Passage to America

That was wonderful! I truly applaud you. That last part ws abit confusing but I truly loved it!

It was an interesting plot-line, but I have to agree with the first person to review. Make sure to use spell-check everytime you post something and read it over and over (it will get frustrating and your head might hurt after a while, but hey, better reviews, eh?).

I wrote a crit awhile ago but it got wiped. So this'll be short.

I think it has a lot of potential as a novel, believe it or not - a sort of action-packed yarn. At the moment, it's just too brief in scenes and just goes 'Scene 1, Scene 2...' you see? I know that you weren't aiming to write a novel or novella, but I believe that if you're writing a short story, you shouldn't ideally span over a long time and have too much action. Otherwise it comes across as rushed. Like I said, it has the basis to be a lot longer.
You could rewrite it with part 1 more or less the same length as the entirety of what you have posted. That way it woudl be broken up and easier to deal with. Just an idea.
For what is, however, I really liked it. Varied vocabulary, could spacing of sentences. I would have liked to have known more of Alina and her upbringing, but that was made up for by the character of Jim Fowler, who with a little more work done could be quite memorable.

Here are some things I picked up on:

My father's inn, The Gold Cannon, was crowded as usual, but my father was always able to make room.

Suddenly, the wall in front of me caved in, erupting in flames. I screamed, "The inn's on fire!"

With that, he was gone

With that, he disappeared over the rigging, and was gone.

Thanks for the advice! It really helped. Looking at it again, now I see that it really does need some work. But, like I said in the description, it was written for 4-H, so there was a limit as to how many words the story could be. The maximum number of words you could have was 1800, which makes the story extremely short. However, now that it's already been graded by the judge and is no longer a 4-H piece, I can work on it and make it much longer.

Comments in red.

Fantasyfreak14 wrote:August 1735

My father's inn, The Gold Cannon, was crowded as usual, but my father was always able to make room. It was late, so I slowly began mounting the staircase to my bedroom. As I rummaged through my dresser for my nightgown, I noticed something strange about the drawer. The jump from stairs to dresser is too sudden: you say that you "began mounting" the stairs and then suddenly you're rummaging through a dresser. Something I hadn't noticed before. There seemed to be a catch in the left hand corner. A "catch"? Like a door? I'm not sure that that's the phrase you want. At first I thought that you meant it was "catching", as it it was stuck.
Curious, I carefully lifted the catch...and found myself overwhelmed by what was inside. There was what looked like a tattered piece of paper, but when I looked again, I realized that it was a map of the Caribbean. That doesn't sound too overwhelming to me. bCapital "B"eside the map...I gasped in astonishment. If you gasp, it's obviously in astonishment. Saying that you gasped at all is overly dramatic. Next to the map was a slightly curved dagger encased and engraved in gold. The map seemed to date back to the Hundred years War "Hundred Years War" (capitalized).. The dagger, however, was from even before that. 'c. 982 A.D.' the gold inscription read. ...I don't think they actually dated their daggers.
"I have to show Father," I told myself, taking the intriguing objects with me. We get that they're supposed to be intriguing: no need to rub it in.
I had known for a long time that our family's dwelling had existed for awhile "a while" (noun form)., but I had never even imagined that it had stood for centuries, refurnished and rebuilt for ages Um. A) if it was refurnished then the furniture would not be original and B) it sounds unlikely that the narrator would assume that an ancient dagger had been in the back of her dresser for centuries and she'd never noticed. Even if this were so, why would she assume that just because the dagger is old makes the dresser old? Does having a mummy in a museum make the building come from ancient Egypt?. I was halfway to my parents' bedchamber when I heard screams and shouts coming from outside, and what sounded like cannon-fire.
"We're under attack!" someone yelled.
"It's the French!" someone else screamed. "The French are attacking!"
Not another battle! I thought. Way way too nonchalant. It sounds like a fussy child. "Aw man, not another one!" It was then That Nix the capital "T". I realized what I must do. I rushed back into my bedroom and grabbed an old rucksack from under my bed and thrust the objects inside. I then proceeded to dash up the staircase that led to the part of our home that was the inn, banging on everyone's door to warn them about the French. This doesn't sound too plausible. They're still asleep with cannon-fire outside? And she takes the time to go find a backpack when the city is crumbling?
Suddenly, the wall in front of me caved in, erupting in flames. I screamed, "The inn's on fire!"
Hopefully, my parents would hear. The wall just caved in and erupted in flames. If they didn't hear, they're both deaf and probably dead if they didn't feel it. It was then that I realized my skirt had caught on something. I frantically began trying to free myself when a flaming beam fell from the ceiling, something struck me on the head, and all went black. I don't understand why things are on fire. Cannons don't catch things on fire. Also, ceiling beams wouldn't burn that quickly.
I awoke in Father's arms. He seemed to be running as fast as he could as the fighting continued around him.
"W...Where are we going?" I mumbled, barely incomprehensible. "barely incomprehensible" means that she was very clear. I don't think that's what you're going for.
"Shh. Be quiet, Alina. We're leaving England. For the time being at least. We have to hurry. Your mother and Georgie are already on the ship." He explains a lot for a running man in a battle carrying a young child.
"Ship? What ship?"
Father smiled gently. "The Red Trident. It's our passage to America." Again, he's running and there is fighting and gun fire going on. He is not going to gently smile at anyone.
"America," I breathed, and fell asleep. Why does she fall back asleep? Shouldn't she run? Shouldn't she be awake if there's a battle going on? Shouldn't she be afraid? ...Does she have a concussion or something?

