Yes, my dears, I know that it's been awhile since I brought you all up to 
date on the trivial pursuits of our Dauntless Adventurers.  But now that 
we've finally reached a port where some of the natives speak English and the 
head official actually possesses a primitive wireless apparatus, I've been 
enabled to send the following details of our recent debacle...umm, exciting 
epic that we MEANT to turn out that way.

It all began a couple of weeks ago.  Rowan and I were helping Tim to arrange 
the decor of his new digs...

Dix [spreading a lovely hand-crocheted antimacassar over the back of Tim's 
new plum-coloured divan:]  "What do you think?  Too ante-bellum?"

Tim: "No, just right.  Hand me a couple of rivets, will you?  This chandelier 
is heavier than it looks..."

Rowan: "Simply too ostentatious for words.  Do you really NEED a chandelier 
here in the salon?"

Tim: "It's not mine, it belonged to the former owner.  When I suggested that 
I could make do quite nicely with indirect lighting, he told me the story of 
The Curse."

Dix [refilling three glasses from the pitcher of mai-tais on the coffee 
table:]  "Well, don't stop there,--let's have the details."

Rowan [sitting down in the matching plush reclining chair and closing his 
eyes:] "Let's not."

Tim: "He said that the chandelier was originally from Marie Antoinette's 
boudoir and was the only bit of her personal property that was left undamaged 
by the sans-culottes when they overran the palace.  It seems that everyone 
who tried to touch it, with a club or a farm implement, immediately died a 
horrible death."

Dix: "And so naturally you're touching it right now."

Rowan [opening his eyes in anticipation:] "Do go on. I perceive possibilities 
here.  And why is Baldrick never around when I want him,--which is so seldom 
that it almost qualifies as 'absolutely never under any circumstances'."

Tim: "The former owner said that the chandelier could tell if the hands laid 
upon it were friendly or not...of course, the former owner also said that he 
crossed his heart and hoped to die, and at the moment he's in intensive care 
in the Cardiac Emergency Unit over at St. Spineless Medical Center."

Dix [taking a good long sip of her mai tai:] "Oh, well.  Not every sea-going 
yacht can boast of a crystal chandelier.  I think it was so clever of you to 
spread the word that you were buying a new house and instead shifting your 
base of operations to this huge boat."

Tim:  "I like to keep a few steps ahead of the mass media."

Rowan: "And it doesn't have a gigantic massive great garden that sucks up 
money like a gigantic etc. sucking thing.  That's a point in its favour."

Dix: "I like the name of it too:  the Wildwind Princess."

Rowan: "From the size of this floating extravaganza it might better be called 
the Galloping Palace.  Another thing; we can easily acquire all the sea food 
we might wish for."

Tim: "That reminds me; Baldrick went on deck awhile ago to do a bit of 
deep-sea fishing and he asked if he could take Frank along.  I wonder how 
they're doing."

Tim, Dix and Rowan make their way along walnut-paneled corridors, past the 
large galley and the sixteen passenger cabins, up the gangway and stroll aft 
on deck.  A small unkempt troll-like shape is sitting among the coils of rope 
near the brass railings, holding onto one end of the anchor chain...

Tim: "Baldrick,- (choking slightly as the wind changes and he gets an 
accidental whiff of Baldrick's indescribable effluvia)-- have you caught 
anything yet?"

Baldrick: "I almost caught a great big jelly-looking thing what had long 
slimy texticles and a evil-looking look in its eyes."

Dix [to Rowan:] "You can correct his grammar, if you think it's worth it."

Rowan: "We won't go into it just now.  Balders, where is Frank?"

Baldrick looks over the side of the boat and smiles shyly.

Tim rushes over and sees that Frank is tied to the chain and swimming around 
in circles.  He looks terminally annoyed.

Tim hastily drags Frank up onto the deck; Frank thanks him by shaking water 
all over him then stalks away, furious, without deigning to look back.

Rowan [picking Baldrick up by the neck and shaking him in time to his words:] 
 "Next time, do   NOT   use   the   DOG   for   BAIT!!"

    *                *                *

A few moments later our friends are relaxing in the salon and nibbling on a 
tray of assorted hor d'oeuvres to keep up their strength.  Frank, now dry and 
fluffy, is maintaining an icy distance from everyone while cunning plots are 
being plotted in his furry head.

