Elicia Johnson's Blog

July 17, 2025

Cover Reveal

Friends, visitors, well-wishers, and distant relations,

I have called you here for a purpose, indeed for three purposes.

First of all, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here. An author’s journey is a strange one, with stops and starts, long boring phases between occasions of great celebration, dotted with existential crises, of course. This is essentially a marketing nightmare, but you, my friends, are the remedy—a balm to my writer’s heart.

Yes, yes you are.

Second, and closely related, it is my solemn duty to get you hyped up for a book that is still many months from its release. So, here’s your first peek and a few alluring sentences. Take your pick and cling to the one you relate to. I think I’ll turn them all into reels for social media in time.

If you’re not into a lot of Christian fiction but love a story with rich themes, this book is for you.
If you feel like contemporary fiction is often shallow or lacking in literary value, you should definitely read Endling.
If you or someone you know has deconstructed, I wrote this book for you (and them).
If you’ve ever wished you could save someone from their addiction or self-destructive ways, you’ll connect with characters in Endling.
If you’ve ever felt like you needed to hold it all together, this book is definitely for you.
If you just love original world-building and heart-tugging adventures, you’ll love Endling.
If you grew up listening to emo, possibly getting your haircuts with a razor, I wrote this book for you.
And if the love language of your teens was a mixtape, I made a playlist for you to listen to while you read it. :D

Okay, you’ve definitely earned a bigger peek:

In my last newsletter, I mentioned that Stacy at Descendant Publishing had already chosen a design from Andy Payne Designs for Endling before I’d even signed a contract. And I was scared 💩less. I’m artsy and picky and prone to telling people how I really feel. So, I put on my best, “I’m fine. This is fine,” smile and sat on the edge of my seat until she sent me the cover.

And it was gorgeous. It felt perfect for this book; she was right. Of course, it was a mock-up up so some changes would be made, the buildings needed to change from ramshackle towers to a steampunk/Victorian look. And then I got to thinking, what if we incorporated the original folklore scattered throughout the book and all the natural elements and…well, the designer delivered big time. He took my incoherent doodles and checked every single thing off my list.

And then there was a struggle over the hat. I liked one, Stacy hated it. Stacy liked another, I hated it. There was a brief moment when my main character looked like a matador. It was a wardrobe crisis of epic proportions.

And then, this masterpiece came through the email:

🥺😍

Isn’t it beautiful?

And that’s my name. What’s my name doing on that cover that looks like an incredible story lies within?

Well, hang in there with me, friends.
This is one of the many dots worth celebrating on the timeline.
When the time comes, I hope you’ll love it.

Endling has
unintrusive science fantasy,
unique world-building,
rich themes,
slightly unreliable narrator,
a literary feel,
original folklore inspired by real-world mythology,
mysterious antagonists (or are they?),
supernatural elements & cryptids lightly sprinkled throughout,
and a fun ‘chaotic, enchanted wilderness versus a perfectly safe and well-ordered city, conflict.

You in?

Tell me what you think of the cover in the comments below!

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Published on July 17, 2025 06:03

July 7, 2025

June Newsletter

Inside:

June greeting

Endling News!

Arty things

Reading Recs, including a new release

June

The last newsletter I wrote was peak newsletter performance, if I do say so myself. I was in a fun mood and I think my personality (weird, sarcastic, simultaneously a little irreverent but a deep thinker/writer) shone through. I was a little scared when I pushed send. But after a bi I thought, this is the way.

If I just keep being authentically myself, I’ll find my people, my readers. The problem is I’ve been up all night delivering/caring for puppies and their mama for a couple nights and June was so incredibly full that I just don’t have it in me. And I need to get this out because well…exciting things are happening!

I know. Everyone is always busy. But last month was definitely in the top ten busiest months I’ve ever had. Despite the title of this newsletter, I know it’s July now.

With all the busyness of hauling kids to and from camp, hosting friends, and selling/feeding our bumper crop of lambs this year, I didn’t get around to writing a newsletter in June. However, it turns out that’s pretty convenient. I tell readers that I try to send out only one newsletter email a month, but I know I’m going to have mega exciting things to share with you soon! So this will be June’s email and in the actual July one…

Publishing Journey

I’LL REVEAL MY COVER!!!

I’ve seen the first draft and honestly, it hardly needed revision. It’s gorgeous.

If you haven’t heard the story,

I hadn’t even signed my contract before the (amazing) design/marketing gal at Descendent Publishing blurted out, “I ALREADY FOUND YOUR COVER!”

I. Was. Terrified.

I’m picky. I had always imagined having a physical painting as the main art—some moody painting of Sanctius City with the ominous Wilderness encroaching. Well, the cover Stacy found is by a digital artist, so it’s nothing like I imagined. But somehow, it’s also everything I could have asked for. Even the original color scheme was up my alley. With a few changes to the mock-up, it’s just one more dream come true.

In my last email, I raved about how thankful I am for every one of you, and here’s where I get to show my appreciation:

You’re going to get the VERY FIRST LOOK at the cover!

No one else will get to see it until the Realm Makers writing conference, and only after that will we reveal it publicly on social media!

Art Updates

Summer is my favorite time for art. I love to paint en plein air on our hikes and river days. It’s taking some time to get back in the groove, though, so I’m not overly excited about these. I know as soon as we do a new hike or take a family trip to the lake, beautiful things will happen :)

On a super fun note, I have new stickers in stock! My map & bird sticker sets were wildly successful during the bird migration at Freezout Lake. So, I painted more animals for stickers. I’m considering painting some simple scenes to go along with them. But the stickers are also waterproof and fade-resistant, so they can go on cases, cups, cars & etc. The sheets are 4x6, and the individuals vary around three inches.

If you’re local, all of these are available at Copper Creek in Fairfield or directly from me. I’ve loaded the sheets in my store, here, and the individual stickers will follow shortly. And always, you can reply to this email, and I can help you find what you’re looking for or take custom commissions!

