Chapter 9 – Fin

The rotting smell of rodents filled the air. Anne’s hair was filthy, sticking to her dirty clothes. The entire scene was pitiful, there she was, a woman, a person, a pirate restrained to shackles in a shell, a prison. The chains themselves were merely instruments of the system she so desperately wanted to see brought to its knees. Had she taken on the dreaded word – ideology?

Was she fighting for something larger than herself? None of that really mattered now, here she was, sitting on the eve of her execution. The thought alone frightened her into either submission or into vehement anger. Could she accept her execution? What else was there to do.

Beside her was the only thing she could be empathetic to: Mary Read. She was in the same boat as Anne. Confident, female, pirate. In a certain way she looked up to Mary. In another way she despised her for having an affair with her husband. But was it really worth the fraternity she created? Anne dismissed all of these wild thoughts and focused on the task at hand: escape.

“Mary. Wake up.” Mary slowly opened her eyes and let out a sound of groaning mixed with agitation.

“What is it.” She groggily replied.

“I have a plan to escape.” Anne could sense the slow kindle being placed within Mary’s mind. All she had to do was light it. “Look, if we say we’re pregnant then they can’t execute us.”

“How the hell are we going to get pregnant.” Mary fired back, looking down at her feet, shackled, and then back at Anne.

“That’s not important. We just need to buy some time.” The kindling grew to a small fire. Any amount of hope was enough to keep Mary from falling into hopeless despair.

Anne surveyed her surroundings again. All she could see was the sleeping guard lit by the light of a small a candle. He was sitting in his chair, neglecting his duty.

“Oh my! I’m feeling a terrible sensation in my gut!” Anne yelled, the entire prison erupted in mixed cries to shut up. The guard awoke.

“What’s all this racket?” He said, tipping his hat back to its normal position and wiping the drool dripping from his lips.

“Oh my, please Mr. Help me! I think I’m…pregnant.” Anne said, grasping her stomach. Mary clasped hers as well.

“Oh gosh I am too!” Mary grunted to signify just how much pain she felt.

The soldier walked closer to the bars to get a closer look at the grunting women. Anne stood up and approached the bars.

“Please, you have to help.” She said, reaching her hands out to the soldier.

“Shut up wench! Let me get the commander. You two be quiet now.” The soldier brushed her hands off of him and turned around. He clumsily marched down the corridor until he was eventually out of sight.

“Anne, he went away. They’re going to find out eventually.” Mary picked at the shackles.

“Not if we have this.” Anne said, holding a small golden key. She couldn’t help but smile. In her hand was the key to her freedom, to her life.

“You rotten bastard.” Mary said, trying to hold back her amazement. Anne worked quickly to undo the shackles on her own feet and on Mary. She placed it in the lock to the cell and opened the door. The two walked as silently as possible, trying not to bring attention to them. Anne’s mind was rushing with adrenaline. She could feel inside of her the bonfire raging. She could feel the call to freedom as a bell ringing in the distance.

“Hey stop right there!” The cry of a soldier came from behind them.

“Quick! Run!” Anne said as the two renegade pirates burst into a sprint down the corridors. The soldier ran after them, pursuing them into the darkness of the prison.

Anne ran as fast as she could, remembering the sands of Cork and how the boundlessness of the world around her gave her energy.

“Quick, in here!” Anne and Mary dove into a small cloister, hoping to throw off the soldier pursuing them. “This seems like a tunnel.” Anne said, pushing the small stones away to reveal an opening used by the builders to provide air in the case of a cave in. The two pirates worked there way down the tunnel, feeling the walls of the cave squeezing their will into a burning passion to escape.

A light drew nearer, the cave opened up –  it was the reflection of the moon on the water. There it was: the Caribbean in all of its boundless glory. Anne felt the air dance around her hair. She could smell the sea air waltz along the water and trickle into her nose. Here it was. Freedom.

Chapter 8 -Caged in

October 1720. The salty air funneled into Anne’s nostrils as she took to the side of the ship. A heavy fog rolled across the water and tumbled around the ship as it creakily pushed forward into the mysterious sea. Anne’s hands gripped the side of the ship, the craggy wood felt hard beneath her hands as she squinted, trying to discern something of the dense cloud surrounding the ship.

