Samuel walked into the house slowly, his body tired from the walk to the port. The soft glow from the fireplace lit up the room, and there was Margarette, as always, sitting in her creaky chair, staring at the crackling fire with a thoughtful look. She lifted her eyes when he walked in, without surprise, like she already knew he'd be back late that night.
"Oh, Samuel, back already, huh?" she said in her raspy voice, still not taking her eyes off the fire. "Didn't even warn me you'd be out late, boy. Think I'm some kind of psychic now?" She let out a little chuckle, like she'd said something funny, but wasn't really expecting a reply.
Samuel smiled, tired, taking off his shoes as he entered. He walked over to her and leaned by the fire, stretching his hands out to warm up.
"Sorry, Grandma. It's just… you know how it is, right? The sea's always calling me." He shrugged, like he was trying to explain himself, even though it was clear the real reason wasn't the sea, but something deeper.
Margarette raised an eyebrow and turned her head toward him, a sly smile on her face.
"Yeah, I know how it is, boy. The sea calls you, but what about the rest? You gonna just sit around waiting for the sea to give you a life, or are you gonna do something to make it happen? You look like someone who's been slapped around by life but hasn't done a thing to change it." She chuckled, clearly enjoying the blunt honesty of the moment.
Samuel stayed silent for a second. He didn't know how to respond. His grandmother's direct, no-nonsense voice always caught him off guard.
"Yeah, Grandma, I just… I don't know what to do, you know? I don't like the idea of being just another fisherman in this small town. I want more. I want something different."
Margarette looked at him seriously but still with love in her eyes. "What you want, Samuel, isn't the sea. It's what the sea can't give you. But what are you gonna do with that? You gonna just run off into the world, not knowing what to expect?"
Samuel looked at the fire, thinking. "Maybe. I… I just know I want to try."
"Well, then try," Margarette said firmly. "But hey, don't forget to come back every now and then, alright? The world might be big, but there's nothing better than coming home when it's all said and done."
Samuel smiled, feeling a weight lift off his chest. He wasn't alone. She understood.
"I will, Grandma. I'll try."
"That's what I like to hear!" she exclaimed, then laughed. "Now, go wash your hands and come eat. If the world's waiting for you, the bowl of soup will be waiting too."
After that, Margarette sat back, watching her grandson eat the fish soup with a face that wasn't exactly thrilled.
Right after the meal, Samuel decided it was time to head out and get some sleep, so he made his way to where he slept.
As he got to the hallway of his old house, he started to hear...
His mom stepped out of her room.
Samuel stood there in the hallway, hearing the door slam shut. He looked toward the door and saw his mom, Eliza, walking out. Her face was all scrunched up, and her eyes were filled with anger. She was clearly pissed off.
"I can't believe you did this, Samuel!" she said, not even looking at him, walking fast through the house. "Every time, it's the same thing! Isn't it enough? You always want more!"
She paused for a second, like she was trying to calm down but couldn't. "I gave you everything I could. And now you're talking about going off to some place you don't even know will work out!"
Samuel just stood there, not knowing what to say. He wanted to explain, but it didn't seem like the right moment. His mom was furious, and he knew he couldn't change her mind now.
She shot him a look for a second, still pissed, before muttering, "You think life is just about wanting and getting? Go ahead, try it, but don't come crying later. Life's tough, Samuel."
She gave him one last disapproving look before walking out, slamming the door again. And then, silence. Samuel just stood there, feeling the weight of her words.
Samuel knew that was just the beginning and decided to crash in his room. He wasn't in the mood to stick around and listen to another argument. So, he went upstairs, flopped on his bed, trying to ignore the mess in his head. He knew everything would be the same the next day, but for now, he just wanted a little peace. He closed his eyes and, despite the noise in the house, tried to fall asleep.
May 26, 1800
After waking up
Samuel was starting to get himself ready to leave the city. He knew he couldn't stay there anymore, stuck in a routine that wasn't his. Over the past few days, he had gathered what he could: a bit of money, some clothes, and the courage he'd been missing. The idea of leaving Lowestoft made him nervous, but at the same time, he felt like he had to do it to try something different.
He looked at the little he had prepared and took a deep breath. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he didn't want to spend his whole life wondering what could've been. It was time to take control of his own story, even if that meant facing an uncertain future.
Samuel got up from the bed, walked over to the window, and looked out at the sea, which had always been the edge of his town. He imagined himself far away, in a place where he could start over, away from the pressure of his family and the simple life of fishing that awaited him. It was time to follow his own path with a bitter taste and waiting for the next day to decide the next step.
Samuel was getting ready for what would be his departure from Lowestoft. Yet, he was weighed down by a tension in his heart—his family, the girl he liked, his town.
He looked around his modest room, which reflected the simple life he led. The walls, made of aged wooden planks, creaked softly with every gust of wind that passed. Beside his bed stood a wooden chest, worn with use, holding the little Samuel owned: some clothes, a pair of patched-up boots, and a notebook where he jotted down his ideas and dreams ever since he had learned to read and write.
Approaching the chest, Samuel took out his notebook and sat on the edge of his bed to reflect on the events of the previous day. He gazed at its pages, filled with scattered ideas—words that might never leave the paper.
"It's now, isn't it? I'm finally leaving this place..." he murmured, his smile uncertain. "But... am I really ready? Can I just leave everything behind? The family, the town... her...Ma!!!ry!!!"
Just thinking about her made his resolve waver. His desire to leave seemed to shrink, so he quickly tried to push those thoughts away.
Shaking his head, he chuckled quietly, as if laughing at himself. "Ah, Samuel, you think too much. Always thinking. That's not what's going to take you far, is it?"
If someone had entered his small room at that moment, they might have thought Samuel was losing his mind, talking to himself with such intensity.
For a moment, his eyes glimmered, as if he had uncovered a spark of courage hidden deep within. "I know what I want. It's not wrong to want more, is it? Everyone lives the same life—if you're the son of a fisherman, society expects you to become a fisherman too. But me... I want more. And if no one understands... well, one day they will. They'll see."
Closing the notebook firmly, Samuel turned his gaze toward the chest beside his bed. For a brief moment, his smile returned, this time more determined. "It's now or never."