The Queen of Tortuga (original) (raw)
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded inThe Queen of Tortuga: A Democratic Pirate Ship sai's LiveJournal:
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| Monday, December 30th, 2019 | |
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| _8:19 pm_[temperance14] |
Staggering (again) up the gangplank (what is left of it) late for Christmas...EXCEPT... It's only the 6th day of the Christmas season. And all the Piratical Peeps I know hold out for TWELVE.Why, there's even a little song about it *ahem*Note this performance is brought to you by Mad (ain't they all) Jack Tar's Tabby Tidbits for Tortugan Tabbies.Iffen yer cat has one eye, walks bowlegged, and rolls back into yer with a scallywag's twinkle in the remaining eye, they'llenjoy *deep breath* Mad Jack Tar's Tabby Tidbits for Tortugan Tabbies.Only the finest chunks of chum for your marauding moggy.Come is three...flavors? Slimehead, oyster toadfish, and Humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa with squiddy treats.Hey, I just agree to parley their advertising. I don't control what They send on the message in the bottle. I gets a few groats for this.*unrolls parchment...stomps out the time* uh-ONE uh-TWO uh-THREEE!...On the first day of Christmas, the Master gave to meee....A rotting ship in dry dock on the beachOn the second day of Christmas, the Master gave to meee...Two matching cannon balls (with my name scratched on 'em! At least I think that's my name)On the third day of Christmas, Magenta de Spada gave to meee... (no I don't know what scanning is--sounds like sumthin' for the naveegatour.)Three Frenchy small clothes (From Elizabeth's Secrets, with lace and everythi---wait. That's seaweed and fishing line!)On the fourth day of Christmas, Ellen Burnsides gave to meee...Four carving birds! And cooked to a turn, a jus with a side of hard tack an' mushy peas!What that woman can do with a stunned pigeon!On the FIFTH day of Christmas, Bonny BoardingAxe gave to meeeFIVE (un)DEAD SEA COWWWWSThank yew, thank yew...what? Today's the 30th?*counts on fingers cuz she's ehdjoomucated*OH BLOODY HELL! Right then...On the SIXTH BLOODY DAY, the cabin boy gave to me...Six rummies laying...all over the deck....I'm not cleaning this up. (WHY do you fools drink whatever the cabin boy hands you? The SURGEON suggested it? WHY do you drink whatever the surgeon has in a cup with an umbrella in it?!)That's it. I'm off for the night. I've run out of lyrics for now, and I'll be back when this is mopped up.Besides, it's CarryOakey night at deVere's. First prize is an oakey bucket full of deVere's sort of best rum.*stomp stomp stagger pitch EEEK sploosh gurgled cussing* (Comment on this) |
| Tuesday, May 21st, 2019 | |
| _9:09 pm_[temperance14] |
*Hobbles up the gangplank, leaning on big ugly cane, breathing hard* "Who...*wheeze*...made these *wheeze* gangplanks so *WHEEEEZE* farking...angled? They should be a straight easy walk from deck to ship. With handrails.Maybe little canvas belts that wrap around pulleys and are moved along by hamsters running below.Stupid Bloody Johnson would know how to work that out."Stout old woman leans her cane--the head carved like the skull of a manatee--against the rotting mast of the ship.She looks up at the ship's bell. The rope has rotted as well."Well, f--I didn't come all this way just to--ah hell!"She picks up the cane at tip, swings it around angrily, then lets it fly at the bell.The manatee cane head strikes the bell and a loud metallic chime rings out: *DU-GONG* (Comment on this) |
| Wednesday, March 15th, 2017 | |
| _1:56 pm_[temperance14] |
Runs up the gangplank past the giant spiderwebs and torn sails and skeleton draped over the ships wheel (must remember to buy more ZombieBeGone zombie motels--"They stagger in, but they don't crawl out")...Up to the ship's bell and gives it several hard yanks:CLANG CLANG CLANG...*klunk*Ah well. Ship's tagged again for this year. (2 Comments |Comment on this) |
| Saturday, May 11th, 2013 | |
| _6:46 pm_[temperance14] |
