Pyrate Queen Ginger's Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 11 most recent journal entries recorded in
Pyrate Queen Ginger's LiveJournal:
|Saturday, February 14th, 2004|
|Arr, ye won't believe it!
So's I'm a sailin' to Hispaniola quite some time ago lookin' for the lost treasure o' Calico Jack Rackham.
So's I'm going on a map I bought off a one-armed fishmonger in Montego and I's got assurances the map is th' real thing an' that the treasure's such ta buy me 3 new sloops if I were wantin' an' maybe some pretty baubles n' knee socks an' what haves ye.
Anyhows, the map takes us to some sea caves fars from hide or hair o' any man. When Swabby n' Peg-Legged Stu hears the winds blusterin' through the caves, they starts ta shakin' an' clutchin' at each others like a pair o' nancies and talkin' 'bout the ha'ants what roam in the dark ta keep folks away from the treasure. I says "You scallywags stop yer shennanigans an' drop anchor! We're goin' in!"
So's I'm headin' into the caves in me rowboat when I sees a glowin' apparition what looks like a bonny youth an it calls to me "Giiiiiinnnnngeeeeer..." an holds out it's hand. As I looks at it, I fall into a trance o' sorts and follow him to a tunnel. I could hear swabby callin' outs ta me, but I kept a followin' th' bonny ghost.
So's the ghost takes me to his cave an' kisses me on th' lips an' I falls into a slumber. When I wakes up, the Ghost is sayin' "wench, cook me some cheeses and macaronis!" an' so's I'm still in a trance and cook the ghost some cheeses an' macaroni's. Then the Ghost wants flapjacks, then apple fritters, then hardtack casserole, all of which I makes. Then the ghost wants me not touchin' 'im afore nightfall, then the ghost sez I ain't sensitive to 'is feelins, then the ghost tells me: "I ain't gots 'emotional investment' in ye, so's ye best be goin'."
An when I finally wander outa the caves inta tha light o' day, one whole year 'ad gone past!
Now, I war plump from all the cheeses n' macaroni's, so's I didn't have trouble waitin' the few days it took for a passin' vessel to see me bonfire an' take me on. Evenchally I gots back ta Montego an' found Swabby an' boxed 'is ears an' gots me ship back. Thar's swashbucklin' adventures beyond that, but I'm just a' catchin' up.
|Thursday, August 8th, 2002|
|Saucer o' milk miss Red Ann?
Arr n' Ahoy! Long time, no SEA! Ahar ahar! Well, truth be told, thar be lots o' sea, but that's not so goods a joke, see?
Anyhows, I never have tolds ye about me whittlin' hobby. See, when the days is long at sea and thars no ships to be a-raidin' or cabin' boys ta be a-gropin', I likes to whittle these wood bits inta shapes like sharks n' mermaids n' such, see? I gots pretty good at doin' em, an' would sometimes give 'em away as gifts to differnt folks I meet.
So's there's this other pyrate queen 'round the southern regions known as Capn' Red Ann. Capn' Red Ann is well known around the Pyrate taverns for puttin' on airs, showin' off 'er half-nekkid carcass and talkin' in a high-falutin', slightly touched in th' head manner while downin' rum like any deckhand. Anyhows, she's mighty popular, so I figgured as a gesture o' goodwill n' solidarity, I'd whittle 'er a mermaid what looked like her and send Swabby to deliver it. Anyhows, I hear she's d'lighted with th' mermaid and I'm right pleased. I was so happy with the Red Ann mermaid I made 'er though, that I made a few more of 'em what I sold later at a shop to help pay for new ropes n' such.
Anyhows, I don't think much of it 'til I'm out at a tavern n' Red Ann is flauntin' around a garish-painted piece o' whittled wood that I KNOWS was one o' mine what someone had altered. She don't look me in the eye, but is sayin' loudly enough for me ta hear "Lookie this nice present that th' wench Kathy O'Malley made fer me! Isn't she the bestest?" Anyways, I don't say nothin', but I figgur she was sore over findin' out I made other carvin's what I sold. Still, I figgured she'd be a flattered ta be the subject, so I admit I be a mite peevish over 'er pettiness.
