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Searle's Sack of St. Augustine, FL, March 2010
(Photo: Mission)
Chapter 4th - Continuing your surgeon's
fascination with food, this chapter begins with lunch. From thence, on
to some notes about the encampment, an abnormal amount of info about his
pants, still more yarns about yarns, the long-awaited arrival of Brig
and what transpired there, even more on pike training, the many travels
and travails of the Patrick Hand Original Planters hat, how your surgeon
acquired a spear, helmet and collar and the answer to the question of how
many buses it takes to move the pirates to St. Augustine.
Right: Gretchen preparing lunch. (Bet her mom can't get her to do this at home.)
Lunch was served and it proved to be as good as every other meal this weekend. I should again note here that Jeff's wife did a magnificent job of feeding all of us, including me despite the fact that I had totally failed to mention my vegetarianism until I had arrived. (I'm sort of forgetful that way. See the first page explaining the whole wallet and passport thing. OTOH, I can reproduce a useless fact about amputation from John Woodall's book on Sea Surgery almost on demand. Some day I really want to see how my mind works. But I digress.)
(Photo: Michelle Murillo)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo:Willie Wobble)
Ivan Henry)
After lunch, I strolled through camp. There were some nice sutler set-ups.
Willie Wobble was selling hand-carved utensils including acorn spoons
(left) and his signature rope-wrapped Wobble Bottles of PiP
fame at his tent. Ivan Henry re-displayed his guns for sale (
right). The campsite was casual, placid and easy-going, reminding
me a lot of
Paynetown last year.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: DB Couper)
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(Photo: DB Couper)
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People found all sorts of ways to entertain themselves during the day on Saturday. Above: a charming lass who's name I know not whittling "something" in front of the memorial to Ponce de León. I'd tell you what it was, but when I asked her she hadn't decided yet. Maybe Ponce knew. Below left: Willie Wobble concentrating on some rope work. Center: a gentlemen checks on THE Wench's pack mule. Below right: a bit of fencing practice for James Paul and Michael Browning. Isn't it amazing that I can you the names of people you can't see but I can't tell you the names of people whose faces you can see as clear as day?
(Photo: DB Couper)
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(Photo: DB Couper)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
The yarn session had progressed and knowing that
you'd want to be kept abreast of the latest developments there, let me
report. The trio (Salty, Red Jessi and Kate right) had
moved from the primary cooking fire to the emergency back-up fire
located in the middle of camp. They had progressed from straightening
yarn to knitting which involved "purling.' There was quite a discussion
about the pros and cons of knitting and purling, led by Salty who seemed
to be most knowledgeable. Usually I am keen to learn new skills, but
knitting is not one of them. (Although I can latch hook rugs. Someone,
I believe it was Kate, mentioned the
latch hooked Imperial Emblem Rug that I have in my bathroom either
as proof of my interest in yarn or because she thought it was funny or
cute or something. However, that's about as far as my interest goes in
yarn generally.) I asked everyone what they were making and they told
me. Someone was making a cap, another was making gloves and the third
was making a car cover. I think. (Don't expect me to tell you who was
making what because I forgot.) Fearing I might get asked to hold the
yarn for straightening or something, I decided to concentrate on another
matter.
(Photo: DB Couper)
Yes, it's time to stop skirting the subject (so to speak) and talk
about my pants. First, I must give you some background. Michael Bagley
had given me a new pair of slops at PiP last year to try and put an end
to my whining about wanting longer pants. Period clothing is not my
specialty and I rely on Michael to guide me, but your surgeon also has
his own ideas about what he wants to wear. I'm sort or unruly that way.
These ideas are blissfully free from any actual period knowledge. The
upshot of all this is that Michael gave me a new set of slops that he
had made for someone whom they didn't fit. They fit me nicely and I was
happy. I believe they were also more appropriate to the 1680s, which is
when Searle's raid took place. OK, enough background about the pants.
Left: Mission...in the pants in question at about the time in question. Any questions?
(Photo: DB Couper)
Kelly prepares for the operation.
(Photo: DB Couper)
The appropriate response.
The problem was that period pants require a drawstring or something in
the back to keep them closed. I knew this, but for some reason my
planning strategy for period events usually involves waiting until the
absolute last minute to do something about such matters, so I had no string.
Nor did I bring anything that would serve in a pinch. To make this whole
thing even more complicated, I only remembered the missing string when my
pants started slipping down at the campsite. Fortunately, Kelly Elizabeth
had brought something called fabric tape that would work, so I sought
her out and asked for assistance. Since I could hardly string the back of
my own pants, I asked her if she would be so kind. She assented and Bam!
You have the third Sighting of Mission's Underpants in the Searle's
Underpants trilogy. Now let's never speak of that subject again.
(Photo: Mission)
I found Patrick sitting at a picnic table by the primary cooking fire and
we talked of this and that (Patrick can talk knowledgeably on almost
any subject) until he announced that he thought it was a good time for a
nap. As we were leaving the dining area together, I spotted Brig.
She was wheeling her daughter Keira around in a period baby stroller.
(Right. OK, it wasn't even remotely period. The American
Society for Testing and Materials (ASTM) would strongly rebuke anyone
daring to put their child in a PC stroller. Stroller Standard Bulletin
F833 – 09 runs for 13 pages, and the first line is probably that all safe
strollers will incorporate as much non-period plastic and safety coated
metal alloys as it is humanly possible to put into them.) Brig's parents
came up as well, allowing Brig to introduce Patrick and I to them as
friends of hers. (This probably put them off their feed for several days.)
