“Oh my,” Alice said with horror, forgetting for a moment that the people in peril were Black Ethel’s mortal enemies. “The poor pony!”
“Never fear,” the pirate queen said, waving away the young woman’s fears with her still-smouldering cigar. “The pony himself was unhurt. My enemies, however, did not fare so well.”
Her face seemed filled with a grim satisfaction as she recalled the events. “My compatriots let fly with the best of their weapons and soon the glistening white cart had become spattered with the foulest mud, its gilt edgings dimmed. The snooty pair who had dismissed us so peremptorily now gasped with shock as they were met with volley after volley of the viscous glop gleaned from the depths of the muddied waters.
“My nemesis, Miss Surfeis Perkineiss, cried aloud in alarm as the handfuls of mud splashed against her white frock, every pleat pressed laboriously by me the night before -- yet another punishment for my imagined wrongs. I hated her, I hated that dress and I hated the way she was coddled and cosseted, assured of a cushy life without the least bit of effort -- all from an accident of birth. My parents were the kindest people on earth and I had been robbed of their comforts.”
Alice suddenly began to cry, so overwrought by the story as to imagine herself much wronged by the death of Lord Mangrove, although the spirit departed had not (at last encounter) yet managed to depart completely and that she had already some difficulty in recalling any event of kindness or thoughtfulness demonstrated by her late father and so, lapsed into a puzzled silence as she tried to imagine him doing anything other than muttering behind an endless succession of newspapers or fuming red-faced at her mother or the servants.
Lizzie was, on the other hand, deriving a great deal of vicarious satisfaction from the narrative, events she could never have brought herself to take part in (to be entirely truthful) but which she was delighted someone of Black Ethel’s mettle had had no scruples about. “Go on,” she encouraged the buccaneer, who had paused to raise an eyebrow at Alice’s tenderhearted weeping (which had since dwindled into sniffles and a furrowed brow). “Was Algernon greatly displeased?”
The pirate queen laughed gleefully. “He was quite beside himself! I could not tell if the indignity or the mud was worst for him, but his face was red as a pomegranate and he let loose with most ungentlemanly words of the blackest vituperation. My comrades and I only laughed in delight, some of the rougher fellows sought to pull him from the bench and toss the young dandy headlong into the floodwaters.
“They were still struggling with the recalcitrant lad, while Miss Surfeis was weeping bitter tears, when the authorities at last arrived. My compatriots, hardened criminals all, made rude gestures, called even ruder names, and quickly eluded the gendarmes, but I was too overcome with triumph to bother.
“I was dragged to the home of my keepers and true to form, the Perkineisses turned me out without a kind word after a tearful accusation from Surfeis. I no longer cared. I was glad to be sent to Les Orphelines de Brad, once I had rescued the last remnant of my parents from the wall of my tiny room. I looked with scorn at my ungrateful relatives and spit on the ground at their feet. A door was closing behind me, but I was sure things could be no worse that at that hated home.
“Oh, la la! What a child I was!”
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
6.6
Black Ethel took a sip of rum before she continued with her riveting tale. Lizzie thought to herself how exciting the story would be when she revised it for her secret pen pal with the proper flourishes that the pirate queen seemed to find unnecessary. A good Gothic should have more atmosphere, Lizzie mused, listening to the rain begin to fall outside the cabin window, aware once more of the occasional shouts of the pirate men as they went about their myriad duties required to keep the ship running. No doubt about it, Lizzie assured herself, this tale could be embellished grandly.
“It was late afternoon,” Ethel began again, “and we knew that Algernon and Miss Surfeis Perkineiss would be returning any time in their fine frocks and with their basket of fresh strawberries. They were part of my bribe to the other children. I assured them we would plunder the basket and enjoy the spoils of our attack.”
“Did you look forward to the strawberries with cream,” Alice could not keep herself from wondering aloud even as she wistfully sighed for the lack of such delicacies on board the Bonny Read. “Or even with a little bit of sponge cake…”
“What did I care for strawberries?” Black Ethel waved away such details, intent upon her tale. “My only hunger was for revenge against mine enemy, my bête noire! Miss Surfeis was going to pay for her many unkindnesses and if her little toad-eating friend had to share the cost, so much the better!”
“Oh horrors!” Alice said with considerable alarm, seeking in vain for her mourning handkerchief to cover her swiftly watering mouth. “I can hardly abide toads at all, let alone consider eating them! It is too much to contemplate.”
