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PART I
MARCH, 1780
ATLANTIC OCEAN, TRADE ROUTE
CELIA ATE HER FRIDAY nuncheon of shark steak without participating in the rousing discussion her mother and Judas were having concerning the Americans’ grievances with England. Celia had nothing to add, for she knew little of politics. She had a long history with and trusted the men she worked for, and, unlike the other privateers, her real reasons for participating in this little war had nothing to do with profit.
However, her mother was eminently studied in the intricacies of the American concerns, and Judas was equally studied concerning the British ones.
“What do you think, Ce—Jack?”
That was the third time Mary had nearly called her by her name. Fortunately, “see” and “Ce—” sounded exactly alike, and might not be taken as a slip of the tongue.
“Mama, you know I have no thought for it at all,” she said calmly, sitting back and sipping at her coffee.
“Come now, Fury,” Judas rumbled with a teasing smile. “Surely you have some thought else you’d not be spending your energies in this manner.”
She took a deep breath and looked at Judas. “Tell me, Sir. Do you know of any other woman who has the freedom I do?”
“Well, certainly, though it manifests differently.”
“Name one.”
She watched as he thought, his long finger tapping at his lips, lips that had awakened her in the most pleasurable of ways this morn. “A modiste,” he finally said. “A … certain countess I know but will not name.” He raised his eyebrows. “An actress. A courtesan.”
Mary choked on her coffee.
“A modiste,” Celia began, “is subject to the whimsies of her clientele, which is female, whose husbands control their pursestrings. One offense to one client or her husband, and she is suddenly without business. That assumes she also has no other investors in her business, no husband, no children, and all her suppliers are willing to sell her goods directly regardless of the fact that she is a woman.”
“You have the same problems.”
She smiled. “No. I do not. I do not have to sail. I choose to.”
“Ah, but wealth is a different matter. Wealthy women have more choices.”
Celia raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So a young heiress could marry for love? Any woman of wealth could travel the world alone?”
Judas’s smile dipped a bit. “I take your point, but then we come upon the courtesan.”
“Why do I doubt you know anything about the finances and independence of a courtesan, Captain?” Mary asked sweetly.
“Ma’am!” he protested with faux affront, his fingers splayed across his chest. “I am a man of the world!”
“Which is why you were in the Bloody Hound and not the Friars’ Club three blocks inland,” Celia said dryly, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.
He flashed her a grin. “I take it the Friars’ Club is a bit more exclusive.”
“Aye.”
“And how would you know of it, Madam?”
Her eyebrow rose. “Why, I am a woman of the world, Captain. That is where I go for my amusements.” His mouth dropped open and she grinned. “And when I am finished with my … amusements … I return to a ship I command. And I do not have to masquerade as a man to do so, unlike most women in history, including my bo’sun.”
“You—” He blinked. “Madam, if you have a taste for women, I pray you allow me to watch the next time you go for your amusements.”
She burst out laughing. “It happens that the Friars’ Club—as do several establishments of pleasure—are able to cater to my tastes, which do not include women.”
“And those are … ?”
Celia’s mother cleared her throat and, truly, Celia had no wish to parade her habits in front of her, as it would distress her. Celia arose abruptly and went to her door. “CROFTWOOD!” she bellowed. “PRESENT YOURSELF TO MY CABIN!”
“Aye, Cap’n!”
“My master carpenter,” Celia said as she seated herself, “is the fifth son of an English duke. A duke! Yet he is here, on my ship, and has been under my command since Skirrow hired me. Why is that? Because he has any independence of his own? Nay. He is four times removed from the heirdom.”
“How does that relate to a woman’s independence?”
“You called, Cap’n?”
Celia kicked at the chair next to her. “Aye. Sit. Eat. We are discussing the nature of independence and I would have your opinion.”
“Oh, aye. Thank you, Cap’n.” He sat next to her and helped himself to a plate and food.
“Don’t drink all my lemonade, Croftwood.”
He chuckled and poured himself a tankard of rum.
“Now,” Celia said, “tell Captain Judas about how much independence you, the son of English nobility, have, measured against that which the Americans seek from England.”
He curled his lip behind his tankard and grunted. “None to speak of,” he muttered. “I ran away to the sea to take what I could.”
“You studied at Cambridge?” Judas rumbled.