Recent ReadsThese posts sometimes contain affiliate links. If you tap and shop, I may receive a small commission at no extra cost to you:)Currently Reading:

Besides pouring over my own manuscript and annotating the copy of Emma that my daughter got me for mother’s day, I’m reading The Body Keeps the Score By Dr. Bessel van der Kolk. I’ve been trying to pull my body out of an adrenal tantrum for about six years now, and this is basically required reading for trauma related stress issues. It’s good, but heavy and has triggered trauma responses in me along the way. So use caution or just find a professional who can work with you through the same things. (Remember, counseling isn’t punishment and it doesn’t mean you’re broken:)

I’ve slowed down with reading a little, which is good! It means I’m making time to move, be outside, go on adventures and work on my own books. I’m sure I’ll pick up a new fiction read soon!

Recently Finished Book Reviews/Ratings:

The Memory of Old Jack by Wendell Berry; I don’t think I’ve ever read anything, fiction or nonfiction, from Mr. Berry that didn’t deserve five stars. I think reading his work constantly, like one of those “every day with CS Lewis” devotionals would make us all better humans.

Ann Cleeves’ Shetland Mysteries Last month, I told you’d I’d been screaming through Ann Cleeves’ series. This month, I’ve added Blue Lightning, Dead Water (which introduces the adorably granola CIO Willow Reeves), Thin Air, and Cold Earth. The first few primarily impressed me with the mystery and plot structure. With these ones, I was struck by the uptick in character development. The characters weren’t glaringly flat early on, but they were much more dynamic and intricate, especially after Dead Water.

The Frugal Wizard’s Guide for Surviving Medieval England by Brandon Sanderson —Three stars, because it was good but not “the best book I’ve ever read” good.
The best part of this book is the premise. I think it was sort of child’s play for Sanderson, as if he wrote it just for fun, the way some people play basketball on Sunday afternoons. The story was enjoyable and had some quotable lines. Worth checking out from the library.

Somehow, I’ve already reached my reading goal of fifty books this year. If you want to keep up with all my Goodreads reviews (or just ratings when I’m super busy), you can do that here.

That’s all for today. I don’t have an exact date for the cover reveal, but keep your eyes on your inbox!

Happy adventuring (literary & otherwise)

Elicia Johnson

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Published on July 07, 2025 13:33

May 16, 2025

Wish I May

Inside:

May greeting

Publishing Journey

Arty things

Reading Recs, including a new release

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight.

Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.

I’m not superstitious, nor am I a little stitious. I’m something else.

a man in a suit and tie is sitting in front of a window with blinds and talking .

I prefer to think of myself like Emily of New Moon, with a little of the second sight. (On my worst days, I see myself more like the witchy old lady in George MacDonald’s The Fisherman’s Lady, but hopefully I don’t get so crazy that Nic can’t live with me anymore! 😆) I just see the world as more connected and magical✨ than we can even grasp. I guess I’m something of a mystic.

When I was a child, I would wish on every first star, 💫shooting star, eyelash, and any other wish currency I came across. I knew exactly who the Wishgranter was, and I felt no religious guilt in participating in such things. Still don’t.

Amid some challenging and exhausting days when I'm tempted to see only the hard things and want to run away, if I open my eyes even a little, I can’t help but notice a lot of wishes granted, dreams coming true, prayers answered, some would say. And even as we struggle on our farm with unusual circumstances (I have prided myself on my regenerative ag methods and healthy flock, and well, pride comes before the fall. Sheep are still sheep, born trying to die, despite my best efforts to keep them alive.) there are glimmers of light and blessing and beauty.

I remembered when we were buying our first cow and in the uphill battle to find land, I told my mother, “Some people would wish for an easier life. I’m asking for something that’s work, if that’s what will make my family healthier, and I can’t catch a break.” It only took a little while before a quality cow was found and I watched raw milk bring my daughter back to life. Land was found; a house was built.

And now here I sit, in that beautiful house my husband built, writing a newsletter to my readers about my soon-to-be published work of fiction. That’s a lot of blessings in one sentence. I can be such an ungrateful *#^! sometimes. (Starts naming all the things I’m thankful for.) You know what? You’re one of those wishes-come-true, too. I probably wished on a star, eyelash, lucky penny, or four-leaf clover for every single one of you. (And there are hundreds of you!) I am incredibly thankful for you, dear reader.

Because, though I couldn’t care less if you remember my name or my face, I wish and pray and dream (daily) that my words will do something inside of you—softly touch the places recoiled in pain, open a dark dusty corner and let light shine in, or simply draw the veil back on the beauty and wonder around us.

Publishing Journey

Earlier this year, I signed a contract with Descendant Publishing. My book, The Endling, is slated to release in February 2026. I’m stoked. But it also feels like forever to this impatient dreamer. I don’t mind working hard, but waiting…

Lisa Parks And Recreation Money Please GIF | GIFDB.com

Now, pweeeease!

That’s a long time to be hyping up a book! How the 🔥 am I supposed to keep the buzz going for the better part of a year? You’re subscribed to experience my best guess. And if you happened upon this post and you’re not subscribed, you should. It makes authors feel validated, like we’re the real deal, when we have an e-mail list. We hear horror stories about needing 50,000 followers minimum to get published. So here’s a handy button; go ahead, make my day. Grant a wish. My eyelashes thank you for making their loss worthwhile.

Subscribe now

For starters, (back to book hype) I’m going to share some quotes, character sneak-peeks etc and other Endling hype. Since I know quite a few of you are also writers, I’ll also some peeks into the actual journey to publishing.

How is publishing you ask? Painful. Dark and difficult times.

The current version of the Endling is something like a twelfth draft. Doesn’t matter. With each editing pass, it gets harder to see what isn’t working. I have to rely on fresh eyes. Except it’s not their book baby, so I also have to decide when to shut up and when to step between my darling and their editing axes.

It also gets harder to cut things. The individual words get precious. No one likes to destroy their precious words.

Then, there’s the fact that my publishers have lives, other authors, and their own projects. (What?!) So with every editing pass, I wonder if I’m headed in the right direction. When it’s my turn for meetings and messages and project folders and…then I’ll know. Until then, pain.

So about this book. If you’re newish, The Endling is my New Adult science-fantasy(?) about a control freak who spirals when beautiful chaos invades his world. Okay, I’ve never actually used that as my elevator pitch, but it’s also not wrong. (BTW, Pitches and blurbs are even worse than editing.)

