Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Ginger Beer
Spring in Charleston was beautiful, if humid, and not yet so warm as to make folks miserable. There was no shortage of parasols and paper fans in motion and nothing beat the heat like a refreshing ginger beer!
Kennia joined the Captain and Tira at a corner table towards the back of the main room of the saloon. “Hey, y’all. I got your message? Or are we mostly here to drink beer? They serve a mighty refreshin’ ginger beer here but that is about all this place has goin’ for it.”
“Have a seat” answered the Captain and gestured to the empty chair on his right.
“This place has somethin’ else goin’ for it” said Tira. “It is quiet and we won’t be disturbed.”
“Have a beer and let’s get to business” said the Captain.
“Then we can get to the drinkin’ part of the evenin’. I’ve got news from headquarters and it ain’t good.”
Kennia groaned. “Not more rumor and innuendo is it? I want to hear somethin’ concrete for once or I am outa here. She made no move to rise from her seat though.
“Just sit still and listen then. Remember a couple of months ago when we were up in the mountains and we acquired a passenger as well as a courier pouch?”
Both Kennia and Tira nodded. Who could forget whiny, smelly Ole Toby?
“Well headquarters has put two and two together and finally come-up with four. There is some kinda illegal mining operation goin’ on. That’s why they were after the latest geological surveys that were in that courier pouch. We don’t know who is doin’ the mining or how and why they picked these mountains but we need to investigate.”
*******************************
Mike stepped up to the bar, “Just my usual, thanks.” He leaned against it and gave the room a thorough looking-over. Seeing a few of his mates at a back table, he grabbed his beer, ambled over and pulled up a chair.
“Whatcha doin’ fellas? And lady?” he added as he noticed Tira. “Fancy meetin’ you here, Miss Tira.
Tira smiled in response, “Oh, I do like to step-out once in a while. And this was just too fine an evening to spend sittin’ at home.”
“What are you drinkin’ this fine evening, ma’am?”
“Oh, just a ginger beer. Nothin’ too strong.”
“And may I buy you a fresh one?” inquired Mike.
“You certainly may, sir.”
During this exchange Captain Willie nudged Kennia. “See? What did I tell ya? She definitely likes him” he hissed.
Kennia just rolled her eyes. “You and your match-making! You used to try and match me up with fellas as well, remember?”
“That’s different.”
“No it ain’t! You’ve just got Noah’s Ark syndrome. Think everybody has to go two by two” she hissed back at him.
At this point Mike retured with a fresh ginger beer which he proceeded to ope and pour into a glass.
“Thank you, Mike. You are truely a gentleman” beamed Tira.
Kennia joined the Captain and Tira at a corner table towards the back of the main room of the saloon. “Hey, y’all. I got your message? Or are we mostly here to drink beer? They serve a mighty refreshin’ ginger beer here but that is about all this place has goin’ for it.”
“Have a seat” answered the Captain and gestured to the empty chair on his right.
“This place has somethin’ else goin’ for it” said Tira. “It is quiet and we won’t be disturbed.”
“Have a beer and let’s get to business” said the Captain.
“Then we can get to the drinkin’ part of the evenin’. I’ve got news from headquarters and it ain’t good.”
Kennia groaned. “Not more rumor and innuendo is it? I want to hear somethin’ concrete for once or I am outa here. She made no move to rise from her seat though.
“Just sit still and listen then. Remember a couple of months ago when we were up in the mountains and we acquired a passenger as well as a courier pouch?”
Both Kennia and Tira nodded. Who could forget whiny, smelly Ole Toby?
“Well headquarters has put two and two together and finally come-up with four. There is some kinda illegal mining operation goin’ on. That’s why they were after the latest geological surveys that were in that courier pouch. We don’t know who is doin’ the mining or how and why they picked these mountains but we need to investigate.”
*******************************
Mike stepped up to the bar, “Just my usual, thanks.” He leaned against it and gave the room a thorough looking-over. Seeing a few of his mates at a back table, he grabbed his beer, ambled over and pulled up a chair.
“Whatcha doin’ fellas? And lady?” he added as he noticed Tira. “Fancy meetin’ you here, Miss Tira.
Tira smiled in response, “Oh, I do like to step-out once in a while. And this was just too fine an evening to spend sittin’ at home.”
“What are you drinkin’ this fine evening, ma’am?”
“Oh, just a ginger beer. Nothin’ too strong.”
“And may I buy you a fresh one?” inquired Mike.
