Signore Dampier

Tuscany
September 10th, 1708

            Francesca slammed her oak bedroom door and threw herself onto her peach bedspread and punched her pillow. It was happening again. In a few days, Papa would leave. He’d be gone for weeks, taking Antonio and Sebastian with him. Once more, she would have to stay home. Left behind. Abandoned. I never get to go anywhere! It’s not fair!

            Francesca wanted to see the whole world. Everywhere else seemed so much more fascinating than home. But no. She had to stay here with Nana. It wasn’t her fault she was only eight, or that she was a girl. Not that I don’t love spending time with Nana, but still...

            This time, Antonio and Sebastian would get to see Salerno, Papa’s hometown, and she wouldn’t. Antonio would get to spend his thirteenth birthday with their aunts and cousins, and she couldn’t. Just last month Papa had taken her brothers to Livorno and not her. Last year they even went to Sienna and Florence without her.

            She sat up. “Fine,” she said aloud to her empty bedroom. “If they won’t take me on their adventures, I’ll go on my own!” She stuck out her tongue at her bedroom door and her family beyond it who were probably still at dinner downstairs.

            Papa had looked very patient between bites of his lamb shank when he had explained that he didn’t want to take the carriage in case Nana needed it to go to town. That he and Sebi and Antonio would go on horseback, which he preferred to the rattling, dusty carriage. Papa had waved his fork as he said that her horse, Achilles, was too young and high-spirited for such a trip and she was too inexperienced as a rider.

            She had argued, of course. Maybe Achilles did love to run a bit wild, and maybe he startled easily, but a trip like this would teach him better. And she and Achilles could ride together forever. She knew it. She wouldn’t hold them back. She wouldn’t.

            Then Papa got that look—the set jaw, thin lips, and narrowed grey eyes. The one that meant that he had made up his mind, and nothing she could say would change it. That’s when she had thrown down her napkin, yelled that it wasn’t fair, and stormed up the stairs.

            But where should I go on my adventure, she mused. She couldn’t just follow them.

            I could go to Florence. Sebi described it as a place full of palaces, important people and art works by great artists. That sounded amazing. Or Sienna. Antonio had talked about the horse race in the main square. That sounded exciting too. But that would be copying what they already did. I want to do something better. Something they never even dreamed of.

            She paced the terracotta tiles of her bedroom. She stopped at the window looking past the empty cobblestone courtyard, to the hills in the distance beyond the gate. The world lay out there, waiting. Where could she go that would make her brothers’ jaws drop in amazement and envy?

            As she turned, her glance fell on the bookshelf over her bed. Of course! One of the books was called A New Voyage Around the World. She’d borrowed it from Sebi, who had borrowed it from Papa. While she didn’t understand some of it, she loved the part about an amazing place the author visited—about the strange rats as tall as a man that jumped on big hind feet and carried pouches for their babies, and about the dark-skinned, painted natives. That must be the most interesting place in all the world. That’s it! I’ll go to Australia! Sebi and Antonio have never been across the sea! Of course, I’ll be gone for weeks. Sebi and Antonio will be so jealous! And Papa will miss me, and he’ll be sorry that he didn’t bring me along.

            Now that she had figured out where, she needed to figure out how. One thing she knew for certain. Eight-year-old girls never ran away to have adventures, but eight-year-old boys might. As far as she could tell, boys could do just about anything they wanted. So, I need to be a boy. Well, I can manage that. How hard can it be if Sebi can do it?

            She opened her door and peeked out. The hall and classroom stood empty. She moved quietly past Sebi’s room, listening for a moment at his door. Everyone was probably still at dinner. She listened at the top of the stairs, but only heard the normal babble of a school full of students eating in the main hall. She went back to Sebi’s room slipping inside.

            It took only a few moments in his armoire to find an old pair of breeches he’d outgrown and a white, wide-collar shirt he seldom wore. He’d notice if one of his frock coats went missing, but she borrowed a faded, dark blue vest. She rolled everything up and hurried back to her room. Her riding boots would work, but she’d need to do something about her hair.  Long hair would be a dead giveaway.

