Companion to Day Twenty-Three: Daylight
1:00pm
We reached land, searched empty houses, and found a child’s skeleton clutching at dirt.
‘Anyone want to leave?’ Sol said.
No-one spoke.
___________________________________
It’s official: the next twittertale will be entitled “Daylight”, set in Canberra – a tale of a pandemic known as EMO, transmitted among young people. Symptoms include pale skin, dark clothes, and the irresistable urge to bite one’s friends and associates in order to suck their blood. Victims also hate daylight, due to the unfortunate fact that it makes them. . . sparkle.
“Daylight” will begin October 3rd (probably), and end on 31 December this year.
Companion to Day Twenty-Two: Soap
8:00am
I showed Sol our hold.
She said, ‘We still have food for – what – two days?’
‘About that,’ I said, ‘and we’re out of soap.’
‘I’d noticed.’
___________________
Pirates often stole soap. Turns out even the biggest ships lack a general store.
A Time to Fart
I know, I know – I promised I wouldn’t touch my fart book for two months.
It’s been one month today, and I plan to attack it wildly this weekend, then get my partner to critique it (I saved him for last – he’s never read it), and probably send it off on Monday.
My excuses are:
1) Half my publishable books are under construction at the moment, and “Farting my ABCs” only needs a quick polish and it can be out in the slushpile where they all belong.
2) A month is SORT OF like two months. . . right?
3) With all the promotional stuff I’m doing, the goal is to get publishers to approach me, saying, “I’ve seen you in the papers and heard about you on the radio. Somebody said you had written a book?” Since Penguin is Australia’s slowest reader, it seems a head start would be handy, so instead of responding, “Yes. Here you go.” I can respond, “Yes. It’s been on your slush pile for six months now, so has probably already passed a few links up the chain. Enjoy!”
Tenuous, I know. Yesterday’s school visit was the most likely to yield twitter-shaped fruit. It didn’t. I still have other avenues and other schools, and the magic of time (I’m running a competition for that school, which will probably get me a few followers eventually), but it was a day of hard work for absolutely no pay of any kind.
Another one.
So today, I’m going to channel my false hopes in a newer, shinier direction.
Companion to Day Twenty-One: Blackbeard’s Beard
5:00am
Oldy sauntered in and helped himself to salty breakfast stew.
‘Didn’t you go with Li?’ I asked.
He shrugged, ‘I came back.’
3:00pm
‘Who stole my boat?’ Sol screamed.
Oldy raised his hand. ‘You’re a fine captain. We won’t need it.’
Sol said, ‘You’ll live – for now.’
——————————————————
I may have mentioned that Blackbeard really was evil. As usual, I’m taking my best information from the 1724 book “A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pirates”. (I do own other pirate books, they’re just not as cool.)
Blackbeard’s name originated “from that large quantity of hair which, like a frightful meteor, covered his whole face and frightened America more than any comet that has appeared there a long time.
“The beard was black, which he suffered to grow of an extravagant length; as to breadth it came up to his eyes. He was accustomed to twist it with ribbons, in small tails, after the manner of our ramilies [sic] wigs, and turn them about his ears. In time of action, he wore a sling over his shoulders with three brace of pistols hanging in holsters like bandaliers, and stuck lighted matches under his hat, which, appearing on either side of his face, his eyes naturally appearing fierce and wild, made him altogether such a figure, that imagination cannot form an idea of a fury, from hell, to look more frightful. . . his humours and passions were suitable to it.”
So he looked like pure evil, and acted like it, too.
Observant “Pirates of the Carribean” watchers will note than one pirate has a particularly impressive beard, which is smoking throughout the entire movie. It’s clear the costumers read the same book (which is also well known as Robert Louis Stevenson’s inspiration.)
Companion to Day Twenty: Story so far
Here’s the whole story so far, in chronological order with times (set to Jakarta):
1 August. 8am
Sun. Pain. I cracked open my eyes and saw land. ‘Sol!’ I said.
‘CAPTAIN Sol,’ she said – and crumpled.
‘We’re saved,’ I said. ‘Right? SOL!’
9am
Sol awoke. She sat up, unsticking her tarred hair from the deck of our stolen boat. ‘We’re sinking.’
I leapt overboard and swam to save us.
9:00am
I wanted to drink the sea, but I swam. The waves flung me upside down and the sea darkened as I drowned.
Sol grasped my neck.
I passed out.
August 2. 12 midday
The sizzle of frying eggs woke me.
‘Yep,’ said Sol to a bald man beside us, ‘nasty pirates coming. Best hide your treasure. We’ll help.’
August 3. 8am
We ate bread and wine and milk, and a yellow fruit that tasted like chocolate. It was fun, pretending to be good.