Croftwood nodded. “My accent gives me away, I suppose. I completed my course. Animal husbandry, of all things. My father wanted me to be his land steward. Good God, but I cannot think of a worse fate, except perhaps marrying that horse-faced heiress out in her third Season.”
“As I recall, you were about to do just that,” Celia said wryly.
“Aye, which is when I decamped from my grand tour in Italy onto the Carnivale. I’m not sure which was worse,” he mused, “but the Carnivale was bound to be less permanent than being leg-shackled to that.”
“So you have as little independence as a woman,” Judas said, flashing Celia a triumphant look.
“Oh, no, Sir,” Croftwood objected. “Women do not go on grand tours. Women do not go to university. Women do not sail, much less become navigators and captains.” He nodded at Celia. “I would sail under no one but her now, but if you had told me, when I was at school or with my chums bedding every woman in Naples, that I would, within two years’ time, choose to sail under the command of a woman, I would have called you out for the insult. ’Twas when I saw what she would do as compared to what other women are allowed to do that I realized perhaps women were no less capable than men. Perhaps some are not as strong, but some men are delicate, also. Even Officer Khan masqueraded as a male, and she is no coward. She just wanted for opportunity.”
“Aye, well, Muslim and Jewish women have even fewer choices than Christian ones,” Celia muttered, “so you were seeing the worst of it anyroad.”
“There is that. But American women! Lord, they’re feisty, but they still do not have the freedom Cap’n Jack and the other women here have. I dare say my horse-faced heiress would rather like this life and I might not mind her so much were she here.”
Celia cast Judas’s triumphant look right back at him, but he simply chuckled.
“Thus, to answer your original question,” Celia finally said, “one of my goals in this endeavor is to see that the Americans have an opportunity for independence, especially their women, who have a great deal more than English ones. I see them—collectively—as no different from an heiress bound to a husband, being his property as much as anything else she brings to the marriage. Or like Adrian here, bound to a name and a future by accident of birth. I want them to have the opportunity to be me. After that, they can sort out their difficulties themselves, the way anyone with newfound independence must do.”
She watched as Judas thought about that for a moment, then nodded his head slowly. “I’ve freed slaves who’ve returned directly to their masters,” he said slowly, “and so have become far more selective in which slaves I free.”
“I have taken a similar tack. Some men—some humans—are so broken they cannot bear freedom, although I do think some could be rebuilt and taught, if one were inclined to spend the time and care.” For some reason, that sparked a memory. “Croftwood, I have not had a chance to ask. Expound on that preposterous story you told me last week in the midst of taking the Lamplight.”
“Oh! Commander Elliott Raxham, righto.”
“Who?” Judas asked.
“Elliott Raxham, the second son of Earl Tavendish. Tried for high treason and acquitted.”
“Acquitted?” Judas drawled. “What brought the charge?”
Celia answered. “Croftwood tells me some nonsense about this British captain who fired on his own fleet.”
“Why would he do that?” Judas asked.
“Because the ship he fired on was preparing to fire on him first,” Croftwood answered. “Commander Raxham prevailed, but was tried for high treason over it, then acquitted.”
“You’re bamming me,” Judas drawled. “A British fleet turning on itself? To what end?”
Croftwood shrugged. “The event was all over the papers, and my father was absolutely livid.”
“At Raxham’s arrest or the fact that he wasn’t executed on the spot?”
Croftwood glanced up at Judas’s gruff question. “At Rear-Admiral Lord Kitteridge, whom everyone believed ordered Raxham to be fired upon.”
Celia was utterly confused. “Believed? They don’t know? Why would an admiral order a captain fire on his fleet commander?”
Adrian sighed and sat back in his chair for a moment, staring vacantly at the larboard bulkhead whilst he thought. “Lord Kitteridge,” he finally began, “is a cruel man, but he is close to the King and so through the years has done many grievous things in his service to the Crown.”
“Worse than Skirrow?
“I gather that,” Croftwood replied, once again attending his meal, “amongst the nobles, he is referred to as Vlad the Impaler.”
“God’s blood.” Even Dunham, not quite as superstitious as most seafarers, was known to cross himself at the mention of Tepes’s name.
