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Local Time: Jul 19 2018, 07:40 AM
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Jul 3 2018, 01:00 AM
Lord Magistrate, William Forrester
It had been unfortunate to see a skilled servant go. The Lord Magistrate had begrudgingly sent his daughter’s maid on retirement after years of faithful service to his family. Granted, the woman was getting old, but from a purely selfish perspective, her ability to be an efficient maid while also a confidant of the family and his daughter’s trust was something that he figured wouldn’t be easily replaced. That had been why it was hard to see her go. Her future life or plans of retirement didn’t really concern him. What did concern the Lord Magistrate was to quickly find a replacement so that Victoria would not be lacking a maid any longer than she had to. It wasn’t just any odd servant that he would allow in his daughter’s presence and certainly not to help out with delicate tasks or let them near the family valuables.
Fortunately though, through the network of his fellow Kingston nobles, Lord William was able to produce a list of names of people who might be suitable, and available, to take over where the old one had left. He had already spoken with two who had seemed as dull as they were poor, and as untalented as the were dull. While they had come recommended, the Lord Magistrate was a hard man to please and Jamaica had slim pickings in new labour compared to England or some of the larger nations around the world.
The next on the list was a younger woman, came with recommendations, and seemed to have travelled herself, a trait which might imply her resilience to changing situations. The Lord sat by his desk when the head butler came in an announced the arrival of the potential new maid. “Fine send her in,
” he said as he skimmed the details once more. He looked up at the young woman who was shown in and leaned back in his chair. So far, the first impressions were good. She was an attractive young woman who wouldn’t look like an ill attachment to his daughter and if the job would be hers, the two would likely spend much time together. “Have a seat,
” he told the girl and gestured at a chair opposite the desk. “So you want to be my daughters handmaid? Tell me, in a few words why you consider yourself suitable for the job,
” he said knowing fully well that no matter what she said now, the really deciding factor would be when it was tested if she had any sort of chemistry with his daughter.
This post has been written by MASCHA
May 9 2018, 07:45 PM
pirate master's mateCurrent Location:
Olive-skinned, black-haired, with dark eyes, thin, muscled. He is of average height and he has only a few traits showing his mixed blood.Personality: History:
Born in the port of Campeche, New Spain, son of a cartographer and his local mistress. The woman died when giving birth to a second child, and Nardo was raised by a slave. He was sent to school and, when not studying, he was helping his father in his office. But the sailing masters and ship captains who came in the office, talking about Spain and Manila and other places, made him to wish for more. With his connections, the man succeeded to send his son to sea at the age of taking a proper apprenticeship. He got to be a master's mate aboard "San Alfonso", one of the treasure ships in the convoy sent to Spain in March 1720.
The ship was captured by the pirates, and Nardo joined Sol Picador's crew. After the losing of the Rising Sun
and the battle with the two Navy flagships, leading to sinking all the ships, Nardo had been among the ones captured by Le Phenix
. He got saved in the last minute from the capsizing ship, together with Baptiste and Marc Lafont, and they got washed up on Bequia, an islet in the Grenadines. Finally saved by a ship, they returned to Tortuga.Anything else:
brought by Elena for the Spanish treasure plot and other plots
Mar 23 2018, 07:55 PM
GORDON HARRIOTT, banker
Date: 6-th of August 1720, in the morning
Place: Kingston, Jamaica, in the bank
Gordon was not in a too good mood today. Yesterday a ship arrived from Liverpool, and the newspapers which were delivered to him were bringing worrisome news. The Parliament of Great Britain had passed on 11 June 1720 an act
that incorporated the Royal Exchange and London Assurance Corporation, but more significantly forbade the formation of any other joint-stock companies unless approved by royal charter. Anyone with a good investment head – and Gordon Harriott definitely had one – could see that it aimed at preventing other companies from competing with the South Sea Company for investors' capital, given that lately a large number of other joint-stock companies had been created. Some of them made extravagant or fraudulent claims about foreign or other ventures or bizarre schemes, while others represented potentially sound, although novel, schemes, such as shipping insurance. But who could discerne between the two cases?