I got a stomach ache.
August 4. 3pm
Treasure, I discovered, is heavy. But Sol wore a girlish smile so I didn’t say a word.
The locals thought we were just kids. But we weren’t.
August 5. 9am
The bald elder missed his jewels, so our good times ended fast.
‘Ulandin,’ Sol grinned, ‘don’t waste our loot on food. Let’s steal a ship.’
5pm
A beggar took pity on me and gave us his crusts to gnaw. ‘I’m called Oldy,’ he said.
Sol said, ‘Ulandin’s my first mate. Wanna be our crew?’
6pm
Oldy sang songs until the harbour guards left. We chose the best ship and crept past its crew into the hold.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘we’re stuck.’
August 6. 4am
The crew was dull with sleepiness. Oldy rose like a grey ghost in the bridge.
Sol used magic to fell three men. The rest ran for help.
4:30am
Oldy said, ‘Sol’s a quickener? She moves objects by just touch?’
‘It’s common enough.’
‘Not at sea. It’s bad luck.’
‘Sol’s used to that.’
5am
‘The guards have swords,’ I said.
Sol said, ‘Want one?’
‘I want to go.’
She quickened the ship. We sailed away with every sail still closed.
August 7. 11pm
Sol slept, so we drifted. The sun weighed heavy on my shoulders.
‘At least I wasn’t a slave,’ said Oldy.
I said, ‘We both escaped.’
‘Maybe.’
August 8. 7pm
The ship’s old owners left tasty food in it – salted meat, squishy fruit and lots of crackers. Also rum.
Maybe I drunks a bit too muchness.
August 9. 10am
Sol magically bellied out the sails. We were all surprised when we started going backward.
I tried not to laugh.
Sol broke my tooth anyway.
August 10. 6pm
Sol delighted in the burning wind and sun and the constant desperate clapping of our sails.
‘Look,’ said Oldy. ‘Is that a ship – or land?’
August 11. 6am
‘It’s a ship,’ I said at first light, ‘so do we meet them – or do we run?’
Sol picked at her tarred hair and said, ‘Let’s take their crew.’
12 midday
The wind tore at my eyes. Sol yelled, ‘Trim the sails!’ I actually thought she meant to cut them.
Oldy suddenly knew how to sail – somehow.
6pm
‘Pink!’ Sol screamed. ‘Stupid pink sky! And why is that ship still running?’
‘We’ll get them,’ I said.
‘Or they’ll get us,’ said Oldy.
August 12 – 7am
‘Sol – Captain Sol?’ I said. ‘Hit me if you like, but there’s forty of them and three of us. And Oldy’s. . . old.’
‘Poor them,’ she smirked.
12 midday
The wind dropped and we caught them.
They laughed at us. I longed to hide behind Oldy.
Then Sol arose, grabbed a rope, and swung across.
12:15pm
‘Do you surrender?’ she cried.
They grabbed swords, but she still had her magic.
Their ship shattered.
‘We’re sorry miss!’ they wept.
August 13. 7am
‘A captain goes down with his ship,’ said Sol – and tied him to his mast. His ship screamed as it sank.
He screamed as long as he could.
August 14. 8am
I said, ‘I’m afraid of her – but I know I’m made to follow her. Are you the same?’
‘No,’ said Oldy. ‘I’m not afraid. And I’m following you.’
August 15. 8am
‘Stop cowering,’ Sol told our new crew, ‘I dislike it. Now, hows about we attack a real target – like an island. Who here wants to be rich?’
12 midday
I asked Oldy why he was following me.
He said, ‘Sol has you. Now you have me.’
‘But –’
‘Everyone needs someone. I of all people know that.’
August 16. 3pm
My back and wrists ached.
The sword tutor asked, ‘Will this island have women then?’
‘I suppose.’
He cheered and toasted Sol – with my rum.
August 17. 8:30am
A man muttered something to his crewmates while Sol was out of sight.
I crept up and grabbed his arm.
He shrieked – EXACTLY like a girl.
August 18. 11am
‘But you ARE a girl,’ I said.
‘No I ain’t.’
‘Don’t the men know?’
‘Coz it ain’t true,’ she said, and picked her nose at me.
I gave up.
2:00pm
‘Li’s a girl,’ I told Oldy.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘she’ll be fine.’
‘How could anyone know that?’
He smiled, ‘I’m much older than I look.’
August 19. 5:00pm
Sol cheated at lessons, using magic to bend the swords – then the teacher.
Luckily Oldy was a healer. ‘Kindly stop breaking arms,’ he said.
8pm
‘Wanna be free?’ Li asked.
I said, ‘Sol already freed me.’
She hauled on a sail: ‘Do you really think that?’
I tied a knot: ‘Don’t you?’