“Where you come by this ridiculous toad prejudice, I can hardly understand,” Lizzie said with a cross tone that suggested this to be yet the latest round in an on-going battle of wills. “Toads are essential for the smooth-running garden, they provide a simple solution to common pest insects and are clean and friendly -- ”
“I was merely using the phrase ‘toad-eating’ to indicated that M. Algernon was a sycophantic flatterer,” Black Ethel broke in, somewhat dismayed at the suddenly fractious turn of the conversation and eager to return to the traumatic events of her childhood. “We despised him for it. And when I say we, I mean my little friends of the town who were immune to the charms of Miss Surfeis because they could not get past her evil words and her snooty attitude, and thus had come to hate her nearly as much as I.
“We were watching the road closely. A few carts had come by and the mail from Paris, but all of a sudden we saw the bright little pony cart that held those two and we prepared ourselves for the assault. I knew that however much I ended up in the basket, as you English say, it would be worth it to see that superior smirk wiped from the face of my mortal enemy.
“Faster and faster, the little pony trotted along. I looked to my comrades and they each had a look of grim satisfaction as the shiny white cart drew nearer with its large basket of strawberries and its two well-dressed passengers. With a quick whistle, I signaled to my men, two of whom pulled taut the laundry line across the track, stopping the gentle pony in his traces, and causing young Algernon to drawl idly, “What can be the meaning of this, you mangy dogs?”
“’I will show you the meaning, mon petit losengeor’ I said to him, hoping he would catch the irony in my insult, and ordered my men to begin firing…”
“It was late afternoon,” Ethel began again, “and we knew that Algernon and Miss Surfeis Perkineiss would be returning any time in their fine frocks and with their basket of fresh strawberries. They were part of my bribe to the other children. I assured them we would plunder the basket and enjoy the spoils of our attack.”
“Did you look forward to the strawberries with cream,” Alice could not keep herself from wondering aloud even as she wistfully sighed for the lack of such delicacies on board the Bonny Read. “Or even with a little bit of sponge cake…”
“What did I care for strawberries?” Black Ethel waved away such details, intent upon her tale. “My only hunger was for revenge against mine enemy, my bête noire! Miss Surfeis was going to pay for her many unkindnesses and if her little toad-eating friend had to share the cost, so much the better!”
“Oh horrors!” Alice said with considerable alarm, seeking in vain for her mourning handkerchief to cover her swiftly watering mouth. “I can hardly abide toads at all, let alone consider eating them! It is too much to contemplate.”
“Where you come by this ridiculous toad prejudice, I can hardly understand,” Lizzie said with a cross tone that suggested this to be yet the latest round in an on-going battle of wills. “Toads are essential for the smooth-running garden, they provide a simple solution to common pest insects and are clean and friendly -- ”
“I was merely using the phrase ‘toad-eating’ to indicated that M. Algernon was a sycophantic flatterer,” Black Ethel broke in, somewhat dismayed at the suddenly fractious turn of the conversation and eager to return to the traumatic events of her childhood. “We despised him for it. And when I say we, I mean my little friends of the town who were immune to the charms of Miss Surfeis because they could not get past her evil words and her snooty attitude, and thus had come to hate her nearly as much as I.
“We were watching the road closely. A few carts had come by and the mail from Paris, but all of a sudden we saw the bright little pony cart that held those two and we prepared ourselves for the assault. I knew that however much I ended up in the basket, as you English say, it would be worth it to see that superior smirk wiped from the face of my mortal enemy.
“Faster and faster, the little pony trotted along. I looked to my comrades and they each had a look of grim satisfaction as the shiny white cart drew nearer with its large basket of strawberries and its two well-dressed passengers. With a quick whistle, I signaled to my men, two of whom pulled taut the laundry line across the track, stopping the gentle pony in his traces, and causing young Algernon to drawl idly, “What can be the meaning of this, you mangy dogs?”
“’I will show you the meaning, mon petit losengeor’ I said to him, hoping he would catch the irony in my insult, and ordered my men to begin firing…”
Sunday, October 07, 2007
6.5
“Do go on with your tale,” Lizzie said, caught up in the exciting adventure of Black Ethel’s childhood. “I hope something terrible -- er, something morally instructive happened to Miss Surfeis Perkineiss.”
Black Ethel smiled and blew some smoke from her cigar. She swirled the rum in her glass and said, “We LeBeaus -- for that is my family’s illustrious name -- we do not take kindly to insults. I swore upon the cheese-scented grave of my parents that I would have revenge upon Miss Surfeis. Her mother Lady Dowdy, to give her some credit, was kindly to me after Lord Surfeit whipped me for his daughter’s naughtiness, but she too drew the line at suspecting their petite angel capable of the deed herself.
