succumbed to her weariness. Nate smiled softly at her and gently took the bottle of rum from her hand, eased the cork into the top and set it in the sand between them. Taking in a long slow breath, Nate let out a long, contented sigh. Aye, this be th life. Freedom. Thanks be, Father. Nate though to himself. Shifting about to get comfortable and not being able, Nate stood and stretched, scanned their surroundings and cradled his musket in his arms. He slowly walked a circle around their little camp and satisfied all was as well as could be, Nate remained standing, keeping watch over them both.

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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"Keep a weathered eye out." I said t' Stones, "If the winds stay steady, we should catch a glimpse o' the Dry Tortugas, t'morrow."

I shouted t' Dillard, "Go below, an take an accounting o' our fresh water stores. They'll be no fresh water t' be had in the Dry Tortugas."

It appeared that the Rakehell's repairs had held, thus far. 'Course the Dry Tortugas, have served as a graveyard fer healthier ships, durin' bad weather. We hoped fer the best, an prayed fer good weather.

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Tomas noted the surroundings. Quietly, he tried to measure the steps it took him to make his way back to the trail and finally the dirt path to town. Once reaching his accomodations, Tomas roused the inn owner and ordered a plate of victuals to be warmed. Begrudgingly, the man woke and made his way to the kitchen. He let Tomas know 'El Corazón del Toro' closed several hours ago and continued muttering into the kitchen.

Tomas made his way to his room and retrieved his brace of pistols. He stuffed several books into his satchel and made his way back to the meeting room. Tomas relieved the owner of a bottle from behind the bar and spread his collection across the great table.

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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Colard stood alone by the damaged hull, and hoped he hadn't been too optimistic in his assessment of the repair. True, it was holding fast now, but he didn't like the look of a few places where dampness showed on the new planks. He'd better find Jimmy, and together they would add more tar and oakum to seal the small leaks before they became big ones. If the weather held, and they reached a safe harbor tomorrow, Colard felt all would be well. A much better repair could be made, but he needed time. Something he may or may not get.

Then they to the tavern house

with meikle oly prance

One spoke with wordis wonder crouse

A done with mischance!

*******************

I would die where I would dine

In tavern to recline

Then would angels pray the glibber

God have mercy for this bibber.

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Tomas lit a few candles while waiting for his sup to be delivered. He opened his journals and removed a dogeared and crumpled map from his satchel. Pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth, he spat it on the floor. A long gulp was followed by a belch causing a momentary silence in the kitchen. Tomas smiled. He read through the diary of his own writing, making notations on where Alvaredo had found the chest earlier, taking care to note it proximity to the shoreline and it's depth. The Spaniard also wrote his calculations upon finding the hole again from the dirt path. As the ink dried, the innkeep brought out Tomas his food.

"Sir, your cost this meal will be greater than usual because,"

Tomas removed his pistols and placed them upon the table. The frumpled man wrung his hands and went back to his room, swearing all the while. The Spaniard smiled yet again.

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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Nate spent a couple hours watching over the Red Cat and their little camp. After awhile Nate found himself falling asleep standing. Settling down next to her where he had been before, Nate didn't feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing. Leaning over, Nate poked at the little fire, added some more wood to it and smiled at the added warmth. Soon he would try to wake her so she might stand a watch. Daylight would come and they would be on their way, trying to catch up wit the ships they came off of. Nate mused that it wouldn't be easy in the little open boat, but some how they would manage. Looking at Red Cat, Nate figured another hour, or what he thought another hour from now would be, then he'd wake her.

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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Red cat had woken and peered towards th fire wit only a slightly opened eye..all seemed quiet. She'd rest a wee more 'n then insist on takin a watch.

Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help....

Her reputation was her livelihood.

I'm a pirate, love. By nature and by choice!

My inner voice sometimes has an accent!

My wont? A delicious rip in time...

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Mister Tar had good reason to be concerned about the water stores. We had left the bay without venturing inland, and taking on fresh water. The water in the barrels on deck, were brackish; thankfully, the barrels below decks were better.

Returning topside, I located Mister Tar, "Mister Tar, the water below decks is more palatable, sir." He nodded, an said we might have to ration it, if the Rakehell is wanting.

I cast a glance at the ship that now dogged us, and said, "Aye, sir. We can accommodate them, if our stay in the Dry Tortugas is a brief one." He frowned, but agreed.

We had all heard the stories, of those stranded without fresh water, not something any of us wanted to experience firsthand.

