Posted on Saturday, 3 February 2001
There is a song by Pentangle I fell in love with over Christmas break. So this is a story based on that song.
I am a maid that's deep in love. But, yes, I can complain. I have in this world but one true love, And Wickham is his name. And if I do not find my love, I'll mourn most constantly.
Elizabeth stood on the cliffs looking out to sea. Her long, curly brown hair blew about her brooding and pensive face in the wind. A storm was brewing and the fishing boats were tacking back to the harbor. Sounds of men shouting reached her ears above the roar of the sea. Women called to their children to help bring in the fish from off the boats, dogs barked at the excitement and pandemonium. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her sturdy frame.
Above the myriad of sounds, Elizabeth picked up one calling her name. With a deep, longing sigh, she turned away from her lookout spot, and climbed down the cliff-top to the path leading down to the harbor.
"Where have you been? I've been calling you for over ten minutes!"
Elizabeth turned a deaf ear to her older sister's ranting. She went into the back of the small shop to the scent room. She checked her drying flowers and herbs, then walked over to the vat of boiling wax. She turned the heat down a tad and then began to stir the wax with the large wooden spoon.
"...Are you listening to me?" screeched Lydia.
"Yes."
"What did I say?"
"You said that we need more wicks and that the Thomases have just put in an order for two dozen lavender candles."
"Hmph."
Elizabeth kept her attention on the wax. When it was the right mixture and temperature, she picked up a single wick from the pile on the wooden table beside her. She dipped it into the wax and then immediately into the bucket of water to her left. Back into the wax she dipped then into the water. Wax then water, wax then water, wax then water. When it was to a fair thickness, she laid the two ends on the table and rolled them, smoothing the still-warm wax to form of the candle-shape cylinder. Then she repeated the process with the wax and the water.
It was a tedious process, but it soothed Elizabeth. It didn't require any concentration, just a methodical process allowing her mind to wander wherever it liked.
The day had been bitterly cold, with snow flurries whisping around in the wind. She stood on the dock watching the activity on the ship. One man walked down the plank to her side. "I promise to write you as often as I can." She nodded. "You know I don't want to leave you, baby." She shrugged, and pushed some curls away from her eyes. "Thanks for the money. It has really given me the opportunity to make a better life for us." She nodded again. "You know I have to go, Lizzy." She couldn't respond this time. "I'll send for you as soon as I am settled. Three or four months at the most." A whistle sounded followed by a shout. "That's my call." She nodded. "Won't you say good bye to me?" She looked him in the eyes- eyes filled with sorrow. "Good bye," she managed to say before her voice cracked. "Aw, baby, come here. I hate to leave you, you know that." He enveloped her in his arms. She held onto him tightly. Finally, he kissed her and let her go. She stood back and watched him walk up the plank. He stood at the railing of the ship looking at her as it pulled out to sea. He waved once and then stood still. She watched the North Sea Dawn until it was out of sight on the horizon.
That night, Elizabeth sat at dinner with Lydia and her husband, John. There was no conversation, just the sound of the three people eating. Then Lydia said, "The outhouse needs to be done and the kitchen floor wasn't swept properly this morning. So you need to wash it thoroughly tomorrow morning before the customers come. The shop front needs a new coat of paint. But I suppose you'll have to wait until Sunday to do that."
"I'm not working on Sunday, I've told you that before," Elizabeth said quietly.
"It needs to be done and if Sunday is the only day the shop is closed, that's when you have to do it!"
"Sunday is God's day, I won't work on the Sabbath."
"Oh, you talk as if you're so holy. Why, I wager you have never even read the Holy Book."
"Yes, I have. At our parents' house."
"Well, how many years ago was that?"
"Fourteen months," Elizabeth whispered.
"What? Speak up!'
"Fourteen months," she said a little louder in a breathy voice. "It's been fourteen months."
"Huh. You probably know how many days, too. Well, you're not going back, so you remember that. You under my roof and you will do as I say as long as you board under it. You will paint the shop front on Sunday."
Sunday morning, Elizabeth crept out of the house with her shoes in her hand. Once outside, she sat down and put them on, then stood and skipped off toward the sound of the clanging bells. She left her sleeping sister behind, heading towards the church.
Inside, it was dark and still cool, but it comforted Elizabeth. It was the one place where she was able to get away from her sister. Elizabeth found a small corner to hide in. She sat there and listened intently to the priest droning on about lost sheep and how the Lord is our shepherd. He read out of the Bible about a parable Christ Jesus had told, of leaving 99 sheep to find the lost 100th.
