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Thread: Freedom at all Costs: A tale of Me First Mate

  1. #11
    Join Date
    May 2009
    En route vers les étoiles.

    Default Chapter Two: Articles

    *finishing up me ablutions, I sniff meself, scentin I don't smell near half as bad as I did a moment ago*

    "One more bucket, s'il vous plaît, Trissie dear?" I says, and that fine figure of a woman, hoves another bucket of hot water
    over me punkin head. "Arrrrrrrrgh, that tis hot."

    *stands up'n out of the possing tub, all rinsed off an drippin like a gale sheet, I fling me long hair back n'out of me eyes,
    an lo and b'hold what I beheld standin in front of me? a passle of maids, all a gigglin an hoverin about*

    Through the haze of steam rolling off'n me fibbery, whilst sportin a jaunty smile, I ask, "What have we here?"

    "Well you see, Cap'n sir, me an Violet and Lydia b'took ourselves to the kitchen to fetch thy bref'fas," Evangeline starts.

    "Aye, Cap'n sir, then see? we were all a talkin about yamms, and the scullery maids, Abigail, Polly an Sophie
    over-hear'd us," Violet says, pointing to each in turn.

    "An then, they all asked to whom it twas that we were a fussin over," spoke Lydia

    "They explained to us that it was the infamous Cap'n Longbeard," 'splains Abigail.

    "The one who has been spinning the tales of adventure and romance?, I aks," pipes Polly.

    "The very same, says they," says, Sophie.

    "So we the kitchen maids, that is me, Eliza and Charlotte, Cap'n sir, came down with them to see if'n you would be so
    pleased to regale us with some more of thy tales," b'spoke Leticia.

    "Yes, and and doth thy first mate really have feelings for Remy Teio? Sir, Cap'n, Sir?" squeaks Eliza.

    *blink blink*

    "And you, young lady? Pray thee tell what thine excuse is to shirk thy labors," asks Beatrise of the last lass.

    "Well Matron Bea' I just came down to see if'n the yamms were full, plump and ready for the pickin," confesses Charlotte.
    She takes a gander towards me southern longitude, crosses her arms under her breasts, taps her foot, clicks her toungue,
    smiles an spouts, "Yes'm Bea' me thinks it's harvest time."

    *they all went to a laughin and a gigglin and a harrangin me out of me jacket an shirt, flittin here an there, pushing me
    down on some bales of laundry for a seat, breakfast tray on me lap, coffee mug in me hand, pistol braces around me
    shoulders, mien hut upon me head, me stockings laid up next to me jacket an shirt to dry, an I left in me breeches. A
    grace I shall endeavor to thank the Sea Gods for.*

    *drinkin a gulp from the cup,* "Ahh, braciare vitae, the brew of life itself."

    *making short work of the fine meal set before me, I tackle the eggs an sopp 'em up with some soft bread, an devour
    them fry cakes, only because they were smothered in maple syrup*

    Women folk, let me tell you, onest their mind is set, they can perform the twelve labors of Heracles faster than he did. By
    the time I done finished me last soppin up, and last swallow of soft bread, they had help't out Trissie, tuckin all the dirty
    laundry in them big copper cauldrons, stoked the fire, set half around me bales of laundry an barrels to sit on, fetched
    themselves a keg of ale, passin their tankards under the spout till full, took me empty tray, an refilled me coffee cup
    before me last swallow hit me gut. I felt like that William gent at the Black Friars playhouse. An audience to my liking.

  2. #12
    Join Date
    May 2009
    En route vers les étoiles.


    Now whar was I?

    "Ye were about to tell us of Remy and thy first Mate's romance prospects, ye were, yes?" giggles Eliza, the others titterin about with like sentiments.

    "Aye lass, in due course," I says.

    All seemingly settles down for a spit afterin the coconut blew up, Remy and I hurried our pace to prepare the larboard hull
    in good order, whilst me first Mate set herself to the task of mixin the paint. I grabs up me oakum bucket an began paying the
    devil's seam. Remy grabbs up the tar bucket and sanding brick an follows me up sanding the planks then tarrin the seams I just
    got through pounding oakum in. Me first Mate, well she follows up Remy's plasterin tar, paintin with sulpher et crushed glass mixed
    paint behinds Remy there, ya see.