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Nate guessed an hour had gone by, between nodding off twice and the state of the fire. Lookin at Red Cat, Nate wondered the best way ta wake the lass witout causin undue problems. He didn't need a pistol pointed in his face again so soon. After a short while Nate looked heavenward, gave a shrug and slowly laid a hand on her shoulder to give her a little shake.

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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Share on other sites

Red Cat wanted t' finish her dream..it were a right pleasant one..

"Oi!" she grumbled an drew away from th hand shakin her.

Slowly she realized she warn't swingin in a hammock, but curled upon a canvas in th sand. Red Cat stretched an tiltin her head sideways..threw th grinnin but sleepy Nate a foggy look. She then looked past him at th position o' th moon in th sky. It was nigh late in th' night.

Cat shook off sleep an accepted th musket. She took a sip from th water flask an walked about th small encampment stretching her limbs. Cat turned t' talk t' Nate but he'd fallen asleep as soon as he laid hisself down. She grinned an hummed a shanty, very quietly as she drilled round th camp an back. Studyin th lay o' th horizon should it change.

Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help....

Her reputation was her livelihood.

I'm a pirate, love. By nature and by choice!

My inner voice sometimes has an accent!

My wont? A delicious rip in time...

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"Here's the inventory, Ma'am." Jimmy handed me a list. "Seems we're sittin' pretty good, despite the supplies we had to pitch overboard."

I did a quick scan of our situation. We'd taken on fresh water while on the lake, so had no worries there. A good deal of our salt and flour had been ruined in the wake of the hull damage, but the dried meat, peas, and beans were still good. We also still had some of the fruit potted in syrup that we'd added while in Havana. It would last a while longer. All in all, we stood in pretty good stead, and would not have to borrow provisions from the Relentless. I was grateful, as I didn't want any more resentment from Jacky's crew than I already had.

"Good job, lad." I gave Jimmy a wink. He knuckled his forehead, and went back to his duties.

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

RAKEHELL-1.jpg

You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

Found in the Ruins — Unique Jewelry

Found in the Ruins — Personal Blog

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T'were tha time o' morn when th' stars still looked bright in a lightnin' sky wots edges were jes showin th' slightest hint o' sun on th' rise.

Th deepest shadows makin cover still possible, yet th soft glow givin some things more appearance dependin in th' direction one was lookin.

A brief chill stirred Red Cat back t' a more awake state as she'd wandered further from th warm circle o' now dyin embers. She walked back closer t' th camp an spied Nate still aslumber. His face calm an his pistol laid close t' hisself under one hand. She looked about now findin it harder t' see after th' light o' th fire small as it were. Cat strode not too far towards th' nearby rise in th beach t' have a look out towards th' water. Soon th' chill would give way to a hot sun an she hoped, a good strong breeze.

Toppin th bluff Red Cat could still see Nate an th' camp only a hunnert yards by, but now could look around to th' East an North. All seemed quiet. Then she spied th' footprint. Crouchin down an drawin her pistol slowly she ran a hand through th'impression.. It warn't just made, an th' night breeze had obscured it's partner, but then she saw that there had been more movin North o' the spot where she crouched. Th' chill returned.... Had someone been wotchin 'em? R' had they happened on th' beach just after? She transferred her pistol t' her left hand an grasped th hilt o' her cutlass wit th' right. Slowly she returned t' camp in an awkward, stooped and backwards manner .. all th' while scannin th' sea grasses t' see if they moved other than wit th' gatherin breeze.

Red Cat nudged Nate wit one foot, never retreatin from her survey o' their surroundins. He stirred an she loosed th' cutlass bringin her hand t' motion him not t' make a sount. Mayhap they were now alone..mayhap they'd been all th' while. But she were wont t' take no chances.

Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help....

Her reputation was her livelihood.

I'm a pirate, love. By nature and by choice!

My inner voice sometimes has an accent!

My wont? A delicious rip in time...