            She snuck down to the sewing room, waited for the scullery maid to finish lighting the fire in the hearth, then went to her governess’ sewing box rummaging through until she found the scissors. Signora Alvarez would be cross, but Francesca would bring them back when she returned.

            Back in her room, she pulled out her valise, frowning at the embroidered daisies covering it. No boy would be seen dead carrying that, but there might be something in the storage room. She snuck past her governess’ room, pausing when she heard a rustling inside, but she made it safely. She searched quietly among old toys, linens, and disused coats until she found a brown leather shoulder bag with a wide flap over the top, perfect for an overseas adventure.

            Once in her bedroom, she loaded the bag with Sebi’s clothes, the scissors, a spare pair of stockings, and a few handfuls of almonds, pistachios, and walnuts tied up in a cloth. Then she added the book about Dampier’s voyage so she could read about Australia again.

            She was ready. She went to the window and swung it open. She could start now, but the sun had set, and a chill breeze blew in sending a shiver down her spine. Moon shadows crept across the road beyond the gate, dark and menacing. She wanted to be brave, but it felt a lot easier when the sun shined.

            The chamber maid knocked, coming to help her undress for bed. In the morning, she thought. I’ll leave first thing.

            She had trouble falling asleep. Fear and excitement swirled in her stomach, like she’d eaten a dozen live snakes. She stared at the ceiling and thought about Dampier’s voyage. He had taken months to reach Australia, but then, he had stopped at many strange places along the way. If I go straight there, I should be there in a few days. Maybe I should bring a rope as a leash so I can bring one of the jumping rats home. Otherwise, Sebi and Antonio might not believe I went at all. After that, she faded into sleep.

 

            In the morning, Francesca jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed in her riding habit. It was her only outfit that didn’t lace up the back and the jacket was masculine enough to work with Sebi’s clothes. She slung the leather bag over her shoulder then paused. She should leave word, so they didn’t worry too much. At her desk she scribbled a note:

            That ought to make Sebi and Antonio green with envy.

            Only servants stirred as she hurried downstairs and out to the stables. The sky was clear, the air crisp, with a touch of the coming fall stinging her cheeks. Even the hay in the stable smelled fresh and bright. Maybe it was the promise of adventure that made everything so sharp and clear.

            In the tack room, she found a length of rope curled on a hook and added it to her bag. Achilles tossed his head in excitement when she slipped into his stall.

            Usually, Cassio helped her saddle Achilles, but she didn’t see him, so she bridled him and hauled the heavy sidesaddle onto his back on her own. As she led Achilles out and climbed into the saddle, she spotted Cassio beside the stable. She wanted to tell him goodbye and to ask if it was alright to keep a jumpy rat in the stable, but it was safer not to say anything. Cassio waved as she rode off.

            Francesca rode downhill through the red-leafed grape vines, dying back for the winter. She needed someplace secluded to transform into a boy and the abandoned barn would be perfect. After that, she would head to Cascina, and the road beyond would take her to Livorno where she could find a ship to Australia.

            Achilles’ hooves rustled through leaflitter as they left the vineyard and entered the woods. The wind swirled gold and yellow leaves past. Once out into the pasture, the sheep, plump with wool, stared up at her. She soon came to the tumbled down barn, now just three grey stone walls at the edge of the pasture.

            Dismounting and leaving Achilles to nibble grass, she took her bag into the barn, looked around carefully, then stripped out of her riding habit and petticoats and pulled on Sebi’s breeches and shirt. The shirt hung loose, but not horribly so, and once she put on the vest and her coat, it worked reasonably well. The breeches though, would not stay up. They were way too big. Luckily, she had the rope for her jumpy rat. She used it as a belt, wrapping it around and around her waist.

            Then she rummaged in the bag and pulled out the scissors. She paused. This was what Nana called a crossroads moment. One way or the other. She could either go home or go on. She remembered another of Nana’s sayings. “Strength and courage, for life is a passage.” She grabbed a handful of hair, raised the scissors, and snipped. The handful came loose, and she looked at it for a moment, auburn strands wafting in the breeze. She opened her hand and watched it float away, suddenly foreign, like a sea creature swimming through air. She grabbed handful after handful and cut it away. She wished she had thought of bringing a mirror, but too late now.

            As she searched her head for stray hairs, she heard leaves rustling and voices approaching. 

