Ay, dear and if you were still wavering around those swords, you would still be in fine shape." my mother chortled through her pearly teeth. My father notices her adjusting a low placed button with a comical ease, he laughs "Though, something tells me that it seems to be the least bit bothersome to you." Mother puckers her lips "William!" "Elizabeth!" Father playfully whispers. I can tell he is about to say something moreover private to my mother, so I interrupt. "You do know, every word you say, I can hear perfectly! And it doesn't make the least bit of a difference when you whisper." I smile at my family, noticing their facades growing furrowed with forthcoming laughter. They have grown perfectly content with age, something I anticipate will never happen to me. I walk around the bend in the fair lit garden imagining how my parent's got around on pirate ships without wavering back and forth, something I had been trying to picture for awhile now. Then again, I remember though happy, and how seemingly planted they were to land, they did manage to run a large blacksmithing company. This, in its own rights had created a lot of tiring, and sometimes fearsome situations for them.
I stroll to the end of the garden counting each stone I step on to ease my mind of the miserable departure I am attempting. "Rhodos...!" father partially whispers, semi shouts. I peak through the shrubs to see a hazy image of my father sternly standing. "My, my. And here I thought my escape would be well executed!" "The only thing about to be executed is you, young lady!" he walks around the bend and places his hands up to his chin and smiles. "Honestly girl, if you are going to be galumphing about town I expect you to tell me what time you will be home. Also, be safe!" I repeat his strict facial expression in a mocking manner and reply "Sir, you do know that town is an exceptionally safe place? And anyways, I am always home before dinner!" "Cheeky!" he jokingly grunts as I teasingly curtsy.
As I walk down the freshly wet cobblestones I admire the sharp click my shoes make. Men's shoes, I muse. Much easier to walk about in, much like my trouser's I wear beneath my slip and dress. Alas, I cannot walk about high society without concealing my masculine attire choices, for the sake of keeping more rumors away for my family. I focus on my destination again; my steady paced walk befalls to a frolic as I become closer to my desired location. I apprehensively look around for any onlookers and wheel inside a run down hallway. It smells like alcohol and watered down perfume, a characteristic smell for a brothel. I scoff as I realize the women working there look weathered and angry. All in good reason, but I recall after some conversation they can be found to subsist of kind and intriguing qualities.
Most would find it strange and utterly barbaric for a girl of high aristocracy, such as myself to be lounging in brothels, for excellent reason too. But even if they knew it was only to hear the stories the inhabitants could share, they would still be appalled. I must say though, it is all too exciting for me to ever want to stop meeting such marvelous people. Each person I encounter at the brothel, whether it is a cooper with one arm, or the madam who owns the trade, is comparable to a book. Each and every one of these individuals has a lesson to tell, or an adventure to share. Abigail, my new friend, and regular worker at the brothel is one of many who tells me the wonderful places and people she has seen.
As I excitingly gallop to the waiting room of the brothel I see Madam Genevieve gracefully fanning herself with a jaded emotion fixed on her delicately aged face. She is a wealthy woman, due to the great finances the brothel contributed, something anyone could tell from the ornate fabric that so elegantly clothes her body. I quickly notice alongside Madam Genevieve sits Abigail, who though has a fair complexion and feminine face looks somewhat unappealing whilst sitting beside Madam Genevieve.
"Ah, my dear Rhodos!" The Madam spots me and effortlessly breathes. "My lovely Rhodos, if only you were poor, you'd make me a great deal of money." I laugh at the strange jest "Perhaps, in another life." I beam. She then takes my hands in hers before continuing to speak. "I just do not understand why a girl such as yourself, with so much reputation to lose would appear around these parts!" "Luckily for me" I begin "there wasn't much reputation to begin with!" I look to the corner of my eyes and notice a man sharply stand up and approach the side of the Madam and I. " EHEHM!" The now notably lofty man exclaimed. "I been waitin' fo' a good halve hour. Nows, I ain't the busiest man in the world, bu' I tell yous I do care 'bout time." I notice the distinct smell of rum discharging from his mouth. Madam holds her hand up and begins; "Yes, sir. I am so very sorry for long wait." She proceeds to scavenge through chest area of her dress and hands the man a key with the number 12 on it "Go up the stairs and find room 12, it's on the right. Amelia will be up in just a minute." The man shrugs his massive back and stomps his way to the stairs. "Let us sit, dear." Madam hums. I sit, and swiftly turn left to face Abigail. She already knows what I am going to ask her. "So, deary, come back to hear some more tales I presume?" I nod while digging my chin into the palm of my hand. "What'll it be then?" she mumbled merrily. "I 'spose I rather do enjoy those pirate stories!" I said in a dreamy tone. "Grand then!" she exclaimed waking me from my daydreaming of adventure. Abigail's eyes suddenly grew as wide as her hooped earrings as she began to tell me about the first pirate she ever met.
"'Andsome 'e was. Wif dark black hair, darkened skin tone. Had quite a bit of women followin' 'im round. I know all the ladies 'ere in this brophel sure had their eyes on 'im whenever he'd come into town. I was jus' seventeen first time I sawr him, about your age. I spose I did know he were trouble first time I laid eyes upon 'im, but he were funny, you see, and young girls don' know what's good or bad fo' 'em!" She held in a chuckle while remembering her youth, as if she were being chastised for laughing in church. "'E came up to me and do you know what 'e did? 'E kissed my hand! Hahahaha!" she laughed. "Made me feel like a prop' lady 'e did! It was only 'till later did 'e tell me 'e was a pirate. Imagine! Some chivalrous bloke tellin' me 'e was a bloody pirate! 'Course I shoulda been able to tell by the clothes 'e was wearin', but I was jus' so e'cited by 'is manners towards me I din't think about 'is clothes!"
She stopped and stared at me, a confused look on her face. "Go on!" I cried in anticipation and she began again "I said, I said to 'im" She began to point her finger towards my face "'A pirate eh? I might like to see your ship!' 'E jus' laughed and took my 'and without sayin' a word. Then we were at 'is pirate ship an' I was real e'cited because it was the mos' famous ship I ever 'eard of!" "What ship! What was the name of it?" I interrupted. "The Black Pearl." Abigail replied, her eyes shining with the thrill of the memory. The name sounded strangely familiar, but I shrugged the thought of it off. "We got on the ship, an' first 'ing I know I's just woken up on another boat!" I sat there with a puzzled look on my visage. "What happened?" I asked. "Don't know, but took me forever to get back 'ere. Sure enough a couple years later I sawr that pirate again, gave 'im a good smack 'cross the face, I did." I mused at the strange turn the story took. "What did you say this pirates name was again?" I inquired languorously. Abigail rolled her eyes up and contemplated for awhile. After a long pause she replied. "Jack, Jack Sparrow I believe. Charmin' as 'e was, 'andsome as 'e was, 'e caused me a lot of trouble an' time I will never get back." "Jack Sparrow." I sighed, what a lovely name. "Silly girl you are. Dreamin' of pirates." Abigail flashed her crooked teeth at me in a smile and abruptly stood up. "I best be gettin' back to work now. I'll tell you more tomorrow."
I stood up out of the dusty chair and waved goodbye to the Madam and Abigail. While I was walking out through the musty hallway once again, destination homeward, I could only think of two things, Jack Sparrow, and how fascinating his life must be.