Tim [munching a shrimp roll-up:]  "What's that book you're reading, Dix?"

Dix [looking up from an engrossing page:] "'A General History of the 
Robberies & Murders of the Most Notorious Pirates,' by Captain Charles 
Johnson.  It's a new reprint edition.  The original was published in 1724 and 
is the primary source for most known information about all the famous 
pirates."

Rowan: "Isn't it just a trifle out of date?  I mean to say, we aren't 
terribly likely to run across any of those particular sea-rovers in the 20th 
century."

Tim: "I wouldn't dismiss it so hastily.  Even nowadays there are reports of 
vessels being boarded by modern-day cutthroats.  The only difference is that 
they don't usually brandish cutlasses and carry talking parrots on their 
shoulders."

Dix: "How true.  And they don't wear those fetching outfits, like the plumed 
hat and crimson brass-buttoned cutaway you got to sport in Muppet Treasure 
Island."

Rowan: "Are you going to eat ALL those shrimp rolls, Tim?  Push the platter 
this way."

Dix [handing Rowan a couple of rolls; to Tim:]  "Of course, that silk 
dressing-gown of yours has a charm all its own.  Isn't it the one you wore 
last week on 'Rude Awakenings'?"

Tim: "Yes, a gift from my lovely co-star, Lynn."  (After Frank soaked him 
thoroughly, Tim had changed his wet clothing for the dressing gown.)

Dix: "Miss Redgrave has unerring taste.  Pity she towers over you a bit in 
the show,--not that I'm suggesting that you do more of the scenes sitting 
down, perish forbid."

Rowan: "Yes, couldn't they find an actress who was, say, about four foot 
two..."

SFX:  There is a sudden crash as of a bucket of paint falling from a scaffold 
nearby and a familiar voice chimes into the conversation:

Voice Off:  "That's what I told them!  Everyone said that my audition was 
superb!!-- It's just underhanded sneaking devious suck-up-to-the-producer, 
buy-him-expensive-gifts and leave Christine on the cutting-room floor!!!!"

Dix:  "Uh-oh..."

Tim, looking sheepish, follows Dix and Rowan down the corridor to the ship's 
ballroom (told you this was a BIG boat :)).  There they confront --

Dix: "Christine Z!  I knew I recognized that voice."

Rowan: "Oh, My God..."

An interesting sight lies before them:  on the walls of the ballroom are very 
bold, explicit and colourful depictions of various people doing various 
things to one another in a very friendly fashion.  A tilted scaffold hangs 
drunkenly along the left side wall; a bucket of paint lies overturned on the 
polished oak deck, fortunately covered with a waterproof drop cloth.

Tim [placatingly to Dix:]  "Knew you wouldn't mind if I invited Christine to 
join us on our maiden cruise.  She offered to do some murals to brighten up 
the atmosphere a little..."

             *                *              *

After the pleasant surprise of finding Christine on the passenger list, Dix 
feels that she would like to meet the captain and crew of Tim's new pleasure 
craft.  Just in case there are other little details of which she would like 
to be aware.

Tim [leading the way to the captain's cabin:]  "You'll like Captain Scallop.  
He came with the ship too.  A regular old salt."

Rowan: "As long as he knows how to steer, he can resemble any condiment in 
the spice cabinet."

Dix: "How about the crew?  It's been so quiet and the boat runs so smoothly 
and still I haven't seen another soul on board."

Tim raps on the Captain's door, which pops open immediately.  A ruddy-faced, 
jovial and plump white-haired man in a spotless white uniform beckons them in.

Captain Scallop: "What a treat!  Lovely ladies, swamp me and scrape my 
timbers if it ain't!"

He lays aside the copy of "Spicy Sea Stories" he had been reading and ushers 
our trio (foursome at the moment; Christine is staying quite near Tim) into 
his quarters.  White-leather-cushioned benches and chairs line the walls and 
all the brasswork is polished to a fine gleam.

Tim:  "The ladies wished to make your acquaintance, Captain.  And by the way, 
we haven't seen any of the crew members this morning.  All shipshape, I hope?"

Captain [stroking his snowy chin-whiskers and smiling, revealing several gold 
teeth:] "As right and tight as Miss Molly's corsets, saving your presence, 
ladies.  You've the word of Captain Sebastian Scallop, belay me for a 
lubberly lop-eared landsman if you don't!"

