Far from the Sea

The Tether

Boscastle, Cornwall 1730

The storm passed in the night, but it left a dismal residue on the world. Liesel stood on a cliff overlooking the sea. The sky and sea were the same bleak shade and nearly impossible distinguish one from the other. Below her, the waves flung themselves angrily onto the rocks below. The stones sat like sharp, broken teeth in giant maw of the shore where her great-grandmother had washed up all those years ago.

Ilsa-Ermentrude Braun was fourteen and had been on her way to a life of indentured servitude in the colonies. Fortune shone down upon her, snaring The Heimdall in a storm and breaking its hull to bits. Ilsa was the only survivor. She married Geordie Tallack, a local cooper and in Cornwall she stayed. Every first born daughter in her line had since born her name. Ilsa-Friederika. Ilsa-Bernadette. And most recently, Ilsa-Liesel.

The girl descendants of the original Ilsa had all followed identical paths. They married young and set up house in the same village where they'd been born. Faithfully, they carried out all duties of house and home and birthed as many babies as God would give them. The art of knitting was passed down from mother to daughter. They gained a reputation as skilled craftswomen, selling their crafts to the locals and nearby shops.

The obligations of the past clung to Liesel's shoulders like a too-tight dress she longed so shed. Though she was only seventeen, her future was decided for her. There could be no doubt about the kind of life she would lead if she stayed in Cornwall, but she wanted more.

She recalled last night's dream and inched back from the cliff's edge, but kept her eyes trained on the horizon. Any moment now, a ship would appear. A wind sliced through her, sending her dark hair dancing around her face. She beat back the errant locks from her eyes with numb fingers. Though she was chilled to the bone and her mouth was coated with salt from the unyielding spray, she stood her ground, determined to wait for the ship.

"There you are!"

Liesel gave her younger sister only a fleeting glance before groaning, "Go home, Gretchen."

"Mummy sent me to find you. What are you doing out here?"

No answer came, so Gretchen followed her glance to the empty horizon. "Oh. Is that today?"

"I'm busy. Get on with you."

"I don't know why you're wasting time out here. The whole village's waiting for it. With all the shouting, you'll know the moment it pulls into the harbor."

"Hush." Though she knew her sister's words were true, she wanted to be the first to see the ship. "Don't you have chores to do?"

"Sure. Same as you."

"Mine are almost done."

"Almost," Gretchen said with a laugh. "Mummy will have your hide if they're not done by supper."

"I said hush!"

"Fine." Defiance flashed over her face, yet her voice betrayed her hurt at being spurned by her sister. She slunk away down the hill, calling out, "I won't ever try to help you again."

Liesel sighed. It was nothing she hadn't heard from Gretchen before. The girl would sulk for a while, but then return to her annoying self with renewed vigor. She shook off their exchange and adjusted her stance, returning to her vigil.

Far, far away, a dark smear parted the mists. It was too small to be certain if it were anything more than a ripple in the ocean or a water droplet stuck in her lashes. She raised on tiptoe, craning her neck, and narrowing her eyes in focus. Yes. There it was.

Sails.

With her heart thrumming wildly in her ears, Liesel lifted her skirts and ran. Soaked, their heavy weight slapped against her legs. The only thought in her mind was getting to the harbor, but she had no desire to meet the ship looking a tangled, sopping wreck. She detoured down the gravelly path to her family's modest stone house, rushed upstairs to the sleeping quarters she shared with Gretchen, and shimmied out of her clothes. She laid them across the bed to dry and dug inside the chest at the foot of her bed for a clean clothes.

The skirt she chose was the same muddy color as all of her others. She ran her fingers along its threadbare hem and frowned before tossing it aside. She reached deep into the chest's bowels to retrieve her best dress. It was blue, adorned with white flowers and usually reserved for special occasions. "This is a special occasion," she murmured to herself, undoing its row of tiny buttons and slipping it over her head. She repinned her hair into place and set off down the stairs.

"And where are you off to in such a rush?" boomed from the shadows of the downstairs room.

Startled, she stopped in her tracks and grasped for a suitable answer. "To village to fetch the items that Mummy sent me for."

Her father's left eyebrow quirked. He raked his eyes over her and gave a speculative "hmm," before adding, "I heard The Muse is back from the colonies. Docked in Falmouth early this mornin'."

Liesel's silence confirmed his statement.

"They'll be sending a boat with its crew. Should be here any minute now." He paused for a response, but when she offered none, he finished for her. "You're going to see him."

She gave a small nod, and her father sighed roughly. "Men like that, can't settle down. Won't settle down."

It was a conversation they'd had before. Liesel found her voice and pointed out, "You did."

He rubbed the metal boot where his left lower leg should have been. His shin had been crushed in several places when a ship's mast had cracked and fallen onto it. Since it had been removed, he'd not set another foot on deck. The stories of his life as a lad were legendary: women in every port, liquor-fueled brawls, dangerous storms, and months of high-seas adventure. He loved the sea but feared its control over the young men that navigated its waters. A relationship with any sailor was strictly forbidden. He'd sworn that his daughters would be spared the pain of being saddled at home with babes while their husbands were out gallivanting. Liesel had done her best to hide her affections, but her father's sharp eyes saw through the disguise.

He stood at full height, towering over her as he sidled up close. With a grunt, he admitted, "That's true. But as long as that boy's got four working limbs, he'll not stay put. You'd do best to heed my warning, girl." He planted a kiss atop her forehead and turned, the boot scraping against the floor as he made his way to his workshop at the back of the house.

Liesel stayed frozen in place until she heard the door slam behind him. Once certain he wasn't coming back, she gathered the fabric of her dress in her fists and made haste to the harbor.

As she ran, her father's nagging words echoed unceasingly in her mind. She'd made a habit of brushing aside his warnings and would have been happy do the same to this one. Except that it amplified her own fears – fears that grew harder to ignore the closer she drew to the harbor.

~***~

Liesel may be just a tad headstrong.  But what seventeen year old girl actually listens to her father - especially when he's standing in the way of what she wants most in the world?   

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