He shrugged. “Every so often, Father would return home in a lather over whatever Kitteridge had done that time. But then there was the big one, some scandal that happened when I was still in short pants that involved one of my older brothers. Father thought for a certes that would be the scandal that sank him, but no. It did set several of the Navy’s officers against Kitteridge, who in turn nursed his own grudge against Raxham. Whatever it was, it was kept contained within the walls of Parliament and Kitteridge emerged not only unscathed, but promoted. My father knows what happened, as do the others in Parliament, but he has never spoken of it outside of the House of Lords. That was why he was so furious at Raxham’s arrest. He thought Kitteridge should have been drawn and quartered fifteen years ago.”
Judas snorted. Celia slid him a glance, but said nothing. She turned back to Croftwood. “If Parliament is unhappy with him, then why is he allowed to flourish?”
“Follow the money, Fury,” Judas intoned.
Croftwood was nodding and pointed at Judas. “Aye, just so. The amount of money he has contributed to the Treasury is substantial enough his disgraces are either covered, ignored, or dismissed. There are not enough ranking nobles in the House willing to censure him against his profitability.”
“This Kitteridge— What rank does he hold?”
“He’s a duke and some relation to the King.”
“Was it proven that Kitteridge ordered his own officer’s death?”
“I was just about to leave for the Continent when Commander Raxham was arrested, so I have little knowledge of what happened at trial. Father merely wrote that Raxham had been acquitted, but that it took two years and the best barristers and solicitors the earldom could purchase, which nearly bankrupted the estate. I do know that the commander was cashiered, along with his entire corps of officers. I have to assume there were equal measures of politics afoot on both sides to keep it going so long and for the Raxhams to ultimately prevail.”
Celia pursed her lips, suddenly grateful for the utter simplicity of pirate life. All she had to worry about was life and death, with no governmental machinations getting in her way.
“Were his officers tried for treason, too?”
“Nay. Father told me they were cashiered for testifying on Raxham’s behalf under suspicion of perjury.”
Celia groaned. “And Papa wonders why I sail for the Americans.”
“What happened to Kitteridge?” Judas muttered around his food.
“Father wrote that he was promoted. Again. And should I ever find myself in need of passage home, to take any ship but one commanded by him.”
Celia barked a laugh. “And so you took Skirrow’s.”
Croftwood grinned.
“What is Commander Raxham— His name again—?”
“Elliott,” Judas supplied.
“Elliott—I like that. What is he doing now?”
“I don’t know, but I would assume he went back to Northumberland properly chastened and is permanently rusticating. It was rumored, though, that the two years he spent in Newgate drove him mad.”
“Of course he’s mad. God’s teeth, I was set to chew my way out of the hold after two weeks. If he is not mad, I would deem him the strongest of souls.” Celia snorted. “Well, at least he’s the second son. English aristocracy. Entails. Primogeniture. Forfeiture. Class privilege. Saying nothing of merit or disposition. ’Tis an abomination.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Judas nodding fervent agreement.
“Or sanity,” Celia mumbled as she took another bite. “Because God help a house with a prison-mad earl at the head of it.”
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
I see Elliot as Jane from Firefly in this bit. “Who’s this Elliot guy? Me? That’s crazy talk.”
😂
More dialogue than a Tarantino flick…. 🫣🤣
“I don’t want to be Mr. Pink”.
“Because you’re a faggot, alright?!”
😎
Okay, I’ll be serious about this for a minute. I FLUV dialogue. I grew up listening to people talking, transcribing what they said, and inventing ways to punctuate what they said to convey HOW they said it. Then, when I wasn’t doing that anymore, I started eavesdropping on people. Then I went back to transcription. I love listening to people talk. It may not be interesting, but I like hearing the rhythm and pitch of natural speech.
I always suspected (heard?) that writing dialog was harder than not-dialog.
I dunno. It’s my favorite part.
🤘🏻
Love dialog.
Mo: word. I’m w Carlin about words having a jazzy punch, or jazzy is good w comedy, but concise phrasing has its place. (And all grooves in between.)
How the hell did I lose my Firestick remote? I just had that fucker. 🤬
The Little Bastards are sneaky
Amusing to be challenging Judas’ sanity when he questioned hers over her tactical approach to breaching the blockade.
Oh wait till she gives him pirate lessons. Heh.
I’ll be your pirate dancer, a dancer for money, I’ll do what you want me to do?
I’ll be your pirate dancer, a dancer for money
Any sea shanty will do
So are either of them operating under American letters of marque?
