Day 1 –
Neither the bright sunshine, nor the incessant chirping of birds could wake the young woman from her slumber. She had made sure to stay awake the entire night to watch the lanterns of the ships slink slowly away, only to disappear over the horizon, leaving all traces of their existence from this island.
Ma sœur Nation, ma sœur Nation,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous…?
"France?" The harsh sunlight flooded into her eyes and she rubbed them desperately, looking around for that head of blond hair. She sighed in disappointment as all that met her eyes was the endless blue sea. The same one France and his ships had disappeared into the night before.
She stood and stretched, groaning as her sore muscles protested. Well, it was her fault for sleeping on the cliff. Whatever had possessed her to do that? She giggled softly and sat down again, wrapping her arms around herself. She did remember that song, apparently. She wondered what it was called.
'Ma sœur Nation…' That was just too perfect for those to be the correct words. She wondered what the real words were.
She spent the rest of the day staring up at the clouds and pretending that they were ships and sails and anchors and maybe fancy hats.
Day 2 –
"Oh!" The young woman jumped up as an idea occurred to her. She ran to the place where she discarded her empty coconut shells and picked up one of the bigger ones. It easily spanned the width of her chest. The young woman remembered swelling with pride as France exclaimed that the coconuts on her island were the biggest he had ever seen. He had quickly gathered the rest of his men to examine them. She was special!
The young woman placed the empty coconut shell in the crevasse that almost divided the Thinking Rock so it wouldn't blow away. She then ran to the shoreline and collected two small shells. They really were small, but they were the ones engraved with the most detail; they were her favourite. She placed them carefully into the bottom of the husk – one for each day that France and his crew had been gone.
Satisfied, she stepped back. The palm leaves swayed lazily and the waves lapped at the sand, as if enticing her to join them. She waded in to her knees, but didn't splash around. She just didn't really feel like it for some reason.
The water reflectedthe pristine blue sky (yes, reflected is what France had told her the water does to change colours.) The water never really did change after all. It was just her surroundings.
Day 44 –
Plunk went the seashell into the coconut husk. And thud went the forehead of the young woman against the Thinking Rock. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Day 60 –
The young woman swished her blue dress around her shins and thought about the many wonderful stories France had told her. Like all of the different land masses around on the – the world known as Earth. She still had trouble wrapping her mind around this fact. France had told her that the world was a massive, massive sphere (which is like a ball, he said) and it takes many, many months to cross an ocean on a ship. Who knows how long it would take to travel around the world?
But, France had told her, technology is always changing and growing with the times. I have lived for a long time, ma chère, and I have seen this with my own eyes. Perhaps in a hundred years we will have strange machines to take us places. Who knows?
The young woman smiled sadly. She could still hear France's voice so clearly. But enough about France. Her thoughts strayed back to the wonderful stories he had told her.
She really wanted to visit Europe, she had decided. And not just because France's house existed there. Apparently it was really diverse and multi-cultural. And she liked the sound of that. But then again, that place that France talked about a lot that she couldn't remember the name of seemed nice too. She really wanted to know what snow felt like. And cold. France's description may have been insanely detailed and romantic (there was that word again), but the young woman just didn't have a clue. Yes, actually, she wanted to go to that place again – that place that belonged to France.
Oh, France...
She was beginning to wonder if she was turning all of these stories into mere distractions...
Day 81 –
Much to her relief, the young woman found herself getting used to the concept of solitude. This being strange because this used to be her life, right? Did living beings really change her attitude that much?
Oh well. They weren't here anymore and they wouldn't be for a long time.
She nodded and returned to her task of cleaning the fish she had recently caught. Its scales scintillated in the dying embers of the sun and she was suddenly reminded of that fish – that fish she had seen a long time ago. She had never seen it since.
The young woman laughed softly and looked out into the ocean, (the Indian Ocean, France had told her) half-expecting that same fish to make itself known to her somehow. But nothing happened and the sun eventually dipped and disappeared beyond the horizon (it did that 'cause the Earth turned, France had told her.)
She continued to clean the fish and laid it aside once she had finished. She grimaced at her hasty work. It definitely wasn't her best. But it would have been worse if she continued to do it in the dark.
She retrieved the modified flintlock pistol that France had given her from the pocket of her dress and set it down beside her.
She skipped daintily into the trees and collected branches; small and gradually increasing in size. She walked back down to the beach and arranged his collection into a triangular formation and proceeded to light a fire with her modified pistol (France had taught her how; he was really quite intelligent.)