The passing of the Act gave a boost to the South Sea Company, its shares leaping to £890 in early June, when the latest newspapers were dated. This peak had encouraged people to start to sell, propping the price up at around £750. Gordon didn't see it as a sound long-term policy, especially if corroborrating this new current of thought with the bad news from France, where the Mississippi Company des Indes
had just sold their stocks, and there were signs foretelling a likely stock market crash.
He would definitely not accept anymore French paper money, not for exchange, not for any other business, he decided after folding the last newspaper. All the ships and persons coming with French currency in Kingston were going to be served, from now on, only if they had jingling coins. Otherwise, he'd go with his bank the way of other banks in France… not that the English ones seemed to be too far from that either."Mr. Harriott, the man who had set an appointment with you has arrived. A certain farmer, Mr. Redman,"
his apprentice said, opening the door to his office."Send him in!"
He waited for the man, wondering if he was there to make a deposit or to request a loan. There were too many little farmers and artisans requesting loans, after the devastating hurricane of last autumn.
@Sherryl This post has been written by ELENA
Mar 21 2018, 09:01 PM
AMANDA KOLEMANS, widow
Date: 18-th of August, 1720, late evening
Place: Basse Terre, Tortuga
Since two days ago, when Maribel returned with bad news about all the ships they cared about, Amanda was restless. She had cried, first, imaginging the worst. Then, as Maribel and Honey scolded her, telling her about the shipwrecks their men had survived, and that she needed to pray and hope, not to consider herself a second time widow already, the tears were wiped, in fear not to be the ones to call for the misfortune. But she couldn't rein in completely the apocalyptic thoughts. Hope and despair succeeded in her thinking. She had tried to cook, she burnt the food and came to the inn to eat…
Amanda hadn't been accustomed to being a seafarer's woman for long. While the others had been accustomed to wait patiently, hope, fear and pray for their loved ones gone to sea, for her it had happened merely for two expeditions – the unluckiest ones, unfortunately. She was new at this, and not in the right mindset, given that only six or seven months had passed since she became a widow.
The next day, a newspaper
had been brought to Basse Terre by some fishermen who were in cahoots with the pirates and understood that the news the gazette sellers shouted had to be known on the other side of the strait too. Captain Johnson "the Devil" was as widely known in Basse Terre as was Sol Picador, both of them having been here for several years, with noteworthy exploits, so by now most taverns buzzed with the news. The villains who had stolen the "Rising Sun"
were also known, even if with a different reputation. People talked about the events, wondering what losing three important ships at once could mean, and how the French would want to avenge the loss of their flagship.
Today, rumour arrived to her ears (and to the other worrying women's) that there were even some bets in seedy taverns, who survived the battle and who didn't. While she hadn't heard Pieter's name being mentioned explicitly in that context, it didn't mean it might not have been. This contributed to her worsening mood. She hadn't succeeded to do anything properly all day. Now that the evening was falling, she had a feeling neither tonight she'd succeed to sleep properly. She lighted the lamp and tried to read something again. Not that she'd remember anything…
This post has been written by ELENA
Mar 4 2018, 12:53 AM
GREG MESHCHERYAKOV & JACOB ASHCROFT Date: 30-th of August 1720, in the morning
Place:Basse Terre, Tortuga, in Manuel Halevi's newly bought shop
- continued from here
They finally had something to do. The building had been bought and it needed a thorough cleaning and renovation before being turned into the appropriate workshop of a jeweller. And there were two young men ready to actually do it, under Manuel's direction. Jacob had swept the floor, and now he had got a bucket and two wet rags, meant for them to wash not only the floor – that would come afterwards – but first to wash the walls of the existing paint in order to be repainted the next days."Catch!"
Jacob said to Greg, throwing him the rag, as the man had asked him to.
As he had spoken right after throwing it, the sailor caught it… with his face. Jacob now expected to be scolded, eventually beaten. But Greg did neither. He just started laughing. "You should improve your aim. It can be seen that you have no markmanship training either,"
he teased Jacob, taking the rag off and starting to wash the wall. "As a punishment, you'll be the one to pour me water tonight when finishing the day's work."
Jacob smiled, these words making things clear that no actual retaliation would follow. He would have poured water to the other two men anyway…
@Mimi This post has been written by ELENA