Here’s another, more serious go:

Nico is the perfect Citizen. He’s experienced the dangers of the Wilderness first-hand; he knows Sanctius City is the safest place on earth. Sanctius’ solar-steam power and the council’s edicts are the keys to survival. But people obviously DON’T LISTEN to the edicts because the Wilderness enchants more people to their demise daily and the population plummets.

When the Wilderness’ keeper, the Wilderman, comes after Nico and his two remaining friends, Nico decides to fight back. Even with a mysterious ally and a fancy new weapon, Nico’s fight for freedom doesn’t go as planned. When Nico’s steam-run refuge comes crashing down around him, how will he escape the bewitching Wilderness? Where will he turn when he’s the last man on earth and the hunter of souls wants to finish the job?

I’ll probably look back at that next month and puke in my mouth a little. But it’s what I’ve got today. The Endling is a little sci-fi, a little supernatural/fantasy, even for people who don’t love sci-fi and fantasy. It has light, unobtrusive steampunk (IMO, I do indulge in the occasional tech description—you know, for world-building—and one custom mod) and an alternate history timeline you may not even notice. There’s allegory, sarcasm (but not obnoxious banter, don’t you worry), and nature vs machine. It’s like City of Ember grew up and married Equilibrium, that movie with Christian Bale (← Did you know he was born in Wales? I didn’t until like yesterday.) and then they adopted Andrew Lang’s fairy tale collections as their child.

Yes, there are legends, original legends, but they may feel familiar. As is, they’re sprinkled throughout and help Nico open his dang eyes to the evil around him. Not sure the publisher is going to let me keep them like that, but by golly, I’ll do my best for them. If you’re into supernatural podcasts like Blurry Creatures, The Confessionals or The Naked Bible Podcast, you’ll click with my book like pickles on grilled cheese. (It’s seriously the best combo if it’s your jam.) I hope the Endling is your jam.

I think I promised a quote. Imma dig…How about this? It might not make it into the final manuscript so it could be our fun little secret.

When the tales of the wild men were shared around the fire, I considered the possibility that they existed, but I never imagined they would actually make cheese. Was cheese evil, too? I hoped not, but everything was suspect.

This quote is rooted in a real cryptid legend about bigfoot-creature bestowing the knowledge of cheesemaking on the local people. Myths and legends are gold mines, my friend! It always reminds me of this treasure my friend Danielle found on Pinterest after reading the Endling.

Here’s another quote just for fun:

Along the downtown streets, salty air had corroded much of the exposed metal. Red, rusted iron and green, copper-lined roofs and windows. And yet, the Temple Clock pounded forward every second—the eternal steadiness of clockwork.

Art Updates

I’m sure I have art-related things to tell you. I just don’t remember them at the moment. After the big art pop-up on my website and in-person sales at a local festival, things feel a little slow. But I think I needed a little rest before art stopped being refreshing. (I am, after all, a writer who draws to stay sane:)

I’m still plugging away at a classics coloring book. I’m working on a fun scene from Emma, using the houses from the miniseries adaptation. If you have suggestions for classics to include in the coloring book, reply and let me know!

Besides working on more stickers (yay!), I’ve had a commission from a fellow author for a map. I can’t reveal the whole thing here, but here’s a sneak peek:

The next sticker sets I’ll be ordering are chickens and farm-related. Closer to fall and school starting again, I have some wildlife sticker sheets planned. I may paint scenese for the stickers again like the Freezout map; that seemed to do really well.

I’m looking forward to more hiking, swimming, and paddling to inspire more watercolor landscapes!

Recent ReadsThese posts sometimes contain affiliate links. If you tap and shop, I may receive a small commission at no extra cost to you:)

Currently Reading:

City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau—one of a few books that make a good comp title for the Endling. I’ve purposely avoided them during the writing process so that I wouldn’t unconsciously steal something. Alli Earnest’s Gate Series is another one I can’t wait to jump back into once the Endling is polished up.

Voyage to Alpha Centauri by Michael O’Brien I found this book while deep down a conspiracy research rabbit hole. I think I’ll really enjoy it. However, I didn’t realize how thick it was when I put it on hold at the nearest library. It’s going to be a struggle to read several inches of philosophical sci-fi before it needs returned while the weather has just turned beautiful and I know I have another Ann Cleeves novel coming on the bookmobile.

Recently Finished:

Ann Cleeves’ Shetland Mysteries After devouring the Shetland TV series and marvelling at the screenwriting (by David Kane), I absolutely had to read the books by Ann Cleeves. So far, I’ve read Raven Black, White Nights, and Red Bones. They’re all amazingly woven mysteries and I have tons of respect for Cleeves’ plotting abilities. I try to read books like these from a writer’s perspective, but sometimes these Shetland mysteries pull me in and I lose myself. So, though I’m never surprised by book endings, I have to admit the culprit in Red Bones completely shocked me.

The last time I wrote, I was just starting The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. That was back in February. I gave it five stars, only the second five-star rating for a fiction book in 2025.

Since then, I’ve logged fifteen books in my Goodreads, besides the Shetland mysteries, including Ted Dekker’s dragon series, a bunch of Yeats and Song of the Sea. I’ll only highlight one here, but you can follow all my Goodreads reviews (or just ratings when I’m super busy) here.

The most important to note is Monster Therapy by one of my writing friends, Paul Regnier. He’s the real deal, guys. The man writes good books, and he does it with a speed I can’t comprehend. His latest masterpiece is called Monster Therapist. Here’s the blurb & cover to convince you to buy.

When you offer therapy to monsters, it’s wise to keep a sword handy.

Master swordsman Logan Snow thought trading epic quests for a cozy counseling center would be his happily-ever-after. After all, when you delve into a giant’s dark past or advise an ogre with anger issues, what could go wrong?

When a letter arrives bearing the grim news that Logan’s old mentor has been captured by a powerful warlock and imprisoned in his citadel, he must dust off his sword and attempt a desperate rescue. He rallies a group of unlikely heroes including Tressa, an alluring and deadly magician, and Xander, a lightning-fast cheetahman.