“You certainly may, sir.”
During this exchange Captain Willie nudged Kennia. “See? What did I tell ya? She definitely likes him” he hissed.
Kennia just rolled her eyes. “You and your match-making! You used to try and match me up with fellas as well, remember?”
“That’s different.”
“No it ain’t! You’ve just got Noah’s Ark syndrome. Think everybody has to go two by two” she hissed back at him.
At this point Mike retured with a fresh ginger beer which he proceeded to ope and pour into a glass.
“Thank you, Mike. You are truely a gentleman” beamed Tira.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
The State of Muskogee
existed for only a few years from 1799-1803 in an area in what is now known as Florida.
It was an American Indian nation formed by Seminoles and lower Chattahoochee Creeks along with runaway slaves, white pirates and Spanish deserters. Its founder, William Augustus Bowles (also known as Estajoca, his Muscogee or Creek name), had a vision of the state growing to include the Cherokee, Upper and Lower Creeks, Choctaw and Chickasaw. Unfortunately, the Treaty of Amiens in March 1802 led to peace between the British, Spanish and French, allowing them to concentrate on crushing The State of Muskogee.
It was an American Indian nation formed by Seminoles and lower Chattahoochee Creeks along with runaway slaves, white pirates and Spanish deserters. Its founder, William Augustus Bowles (also known as Estajoca, his Muscogee or Creek name), had a vision of the state growing to include the Cherokee, Upper and Lower Creeks, Choctaw and Chickasaw. Unfortunately, the Treaty of Amiens in March 1802 led to peace between the British, Spanish and French, allowing them to concentrate on crushing The State of Muskogee.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Up to No Good
Hans reflected as he rode along the trail. This mission was proving more and more not to be the mission that he had signed-on for. Or thought that he was signing-on for. As if that made any difference. He was increasingly tempted to just ride west and simply keep going as long as his horse was willing to carry him. The problem was that he had nowhere to go and the horse he was riding, its tack, and even much of his gear technically did not belong to him. And stealing just somehow did not seem to be a good start to making a new life. Besides, this mission to the Blue Ridge mountains was supposed to be a fresh start for him and look at how it was turning-out!
***********************
Back at the Trading Post the usual gang was sitting around the pot-bellied stove, smoking their pipes and drinking coffee from the pot bubbling on the stove-top.
“How ‘bout that foreign feller? What was his name now? Hank? Hinky?”
“Naw, it was Hunky, I’m sure of it.”
“Now you know that ain’t no name, not even for a foreign feller!” The others laughed.
“Are y’all sure now? I coulda sworn it was Hanky or Hunky or sumpthin’ like that.”
“Naw, it was Hans,” said the Trading Post owner from behind the counter. “I’m sure of it.”
“Whatever. He sure is doin’ a powerful lotta bakin’ though!” They all laughed raucously at that comment.
“Wonder how long it’ll take him to figure-out that we’re on to him. He sure ain’t no farmer, ain’t no family man and sure as hell ain’t up to no good.”
“Hell we ain’t up to no good neither!” The old-timers all guffawed at that.
******************************************
The courier, Mad Man Mike, had earned his nickname fair and square due to his propensity for setting-off on a straight course at top speed and not letting anything hinder him from reaching his destination. Not rivers, not forests and certainly not brick walls were sufficient to slow his progress. Mad Man Mike was the courier the head office called upon for their most urgent, top-secret deliveries. Unfortunately, this meant that he was a regular visitor to the local hospital since he not infrequently developed a few bumps, bruises and other more serious injuries as he went on his way.
***********************
Back at the Trading Post the usual gang was sitting around the pot-bellied stove, smoking their pipes and drinking coffee from the pot bubbling on the stove-top.
“How ‘bout that foreign feller? What was his name now? Hank? Hinky?”
“Naw, it was Hunky, I’m sure of it.”
“Now you know that ain’t no name, not even for a foreign feller!” The others laughed.
“Are y’all sure now? I coulda sworn it was Hanky or Hunky or sumpthin’ like that.”
“Naw, it was Hans,” said the Trading Post owner from behind the counter. “I’m sure of it.”
“Whatever. He sure is doin’ a powerful lotta bakin’ though!” They all laughed raucously at that comment.
“Wonder how long it’ll take him to figure-out that we’re on to him. He sure ain’t no farmer, ain’t no family man and sure as hell ain’t up to no good.”
“Hell we ain’t up to no good neither!” The old-timers all guffawed at that.