So's part o' me feels bad, but another part o' me just wants to run the spoiled wench through with a scimitar n' put 'er out of 'er misery. Arrrr! Current Mood: Arrrr!
|Tuesday, February 19th, 2002|
|Reveries o' the Wanton Mermaid
I don't recalls as I ever told ye lads about me great love Cap'n Black Tom. While th' likes o' Cap'n Bloody Henry might be handsomer'n Black Tom by the standards of yer average wench or buggerer, there's somethin' what Black Tom's gots that Bloody Henry don't. Black Tom's gots what the Frenchies calls th' "Joonussy kwar."
Black Tom can pillage n' plunder with the best o' them, but he pulls it off loik it ain't no troubles. Loik it's just a game o' tenbones. 'e's got teeth what looks like a wolf an' smiles at ye like 'e'll take a bite out o' ye. Black Tom makes me feel like I gots the faints n' quivers...an' if you tells anybodies I sez that, I'll keel-haul ye.
|Tuesday, January 8th, 2002|
|All is chagrined, Arrr!
After leavin' the Mediterranean with a hold full o' plundered dubloons, we made our way back towards the Caribbean. We docked in Montego and I sent my manservant, Swabby, ashore to get new rum casks. When he returned, he had a wrapped box which he gives to me. On the box it says, all scrawly-like: "To my preshus Pyrate Queen Ginger, Luve from DeVega." Inside the box was a concertina.
Nows, I'm all happy-like curz I'm thinking that me swarthy ol' cabin boy is thinkin' o' me and was right sweet to give me a concertina, bein' as 'e knows how I likes the sea chanteys an' all. I especially likes the one about the Pyrate Cap'n what falls in love with the mermaid and trades 'is left eyeball to a crafty pelican what promises 'im a magic elixir that lets 'im breath underwaters, 'ceptin that the elixir is really just brine shrimp an' 'e ends up drownin'. Anyway, me point is that I were touched that me ol' cabin boy was so thoughtful-like.
Anyhows, later I went inta town and happened to run across DeVega in the market. I goes on and on about how much I liked 'is present until 'e says "Wot?! I gave that concertina as a present to SWABBY!" I says "But it had me name on it!" and 'e says "Swabby musta done that. I gave it to 'IM! I can't believe the bugger gave away me gift to 'im!" So me and DeVega was both disappointed an' chagrined, all at the fault o' that wily ol' fish!
I had to go back to the ship and sing 3 sea chanteys and give Swabby a caning before I felt to rights again.
|Sunday, December 9th, 2001|
|Booty an' such...
It's been awhile at sea, me hearties! Seems I went sailin' to the Mediterranean in search o' me great love Capn' Black Tom. Seems I run across 'is ship, the Wanton Mermaid, round the Straits o' Gibraltar 'an 'e gives me a bit 'o the cold shoulder. I's all loik "Hey" an' 'e's all loik "What are you doin' here?" an' I'm all loik "Jus' plunderin', y'knows" and 'e's all loik "talk ta ye laters." Not to be put off like, I decide to sail elsewhere's an' see what's about with Cap'n Bloody Henry, who's known to be a bit handsomer than Black Tom anyhows. Bloody Henry's more'n willin' ta pay me the time o' day an' we have a little "cap'n's meetin'" if ya know what I mean, and 'e's able ta "launch my fleet" if ya know what I mean.
So's even though I'm headin' back West-ways, I have ta say that the trip was more'n satisfyin'.
|Sunday, November 18th, 2001|
|Bloody Cap'n Billy
So's there's this pirate cap'n who was givin' me the once over in Jamaica. 'E goes by the name o' "Bloody Cap'n Billy." Sharp as a tack 'e was, so's I was a little intrigued-like. Only trouble was that 'e has a touch o' the trenchmouth. When situations turned toward the amourous-like, I be thinkin' "land 'o the mighty! 'Tis like kissin' death 'isself!"