The warlock unleashes vicious creatures to stop them, and they discover that his citadel is a heavily guarded fortress of death. As the dangers grow, tensions rise among the team, and Logan finds his therapy skills are just as needed as his sword.

Can Logan rescue his mentor and escape the warlock’s citadel, all while bringing much-needed therapy to this fantasy world? Buy Monster Therapist and find out today!

Always epic adventures and always a dash of humor with Paul.

Well, I’ve talked your ear off (eyes out?) long enough. Let’s meet back here, say…about a month from now? It’s a date.

Happy adventuring,

Elicia Johnson

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Published on May 16, 2025 09:38

April 11, 2025

Hardda Farm April '25

If you’re a reader who opted-in to my author newsletter or serial fiction, you can choose not to receive farm updates in your substack settings:) Thanks for reading, friends.

Would you believe me if I said spring is my least favorite season? It’s not that I don’t love all the new life but as long as I live in Montana, I’ll always be gasping for Vitamin D while the farm is demanding more work than any other season! At least in winter, the farm is sleepy, and tossing hay out is most of the work.

Thanks for reading To Make the Unseen Seen! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

But alas, spring is happenin’! All of our Finnsheep have lambed. (More on that below.) We have two Targhee ewes registered as Valais foundation ewes, bred to a Swiss Valais ram yet to lamb. If you don’t know what those are, they’re known as the cutest sheep in the world. You can see the sire they’re bred to below (Cactus Hill’s Farm’s Tilney, ). Ain’t he haaaandsome?!

Lambs, Lambs, and more lambs!!

Praise God, we had 18 lambs from 8 ewes and didn’t lose one! We had quads, triplets, and tons and tons of twins. So needless to say, if you’re looking to start or grow the easiest flock of sheep in the world, I have what you need! We have over a dozen lambs that have future flock potential, some destined for the freezer, and a few adults that we’re ready to part with.

I’m currently taking deposits on everything on our sale list, which you can see here. If there’s something particular you’re looking for, please let me know! A portion of our Finns have good dairy genetics. We also have Finn X East Friesian crosses (both 50/50 and 3/4 Finn) that are great milking animals. I have one 50/50 in training that I loathe to part with because she’s doing so well!

To read more about my breeding goals with my flock, you can visit my main website here.

Chicks and Hatching Eggs

Though we don’t want to count them before they hatch, we currently have 42 hatching eggs in incubators and more available if you’d like to hatch your own. Last year we kept Adriel’s little flock of rainbow egg layers separate from my Speckled Sussex flock. This year, I didn’t have the heart to pull hers into a small coop while it was still cold which means any of our hens could be covered by either the Whiting True Blue or the Speckled Sussex Rooster. The WTB is definitely the dominant guy around and covering the most hens.

If those sound like chickens you’d like to have, hatching eggs are $20/dozen (smaller amounts available upon request). Chicks will be $6 each, due to hatch on Easter.

Eggs and Miiiilk!

Our sheep are producing like champs! Sheep milk is naturally sweet, very nutrient/mineral-rich (supposedly, never had it tested myself.🥰), and doesn’t have an off-taste like goat milk sometimes does. Often, people who struggle with cow’s milk can handle sheep’s milk just fine. About five years ago, a quart of sheep’s milk was 5.99 and up at 2j’s. I’m thinking $5 for a pint and half jar. (easier to skim the cream—yes! Sheep milk separates!) If you’re needing a larger amount, I could do a half-gallon jar for $12.

We also have extra eggs, especially duck eggs. We originally bought ducks because I was struggling with chicken eggs. All my food allergies are healed now, though. So, we’re happy to spread our abundance. Duck eggs—$7/dozen. Chicken eggs—$5/dozen.

Welcoming Joy

In the Celtic calendar, the years and months are divided into their own days and nights, winter being the night and summer being the day of the year. April is a time of balance between the two, a time to wake up for the “day” ahead. So, while many of us celebrate Resurrection Sunday and Easter, I think it’s beautiful to think of this as a time to stretch out and get ready for the summer ahead without hurling ourselves headlong into a breakneck pace.

So in closing, I hope you’re welcoming the light back with intentionality—reconnecting with your people and adventuring a little more. Always, I hope you choose a sacred slowness (or a sacred speed) that honors the way God made you and the world around you.

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Published on April 11, 2025 09:31

February 21, 2025

February '25 Newsletter

Inside:

February greeting

Classics Review/Art Collab

PUBLISHING NEWS!

Art Store Pop-up

January 31, 2025

Jan '25

Inside:

Pacing January

Name change for this newsletter

Writing and publishing news!

December 13, 2024

December

Inside:

December thoughts

Season Two of the Shantyman!

New art & art page

November 22, 2024

Ten Thousand Miles Away

Welcome to the final episode of season two of my serial adventure. Season three is outlined and research is ongoing for an audio version. Thank you so much for reading and sharing my writing. You, dear reader, have made this one of the most enjoyable writing experiences in my entire life.

Oh, the sun may shine through the London fog,
Or the river run quite clear,
Or the ocean brine turn into wine,
or I forget me beer,
Or I forget me beer, m’ boys,
Or the landlord’s quarter-day,
But I’ll never forget me own true love,
Ten thousand miles away!

For a night and a day, the Recompense crawled out of the East Indies, evading the Dutch fleet. Watch in and watch out, none slept soundly. Every man (and woman) waited for the moment they were either clear or doomed. The shantyman and his comrades kept their heads down in hopes of keeping them on their bodies.

Even as he slept, Jack whispered prayers for mercy. He asked to make it out to the open ocean. And he begged for any escape from Flora Burn, mistress of evil and queen of that floating prison. As is often the case with desperate prayers, the answer came in a most unexpected way shortly after the ship entered the open Pacific Ocean.

The entire crew felt the Recompense stretch in freedom when they left the last craggy island behind. There was no sign of any other ship between them and the sinking sun. Perhaps no one felt as relieved as the helmsman, who’d uttered his last confession in preparation for a watery grave.