“Anne…hey…how are …. what are you..doing?”The broken voice of a sailor came from behind her. Turning to see him, Anne immediately understood his shaky tone – he was incredibly drunk. Moving about, unable to hold his stance, really the whole thing was quite pathetic. Holding one glass in one hand and gripping a hanging rope with the other, the sailor stumbled closer to Anne.

“Is there a party I wasn’t invited to?” Anne fired quickly, moderately disgusted with the indulgent sailor.

“Ha ha. Oh I know you folk love parties.” His laugh bubbled out of his throat mixed with hiccups and the primal stages of heaving.

Anne was stunned. What did he mean by “you folk” she wondered. Did he know? How could he know?

“Don’t think I’ve never seen you undressed before. Ha ha. You have quite the…body.” He stumbled forward, inching unbearably closer to Anne. “But I won’t tell anybody if you were to get down on your knees and…”

Anne pulled out her pistol, aimed, and fired at the sailor. He fell to the floor, his glass shattering along with his soul. Anne looked around and holstered her pistol. She took the body and cast it over the side.

She could hear footsteps getting louder from under the deck and rising to the top as they came closer. Among the first was John Rackham, her captain.

“What happened?” He managed to get out. He was clearly drinking, but not as drunk as the sailor.

“I had some business to attend to. Nothing to worry about.” The rest of the sailors surrounding Rackham were among the most despicable sort of people imaginable. All holding some liquid, presumably all alcoholic.

Anne looked out at the sea again, noticing a small darkness among the fog. It grew larger…and larger…and larger until she could finally make it out. She barely had enough time to scream, “It’s the King’s Navy!”

Gunpowder filled the air, cannonballs whirred about as the British ship dominated the lowly pirate sloop. Anne immediately began to bark orders, Rackham meagerly made his way around giving orders, not as clear as Anne’s though. The pirates dashed into a frenzy of handling their alcohol and fighting off the formidable British Navy sloop, now under the command of Jonathon Barnet.

Ropes attached with hooks descended upon the pirate ship, clasping on to the side of it, entangling it in a web. The British sailors swarmed the ship, infecting it with the dazzling red uniforms of their countrymen. The hive of sailors began to ferociously butcher the sailors, all too drunk to put up a reasonable retaliation. The only pirate devoted to fending off the British pests was Anne and Mary Read. Together they had sword in hand, holding back the British from completely capturing the pirate ship. All around them pirates dropped like flies, succumbing to the brutish fight for dominance.

“Ah!” Rackham screamed. He looked down to see his left leg contorted as blood seeped out of it. A bullet was a nasty thing to take, especially in a fight where agility and mobility are key.

“John!” Anne exclaimed. Rushing to her lover. “We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t abandon these men.” He retorted, looking out at the hellish landscape.

“To hell with these men. Can’t you see they’re too drunk to fight?” She grabbed his chest and pulled him closer, hoping to knock him out of the trauma he was in.

“Anne look out!” Mary Read called out, but it was too late. Behind her was a British soldier, his gun cocked back, ready to strike at Anne. He hit her with the butt of the gun, knocking her unconscious. The whole scene went black.

Chapter 7 -Alas Adventure

Anne stood on the deck of the ship, her pistol was heavy against her hip. The tarnished metal outlined the darkened wood. She was finally here, finally where she wanted. Surrounded by smoke and gunpowder. The flapping of her ship’s flag was remarkably loud despite the chaos of the cries around her. The Royal Navy was, in her modest opinion, absolute cowards who could barely hold their own in a fight.

There was something about the flag that caught Anne’s eye. Was it the foreboding skull? The reminder of death? Or was it the crossing swords? The symbol of war, conflict, pain. Anne looked to it with pride. There was her identity – wrapped in a black flag. There she would find herself swaddled in its care.

Her ship, the Revenvge, wasn’t a remarkable ship. It was, however, dangerously fast and deceptively lethal. It was her lover’s, Captain Rackham’s ship. There was something in Rackham that she never got with James. Some sense of bravado, adventure, or something as primal as raw lust. Anne felt an immense conflict brewing within her: to remain independent or to give way to that of her emotions? The conflict between reason and emotions was all too common. Everyone had always told her to be a lady, to sit properly, to act properly, but Anne couldn’t hold those constraints. She could barely hold them enough to dismiss them entirely. Her affair with Rackham now tested those dangerous waters. Would she be able to remain herself while also intimately connected with a man? She couldn’t know, and neither could he. They had equal hands at the moment, she thought.

