Chapter 38: Confession of Origin
"What?" I exclaimed, slowly rising from my seat. "What do you mean I'm not your daughter?" I said, my voice rising with panic. My ears had blocked off what Daddy had just said to me. It was unreal and cruel. I was already hurt enough by Adam, and I would not open my mind and heart to more pain from the people I loved.
"Astrid, calm down," said Daddy, nearing me and placing his hands on my shivering shoulders. "You are not our true daughter. We adopted you." When I looked into that face I could not find the face of my father. He was lost to me. My real father would never tell me I was not theirs. He would tell me that I would belong to them forever, but no. This man had told me I was no one. I was not a Turner, nor a Swann. I was… nothing.
"Then who am I?" I demanded, rising from my seat again and breaking my hand away from Mum's. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because it's the truth, Astrid! And you have to know it!" Daddy looked pleadingly at me, and the strength of spirit he had represented so well in my childhood was showing a clear crack that would lead to complete deterioration, but his wounded face would not change my mind. I struggled under his grip, feeling locked in a box that I would never be let out of. Crying in desperation, I spoke my confused and swirling mind .
"No. No, it's not. I'm your daughter, aren't I? Please tell me that you're wrong and that you did not mean what you just said," I whimpered, my eyes engorged with water waiting to spill from my eyes. Eyes that were not Mum's or Dad's. No. They belonged to some unknown stranger that was kept hidden from my knowledge for so many agonizing years.
"I do not deny what I said, Astrid," said Daddy vehemently. "I spoke the truth. You are not our daughter. We adopted you through the request of a friend who was your true father. He loved you so much that he wanted to give you a better life, and he believed we could do it for him. So we took you in. By law you are our daughter, but not by blood. Your blood is not a Turner's or Swann's, Astrid," he said gravely. My eyes could not dam the liquid anguish any longer and they streamed out of my eyes in unending streaks of transparent sorrow.
"Then who am I?" I screamed. "Why have you come to tell me that I don't belong to this family? Why are you telling me that what I have believed and accepted for so long was nothing but a sack of lies? Why, Daddy? Why!"
"Because we loved you so much, Astrid!" he said, his grip on my shoulders tightening as I tried to break free. "After what you had to go through, being left behind by your own father, we could not help but surround you in happiness until your heart was content. And if we reminded you that you were never ours to begin with, then we'd fail in showing you the love that a growing child needed at that time."
"Then who am I? What am I?" I sobbed, completely ignoring what Daddy had just said. His argument weakened and he stepped back, hesitating to say the most important part of the admission. And his silent, but open mouth was left inarticulate, obviously too pained to continue with the well-needed confession. "Say what you need to and be done with it!" I wailed, too confused and wounded from the dire words being sent to my deaf ears. They said what I never expected for them to hear, and therefore I would hear none of it.
"You are the daughter of a pirate," said Mum at last, sobbing just as badly as I was. "Your mother was a prostitute from Tortuga, and your father was a pirate and friend of ours. Your father was Captain Jack Sparrow, Astrid." My ears were opened directly after she said that, eating the information like a hungry beast, and interrupting the memories of a world I thought I knew.
My heart stopped, and I felt as if I was smacked severely on the head with a stone of bestial veracity.
All my questions were answered. Everything made sense at once, but the rush of truth into my brain was too strong, too painful, too powerful to endure and understand cleanly and tolerably. And to add to the torment of my parents, I rose from my seat silently and stormed out of the parlor, up the stairs I knew so well, and shut myself in the room I had grown up in one last time.
Jack. Jack was my father. I was the daughter of a ruthless pirate and a whore from Tortuga. "Splendid," I mumbled miserably into my arms. I had huddled myself on the window seat in my room and stared out into the environment that used to be mine.
When I had retreated to my room in awful silence, the first thing I did as soon as I was behind closed doors was weep, for I had finally discovered what I was, but every so slowly it came to my attention that it meant nothing to me. I was the daughter of a pirate and a whore, and yet the truth did not give me the pleasurable tingle of finally finding my place in society. It only made me feel all the more lost and low, for what type of person would be proud of criminal pirate blood and the disgraceful blood of a whore? Pirate blood was in me, but what did that prove? A prostitute's blood was in me, and did that mean that I would end up a whore as well? I had already made tremendous progress as one if that were the case, but why had I lost touch with the pirate side of myself? Why did I ever forget Jack?
Sharky will let Astrid go, if Astrid will learn to let Sharky go.
"Was that what he meant?" I asked myself. "Did he want me to forget him? To deny what I really was?" My face was dry, and my heart was finally free from any pressure. I knew what I was now, but I still did not knowwho I was. I wished that Jack could have at least visited me or at least written to me to keep the pirate in me alive, but it faded. I did not know Jack. I could not remember him anymore, for Will and Elizabeth had doused my puny little five year old mind with better memories at that time. Memories of love and merriment that any young girl would have been thankful for, but I took everything for granted.
