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Maisie Brumble, seated in the grass and daydreaming in front of her and Jacob’s house, catches sight of a thin, blue-clad figure out of the corner of her eye. “Is that really Sarah Sharpe?” she says in a shocked whisper. She springs up and runs happily towards the unexpected visitor who’s steadily stomping along the pathway to meet her.
Sarah speeds up her gait. “Miss Maisie! How you’ve grown!”
Maisie keeps running. She flings her arms wide open and laughs, overcome with joy. “Ms. Sharpe!”
Finally they meet, with Maisie throwing her arms around Sarah’s waist and nearly toppling her over in the process. Sarah falters at first, but then, gripping Maisie’s shoulders, she shifts and regains her balance by anchoring herself with her one good foot and leg and steadying herself on her wooden one.
They share a good long hug before Maisie finally pries herself away. She looks up again at the burnished brown face she hasn’t seen in months: more angles than curves, with high-planed wide cheekbones, a strong nose, and a pointed chin. She gleefully studies the thin lips, the piercing brown eyes, and the thick mop of black-brown braids framing that face. “How I’ve missed you, Ms. Sharpe!”
“What’s with this ‘Ms. Sharpe’ nonsense? Call me Sarah to me face, Miss!”
“Sarah, I can’t believe you’ve really come to visit us!” Maisie goes in for another hug, even longer than the last
Truth to tell, Sarah enjoys it more than she would ever admit aloud to anyone. She’d once thought children to be horrible things – but Maisie Brumble was different. This remarkable girl stowed away on the Inevitable, befriended a monster, and changed everyone’s lives by exposing the false history that kings and queens had created and perpetuated.
Sarah repeatedly pats Maisie’s back. “It’s good to see ya, Miss. How are ya gettin’ on together, you and Jacob?”
Maisie releases Sarah from the embrace and grins. “He’s in the house. I’ll call him out!” She sets her hands on either side of her mouth, flattened palms facing each other, and takes a big breath. “Dad! Sarah Sharpe’s come here for a visit! Come outside, Dad!”
Sarah’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “Dad, is it?”
“Aye, Jacob’s me dad now!”
Sarah finally lets loose with a laugh. “Jacob’s tied himself down to the land? I remember when me and Captain Crow came across him. He was stranded on that wee section of broken ship’s boards and being tossed about on the sea. A slip of a boy, he was, and I had my doubts about him. But oh, he was plucky! He grew up to be a fine Seaman, and an even greater Hunter.” Her face drops upon hearing the last word she’s just said aloud – and that she’s said it to this girl whose parents died hunters’ great deaths, leaving her an orphan. “Sorry to bring up the hunting, Miss. I know the War was wrong, and that we don’t hunt monsters no more – but I was only tellin’ ya the truth about Jacob as I know it.”
“I know. It’s all right, Sarah.”
Jacob emerges from the house, wiping his hands with a towel. “Dishes needed done,” he says. “Oh - but I s’pose I could’ve left this in the house, eh?” With a self-effacing chuckle he slaps the towel over his shoulder.
“Domesticity seems to agree with ya, Jacob,” Sarah says. “And here I was just tellin’ Miss Maisie that I never reckoned you for one to stay on land for long.”
“Well,” Jacob says, pulling Maisie into a sideways hug, “right here’s my best reason for that.” He adds a ruffling motion of his hand atop Maisie’s head.
“Stop it, Dad! You’re messin’ up me hair!”
“What are you up to now, Sarah?” Jacob asks. “Now that there’s no more monster hunting.”
“You know me, Jacob. I love the Sea, and it’s all I’ve ever known. So, I joined up with the Royal Navy – and I’ll be gettin’ in with the Discovery Service, too. There’s been talk about findin’ a northwest passage to China and India.”
“Oh,” Maisie says. “Then you’re not gonna be staying with us?”
“I’ve been on shore leave for a few days, and I thought I’d best visit you and Jacob before the crew set sail again tomorrow morning. You see, Miss Maisie, I still owe you somethin.’”
She reaches inside her faded blue jacket and pulls out a long, large knife. The sun catches the blade just right and sets it glimmering. With a solemnity befitting a formal ceremony, Sarah rests it on her flattened palms. She bows deeply, casting her eyes to the ground, and presents the knife to Maisie with outstretched arms. “Accept me gift of this bigger knife what I should’ve given ya from the beginning, Miss Maisie Brumble.” She raises her head to meet Maisie’s enthralled gaze. “It’s still Brumble, innit?” She turns her head and glances at Jacob. “Or is it Holland now?”