August 20 – midnight
Night wind and stars. I shadowed men to Sol’s cabin, and yelled when they pulled out a knife.
She killed two in an eyeblink.
The rest fled.
4:30am
I threw the bodies away, knowing Li had led them.
Sol and I kept watch in silence all night. Oldy slept on in his cabin.
I dreaded the dawn.
6am
Sol judged us at dawn. Li confessed, and Sol threw her overboard.
The men vanished below like dust swept up.
But I saw Oldy steal the boat.
Companion to Day Nineteen: Oldy interview
8:30am
Sol cheated at lessons, using magic to bend the swords – then the teacher. Luckily Oldy was a healer. ‘Kindly stop breaking arms,’ he said.
6:30pm
‘Wanna be free?’ Li asked.
I said, ‘Sol already freed me.’
She hauled on a sail. ‘Do you really think that?’
I tied a knot. ‘Don’t you?’
____________________________________
Louise: This is going to be an interesting interview.
Oldy: Says the author.
Louise: Do you mind? It is interesting. . . because Oldy is a mixture of fiction and co-author. He’s based on Jesus (who I find as real as anyone else, and realer than anyone I meet online) – but he certainly isn’t Jesus. Partly because I don’t know Jesus all that well, and partly because it’s really annoying to have a flawless, omnipotent character.
Oldy: So you altered a few things. About me.
Louise: Yees. . . in consultation. Can we start now, or is this going to get into a wacky postmodern jumble?
Oldy: Let’s start.
Louise: What’s your real name?
Oldy: I have thousands.
Louise: Right. Moving on. . . since you’re co-author as well as character, why did you choose to be in the story?
Oldy: Sol. And Ulandin. And Li. And a few others, but mostly those three. I might not appear to change much actively, but their lives are all better for having me around.
Louise: Why pretend to be a beggar?
Oldy: At this stage, Sol is easily threatened – so it made a handy disguise.
Louise: What do you want?
Oldy: I want Ulandin to care for himself as much as he cares for Sol. I want Li to become herself again. I want Sol to stop killing people – for starters.
Louise: Why don’t you stop Sol? I know you have the power.
Oldy: Mostly, in this instance, because I’m fictional and you’re the author. Real life is what you really want to know about, isn’t it? Why the real Jesus lets bad things happen. The fact is***schhhhh****
***static***
***end interview***
Louise: *sigh* At least Sol is straightforward.
Companion to Day Eighteen: Girl Pirates Part Two
8:30am
‘But you ARE a girl,’ I said.
‘No I ain’t.’
‘Don’t the men know?’
‘Coz it ain’t true,’ she said, and picked her nose at me.
I gave up.
5:30pm
‘Li’s a girl,’ I told Oldy.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘she’ll be fine.’
‘How could anyone know that?’
He smiled, ‘I’m much older than I look.’
————————————————————————————————-
And now we bring you Anne Bonny.
Anne Bonny was also dressed as a boy during her youth in order to hide parental indiscretion, but only for a short period. Her father was proud of her (once her true gender was discovered, he continued to raise her) and it was generally thought that she’d marry well.
She didn’t.
THEN, to make matters worse, she left her husband – for Captain Rackham (who I mentioned in “Tricksy Pirates” in this blog). She stayed with Captain Rackham until his death, but certainly didn’t stay faithful to him.
Here’s my favourite part: Anne Bonny (dressed as a man to accompany Rackham – when she wasn’t growing a little family on Cuba) took a romantic shine to another crew member. She was so clear and so persistent in her affections that the handsome young fellow was forced to reveal his true identity. He was Mary Read!
At this point, the two women became very close. So close, in fact, that Captain Rackham became insanely jealous and threatened to slit Mary Read’s throat. In order to keep Mary alive, the two women let him in on the secret.
And you remember yesterday’s tale, in which Mary Read was one of only three “men” still on board in the pirates’ final fight? Anne Bonny was another – making the bravest men on board two-thirds women.
Anne Bonny was also sentenced to death, and also got off due to being pregnant – she continued in her misadventures, and was never executed.
Captain Rackham WAS hung at that time. Anne may have been upset, but if so she had an interesting way of showing it. When, as his wife (ish), she was allowed one final visit with Rackham, she told him, “If you’d fought like a man, you wouldn’t have had to die like a dog.”
Companion to Day Seventeen: Girl Pirates Part 1
8:30am
A man muttered something to his crewmates while Sol was out of sight. I crept up and grabbed his arm.
He shrieked – EXACTLY like a girl.
____________________________________________________
I know what you’re all thinking: “We SAW Keira Knightley in Pirates of the Carribean 3 – women don’t look like women just because they wear pants. It’s silly!”