My eyes were fixed on the horizon I thought I would never reach, but now I rejected the belief that certain dreams and fantasies were impossible, for unquestionably anything was feasible. If I could learn that I was the daughter of a pirate, one thing I thought I would never discover, then I could very well go out to sea at last and grab hold of that horizon myself. A dangerous task it would be to finally answer the sea's call, for I was a woman. And as Adam said some long time ago, women were not allowed on ships. But Adam was wrong about many things. Perhaps not too many things, but he was wrong in his love for me. He said he'd marry me one day, and yet he had called me a few words I thought he would never say which only supported my belief all the more. Anything indeed held potential to become reality.
For nine years, I lived in a wonderful place called Port Royal, full of sophisticated and grand ladies and gentlemen that gave the British port an unbreakable name and reputation. But to think I thought I belonged to this place was irrefutably a stupid thing to do. True, I lived there for so many a year, but during those years, no matter how hard I tried to be lady, I never accomplished the goal. Society still managed to find my faults and shun me for them. Well, the sea would never do that to me. I had heard its pleas to reclaim me as an inhabitant since I was five years old, and it would not dare shun what it had been calling for so long. Perhaps it was time for me to answer that call.
The sun was coming low unto the sky, and the bright yellow rays began to transform into darker shades of gold and red. A knock would come on my door, and a voice would say that it was time to eat supper, but I would not be at the table when the Turners sat down for their meal. Turner was not in my blood. I did not act like a Turner, or a Swann, despite the fact that I grew up under that household. I forgot my place in society too often. Roland never did such a thing. He knew when it was appropriate to be unrestrained and when to be conventional. He was able to control himself, while I on the other hand, found it difficult to ever let an adventurous and different opportunity pass me by. As much as I loved Will, Elizabeth and Roland, I had to draw a thin line between us. Daughter I may have been to them, but there was an evident difference between Turner and Sparrow. Sparrow was in my blood, and blood lasted forever. One particular Sparrow had already spread its wings and flown away to claim true freedom, and so would another.
Jack's blood ran in my veins but I knew nothing about him. Over the years he had slowly corroded from my memory, leaving me to believe that I was a Turner. If he supposedly loved me then why did he never write? Why did he leave me to hopelessly attempt to blend in with high-class culture? Fathers never did that to their children. Parents were supposed to love their children forever, no matter what the child had done. What did I do so long ago that forced Jack to leave me behind? I barely even remembered the man. All I had were strange bits of dreams or possible memories that floated around my head spontaneously, and I felt that the only reason why I remembered the few memories was because I focused on remembering them. The one thing I recalled with the most description was the day he left me.
"Yo ho. Yo ho. A pirate's life for me," I breathed unenthusiastically. I had known the song since I could remember. It must have been my lullaby when I was still with Jack, which would explain why it was embedded into my brain for all eternity. Whenever I sang it, or thought about it, I felt relieved, and now I knew why.
The sky was cooling to a deep shade of violet, and I already made the decision in my mind to leave. I was not angry at Will or Elizabeth. No. They had done what any parent would do. They told me the truth, and although they informed me of my origins quite late in my life, it was still better than not knowing at all. I was leaving for other reasons. I would never find who I was, or what I meant, or what good I'd ever be to other people in Port Royal. No. This place was not for me. I'd go out to find Jack. He'd tell me who I was, what I meant, what I was worth. He was my father, and he should have considered before he left me that I was like him. I'd go wherever the wind would blow me. I'd find him since he had not come to find me. It was about time that a reunion between us had taken place.
I left my window seat with a sigh and staggered to my bed. Before I left I wanted to think everything out thoroughly, for surely the quest to find Jack would not be an easy one. How on earth would I get on a ship? Would I even know what to do when I got there? Where on earth was Jack? Would he even remember me as I remembered him? I shook my head and more questions erupted in my mind. A good sleep would do me good, and so I laid my head on my pillow and closed my eyes to dream about the life that waited for me on the sea.
I woke with a gasp, for surely the possible dangers that lied on the sea were all too haunting. My brow was damp from sweat and my hair had loosened into a bush of wild curls. Swiftly, I turned my head to my window to make sure I had not woken too late to begin my journey. The sky was black as fresh hot ashes in a hearth, and the white moon revealed half of its face in the murky dark. Clouds skidded across the black mantle in streaks of grey, shielding whatever light the stars and moon could have possibly been giving. It would be a dull and bleak day when the sun rose, and there was not a moment to lose.
Assuming that the time was shortly after midnight, I hurried to my wardrobe and pulled out my pirate gear and set it on my bed. I checked all of them to make sure I had not forgotten any part of the set, for they would all be essential in my plot. There were my trousers, vest, shirt, coat, boots and hat. For a second, I was about to gather them up and stuff them into a leather sack, but I changed my mind. My old pirate clothes from when I was twelve were still in my wardrobe but I only took the vest that came with it. It would be important in my disguise.
