I was born in the early hours of the morning before the sun. My mother told me that it was a cold morning and the fire needed another log to keep burning to keep the house warm. Childbearing was just as dangerous for any woman and their infants more than a man killing another man. The pain that she felt from her insides stretching beyond comprehension, the bleeding that could not stop until the child was out of her womb; I never knew that a woman could go through so much with what little could be provided to soothe the pain. Any man could not know that pain of what their wives had to go through in order to bring life into this world. The only words of comfort were from the midwife named Olivia that was placed under my mother's care, telling her to keep pushing.

Olivia was an older woman of forty at that time, but she had much experience of bearing children from other families she has worked for in the past. During the months of my mother's pregnancy Olivia made sure she was in proper care. She made sure my mother was not overworking herself or risk having a premature birth or stillborn. Father worked longer hours crafting new furniture for the wealthy and rich which made due with the money they needed. He promised to provide for his family and kept his word like any man would.

Mother told me that on the day of my birth, father was outside pacing back and forth as he heard her scream in the process of birth. He was nervous but most of all scared of what could happen. Fear of losing both his child and wife, fear of losing his whole family, he has never been through such an ordeal like this. Being out in the sea for so long was nothing now. The sea, She may be at an unrest but even She understands the pain of a mother.

The sea's waves were rising high, rocking the sails to the harbor as if an approaching storm was to set on land. It was strange and still strange when I hear of a cold morning of the unrest of the sea while I was being born. Salty lived for his wife as he once did for the sea. He lived for me (his child) that came out of my mother's womb still with a faint pulse.

My mother told me that she was scared that I was not alive until Olivia cleaned me with warm water that was placed by her side. I began to move, she has said to me. I moved and cried as loudly as my little lungs could let me. In the early morning on a cold day, I cried loudly not knowing that on the other side of the door my father smiled; feeling warmth that he was going to raise a child that will grow up in a world that wanted something valuable.

'My child will grow strong.'

No one is ever out of danger as a newborn. The first few months were the hardest for my family and any newborn would be lucky to survive their first few months of newly granted life. Feeding, keeping me well, trying to keep the diseases at bay, there were many threats that could have killed me but I was one of the lucky ones to survive. Olivia always checked me for any signs of sickness or deforms in my body which there were none. As the months passed with the changing of the seasons, I was growing.

Years would go by where one moment it would be warm and the next few months the winter will come bringing snow to cover the ground. It seemed strange to think that when I looked out to the harbor where the sea crashed her waves, on the other side in a forest that not many men travel, an eagle flew to the tops of the trees it calls home. I wonder if he knew that somehow our paths will cross in the most unlikely place. Until when we meet, he is nothing more than a stranger- a phantom- in the forest whose fate will be determined by those who came before.

I am named Seliah Marin. Daughter of the infamous pirate: Salty Bones.


1765: New York

Growing up, my mother always told me that I had my father's eyes. Each expression I made reminded her of him. Though, I had more in common with him. The way I thought, how I spoke, and the calling of the sea. It was certainly forbidden for me to think of the sea. Somehow, I felt it to be in my blood to go to the harbor like my father and stare out at the birds that fly or the ships that passed. Father always seemed to be more at peace when we were at the harbor and talked to me about his days at sea.

His stories were always vague. Like he was hiding something from us. But, as a child, I never thought about it clearly. I was too busy imagining myself at sea. Seeing myself as a grown woman with her own ship one adventures. Like the stories of sailors fighting sea serpents or even the kraken.

I had a wild imagination as a child.

Until I met some men and it scarred me.

I did not know that they were still out there. They still wanted him. They have yet to know that I held a strong resemblance to that of Salty Bones. What they did not know was that my father lived under a different name: Eloy Marin married to Adolfa Sanz-Marin. Still, I had barely any resemblance to my mother other than her long black hair, hazel colored eyes and tanned skin. My female features, as she put it, will come later in my life when I have matured but as of now I had to escape with the orphans that I have made friends with from the British guards.

"Do not let them escape!" The loud shouts of the soldier's echoed off the walls.

"Who says we are escaping?!" I shouted with a teasing grin on my face.

We ran down deserted alleyways tearing down clothes from the lines of the day's laundry trying to use them to trip the guards who were coming too close for comfort or at least use them for distraction. Hearing the sounds of their footsteps and the clanging of their weapons against them, I knew these back alleyways well along with my orphan friends who were scattered about dealing with other guards who got out of formation. If these men were smart enough they would not use their muskets to shoot at us. The guards may have known alleyways but we liked to call ourselves experts in our means of escape. There was a big smile on my face as my muscles in my legs were burning like a fire, but the fun of it kept me going.

'If I keep this up the guards are going to kill me.' I thought.

"If my friends do not kill me first and I want to live to see another day." I told myself with a sigh.

I slide under a wooden fence where on the other side lays a rope longer than I that connected to another just a few yards away where my friend did the same. As the guards came closer to us he gave the signal to pull upon the ropes and once the guards came within reach we pulled with all our might and down came the guards. Toppling on top of each other as wekids laughed and ran once more through open doors of houses becoming separated as the crowds moved about.