When the fire was hot enough, she laid the fillets on a slab of rock to cook them. She smiled as she remembered the look on France's face when she had cooked this for him. He even admitted to the fact that they were very good. And he was supposedly the best cook ever? Hah!
She sat and ate simply recalled late into the night.
Day 82 –
The next day she was walking on the beach and she happened to glance up. And saw a ship! Careful not to draw attention to herself, she climbed up onto the Thinking Rock and observed.
Hmm.
The big colourful flap-y thing on the ship was different than France's. It had the same colours, but it was...different. More complicated. It seemed…familiar – like she had seen it before? She wondered who it could be. And what those big flap-y things were called and what they meant.
She flopped down onto the rock and watched the ship like a hawk until it was only a speck in the distance.
She would just have to ask France next time.
Day 117 –
Nothing much happened over the next while. Seashells went plunk and the young lady's forehead refrained from going thud. That was about it.
Day 129 –
The young woman sat huddled in her little cave, listening to the wind moan and shake the palm trees all around her. This rarely happened, but when it did the young woman knew to take shelter in her cave, away from any blowing debris.
Luckily, she had remembered to scoop up the coconut with the seashells in it. She didn't know what she would do if they had all scattered. But then again, there wasn't much of a point to aimlessly collecting seashells every day now, was there. But it was still special to her. She would just leave it at that.
She listened to the roar outside and hoped that anyone on a ship out there was okay. Not just France, but anyone.
She didn't know it, but a fleet of ships did get caught in a storm such as this, long ago. It made an emergency anchoring on one of her islands to the East. A long time ago.
Day 143 –
The young woman found a flap-y thing that goes on ships floating in a little pool and snatched it up before the untameable tide could sweep it away.
She studied it intently as if the patterned red white and blue was some sort of code that, if she solved it, could tell her everything she needed and wanted to know about where it came from. She frowned as she remembered that she had seen this before...on that one ship that one day she had seen and watched and tracked a while ago that wasn't France's. The one that had come ashore - for the first time - before even France. She wondered what he would say to that.
Who did this ship and flap-y thing belong to? Whoever it was, they must be powerful enough to be able to travel the seas so freely. And they came here… Did she want them to come back? Was France not enough?
No, she decided – France wasn't enough. She had finally, after hundreds of years received a taste of, of, well...a living, breathing person for one thing. But also to the stories of countless others and their accomplishments – so much so that she found herself hungrily wanting more, more, more until she overflowed, because that would be okay. She would rather uncomfortably overflow with knowledge than be contently empty with just herself.
Heh. Funny how things changed. The young woman remembered how alive freedom used to make her feel. How she used to be able to survive on nothing but the fact that she could do anything, anywhere, anytime. Which was still valid, of course. But now she knew that she could only do this confined to her island. And this deflated her excitement somewhat.
She stroked the red, white and blue fabric, curling it around her fingers and running it over her hands. It was tattered from the effects of the sea, but the design was still discernable.
Whoever you are...do you know who I am?
Day 179 –
By now she had the design of the unknown flap-y thing memorized.
First a cross. Then two diagonal lines from corner to corner, but they go underneath the cross. The red is surrounded by a thin layer of white and the eight remaining triangles are blue.
The young woman looked, blank faced at her design in the sand. It looked very plain without the colours. Not what it should look like. Oh well. At least it was more complex than France's.
She grinned at the thought of France angrily insulting this flap-y thing and scolding her for comparing it to his own stunning (simple) one. Her smile slowly ebbed away into a thoughtful expression. Maybe these flap-y things represented countries. But did they represent the personified nations or the land masses themselves?
Day 200 –
The young woman poked at her chest. It was growing, she noticed. Two spots in particular. She wondered why.
Day 225 –
According to France there were some people who stole ships and preyed upon merchant sailors to plunder or pillage any possible valuables. Les pirates, he called them. Vile beings they were...caring not for any unfortunate soul that crossed their paths.
But France had voiced particular contempt for the, the...oh what did he call them again? Oh, right! The privateers. He said that these men hide their wrongdoings under the name of the King (who was some of the countries' boss, France had said.)
The young woman shook her head in bemused disbelief. Sure, these privateers sounded fairly rude, but did he really need to go on and on about them? Sheesh... It was like he had some sort of grudge against whoever gave the orders to these men...