As Elizabeth listened, she had an idea. Why could she not follow Wickham and find him herself? What if he was in trouble or hurt or lost? He had promised to write, but he had only written once to inform her he had reached his destination safely. But she had nothing to her name. She had given him everything she had and more to pay for his crossing and enough to get him started in the land of liberty. That was why she had been kicked out of her father's house. She had sold several of his things without his permission to obtain the money. She didn't regret her actions as long as it helped her love.
After church, Elizabeth slowly walked home, knowing there would be a conflict waiting for her there. As soon as she walked inside the shop, Lydia came tearing through from the house.
"What did I say to you? Where have you been? Why didn't you paint the shop front? How dare you disobey me!!"
Elizabeth calmly replied, "I told you, sister, that I would not work on the Sabbath. I went to church and paid my dues to the Lord."
A tirade of scolding, insults and blows followed. Elizabeth turned her back to her sister, receiving most of the strikes on her shoulder blades and upper back. Elizabeth ran away from the shop as soon as she could, and took refuge in an open mausoleum in the cemetery. There, she cried and huddled in a corner, trying to prevent the stench of death from causing her to vomit.
When she returned home that evening, fearful and shivering, Lydia had already gone to bed. She had left behind a whole list of things for Elizabeth to do before she got up the next morning.
Elizabeth stared at the list. She had been brought up a gentleman's daughter, with no training or conditioning for hard labor. But it was a life she had had to get used to when she moved into her sister's house. She had displeased her parents by choosing a man herself, one who was not worthy enough to marry her. When she had sold her father's things and given the money to Wickham, she had been disinherited and disowned. Lydia had taken her in on condition that she would work for her board. But Elizabeth's conditions had steadily grown worse. And while she had endured it, expecting any day Wickham to return and take her away, it was now appearing like that would not happen.
Elizabeth picked up the broom, and began the chores she had to do before daybreak.
Two weeks later, Elizabeth learned of a ship sailing to America. Without hesitation, Elizabeth took a bag and filled it with food and as many candles as she could find in the back workroom. Then she went into her sister's room and took the shears from the chest at the foot of the bed. She took out her hair from its usual long braid and ran her hands through it, loosening the hair. Gathering the hair at the base of her neck, she cut below her hand, letting the long, curly locks fall to the floor. When she put the shears down, her hair was an inch below her shoulder.
Elizabeth went to John's chest and took out two pairs of trousers, two shirts, and one woolen tunic. Finally, she took a leather thong, and tied her hair into a small ponytail at the base of her neck. Taking everything she had, she walked out of the back door and down the alley towards the cemetery. In the open mausoleum, Elizabeth changed into John's clothes. They were too big for her, but this helped to hide her feminine figure. Looking down at herself, she decided to bind her breasts. Taking her own shirt, she tore it into long strips and wrapped them tightly around her chest. When she donned the men's clothes once more, her figure was less noticeable.
Leaving her skirt in the mausoleum, Elizabeth wore her own cloak and carried her sack of extra clothes, food, and candles. She walked down to the harbor and looked at the ship she had heard would sail to America. She was called the White Crest, and had three masts. Elizabeth took a deep breath and said a prayer for courage. She walked up the gangplank onto the ship's deck.
Men were working on the rigging and the deck, one man calling out all the orders. She went up to this man, and timidly asked, "Excuse me, could you tell me where the captain is?"
"He's in his quarters," replied the man. He shouted something at a man climbing up the main mast.
"Excuse me, where are his quarters?"
"Go on through that door there and take an immediate left."
Elizabeth followed his instructions and knocked on the door. A rough voice summoned her. She opened the door and walked through. The room was filled with maps and funny instruments of navigation and maritime use. A tall, young man sat in a chair studying a chart on a long table. The only light came from the window behind him. He was squinting to see the numbers.
Without thinking, Elizabeth said, "Sir, you mustn't strain your eyes like that. Why don't you light a candle?"
The man looked up. "Who are you?"
"Bret Bennet, sir," Elizabeth said, remembering to bow instead of curtsey.
"Well, Bret Bennet, I save my candles for nighttime, when they are more needed."
"I brought candles, actually, but if you think natural light is more efficient, I would suggest moving yourself from in front of the window so you do not block the light." There was a pause. "...Sir," she added hastily.