She remembered the whole excursion too. She remembered how Rackham had offered to “pay for her divorce.” This made her blood boil, steaming her thoughts and brewing hatred for it. Was she merely property? Even to someone who confessed his love? Did love go insofar as utility? She escaped with Rackham and they both sailed away on the Revenge but she never forgot how humiliating the thought of being bought was. She was more than property, more than lust, more than a pirate. She was an individual, fierce, brave, and strong. No one could convince her to lower her worth or to bow her head. Even as she stands amidst the chaos of battle, she thought of her position with Captain Rackham and how unsettled it made her feel. Perhaps she would learn to let go of this unsettled feeling, or perhaps it would evolve into something far more dangerous – motivation.

Chapter 6 – Taverns and Tightropes

The bright sand of Nassau gave way under Anne’s feet as she stood on the beach. She looked around and saw hundreds of fleeting vessels moving this way and that. All with a purpose – probably nefarious she presumed. She and her husband, James, moved here for the king’s pardon that was rumored. She had heard it on the ship and didn’t give it much thought until she ended up killing British soldiers. She shuddered at the thought of it. Was she really a killer? A wanton? A…pirate? She flushed the thoughts out of her mind and once again looked out to the vast plains of the sea that lay before her. To her back was dense foliage; greens and browns plastered all along the dense jungle.

“Anne, you coming in?” The grinding voice of her husband pierced the silent scene. Anne looked back, her hair followed with her. There was her husband. She had grown tired of him on the voyage. He was more of a nuisance than anything else – constantly second guessing Anne, always needing validation as a male. The whole lot was entirely too much work for a woman like Anne.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.” Anne retorted, glancing back at the ocean only to solemnly turn back and head towards the tavern.

The tavern was the place to be on New Providence island. Never would you find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. The air was repugnant, the drinks barely drinkable, the food passed was inedible, but still it had the one thing no pirate could do without – alcohol. Merry bands of men filled the tavern, creating a disastrous cacophony of story-telling, seduction of prostitutes, and ordering of more alcohol. Anne was immediately enthralled by the entire picture.

Anne made her way to the bartender, a stout fellow with a bushy moustache plotted right underneath his nose.

“I’ll have a pint.” Anne said.

“Who? You? A pint?” The bartender let out a ridiculous laugh. It was a mixture of condescension and rudeness and Anne was not having a good enough day to handle it.

“Hey, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She said undoing her shirt, revealing her breasts, much to the bartender’s enjoyment. She opened her shirt further to reveal a pistol. Quickly the bartender looked away and began working on Anne’s alcoholic request.

“And don’t even think about telling my secret, if you know what’s best for you.” She buttoned her shirt back and sat down. There was a man looking at her now from across the bar. He was dangerously handsome. The kind of man you desperately want to meet  but you don’t want to know. He had a dark coat dotted with golden buttons. Atop the whole look was a tricorn hat with some insignia Anne couldn’t quite make out. He took a large gulp of his drink and haphazardly made his way to Anne. She became moderately flustered – much to her dismay.

“I saw your little display…miss” The pirate hissed at her. His breath was rotten – like onions and rum.

“What do you mean, mate?” She fired back, hesitantly.

“Oh don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Who are you?” Anne asked, leaning in.

“The name’s Rackham. John Rackham.” The name was like silver upon his lips. It came out so cleanly for such a scummy pirate. Still, Anne couldn’t help but feel attracted to him. She hated that about herself.

“Why don’t you say we get ourselves a room and discuss a…job opportunity.” His voice called out once more and Anne could hardly resist. The two got up and went up the creaky stairs to an empty room. The whole thing was filled with a scene of disrepair, but Anne was focused more on the enigma before her – John Rackham.

“I’ll be frank with you…”

Anne coughed. “Anne…”

“I’ll be frank with you Anne. I like your fire. I need more of that to stir my men up to fight. How about you come with me and we’ll see every land on this Earth and every adventure in it?” God he was good Anne thought. He didn’t look like a salesman but he sure knew how to make a pitch.

He outstretched his arm, his hand fully erect. She hesitated for a moment, not sure how to respond. What would she tell James? What would he think? Oh to hell with James! She met his hand and shook it. She had sealed her fate, rolled the die. The adventure was just getting started.