With my pirate clothing, I took some spare cloth that lay in a basket in my closet. Maggie sewed often in my room making stockings or fixing dresses for me. The extra cloth would do me good if my pirate garb tore and ripped on the voyage. Along with everything I had already gathered, I threw in my undergarments of course, a needle and two spools of thread. Again, I thanked Maggie for never taking her sewing items out of my room and ran to my vanity to see what possessions were worth taking.
I ended up taking a few documents of Jack with me. Not a lot, but just a few to remind me of why I was out on sea, for I surely forgot my duties at times and forgetting to look for Jack would not be one of them. I promised that to myself. My hairbrush was left behind, but I did take one washcloth with me. I may have had a pirate for a father, but that did not mean I was going to be dirty. After gathering everything in my room that I would take with me, I undressed and put on my pirate clothes. The small vest I had when I was a little girl I fastened over my chest to hide what was there. It was tight and would definitely be hard to get used to, but it was heaven compared to the pain from a corset. Apparently, the small vest was not enough to hide my décolletage, but I would solve the matter later. It was the least of my problems at the moment.
Dressed like a man, or rather, a pirate, and with a leather sack full of cloth, thread, a needle, navigating supplies, some maps and papers about Jack, I threw the sack over my shoulder and headed out of my room… very quietly. To my relief, no one was awake or around when I stepped out. The candles usually lighting the hallway were blown out and the windows provided the only source of light, which was very little. I had to get to the kitchen to get food, go into Grandfather's study and grab parchment, pen and ink, and then head out of the door. But, the dark house made it difficult to complete such a mission with ease. My vision was badly impaired in the dark, but I would not risk lighting a candle.
My hand used the sleek banister of the stairs to guide me down to the bottom floor, and the smoothness of the wood reminded me of all the times I slid down it for fun. There would be no more of that now. I was almost to the last stair when I heard a whisper behind me. "Astrid!" it said. "Wait!" Shocked, I turned around and in the dark I saw Roland's pale face at the top of the stairs. If I had seen correctly, he was dressed as if he was about to leave as well.
"What are you doing?" I whispered back, irritated that my plan was not going so well.
"I'm going with you," he said simply, joining me at the stair I stood on. He held in his hands a sack and a broad smile was on his face. Silly Roland, this journey is mine and mine alone. "You gave me your word that one day, if Jack never came to get you that we'd go out to sea to find him. You're not going to go back on your word, now are you?" I frowned and continued walking down the stairs, ignoring his words.
"I never even said such a thing, Roland," I muttered as I snuck into the kitchen.
"Yes, you did," he answered, and by the loudness of his voice I knew he was still following me. "Remember? It was the night where you pushed Matthew into the mud and I took his side. You became downright steamed about it and wouldn't talk to me during dinner. But then when we went out to the gardens, you—"
"You still remember that?" I interrupted, poking my head into the pantry and grabbing a loaf of bread that was probably baked before Lisa went to sleep.
"Of course I do. I knew that when I read those papers about Jack that someone had mentioned the name to me before. Here," he said, tossing me an apple in the dark. I didn't see it and it landed on the floor in a clunk.
"Shh!" I hissed. "I want to leave unnoticed and you are making it too obvious that we are sneaking out."
"So you are going to let me come?" he smiled.
"Fine. I remember that I did say that we'd find Jack one day. So hurry up. Get what you need and then we are out." After packing two or three more items of food into our sacks, we left the kitchen and I led the way to Grandfather's office. To my luck, it was locked.
"Dammit," I muttered. "How the hell am I supposed to write a farewell letter to Will and Elizabeth?" Hairpins, Miss. Oh, bless you, Maggie! I dropped to the ground and peered into the hole that was in the office doorknob. "Roland, go up to my room and grab my hairpins from my vanity. Do it quickly and quietly."
"Aye, Captain," he snickered and left to do as he was told. The lad was getting a tad bit too excited for his own good.
When he returned I shoved one hairpin into the hole in the doorknob and told Roland to shut up so I could listen for the lock. The pin became stuck in something and I pushed it harder in and there came the musical 'click.' I pushed the door gently so as not to make the hinges creak, and Roland and I crept into the dark office. "Why are we here again?" asked Roland, taking off his midshipman's hat.
"I need paper, ink and a quill, brother," I replied trying to find Grandfather's desk in the dim. "I will not leave this house until I have written my good-byes."
"I never thought of that," said Roland. "But I guess your farewells could also serve as mine. I am, after all, joining you on this journey."
"How did you even know I was leaving?" I asked, finding the desk at last and snatching a handful of parchment and stuffing it into my sack.
"Well, you forget that we grew up together, Astrid. I know you. All this time you have been wondering where you'd end up. You always spoke about the sea and how you loved it so much even though you did not know how it connected to you. And well… now you do. Now you know who your father is. Now you know where you belong." He took care of the ink and quill and handed it to me.
"No, I don't," I said gruffly, snatching the materials from his hands. "All I know is that the sea has the answers to all my questions, so that is where I am going." He shrugged and suddenly handed me a blank book. I stared at it reluctantly but did not question him and stuffed the book in my sea bag and together we exited the office. But I wasn't about to leave just yet. There was a letter I needed to write.