Chapter Eighteen: Welcome Home, Roland
My lessons for the day were completed soon after noon. I was free for the rest of the day until Dad returned for my sword lessons. I was alone in the house, save for a handful of servants doing chores. Mum had left a while ago to have lunch with other rich and delicate ladies. I wondered how she enjoyed the life of a woman. All women would ever be were obedient bodies with no mind of their own. Their lives would be controlled by men, although in my family's case, it was quite the opposite. Mum and Dad loved each other very much and shared the power. But perhaps, in my future, I would not be so fortunate.
Bored, but restless, I roamed about the house, humming or sliding down the sleek banister of the stairs. The action would have been more entertaining if I wasn't alone. "Damn you, Roland," I muttered. "Why are you the lucky little bastard that gets to go out to sea?" I marched up the stairs after sliding down the railing one last time and wandered around the upstairs hallways.
Most of the extra rooms belonged to the servants, so I kept clear out of them. I popped my head into Mum and Dad's room, which was the largest on the second floor. It was neat and grand, not a hint of dust ruining any piece of furniture in the room. The large bed was made; its blankets and sheets pulled straight and smoothed out. The pillows were fluffed up and round, and all I wanted to do was jump on it and soak in the comfort.
Sadly, I didn't do as I planned when I walked quietly into the room. I decided to explore the room's shelves and drawers a bit before having my fun. I went from drawer to drawer and even took a peek in the closet for anything entertaining, but my parents were dull and insipid, or at least, their bedroom was. All they had were their clothes and jewelry. No secret journals or diaries or hidden paintings. Nothing.
Then I stumbled upon a rather old and worn out chest hidden behind Mum's dressing area. Its wood was dry and old, held together by rusted black pieces of iron. There was no lock on the chest, which surprised me, and I swung the lid open. Inside were a pile of papers and books, and a shocking old bottle of some old drink. I dug deeper into the mess in hopes of finding more objects of my parents' unimaginable past on the sea, but I only found dead and dusty shells and sea stars from the ocean. I was saddened by the trinkets. They told me that even my own mother had adventures on the ocean, while I have been locked up in this blasted house for years.
Despite that, I persisted to sift through the books and papers, reading a page or two of each to see if they were worth reading. I found one thing in common with all of the books and documents. They all had to do with pirates. Once particular book seized my attention, for it told of a pirate whose name was Jack. The pirate in my dream was named Jack, and I immediately set to reading to find more about this pirate. But inside, I knew there was another question that bothered me. How did my parents get in contact with an infamous pirate? And why did they never tell me or Roland about him?
I leaned against the wall, sitting on the clean rugs below me. My eyes scanned down the words on the old, stiff yellow pages, and each one made my heart beat faster and my thoughts churn quicker. Something was oddly familiar about the man described in the book.
The dream I had about the pirate named Jack portrayed him as a drunk and witty man. His steps were wobbly and he sometimes mumbled, with a light humor always around him. I only grew more interested when he was described almost exactly the same way in the book.
It seems as though Jack was a ruthless and hard to capture buccaneer. He had traveled across all the oceans, plundering and pillaging merchant ships and the king's ships to retrieve his precious treasure. He narrowly escaped from the East India Trading company, and soon found his way to the rich Caribbean, where he obviously met my Mum and Dad.
The thought that they knew who he was angered me, and I shut the book closed. I tossed it aside and stared at the other loose documents in the chest. I squinted at the glass bottle containing the brown liquid and grabbed it. I opened it and took a sniff and backed away. The odor was strong and left a tingling sensation in my nose. "What on earth is this?" I thought. I took another, bigger sniff, and wrinkled my nose. It had a definite smell; bitter, strong and sweet. Always having been of the curious kind, I brought the rim of the bottle to my lips and took a small sip.
I was rather surprised at its taste. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. With a grin, I took another, larger sip of the remarkable brown liquid. "I wonder if Mum and Dad knew how delightful this drink can be," I thought. "Perhaps they won't mind if I take it with me to my room."
I closed the bottle and gathered an armful of papers and books about the devious Jack and marched into my room. I dropped the items onto my bed and soon joined them. I lay on my stomach as I rummaged through the papers and old books, taking a sip of the stunning drink every now and then. I found it awfully difficult to lie down in that position, for the pressure from my corset was squeezing the breath out of me, and the pressure from the bed would not help. With a sigh, I got up and closed the door to my room. I undid the back of my dress and pulled at the bottom strings that hung loose from the corset. Unfortunately, I pulled them without untying the bloody things, so I only ended up suffocating myself even more.
I fell to my knees, gasping for precious air and cursing myself for not being smart enough to untie the corset strings. I felt for the knot on my corset, and found it. It took two hands to untie the tight little bond of string, and at their freedom, I gave a big sigh of relief. I pulled the two sides of the corset away from each other and I grinned with satisfaction. The damned corset would not choke me any longer.