            Oh, no! I’m not ready! She wanted to practice walking and talking like a boy before anyone saw her. Maybe she could hide.

            She rolled up her skirts and petticoats quickly and stuffed them and the scissors into the bag. It took a lot of shoving to get it to close. She meant to hide, but she was kicking the pile of hair behind a rock and pulling her bangs down over her face when Antonio rode from behind some bushes on his chestnut horse, Brutus. Maria, an eleven-year-old girl who was learning to be a dairy maid rode behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist. She swung her feet carelessly and chattered to Antonio.

            Antonio, who was nearly thirteen, four and a half years older than Francesca, had dark hair and high cheekbones like papa, and papa’s long lanky build. He reigned in Brutus, looking at Francesca with his head tilted to one side.

            Maria was a golden-haired girl with warm-colored, creamy skin and bright red cheeks. Her eyes and mouth opened wide in surprise. “What on Ear—” she yelped a little and took her arms from around Antonio, staring at him and rubbing a spot on her wrist.

            Antonio took off his tricorn hat with a smile. “Good day, young sir,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Antonio DiCesare, and this is Maria. And who might you be?”

            Francesca panicked. At least he didn’t recognize her, but she should have come up with a name! Why didn’t I think of that? Luckily Antonio and Maria were dismounting, and whispering together, which gave her a moment to think. She tried to stand like Sebi did, chest puffed out, leaning casually against the stone wall of the barn, with an arrogant tilt to her head.

            Only one name came to mind, the name of the author of the book in her bag.  She dropped her voice low. “My name is William Dampier. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

            Maria stepped forward, as if to say something, but Antonio tugged her backwards stepping in front of her saying. “So, Signore Dampier, what brings you to our land?”

            “Oh, well,” she said with a small cough at keeping her voice low, “I was just passing through and saw this tumbled down barn and thought it a good place to rest.”

            “Of course,” said Antonio. With another tilt of his head he added, “You look strangely familiar.”

            “I don’t think we’ve met,” she replied, glad that it was Antonio and not Sebi. Sebi would have recognized her right away.

            “And where are you headed, if I may ask?”

            Francesca looked at her nails and tried to sound unconcerned. “I’m going to Australia, of course. It’s the most amazing place in all the world.”

            Antonio gave a small cough, and Maria gave a huff. Maria began, “That’s completely—” Then Antonio turned to her quickly, put an arm around her shoulder and turned them both away. They spoke together quietly, and Francesca tried to hear what they were saying, but only made out Maria’s shrill, “won’t believe,” and “can’t be serious.”

            Francesca was inching closer to listen when Antonio turned back to her with a smile. “What my friend meant to say is ‘that is completely amazing.’ Neither of us have met a world traveler so young as yourself before.”

            Maria gave Antonio a glare. “I’m going,” she said with another huff. She turned to Francesca. “Safe travels, Signore Whatever.” Then she stalked back across the sheep pasture shaking her head.

            “Never mind her,” said Antonio. “We men know what a pain girls can be.”

            “Yes, of course,” said Francesca, a little vexed. “Such a pain.” She wanted to ask what he was doing, riding around with the new dairy maid, especially when he was always saying how annoying girls were, but she didn’t think a stranger would mention it.

            “Take my little sister, for instance. All she does is ride her horse and complain.”

            Francesca stuck her chin out, but he continued, turning toward Achilles, grazing nearby. “What a coincidence, my sister has a horse very much like yours. What’s his name?”

            Her mind went blank. “I, I just call him Horse.”

            “Hmmm,” said Antonio, sitting down on a fallen bit of wall. “So, tell me about this trip, please. It sounds fascinating.”

            “Australia is just the most interesting place ever. They have big jumping rats and painted people. It’s on the other side of the world. Australia is much more interesting than any place my brothers have been.”

            Antonio smiled. “I’m sure. And how long does it take to get there?”

            “Oh, a week sailing at least. Maybe two or three. I’m headed to Cascina now, and then to the port to find a ship.”

            Antonio looked astonished. “Well, what do you know, I happen to be headed to Cascina as well. Let’s ride together, shall we?”

