I know these aren’t sensible dreams, yet I still have them. As Antonio says in The Merchant of Venice, “I hold the world but as the world, a stage where every man must play a part. And mine is a sad one.”
Do you think it is true, that every man must play a part? I should like a new one, if that is so. But as Mrs. Thomas said, no one ever asks us.
I remain your most humble and grateful servant,
Deborah Samson
My favorite time of day was dawn, and more often than not, when time and the weather allowed, I would climb up Mayflower Hill—I’d named it for my ancestors—and watch the sun come. But days started early on a farm, and I’d already gathered eggs, pulled the weeds from the garden, hung out a load of wash, and helped Mrs. Thomas put out breakfast on the table before I could even think about slipping away.
I was out of sorts, and so was she. The entire household was on tenterhooks, and she shooed me off after breakfast, telling me not to come back until supper so she could “have a moment’s peace.”
I’d been halfway up my hill, moving at a good clip, when I heard Jeremiah calling for me to wait for him.
“Rob! Wait for me. I’ll come with you,” Jerry hollered. I wanted to be alone, and Jerry liked to chatter, but I found a seat and settled in, waiting for him to catch up.
He plopped down beside me, though we still had half a hill to climb. I let him rest, suddenly in no hurry to reach my destination. I hadn’t slept well. I’d dreamed of Dorothy May Bradford being pulled into the deep, her skirts wrapped around my legs, her hopelessness filling my chest.
“If this was all the world you ever got to see . . . just the view from this hill, would that be enough?” I asked Jerry.
“I suppose. It’s a pretty good view.”
It was. It was a spectacular view, and the pressure in my lungs eased. Perhaps it would be all right if I never saw another.
“It’s beautiful. Looking at it, I can imagine what falling in love feels like.” The thought made my throat ache. I didn’t think I would ever feel that way about Nathaniel. I could admit that to myself now, with a little perspective.
Jeremiah scowled at me. “I don’t like it when you say stuff like that. You don’t sound like Rob.”
“What do I sound like?”
“You sound like a girl.”
“Well, I am one. And there is nothing else that makes me feel like this. Just look at it, Jerry.”
“I’m lookin’.”
“In some of my dreams I’m drowning,” I told him. “But in some of my dreams I can fly. I rise up over the earth and look down on fields and forest, on rivers that crisscross the land and waters that slap against the shore.”
“Do you have wings?”
“No. I just . . . rise up. The air doesn’t whoosh around me. It doesn’t take any effort at all. And I’m not afraid of falling. I see the farms and the trees and the sky. I sometimes fly all the way to Boston, following the road below me, though I’m moving much faster than a horse or even a bird. Then I see the ships in the harbor—sails of every height and size, and the air smells of brine and fish. I fly higher so I will not be seen. There is nothing to hide behind, and my skirts billow about me. I worry that someone will look up and see me floating there.”
“And see straight up your skirts.”
“Yes . . . and they will call me a witch and shoot me down with cannon fire. So I fly higher and faster, heading inland, though I’ve lost my sense of direction. I don’t recognize the land or hills below me. I fly one way and then the next, trying to find my way back here, to this hill where I started from, but I can’t.”
“Are you scared?”
“I wake up cold and terrified every time. And yet . . . I still want to fly.”
“I want to sail. Someday I’m going to go on a ship. I’ll catch whales. You can come with me if you want to. You can be my cook.”
“I don’t want to be your cook, Jeremiah.”
“Well, you can’t be the captain.”
I thought about that. “I could if I put my mind to it.”
“The sailors would throw you overboard. Nobody likes taking orders from a girl unless she’s his mother. That’s why Nat gets so mad at you. You’re always telling everyone what to do.”
“I don’t want to be in charge of anyone but myself.” That’s what I wanted most in the world, to be responsible for and to no one but myself. “But if you captain a ship someday, Jer, I wouldn’t mind going for a sail.”