Just the beginning of a story I've started based on the life of the notorious pirate, Mary Read.
The sea has always been one of my greatest loves. As moody and capricious as my dearest friend, it has been my refuge since I was a young girl. It was the sea that I ran to when my station became unbearable. It was the sea that rocked me to sleep after the death of my first husband. It was the sea that was the only home I ever had.
It is the sea that I gaze upon now, long after the strength to sail has left me, and it is the sea that I pray to be returned to when my time here is ended.
Sitting out in the Louisiana sun, I find myself looking back on my life and thinking about the things that I have done, the places I have seen, and the people I have known. So many years of freedom of adventure. Of brilliant blue skies, sparkling waters and furious storms. Of love and longing and loss.
But my story began far from the colonies.
I was born in London, in the year of our Lord 1687. My mother was devoted in a way that only mothers can be, but there were times in the night when I would look upon her and know that she was lonely. My mother’s husband was a sea captain, and as such he spent most of the year at sea, leaving my mother alone. I wondered later whether it was this loneliness that caused my mother to stray so soon after the birth of my brother Marcus.
I never knew my real father or my mother’s husband. I never knew my brother either. He died shortly after I was born. I often wonder how my life would have been had either of them lived.
Nothing like the way it was, I’m sure. I would have been little Mary Read, the illegitimate child of the sea captain’s widow. I’d have been raised a proper young lady, as my father would have wished. Likely I’d have married young, to a young man of my mother’s choosing, and died in childbirth like so many other women who lived under the constraints of English society.
But Marcus’s death was the catalyst that turned my life onto its long and winding path.
My mother raised me as best she knew, but the money left to us could not last forever, and in my sixth year, things were looking grim. Mother was desperate, and that desperation gave birth to a plan. Her mother-in-law was a woman of some means, and it was her hope that she would be able to save us from destitution. There was, however, one problem.
My mother and grandmother had not spoken since before my brother’s birth, and she knew neither of his death nor my existence. Mother knew that Grandmother would never lend her the money if she knew of her infidelity, but things were desperate, leaving her with only one solution.
She would introduce me as my brother.
The importance of secrecy was impressed upon me many times in the weeks prior to my introduction. My hair, which I had worn down in long, dark waves, was shorn to shoulder length, and my simple dresses and shifts were exchanged for the breeches and shirts worn by young boys.
It was strange to me, walking the distance across town to my Grandmother’s home in breeches after so many years in skirts. Even through my cotton drawers, I could feel the itch of wool. Mother had to repeatedly remind me not to fidget so. She was so afraid that our deception would be found out before we were even through the front door that she herself could not keep still.
Grandmother’s household was small, but she was still affluent enough that a maidservant answered the door. “Good morning,” she said, gazing at us with undisguised curiosity in her dark eyes. “May I help you?”
My mother’s chin jerked upwards in an expression I recognized immediately. She wore that face as a mask of pride, a direct reaction to the maid’s measuring gaze. “Good day,” she said politely. “We are here to see Mistress Read.”
“And who might you be?”
“The wife of her late son,” mother replied sharply. She would not be cowed by a serving girl. Not knowing my father’s disposition, I could only assume that I inherited my stubborn pride from her.
The maid’s eyes widened slightly as she stepped backwards to allow us entrance. “I-I see. Please, come in. I will tell the mistress you have arrived.”
Mother inclined her head in acknowledgement, walking past her with me at her heels. Our home was comfortable enough, but it was a hovel compared to where I now found myself. The walls were papered with subtle yellow and cream stripes that seemed so elegant when matched with the polished wooden furniture. The air itself seemed to breathe class, and somehow I found it stifling. If this is what the air was like, would my grandmother be any different?
Tucking an errant bit of frizzy brown hair back into her fontage, mother looked around the formal sitting room as if deciding whether she should sit down or not, and I could tell that she was as nervous as I. “We can do this, Mar—Marcus. Just…just sit still and do not speak unless she addresses you.”
I nodded. She had been repeating instructions the entire way here. I was not likely to forget them.
At last seeming to come to a decision, mother smoothed her skirts and sat down on one of the elegant couches, only to pop to her feet again when a woman in a black gown and an expression of steely disinterest strode into the room.
“Janet,” my grandmother said in a voice that would have been cordial were it not so stiff. “It has been a long time. Is this young Marcus?”
“It is. Say hello to your grandmother, Marcus.”
I gave a shy bow. “Hello, Grandmother.”
As the woman’s dark gaze traveled moved from my mother to me, it was clear that she was measuring me, looking for traces of her son in my countenance. It was at that moment that I had decided that I disliked my grandmother. I knew that I had inherited my mother’s wide hazel eyes and milkmaid complexion, but I was unsure if I bore any resemblance to the man that she married. Apparently I met her approval, for she gave a nod and moved to one of the chairs.
“Well, sit down,” she said, smoothing her skirts in a deliberate gesture.
We sat, me beside my mother. The furniture was not at all comfortable, and it was a hard battle not to shift every few seconds. However, between the wool breeches and the furniture and my grandmother’s piercing stare, it was impossible not to fidget. Of course, this earned me a sharp look from my mother.
There was tense silence for a moment. Then grandmother spoke again, her voice as flat as her floors. “Let us get straight to the point, shall we? I assume that there is a reason that you have waited for so long to come and see me.”
Mother nodded, looking uncomfortable. It scraped the pride to have to come to her so. “There is. It has been six years since Charles’s passing…the money he left us…it has kept us comfortable until now, but it will not for much longer. I was hoping—“
“You were hoping that I would give you the money you need.” The expression on her face was more than a little bit snug. It was clear to me that she had disapproved of my mother’s relationship with her son, and to see her reduced to asking for assistance seemed to just make her day.
My mother nodded silently.
I may have been young, but the urge to defend my mother’s pride was strong even then. I opened my mouth to protest, to explain to her how good a woman my mother was, but she placed her hand on my knee and gave a subtle shake of her head. I slouched back against the chair, a petulant frown on my lips. How dare this old battleaxe insult the woman who had raised me with such dedication? But for my mother’s sake, I kept my mouth shut.
After a long pause, my grandmother sighed. “I grant you a crown each week for the care of your son, but in return, he will serve as a footboy within my household.”
Mother looked stunned. I do not think she believed that Grandmother would concede any more than I did.
At that look, my grandmother’s expression seemed to soften. “I loved my son, Janet. It is in his memory that I choose to assist in providing for his son.” She stood, indicating that our audience had come to an end. “Starting Monday, Markus will report to my by the noon bell each day, and will return to you each night for supper.”
“Thank you, Katherine,” Mother said on a sigh of relief. “For Marcus, and for myself.”
Grandmother gave a brief nod, and led us to the door. “Until Monday.”
Mother nodded. “Until Monday.”
Kaitou Light Community Member 
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