Runs up the gangplank on to the dusty, unused deck of the ship, through the cobweb--CHRIST DEEP FRIED ON A STICK, HOW BIG ARE THE SPIDERS ON THIS BARGE?!--and takes a flying leap at the ship's bellhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu0Bjqak6_gOK, I get to keep the ship for another year.Mine mine, all mein. Heheheheh. (Comment on this) |
| Tuesday, September 4th, 2012 | |
| _11:46 pm_[barnabas_truman] |
Here we go again Suddenly a scuffle as of moving furniture and bowling ninepins can be heard from the charthouse. Someone inside bangs on the door a few times, budging it just far enough open for a rusty cutlass-blade to stick through and slice through the layers of cobwebs holding it shut.The door creaks open the rest of the way, and Barnabas the navvygator, his beard unusually long and unkempt, steps out, blinks at the bright sunlight, and stretches his limbs."Ahoy there, me hearties!" he bellows. "Ye'll be pleased t'hear I've finally finished plotting out our course from, ah, whatever port we're in now to... er... well, I forget, but wherever it is, the course be all plotted. If ye've any business ashore, be about it and quick, for we sails with the tide!"Thus having spake, he ambles off towards the starboard to feed the sea-cows. (2 Comments |Comment on this) |
| _7:05 pm_[temperance14] |
*Annual stroll along the docks* *She's creaky, and dirty, and her linen is torn, and her bottom is scuffed...but enough about Cannonball Jane. She's here to inspect the Queen of Tortuga.*Well, let's see if the moorings are all in place.What have we here? Six sea cows, all swimming in a circle, nose to tails.Yep. The moo-rings are all in place.*ship's bell instead of rim-shot*Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the porc salé avec pain dur. Current Mood:  amused (1 Comment |Comment on this) |
| Tuesday, August 9th, 2011 | |
| _10:43 pm_[ribbin] |
A northerly gale All hands on deck you scurvy lugs! When the gunner's the first to hear the breeze it means half-rations for the whole crew and no more rum than ye can fit in your plugged-up ears! A stiff breeze, red sky at night and narry a lightning strike and you're drinking in the pubs? Blasted cheap excuses for pirates!Burnsides! Chart us a course out o' these blistering doldrums! Mackie Flint, I need cutlery for all hands! Jane, see to your powder and shine those guns, we're takin' the first flag we see! Molly, take the wheel, and Bill, aloft and spread those wings, this breeze won't last! The rest o' ye bail, scrub, haul, and batten what needs it! On the double, who's not aboard stays in port!Molly, take us straight with the wind, let's make some knots quick as y'like. If this keeps its heading we can make Havana by the week's end and then we'll be rollin' in fat merchant vessels full up on Spanish gold and Cuban cigars! Take a load of those to Savannah and ye can all retire as gentle bastards and ladies not-in-waitin'!This is it, lads and ladies, last voyage of the Queen of Tortuga! Let's make it a clean one and we'll be fat and rich before ye know it! Current Mood:  piratical (Comment on this) |
| Monday, July 4th, 2011 | |
| _10:19 am_[temperance14] |
In honor of that great country.... Tortuga's Queen is a mighty fine shipWhen she sails on faraway seasBut moored in port she's a sorry sortFor she never went to AustralyeeeeeWe'll sail due south said our Master John TarSweep east to Botany BayThe journey was planned by the Naveegator's handBut we never got to AustralyaaaaayLet's raise the sail and our tankards tooFor we'll drink their colonies dryThe bastards have tales, and they still have ale--For we're yet to land at Australiiiigh***************************I hope that resolves my earlier pronunciation query. Current Mood: amused (3 Comments |Comment on this) |
| Tuesday, July 20th, 2010 | |
| _7:30 pm_[temperance14] |
Just checking the rope lines and check things out.Yep, everything looks fine. Be back in another two years. Current Mood:  Save Our Ship (4 Comments |Comment on this) |
| Wednesday, January 20th, 2010 | |
| _7:14 pm_[barnabas_truman] |