The sun dipped behind the East Indies. The whisper of goodness that drew them safely through the rocky coastline grew still and the crew in turn became anxious. The last thing they needed to be was becalmed in the South Pacific. Captain Burn searched the evening sky as if she could spot the wind and harness it. It came, but not as a harbinger of goodwill to the Recompense.

What started as a breeze increased as if a conductor drew his orchestra steadily from pianissimo to the most chaotic forte he could muster. There was no pause in its increase. The exponential growth halted at nothing short of a gale.

Midway through this crescendo, rain began–not to fall, for falling implies a downward movement. Sheets of rain seemed to sting them from every direction.

Shortly after Captain Burn had ordered full sails to carry them away from that dangerous spot, she was forced to reef and reef again. All night, the Recompense reeled jerkily through the Pacific, with little control in direction.

“It feels like we’s being’ juggled back and fort’ in de hands of an angry god. For all our tossing, it doesn’t feel like we moved anywhere.” Roberts mused to no one inparticular.

“Well, Roberts. What do you want me to do about it?” Captain Burn asked darkly. Where she might have meant it rhetorically at other moments, he knew she called on the skills for which she kept Roberts close.

“Let’s consult de bones.” He said resolutely, his voice even deeper than usual.

In Burn’s cabin, Roberts’ consulted the unseen, eyes closed in concentration.

Flora watched anxiously, unknowingly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Will you be still?” He said the words slowly in an attempt to conceal his impatience.

“We’re here to consult the bones. Get to it.” She growled.

Roberts remained silent, focusing in on the voice he sought. Then, he picked up a canvas bag, shook it and then emptied its contents on the Captain’s table. Finger bones, vertebrae and other small remnants of unknown victims poured across the chart weighted there.

Captain Burn looked at them with puzzled eyes for a moment, then impatiently at Roberts and back again. She knew better than to rush him again, though.

“It would appeah we have a Jonah in our midst.”

“What do you expect me to do, throw my entire crew in one by one until–”

Roberts nodded at her as the realization flashed in her eyes. The Shantyman.

“Da seer warned you, didn’t he? He probably summoned dis starm wit his fiddle.”

“I heard rumors he was skilled in certain arts. They said many ships won’t have him.”

“Den we won’t ‘ave him eedah.

Storm at Sea off the Norwegian Coast A. Achenbach https://w.wiki/BWLN

Mary Bonney shook Jack in his hammock, who’d hardly fallen into a deep sleep after a long, terrible watch in the storm.

“Jack, wake up.”

The shantyman jerked awake.

“Jack, I think something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean, child?” He said as his eyes searched for light below deck.

“I–I just feel like something’s not right. Like something is terribly wrong.”

Jack searched Mary’s eyes in the faint lantern light. They were sincere and deeply dismayed. He wondered if she had the second sight.

“Alright, go find Weaver and tell him I’ll be with you shortly.” Jack donned his wool coat and strangely–for a reason he could never recall–his boots. He trudged up the ladder to the deck above, where he expected to find Weaver and Mary.

I trust the girl, but what am I supposed to tell Weaver? Even if he rallied the troops, then what?

But Jack never made it to Weaver. As soon as he set foot on deck, two of the Captain’s favorites grabbed him under the arms.

“Come with us, music man.” A tall redhead said.

“Easy boys, easy. I’ll come, but I’ve got a gunshot wound on my left–”

“Hear that? He says his arm hurts.” A light-haired, bearded one mocked.

The redhead answered, “It’s going to make it pretty hard to swim!” They cackled until they reached the weather deck where the wind and rain drowned them out.

Filtered sunlight oozed through the clouded eastern sky. Roberts’ apt description of being juggled back and forth held true. All around, the sea boiled as if angry. One small island lay off the starboard bow

“I hear they burn witches in the colonies.” Captain Burn shouted over the gale. “Due to our slight aversion to fire aboard, you’re going to meet a more merciful end.”

“But Captain, I–”

“Save it, Shantyman! Toss him.”

What little protest Jack made went unheard. Flora Burn’s ears had not the mercy to hear what little pleading the weather allowed to reach her ears.

Mac Gruffyd was on watch and looked on in horror. He was partway up the ratlines on the starboard shrouds when they threw Jack overboard. As soon as he witnessed the event, Mac leapt off the shrouds and dove into the deep after Jack.

Captain Burn saw what he’d done. Weaver and Mary (still dressed as a man and known to all as Tommy Davis) came on deck with several others and Burn expanded her offer to the rest of the crew.

“Would anyone like to join The Shantyman in his watery grave?” She jeered.

Clement Weaver turned to the man behind him and gave some unknown instruction. The man disappeared below and Weaver shoved Mary toward the rail.

“The sea in all her turbulence is more merciful than you! We’ll take our chances.”

Mary turned around and spoke just loudly enough for Clement to hear her above the wind, already decrescendoing in Jack’s absence. “But I can't swim!”

“What do you mean you can't swim?”

“I wasn't allowed to go near the Sea as a child; I never learned.”

Clement removed his heavy coat as he instructed the sailor, “Hold your breath and kick upwards. I'll find you. Overboard.”

She obeyed.

Shortly after their leap, the men whom Clement had given instructions to moments ago reappeared with more of Morris's loyal crew.

“Anyone else like to gamble with Davy Jones?” she screeched.

Several men didn't even take the time to answer her. They ran to the side and threw themselves into the brine.

“Ugh! Good riddance. Look, the winds are growing fair already.”

She barked orders to adjust the stays and change course. Flora Burn felt, for the first time in a couple of days, that she was in charge of her own destiny. La Belle Recompense proceeded southeast across the Pacific.

Ivan Aivazovsky Stormy Sea https://w.wiki/BWLR

When Mac dove in, he’d aimed as near to Jack’s splash as possible. Though Jack’s arm prevented him from swimming well in the choppy sea, he managed to kick himself to the surface. As soon as he rose above and gasped for air, it seemed a wave drove down upon him, suffocating him crash after crash.

Mac’s young arms wrapped around the older sailor and drug him upward.

“Just try to float!” Gruffyd yelled.

An indistinguishable number of splashes followed them and the Recompense withdrew. With much difficulty, the group swam toward the patchy green and craggy island.

