TH' NOOSE AIN'T LOOSE: PART TH' FOURTH

PART TH’ FOURTH


Afore I’d e’en swallowed me first cup o’ rum...alright then, me second...fine, third! and flicked th’ ants offen me victuals, boot steps crunched on th’ gravel path leadin’ to our group and I looked up t’ see th’ Captain o’ th’ British garrison approachin’ our crew, flanked by armed British guard and a group o’ Scots...Black Watch no doubt from th' scowls they give me. His deadlights were set directly upon me. Give a tickle it did...though it might o’ been th’ ants.


Now, I ain’t ne’er been in a position similar t’ this where it turned out waggish. Them bayonets is pointy. So, it surprised me naught when th’ Captain ordered, “On your feet, Madame. You are under arrest.”


Which is ne’er a good thing t’ be said t’ ye whence yer tryin’ t’ eat yer cheese.


So, I hoisted me arse up offen me blanket an’ met th’ Captain full on.


He were a well-spoken, handsome man wit’ a certain roguish glint in his eye but full o’ twaddle as he read off a list o’ crimes, piratical in nature, I was t’ be sent t’ trial fer. An’ me lookin’ like laced mutton that day. Go figure.


Seems th’ crux o’ their wee onslaught on me person were that I matched all known descriptions o’ that other, slightly less infamous pirate, Anne Bonny!


Anne Bonny fer blood’s sake? Anne Bonny? Drat that pirate wench! I knew e’en as I were sayin’, “Aye.” That I ne’er should o’ let her borry me lace bodice an’ third bes’ bloomers. Especially not after I seen th’ state o’ me drawers whence she returned ‘em. Know ye, that Rackem’s got some strange tastes. And I’ve no doubt Read were paradin ‘round in ‘em as well. Took me a whole half a day day t' air 'em out!


Th’ Captain kept insistin’ I were Bonny which only made me mad as she ain’t half as purty as I am added t’ th’ fact she be havin' atrocious table manners!


I belched a wet one then and stared th’ Captain down.


I figured I had two choices: Convince him I weren’t Anne Bonny and thus avoid a hangin’ or, well, actually I had only th’ one choice: Avoid a hangin’.


‘Twould have been a simple thing t’ bat me eyes and play th’ coy and innocent lass.
And I intended t’ do jus’ that. Right ‘till me gob opened up and came blurtin’ out,
“Aye then ye daft British bugger...I be no Anne Bonny! I be Violet Moorfields, pirate th’ Eglantine! Scourge o’ whate’er I touch an’ more likely t’ slit yer throat from gizzard t' gut wit’ a rusty cutlass an’ then write home t’ tell yer Muther what I done fer th’ pure amusement o’ it then t’ bid ye a good day!”


There now I thought, that sounded scary.


“Pirate you say?” the Captain politely inquired wit’ a smile, seemingly unruffled.
I admit, he were right good whence it come t’ that.


“Aye! Pirate!” I spit back.


Murmurs o’ “no!” an’ “uh-oh!” an’ “here, put this cheese in yer gob!” came from me unarmed mates standin’ watch behind.


“You freely admit before this guard to being a...pirate?” th’ Captain asked.


“Aye! That I do.”


“Seize her.” He gave th’ command as eager Red Coats an’ Black Watch Scots surrounded me as I caught a glimpse o’ me husband standin’ on th’ side o’ th’ guard.


“Wait! Wait! I may have misunderstood th’ question.”


Hey, it was worth a shot.


“Pirate!” He pronounced with that quietly smooth , yet deadly way he had o’ speakin’. ‘Twould o’ been kinda excitin’ in other circumstances. I though t' tuck that away fer future reference.


Aye. Pirate. I thought inside me mind as th’ old, familiar thrill o’ pride rose up from me boots followed by an e’en more profound thought: Ohhhh....crap.


Me husband caught me eye at that moment.


“Aye well, if ye stayed home o’ a night this sort o’ thing would na be happenin now would it?”


His comment caught th’ Captain’s attention.