With that done, I hopped back onto my bed and opened one of the aged books. "How wonderful it must have been for Mum and Dad to meet you, Jack," I said to the book as I turned another page. "I wish I could meet you too, that is, if you're still alive." I grabbed the bottle of the wonderful liquid and took a large gulp. I smacked my lips and took another large and lasting swallow. I shrugged and took one last glance at the bottle before chugging down all of its contents, down to the very last drop.
It was mid-afternoon when there was a loud knock on our front doors. "Astrid!" came Mum's voice from the bottom floor. I didn't even know she was home. "Get the door please!" Her voice seemed to echo in my head as if it was some hollow cave, but I still managed to lift my head up from my bed and wobble onto my feet. I swayed from side to side as I headed for my door. My vision was blurred and fuzzy, making it quite a fun challenge to get across my room. "Astrid!" Mum repeated. "Get the door!" I laughed and finally stumbled into the door, narrowly missing knocking my forehead on the wood.
The door creaked open and I poked my head out. "I'm go-ooing, Mummy!" I laughed and headed down the stairs, hugging desperately to the railing for support. It was harder than I thought to walk down the stairs. My feet seemed to betray me. If I planned on moving right, they moved left and vice versa. But I remained happy through the whole thing. The task was too entertaining, but I hurried myself when there came another knock on the doors, louder this time. "I—ee—am co—oming!" I shouted, or rather, burped in reply. The drink had created gas bubbles in me.
"GOOD!" came a yell from outside. I lost my footing on the stairs and fell the rest of the way down, surprisingly, it was fun, and I ended up on the floor laughing hysterically. I got up quickly, and shook my head a bit.
I finally reached the door, dazed but extremely elated and swung it open. "Oh good to see you!" I yelled, waving my hands in the air. I took a step forward, my arms held out wide to give the person a warm welcoming hug, but it seemed as though I missed because I stepped outside and stumbled into someone else.
"Astrid?" it squawked, pushing me back inside.
"Hi—ii—ii!" I giggled, spinning myself around back into the house. I almost tripped again, but I managed to stay on my feet.
"Are you all right?" said someone. I was grabbed from behind and turned around so I was facing the visitors again.
"Huh?" I replied. I laughed and tilted a bit forward, bumping into the person again. I wrapped my arms around them and gave them a good welcoming hug. "Let's dance!"
"What?" With no delay, I grabbed their hand and stumbled a few steps back before spinning around and around, with my hands glued to the other person. "Astrid! Stop! What's wrong with you?" I gave a delighted laugh and stopped my feet from moving. I looked at the person and pointed a finger at them.
"Ya don't want to dance, eh?" I said. The person didn't reply, so I wondered why with a cross face. Who was he to deny a dance with me?
"Astrid!" came a piercing screech. I turned to my right and saw a woman march towards my visitors and me. She stopped right next to me and gave a sharp look at the young man I danced with.
"What are you doing with her?" He quickly removed his hands from my shoulders, even though I made him put them there.
"I'm sorry, Missus Turner," he said, backing away.
"Eh, why you gettin' angry wi' him, Mummy?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips.
"Because the back of your dress is undone and your corset is loose!" she yelled. She gave my back a good, hard slap. "Get up to your room now!" I shrugged and wobbled my way to the stairs, giggling at the strange situation.
"Come see me again, love!" I cried out as I looked back at them. I ran into the banister, slipped and knocked my head on the floor.
I was pulled into a deep and long sleep. My mind had completely gone blank for hours. I did not dream at all. All I remembered was that I was reading some papers about a pirate.
My mind began to awaken. I was drifting away from my deep slumber, but I awoke with a pounding pain in my head. My stomach hurt as well, and I felt terribly weak and heavy. I sat up and scratched my head, surveying my environment. My senses were coming to me too slowly. It was hard to grasp the feeling of it. I did notice that I was in my room, in my bed. My door was open, and the windows were open with the curtains drawn apart. The sky was overcast and covered with light gray clouds. A storm would come soon.
I averted my vision to my open door. I could hear delightful chatter and uprisings of laughter from the bottom floor. I took it that everyone was down there, but why?
My temporary weakness and exhaustion would not stop me from finding out. How could they be laughing when here I was with a gargantuan headache and a nauseous feeling rousing in my gut? "Mummy," I called, as I leaned out of my door way. I never called her 'mummy' unless I needed her badly. It was always just 'Mum.' "Mummy!" I yelled.
After screaming that out, I felt my stomach blow up with the urge to vomit. I immediately ran away from the opening to my room and barged into my washroom, dumping my stomach's contents into a wash basin. "Maggie will not be happy to find this in the morning," I thought. I sat my rump onto the hard floor and took a couple of deep breaths. Why was I feeling like this?