When they conquered the riptide, the breakers mercifully drug them ashore and deposited them on a small beach below tall red-black cliffs. They panted and groaned and then laid in silence recovering from their escape—Mac Gruffyd, with Hudson in tow, Clement Weaver with the disguised Mary Bonney and a handful of other loyal shipmates.

“At my age, you’d think I’d be done learning lessons,” Jack said between heavy breaths. “But from now on, I mean to be very careful what I pray for.”

November 15, 2024

All Together Boys

I sure hope you’re enjoying season two of The Shantyman. It’s getting exciting (Giggles gleefully.) and I can’t wait for you to come along for the last two episodes of this season.

If you don’t wish to receive these weekly episodes (6 weeks per season) you can choose to receive only monthly updates in your subscription settings. Thanks and enjoy!

Come all you young sailor men, listen to me
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea
And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys
When the wind blows, we're all together, boys
Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow
Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes

Captain Burn sat frozen for a moment, counting the sails.

“Full sail! Set the courses! Show me the shrouds! Full sail!” She screamed. “Roberts! The charts from my cabin!”

Her petite feet made a thunderous noise and she descended to the helm to yell directly at the operator.

Roberts returned speedily with the charts and Flora shoved them in the helmsman’s face.

“You’re going to take us through these islands, you hear! And if you so much as nick my ship on a reef, we’ll be using you as bait.” She said, stabbing at the map.

“Aye, Captain,” He replied dutifully, though he couldn’t possibly see the charts. Nor could he be sure the directions he’d receive would prevent him from incurring her wrath.

“Redding! Find men to take soundings on both sides of the bow. Prepare the crew to reef sails on my command. This is the East Indies, there are more than enough islands to hide behind.”

Pasanggrahan op Java Deeleman, Charles Théodore via Wikimedia Commons https://w.wiki/BWJZ

After commissioning men to the task, Redding joined Flora and Roberts to examine the charts. Flora traced a potential route through one of the many strings of islands off the coast of southeast Asia.

“There’s just so many Dutch ships, Captain. Surely they’ll split up and blockade us in there. Then what’ll we do?” He said gazing down at the tight clusters of islands she intended to weave through.

Captain Flora Burn was in no mood to be questioned. One slash of her cutlass silenced Redding. Two of her other henchmen attended immediately to throw the body overboard.

“Thanks for your concern, Redding.” She said to his inanimate body. “You can be part of the diversion.

“You two,” she waved her hand toward a couple of sailors. “Break up some empty flour barrels and everything else we can afford to lose. Dispatch some of the slaves from the hold and toss them in, too. Let them think there’s no ship left to chase.”

She went on studying the charts, preparing to navigate through shallow waters full of hidden reefs and volcanic isles.

Upon hearing the Captain’s latter instructions to her men, Weaver and Hudson’s faces went white and they caught one another’s gaze. Weaver’s experience in Morris’ underground war and Hudson’s years of experience taught them something that, while hard to put into words, told them they needed to get off of that ship.

You see, the forces of good and evil move like winds, unseen and often unfelt by those whose hearts and minds are above or below their movements. These winds do not remain unaffected by mankind, however, and Morris’ good men knew that. Wicked deeds continuously add strength to forces of evil across the world. Not only did Hudson want to get himself and Mac Gruffyd far away from the abominable gale driving them around the Pacific, but he knew they needed to clear out before Captain Burn’s sins caught up to her. Evil deeds never go unpunished and her judgment would surely find her out eventually.

Hudson, who had rarely regretted anything, thought ruefully back to that morning when Weaver had advised them to hide in Southeast Asia rather than rejoin Captain Burn.

Regret was of no use to him and he shooed the moment away. He had to help load the small cannon or make other appearances of usefulness before he joined the victims of Flora Burn’s rage.

Albert Bierstadt: Farallon Islands, Pacific Ocean, California https://w.wiki/BWJx

The guns were readied, the diversion of bodies and feigned wreckage was left in the open sea and the sails were largely taken in. Menacingly small specks of land mocked La Belle Recompense as she entered the archipelago that bordered a larger island. Captain Burn ordered quiet as the reports of the soundings came from the men so tasked.

The silence weighed heavily on their chests. Yet, every man prayed it wouldn’t be broken. The moment the Recompense scraped the bottom or grated against rock would be the beginning of the end.

With the crew frozen in intense quiet, the shantyman had a moment to ponder Davis or Bonny or whatever her name might be.

In his younger days, Jack had known Anne Bonney only at a distance. After her release from prison, she quietly ran a fishing operation near the Kerry head of her beloved Éirinn. He’d sailed on one of her fishing vessels for some quick money a few times. Her location, though known by many a seafaring friend, remained conveniently undiscovered by those who wanted her execution.

Everyone said she’d escaped the noose because she’d been with child. No one had seen a bairn, so it was said to have been an excuse to slip the authorities. Anne must have worked hard to keep her hidden.

Anne’s steely-eyed daughter felt the shantyman’s gaze and turned. He joined her, enjoying the view off the bow.

“Took your mother’s maiden name, eh?”

“I never imagined someone would know it.”

“She was well-known. Is. Loved or hated, but never betwixt.”

“You know my mother?”

“It took me an era to earn sea-this weathered face.”

“But you’re no pirate,” she protested.

“Well, I only knew of her in the early days. But I worked a few of her fishing boats a couple years back. Didn’t know her well, but saw her around Shannon where I signed on.”

Her countenance changed and she took on an aloof air.

“Careful with that pouting my dear. People will see the lass in you before you know it. What’s your name, child?”

She glanced behind her for eavesdroppers and then lowered her voice. “Mary. Mary Bonney.”

Jack smiled and nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course. She named you after her dearest friend. Now, what’s made you cross?”

“We lived in Limerick and Ennis and finally Shannon for a reason. Just close enough to the coast that Mam could keep an eye on the boats but far enough to keep me away from the sea.”

“She probably just knew the crown wouldn’t be scouring County Clare for the infamous Anne Bonney. They’re still scouring the West Indies and the Caribbean as if she’d stay anywhere near Nassau after the trials.”

