A/N: Hehe.intro isn't over. Hope you like the real thing when I right it.
The sun shined into my bedroom and the crying woke me up right on time. All nine younger kids needed to eat; counting my mother's newborn babies. What really killed me these days was the fact that my father didn't know my mom was with child. Another set of twins, both girls this time. Twins run in my family. I had a twin at some point, but he was born dead. Mary, Timothy, Rachel, and Rebecca needed to get out into the sun shine, Jacob needed his lunch for work, Aunt Ellen needed help in the garden, the babies needed to be watched, the rooms needed to be clan, the tables served, and the rooms had to be paid for. This was a task because our regulars would go weeks without paying, and we needed the money. I jumped out of bed and got dressed in the normal clothes for an 11-year-old tomboy, a sailor's tanned, low shirt and pants, with boots and too much jewelry on the wrists.
I ran down the stairs, and already a good amount of people were sitting at the tables, talking over the news and what gossip was going around. Some of the people waiting at the desk, new comers, watched me as I brought food to each table, walking so fast I felt like I was jogging from table to serving window. They stared at the way my reddish brown hair fell at and angle, starting at chin length, and growing once it went past my ears. I had my father's face and eyes. Just like him I had spectacles on that slipped down my nose every other second. Good old Mrs. Sherman saw me as she descended the stairs and yelled across the room the latest boy she thought would be a good match for me when I was older. Mary, whose almost black curly hair had grown well past her shoulders, called to me from the back door, "What is it Mary, and be quick about it." Her high pitched seven-year-old voice said urgently, "Auntie Ellen's horse is foaling, Abby, she needs your help." A groan escaped from my mouth. Ellen needed help with everything these days. But we needed that foal to live so we could sell it later.
I put mother's butchering smock over my head and sprinted out the door. Ellen really did need help. There wasn't much I could do at the time; I was only a child. But I could run faster than some of the boys in town, and that's what my Aunt Ellen needed at the time, strong legs to run down and fetch Master Nathaniel from his bar tending to come and help. Mary tried to keep up, but I sent her back inside. I would have to go into the main streets of Tortuga, and there was more than one man there that would rape a child if he felt inclined to do so. I ran faster than I ever did before. When I caught sight of Nat's Bar, I ran though the door, running right into someone, and the impact sent me falling onto the floor.
I didn't bother to stop and apologize, as I should have. Nat saw my face and knew what I needed help with. He was out the door in no time, making sure his assistant knew where he would be. I ran up the street once more, jumping over drunks here and there. Nat was a chubby fellow, but he knew how to keep up. By the time we reached we reached the barn, the foal was out of her mother, and the sack was broken. Nat looked over the thing, and when my mother questioned him if she did the right thing he said, "I'm surprised, Ma'am, you did a mighty fine job." My Aunt Ellen walked back into the room and Nat got a good look at the mess her dress ands hair was in before she could walk back out again. The crying started up from the inside of the Inn, and mother went to settle it, while I on the other hand, had to get off to sailing school. The ports of Tortuga were full of low- lifes and pirates. Not the pirates that followed the code to death, but those that committed mutiny. You could tell which one they were; they had that look of greed in their eye. I was only eleven, and some men even tried to catch my arm and lead me away, but it was early in the morning, and their hangovers allowed me to shove most of them away with a strong look or two.
Peter, my sailing teacher, owned a small little skip that moved about the harbor and beaches for fishing. The Inn wasn't making enough money for us to keep it open, so we were thinking of catching fish and selling them at the markets on good days. Peter fancied my mother, and had asked for her hand more than once, but my mother always refused. He was the type of man that would die for you, but mother had enough of them. Devin, who was ten, ands Michael who was 11 at the time were already at the dock. I murmured an apology of lateness, and the lesson began. From what I could tell, they didn't care. We spent the entire day out on the water. Peter said I would be ready for the real thing. It was my dream to some day be the pirate that my father once was. But something happened that day that no expected. The sky was darkening even though it was only noon, and the winds picked up, "Better head in you three. If the winds get too strong our skip will be tossed over like a coin." Peter was normally right. By the time we got on the beach, high tide was forcing the waves high onto the sand.
As we made our way back up towards the Inn we watched as all people and manner of life seemed to buckle down for hard weather. Even the drunken fools were heading in to the nearest bar. It started to rain as the three of us were turning a corner to the Inn. That's when we saw in. There was a For Sale sign on the door, and light from inside showed people rushing about. Devin and Michael ran to their house, which also showed a for sale sign and I ran inside the Inn. All the serving tables were gone. The walls were bare, and my mother and Caitlin were trying to calm the babies down. Here were a few bags at the foot of the stairs, and my keepsake trunk. I was about to speak when the door opened and a voice I knew all too well said, "That can't be my goddaughter?" I turned around and right before me was my Uncle Matthew.
