Chpt 1 - Clear Division

                                    

                                          
1767
                          
    The thing with Ringmore, is that it was really small. A very small port town in the west of England. Once you had been there a few times, say maybe 2, 4 at the most, you would have met everyone and their grandmother's sister. You could walk through the place with your eyes shut. I know I could, but then again, I've been there more times than I could count on both hands. Although this was also what made it a good port town. You see, Ringmore was situated about a 2 hours' horse-ride east from the large port city of, aptly named, Portsmouth. And while Portsmouth was therefore a good size for merchant ships and traders, the size also meant that theft was very common on the docks. Whether it be from thieves on land or thieves on boats, you could be guaranteed to lose something, from a bag of rice to several crates of expensive jewelry. Enter Ringmore - the port town so small that barely anyone knew of its existence. Which was good for the few that did, because it meant that theft was almost unheard of.
                          


                          
Pirates, however? Well, that was a different story.
                          
The coast of England was pillaged by English pirates as much as foreign ones, but they did offer some line of defense, I suppose. Especially against the French. French pirates seemed to enjoy robbing English towns. Although, while I had heard that pirates often visited Ringmore, I hadn't actually ever seen any. Apparently it was because they usually docked in winter, when there were even fewer people about, so there was no cause of concern for when families such as mine came to stay for the summer.
                          
Until now.
                          
"Vagabonds, thieves, murderers - criminals, the bloody lot of them!"
                          
I raised my head from the book I had been staring at (I would say I was reading it, but then I would be lying) to see my father standing in front of the massive windows that ran along the wall opposite me in the large upstairs drawing room - the ones that looked out onto the port and the sea. He was pulling back the netting that hung over them in order to see out over the town. Judging by the look on his face, it was him who had spoken. Mr Philip Hardinge was standing next to him, pipe in his mouth, looking almost unfazed. I knew him better though. My thoughts were confirmed when he removed his pipe from his mouth and spoke in a very flat voice over the now silent room.
                          
"You would think in this day and age that somebody would be able to deal with the vermin, but no, Parliament cannot even do that simple task."
                          
"I wholeheartedly agree," growled my father, who continued to glare angrily out of the window, as if the simple action would make the pirates disappear, "It's the 18th Century, for God's sake! Just blow them up!"
                          
"Benedict, darling, why don't you come away from the window and sit back down," suggested my mother, who was sitting on the love-seat to the right, sewing.
                          
He did what he usually did: dutifully ignore her suggestion.
                          
"I just don't understand, Clara. We have all these monkeys in boats, sailing around as if they own the place, thieving off of good citizens and murdering others! Not to mention their dirty shenanigans with the ladies. Absolutely despicable, the lot of them!"
                          
"The sooner they are dealt with, the better," finished Mr Hardinge, pipe still placed in the corner of his mouth.
                          
I was going to say something when Josephine caught my eye. She was sitting on the other side of the room, just off to my left, with her younger sister Lauren. Both of them were grinning, and almost seemed to be stifling a laugh. I grinned back. My father wasn't the best when it came to getting his points across about lower classes without sounding like a total hypocrite. The three of us often got a few good laughs out of it. Josephine raised her eyebrows and glanced at our fathers, the meaning all too clear - are they serious? I gave a slight nod of my head before rolling my eyes. I made sure it was over-exaggerated. Josephine's shoulders shook in a silent laugh and Lauren snorted. Which caught her mother's attention. Vanessa Hardinge (sitting across from my mother in the other love-seat) halted in her sewing to frown at her. Lauren either didn't notice or didn't care. Knowing her it was probably the latter.