"Get off me and go after those damn children!"

It was not an everyday occurrence where we would be on the run from British loyalist, but when we had that chance we took it. The orphans would pester them for hours on end, but it takes one guard to begin a chase. Out of aggravation and annoyance was a source of our own entertainment. These children were made homeless from death of the parents to the loss of their homes under the British control. I felt sorry for them at first and tried to understand what they were going through for I was not like them. They knew this at first, ignoring me as I tried to make friends with them until I had to prove myself worthy for their friendship.

"Tom Boy, you have the second half of those guards!"

…and I had a nickname.

My parents did not know of my friendship with orphans and I knew they would keep me away from them, but these children were my only friends. My parents did not know where it was that I would go off too after my chores were done for the day. They believed me to be off just being a child wanting to have fun, but my mother always scolded me when I would come home dirty. I had that sense for adventure at my age and like others which my father would approve of. My parents worried for my safety. I understood for a time knowing I could be in a situation where my life could end by the edge of someone's musket.

The orphans may not have had family worried for them, but they had each other. Family may not have to be bound by blood. The orphans that I knew held each other as a family unit. The older of them would be like parents. Like mentors on their ways of survival. They also treated me as their own after I proved myself to them. Trust was not so easily formed. After I proved I could know the ropes and run with them, the orphans began showing me ways of escape, pick-pocketing and eavesdropping. It was all basic survival on the streets of New York. A tactic I will use in the future.

British control was made seen with their flags swaying above buildings constantly reminding us that red coats were under the king's order and this was his land. Above it all, there were some that did not want that control. They wanted to break free from it for the taxes were too high for some (if not all). The red coats were also taking advantage of their privileges thinking that they were above us. It was of no wonder my father did not like the lobster backs: so he and others called them.

I knew these streets were not safe. The orphans had told me the many stories. I knew the risk. It was a constant fight for children and adults alike trying to survive on what little they had. No one seemed to care for the dirty, the hard working, the poor, but the rich and wealthy of people went about their business not wanting to meddle with affairs of the lower class. I was not poor. My father provided and my mother was helping with the shop. We were in the middle class which made no difference in anyone's eyes. It made no difference in my own eyes. I was too young to understand what business was, yet I knew more of the streets.

The sun was going to set within another two hours and it would be that time for me to head home for the day. I had to find my friends-wherever they may be-to say goodbye and give them what little coins I had in my pockets from chores for them to get food. These people given up on them but they were my only friends. I might as well give back for what they have taught me over the years. To the children with parents and a home within the distance of my home, I was strange. They would not talk to me or give me a chance. Oh well, orphan friends had much to teach me.

Looking back and forth to see if any guards that were chasing us were out of my sight and found new guards; it was clear. Running around corners, alleyways, over fences, I was in open streets filled with people. What I did not expect was to run into a grown man which made me fall to the ground with a loud thud. On-lookers on the street passed us by without so much as a second look and once my vision was clear and the pain in my face stopped, I looked up to apologize and noticed that there was a second man next to him.

"I apologize, sirs. I did not see where I was running too." I apologized quickly.

"A child should not be playing out in the open streets for they could be trampled by a horse or a carriage." The man I bumped into helped me to my feet.

Dusting myself off I looked to him and noticed something that frightened me. I was frozen under the man's intense stare. His one eye was dead and gray but it did not look as if it was to me. His gray eye looks as if it were still alive looking intently at me, observing me underneath his stare. It occurred to me that I felt so small and insignificant that I was not aware that I was backing away slowly.

The gray eyed man kept his stare on me with a sneer of a smile upon his scarred lips. This man I knew was dangerous compared to his companion who held a calm composure; arms were behind his back with his hat dipped low. The man with the gray eye was the opposite but he might have been more calculating, cunning even if he were alone. I have heard from my father about how monsters who were calm were not so by nature.

'Could this be?'

"You are frightening the poor child." The second man said. He had an English accent as the gray eyed man had what seemed like a Spanish accent; kind of like my father but the difference was that this man had a much thicker and rough voice.

'Frightening? I am too scared to move my own legs. This man's eye is staring at me.' I was not aware that I was shaking underneath this man's stare. I wanted to turn around and run as far away as I can.

"I do not mean to scare you child. You see, I have a blind eye but I tend to keep it closed when I walk about." The man with the gray eye spoke trying to sound sincere.

"It's okay sir. I have to find my friends." I quickly stated, finding my courage to turn back and run as fast and far away from these men as I can.


"What a strange child would you say Haytham?" Gray eye said looking to Haytham with a passive look.

Haytham did not look to his companion as he watched the child become lost in the crowd. There was something strange about the child but it was only speculation of what he thought. Gray eye on the other hand was thinking differently about the matter. He was a cold man who never seemed to be fazed by anything unless it has caught his attention. Whatever caught his good eye, Gray eye would be on it like a predator to its prey.

"What of the child?" He asked. He certainly did not think much of the child. Orphans were running rampant in the city and they were tricksters. Stealing pouches of money or causing mayhem. Haytham did not care for children.