Shantey time! Tortuga Queen's a mighty ship_Heave away, haul away!_She sailed out on a southern trip.We're bound for South Australia! _Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia!_We're Cali born and Cali bred_Heave away, haul away!_Tanned on the arms and thick in the head.We're bound for South Australia! _Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia!_Our helmsman is not smart at all_Heave away, haul away!_He steered full sail into a squall.We're bound for South Australia! Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia! Tortuga Queen ain't got no sails_Heave away, haul away!_They're all blown off in storms and gales.We're bound for South Australia! Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia! Tortuga Queen ain't got no masts_Heave away, haul away!_They're all knocked down by thundery blasts.We're bound for South Australia! _Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia!_Australia has such lovely shores_Heave away, haul away!_But we can't go there any more.We're bound for South Australia! _Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia!_So now we're back in Davisville_Heave away, haul away!_Of dancing at least we'll get our fill.We're bound for South Australia! Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia! Haul away, you rolling kings!Heave away, haul away!Haul away, you'll hear me singWe're bound for South Australia!Current Mood:  chipper (1 Comment |Comment on this) |
| Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 | |
| _11:58 am_[ribbin] |
Pirate festival! Argh, mates!Quick reminder to ye all- Pirate Festival in Vallejo this weekend!-Johnny Tar, Shipsmaster Current Mood: piratical! (Comment on this) |
| Wednesday, April 9th, 2008 | |
| _9:13 pm_[masterfiddler] |
OK, maybe I'm being impetuous, and I'm askin' fer help Alrighty, Mates. I may be impetuous, but I am grabbing a barrel of gun powder from the hold, putting a fuse in the bung hole, and asking for help to get the barrel to the aft catapult. If we do this right, we can get this to land on the far side of their ship, so the blast carries away from our ship.Or am I being hasty? Save the Frippery!!! (2 Comments |Comment on this) |
| _11:19 am_[temperance14] |
And now, a word from our sponsor Alright. Lend a hand here. I'll not be the only one spinning this yarn. Your choice--if it's me, there's going to be more manatees in this.There's a clockwork, steam-driven (or another energy, hmm?) submersible here attempting to violate our liberties. What are you salt-encrusted bilge rats going to do about it?Have they got the firepower? Have they weapons? Have they diabolical devices (OHHHH, I hope so!). I need you Scientific-Method Age o' Reasoning steamgrinding types to bulk out this ship.And do you see anyone else coming out of the hatch of the Caledonian? Fill out this crew if you like. Clothing and body parts optional and to your indiscretion.yep, edited 12.30pm. And the world is better for it. (4 Comments |Comment on this) |
| _10:12 am_[ribbin] |
Boarding! Board 'er, lads! You heard Miz Jane- time ter see what this here hoochie's made of, and clean the Celt's clock!Cannonball Jane- the gundeck's yours, as are the ladies. Aim for the water line, girls, let's sink this one double-quick! Current Mood:  aggressive (Comment on this) |
| _9:51 am_[temperance14] |
ALL HANDS! We hope.... When we last left our crew, it had encountered the Clockwork Caledonian, and its Captain, Mistress Sofia&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&There is much that has been said, and written, I am sure, of such a woman as Sophia Von Strumpf D'Azure McCharraigin. What words have been used to describe her face, her form, her charisma and impression of character upon the men and women of this wide mortal world? Trollop. Tramp. Tart. I know more--I've got a thesaurus in my cabin. She must have sensed my gaze---actually she might have noticed the stares of more than a few of the crew who had come updeck by now. Her head and body suddenly pulled up like an afronted mermaid on the prow of a ship, and she lifted her nose as if she'd gotten a whiff of Mrs. Burnside's Pig 'n Pea Surprise casserole that we forgot in the larder. "You needn't look at me that way," she declared, "I am not dressed this way to please myself--nor any ill-mannered