******************************************
The courier, Mad Man Mike, had earned his nickname fair and square due to his propensity for setting-off on a straight course at top speed and not letting anything hinder him from reaching his destination. Not rivers, not forests and certainly not brick walls were sufficient to slow his progress. Mad Man Mike was the courier the head office called upon for their most urgent, top-secret deliveries. Unfortunately, this meant that he was a regular visitor to the local hospital since he not infrequently developed a few bumps, bruises and other more serious injuries as he went on his way.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Friday, February 28, 2014
Coffee or not coffee, that is the question
Hans couldn’t resist a rueful smile as he headed towards the tent that served the project master as both residence and office. It was heated by a small camp stove that usually had a pot of coffee cooking on its top. A cup of hot coffee struck Hans as a mighty good idea!
The spring day was a bit chill due to the mountain breeze and Hans was not surprised to see his superior’s tent flap was tightly closed. The three log cabins clustered nearby were much warmer inside but this was partly due to them being overly full of people. The engineer insisted that he could not work under such crowded conditions. And that was understandable, Hans admitted to himself. Most of the crew were an uncouth lot and none of them had bathed properly in months, if ever. The combine odour of sweat, cheap whiskey and tobacco was enough to make a man gag. Add in the belching and farting caused by a diet heavy on tinned beans and the atmosphere was positively explosive!
Since there was no proper door upon which to knock, Hans stood outside the canvas flap that served as a door and spoke loudly to announce his presence.
“Sir? May I come in?”
There was no distinct response but Hans chose to interpret the muffled noise that came from inside the tent as assent and pushed aside the tent flap.
“Sir!” Hans greeted his superior. “We could use some of the men to plant crops. I know that they are miners, not farmers, but surely they could put their hands to the job. It would help keep up appearances and also give them something to do besides quarrel amongst themselves. And we could use the extra food.”
“Controlling the men, it is your job. Do what you must. If you need more food then purchase it!”
Hans replied patiently, “The man at the Trading Post is getting more and more suspicious about the amount of supplies I am buying. Soon he will stop believing that I am buying for a small group of farmers altogether.”
“Do not trouble me with your petty problems! I have my own concerns.”
“Is there a problem with the geological survey, sir?”
“There is copper in this rock! I know that there is. Many veins of it in fact. Why cannot vi find it?”
“Perhaps the geological survey records are faulty? Or just plain mistaken?”
“Or maybe it is your men who are stupid! They are too stupid to find the veins of the copper in the rocks.”
Hans glanced wistfully over at the coffee pot. He would really have preferred to discuss the matter over a steaming mug but that didn’t seem to be happening.
The spring day was a bit chill due to the mountain breeze and Hans was not surprised to see his superior’s tent flap was tightly closed. The three log cabins clustered nearby were much warmer inside but this was partly due to them being overly full of people. The engineer insisted that he could not work under such crowded conditions. And that was understandable, Hans admitted to himself. Most of the crew were an uncouth lot and none of them had bathed properly in months, if ever. The combine odour of sweat, cheap whiskey and tobacco was enough to make a man gag. Add in the belching and farting caused by a diet heavy on tinned beans and the atmosphere was positively explosive!
Since there was no proper door upon which to knock, Hans stood outside the canvas flap that served as a door and spoke loudly to announce his presence.
“Sir? May I come in?”
There was no distinct response but Hans chose to interpret the muffled noise that came from inside the tent as assent and pushed aside the tent flap.
“Sir!” Hans greeted his superior. “We could use some of the men to plant crops. I know that they are miners, not farmers, but surely they could put their hands to the job. It would help keep up appearances and also give them something to do besides quarrel amongst themselves. And we could use the extra food.”
“Controlling the men, it is your job. Do what you must. If you need more food then purchase it!”
Hans replied patiently, “The man at the Trading Post is getting more and more suspicious about the amount of supplies I am buying. Soon he will stop believing that I am buying for a small group of farmers altogether.”
“Do not trouble me with your petty problems! I have my own concerns.”
“Is there a problem with the geological survey, sir?”
“There is copper in this rock! I know that there is. Many veins of it in fact. Why cannot vi find it?”
“Perhaps the geological survey records are faulty? Or just plain mistaken?”
“Or maybe it is your men who are stupid! They are too stupid to find the veins of the copper in the rocks.”
Hans glanced wistfully over at the coffee pot. He would really have preferred to discuss the matter over a steaming mug but that didn’t seem to be happening.
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