They were very solicitous, however, and they took Keira over to look at
the cannons. (The ASTM would probably have collective heart failure if
they ever found out about that.)
(Photo: Mission)
I almost didn't recognize Brig because she was dressed in modern clothes.
I found out this was because someone had accused her of being in her
underwear when she was wearing her normal garb. (I'd much rather see that than me in
my underwear. Wait, we're never speaking of that again.) She had driven
all the way from Orlando to St. Augustine in her period outfit only to
change in the parking lot because of a snarky comment from someone she
didn't know. Sergeant Jeff appeared and greeted her and I explained what had
happened. He told her that anyone saying that to her was certainly not
speaking for the group and if he found out who it was he would give them
what for. Jeff is extraordinarily cool like that and he stated several
times how much he appreciated the folks who came long distances just to
participate. Jeff and Patrick wandered off, so I showed Brig around the
camp, stopping in at the sutler's and checking out Mooseworth's gun
display. Since Mooseworth had several very large rifles, I just had to
get 5' nothing Brig to pose with one of those monsters.
Left: Now here's something for you fan-boys.
Brig also brought a copy of the newsletter (below left) that her husband Jack was making for the Military Through the Ages re-enactment. She brought it for me because I had written an article on medicine for this newsletter and asked Jack to get me a copy. She graciously posed for a photo with me (below right: something for this fan boy.) Brig also promised me that she would take a photo of me wearing the RSH next to Keira wearing her hat, which was apparently similar. Unfortunately, this did not happen.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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As the battle neared a second bout of pike training was called. Based on my experiences with the pike and my enormous hat brim, I decided to set my Patrick Hand Original Planter's hat aside for the duration of the rehearsal. That way it could go off and have its own adventure, courtesy of Mr. Mooseworth Henry in another round of The Not So Rogue's Gallery Tries Out the Patrick Hand Original Planter's Hat and Radar Dish. (The acoustics are amazing in my hat. You remember those ads in comic books that would allow you to hear conversations from 20' away? Me neither.)
 Ivan Henry)
Ivan the Instigator |
(Photo: Ivan Henry)
Salty |
 Ivan Henry)
Kate Barrymore |
 Ivan Henry)
Red Jessi, now with bangs |
 Ivan Henry)
Willie Wobble sporting the Mission Chapeau |
(Photo: Ivan Henry)
The Patrick Hand Planter's Hat returns to its Creator |
(Photo: Mission)
Meanwhile, at the pike training we rehearsed all the "Verb your pike!"
commands and practiced marching again. We focused particularly on
'wheeling' which is piker code for "turning". Based on the berating we got,
the Spanish were much better at this than we English. Once the two groups got
into the field, there was some debate about whether or not we should have
a "push." "Push" is code for "get together like a crazy mob and
shove each other around." It was like being on the 3rd grade playground.
Each group pushed against the other while holding their pikes tilted at a
57¾ degree angle ("Snork your pike!") I don't know if this is how
the real, historical version of a "push" worked, but it seemed sort of
pointless to me. (Hah!) Maybe after you had won the scrum and pushed your
opponents over, you could swing your pike down and stab them. ("Gorp
your pike!") We practiced some other commands, too, but I'm tired of
writing about it.
Right: the Pikesman's eye view of an upcoming push.
(Photo: Mission)
The push! So named because you... |
(Photo: Mission)
...push each other into a clot. |
(Photo: DB Couper)
(Photo: Jess Bagley)
Some folks came over from the cooking tent to start herding us
in the direction of the busses that would take us downtown for the battle.
(I should note that they herded us gingerly. We had the pikes, after all.)
Jeff stopped me and said that he had a helmet I could use. We jogged over to
the tent where the cannon firing demonstration had been where he revealed
several bags o' metal helmets. Not being sure what to look for in a piking
helmet, I decided on something that wasn't too gaudy and that seemed to fit.
Then I jogged back to the primary cooking fire where the troops were massing.
There I was spotted by Joe Blunt (left), who was wearing armor.
He asked me if I wanted to use his gorget. Not knowing, I hesitated to respond.
He then handed me a piece of neck armor which Michael Bagley helped fasten on
me. My own dog collar! Huzzah!
Above right: ♪Spear and magic helllmet!♪
Despite the desire to herd us, we wound up sitting around and waiting - which often seems to happen when you're moving large numbers of people, especially military (or faux military) groups. Different people prepared for the battle in different ways during the wait. Some, like Art Malstein (below left) made sure their kit was in order. Others just patiently waited like Peaches and Katherine - below center) and still others, like our own Red Jessi, donned fleece pirate pants. Well, I suppose it was kind of chilly for Florida, especially for someone wearing a dress.
(Photo: Jess Bagley)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Michelle Murillo)
It was announced that it was really and truly time to board, so a long
line of folks dressed in period clothes and armor, carrying pikes and
black powder guns trooped through the park. I'm sure the tourists looked
on in awe, but since I couldn't see all that well in my helmet so I
can't really say. In keeping
with all my period headgear choices, it had bizarre acoustics.
The bus was a pair of those open windowed tourist deals. It was pretty funny seeing these cheerful green double buses loaded to the gills with folks in 17th century armor, holding muskets and pikes. One very confused old tourist tried to board our trolley until he took a good look at his potential fellow passengers.
Imagine if you unsuspectingly and accidentally got on what you thought was your tour bus and saw the view in the front bus (above left)...or the view in the back bus (below right). You'd beat a hasty retreat too, I'll wager! Below right, an artistic shot - the view of the front bus from the back bus as seen from the viewpoint of a bat sitting atop of Michael Bagley's hat. That there's what you call kwality artistic photography.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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