The sea was a conduit of knowledge – Bethany’s father used to say. Not that she remembered much about him. At the age of two, her mother dragged her back to land. A pirates life was not for a small child. Especially since she learnt to swear in several different languages.
As she gazed out of her bedroom window, the sea sang to her with gusto. A brave, fearless warrior, not bound by the rules of marriage and reliance. Her mother believed it was the only way she could be reborn into the perfect woman. Nothing would do that – the sea was her mistress.
She stared at her wedding dress, but all she could see were the waves lapping to shore. Her mind like the passing stars, shining a way to a place she had never forgotten. Sea shanty lyrics, which sent her off to sleep, repeated softly. A sailor’s life . . . Had she imagined is soft tones sending her off to sleep? Part of her thought she did.
However, when she dreamt, life was full of colour, life, and fun. Awake and white washed out all her inspirations. All that she had to look forward to was rules of how a woman should behave.
‘Go to bed early, you’ve a long day ahead of you tomorrow,’ her mother said.
One last look at her wedding dress, Bethany decided what she must do. Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum, she sang softly, before ripping apart the white silk. It would do nicely as a rope. Tying the knots, like her father taught her, she secured it to the brass bedframe and lowered it to the ground.
‘Sorry Mum,’ she said, as she climbed down.
Being trapped to the land wasn’t for her.