“I plotted and planned and at last saw my opportunity. There was a soft little fribble of the name of Algernon – a true demimonde, always in le dernier cri, his parents owned the most successful flower shop in Angoulême, so successful that they did not soil there hands with any kind of soil but had servants and shop girls to do it for them. This Algernon earnestly pursued the life of the fashionable young man even at our childish years. Although he was more hair than wit, Miss Surfeis had a ceaseless desire to flatter him and win his friendship, treating him as if he were a nabob of the first order. I fancy it was only because she had her family’s stoat-like hunger for money.”
“The little cormorant!” Alice said with explosive vehemence, startling both Lizzie and the pirate queen. “How unutterably common!”
“Indeed,” said Black Ethel as Lizzie tried to smother her laughter and Alice looked mildly confused. “I knew that on a certain day the two would be riding forth in his little pony cart to go pick strawberries at the meadow’s edge, beyond the walls of the city. Algernon fancied himself quite the horseman even at the age of eight. Miss Surfeis -- with her family’s unerring compass for the ways of the ton -- would always join him in his little cart as he whipped his little pony to charge down the cobblestones with all manner of speed.”
Alice could not abide such cruelty even in the past. “The poor little pony! I cannot bear the thought of his being so callous. I should never whip my pony, dear dear little Bosky.” Indeed, Alice’s frequent playmate was so idle as to have exceeded his ideal weight by at least two stone, so that very often he wheezed as he trotted, unable to work up the effort to accomplish even a mild canter. It is doubtful that whipping would have done much to increase his pace even if he were able to feel the sting of the crop upon his well-padded hind quarters. But let us think well of Alice for her kindness, regardless of the dubiousness of the object of her affections. It would not be the first time those near to her would need to turn a blind eye to her ideas.
“Knowing her plans, I gathered my few friends together for a dastardly plan. My playmates were mostly from the less fortunate side of town, rough young boys whose ideas of games were often quite dangerous and careless of the rules of society. We found our position for the attack at the base of the hill, where the rains of the last few days had gathered in a considerable pool of murky waters across the road. My confederates armed themselves with large scoopings of mud and some small rocks. We ran a purloined laundry line across the road.
“And then we waited.”
Black Ethel smiled and blew some smoke from her cigar. She swirled the rum in her glass and said, “We LeBeaus -- for that is my family’s illustrious name -- we do not take kindly to insults. I swore upon the cheese-scented grave of my parents that I would have revenge upon Miss Surfeis. Her mother Lady Dowdy, to give her some credit, was kindly to me after Lord Surfeit whipped me for his daughter’s naughtiness, but she too drew the line at suspecting their petite angel capable of the deed herself.
“I plotted and planned and at last saw my opportunity. There was a soft little fribble of the name of Algernon – a true demimonde, always in le dernier cri, his parents owned the most successful flower shop in Angoulême, so successful that they did not soil there hands with any kind of soil but had servants and shop girls to do it for them. This Algernon earnestly pursued the life of the fashionable young man even at our childish years. Although he was more hair than wit, Miss Surfeis had a ceaseless desire to flatter him and win his friendship, treating him as if he were a nabob of the first order. I fancy it was only because she had her family’s stoat-like hunger for money.”
“The little cormorant!” Alice said with explosive vehemence, startling both Lizzie and the pirate queen. “How unutterably common!”
“Indeed,” said Black Ethel as Lizzie tried to smother her laughter and Alice looked mildly confused. “I knew that on a certain day the two would be riding forth in his little pony cart to go pick strawberries at the meadow’s edge, beyond the walls of the city. Algernon fancied himself quite the horseman even at the age of eight. Miss Surfeis -- with her family’s unerring compass for the ways of the ton -- would always join him in his little cart as he whipped his little pony to charge down the cobblestones with all manner of speed.”
Alice could not abide such cruelty even in the past. “The poor little pony! I cannot bear the thought of his being so callous. I should never whip my pony, dear dear little Bosky.” Indeed, Alice’s frequent playmate was so idle as to have exceeded his ideal weight by at least two stone, so that very often he wheezed as he trotted, unable to work up the effort to accomplish even a mild canter. It is doubtful that whipping would have done much to increase his pace even if he were able to feel the sting of the crop upon his well-padded hind quarters. But let us think well of Alice for her kindness, regardless of the dubiousness of the object of her affections. It would not be the first time those near to her would need to turn a blind eye to her ideas.
“Knowing her plans, I gathered my few friends together for a dastardly plan. My playmates were mostly from the less fortunate side of town, rough young boys whose ideas of games were often quite dangerous and careless of the rules of society. We found our position for the attack at the base of the hill, where the rains of the last few days had gathered in a considerable pool of murky waters across the road. My confederates armed themselves with large scoopings of mud and some small rocks. We ran a purloined laundry line across the road.
“And then we waited.”
