and I rock the seven seas.
"GEE, what could have inspired this praytell?" I hear you ask. And I give you a filthy look for the sarcasm, you saucy whelp.

So this is a whole lot of shameless self-idealization and escapism. What? See, Gwen asked me to draw her as a pirate "with one of those hats!" after we went to see The Movie. And I did, and then I appeared on there, and by thunder, so did a whole involved alternate universe. YES, our names are Mary and Jane. I'll continue when you all stop laughing, class. Any drug connotations were an unfortunate coincidence and spotted after I grew attached to the names.

From early on it was clear that young Jane Dupree was not the average Cajun brat, from her tomboyishness to her increasingly taciturn ways. Her parents tried to put her through school with their little money, but she did poorly and didn't progress very far. She got weirder. Barked at other kids and wrote poetry. By the time she was ten, "the Dupree girl" was widely reputed as the village lunatic-to-be, and an embarassment to her family.
When the Duprees took their summer catch of crayfish and other bayou specialties to the docks, who should arrive on a British trader but young Mary Tiller. Her widower father had all but raised her at sea, but he had died on a voyage to the East and left Mary in the care of his shipmates. They were nice enough to disregard taboos and continue taking Mary along, but some of the crew was inevitably replaced at every port. Eventually there was a change of captains and orphaned Mary found herself on a much less sympathetic ship. She was made to work twice as hard for half the pay and singled out for being female. It was no fun.
The Duprees noticed Mary wandering sullenly among the stalls and felt pity for her. After learning her story, they offered to open their home to her, and it all boiled down to smuggling Mary back to Louisiana before her ship set sail.
Everyone in the small Cajun community was baffled by Jane's finally finding a friend, but they supposed it to be a good thing. Besides, Mary seemed more mentally balanced than the aloof and tomboyish Jane. Maybe something would rub off.
Despite the close friendship that quickly formed between the two girls, Mary missed the sea and asked the Duprees' leave to find work on a ship once again. This time she went disguised as a boy. For the next few years the Duprees saw her rarely, but she sent letters to Jane whenever possible. Jane enjoyed living Mary's nautical adventures vicariously, but she knew in her heart that she was jealous.
A long stretch passed with no word from Mary, and the Duprees began to think the worst. Finally, one watter-logged and badly stained letter, written in an obviously hurried and shaky hand, reached Jane. Mary's ship had been taken by pirates and she was now a prisoner. The Duprees were stricken with conflicting grief and hope, but none so badly as Jane. She became even more withdrawn and was now seen writing her poetry with a previously absent bitter and forceful passion. She took to growling again.
It was months before the next letter arrived and it opened with explicit instructions for Jane "NOT TO SHOW ANYONE." It turned out that the pirate crew had taken a shining to Mary and she was now considered a part of the crew. She was working hard, but her new shipmates respected her--even after discovering that she was a girl. She was enjoying the freedom and democratic spirit of a pirate's life, and she wanted Jane to join her. Some of Mary's new crew was making a covert trip to the very same dock where the Duprees had found Mary. It was up to Jane to arrive there unseen at the noted time and date, and with Mary's good word she was as good as pirate material.
The Duprees woke one morning and couldn't find Mary for the crayfish-catching.

So a bajillion years pass. Mary and Jane are now captain and first mate, respectively, on their own ship (a commandeered British naval vessel that now goes under the name of the "Mad Herring"--Jane's contribution for sure). The two branched out on their own after some tension on the old ship, which had surrounded Jane's competence and tolerability. A striking change had taken place with Jane's becoming a sailor: she was loud. Oh Lord was she loud, and evidently more barking mad than ever. She forced her poetry upon the crew, carelessly brandished her new pistol, and laughed so hard and often that it began to grate on her shipmates. But Mary stood by her friend and she chose to part ways with the pirates rather than leaving Jane marooned alone on some rock.

Mary has made a respected name for herself in the world of piracy. She's a level-headed and competent sailor, and she smells distinctly of romance and gunpowder. She's always wearing her trademark red and carrying Beatrix, her trusty sabre (called by her "Lady Bea"). The more serious of the two, she is in charge of all planning and decision-making on the Herring. However, she is not absolutely straight-laced; she enjoys her rum like any good pirate and will sing slurred shantys with the rest of the crew on lively nights. She also plays the flute quite well. Her charisma is not lost on her fellow sailors, and she's seen quite a few suitors over the years. However, Mary is far from ready to settle down in any way.

Jane smells of low tide and lunacy. She is an absolute thorn in the side of the crew (excepting Mary), with her constant abuse of priveleges, overbearing personality, and... enthusiasm. If not for Mary's insistence, she would likely not even have a place as a swabby on the ship. Mary is extremely patient with her, as having Jane along means a constant need for replacement crew members. Jane's flintlock pistol is named Thomas (possible small sketch in it for anyone who can guess the reference), but her fond and oft-used nickname for it is Major Tom (because I steal *ladydragona's idea of making musical references). Jane likes to brandish Thomas in a swaggering and careless way--it is nothing short of a miracle that no one's been accidentally shot. Though it is difficult keeping track during melees, most believe that Jane has never actually used the gun for anything but intimidation. She also abstains from alchohol, sometimes vaguely alluding to her Catholic upbringing as an excuse. Some think that her insanity is an act, though whether it is put on for attention or to shut people out is anyone's guess.

The iguana on Jane's shoulder is named (by her) Bartleby. He's pretty much always there, looking disdainful and/or sleepy. He was picked up on one of the Herring's many adventures.

.........................

Oh man. WOO. I suppose I need some technical prattling to make this ramble complete. I am well aware (or at least, I suspect) that the costumes are not Smithsonian-quality historical accuracy in a can. Especially Gwen/Mary's corset doohicky. But thank Poseidon for my Muppet Treasure Island coloring book. When I went to refine the sketch of my jacket the computer was taken, so Kermit was my reference. Other than that, the only references used were pictures of replica pirate pistols, which I used to approximate the proper shape and construction for Thomas.
Enjoy, you hethens! I had a grand time with this one and I'm rather fond of it. I may put the line art up as well, for it looked swanky. Boring standing poses for the win!