Chapter 5 – A pirate who was; A pirate to be

The brittle sea air whisked around the hull of the ship as it moved silently through the sleepy ocean. It cradled the ship as it gently rocked back and forth, rocking about on the cool waters of the Atlantic. The clouds moved slowly overhead, casting a warm shadow on Anne as she stood on the deck – her eyes closed and her face upwards to the sky, acknowledging the blissful scene.

The ropes attached to the various sails were held taut as they pulled against the strength of the winds propelling the vessel towards their destination – Nassau. There James had work and Anne anticipated every moment of it was childlike wonder.

“Hey Anne, give me a hand with this” A voice cried out behind her. There was her husband, James, pathetically struggling to clean the deck. The murky water and rag he was using was obviously not working.

“You want me to clean? What, because I’m good at cleaning? Or is it because I have breasts? The captain gave you the job, not me.” Her tongue scorched her husband to such a degree he thought he should be in the infirmary just to get away from more fiery attacks.

“Nevermind…” James shyly responded, looking down to the deck and continued to tediously scrub the same spot of wood. Anne looked back over the side of the ship. The blue-green tides rolled over each other like children playing. Without the distraction from her husband, Anne once again regained the deep soothing peace as the horizon – ever distant – slowly unfolded around her.

That was before a hulking black mass quietly creeped above the waters. Anne squinted to make out what it was. It came closer…and closer…and closer still! Her eyes widened with amazement and fear.

“It’s the Royal Navy!” Anne shouted, pointing towards the ominous figure as it approached. Her mind was racing, her fingers twitched with anxiety. She turned to her husband. “James, what will they do to us?”

“Nothing if we can get away from them.”
“James, I’m not a pirate. I can’t shoot anyone.” She looked up at James, who was standing now, looking over at the vessel as it approached.

“Load the cannons! Turn us starboard!” A booming voice rang out, it was the captain. He stood above the rest of the sailors as they hurried about preparing for the inevitable battle. The monstrous ship came into view – it was the HMS Concordia* She turned sideways, flashing her cannons at the meek pirate ship.

Pow! Pow! The blaring sounds of cannons exploding filled the once peaceful air. Smoke fluttered through the air as cannonballs blazed through the air. The smell was awful, the smoke seared Anne’s nostrils as she rushed to help with the preparations to retaliate.

Finally the fledgling pirate ship was in position and fired back. The ship rocked back after every cannon blast and Anne could barely make out if the shots were even hitting or not. The HMS Concordia slowly drifted closer and closer until hooks began to descend upon the pirate ship. Anne, flustered with fear, tripped and fell. Before she could gather her senses, a dark shadow overcame her. She looked up to see a British soldier tower above her, his face darkened by the smoke. He raised his gun, the butt of the rifle aimed at her. He reared back to strike her but suddenly she heard a gunshot. She looked around to see James holding a pistol, smoke leaving the barrel.

“Are you alright?” He asked, glancing down at the fallen Soldier.

“Yes. James, what are we going to do?”

“Fight. Take this.” He handed her the pistol as he went to take the gun from the soldier. She held the gun in her hands, it felt awkward and clumsy. Her fingers traced the metallic branding on the side. More soldiers made their way onto the pirate ship. Anne, without hesitation, pointed the gun and shot at the soldiers, killing all three.

“Looks like you’re a pirate after all” James said, a twisted smirk on his face. Anne looked back down at the gun. She was a pirate after all…

*I made up the HMS Concordia. The point of this blog post was to show that it was through James that she was introduced to piracy and that she was thrust into a world larger than herself through the people that she surrounded herself with.

-Source 1 was used-

Chapter 4 -Upon a Painted Ocean

The wedding wasn’t a marvelous spectacle of romance and rebirth. Anne and John, now married, wanted things quiet. Despite Anne’s father vehemently opposing these star crossed lovers, he could not change what his daughter willed.

It was funny actually – the marriage. Nothing was conventional. Nothing was traditional. Anne found herself completely entangled with the most handsome sailor in the New World. He was as daring as he was witty, and Anne’s soul leapt at the thought of him. She was never too fond of married life. Something about it seemed dull. However, when considering John and his proposal, it was a feeling gnawing at the inside of her and she eventually agreed. Anne continued to doubt her actual feelings about John but she carefully analyzed away her anxieties about her newfound love. Instead, she would flee with him to the Bahamas.