Sunday, September 30, 2007
6.4
“Miss Surfeis Perkineiss was the trial of my youth,” Black Ethel continued, pouring herself another measure of rum and settling back into her captain’s chair once more. “While she had a certain charm for people she enjoyed, she could be unutterably cruel to those she did not.”
“Perfectly loathsome!” Alice pronounced before cramming another orange slice into her gaping mouth.
“Indeed,” the pirate queen assented while raising an eyebrow at Alice’s unusually robust consumption. “Any number of faradiddles by Miss Surfeis succeeded in putting me in a very awkward state. She was never quite caught out, but I was always being punished on some whim of hers to blame me for one farrago or another.”
“Did not her parents chastise her for her lack of truthfulness,” Lizzie asked, knowing all too well the blindness of parents to their beloved children’s naughtiness. “I am shocked, shocked to hear such things!”
Black Ethel gave a wry grin. “You are perhaps less surprised than you say, eh mademoiselle? You are correct to guess that her parents indulged to no end her relaxed attitude toward the truth of matters. Lord Surfeit Perkineiss himself was known on many an occasion to sweeten the account of events to his own advantage, so I am little surprised to see such things encouraged.
“One of the most reprehensible of these childhood traumas came when we were both about eight years old. It was a small thing but seemed much larger at the time, as such occurrences do to young children of an impressionable age.
“We were with a small group of children at our favorite gathering place, an old linden tree with many well-loved low branches from which we would swing and have great adventures.”
“We have an old oak like that in our garden,” Alice broke in eagerly, but at a gesture from lizzie, subsided with a reluctant sigh. “Do go on, ma’am.”
Black Ethel sipped her rum and then, with a meaningful look at Alice -- who found herself suddenly feeling very meek indeed -- continued with her tale. “This day we had been playing revolution as we so often did. I was taking the role of Robespierre as I often did, and Surfeis was as usual Marie Antoinette. I enjoyed being on the opposite side from her. Our games were the only place where I could occasionally get my own back, as you English say, on my tormentor.”
Alice and Lizzie made murmuring sounds of sympathy and approval as the situation no doubt required.
“That day, I had captured Marie and confined her to the Bastille -- our favorite tree, naturalment! I was just in the midst of giving a stirring speech to the peasantry, rallying them to the cause, when Marie decided to make a break for it.
“Unfortunately, she made her escape by clouting another unfortunate child on the tête and shoving her to the ground. Poor Madeleine! She came away with a large bump of purple, which the naughty Mademoiselle Perkineiss blamed on me.
“Lord Perkineiss corrected me with a sound thrashing that made me forever his enemy. But worse than that was the sniggering face of Surfeis who watched my beating with laughter and glee. I swore from that moment I would have my revenge!”
“Perfectly loathsome!” Alice pronounced before cramming another orange slice into her gaping mouth.
“Indeed,” the pirate queen assented while raising an eyebrow at Alice’s unusually robust consumption. “Any number of faradiddles by Miss Surfeis succeeded in putting me in a very awkward state. She was never quite caught out, but I was always being punished on some whim of hers to blame me for one farrago or another.”
“Did not her parents chastise her for her lack of truthfulness,” Lizzie asked, knowing all too well the blindness of parents to their beloved children’s naughtiness. “I am shocked, shocked to hear such things!”
Black Ethel gave a wry grin. “You are perhaps less surprised than you say, eh mademoiselle? You are correct to guess that her parents indulged to no end her relaxed attitude toward the truth of matters. Lord Surfeit Perkineiss himself was known on many an occasion to sweeten the account of events to his own advantage, so I am little surprised to see such things encouraged.
“One of the most reprehensible of these childhood traumas came when we were both about eight years old. It was a small thing but seemed much larger at the time, as such occurrences do to young children of an impressionable age.
“We were with a small group of children at our favorite gathering place, an old linden tree with many well-loved low branches from which we would swing and have great adventures.”
“We have an old oak like that in our garden,” Alice broke in eagerly, but at a gesture from lizzie, subsided with a reluctant sigh. “Do go on, ma’am.”
Black Ethel sipped her rum and then, with a meaningful look at Alice -- who found herself suddenly feeling very meek indeed -- continued with her tale. “This day we had been playing revolution as we so often did. I was taking the role of Robespierre as I often did, and Surfeis was as usual Marie Antoinette. I enjoyed being on the opposite side from her. Our games were the only place where I could occasionally get my own back, as you English say, on my tormentor.”
Alice and Lizzie made murmuring sounds of sympathy and approval as the situation no doubt required.
“That day, I had captured Marie and confined her to the Bastille -- our favorite tree, naturalment! I was just in the midst of giving a stirring speech to the peasantry, rallying them to the cause, when Marie decided to make a break for it.