            Francesca hesitated. Part of her worried that Antonio would see through her disguise, or she’d say something to give herself away, but a larger part wanted the company. Riding into town alone seemed scary. “Yes, let’s.”

            They gathered their horses and Francesca’s bag and mounted. She remembered at the last moment to ride astride like a boy. It felt uncomfortable with her sidesaddle, but she managed, hoping Antonio wouldn’t notice the saddle. Turning downhill, they crunched through the dead leaves of the forest toward the main road to Cascina. Neither said anything until they gained the road. Then they rode side by side.

            “This trip of yours fascinates me,” Antonio told her. “All that travel must be quite an ordeal for a young man such as yourself. What made you decide to go so far away?”

            “Oh, no. Traveling isn’t an ordeal, it’s an adventure! The best adventure. Everything is new and different. I can’t imagine anything more exciting than seeing a whole new place that is unlike anything you’ve seen before.” She realized she’d let her voice rise to its normal tone in her excitement, so she cleared her throat and dropped her voice low again. It took on more of a bitter tone than she intended. “I don’t want to go somewhere boring, like the rest of my family. I want to go somewhere better. Then they’ll see.”

            “I’m sure they will,” murmured Antonio. “Won’t they be worried about you?”

            She glanced over at him. “No. I don’t think they’ll miss me. They never pay much attention to me. And anyway, I left a note.”

            “That’s not true.” Then he added, “I’m sure they would miss you.”

            She shrugged. “They won’t even be around. My grandmother will miss me, though.”

            They rode on for a while, winding between hills and woods before Antonio ventured. “You must be very brave to go on such a dangerous trip, what with pirates, and storms, and shipwrecks and such. I know I would be scared.”

            Francesca felt her shoulders tighten and gripped the reigns harder. She hadn’t thought about those things. “I’m not scared,” she lied. She focused on the big jumping rats. “It will be amazing.”

            Antonio shifted in the saddle. “Travel isn’t all great. I’ve traveled a bit with my father, and as I’m sure you know, sometimes it is pretty uncomfortable.” He went on to tell her about how saddle sore he got riding long distances, and about sometimes not being able to find lodging along the way, once even having to sleep outside on the ground.

            Francesca only half listened, thinking about pirates and storms. They fell silent for a while, listening to the clop of the horses’ hooves and the twitters of birds. As they were passing a few farms on the outskirts of town, Antonio said, “You must be well-off. I imagine a voyage of that length must be quite expensive, especially if you plan to bring your horse, Horse.”

            Francesca furrowed her brow. “Is it?” That hadn’t occurred to her, though now it seemed obvious. “I mean, well, yes, of course. I… I was…”

            “I see,” he said as she floundered. “You’re planning to work for your passage. I’m sure they can use a strong back, and you look like a stout fellow. They’ll have you swabbing decks and hauling ropes in no time.”

            Francesca nodded, a little stunned. She had been so focused on Australia; she hadn’t really thought about getting there. Her excitement waned, but she rallied. It was only a week, and she didn’t mind hard work if it meant she could go somewhere special—and make her brothers jealous. “Maybe I can even climb up the mast and be a lookout.”

            He turned to look at her and his eyes lingered for a while. “You are brave, aren’t you.”

            Francesca smiled, though she felt less brave by the minute.

            They had passed the church and graveyard where Francesca’s mother was buried and were entering the town center. She had been there often for crowded market days or to go to church on holidays. Today seemed eerily quiet. There were only a few booths set up in the main square and a handful of people wandered past, going about their business.

            “Are you thirsty?” Antonio asked. “Can I buy you a drink to wish you bon voyage?”

            Francesca nodded, realizing how dry and scratchy her throat felt from speaking so low. Antonio led the way to a disreputable looking taverna and dismounted. Francesca pulled back. She’d never been in a drinking establishment like this. Nana and Signora Alvarez would be scandalized to see a good girl in there, then she remembered that she was now a boy, and dismounted from Ach… Horse. She nervously followed Antonio inside.

            The dark interior smelled of stale ale and the old straw strewn on the floor. At that early hour, only a few men were scattered around the tables, most sitting alone, some eating, all nursing drinks. Francesca wondered if Antonio had been here before, or if he came here often. She didn’t think Papa would approve. She realized she didn’t know much about what her oldest brother did with his spare time. She didn’t know that much about him at all.

