I stand on the horizontal pole of the tallest mast, a rope held in my right hand, waiting for the signal. I have rigged the sail so that when I jump off the mast and pull the rope, the sail will be released. I stare out toward the horizon in the direction we shall be sailing.
For as long as I could remember, sailing has always been a part of my life. My own father was a wealthy merchant and always took my mum, brothers and me on his trips. Which is how I developed my 'scandalous' dressing habits. Ship life was no place to be ladylike and proper. It took years for my father to find me a husband because of it.
Though I'd never wanted to marry. That would mean having to stay home and tending the kids. I'd told my father this but he insisted that I needed a husband. Someone who could care for me after he was gone.
He is gone but he did manage to find me a perfect husband who didn't mind my dressing habits. In fact that part of me intriged him more. Thus Moriarty and I were wed.
I look down toward the deck where Morgan stands, looking at me. He meets my eyes and gives me a thumbs up.
And I jump.