The man didn't say, nor do, anything. While looking at her intensely, he asked, "What do you want?"
"I need to join my older brother in America. As I don't have any personal possessions, I will work on your ship the entire voyage in return for my passage."
"A passage you'll work free."
"Yes, sir."
"It's very hard work. I don't think a frail lad like you could handle it."
"Oh, I can handle it, sir," she hurriedly assured him.
The man eyes her. "How old are you boy?"
"I am 14 years, sir."
"You're not even a man, yet. You don't fit your clothes."
"I know, but I will be very obedient and useful, I swear, sir. If you give me the chance."
"What work do you know?"
"I lived with my sister who was a chandler, sir."
The man thought for a long while, keeping his disconcerting gaze on her. She nearly squirmed, but refrained. She felt like he could see right through her clothing and see who she really was.
"All right. Under the condition that you work your best and hardest, and you are obedient, you may work your passage free."
Elizabeth bowed again, saying, "Thank you, sir."
"Boy," the man said. "First thing you need to learn: you salute to a captain, not bow, and address him as captain, not sir."
"Yes, sir... captain," she said, trying to salute. Except she didn't know how.
The captain sighed, and said, "You are dismissed. Go and see Withers about where you will stay and what you need to do."
"Yes, captain."
He seemed like he was about to say something else, before dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Elizabeth quickly left the room and nearly jumped for joy. She was running away from her awful sister's house, and she was going to find her love!!
The first week was brutally hard. Every night, Elizabeth crawled into her hammock sore and exhausted. She was picked on because of her size, her feminine mannerisms, her voice, and her strength. Elizabeth worked on losing her feminine mannerisms and picking up some of the habits of the rough sailors.
At first, she had been afraid of them. Their language was rough and their humour rough and their bodies rough. But after a week, she realized it was only how sailors acted. Inside, some of them were nice and funny. Occasionally she had an early, early morning watch with one of them, and they would talk and have wonderful conversations. All Elizabeth had to do was ask about some of the amazing and incredible places he had been to, and she would have touched on a subject that interested him.
Elizabeth tried to work at her strength when no one was around. Lifting heavy sacks of goods in the cargo hold. She didn't improve too much noticeably, but it did end up helping her a little in her day to day tasks.
After one week, Elizabeth seemed to have passed initiation, and was accepted as the ship's cabin boy. The picking on lessened and the workload lessened. When the ship was in calm, favorable winds at night, the ship's crew would be out on deck carousing and having fun.
Elizabeth watched the first two times before she was pulled into the crowd by one of her friendly mates. A sailor played the concertina while another beat the deck with sticks for rhythm. By the light of the moon, the crew danced, told jokes, sang and laughed. Elizabeth soon learned the bawdiest of the jokes and the lewdest stories the sailors told.
One evening, Elizabeth did not feel like joining the party. Instead, she climbed up to sit on the upper deck and watched from above. She had been there for quite some time when she heard someone say right behind her, "Why aren't you joining in?"
Elizabeth nearly screamed. Turning, she saw the captain standing a yard away from her, looking down at her from his great height. She scrambled to her feet and saluted properly. She had learned several days into the voyage that her captain's name was Fitzwilliam Darcy. But everyone just called him Captain.
The captain returned it and then said, "Well?"
"I was not in the mood, captain."
"Do you not enjoy your mates' company?"
"Most of the time, yes. But sometimes I want solitude and space to think on my own."
"What do you think about?"
"Different things. Things I've seen, heard, read, experience...."
"You know how to read?"
"Yes, sir."
"That is unusual. When did you learn?"
"When I was young. I had a tutor teaching me."
"A tutor? How did you family afford one?"
"I..." Elizabeth paused, trying to explain. "My parents were gentle folk. I was brought up accordingly."
Captain Darcy showed some surprise. "What happened to cause you to leave such status?"
"I was-" Elizabeth didn't want to tell him she had been thrown out of her father's house. "My parents died. I moved in with my sister then."
"No wonder you have some interesting idiosyncrasies."
"Sir?"
"Personal traits, characteristics, and mannerisms."
"What do you mean, 'no wonder'?"
"You haven't been around male company that much, have you?"
"No, sir."
"Then you wouldn't know how to act like a raunchy sailor, would you?"
"No, sir."
"Do you like sailing?"
"I'm getting used to it."
"But do you like it?"
"I don't know yet, sir. I might change my mind in the middle of a big storm."