Jacob shrugs, his cheeks going rosy. “She’s been going by Brumble.”
Maisie tugs at his shirt sleeve, capturing his gaze. “I like Holland, too, though,” she says quietly.
Jacob’s cheeks jump to a bright red. “That’s the first you’ve mentioned it, Lass,” he says. “We’ll be sure to talk about it later.”
Sarah clears her throat. “Well then, Miss Maisie Brumble Holland, are ya gonna take this knife, or not?” she asks, still bent down in a deep bow. “Me back’s gonna get stuck like this if ya don’t take it right now.”
Maisie giggles and carefully lifts the knife from Sarah’s hands as if it were the Holy Grail. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Sarah.”
Sarah slowly creaks up to a fully upright position, then rubs her hands against the small of her back. “I ain’t gettin’ any younger, for sure. But I reckon I still have plenty of seafaring years left in these bones.”
“Aye,” Jacob says, “and you’ve still got your stubborn will, too.” He turns to Maisie and sets his hand on her shoulder. “Maisie, how about you go inside and bring out that project you finished a few months ago? You know the one?” He shoots a quick sideways glance, indicating Sarah.
“Let’s all go inside,” Maisie says. “It’ll be easier done there.”
“What’ll be easier done?” Sarah asks. “What secret are ya keepin’?”
“No secret,” Maisie says. “I have a gift for you, too, Sarah. And I’ve been saving it for just in case you ever came to visit us. Let’s go!”
Jacob stands aside and extends his arm, indicating the front door of the house. “After you, ladies.” Maisie takes Sarah’s hand, and together they enter the house, followed by Jacob.
Maisie takes Sarah into the living area. “Sit here, please,” she says, and then dashes off into an adjacent room. Sarah seats herself in a humble wooden chair, with Jacob taking a chair opposite.
Maisie returns with a rolled up woolen blanket which she plops directly onto Sarah’s lap. “This blanket belongs to me,” Maisie says. “But what’s inside is for you. Go ahead, open it!” She shifts her weight excitedly from one foot to the other, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She reaches forward to assist, so anxious she is for Sarah to see what’s inside, but then withdraws her hand, not wanting to seem too eager. Sarah should have the honour of discovering the gift entirely on her own. If Maisie can remain patient, she can keep her eyes glued on Sarah and get a good look at her face when the gift is revealed.
“What have we here?” Sarah asks, carefully lifting one fold at a time. When she’s finished unfurling Maisie’s blanket, Sarah opens her mouth to a wide “O,” accompanied by a happy gasp.
“I carved it m’self with the knife you gave me on the Inevitable,” Maisie says, puffing out her chest. “D’ya like it?”
Sarah lifts the intricately carved piece of wood, stained a rich russet brown, and slowly rotates it in her hands. She nods approvingly as she inspects the large, hollowed out section at the top. From there, the wood tapers to a sturdy solid column, carved in a thick spiral pattern, then leads down to a perfectly flat bottom surface. “I’ve seen dozens of peglegs in me day, but never have I seen one the likes of this. This is a work of Art, Miss! I don’t know if I can-”
“Please, Sarah? Please wear it? I was thinking the one you’ve been wearing must be starting to rot.”
“Aye, it is, after so many years of hunting and being in ships near to sinking. We never did sink, but the wood gets wet, all the same. I’ve been known to carve spare legs for m’self over the years – but I don’t have near the talent that you have for it. Of course I’ll wear it, Miss. Thank you!”
“I hope you don’t mind that I carved a design of flowers and butterflies up at the top? Where everyone will be sure to see it?”
“It’s lovely. Why would you think I’d mind it?”
“Well, uh… I don’t know… but I was just hoping it wouldn’t look too… girly for you?”
Sarah laughs, low and raucous. “And just who decides what girly is, anyway? I may not be all frills, rouge, and perfectly coiffed hair, like what most people would think of as 'girly' – but I’s every bit a girl!”
“Then maybe there should be a new definition of the word?”
“I’ve known men who might seem “girly” to some, and girls who might seem “boyish.” But girl, boy, and everything in between, we’re all people. Ain’t no definitions required.”
“Would you mind trying it on?” Maisie asks. “Now? I’d love to see how it looks on you, and I also want to make sure it will fit, and that I got the length right.”
“I’ll be most pleased, Miss.”
Maisie watches, awestruck, as Sarah goes through the motions of removing her well-weathered pegleg and setting it on the floor beside the chair.