I felt tremendously better after my little session, but my head still throbbed. The voices from down below were getting louder, and they were joined by the thuds of shoes going up the stairs. I knew they heard my retching and of course would come up soon after to see how I was fairing.
Realizing that Mum and Dad were most likely not the only people coming up, I quickly wiped any trails of vomit on the sleeve of my dress and steadied myself on my feet. I walked over to my bed and collapsed into its brilliant softness. My eyes were set on the entrance of my room, waiting for them to come in and ask me how I was doing.
My hand felt the back of my dress, and I realized that it was pinned back up without my corset being tightened. I grinned with satisfaction. Perhaps that was why I could actually breathe normally. A young man barged into my room with a wide grin on his face. "Astrid!" he said. I raised and eyebrow and sat up in my bed, utterly bewildered. Who was he and how did he know my name?
Mum and Dad as well as a handful of servants and shockingly, Adam, came in soon after. I looked from face to face with a pinched, confused face. What the hell was going on? "Astrid!" the young man said again. He had dark brown hair and light brown, hazel-like eyes. He was dressed rather sloppily in a dark blue coat and dirty, loose white pants. "Hell…o," I said, still refusing to lift my perplexed look. I turned my head to Mum and Dad. "Who is he?" I asked, pointing a finger at him. Mum laughed at me and neared my bed, taking my hand in hers.
"Astrid, don't you remember who that is?" she asked.
"No," I replied simply. If I knew who he was, I wouldn't have been asking.
"Astrid!" the young man replied, barging between Mum and me. "Don't you remember me?" Nothing seemed familiar about him to me, but then again, my senses were returning to me very slowly.
"No," I said. "Who are you?" He looked at me and smiled, but he couldn't control his laughter and he burst out cackling hysterically. This annoyed me. Who was he to laugh at me just because I didn't remember something?
"C'mon, Astrid!" he laughed. "You got to remember me!" I didn't. His voice was somewhat deep but squeaky at some points. He must have gotten fed up with my inability to comprehend and gave the side of my head a good slap.
"What in the blazes did you do that for!" I yelled, finally finding my feet and standing up to challenge him. He was taller than me by a lot. Even Adam had not surpassed my height by as many inches as this young man had.
"To get you thinking, you stupid twit!" he replied, whacking my head again.
"What!" I screamed. I felt my face grow red from anger and he got the picture and took of flying out of my room. I followed after him in a flash. "I'll you back for this ya bloody pig!" I screamed, remembering that my parents were not far behind. I wanted to call him a bastard, but they would surely scold me for that.
"Not on your life!" he yelled back. I shrieked and quickened my pace. He ran down the stairs, but I took the short way and just slid down the banister, having grown used to it over the years.
I landed on the first floor first, and he quickly stopped himself and turned around. "Oh no you don't!" I yelled, racing up the stairs again. I was just inches away from grabbing his stupid little pony tail, when I stopped abruptly as a thought entered my mind. Stupid little pony tail. I had described something like that before. "ROLAND!" I screamed. He stopped and turned around with a wide grin.
"Who else, Ass…trid?" he laughed. With a gasp, I ran up and gave him a good hard punch on the arm.
"Ya bloody little idiot!" I said. I was about to add something, but I cut myself off, because now that I stood beside him, I realized he was much taller than me. We had always been the same height, at least until I turned twelve. After that, I was always taller than him. "Ya can't be Roland," I said.
"Why?" he asked, obviously still unaware of the point I was trying to make.
"You're taller than me." He smiled arrogantly and held his chin up high.
"Oh yes," he said. "Much taller. I can see the top of your head, little Astrid," he said. I growled, but I couldn't hold my grudge for long. It was good to see him again. "Oh yes," he said. "You gave Adam and me quite a nice welcoming show, Astrid," he said with a laugh. "You were dancing and wobbling about like a drunk. You even asked Adam to dance with you and the back of your dress was undone. Mum was furious." I blushed deeply and gave a nervous glance towards where Adam was standing with my beloved parents. He didn't seem to notice, and that was a great relief to me.
"Well," I said, after exchanging a couple of nervous, cheap laughs. "How was the sea… and oh yes, where is your darling little Alexandra?" Roland gave me an icy glare and I beamed in response.
"The sea was good," he said plainly, determined not to tell me the rest of his grand adventure, which he knew I'd be dying to hear. I was indeed very eager to hear his story. "As for Alexandra…"
"Did she fall overboard?" I asked eagerly.
"No," he replied strongly. "She grew attached to a midshipman on the ship and wanted nothing else to do with me."
"Oh really?" I said, happy with the news so far, but Roland had to ruin it for me.
"And that midshipman is Midshipman Roland William Turner," he said proudly.