Oh the Bahamas. The wind gently rolling over the beaches. The water, pristine and immaculate. It was heralded as the new Eden. A salvation away from God. John and Anne decided that they would start their life there. Reborn as children unto a new father. For Anne it was more about leaving her father than seeking salvation. Her father’s persistence that John was a scoundrel and she ought to marry some other man became too much for Anne. Her own psyche could hardly handle the conflicts she already felt, much less those imposed by her father. She knew he was caring, but still the drum of freedom was beating too heavy and too loud for her to simply ignore it. The walking drum would not rest unless she followed its rhythmic beat.

***

Anne’s hair moved silently behind her as the ship sailed out of Charles Town, South Carolina. The wind danced along the ocean and waltzed past her ears and around her face – sending a cool breath down her throat. She breathed in. She breathed out. It was as if her life had culminated to this one moment – freedom. John was standing behind her, spending his time admiring the ocean and his bride. His heart was pacing for he knew that this new life wouldn’t be easy. He’d never been married before. This was one adventure he was to embark on for the first time.

Anne looked back at her husband as they exchanged a thoughtful glance. She looked into his eyes and upon his hair. He hadn’t shaved and his shirt loosely clung to his shoulders as it drooped down. With this sight of her husband Anne felt hope. She felt desire to see the world and now it was finally happening. There was an optimism that she had hardly felt in South Carolina. A hope for something more, for an adventure rivaling that of Arthur and of Odysseus. She looked down at the water as it moved silently around the hull of the ship. Here is where it finally happened. Here is where her life was going to start.

Chapter 3 – Memento Mori

The typhoid came silently in the night – as a thief unto a house. His vengeance was wrathful, deliberate, and destructive.  In the end, Mr. McCormac wasn’t entirely too upset. His wife was rather scandalous. She had as much fidelity as a tree has leaves in winter. Now her cold frail body lay dormant in a creaky wooden coffin.

The harsh November wind blew against Anne’s cheeks. Blood rushed to her face as the chilly wind bit her nose. She patted down her dress as it too gave way to the wind. She felt an odd sensation as she stared down at her mother’s coffin. There wasn’t much sadness in her heart, but rather, it was longing. A sense of longing for something more than what her mother had – or even wanted.

Anne’s mother was just a servant. Boring, dull, lackluster. There was nothing that could possibly describe how adverse to that lifestyle Anne had become. She saw firsthand the devastating effects to morale cooking a cake and cleaning the dishes was. Despite the cold, Anne’s body rushed with heat. It boiled inside of her until she could hardly keep herself from running away from the funeral entirely.

“May she rest in peace. Amen.” The minister bowed his head solemnly and with one final motion of his hand, dirt began to pour on top of the coffin. The small gathering of people began to pile on dirt as the sight of the wooden coffin slipped from view.

“It’s going to be okay, Anne” The voice of Mr. McCormac had a soothing tone as Anne buried her head into her father’s blue coat.

***

The bulky doors to the tavern swung open as the familiar fiery haired girl stepped in. The entire picture was an almagation of characters ranging from despairing bachelors to boorish thugs. It was an entire ongoing festival dedicated to alcohol. The thrill of danger was exciting for the now 20 year old Anne McCormac.

“I’ll have one glass” She said to the bartender struggling to keep up with the insistent demands of the drunkard sitting/slouching across the bar.

“And who might you be?” The cool voice of a sailor penetrated the otherwise merry atmosphere.

“Who’s asking?” A quick reply.

“Let me buy that drink for you. I’m Bonny. John Bonny” His face contorted into an oddly repulsive smile. There was still something charming about him. His hair was slicked back in the most unusual fashion and his shirt was barely clinging to his body.

“I don’t usually let men buy my drinks.”

“Well I’m not a usual guy.” He looked back at the bartender and motioned for another drink for him. “Looks like we’ve got some talking to do.”

She smiled and looked at him. There was something intoxicating about him. Something to keep her talking. He had so many stories, half of which are doubtfully plausible at best and heinously unfaithful at worst. He was a sailor after all. Anne couldn’t put her finger on it, but this John Bonny character seemed entirely entertaining.

___

Source 1 and 3 were used

Chapter 2 – A Wild Frontier

The South Carolina soil was hard under William McCormac’s feet. His new property was quite expansive. Dotted trees scattered the perimeter of his vast estate. It was in this new wild land where we would make a name for himself. His aspirations as a lawyer were not the highest by any means, but still blazed within him. The decision to gamble his savings on the voyage and this plot of land was certainly a surprise to his wife, but being a rational man that he was, the decision was calculated and reasoned well.