The captain actually laughed at this, to Elizabeth's surprise. "Yes, your first storm can be frightening. But once you've lived through a few, you learn to lose your fear and just concentrate and on living through another one."
"How many have you gone through?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"How long have you been sailing?"
Darcy looked at her a second, as if surprised, then replied, "About ten years, now."
"Were you always a captain?"
"No, I wasn't. I came up through the ranks same as most sailors. I didn't start as low as you, mind, but I did my fair share of the brunt work."
There was a long pause, and Elizabeth looked back at the sailors dancing around in a popular jig. Then she asked, "Sir, how do you sail?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, how do you know where you're going? There's no destination in sight. How do you know we aren't going south or back east?"
"Come here, boy."
Elizabeth stood up and followed him to the bow of the ship. Away from the lights below, the stars were clearer. Darcy pointed at them. "That's how I know."
"The stars?"
"Sure. Look, you see that really bright one?"
Elizabeth nodded, leaning on the railing as she craned her neck backwards.
"That's the North Star. So I know that that's north. Then I have charts that show me what constellations are seen in what part of the sky at what time of year."
"So what direction are we going in now?"
"We're going northwest."
Elizabeth continued to ask him questions like how fast were they going? How did he know? How did he get the wind to go in the right direction? What happens in a storm and why do ships sink in them? They talked until both suddenly realized the jamboree on the lower deck had been over for some time. Elizabeth hastily said a good night and scrambled down below. Thankfully, all the other sailors were asleep when she climbed into her hammock.
After that, Elizabeth would frequently spend time talking to the captain at night. She enjoyed the conversations and she learned a lot in the process. The captain wasn't as reticent as he had been at first. Elizabeth guessed that he liked to talk but just didn't have much opportunity. He was well educated and well mannered despite being a seaman. He seemed to relax in her company. The dominating, authority figure vanished behind a regular young man yearning for spirited conversation. Which is what Elizabeth had plenty of.
One day during the voyage, the ship hit bad weather. Elizabeth grew more and more frightened as the wind picked up and the waves began to rock the boat more violently from side to side. Elizabeth, who had kept a stable stomach up 'til then, felt like she was going to throw up. Stumbling over to the side of the ship, she leaned over and vomited into the churning ocean. It didn't help to relieve her upset stomach nor her fear, as she looked into the raging waters.
Cool, calm hands came up behind her and held her steady. Elizabeth recognized Darcy's voice when he said, "Close your eyes and take deep breaths."
Elizabeth did as she was told, finding it did help. Meanwhile, Darcy continued to talk. "This isn't a bad storm, you shouldn't be afraid."
"I'm not," she lied.
"As you say."
"Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Now I do, yes."
He left and Elizabeth took another minute before returning to her duties as best as she could.
Two nights later, Elizabeth joined the captain on the upper deck once again for a late evening chat. She looked forward to them every day. Sometimes he would be unable to show up and Elizabeth would become more despondent until the next time they met.
"Have you ever thought of settling down and marrying?" Elizabeth asked with genuine curiosity.
Darcy gave a short laugh. "I wouldn't be able to for very long. I'm a sailor. Always have been and always will be. Once it's in your blood you can never go back to land for good."
"So raise a family on a ship."
Darcy laughed at the naïveté of his friend. "If I ever found a woman I loved, that would be one wonder. To find she would not mind living her life on a ship full of rough sailors is asking a little much of Providence."
"But wouldn't you only fall in love with a sensible woman anyway?"
"I like to think there is a woman out there for me like that."
There was a silence. The wind was picking up and the ship was tossing from side to side more than usual. "Another storm?" Elizabeth asked.
Darcy nodded.
"I'd better go down to my hammock while I still can walk semi-straight."
Darcy was silent, looking at the sea surrounding them, the sky above them, and then at her. He cocked his head to the side and said with a wondering look on his face, "You know, if you were only a maid, I would marry you."
Elizabeth was stunned. He didn't sound romantic, just candid.
He continued, "You look so feminine as it is with your rosy cheeks and your ruby lips. They're quite enticing. And you're intelligent and I like being around you. What more should I ask for? I wish to God with all of my heart, a maid you were to me."
"Hold your tongue, dear Captain, such talk is all in vain. If the sailors should find you've been saying such nonsense they would laugh and make fun. For when we reach the shore, some prettier girls you'll find. And you'll laugh and sing and you'll court with them for a courting you are inclined."