“Unfortunately, she made her escape by clouting another unfortunate child on the tête and shoving her to the ground. Poor Madeleine! She came away with a large bump of purple, which the naughty Mademoiselle Perkineiss blamed on me.
“Lord Perkineiss corrected me with a sound thrashing that made me forever his enemy. But worse than that was the sniggering face of Surfeis who watched my beating with laughter and glee. I swore from that moment I would have my revenge!”
Sunday, September 23, 2007
6.3
“What was your life like with the Perkineiss family?” Lizzie inquired, helping herself to a piece of cheese with rather renewed vigor for the dangerous labour involved.
Black Ethel blew an enigmatic smoke ring into the air, twirling her cigar to dissipate it just after, as if she were loathe to let anything last too long. “It was a dour time of much palaver about duty and a great deal about being grateful. Mostly about my being grateful for the kindliness of the Perkineisses.”
“What a trial to be dependent upon other people,” Lizzie said with a subdued voice but great feeling, casting a surreptitious eye toward Alice who was completely rapt with attention for their rescuer’s story and completely unaware that the remark may have had anything to do with her.
“Indeed,” said Black Ethel, who had not missed the glance toward Alice and understood more than she acknowledged. “While Lady Dowdy Perkineiss continually pressed me to maintain my good Christian duty, Lord Surfeit Perkineiss spoke to me only gruffly and at indifferent intervals when he chanced to notice that there was yet another mouth to feed in the shadow of the cathedral spire.”
“I shouldn’t like to live in the shadow of anything,” Alice said with a mouthful of orange. “It would be most vexing and hardly show one in the best light.”
“Quite,” said Black Ethel while regarding the oblivious child stuff yet more fruit in her mouth. “It is indeed vexing as you say to be in the shadows. I saw little chance in being out of it for some time, however. The Perkineiss family were my only claimed relatives, my mama being related to Lady Dowdy indirectly. That she had married a cheesemaker (however blessed) was regarded with a good deal of hand-wringing and distasteful alarm.”
“Even those years later?” Lizzie asked, considering her own secretive plans. Although she was hardly considering the hand of a cheesemaker!
“I was looked upon as a pitiable thing, which made no inroads into their Christian charity and pity as far as I could tell,” Black Ethel said with a dry laugh, stubbing out the last of her cigar and swilling her glass of rum so the brown liquid coated the sides of the glass. “The very worst of it was the daughter whose age fell closest to my own and who, it was assumed, was bound to become my ma meilleure amie. Instead, she became my bête noire!
Alice looked up with a puzzled expression. “Black dog?”
Lizzie was rather surprised to find her cousin on so very nearly the right cricket pitch. “Quite close, my dear. While it means literally a ‘black beast’ it has come to mean someone, or I suppose, something that has become the bane of your existence. This is what you meant, is it not?”
She turned to regard the pirate queen, who nodded sagely. “C’est vrai! And by the age of five, I had a most egregious bête noire.
“Her name was Miss Surfeis Perkineiss!”
Black Ethel blew an enigmatic smoke ring into the air, twirling her cigar to dissipate it just after, as if she were loathe to let anything last too long. “It was a dour time of much palaver about duty and a great deal about being grateful. Mostly about my being grateful for the kindliness of the Perkineisses.”
“What a trial to be dependent upon other people,” Lizzie said with a subdued voice but great feeling, casting a surreptitious eye toward Alice who was completely rapt with attention for their rescuer’s story and completely unaware that the remark may have had anything to do with her.
“Indeed,” said Black Ethel, who had not missed the glance toward Alice and understood more than she acknowledged. “While Lady Dowdy Perkineiss continually pressed me to maintain my good Christian duty, Lord Surfeit Perkineiss spoke to me only gruffly and at indifferent intervals when he chanced to notice that there was yet another mouth to feed in the shadow of the cathedral spire.”
“I shouldn’t like to live in the shadow of anything,” Alice said with a mouthful of orange. “It would be most vexing and hardly show one in the best light.”
“Quite,” said Black Ethel while regarding the oblivious child stuff yet more fruit in her mouth. “It is indeed vexing as you say to be in the shadows. I saw little chance in being out of it for some time, however. The Perkineiss family were my only claimed relatives, my mama being related to Lady Dowdy indirectly. That she had married a cheesemaker (however blessed) was regarded with a good deal of hand-wringing and distasteful alarm.”
“Even those years later?” Lizzie asked, considering her own secretive plans. Although she was hardly considering the hand of a cheesemaker!