She is.
He is not. Yet. He’s on a mission of revenge and redress, which at this point, he has accomplished.
She has previously reminded him that she would be treated as a prisoner of war, but he would not.
Trump vs the Governor of Maine:
https://x.com/elonmusk/status/1893043822600323583/mediaViewer?currentTweet=1893043822600323583¤tTweetUser=elonmusk
That link probably won’t work.
Here’s one that probably will:
https://x.com/elonmusk/status/1893043822600323583?s=42
Yeah, the first link gave me some sketchy shit. How does Elon know an email I don’t use when I don’t even have an account there?
That. Was. Fucking. Stellar.
Damn.
lol You’ll outgrow such notions in a couple hundred years, hon.
😂😂😂
Rudyard Kipling has introduced me to some fine words. Gorse, for one.
This passage, though, I’m having some difficulty parsing.
This was referenced in one of the latter Flashman novels, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it.
…………………what I had intended to reference
Flashman cues this as his personal lesson: entrapping the alien at the proper time
I’m having difficulty understanding why it appertains. I don’t understand the reference in the novella, either. I don’t understand the reference and I don’t get why it was referenced in the Flashman novel
I get the phrasing, but never having read the books, I got no idea how that emotional emptiness would help.
It’s better than screaming out your hand and killing any chance if bluff, or just to remain hidden. Secret.
I don’t get the phrasing! Evan, if you can shed some light on what’s the intention
and again, mind you, the Rutyard Kipling portion of this mystery
Give me a far-fetched theatrical movie, evan, any of these days
What piece are you reading? I googled the phrase, but it’s coming up cited in criticisms. I’ve googled Flashman, but getting a different author. Maybe I’m not googling right. My google-fu is not strong.
” the lesson of their race, which is to put away all emotion and entrap the alien at the proper time” is the exact expression quoted from Flashman as rendered in my beloved Flashman novel (novella, actually, because it’s one of the last stories of the Flashman series) and that’s how it’s written in the book. I read it myself. I enjoyed the Kipling novella! I’m going to read the rest of their adventures, Stalk and Co. But I want to know what was meant by “The lesson of their race” etc.!
Whose race is being talked about?
Just a guess, but “the lesson of the English race” might be that invaders are always about to invade, kill the men, and take the women as wives, because that is what happened in successive generations (at least, in the English myths). The Celts were supplanted by the Saxons, who were invaded by the Danes, and later conquered by the Normans. The lesson from all that is that aliens are interlopers, and are not jolly, as a rule.
Did anyone talk about the new executive order Trump issued that basically said the bureaucracy is to get rid of all unconstitutional regulations that haven’t been explicitly ordered by congress?
The actual text: “It is the policy of my Administration to focus the executive branch’s limited enforcement resources on regulations squarely authorized by constitutional Federal statutes, and to commence the deconstruction of the overbearing and burdensome administrative state.”
Stalky and co
“In Ambush” was the novella I read
Enjoyable
Well since I’m wasted and blowing my load all over this thread
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency
It’s an oddball novel at first. You wonder why you’re wrist-deep into Coleridge, but eventually you’re succored into the Douglas Adams universe. You didn’t read the Hitchhiker’s Guide because you weren’t a teenager in the 80s or 90s, so you iognored Adams. He was kindof a joke anyway, Monty Python-esque… BUt now I’m telling you: you were mistaken. And Dirk Gently is good fun.
Not so much the TV series. Read the novels.
The villain (I’ll allow myself a sort of spoiler here) is a villain.
He’s a contemporary of the other characters.
You know the Coleridge poem? The one everone knows? You can recite it from memory sure. “In In Xanadu did Kubla Khan” etc etc.
Well, the whole novel is about the premise of what if that poem was recited by an ancient alien slug? with a time machine? shit, I don’t remember
I love Dirk Gently, though.
He is, in fact, properly villainous. Kinda horrifying, actually. You’d actually need to read the novel to realize whjat a villain he is. Almost passes himself off, then–
WHERE ALL YOU ARE?!
We’re in the sober room.
Lame.
Morning all.
We are missing a natural born Glibertarian. Elon’s son Little X.
