The Sims Flag
	By Jimbo/Jenny

As told by Hildy, the maidservant

The night was warm, but Rachel had a cold nature. She tightened the scarf on her neck, and stole out of the house.

The wharf was busy and conversational this evening, smelling of smoky chum. A full eight ships had docked this night, the most she could remember. A storm would come on the morrow. Several mariners were on their own decks, swabbing and hoisting and the like. The whole wharf glowed of orange, as the lanterns had already been lit for the night. In the distance could be heard the sweet strains of a squeezebox.

		Pirate Wench
By Veronica.

Rachel walked in a rhythm to the hollow sounds of her feet on the plank boards. Five men called to her from the wharf; they had pipes fully lit, and spoke in languages she did not understand. From the same mouths she heard phrases she knew to be French, and some words she perceived to be Dutch, but understood nothing. She knew they were speaking unmentionable things about her. She felt their eyes, and turned away, but smiled all the while. Ahead was the place her father had always told her to avoid.

St. John was not much of a station; the crews would stop only to shore the riggings before a storm, to take a pint in the tavern, or to visit the bathhouse.

	Bath House
	by Heather The house is part of the Isle of St Simmeon Lot

The bathhouse- the bathhouse was the most infamous establishment on St. Simmons. Not very large, it was well known that the bath maids were of loose character and healthy complexions. They were stout and lovely, and kind to every sailor who passed for a bath, and kinder if he had some plunder to share.

She heard raucous laughter from the inside of the building, and the sensations within her breast discharged in her feet, so she slinked to the back.

	Jewels
	By Jimbo

Four buccaneers were bathing. On the floor were scattered jewels of moderate value, and the maids were costuming them on their wrists and wore them as necklaces, fondling them and pleading with the men to keep them. "We are fine women," they would say, laughing to each other, "and we have rich husbands." The pirates would only grin and ask for a kiss on the cheek; they promised them more jewels later. The girls smiled, poured the hot water, and washed the dirty backs.

	Gold and Blue Pirate "Silky"
By Rainman Body Mesh by Jerome

Rachel admired them. Here was she, creeping from the house, away from her father's eyes, and absent from his knowledge. He would have flogged her had he known where she was; at least, he would have imprisoned her in her room again.

Of the pirates within and without the house, the one in blue, seemed absent from the lust. He sat quietly outside, scaling fish. One of the pirates stood in his bath, and threw a sponge at him through the open window. She heard them call him "Silky."

	Fish Platter
	By Jimbo

"Ho, Silky… take a bath. I'll be clean shortly," the sponge-hurler shouted.

"You finish your bath…" Silky called back, "and I'll have them draw some clean water for me. I don't want to bathe in mud."

Rachel noted the parrot, Old Paul, in the corner. He was quieter tonight, but years of training in buccaneer conversation had given him such a vocabulary as to shame the sailors. Old Paul was probably the oldest living thing on the island… next to her father.

	Parrot
	By Jimbo/Jenny. A pet!

As she straightened her body, something spun her 'round.

"You're looking for something, Lass?" The voice was deep.

"I-I, I lost something."

"Aye, and I've found something," said the man in the red greatcoat. Even in the dark, she could see the wildness in his eyes.

"I need to leave. There's been a mistake."

He grabbed her arm near the shoulder. "You look fine to me, in the moonlight. Fine indeed. Are you a maid in the bath?" Rachel swallowed hard, and her lip quivered.

For a moment, she almost said yes. "I am the daughter of a hard man," she said.

"They call me Pete. I am a hard man."