“Bullocks!” Mary scanned the deck to ensure she hadn’t drawn attention. “I know she didn’t want me anywhere near the sea. She warned me about it all the time. She never took me once to the shore. ‘The river is all the water you need,’ she’d say.”

“Don’t tell me you ran away on a pirate ship just to get a taste of salt water! She was just trying to protect you!”

John Everett, Seascape https://w.wiki/BWK2

“Sh!” she scowled at Jack. “I dressed as a boy and joined a whaler. I just wanted to take a trip to Greenland and back. It was as if the sea called my name from afar; I heard her whisper on the wind. I couldn’t help myself. I had to go. After a successful voyage on the whaler, we sold our cargo at Boston and headed east again. Shortly after we’d turned our oil into coin, Burn attacked and I was pressed into her crew. What other choice did I have?”

Jack sighed heavily. There wasn’t anything she could have done after the mistake was made. She might have exchanged her tarpaulin hat for a bonnet in the colonies and made her way home safely. But with the whaler heading that direction, how could she have known?

“Well, stick with old Jack, my dear. I’ll do everything in my power to get you and Mac home.”

“Mac?” She hurriedly looked out to sea to hide her blush. “What’s your interest in him?”

“I gave my word to Captain Morris that I’d get the boy to Wales.” It was true, though far from explaining the nature of his commission.

“Half six.” The crewman taking soundings on the starboard side called out.

“He must’ve been a great Captain for you to take loyalty so far.” Mary said.

Jack nodded and but didn’t answer. He turned his attention to the precarious dance the Recompense made through the rocky sea. The shantyman couldn’t help but think how much more gracefully Morris’ ship would have navigated the same dangers. Before long, Jack Hudson found himself intermittently humming and singing a tune about heading home, a song that temped him to hope.

Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys
Bring her head round into the weather
Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys
Sailing homeward to Mingulay!

What care we boys how white the Minch is?
What care we boys of windy weather
when we know that every inch is
sailing homeward to Mingulay?

The anxiety on deck came down a notch. The men breathed more deeply. Even Captain Burns’ pacing slowed some.

Burn directed the helmsman according to the soundings, drawing the ship away from a reef surrounding a small island. Two points to larboard. Sweat drenched the head and neck of the helmsman. If the small adjustment happened to drive the ship into an unseen obstacle, his neck was on the line.

Onward they wove, dangerously threading between cliff and reef. Once, a scraping shot through the quiet and every heart on the ship dropped. Attention turned to Captain Burn and the helmsman. The latter, sweat-drenched and short of breath, managed to calmly direct the ship over the obstacle—a reef, a sunken vessel, who knew?— and keep his life.

Roberts made a note on the chart of this and other undocumented islands, rocks and reefs. Flora continued to give orders with a look that should have set the helmsman’s jacket aflame.

“Lord, preserve us.” The Shantyman muttered intermittently, prompting unseen zephyrs of goodwill to aid the Recompense in traversing the deadly obstacle course.

Thanks for reading The Shantyman by Elicia Johnson (Plain Elicia Jane) If you’re enjoying this series, be sure to share it with a friend.

November 8, 2024

Anne Bonney

Welcome to the second season of my free serial adventure. I’m so excited for this episode! In many ways, the key moment of this episode inspired the entire series. I so hope you enjoy it.

If you don’t wish to receive these weekly episodes (6 weeks) you can choose to receive only monthly updates in your subscription settings. Thanks and enjoy!

Oh, they plundered and murdered and raided the sea
With canons roaring, pistols warring
They ravaged galleons mercilessly
Anne, and Mary Read

La Belle Récompense’s head start was only as long as it took for a messenger to signal the nearest ship in the Asian fleet. A Chinese junk gained on them quickly. Her slight, angular form shot through the water with ease.

Royal Museums Greenwich, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

“Let them come.” Captain Flora Burn seethed. “We’ll rip her to shreds.”

Captain Burn turned to watch her crew. The initial scurrying to get underway and stow her stolen cargo wound down. She evaluated the situation and decided on a posture of cool confidence.

“Roberts!” she called her second over. “Release the extra hands and tell the helmsman to make very subtle evasive maneuvers.”

“Wit dat ship on our tail?”

“The crew’ll be too nervous to sleep. It won’t take long to clear for action if we need them..”

“And in da meantime, you’re not worried about a ting. I see.” Roberts smiled with understanding.

“I don’t keep you for your brains. I keep you for your abilities. Just do it.”

“Yes, Captain,” he replied without the slightest tone of offense. He knew he was valuable to his Captain.

“And Roberts,”

“Aye?”

“Keep an eye on that shantyman. A fortune-teller among the Singaporean’s men sensed his presence and warned me about keeping him aboard. ”

“That why you killed them?” Roberts jerked his head back toward the port town they’d just ravaged.

“I’ve killed men for less.”

They both burst out laughing maniacally and Roberts turned away to dismiss the extra men.

In truth, Flora Burn had gotten all she imagined she could from that particular contact in the East Indies. Rather than pay for her cargo and let him continue doing business, she used the meeting to end his monopoly and increase the dread surrounding her name, not to mention the profit she’d make from “free” goods.

As Jack worked, often with both arms no matter how sore his shoulder might be, he didn’t fail to notice that the same suspicious characters who’d guarded the boats in Singapore hovered over him like a gull near a fishing harbor. Though he didn’t know what he’d done to earn her suspicion, it was clear Captain Burn didn’t trust him. He couldn’t whisper anything, not even an encouragement to young Gruffyd. There certainly wouldn’t be any clandestine meetings with Weaver regarding how they might get home.

Home? How would he get Mac anywhere safe? Jack began to wonder if he should have listened to Weaver. Maybe Toh could have helped. And here he’d convinced Weaver to stick with the Recompense. La Belle Recompense. What a name. Hadn’t he learned anything in the way of wisdom in all his years? Jack mumbled prayers more like curses for Flora Burn to receive her own beautiful retribution, but only after he and his comrades were far, far away.

Only a few hours later, Burns’ henchmen skulked through the decks quietly summoning all hands.