The Resolute Desk. It is Resolute. Serious stuff happens there. Much reverence is commanded. Wait, that kid just wiped a booger on it! The ultimate act of mocking irreverence. That puts things into perspective, doesnt it. I love it. We need to send that kid a red carpet invitation.
Or, you could be reading it wrong and he’s of the Barry O school of utter disrespect for historical artefacts.
Or, he could just be a shot-nosed child in need of more life lessons on how not to be a little shit.
Nah, irreverence is very different from contempt. I am not wrong.
No, Irreverence is the road to contempt.
Morning, Glibs.
Sean is very late.
Someone else was here first this morning.
I was doing naked things.
#overshare
I hope you haven’t wound up on a registry.
Magic potions. That is all I see on TV. The water from the fountain of youth ad just followed by magical weight loss pills. No work, no effort, no discipline required, just pay up and you can be smarter, younger, sexier…..
“My” doctor won’t accept any of my phone calls, says I’m a pest and shouldn’t watch so much Fox TV.
How else can I keep up on the elder health news>
Could you use $5,000? Would you like $5,000? Are you feeling like you just couldn’t get through the week without $5,000?
Well look no further: Uncle DonJon has just the brew….Elixir47! Since he made Mexico build the wall, installed all those bountiful tariffs, and redesigned government, we have a surplus of $1.5T !!!!1!!! That’s right, kids, Uncle DonJon has studied in the hospitals of France and explored the far reaches of Honduran folk budgeting….to say nothing of his recent post-graduate work in Sud Afrikaan Aspbergian Management Principles….and now you can benefit from all his studies and practice! You’ll get your $5,000 any day now with a host of side benefits. Just lay back and enjoy as Uncle DonJon’s special blend of herbs and spices fills up your checking account…………no torturous exercise, self-discipline, thinking, or effort required at all. Your skin will feel firmer! Your locks will curl cuter! You’ll have all the lead in your pencil you need to do what a man needs to do!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!!!
** fine print: Uncle DonJon’s Elixir47 has not been tested in any real economic situation. Elixir45 has been shown to cause record deficits. Stop using Uncle DonJon’s Elixir47 if you are allergic to it, your children start receiving special dispensation from oil sheiks, if every other thing you start saying is a lie, if all your wives disappear, or if you build a casino, real estate school, or postal beef dispensary that lasts for only four hours. **
Morning Glibs & Glibettes!
🎩😄☕
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=202fjZZO-tI
🎶🎶
Morning.
Not sure when they’ll let me in the building, but I’m headed to class soon.
It’s only about 10 minutes drive according to the internet, so I’ll give it fifteen to half an hour.
Class?
Yeah, that stupid pre-permit safety class.
I could probably pass the written test as it stands, but I need the paper to file with the rest of this nonsense.
Good luck! Write up the experience!
Still can’t find that damn remote. I wasn’t even drinking yet when I lost it.
Have you checked with the cat?
Well, Sean, this is an indicator of aging and it only gets worse. At least it wasn’t your car, yet.
No cat here.
I can lose my car?!?! 😳🫢
My phone tells me where I parked.
But you can lose your phone.
😵💫😱
Morning! The waitresses are off their game and the coffee refill rhythm is out of sync.
Good morning, NA, Sean, U, 4(20), Suthen, Ted’S , and Teh Hype!
Have you asked to speak with the manager?
Well Bondi has supposedly said she’s going to release the Epstein files. You tell em, does this sound like the old “any day now, swearsies” song and dance to you, or is it just me?:
“I was briefed on that yesterday. I can’t talk about that publicly, but President Trump has given a very strong directive, and that’s going to be followed,” Bondi said. “A lot of documents.”
When Johnson pressed her on whether Americans could expect real action rather than empty promises, Bondi was firm.
“Donald Trump doesn’t make empty promises,” she said. “Promises made, promises kept, and that’s why we’re all there—to carry out his directive about making America safe and prosperous.”
“I locked up the files last night, I swear! But, the safe was open and empty this morning. We are investigating.”
I played https://squaredle.com/xp 02/22:
*23/23 words (+7 bonus words)
📖 In the top 3% by bonus
I played https://squaredle.com 02/22:
*65/65 words (+36 bonus words)
📖 In the top 1% by bonus words
🔥 Solve streak: 597
https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2025/02/ice-raids-texas-bakery-8-illegal-aliens-arrested/
And the owners charged. GOOD.