    I thought Remy would sand his fingers off, the way he paid more attention to what me first Mate was adoin, then what he was a doin.
    In fact a couple of times when he did run the brick over his fingers, he drew a mirthful chuckle out of Giselle, me thinks stinging his
    pride a bit.

    All in all the work went well. We labored till the tide tickled our toes, an seeing the lower half of the hull was sealed good an painted
    fine, I called a halt to our industry, acclaiming well done's to me little crew, stating we will start back up at first light.

    I walked to the edge of the beach and sat down, whilst Remy stood behind Giselle awaiting till she finished up her part of the prow.
    She only had one or two more daubs to daub. I dont know what got into the lad, but just as Giselle had daubed her last spot an
    was about to drop her brush into her paint bucket, and just when she turns around, Remy goes and kick splashes water all over her front. Oh that lit me first Mate's powder keg, it did. She went from shock to fury quicker than old Hobb tricks a soul. I litterally thought her hair would catchon fire. Remy did too, he had realized his mistake most abruptly and took off in any direction away from her, long steppin down the beach as he went. Lieutenant Antoinette Giselle la Vindii, not wanting to allow her prey to flee too far, split the sea and took off after him. Giselle was half way to catching up to Remy when she let her paint brush fly. Remy curious as to how far he was
    in front, thought it best to look back an see, just as he turned around -- SPLAT!! -- the paint brush caught 'im square in the face.

    Accurate, I am telling you, that woman has a natural knack for accuracy.

    The stunned look on Remy's mug, gave Giselle the humors. She boled over with knee slappin laughter. Perceiving his advantage, Sailing
    Master Remy Teio, the Acadian, quickly runs up to Giselle, and before she could get away in protest, he throws her over his shoulder
    an stomps off into the rolling tide. Giselle just a kickin giggle yelpin, beatin on Remy's back bone with her fists. The deeper they got the
    more she protested his courtship, increasin her pelts and kicks. This did not set well with Remy, so he goes and spanks her backside
    witha smart -- SMACK! Now, this did not set well at'all with Giselle, for she took a'holt of ahalfa pound of Remy's back flesh and
    bit down hard.

    "OW," he yells. "Vous magnifique requin vous!" {You gorgeous shark you!} and he throws her in the tidal waves. Thinking the affair
    over, Remy sloshes up the surf over to whar I was a'sittin. Drenched and with white paint still smattered across his face, he holds
    up his palms an aks me, "What did I do wrong, mon Capitaine?"

    Before I could speech out my usual retort, Lt. la Vindii, sails out of the surf, leaps into the air and double fist smacks Remy on the back of his head. Notwithstanding, the both of them plow into me, who was just innocently was just guiltlessly sitting there a'watching
    the show.

    They both quickly stood up facing me, gather their composure, lookin all the more guilty of spikin the school master's chair. I stood up,
    takes me hat off'n me headbone, lays it on the beach sand. Takes me shirt off, brushes the sand off'n me breeches, an charges the both of
    them, like a bull in season. I catches them both a'midrift at their waistes, picks them both up upon me shoulders, an stomps out into
    the surf with my quarry in shock an awe at how bigger I was than they were. Well I do partake of massive amounts of ale, ye see.

    I set a course for a deep part of the cove, and attaining that latitude, I drop me feets from out under me, and sinks us all three under
    the waves. Letting go, I pop up, wipin me beard and spewing sea water. Me mates, also pop up and just stare at me. Funny how funny
    they both looked. Giselle wet as wet can git, and Remy still white paint on his face, spewin out brine.

    I says, "As Captain of this fine crew, I declare the swimmin lamp lit," I says, smiling at the both of them in turn.

    So in turn, they both looked at each other, then at me, grinned one of them sinister grins, the both of them did, and lunged for me,
    dunking me into the briney shallows. I could hear their laughter bubble down, as I groped the sand for purchase.

    Poppin up, I gasp't the fresh air, fillin me lungs full, then let out a hardy guffaw. Joy being contagious, Giselle and Remy both started
    a trill of laughter, lastin quite the spell.
    Last edited by King Alboin; 04-24-2015 at 03:22 AM.
    Dog of War grrrrr


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