Dix: "Sounds good to me.  But where are they?  It must take quite a few hands 
to man a craft this size."

Christine [fondling Tim's arm:]  "Just what I was thinking.  One never seems 
to have enough hands..."

Rowan:  "Oh, dear..."

Dix [accidentally knocking a life preserver off the wall; it falls over 
Christine's head and shoulders, pinioning her arms:]  "Oops."

Captain Scallop misses the byplay:  he has just noticed that one of his desk 
drawers is partly open and casually pushes it shut.  

Captain S. [playfully roguish:]  "Want to see me muster the hands, eh, 
Missy?!  Why not?  Come topside and we'll have all hands on deck in two 
shakes of a whale's tail."

The crew turns out to be a fine-looking lot of some fifteen or twenty young 
men; firm, fit and every inch the well-trained sailor.  They line up for 
inspection and our friends look them over with approval.

Rowan: "Hmm.  Fine stalwart-looking lot.  Good.  I don't enjoy trusting my 
life to incompetents."

Tim: "That reminds me,--where IS Baldrick?"

Dix [nonchalantly:] "He said something about untangling the anchor chain.  
Christine is helping him.(changing the subject)  Isn't it nice how quickly 
Frank has adjusted to a life on the rolling wave?  He's getting to be a real 
sea dog."

Rowan: "Elucidate."

Dix: "Well, you know where the poop deck is?..."

Tim: "Don't say it!"

                    *           *              *

A few days later our friends are beginning to have second thoughts about the 
maiden voyage of their new plaything.  Little unexplained incidents have been 
occurring...

Christine:  "If I ever get my hands on the vandal who defaced my murals and 
stole my art supplies,--!!"

Tim [soothingly, patting her shoulder:] "There, there.  As soon as we make 
port I'll buy you a new set."

Dix [under her breath:]  "She could USE a new set..."

Chistine: "What?!"

Dix: "'You'll be in the news yet, my pet'."

Rowan [carefully pouring gasoline on the flames:]  "Personally I think that 
the unknown artist showed a real flair for costume design. It can't be easy 
to paint clothing on such aggressively unclad figures..."

Dix: "Yes.  And Cap'n Martha looks even cuter in those overalls.  At least 
she won't catch cold now."

Christine [glaring suspiciously at Dix:]  "Vandalism!!"

Dix:  "Oh, come off it.  I didn't do it.  I would have signed my work, not 
put a Biblical quotation on it."

Tim: "Actually, I think it's Emerson. 'I wiped away the weeds and foam / I 
fetched my sea-born treasures home.'"

Rowan: "Conveys nothing to me.  I suppose you tackled Captain Scallop about 
this?"

Tim: "He's been busy charting a new course; says we'll have to correct our 
route and sail south,--there's some nasty weather heading our way, according 
to the barometer.  He had his crew up and hauled them over the coals; no one 
has had any free time lately for impromptu artwork."

Dix: "That reminds me, are you sure he's a real genuine old sea dog as 
advertised?  I was walking Frank on the afterdeck yesterday and spotted the 
captain reading the Wall Street Journal.  When he saw me, he crumpled it up 
and started polishing a porthole with the pages."

Tim: "The former owner, Roger Rackham, assured me that Scallop has been 
sailing the seas for the past forty years.  And with his handicap, I don't 
really like to deprive him of his livelihood."

Rowan: "Handicap?  Not at the dinner table,--the good captain had stowed away 
two lobsters last night before I could open my mouth to ask him to pass me 
the wine list."

Tim: "Yes, he has a wooden arm."

Dix: "What?!"

Tim: "It's hardly noticeable.  That's probably why he always keeps his white 
gloves on."

    *           *            *

Unsettling news, eh?  A captain with a wooden arm...an art critic of 
sorts...and now our intrepid trio make a sinister discovery in the ship's 
galley...

Baldrick is sitting on a high stool near the polished oak chopping board, 
cutting up turnips for his notorious "Turnip Surprise."  With a cutlass.

Rowan:  "Baldrick.  Why can't you use a vegetable peeler like normal folk?  
No, silly question. As you were."

Tim: "More to the point, where did that huge vicious-looking weapon come 
from?"

Baldrick: "I likes the way it cuts,--whack, whack, turnip pudding.  There's 
lots more downstairs."

Dix: "I think you'd better show us where you got that..."