“I was looked upon as a pitiable thing, which made no inroads into their Christian charity and pity as far as I could tell,” Black Ethel said with a dry laugh, stubbing out the last of her cigar and swilling her glass of rum so the brown liquid coated the sides of the glass. “The very worst of it was the daughter whose age fell closest to my own and who, it was assumed, was bound to become my ma meilleure amie. Instead, she became my bête noire!
Alice looked up with a puzzled expression. “Black dog?”
Lizzie was rather surprised to find her cousin on so very nearly the right cricket pitch. “Quite close, my dear. While it means literally a ‘black beast’ it has come to mean someone, or I suppose, something that has become the bane of your existence. This is what you meant, is it not?”
She turned to regard the pirate queen, who nodded sagely. “C’est vrai! And by the age of five, I had a most egregious bête noire.
“Her name was Miss Surfeis Perkineiss!”
Sunday, September 16, 2007
6.2
“Alors! Where to begin?" Black Ethel lit her cigar and puffed on it thoughtfully.
“Perhaps at the beginning,” Lizzie offered encouragingly. “Where were you born?”
“I was so small at the time, I can hardly recall,” the pirate queen smiled to show that this was indeed intended to be humorous. “But what was made clear to me at an early age was that my parents had not been there for much of that time. In fact, they had died and left me to my own devices, or rather, those of some distant relatives.
“I was raised in the town of Angoulême. Do you know it?”
“A medieval town, is it not?” asked clever Lizzie, impressing her cousin again with a passing thought that she must stuff cotton in her ears to keep all those facts retained. Alice herself had never been troubled with such an overabundance in that department.
“Indeed! Surrounded by the Remparts, which are ancient, and then the cathedral, which I knew so well. I was raised in the shadow of the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre d'Angoulême -- at least in the afternoons, that is. Early in the day, we often had sun.”
“We?” Alice inquired curiously as she stuffed another piece of fruit between her lips. “Who took care of you once your parents were gone? I have lost my father. That is to say, I have not mislaid him, but he is dead also. Like your parents. Mother is still alive, or so she was the last we saw her.”
Black Ethel looked at Alice with a penetrating gaze that soon made the latter drop her eyes and continue to gnaw on fruit rinds. “When I say we, I refer to my relatives, whom I believe to have been distantly in my mother’s family. The Perkineiss family was obliged to take me in after the unfortunate event of my parents’ demise.”
“How did they die?” Alice could not help asking despite the fear of another severe look from either the pirate queen or her cousin. Death being such a new subject for her, its fascinations were strong.
Rather than pierce her with another steely look, however, Black Ethel looked thoughtful. “It was a rather unexpected cheese-related accident,” she said at last. “The making of hard cheese involving a press has always proved to be a dangerous undertaking. My father, being of a rather mechanical bent, had invented what he hoped would be a stunning new machinery for the pressing of cheese and revolutionize the industry for this modern age. Unfortunately, due to a small flaw in the bolting apparatus, the pressing aperture went wild completely crushing my father and mortally injuring my mother who had been assisting him in the venture. Her last words to me were ‘Always treasure the curds of life.’”
“Wise words,” Lizzie murmured with some faltering of confidence that they were in fact the appropriate words to offer in such a peculiar instance.
“C’est vrai! My only other remembrance of my beloved parents was a small plaque from the cheese press that my father had placed on the side in a moment of whimsy. We hung it over the fireplace in my room when I went to stay with the Perkineisses. Lady Dowdy -- that was the mother of the family -- she thought it would do me good and teach me my good Christian duty.”
“What did the sign say?” Lizzie asked, her interest piqued.
Black Ethel smiled and in that moment the two young women could see the lonely little girl she had been. “It said , ‘Blessed are the cheesemakers.’ I will always believe that with all my heart.”
“Perhaps at the beginning,” Lizzie offered encouragingly. “Where were you born?”
“I was so small at the time, I can hardly recall,” the pirate queen smiled to show that this was indeed intended to be humorous. “But what was made clear to me at an early age was that my parents had not been there for much of that time. In fact, they had died and left me to my own devices, or rather, those of some distant relatives.
“I was raised in the town of Angoulême. Do you know it?”
“A medieval town, is it not?” asked clever Lizzie, impressing her cousin again with a passing thought that she must stuff cotton in her ears to keep all those facts retained. Alice herself had never been troubled with such an overabundance in that department.
“Indeed! Surrounded by the Remparts, which are ancient, and then the cathedral, which I knew so well. I was raised in the shadow of the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre d'Angoulême -- at least in the afternoons, that is. Early in the day, we often had sun.”
“We?” Alice inquired curiously as she stuffed another piece of fruit between her lips. “Who took care of you once your parents were gone? I have lost my father. That is to say, I have not mislaid him, but he is dead also. Like your parents. Mother is still alive, or so she was the last we saw her.”