sailor!"She finished the last statement with frosty glare that visibly deflated the spirits of our abashed male (and some of our female) crew members. But, then she she took another deep breath to speak and all they all seemed to feel better. "In our recent adventures in Morocco, I used this costume to infiltrate the secret outpost of the Sheikh Al-Bwahaha, procurer of innocent young girls for slave trade, maker of salacious and fiendish instruments and devices for the most base of human desires, and designer of naughty salt and pepper shakers for indiscriminate discriminating hostesses of the European elite."My purpose in penetrating the perverse potentate's pleasure praetorium was not only to rescue a young lady--who even now claim sanctuary within the the _Clockwork Caledonian_--no, indeed, I was on a mission to find in his possession such artifacts and books or ancient lore that will rend the very fabric of the current scientific knowledge of this modern world!""Mistress?""Yes Nanny?""You was doing fine in that first part with your perverseness and potentating, but the rest of that sentence didn't have no P in it."Nanny...plug your piehole."Mistress Sofia tossed back her luxuriant mane (ain't it always?), and continued."We extracted information from the Sheikh's henchmen regarding two scientific discoveries. One of these involved a rare meteoric ore. This metal has astounding potential--well, simple seafarers as yourselves cannot comprehend how this metal will affect mankind's destiny to explore and travel. This will take us far beyond the limits of the oceans, and into the skies!" She paused and refocused on the assembled crew of the Tortuga."That ore found its way to an irreputable merchant in the port of Valle de Cuarzo. And we...extracted...information from him that you absconded with a good amount of that precious metal.""Well," I replied, "I was on that shopping trip, and I can guarantee that there was no metal, ore, rocks, or even junk jewelry in that cart.""Ah!" Her eyes were glowing again. "The ore had been refined, so to speak, by the Sheikh's metalworkers. It was flattened and drawn into fine, flat threads--much like gold thread. For the purposes of smuggling it was sewn into the lace of silk...garments. The sort worn by ladies of lesser reputation--which leads us naturally to your crew."Now then. In the name of Science--and my ships awfully big guns--stand and deliver your unmentionables!"************This could not be! Relinquishing our dainty bits would demoralize the crew. It would violate our freedom. Hell, the wearing of delicate silks was the only dispensation allowed by Master Tar to avoid the requisite daily salt water swim ("oh, but Master Tar, the salt does tear up my pretty lacey bits so...see, if you look closely...") .Bloody hell, the Ambassador. I'm not dealing with her if we loose our knickers. I'll not leave my cabin until the new moon, if that happens. I pull the cutlass from the scabbard at my hip."By Neptune's Nipples, ladies, we'll fight for our frippery. She says she has guns, but I haven't seen them yet! We've got a full crew and she's only got her nursemaid--Master Tar, orders to board that clockwork toy?!" Current Mood:  Oh Noes! What Next? (Comment on this) |
| Tuesday, November 6th, 2007 | |
| _5:25 pm_[temperance14] |
When we last left our ship... I ought to turn around. There is a whale, or some sort of sea monster, offering me tea.It's big. I really ought to turn around and be polite. As soon as I've recovered a pulse.And checked the condition of my my small clothes. It did offer tea nicely....mayhaps it will have biscuits too?************I turn to face the Beast from the Deep. ( Read more...Collapse )Someone better keep the Ship's Master below deck. And the ship's surgeon. Maybe even that cabin boy. (1 Comment |Comment on this) |
| Wednesday, October 31st, 2007 | |
| _5:10 pm_[temperance14] |