“You know this lass? And I use the term...slackly.”


Me husband looked me directly in th’ eye.


“Nay. I’ve ne’er seen her afore in me life.”



I figured he were jus’ cranky fer his shoes had been pinchin’ his feet.


******************************VM


*Stay tuned for PART THE FIFTH

TH' NOOSE AIN'T LOOSE: PART TH' THIRD

PART TH’ THIRD



Th’ sun peeked int’ me cabin just as I pinned me mob cap t’ me curls, smoothed me skirt and gave me bodice an extra tug fer good measure. Beltin’ me arasaid round me waist I hoisted me picnic larder and stepped off th’ ship a proper lady right down t’ me kerseymere drawers. Fer me husband’s sake I would travel as neither lad nor pirate this day.


It was t’ be a grand day at th’ Fort! Word had gone out t’ th’ pirate ships that I was ashore and freebooters o’ all manner, fine and cherished mates all, gathered t’ celebrate me return t’ polite society as well as me year an’ a day handfastin’ anniversary. A coterie o’ pirates turned out at th’ gate leavin’ cutlass and flintlock behind, garbed in an arrary o’ tartan plundered from unsuspectin’ Scots whilst they slumbered in th’ heather.


Now know ye, ye can get up a pirate in plaid but that don’t make him a Scot, so it were comical t’ note th’ looks on th’ faces o’ th’ British guard as we swaggered up, th’ tell-tale rollin’ gate left o’er from th’ ship’s deck still evident in our stride.


As th’ soldiers were about t’ discharge their duty and mayhap a round o’ fire as well I made mention t’ th’ cockiest of an affront t’ me flock th' e’en afore that had vexed me greatly. Th’ guilty look on his face bespoke o’ him being justly charged and made fer doubly good mirth as o’ yet I had ne’er seen a flock o’ ewes aboard a pirate ship. Ye might say th’ lad looked a bit….sheepish.
Arr! Arr! Arr!


They gave us trouble naught after that.


Lucky guess.


I entered th’ Fort wit’ th’ warm glow o’ bein’ reunited wit’ good friends, in particular me kindred mate and long-time partner in piratical crime, Captain Merlyn from th’ Lusty Avenger. It were good t’ hav’ a peacable length o’ time t’ spend in her company wit’out continually duckin’ cannon fire from an ongoin’ plunder. There were other treasured mates as well in our band o’ merry Scots and it gave me great pleasure t’ know I had such fine kith an’ kin.


Th’ banquet cloth were spread and victuals aplenty appeared . ‘Twere an exotic feast fit for a Pirate King and we dug in wit’ much merriment, huggin’ and kissin’ each other like th’ reunited mates we were.


‘Twere then that I took note o’ me husband showin’ off his battle skills wit’ a much larger Scot though appearin’ t’ hold his own, wieldin’ targe and broadsword like a master. A wee shiver o' proudness went through me.


“Good-day t’ ye, Husband!” calls I. “Me cot were right cold last e’en!” I taunted.


“And where were you?” he shot back a bit o’ a sour look on his face, givin’ his opponent an opportunity t’ score an’ unexpected hit.


“Worry not, mate!” calls Lord Talon, another o’ our own fine pirates. “Me thinks her cot were not as cold as she complains!”

This did bring uproarious laughter from the crew wit’ Merlyn nearly chokin’ on a hunk o' beefstick in her mirth!


“Aye! Good answer!” she shouted back. And it were then that she remembered how much she missed me.


“Aye, ‘tis a fine day indeed, us all together!” she spake and did lean t’ give me a sisterly kiss.


"Hear! Hear!” we all cried in unison and raised our tankards t' th' sky.
We all agreed heartily that there be no grander feelin’ than reunitin’ wit’ cherished mates.


I looked 'round our circle at the familiar faces I’d known and loved for many a year and felt at blissful peace.


I crammed a whole one o' Mad Peg's Irish potatoes in me gob and belched around it wit' satisfaction.


And then it got ugly.

**************************VM


*Stay tuned for PART THE FOURTH