            Antonio pointed her toward a chair and headed to the bar. Francesca sat nervously, fidgeting and pushing her chopped hair out of her eyes, scanning the men in the room. She wasn’t sure what she thought they might do, fight, murder each other, murder her? Most just stared at their drinks.

            Antonio spoke with the man behind the bar for quite a long time. Occasionally they would both stop to look over at her. She wondered what they were talking about. Finally, the big man laughed, tousled Antonio’s hair and slid two tankards across the bar. Antonio took a few coins from his pocket for the man, then came toward Francesca with the drinks.

            Antonio slid a tankard across to her and took a sip of his own as he sat down. She thanked him and took a taste, wrinkling her nose. Beer wasn’t new to her; they sometimes had a little with dinner. But this was darker and tasted much stronger than what she’d had before. Still, she felt thirsty, and it was wet. She took a couple gulps.

            Antonio leaned back in his chair, smiling. “The barkeep, Fredrico, used to be a sailor. I asked if he’d come over and tell us about his adventures. I thought you might like to hear.”

            Francesca nodded enthusiastically.

            Fredrico wandered over to their table wiping his hands on a rag. He was a big man, balding, and plump around the middle, but with massive forearms and a friendly smile. He put one foot up on a chair and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Greetings, lad. Antonio tells me you’re thinking of going to sea.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Francesca, trying to match the man’s bass voice. “I want to go to Australia.”

            The big man’s face went dark, and he gave a shiver. “Oh, no lad. You don’t want to go there. Even the bravest seamen don’t want to go there. Why, that’s the reason I gave up the sea and work here, well inland.” He gave another shudder and made a face. “Australia.”

            A chill lodged in Francesca’s stomach, and she took another gulp to warm it. “Why? What happened?”

            Fredrico took a seat and absently wiped the table with the rag. “I’ll tell ya. I was crewing on a ship called the Augustina. We were off Cape Doubtfire with clear skies, a steady wind abaft our beam, running at ten knots when we, quite literally, ran into a horrible beast.”

            Francesca took another sip. Her head felt a little fuzzy and fear knotted in her stomach, but she couldn’t look away from the storyteller.

            “First there came this thump and shudder,” he said, thumping his fist on the table and making Francesca jump. “As if the Augustina had run aground in open ocean. Up the thing comes, oozing onto the aft deck, ripping and tearing oak beams like twigs. Tentacles rose into the sky—”

            “Wh, what was it?” interrupted Francesca.

            “Oh, a kraken, to be sure. A monster squid that eats ships.”

            Antonio leaned forward with a half-smile.  “And how long would you say the tentacles were?”

            “Forty feet at the least!” Fredrico exclaimed stretching out his arms.

            Francesca felt as if a tentacle had wrapped around her chest and squeezed, her breathing shallow. Antonio put his hands over his mouth.

            Fredrico continued. “It seemed as though there were a hundred sinuous limbs.” He held his hands curled, one above the other as though wielding a two-handed axe. “We fought like lions, me with my sword and ax, my crew with pistols and muskets and any manner of weapon.”

            He shook his head sadly. “Men were seized by those snaking tentacles and stuffed into the beast’s maw, weapons and all.”

            Antonio got up and turned away with his hands to his face. Fredrico glared at him, then leaned toward Francesca. “Well, young sir, we battled for hours. We lost a dozen men, and nearly the Augustina as well—the creature rending it like a paper toy. Our quartermaster, well, two tentacles grabbed him at both ends and played tug o’ war. No one deserves to go out like that.”

            Fredrico fell silent shaking his head and Francesca listened to her own ragged breathing. Antonio and Fredrico watched her. Finally, she tore her eyes from Fredrico’s face and took another drink.

            “We killed it in the end,” he said. “But it was a near thing. After that, I came here to work in this bar, a goodly distance from the ocean.”

            “That is quite the tale,” said Antonio from behind his cup.

            “Indeed.” Fredrico rubbed his jaw. “The kraken used to just live in Australian waters, but now that I think of it, I’ve heard from old crewmates that the damn things are turning up everywhere nowadays.”