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Nate woke ta someone nudgin him in the side. As he opened his eyes, there was Red Cat drawin her cutlass and givin Nate a sign to stay quiet. At first ol' Nate thought her cross at him and about ta give him what fer. Nate realized she weren't agitated at him, but something near by. Red Cat scanned their surroundings with a sharp eye in the growing light of dawn. Nate finally had ta break th silence. Nate whispered as quietly as he could. "Oi, Cat, wot ye see out there?" Red Cat gave Nate a glance before turning her eyes back to searching before she whispered back. "Up on th bluff there be tracks. I think someone were watchin us at some point, maybe not, but I ain't one ta take no mind to em." Nate slowly nodded his head. Slowly he rolled over and drew his pistol, looked over and saw his musket leaning against the water cask. Nate stood and peered about, the hairs on the back of his neck gave no sign of trouble. "We's alright Red Cat, ain't no one about now." She gave him a sidelong look. Nate pointed to a clump of brush and palms. "That where ya saw them tracks?" She nodded to him and Nate slowly nodded back. "Aye, last night. Someone were there alright. We best be on our way then, aye?" Red Cat stood taller an relaxed a bit. "Aye, time ta be on our way, but on our way ta where?" Nate had set down his musket and stuck his pistol in his belt. "We're ta catch up wit the Rakehell n Relentless. Not gonna be easy, but we'll manage, Father's sure of it." Nate turned and walked to the overturned boat and righted it, walked back over to the camp and began putting the supplies back aboard, breaking down the camp. Wit the slowly rising sun came a breeze.

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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Share on other sites

Dawn broke finding Tomas already awake. He had completed his calculations early that morning and wanted to see if the pit had remained undisturbed by its visitors. Tomas pried the plank from below the desk and slid the satchel into a narrow spot. Replacing the plank with precision, Tomas headed back to the beach to check on those near his hidden chest.

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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Red Cat stood a moment watchin Nate as he went about stowing their gear. "Wot?..." she chuckled, replacin weapons an grabbed th' few loose belongins placin em in th' boat. "Catch up? t' a brig under sail?"

"Aye" he replied wit a determined grin

"Innis weeee boat??" She laughed. Nate stood up straightnin his wesket an looked at his handiwork. He leaned in an tightened a rope round th' supplies, tuggin on it until he were satisfied that it would hold fast. He slapped th sand from his hands an slops and turned t' face her.

"Told Cap'n Ransom we'd be back afore they make th Tortugas" he looked at th boat "Aye..She'll make it.."

Cat wasn't so sure..she'd taken many a risk..but she'd just finished wit one foolish chance that'd cost her an mayhaps now Mr. Durant dearly.

"Acrost all that open sea...in a wee unarmed boat...."

Placin one foot on th edge o' th' craft, she leaned an elbow acrost her knee. Red Cat shook her head an squinted up at th' taller, sandy haired sailor, "An how do ye propose we do tha Mr. Durant? Catch up wit em you say..." It warn't impossible, th' Rakehell were damaged, an likely travelin more slowly lest she risk tearin open th' maw in her side..an given someone else were here an not makin themselves known, mahap it were better t'take a chance wit poseidon. She jes wanted t' hear wot he had t' say on th' matter.

Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help....

Her reputation was her livelihood.

I'm a pirate, love. By nature and by choice!

My inner voice sometimes has an accent!

My wont? A delicious rip in time...

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I heard Silkie's words, an uttered a few references of me own 'bout the lost souls in these waters. "Aye, lass I've heard tales 'bout them wot' doesn't know they're dead. The ones who still cling t' this world, an whose very souls are bound t' the wrecks in these waters."

Stones lit his pipe, an I said, "The spirits that haunt these waters, like the smoke from Stones' pipe, are harmless apparitions mostly." But I knew that wasn't the full truth of it.

Stones had nodded in agreement, wit' me explanation; but Silkie seemed t' be excited 'bout the prospects of an encounter wit' ghosts, harmless or not.

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Nate leaned against th side o the wee boat and put his hands on the gunnel. "How I propose we do it in this here wee boat. Firstly, I survived a ship wreck not so long ago, made up a raft outta her flotsam an survived on that fer almost a fortnight. Couldn't really make any steerage wit that, but it got me ta safety. This here's a sound boat wit a good sail. An we ain't gonna head straight fer open ocean. We'll skirt th coast long as we can, might take a bit longer than straight across, but we'll make it. An we may not have a gun or two, not sure this boat could handle a swivel, but we gots good pistols n a musket, plenty o' shot n powder. An who's really gonna pay much mind ta two sailors in a wee boat anyway?" Nate headed to the bow and started pushing it into the surf. "Be'sides, never know wot we might find along th way ta help us along." Nate grinned his wild grin and kept pushing the boat until the surf started to take hold of her. Nate looked at Red Cat still standin there. "Well, ya gonna climb aboard sos we can get along?"

~Black Nate~

Brenpen185.jpg

A ship in a puddle is better than no ship at all

Dear Saint Brendan, to mention your name is to recall much travelling.

It was in relation to voyages that you emerged as a popular Saint.

The Irish became great travelers thus spreading their faith everywhere.

Protect not only mariners but also all those who go down to the sea in ships. Amen.

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