“Don’t stare, Lass,” Jacob says gently. “It’s impolite.”
“Ain’t nothin',” Sarah says with a wave of her hand. “I’m accustomed.”
Maisie speaks in a timid voice. “Could I ask you a question, Sarah?”
“Fire away.”
“How did you lose your leg?”
“Maisie,” Jacob cautions in a low rumble, “don’t be rude to our guest.”
“Oh, she ain’t being rude, Jacob,” Sarah says. “She’s curious, is all. And I reckon she’s old enough to know the story.”
Jacob concedes with a nod.
Sarah anchors her palms against her thighs and leans forward. “I know this may be difficult for you to hear, Miss,” she says slowly. “But as it happens, me leg was taken by the sea monster what we called the Red Bluster.”
“No! Not Red?”
“But I never begrudged the Bluster for it, because-”
“Don’t call her that, Sarah! Her name is Red!”
“Because it was the War. And like anyone what chooses the life of a Hunter, I knew that any battle could end up with me dyin’ me great death. So, what’s a leg?” Sarah shrugs. “A small sacrifice to make, I thought.”
Maisie’s brow crinkles. “I – I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” she says in a lilt that’s more question than affirmation.
“It happened thirty years ago, during the same battle what cost Captain Crow his eye.” She sighs, shaking her head. “But he had a different reaction to what befell him. From then on, it wasn't only about the Hunt. He allowed himself to become obsessed with thoughts of vengeance. And then, when he saw both of ya bein’ swallowed up, and sure that he’d lost Jacob forever…. Well, I didn’t think his obsession could get any worse than it already was, but…”
The room goes silent for a minute, with each one waiting for one of the others to speak first. Sarah finally lightens the mood. “Well, I’d best get on with trying out me new leg, right?”
She carefully fits her stump into Maisie’s carved creation. She shifts and adjusts, then slips her trouser leg’s custom buttonholes around the wooden leg’s carved stationary buttons. “A perfect fit!” She follows up with a laugh. “Just like Cinderella and her glass slipper!”
Maisie claps her hands and jumps up and down. “I’m so glad you like it!”
“But now for the true test.” Sarah tosses the blanket to Maisie, then rises from her chair. “The length seems spot on, Miss!” She begins with short, slow steps at first, then takes full strides, moving faster and faster in circles around the living area. “I just might have to take up dancing now!”
Maisie leaps up from her chair at the suggestion and playfully grasps Sarah’s hands in hers. Together they gently swing their arms from side to side, taking small steps to the left, then to the right, then back and forth again.
Sarah’s cackling laugh fills the room as they dance. “And where’s that blasted ship’s Piper when ya really need him?”
Jacob succumbs to loud guffaws. “He was awful, that lad. Just awful!”
The trio’s happiness continues on for several hours. Many sea tales are told, shanties sung, and parlour games played. Maisie entertains Sarah with her stories of how she and Jacob have travelled around and burned all books about the Wars and the Monsters. She giggles most when mentioning that the first stop on their mission was Castle Whiterock.
A hearty beef stew dinner later, prepared by Jacob, and then Sarah regretfully announces that she’d best be on her way. She adds that she doesn’t know when she might return, or if she’ll ever be in the area again in the future.
“But you’ll need more peglegs,” Maisie says, “and I’m gonna make more for you! I’ll start on another one tonight, and I’ll carve boats and seagulls on it. And then I’ll make one with Polar bears and Arctic foxes carved in, to celebrate your finding the northwest passage! Would you like one with fish and shells? I could do that, too! So you have to return, Sarah! You have to!” She rushes her and clamps her arms around the woman’s waist with a vice grip, as if with that one hug alone she could keep Sarah in the house forever.
“All right,” Sarah says. “I reckon I could use a full collection of your artistic peglegs, at that. One for each day of week, maybe?”
Maisie releases Sarah from the hug and offers a formal salute. “I’ll do it!”
Sarah’s lips part into a warm smile. “There’s no young Miss more loyal than Maisie Brumble Holland,” she says. “Goodbye, now. I promise I’ll send letters.”
She receives so many more impulsive hugs from Maisie that she loses count, and after one hug from Jacob, Sarah’s on her way. She stomps away smartly, her new leg serving her well, and with her old one slung over her back and wrapped in another gift.
Maisie’s blanket.
After all, Maisie insisted when she happily gave it to her, Sarah might need an extra blanket when she goes on that cold voyage to find the northwest passage.