It’s also a historical fact.
The two best known pirates are Anne Bonny and Mary Read, both written about in considerable detail in my ultimate pirate book, “A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pirates” (published 1724 by an anonymous author who was almost definitely a pirate himself – or herself).
The author himself writes that the story sounds made up. However, there were thousands of Jamaican witnesses at their respective trials, so the stories are from the women themselves.
It all starts with Mary Read’s mother, who gave birth to a son, then discovered her husband was lost at sea. According to the book, “Nevertheless, the mother, who was young and airy, met with an accident, which has often happened to women who are young and do not take a great deal of care; which was, she soon proved to be with child again.”
Oh, what to do, what to do?
First she visited friends, to hide the fact she was pregnant. It was there she gave birth to a girl, and stayed several years.
By sheer chance, her son died. At this point, being poor, she came up with a cunning plan. If she could switch children, she could get her rich mother-in-law to give her money to raise her “grandson”. So that’s what she did.
Unfortunately, the mother in law soon died, so Mary worked as a footman from a young age.
All in all, by the time little Mary Read was fully grown, she was extremely well practised at acting in every way like a boy. She became a trooper, and was well known for “his” courage, although it was thought rather odd that she’d always volunteer for any fight involving her comrade (with whom she shared a tent).
Her comrade just thought “he” was a great friend. Until she “accidentally” blew her cover one day. Then he thought, “Even better! I got me a free woman, all to myself!”
He was very startled when Mary resisted his advances, despite clearly being in love with him. Eventually she won him over (as all women do in the end), and they were properly and honourably married. Both were very poor, but they pooled their money and Mary finally wore a dress.
Cue media furore. It’s not often soldiers marry each other. The pair was so popular they were given financial help from their fellow soldiers. They were very happy, but the husband died very young.
At that point Mary did what was necessary to live. She dressed as a man again, and became a sailor – which, when it didn’t go well, soon became piracy. She continued to be very well known for her bravery – and to reserve herself for marriage only (although there weren’t any ministers available to make her marriage official).
On one occasion her lover (whom she very seriously considered her husband) challenged another pirate to a duel. Mary showed her love and courage by arranging ANOTHER duel with the same pirate – two hours earlier. She killed him, saving her own life and possibly the life of her partner.
During the battle that ended in her capture, she was one of only three “men” still fighting on deck. She “called to those under deck to come up and fight like men, and finding that they did not stir, fired her arms down the hold amongst them, killing one and wounding others.”
She denied that particular charge, but was certainly on deck when most of her pirate shipmates were letting her risk her life to save them.
Not surprisingly, all the pirates were brought to court, having lost the battle. Some were let off, but Mary was not. She was sentenced to death. The court that heard her was so sympathetic they might have let her off, except that a conversation was repeated in which she had said she supported the punishment of hanging for piracy, because otherwise everyone would turn pirate (rather than just the desperate, like herself). Since she was pregnant, however, the hanging was put off. She might still have been pardoned after some jail time, but she died of a fever in prison.
Her partner, however, was one of those who was pardoned. She “commended the justice of the court before which she was tried, for distinguishing the nature of their crimes; her husband, as she called him, with several others, being aquitted; and being asked who he was, she would not tell, but said he was an honest man and had no inclination to such practises, and they had both resolved to leave the pirates their first opportunity, and apply themselves to some honest livelihood.”
The freedom of her husband gave her some comfort in tha last months of her life.
Companion to Day Sixteen: Swordfighting
3:00pm
My back and wrists ached. The sword tutor asked, ‘Will this island have women then?’
‘I suppose.’
He cheered and toasted Sol – with my rum.
——————————————————————-
I’ve had precisely one swordfighting lesson, and I know enough to know it takes more than one lesson. And the wrist angles just feel wrong. Sorta like when your PE teacher teaches you how to hold a cricket bat properly.
The song in my head
I’ve had the same song in my head, on and off, since early 2006. It’s “Blow up the Pokies” by the Whitlams (about gambling addiction). At first thought, it seems like a weird choice. But then I look at the words of the one small section I remember (I’ve only seen the song played once, on “The Panel”), and it all makes sense:
And I wish, I wish I knew the right words [what writer doesn’t think that every day?]
To make you feel better, walk out of this place [the mental space of the unpublished writer is very dark]
To help you in your secret battles [something addicts and the mentally ill have in common]
So that you can be your own man again
So that you can be your own man again [don’t I just wish I could stand on my own two feet]
__________________
Plus it’s a pretty tune 🙂
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I’m taking votes for the style of the next twittertale (which will begin sometime in October and end December 31) here:
http://twittertales.wordpress.com/2009/08/15/companion-to-day-fifteen-vote/
Felicity Banks 