            Antonio raised his tankard to Fredrico. “I think you made the right choice coming here. I know I would be frightened out of my skin to go to sea with those monsters lurking out there, but Signore Dampier here is made of sterner stuff. I’m sure he’s not afraid.”

            Francesca nodded vaguely. She felt sick to her stomach and a little dizzy.

            Fredrico leaned back. “You know, these things are cyclical. The creatures multiply like crazy and then die off in masse. In a couple years the seas will most likely be safe again.” He looked at Francesca. “Seems a shame to risk your hide, when in a couple years you could sail to Australia without a worry in the world.”

            “I guess discretion is the better part of valor, as my father likes to say,” said Antonio.

            Francesca slumped, elbows on the table, staring into her cup. Now the world, which had seemed so full of bright, shining adventure, instead seemed full of dark monsters sliding just under the surface. She wanted to be home, in the garden with Nana or curled on her bed with a book. She ran a hand through her shaggy hair. But how can I go home? How would she explain her hair? I’ll be in so much trouble. She felt tears forming and scrunched her eyes shut. Boys don’t cry. She took a long drink to hide her trembling chin and lips.

            Fredrico looked a little sad as he stood. “I’ll let you lads chat.” He headed back to the bar as a man shuffled up to it.

            Antonio and Francesca were quiet for a while as Francesca fought to control her disappointment. Finally, Antonio said. “I still think you’re very brave.”

            She gave a half laugh, half cry. She didn’t feel very brave. She felt like a failure.

            “I’m serious,” said Antonio. “You were willing to go, despite the pirates and the storms and shipwrecks and all. That shows you have courage. Going despite the krakens would just show that you’re crazy.”

            She gave a weak laugh. “I’m not crazy. I don’t want to get pulled in half and eaten.”

            He shrugged. “I just want you to know, I’d be proud to have a brother like you.”

            She looked up at him and fought back new tears. Then she looked around at the taverna and asked, “So, have you been here before?”

            “A couple times on a dare, and with some of the older boys from… my father’s fencing school.”

            “And that girl you were with, why were you giving her a ride?”

            Antonio flushed and put his face in his mug, drinking deeply. Then he wiped his lips with his cuff and shrugged. “She’s pretty. I like her.”

            “I thought you said girls are a pain.”

            He nodded then smiled. “Maybe I’m changing my mind. Some are alright. I like my sister. She’s smart, and brave, and never backs down from a fight. You remind me a little of her.”

            Francesca pulled some of her hair down over her face. “Yuck. Who wants to be a girl.”

            Antonio laughed. “Not me. It seems difficult. They’re always in trouble for something. But my sister takes her punishment well, because she knows our family still loves her.”

            She looked at him sideways. “Does she know that?”

            “I hope so. My brother teases her a lot, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just his way. And my father over protects her because she reminds him of our mother who died. I hope she understands.”

            Francesca swirled her beer around in her mug. She couldn’t remember ever talking with Antonio this much. It felt nice. “And what about you?”

            “Well, I guess I’ve been busy with my friends. I haven’t spent much time with my sister. That’s my fault. I should make up for that. Maybe I could go for a ride with her.”

            “I bet she would like that.”

            They both fell silent and sipped their drinks. A man off to her right belched loudly.

            “So, what will you do now, Signore Dampier?” asked Antonio.

            Francesca sighed deeply and stood up. The room seemed to sway a little bit around her, and she held on to the table. “I’ll go home, I guess, and take what comes.” She could see her governess’ horrified face in her mind. This would be bad.

            Antonio laughed, “It’s a good thing that Horse knows the way. You drank a lot of ale. And don’t worry too much. I’m sure adventure is just around the corner.”

            “Do you think so?” She hoped he was right. “What about you? What will you do?”

            “I guess I’ll head home too. After I finish my ale.”

            Francesca nodded. That was perfect. Signore Dampier couldn’t very well ride home with Antonio. “Goodbye, Signore DiCesare, it has been nice talking with you.”

            Antonio raised a hand as Francesca tottered toward the door. “Safe travels.”

            I wish, thought Francesa as she untied Achilles and climbed onto his back. “Let’s go home, Horse.”    

            Achilles tossed his head and turned toward home.