He had always worried for his daughter, Anne. She was adventurours to the last and his inner mind was racing down every possibility of what she would become. He had hoped she would wear a corset and a nice dress and marry a wealthy man and develop a healthy family. As each day waned on that vision became more distant until it was almost a ship sailing away on a horizon never to return.

“Papa!” A now mature but girlish voice called out from behind him. The familar red hair of his beloved daughter bobbed slightly as she approached him.

“Hello darling” He replied back, embracing his daughter. “How are you liking all of this?”

“I love it Papa!” She bubbly proclaimed.

“And your studies?” He leaned foward slightly.

“They’re…fine” She covertly shied away from his embrace. She had skipped lectures with her mother five times this week, much to the dismay of her father.

“You’ve been spending an awful amount of time in town. Why don’t you spend time with your mother in the house?”
“The house? Papa, the air is too drafty, my feet are too cold, and mama’s droning on about cooking and cleaning drives me completely mad!” Her words were as fiery as her hair.

“Her voice drives me mad too.” He chuckled back. His daughter was always the pride of his life. If his business fell through, or his estate dried up, he would still be happy at the countenance of his daughter.

“Papa, do you think mama will be ok?” The coughing was quite loud at night. Sometimes Anne would stay awake and here the ritualistic coughing and wheezing as her sick mother lay in the bed across from her. Anne was scared of what could happen but could hardly come to say what precisely she was afraid of.

“I don’t know Anne. I’m hoping for the best. Pray for her immortal soul.” He hugged her once more, holding on to his daughter, his only family that he had left. He knew his wife was dying but none of the doctors knew of a treatment. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable would happen…

Chapter 1 – Cork in a Bottle

The dull blue waters crashed upon the shore of Cork. The rhythmic waves ebbed onto the grainy beach with a slightly  bleak sky hanging overhead. A red bob of hair bounced up and down as a little girl ran down the beach. Her feet made such a slight imprint on the sand such that only the sand pushed down by her toes was visible.

“Anne! Come in Anne!” A distant voice cried out. Anne’s mother was of a peculiar sort. As a servant girl she was called to do all of the loathsome chores. Baking the bread. Making the sheets. It wasn’t a strange occupation, but one without any means of getting a happy life.

“Anne! Come in right now!” The voice cried out again. The subject of her cries, Anne, was too busy running along the stretches of sand that outlined Cork. The freedom running through her veins, the adrenaline, the adventure – far too much for a 12 year old girl – was all bubbling up and frothing over inside Anne as she continued to run. The excitement of life was what gave Anne her fiery passion in things. Whether it be navigation, exploration, or adventure under whatever name, Anne was thoroughly invested in being a part of it.

Eventually she heard her mother and the fire of her flight quickly simmered down to a kindling hearth.

“What do you have for dinner, mama?” Anne asked between short breaths.

“Nothing for you if you don’t clean those filthy feet off!” Her mother struck back.

A tall handsome figure walked into the room. William McCormac. He was very well dressed in whatever his normal attire was for the day. Every thing was cleaned to perfection, his pressed shirt, his blue jacket. His hair was neatly slicked back behind his head, the brown strands of hair being tied together in a neat arrangement.

“I have some exciting news.” He began, fixing his jacket ever so slightly. “There’s work available in the Carolinas.”
“The Carolinas? William…” Ms. McCormac began but was immediately interrupted by her enthusiastically rude husband.

“Being a lawyer demands sacrifice, it demands hard work in the name of justice! I’ve talked to some fine gentleman and I’ve secured a plot of land in Carolina!”

“Papa, we’re leaving?”
“Yes we are! Imagine a whole new world! One like you’ve never seen! There are mystical forests, savages roaming the lands, fountains of gold! You’ll love it my sweet!” William said, attempting to sell this tremendous uprooting to both his daughter and his disdainful wife.

“And what about my family? I have to look after my mom.” Ms. McCormac stated, placing her hand on her hip.

“That’s the other half of why we’re going. To avoid your dreadful family.” William snorted back. Anne was bubbling up inside. There they were. A family moving to the New World. Her mind raced down so many possibilities. Adventures awaited her, fortune would befall her. Romance, intrigue, adventure! Everything would be at her fingertips. Her excitement was too much for her explosive mind to handle. She could hardly wait before they actually left for this great new frontier.