Baldrick leads the way to the engine room.  There he proudly shows them a 
concealed room tucked away behind the machinery and opens the door.  Rows of 
cutlasses hang on the wall, flanked by some very odd-looking guns.

Tim: "If I didn't know better, I would say that those are blunderbusses.  
Museum quality too..."

A voice behind him speaks: "Spying on me, be ye, ye scurvy dogs?!  I'll have 
your lights and livers out of ye!!"

           *                 *                *

Our friends have just received a rude shock and when they turn to see the 
author of said shock they can scarcely believe their eyes:  a tall, scrawny 
cadaverous-looking gentleman in the full regalia of an 18th-century pirate.  
He is also holding a peculiar two-barrel sidearm with double triggers in one 
bony hand and smiling in a nasty way.

Dix: "I know...we're in the Twilight Zone.  Sharp-looking outfit, Mr....?"

The man snarls:  "Mister me no Misters, Missy,--I be Cap'n John Rackham as 
ever was,--as ye'll find out to ye're sorrow!"

Tim: "Oh, fine, he's snapped his cap.  I was told that he would be 
hospitalized for an indefinite period, but I assumed that the problem was 
physical..."

Rowan: "You bought the ship from this certified nut roll then?"

Christine: "Umm, should we be antagonizing a man with a loaded weapon?  It IS 
loaded, I suppose?"

Dix: "If he fires it, he'll probably lose an arm.  (to the lunatic:) I must 
say, I like the cut of your jib, Cap'n,--that's a lovely flowered waistcoat 
you're wearing,--CALICO JACK."

Calico Jack [smirking:] "Ye've heard of me.  Of course, I be famous through 
these waters a-sailing on the Red Sea Trade,--to take all flags saving only a 
black or a bloody one!" 

Tim notices that Calico Jack is getting a bit worked up; the froth at the 
corners of the captain's mouth and the light in his beady little eyes is 
unsettling.

Tim gives a low whistle.

Prompt on his cue, Frank comes pattering up behind Baldrick and nips him on 
the ankle.  Baldrick, off-balance and still carrying the cutlass, trips and 
falls against Calico Jack who takes a nasty spill.

Rowan: "Flee!"

And our friends make the most of the opportunity to be elsewhere.  Panting, 
they trot down the corridors and skid down the gangway toward the crew's 
quarters.

Dix opens the first door they come to and they all slip inside.

Almost the first thing they notice is a huge open sea trunk which Baldrick 
falls over and lands half inside, kicking his little legs.  Rowan hauls him 
out and dumps him on the cabin floor.

Rowan: "That's odd...sailors haven't worn outfits like these for the last two 
centuries."

Dix [pulling garments out of the chest:]  "And that gives me an idea.  We 
don't know exactly what we're up against, so let's try the old camouflage 
dodge."

She tosses a pair of ragged pants and a white homespun blouse to Christine.

Dix: "Quick, put these on."

Christine [looking at the outfit with disdain:] "But these are men's clothes! 
 They'll hide my best features!"

Dix: "And some would say,--never mind.  I'll be Ann Bonney,--you're Mary 
Read, the two female pirates who sailed with Calico Jack Rackham.  They 
always dressed in men's clothes for obvious reasons."

Rowan: "Oh, goody.  I simply love dress-up.  Oh, well, I've always thought 
that I would make quite a fearsome Blackbeard."

Dix: "Mmmm, yes.  And when we have a free moment, I plan to run barefoot 
through that fetching beard of yours."

Tim [with a sinister smile:] "Have you also heard of a certain Captain 
Maynard?  He was the man who finally cut Blacky down to size,--and hung his 
head from the yardarm of his own ship.  I'll be Maynard."

Dix:  "We should all hang our heads if we can't outmaneuver one crazy loon of 
a would-be buccaneer."

Baldrick [who has been out in the corridor, picking up the turnips that had 
fallen from his regrettable clothing during the flight:]  "There's lots more 
than one.  I seen 15 bucketeers running around the deck, loading the cannons 
and sharpening their knives on the ship's cat..."

                *            *               *


Dix [detaching Christine from Tim's ankle with a swift judo chop:] "I must 
say that outfit suits you, Tim...the gold-fbrocaded coat sets off the lace at 
your throat and wrists beautifully."

Rowan [looking ostentatiously at his wristwatch:] "Hadn't we better slip up 
on deck and see what's going on?"