So's I don't cares how much 'e likes whatnots same's as me...I be saying "look at th' time! I guess I best be washin' me hair now's about!"
Methinks 'e should be chewin' the mintleaves and such. Arrr!
|Friday, November 2nd, 2001|
|If he were yer man, he warnt actin' like it last night!
Me cabin boy, DeVega, in spite o' his fiancee, has been havin' a mite o' trouble keepin' his burly hands offa me. It don't help, I'm sure, that I keep takin' a bit too much rum and gropin' at his breeches all th' time.
After our run at sea, we had to return to Montego. Sures enough, tho, DeVega goes runnin' off ta his betrothed who, due to a little love-bite on 'is neck, is not unawares of the fishiness goin' on. Sos she comes up to the dock and shouts at me "Keep away from me fiancee, ye wonton strumpet!" To which I shouted back "Ye best be talkin' to me hand, wench, 'cause I be ownin' that man!"
Bit o' a cur, she was, but she waren't comin' near me scimitar. Sos DeVega got 'is ears boxed and waren't on the ship when we set sail again. Arrrr. Wenches!
|Wednesday, October 3rd, 2001|
|New cabin boy, arr!
A picked up a new cabin boy a few weeks back in Montego, name o' DeVega. He's young, swarthy and built like an ox...with fists near as big as me head! Naturally, I wanted to take advantage of this new cabin boy as soon as possible, so I invited him to my quarters where I plied him with rum and invited him to lay his weary head on me bosom. Although he does so, he is all shaky and his eyes are all darty-like. It turns out he's betrothed to a merchant's daughter in Montego and "doesn't think it's right."
It's getting to be quite a bit o' time since I last "plundered some booty" if ya know what I mean. The last one was Cap'n Quick, who I'd guess is so named because of his tendency to "fire his cannon before the ship draws nigh" if ya know what I mean.
So each day at sea I'm eyeballin' me new cabin boy like a chuck steak and he's eyeballin' me like a bowl o' peaches. How long do you suppose he'll hold out?
|Thursday, September 6th, 2001|
|Pyrate Captains don't ask for directions
Today I docked my ship in a modestly prosperous port in hopes of selling some goods acquired in my last raid. I had a few fine garments and many shoes. (I strongly recommend having your prisoners remove their shoes prior to plank-walking, as you can often sell those shoes for enough gold to buy a new cask of rum!)
I heaped my sack of shoes and garments onto Swabby's back and set out for the used goods store. In my attempts to make the trip more efficient, I attempted a "shortcut" which instead took us significantly off course. Swabby kept saying "Where are we? Do you even know where we are?" and I'd reply "Of course I know where I am! I know how to get there! Now shut your mealy mouth 'fore I beat ye bloody!"
Surely enough we found the used goods store...it took a bit longer than planned, but we found it. I know many a wench who will smugly say "Foolish men never ask for directions!" but I tell ye this: Pyrate Captains don't ask for directions. No pyrate, man or woman, ever got to be Captain by asking for directions. Wenches can snicker all they want, but that's why they're getting groped by scallywags in ale-houses while I am cutting throats on my own ship and being waited upon by rosy-cheeked young cabin-boys--and they best not forget it.
At the used goods store, the landlubbin' wenches sniffed haughtily at my selection of shoes and only bought one pair. If they are so high-and-mighty, why are they working in a used goods store? Arrrrr.
|Wednesday, September 5th, 2001|
|A listless day at sea
Arrr...I'm so tired today. I've been laying around my quarters nibbling on pineapple chunks ignoring my duties as pirate captain. I can't even muster the energy to tell my manservant, Swabby, to hoist the sails, swab the deck, prod the prisoners with hot pokers, etc. I can hear him rough-housing on deck with his pal peg-legged Stu. They are singing their sea chanteys too loudly and I don't even have the energy to go up and administer a beating.
Is it all these days of calm at sea? Am I in need of a storm? A raid? Is it my diet?