On the night of All Saints Eve... Yo ho, you hoo, a pirate's bloody private serving maid's life for me.*SWAK mop mop mop* "Clean the deck, mop the deck, must keep a tidy ship..." he says!If our good Master Tar would not overindulge in rum and spicy eel sushi, THEN attempt to "do donuts" in the middle of a high sea with the Fiddler's Fancy, then we wouldn't worry about keeping a clean deck! Two grown fools, spinning their crews in circles!But what can one expect---Master Tar allowing a MUSICIAN to join up with our ship and our fortunes! This does not bode well. Fiddlers are bad luck to a ship.Ah well. It could have been worse than a musician....we might have gained a drummer.**********ending soliloquy, and looking over the ships side, hand on pistol*ai, they're out there ag'in.....undead manatees.....sneaking, putrefying, deadly....Well, not really deadly. Turns out undead manatees do not feed upon the flesh of the living. They do, however, rise from the depths at night to hunt for....fudge.And the Ambassadors, the both of them, smuggled contraband chocolate aboard ship in our last port, and these sea devils have been trailing us every since.We think they change, on moonlit nights. They turn into mer-like creatures, and climb the ropes. We find their wet footprints in the morning, and no one else aboard the crew will claim these marks.Aye. Tis a chilling sight. Cold, wet footprints.And candy wrappers. Lots of candy wrappers, scattered all over the ship, the little bilge-ridden slobs.And giggling. All hours. Kept me up until 3am last night....No, wait...that was Master Tar and the Fiddler. Stupid rum. No real pirate is up all night giggling and playing "Spin the Cabin Boy."*************ending another unforeseen soliloquy, Jane listens for sounds in the suddenly quiet night. No sounds. Just the sound of water, lapping against the old timbers. The silver moon comes out from behind the clouds....nothing moves on the surface of the sea...*It's too quiet. I know they're out there. Are they hiding from me....or did something shy them off?*listening....waves...and a humming is heard from the sea...*A humming, a whirring, clickings and grindings....strange noises rising from below the dark water.The water is now rising and pitching, waves slapping against the rocking ship.Something deep in the water---and by the rising sounds, coming to the surfaceSomething---now glowing as it approaches. There is groaning, but not like ship's wood. The grinding, growling---not alive, but like sounds of old mills. And now, knocking, like the advancing hands of a church yard's clock.And then with a crash of waves, it rushes the surfaces, a behemoth with a smooth gleaming wet skin in the moonlight, armored like nothing that was ever born in the depths. Ridged along its back, with curved blade-like flares, it rises, breaches high, then falls back upon the surface with a splash---agleam with phosphorous lights on its surface.I turn, running from the rail, slipping upon the wet deck to fling myself at the warning bell. I grab the rope and pull, calling out in the night along with the din of the bell: "ALL HANDS! ALL HANDS! To the cannons as fast as ye can! Hell is risen on our port side!"And behind me, the glowing becomes brighter and I hear, "Mistress Sofia, do you think we should offer her tea?" Current Mood:  weird (1 Comment |Comment on this) |
| Sunday, October 7th, 2007 | |
| _5:28 pm_[barelyproper] |
Maken sure yeh know bout this one http://piratemod.com/PirateModMain.htmYer mighten see a few familiar faces wearin the pyratical gear. (Comment on this) |
| Wednesday, September 19th, 2007 | |
| _4:16 pm_[loupyone] |
This be proper piratin' weather.... Thar's a storm brewing on the seas today! Thunder and lightening, by Davy Jone's plaid skivvies! Batten down the hatches ya scurvy dogs and prepare to weather the storm....."Strike the bell, second mate,Let us go below.A storm's a brewing up aboveand the wind's a-starting to blow.I look upon the glassand I see that it is fell,so hurry up ya lazy git andStrike, Strike the Bell!" Current Mood:  mischievous (1 Comment |Comment on this) |
| _9:08 am_[ribbin] |
Yar, mates! This here socialistic pirate ship be now rollin' 'pon the main for night on twelve month! Break out the grog an celebrate Talk Like A Pirate Day! Current Mood: amused (8 Comments |Comment on this) |
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