Black Ethel looked at Alice with a penetrating gaze that soon made the latter drop her eyes and continue to gnaw on fruit rinds. “When I say we, I refer to my relatives, whom I believe to have been distantly in my mother’s family. The Perkineiss family was obliged to take me in after the unfortunate event of my parents’ demise.”
“How did they die?” Alice could not help asking despite the fear of another severe look from either the pirate queen or her cousin. Death being such a new subject for her, its fascinations were strong.
Rather than pierce her with another steely look, however, Black Ethel looked thoughtful. “It was a rather unexpected cheese-related accident,” she said at last. “The making of hard cheese involving a press has always proved to be a dangerous undertaking. My father, being of a rather mechanical bent, had invented what he hoped would be a stunning new machinery for the pressing of cheese and revolutionize the industry for this modern age. Unfortunately, due to a small flaw in the bolting apparatus, the pressing aperture went wild completely crushing my father and mortally injuring my mother who had been assisting him in the venture. Her last words to me were ‘Always treasure the curds of life.’”
“Wise words,” Lizzie murmured with some faltering of confidence that they were in fact the appropriate words to offer in such a peculiar instance.
“C’est vrai! My only other remembrance of my beloved parents was a small plaque from the cheese press that my father had placed on the side in a moment of whimsy. We hung it over the fireplace in my room when I went to stay with the Perkineisses. Lady Dowdy -- that was the mother of the family -- she thought it would do me good and teach me my good Christian duty.”
“What did the sign say?” Lizzie asked, her interest piqued.
Black Ethel smiled and in that moment the two young women could see the lonely little girl she had been. “It said , ‘Blessed are the cheesemakers.’ I will always believe that with all my heart.”
Sunday, September 09, 2007
6.1
Black Ethel saw the looks of dismay on the two young faces and laughed out loud. “Set your minds at ease, little ones. I am not setting you to work as maids. Madeleine! Perhaps you could move your accoutrements out of my cabin for a time.”
As if from the shadows, a small dark figure with a pale face swept silently across the room and vanished at once with the mop and bucket and a whispered, “excusez-moi!” It was impossible to tell from the brief glimpse they had whether Madeleine was a small child, a tiny woman or simply a hunched over figure of normal size. She whisked away so quickly that they were left only with the impression of trailing black clothes and a pallid visage that would make Aunt Susan swoon with envy.
Black Ethel threw her tricorne hat upon the broad oak desk and lounged on the stout chair behind it. “Assez-vous! Please be comfortable, take your ease. You are not prisoners here, you may do as you wish.” She laughed, however, and gazed shrewdly at the two young women. “However, you may find it safer to stay close to my cabin. I cannot keep my men in check too much, they are not prisoners either. Many of them are not well-accustomed to…” She paused and looked them up and down. “Let us say, women of your upbringing. You have lived sheltered lives of little dangerous experience, no?”
Alice and Lizzie both blushed to show this was indeed true. Merely imagining the rough attentions of the pirate queen’s uncouth crew brought them to the edge of swooning. Alice tried hard to imagine what sort of conversation she might have with the one-armed rapscallion who had gurgled a sort of greeting as they walked to the captain’s cabin. Lizzie, meanwhile, tried to picture herself dancing a scotch reel with the swarthy brute who at present berated the other pirates on the deck who were repairing the rigging as best they could while he stomped back and forth on his peg leg.
It began to dawn on them both in their separate musings that the life of a pirate was one fraught with much danger of bodily harm.
“Would you care for something to eat?” Black Ethel asked them, the kind meaning of her words somewhat tempered by her brash tone of voice. Clearly she was more accustomed to ordering around her gang of buccaneers than to conversing over a tea tray.
“That would be most kind,” Lizzie said with renewed spirit. Food would return the rosy glow to Alice’s cheeks and restore her own sense of confidence, Lizzie was certain.
“Bosun!” Black Ethel shouted, causing the two genteel women to jump with alarm. “Bring something tasty from the larder!” In a minute or so, the door opened to admit a very familiar figure. It was the nattily-hatted bosun of the deathly pallor and the kindly manner. Lizzie and Alice could not have been more surprised to see Captain Bellamy himself.
The mysterious bosun laid a simple repast upon the desk, which nonetheless looked far more appetizing than anything they had seen upon the Demeter. There were many cheeses and dry crackers, but there was also fresh fruit -- a veritable miracle it would seem. Alice could feel her mouth beginning to water, but looked quickly over at Lizzie to see if she would allow any compromise of manners. Finding her cousin firm in her regard of propriety, Alice instead caught a glance from the bosun who gave her a conspiratorial wink and a roguish (if somewhat toothy) smile. He still looked cadaverous to an alarming degree, but seemed far more cheerful to be on board the Bonny Read.