The sun shined into my bedroom and the crying woke me up right on time. All nine younger kids needed to eat; counting my mother's newborn babies. What really killed me these days was the fact that my father didn't know my mom was with child. Another set of twins, both girls this time. Twins run in my family. I had a twin at some point, but he was born dead. Mary, Timothy, Rachel, and Rebecca needed to get out into the sun shine, Jacob needed his lunch for work, Aunt Ellen needed help in the garden, the babies needed to be watched, the rooms needed to be clan, the tables served, and the rooms had to be paid for. This was a task because our regulars would go weeks without paying, and we needed the money. I jumped out of bed and got dressed in the normal clothes for an 11-year-old tomboy, a sailor's tanned, low shirt and pants, with boots and too much jewelry on the wrists.
I ran down the stairs, and already a good amount of people were sitting at the tables, talking over the news and what gossip was going around. Some of the people waiting at the desk, new comers, watched me as I brought food to each table, walking so fast I felt like I was jogging from table to serving window. They stared at the way my reddish brown hair fell at and angle, starting at chin length, and growing once it went past my ears. I had my father's face and eyes. Just like him I had spectacles on that slipped down my nose every other second. Good old Mrs. Sherman saw me as she descended the stairs and yelled across the room the latest boy she thought would be a good match for me when I was older. Mary, whose almost black curly hair had grown well past her shoulders, called to me from the back door, "What is it Mary, and be quick about it." Her high pitched seven-year-old voice said urgently, "Auntie Ellen's horse is foaling, Abby, she needs your help." A groan escaped from my mouth. Ellen needed help with everything these days. But we needed that foal to live so we could sell it later.
I put mother's butchering smock over my head and sprinted out the door. Ellen really did need help. There wasn't much I could do at the time; I was only a child. But I could run faster than some of the boys in town, and that's what my Aunt Ellen needed at the time, strong legs to run down and fetch Master Nathaniel from his bar tending to come and help. Mary tried to keep up, but I sent her back inside. I would have to go into the main streets of Tortuga, and there was more than one man there that would rape a child if he felt inclined to do so. I ran faster than I ever did before. When I caught sight of Nat's Bar, I ran though the door, running right into someone, and the impact sent me falling onto the floor.
I didn't bother to stop and apologize, as I should have. Nat saw my face and knew what I needed help with. He was out the door in no time, making sure his assistant knew where he would be. I ran up the street once more, jumping over drunks here and there. Nat was a chubby fellow, but he knew how to keep up. By the time we reached we reached the barn, the foal was out of her mother, and the sack was broken. Nat looked over the thing, and when my mother questioned him if she did the right thing he said, "I'm surprised, Ma'am, you did a mighty fine job." My Aunt Ellen walked back into the room and Nat got a good look at the mess her dress ands hair was in before she could walk back out again. The crying started up from the inside of the Inn, and mother went to settle it, while I on the other hand, had to get off to sailing school. The ports of Tortuga were full of low- lifes and pirates. Not the pirates that followed the code to death, but those that committed mutiny. You could tell which one they were; they had that look of greed in their eye. I was only eleven, and some men even tried to catch my arm and lead me away, but it was early in the morning, and their hangovers allowed me to shove most of them away with a strong look or two.
Peter, my sailing teacher, owned a small little skip that moved about the harbor and beaches for fishing. The Inn wasn't making enough money for us to keep it open, so we were thinking of catching fish and selling them at the markets on good days. Peter fancied my mother, and had asked for her hand more than once, but my mother always refused. He was the type of man that would die for you, but mother had enough of them. Devin, who was ten, ands Michael who was 11 at the time were already at the dock. I murmured an apology of lateness, and the lesson began. From what I could tell, they didn't care. We spent the entire day out on the water. Peter said I would be ready for the real thing. It was my dream to some day be the pirate that my father once was. But something happened that day that no expected. The sky was darkening even though it was only noon, and the winds picked up, "Better head in you three. If the winds get too strong our skip will be tossed over like a coin." Peter was normally right. By the time we got on the beach, high tide was forcing the waves high onto the sand.
As we made our way back up towards the Inn we watched as all people and manner of life seemed to buckle down for hard weather. Even the drunken fools were heading in to the nearest bar. It started to rain as the three of us were turning a corner to the Inn. That's when we saw in. There was a For Sale sign on the door, and light from inside showed people rushing about. Devin and Michael ran to their house, which also showed a for sale sign and I ran inside the Inn. All the serving tables were gone. The walls were bare, and my mother and Caitlin were trying to calm the babies down. Here were a few bags at the foot of the stairs, and my keepsake trunk. I was about to speak when the door opened and a voice I knew all too well said, "That can't be my goddaughter?" I turned around and right before me was my Uncle Matthew.