Baldrick: "I have to get back and finish making my Turnip Surprise for 
dinner.  And I know what's going on upstairs, my Lord...them bucketeers is 
shooting great huge guns and it's noisy."

Dix: "Uh, oh..."

SFX: Cannon fire.

Tim: "Now this is really too much.  The maritime laws prohibit 
privately-owned vessels from carrying cannons.  I shall speak pretty severely 
to Rackham about it."

Rowan: "You'll be more convincing if you confront him with a musket.  
Probably live a bit longer too." (He hands Tim a musket and selects one for 
himself.  On second thought, he also stuffs two or three side arms into his 
sash.)

Cautiously and clanking slightly with their complement of weapons, our 
friends gain the upper deck and almost the first sight that greets their eyes 
is another ship approaching on the port bow.  It is an opulent-looking cruise 
ship and as it draws near, Dix is able to read its name:

Dix: "Oh, no!  It's the 'All-For-Tim'!"

Tim [paling:]  "You don't mean...?"

Dix: "Look at the deck...that horde of Timbos all dressed in their fanciest 
cruise clothes...never mind the pirates,--now we're REALLY doomed!"

At that moment Captain Rackham stalks up to the nearest group of pirates who 
are busily loading cannon and gives the order to sink the oncoming ship.

1st Scruffy-Looking Pirate: "Excuse me?"

2nd Scruffy-Looking Pirate: "Yeah.  And where are the cameras anyway?  I 
mean, here we are doing double duty as clean-cut crew members and ferocious 
pirates and I haven't even seen a script!  Improv is okay, but I wanna talk 
to the director before we run into trouble here with Equity."

3rd Scruffy-Looking Pirate: "Cedric is right,--and I wouldn't mind seeing 
some cash either.  We get paid by the day, you know.  Union rules."

Captain Rackham begins to foam at the mouth.  Seizing the lighted tallow 
twist from the first "pirate," he leans to apply it to the cannon's fuse.  
Tim steps out of the shadows of the wall corner where he has been concealed 
and raps Rackham over the head with the butt of his musket, quieting him down 
into an unconscious position sprawled on the deck.

Dix:  "Look out behind you, Tim!"

But it is too late...unnoticed, a large, determined party of Timbos has laid 
planks from their deck to that of the WildWind Princess and lemming-like are 
streaming on board.
            *            *             *

I have drawn a merciful curtain over the scenes of carnage that so often 
follow so immediately in the wake of large gatherings of really-enthusiastic 
Timbos.  Suffice it to say that Tim is almost as good as new, Rowan and I 
escaped with the usual bruises incurred while trying to run interference for 
our pitifully-brave but outnumbered comrade and Baldrick's Turnip Surprise 
was the usual disaster.  Frank tasted it, then dragged the plate to the edge 
of the ship and pushed it overboard.  Three dead sharks coincidentally bobbed 
to the surface some time later.

Two Days Later, in a motel room in a small California town which shall be 
nameless for obvious reasons (Timbos are everywhere, I tell you!), our trio 
is recuperating with a pitcher of mai-tais and a few containers of Chinese 
food.

Dix [scooping up a succulent bit of fried rice with her chopsticks:]  "Well, 
Africa is out.  Remember how Andrea flew in and nearly abducted you there?  
Not to mention the 'rescue' party Cap'n Martha manned to get you out of her 
clutches...and into hers?"

Rowan [reaching for his mai-tai:] "And we can scratch Switzerland.  Much too 
accessible."

Baldrick: "I din't know you could scratch Switzerland..."

Rowan taps him lightly on the head with a nearby vase, which shatters, and 
Baldrick slides smiling to the floor.

Tim: "Even Slipped-Disc World is starting to seem like a vacation spot."  (He 
picks up the TV Guide and looks up the listings for the day, then switches on 
the set.  The reception is poor as the motel is situated at the foot of a 
mountain which shall also be nameless.  I'm no fool. :))

Dix: "They must not have satellite reception here."

Tim:  "That's it!!"

Rowan: "Yes, but no need to get excited. These small towns often lack the 
amenities to which we are accustomed,--"

Tim: "No,--that it!!  We could establish the perfect hideaway and never have 
to worry about unexpected umm, callers,--on our own little space satellite!!!"

The End For Now,
Y(astronaut?)FT,
Dix

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