After a proper incantation of begging grace, Lizzie and her cousin tucked into the plain supper with a very keen appetite. Lizzie was the first to recover her sense of conversational requirements. “We owe you much for your rescue of us, Mademoiselle Capitaine.”
“Think nothing of it. I shall enjoy the conversation as we sail to France.”
Lizzie wanted to ask about the possibility of being returned to England instead, but decided it would not be prudent to press upon such short acquaintance. Instead she tried a different tack for conversation. “If it is not too personal a question,” Lizzie began with some hesitation, uncertain what were acceptable topics to a pirate, “I would be very interested to know how it was you became a renowned pirate.”
“Me too,” Alice chimed in with a mouthful of cheese, which earned her a reproving glance from Lizzie, which she chose to ignore.
“Well,” Black Ethel said as she inhaled the aroma of a Cuban cigar, “It is a very exciting tale which I shall be glad to relate.”
As if from the shadows, a small dark figure with a pale face swept silently across the room and vanished at once with the mop and bucket and a whispered, “excusez-moi!” It was impossible to tell from the brief glimpse they had whether Madeleine was a small child, a tiny woman or simply a hunched over figure of normal size. She whisked away so quickly that they were left only with the impression of trailing black clothes and a pallid visage that would make Aunt Susan swoon with envy.
Black Ethel threw her tricorne hat upon the broad oak desk and lounged on the stout chair behind it. “Assez-vous! Please be comfortable, take your ease. You are not prisoners here, you may do as you wish.” She laughed, however, and gazed shrewdly at the two young women. “However, you may find it safer to stay close to my cabin. I cannot keep my men in check too much, they are not prisoners either. Many of them are not well-accustomed to…” She paused and looked them up and down. “Let us say, women of your upbringing. You have lived sheltered lives of little dangerous experience, no?”
Alice and Lizzie both blushed to show this was indeed true. Merely imagining the rough attentions of the pirate queen’s uncouth crew brought them to the edge of swooning. Alice tried hard to imagine what sort of conversation she might have with the one-armed rapscallion who had gurgled a sort of greeting as they walked to the captain’s cabin. Lizzie, meanwhile, tried to picture herself dancing a scotch reel with the swarthy brute who at present berated the other pirates on the deck who were repairing the rigging as best they could while he stomped back and forth on his peg leg.
It began to dawn on them both in their separate musings that the life of a pirate was one fraught with much danger of bodily harm.
“Would you care for something to eat?” Black Ethel asked them, the kind meaning of her words somewhat tempered by her brash tone of voice. Clearly she was more accustomed to ordering around her gang of buccaneers than to conversing over a tea tray.
“That would be most kind,” Lizzie said with renewed spirit. Food would return the rosy glow to Alice’s cheeks and restore her own sense of confidence, Lizzie was certain.
“Bosun!” Black Ethel shouted, causing the two genteel women to jump with alarm. “Bring something tasty from the larder!” In a minute or so, the door opened to admit a very familiar figure. It was the nattily-hatted bosun of the deathly pallor and the kindly manner. Lizzie and Alice could not have been more surprised to see Captain Bellamy himself.
The mysterious bosun laid a simple repast upon the desk, which nonetheless looked far more appetizing than anything they had seen upon the Demeter. There were many cheeses and dry crackers, but there was also fresh fruit -- a veritable miracle it would seem. Alice could feel her mouth beginning to water, but looked quickly over at Lizzie to see if she would allow any compromise of manners. Finding her cousin firm in her regard of propriety, Alice instead caught a glance from the bosun who gave her a conspiratorial wink and a roguish (if somewhat toothy) smile. He still looked cadaverous to an alarming degree, but seemed far more cheerful to be on board the Bonny Read.
After a proper incantation of begging grace, Lizzie and her cousin tucked into the plain supper with a very keen appetite. Lizzie was the first to recover her sense of conversational requirements. “We owe you much for your rescue of us, Mademoiselle Capitaine.”
“Think nothing of it. I shall enjoy the conversation as we sail to France.”
Lizzie wanted to ask about the possibility of being returned to England instead, but decided it would not be prudent to press upon such short acquaintance. Instead she tried a different tack for conversation. “If it is not too personal a question,” Lizzie began with some hesitation, uncertain what were acceptable topics to a pirate, “I would be very interested to know how it was you became a renowned pirate.”
“Me too,” Alice chimed in with a mouthful of cheese, which earned her a reproving glance from Lizzie, which she chose to ignore.
“Well,” Black Ethel said as she inhaled the aroma of a Cuban cigar, “It is a very exciting tale which I shall be glad to relate.”
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