Darcy did not reply to this, but just turned his back to her and watched the sea. Elizabeth thought it best not to interrupt his thoughts and left him standing alone on the deck.
The captain's words had an odd effect on Elizabeth. She realized how very little she thought about Wickham. Could it be that she did not love him anymore? She didn't know and was afraid that it might be the case. For if she truly did not love him, she would be alone in the New World with no protection. The thought scared her even though she had learned a lot during her time on the ship.
The following night, Elizabeth and Darcy met once again on the top deck. Both did not bring up the captain's words of the previous night. Instead, he talked of other ships he had sailed. When he mentioned the North Sea Dawn, Elizabeth perked up.
"I remember that ship coming in the harbor once."
"Yes, yes we did put in for a day there. I'd forgotten that."
"What happened to that ship?"
"I traded her in for this one. Newer, faster, safer."
"Do you ever remember a passenger by the name of Wickham on the North Sea Dawn?"
"Yes, I do. He was going to Africa, as I recall. Said he had just made his fortune and was going to start his own plantation."
"Really?" Elizabeth now realized that Wickham had never loved her but had only swindled her and stole more than just money. She sat down on the deck, dejected and about to cry. Somehow, she managed to hold back her tears and carry on some semblance of a conversation.
That night she crouched alone in the hold and cried. She felt alone and friendless. Then she remembered the captain. He had been so kind and nice to her. She had no lack of good feelings toward him, but how would he react when he found out she was a girl? She felt bad for betraying his trust and for deceiving him in such a serious way. And it was all for nothing, now.
She listened to the rats scurrying through the stored goods and shuddered. But she did not move from her hiding spot for some time. When she did, she had composed herself back into a carefree 14-year-old lad on an adventure.
It was not three days after when the ship had reached the shore. Elizabeth watched with dread as they drew nearer to land. Darcy said from behind her, "Are you excited? It's a brand new world waiting to be conquered by man."
Elizabeth could only nod.
Once they had docked and the customs official had come and gone, the captain gave the sailors a day and night's leave. Whooping and hollering, the sailors all grabbed their wages and made for the nearest tavern.
Elizabeth slowly, solemnly collected her few belongings. Then she unwrapped the binding from her chest and pulled her hair out of its tie. She climbed up to the deck and walked over to the captain. "Adieu, my loving captain. Adieu forevermore." She took a deep breath and said what she knew she must. "For once I was a sailor on sea, but now I'm a maid on the shore. So adieu to you and all of your crew, with you I'll sail no more."
Elizabeth did not make eye contact with him, but turned and began to walk down the gangplank. A tear slipped down her cheek.
She had not reached but half way down before Darcy called after her, "Come back! Come back, my own pretty maid. Come back and marry me! I have ten thousand pounds in gold and that I'll give to thee. So come back, come back my own pretty maid, come back and marry me."
Elizabeth stopped and turned back to look at him. She hesitated, unsure of herself. Darcy walked down the plank to her. He took her free hand.
"Please," he said, so endearingly, Elizabeth could not refuse.
I am a maid that's deep in love
But, yes, I can complain.
I have in this world but one true love,
And Jimmy is his name.
And if I do not find my love,
I'll mourn most constantly.
And I'll find and follow Jimmy through
The lands of liberty.
Then I'll put up my yellow hair,
Men's clothing I'll wear o'er.
I'll say to a bold sea captain,
'A passage I'll work free.'
And I'll find and follow Jimmy through
The lands of liberty.
One night upon the raging seas
As we were going to bed,
The captain cried, "Farewell, my boy!
I wish you were a maid.
Your rosy cheeks and your ruby lips
They are enticing me.
And I wish dear God with all of my heart,
A maid you were to me."
"Then hold your tongue, dear captain,
Such talk is all in vain.
And if any sailors find it out,
They'd laugh and make much game.
For when we reach Columbia shore,
Some prettier girls you'll find.
And you'll laugh and sing and you'll court with them,
For a courting you are inclined."
It was not three days after,
Our ship had reached the shore.
"Adieu, my loving captain,
Adieu, forevermore.
For once I was a sailor on sea,
But now I'm a maid on the shore.
So adieu to you and to all of your crew,
With you I'll sail no more."
"Come back, come back, my own pretty maid.
Come back and marry me!
I have ten thousand pounds in gold,
And that I'll give to thee.
So come back, come back, my own pretty maid.
Come back, and marry me!"
-- "I Am A Maid That's Deep In Love" by Pentangle