“Clear for action, but do it quietly.” They commanded.

“Shantyman,” Roberts said, standing over Jack as he rolled from his hammock. “Cap’n wants you where she can see you. Go load da nine-pounda on the fo’c’sle wit what’s left a’ ya.”

“Aye. I’ll be up directly.”

By the time Jack joined Tommy Davis and a strange shipmate at the bow, the sleek Chinese ship had sailed alongside them but remained outside of cannon range. The ship was light and fast, but surely under-armed for a battle with Flora’s precious 64-gunner. Tommy Davis quietly but laboriously lowered a bucket containing a few cannonballs next to Jack.

The shantyman gazed over the ship, breathing deeply as he evaluated the situation. He heard the rumble of men below cautiously rolling the big guns out. He didn’t sign up for this–obliterating a crew of men seeking justice for stolen goods. Jack wasn’t afraid to die, but he was uncomfortable with the thought of going out in an act of piracy.

Tommy gazed anxiously at the junk, which still taunted the Recompense from a greater distance than the guns could reach.

Would the boy live through the battle? Jack wondered. The familiarity of Tommy’s profile reminded Jack that he thought he’d made a connection while at Toh’s house.

“Tommy, are you related to the Davis family from Suffolk?”

The boy stiffened but answered with feigned coolness. “I’m sure we’re distantly related. I have kin in that corner of the kingdom.”

“Hmm. I used to know a gal who had your same…I could almost swear you–”

Canonfire interrupted Jack, who was more pondering the likeness aloud than actually conversing with Davis. The junk had drawn closer and fired a warning shot. Unless it came into range, the warning was quite pointless. They could no more injure the Recompense than Captain Burn’s guns could reach them. What were they up to?

Captain Burn ordered fighting sails– all the sails set except the courses—so they had clear visuals in all directions. When Flora could no longer hide her frustration and growing anxiety, she stood on the quarterdeck facing aft. She would not let the men see her frustration. The junk fell behind and then gained along the starboard side, teasing the Recompense from one side, then the other. Flora remained there gazing at it over the stern as if her eyes could light its sails on fire. Whatever they were up to, it infuriated her.

Shots from the smaller ship continued to splash into the brine. Her fin-like sails beckoned like arrows. Flora fought her desire to go after them; she just needed to get out of Southeast Asia with her cargo. What she needed was a distraction–something that would send the message to the crew that they were on their merry way and couldn’t care two figs about the junk broadside to them at an annoying distance.

Willem van de Velde the Younger, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

“Shantyman!” Captain Burn called out over the rush of wind and water.

Though Jack hurried, it took him far longer to traverse the entire length of the ship than Captain Burn’s sour mood allowed.

“How long’s it been?” She pointed to the bullet wound in his shoulder.

“‘Bout a fortnight, Captain.”

“Go get that sad hunk of wood out of your trunk and play me a ballad. A shantyman who can’t play isn’t worth his rations.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Jack hurried below to retrieve his fiddle. His mind spun between how to convince Captain Burn not to toss him overboard and a strange idea beginning to grow regarding Tommy Davis’s true identity. The latter was like a puzzle he’d only begun to piece together. The image began to take shape, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

An idea dawned on Jack Hudson, a risky one. A rush of excitement washed over him, like any gambler at a high-stakes game. He would test Tommy Davis with the ballad recounting the legend Jack suspected he was closely related to. If Captain Burn took offense, she’d shoot him where he stood. Regardless, the song called to him and he couldn’t resist.

Painfully and hastily, Jack tuned as he walked and therefore did a shoddy job of it. But there would be forgiveness amongst canon fire and wind. Jack positioned himself back on the fo’c’sle, with a hope and prayer that the Captain would leave him be so he’d have a good view of Davis. And maybe her difficulty in hearing the lyrics across the ship would save his life.

It took him a few tries to find the right key and play the hardly familiar tune. Every draw of the bow sent pain shooting through his shoulder. Soon enough, the music drew him in and the pain fell into the background. With his eyes set on Davis, who faced away from him, Jack began to sing:

I’ll tell you a tale of the pirate queen,
She who reigned the Caribbean Sea.
Pistols ready and her cutlass keen,
Villainous, infamous Anne Bonney.

At the first line, Davis stiffened and then slowly turned to face Jack. By the end of the last line, Hudson saw Ann Bonney’s steely eyes gazing out from Davis’ young visage. The lanky sailor looked from the shantyman to Captain Burn. Seeing nothing in the Captain’s manner to cause alarm, he turned back around to gaze over the bow, fighting to rein in his anger. Of course, Jack went on, one verse and chorus after another.

Engraved by Benjamin Cole[2] (1695–1766), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

On October 1720
Gold they struck, so the boys got drunk
An easy opportunity
For a ship of British marines

Anne and Mary fought alone
With cutlass flying, pistols firing
They fought hard for their ocean throne
But, lost their victory

Davis breathed heavily, whether in anger or fear, Jack couldn’t tell at first. Then, he drew near the song’s end and the boy spun around to face him again.

“You’re going to get us both killed,” the young sailor’s voice high in alarm.

As he played, Jack slowly rotated to glimpse Captain Burn.

Flora paced the quarter-deck, only half listening to his distant ballad. She brooded and muttered. What was this ship playing at, slinging shots into the brine? Captain Burn stopped on the starboard side and stared at the pursuing ship.

So Jack sang on.

And so the crew were captured
Thrown in prison, death by hanging
But, Anne Bonny was pardoned
For her belly held a child…

That child turned once more to face Jack, emotion bringing blood to his cheeks and tears to his eyes. That’s when the shantyman realized he’d only solved half the puzzle. He saw it now, plain as day, and wondered how he hadn’t seen it before.

Tommy Davis was not Anne Bonney’s son, but her daughter. Shock made him forget the words so he played an instrumental refrain before finishing the song.

How had the female child of Anne Bonney found her way onto a pirate ship?

“Sail ho! Sail to Starboard!”

“I know you idjit! They’ve been dancing around us like a–” Captain Burn’s face fell with her last word.

There on the western horizon, like a pack of wolves, crept the entire Dutch East Indian fleet.

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