"There is something about the child that reminds me of my former protégé." Gray eye stated closing his eyelid.

"Have you seen the child before?" Haytham asked with a bit of curiosity. What was special about this child?

"I have not seen that child but I recognize the resemblance. That face and those expressions…" His words lingered.

This was getting Haytham's attention and every bit of information helps. Even if both men's causes were different. Somehow, they both seemed to have something in common dealing with whom the father of the child was.

"Someone you know?" Haytham questioned. Maybe he could look into this mystery. Though, pirates were mysterious themselves. If there was a grudge with this child's parents, certainly Grey eye would who he was looking for.

"Tell me, master Haytham… Is ol' Salty Bones alive and well?" Haytham had to gather his thoughts. A name he has not heard of in a long time.


I've made it home tired and scared. I am sure my friends will not think of me as a coward, but that man with the gray eye was strange. In the morning I will go find my friends but for now I wanted to be home away from those men. All thought of them had to be placed in the back of my mind. They would not harm me because I made sure that I would not run into them again or had them follow me home. Whoever they were did not look like the type of men I wanted to bother with. These men did not wear the uniform of the British soldiers, yet the one that did not have the gray eye talked with the accent that is most common here in the colonies.

Thoughts pushed aside (for now) I could not let it bother me. I was a strong girl who played pranks on the soldiers. I had friends that were orphans. My father was once a sailor. There was nothing that I should be afraid of-except for the man with the gray eye. Walking through the halls of the burning candles, curtains pulled back to let in the lights in certain rooms and the smell of wood was fresh throughout our home. It was a nice smell. It reminds me of the forest where men ventured out into the open. One day I will want to roam those mountains, cross those rivers, explore the places I could not have dreamed of. Until that time comes I was only surprised to see that my parents have yet to show themselves.

Quietly, I walked until I began to hear voices coming from my father's work room. I was not allowed to be in there or my mother, it was his privacy and place of work. We respected that from my father but for some reason I could hear the voices of both parents talking.

"How long have you kept this from me?" My mother asked.

"Adolfa… I could not tell you. If you knew about me…" Then my father began to speak but mother interrupted him quickly before he could explain.

"…Eloy-or if that is your name- You have lied to me for years. We have a daughter and you kept this secret? If you were afraid that I would have let you hanged in the gallows without a second thought… You could have told me. I love you." She was sounding as if her heart was being torn open from her chest. I could not walk any further for my legs were shaking from running home. Leaning against the wall of my home, breathing in the air in my lungs I did not want to keep hearing what was happening but my curiosity took a better hold of me.

"Adolfa, I was afraid that you would have told the soldiers. They are after me. If they found out that I still live, I do not want to have to place you or Seliah in any danger. This has been my life for so long. The sea, she still calls to me, but you have to understand…"

"…If Seliah finds out about this; no I cannot let that happen. We both know that she is always out on the streets doing whatever it is that she does. When she becomes a young woman, those soldiers will treat her no different than any man. I will not let her find out and you will have to stop talking to her about the sea. She acts like you and talks as if the sea is calling to her."

"I was afraid that she would. It is in her blood and it is my own doing for not keeping her away from the harbor. My past has been hidden away for so long in the back of my mind that I have forgotten about other realistic things. My attire, my journal, everything is hidden where I hope she will not find."

Casting my eyes to the wooden floor I could no longer listen. Turning away I walked back through the candle lit hall. My perception on father has not changed. Whatever it was that he wanted to hide from mother and I; I could not question. I had my father's love for the sea and nothing could truly change that. For whatever reason that possessed me I walked towards a set of stairs leading up to our bedrooms. Yet, I did not take one step up for something strange caught my eye that I have not seen before.

There was a painting that my mother has purchased long ago before the arrival of me, hanging on the side of the steps. It was a painting of a ship that was beautifully made by an artist that I have not heard of. The ship did not look like any ship I have seen before and it looked as if it were sailing through a storm. Then I could see the outline of a door that I have not seen before. I never knew that there was something hidden there and I pass every other day.

Why haven't I ever noticed? It was a thought that made me question. Placing my hands on the wall I could feel cool air coming from the small cracks and I began to push with all of my strength. The door opened slightly and in I walked. It was a small room with a chest sitting in front of me.

They say when you want something to be hidden away from all eyes you have to place it in a place where no one would dare look or even notice. What I was going to find out was who my father truly was and why he was hiding all of this from us. What I would not know was that a few days later after my discovery of the chest I would find a journal that held my father's thoughts.

I go by the name of Salty Bones…

Those were the first lines of my father's journal. Reading further and deeper into the journal I discover things I did not know about my father. How he was once a sailor and how he became a pirate was like reading a fictional book but this was all too real. I never questioned my father nor did I tell him about the journal he wanted to keep hidden. Until one day he came inside of the small room… It was there that it all became unraveled and one that very day he talked to me and I too him. From that day, he taught me all he knew about true survival and how to keep myself hidden in plain sight.

I am the daughter of a pirate.