Day 260 –
Her flintlock pistol had run out of powder. The young lady sighed and set it aside and went to find two sturdy sticks to rub together. When she did, she rubbed them in rhythm to the only song she knew that had a real beat.
« Frère Nation, frère Nation,
Ou es-tu? Ou es-tu?
Je voix les vagues seulement, je voix les vagues seulement,
Plouf plouf plouf, plouf plouf plouf… »
Day 300 –
She shivered despite the balmy weather. Weird…
She splashed her feet playfully in the water. Plouf, plouf, plouf.
Day 330 –
France had taught her about the calendar. How there were certain days in a week (She had them memorized) and a certain amount of weeks in a month and a certain amount of months (she had them memorized, too!) in a year and the year he had left was 1742, and he said it was November (which was late in the year, right?) so it must be at least 1743 by now.
She knew that there were three hundred and sixty five days in a year and she must be pretty close to that now…
The young woman really couldn't wait any longer to find out, so she jogged over to the Thinking Rock and wiggled the coconut husk out of its crevasse and dumped the little seashells onto the sand further inland, careful not to lose any.
And she counted and she counted and she counted until she reached three hundred and thirty days, er, shells – which meant that there were only thirty five more days to go before a whole, entire year would have gone by!
She grinned and gathered up the seashells back into the husk and wedged it tightly into the crevasse. She would need another one soon, she noted. It was getting kind of full.
Day 365 –
The young woman dropped the last seashell of the year into the now full coconut husk. She stared into the mass of shells and tipped her head to the side, contemplative. She wanted to do something with these shells instead of them just lying there. She…she wanted them to be more than just there – in the way – not special.
So after a moment more of thought, she collected some palm leaves from the jungle and slowly made her way back to the beach. She had so much time, after all.
She scooped up a handful of shells and started to connect them together by weaving them gently through twisted palm fronds. Her hands glided over her work with the utmost care. There was no need to rush, and besides – this was going to be a gift. She would present it to him in a year or so, and he'd better like it!
She sighed softly and hummed a tune of her own this time. She did not stop what she was doing, not even to wipe a stray tear that was sliding slowly down her cheek. She smiled the whole time and laughed shakily, pouring out her joy, her hope, her (dare she say it) friendship into her fingers – warmly weaving, winding, wreathing, working.
AN - Love this chapter. :)
Translations: Ma sœur Nation, ma sœur Nation, Sister Nation, Sister Nation
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous Do you sleep? Do you sleep?
Frère Nation, frère Nation, Brother Nation, Brother Nation
Ou es-tu? Ou es-tu? Where are you? Where are you?
Je voix les vagues seulement, je voix les vagues seulement I only see the waves, I only see the waves
Plouf plouf plouf, plouf plouf plouf… Splash splash splash
Three guesses as to what 'les pirates' are. :P And dont'cha just love French onomatopoeias? I know I do.
Footnotes: The coconut of the Coco de Mer (remember the palm trees?) is the largest coconut in the world with a length of about 40-50 cm (about 17 -20 inches) and a weight of 15 - 30 kg (33 - 66 pounds). Yeah. Holy shit. Haha, their nicknames include the 'Bum Coconut' and the 'Love Nut.' Awesome.
1743 + 100 years isn't that far off for said 'strange machines.' I believe the first automobile was built and patented in 1885. L'il side note.
The first lighter ever used was a converted flintlock pistol that used gunpowder to create sparks in the 16th century. I guess it worked...
Oh, right. The storm. Seychelles is not within the cyclone belt, so strong winds are pretty unusual, but not impossible. Apparently - waaaay back in 1608 - a British fleet got stranded in a storm on one of Seychelles' islands; not Mahé. That's what prompted the British to send out the Ascension, which was mentioned back in chapter one. As well as Arthur. :D Thought I'd mention it in the story because that was basically what started it all. 'All' being the exploration of Seychelles.
Okay - slight controversy. I've labled Seychelles here as a young woman. But, clearly, she's just getting boobies - to be blunt. Imma stick with it though... Key word = young. Also, I'm lazy. :D
You guys all know the story about England and his privateers, right? Right? Ugh - long story short - privateers = pirates. But with a different name. And they acted under the Kind/Queen, stealing/looting for the benefit of England, but got let off the hook because they were only acting under orders.
I leik them alliterationz. :B Also, come to Canada. It's preeeetty sweet. Oh, and reviews would be nice. Thanks for the support!