September 1735

My family and I have been on this ship for a month. It seems longer than that, and I am sick of the sea. Traveling across the Atlantic Ocean most certainly has its ups and downs. There are too many British refugees to count. Most of the children are boys between the ages of six and sixteen. One is seventeen, my own age. Woah. Dude. Her dad was carrying a seventeen-year-old girl? And running? Let's think about this.
"Ali, this is boring," my seven-year-old brother stated. "When are we getting there?"
"It'll be awhile "a while" (noun form) yet, Georgie," I replied. "You just have to be patient."
Back in my cabin, I examined the objects in my rucksack for what seemed like the thousandth time since I had acquired them. Where did they come from? What were they doing in my room? Probably "what had they been doing in my room", as they are no longer there. Was the map or the dagger of any significance? Don't act like the reader is stupid, please. They are both obviously of great significance or you would not be talking about them.
It was then that my life was Strike "was". changed forever. I heard screams and shouts coming from the deck, like I did the night of the French invasion, except it was much different. This is like saying "She was wearing a red dress like the one she wore yesterday. Only it was different." What is that supposed to mean?
"PIRATES!" someone screamed.
I slowly crept out to see what was occurring. Uh well let's hazard a guess and say that there are pirates somewhere. I stopped in my attempt to help the captain when I realized just how many pirates were on board. We weren't told that any pirates had boarded in the first place. Also, how can a 17 year-old girl help a captain of a ship against pirates? There were at least twenty or more. Either "there were at least twenty" or "there were twenty or more". It is redundant to have both. I gasped as I saw my little brother kicking and struggling against the gigantic man who held him. What man? You cannot just throw in comments like this. My screams were silenced by a foreign hand clamped onto my mouth as I glimpsed the dead bodies of my parents lying on the deck. This sentence is too long. Splice it. Also, is she screaming about her parents or her brother? I kicked and struggled even as I felt someone dragging me into the darkness. Darkness of what?
"Stop struggling, girl," a young man's voice whispered in my ear. "I'm not going to hurt you." He changed his tone of voice abruptly. "Listen to me if you want to live." What was his tone at first? How does it change?
"Who are you?" I demanded. ...Her mouth is covered.
"No one of consequence. Now listen to me and do as I say. When the crew leaves, escape down the rigging and row to the nearest shore. It's either Trinidad and Tobago or Grenada. If you want to save your brother, board a ship that's going to Port Royal, Jamaica. That's where the pirates are headed." So they stole her brother? You never clarified this. Why would they? And why would they leave the ship and life boats? And what does "It's either Trinidad and Tobago or Grenada" mean? Does he not know?
"How do you know all this?"
"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Awfully modern saying.
With that, he was gone.

October 1735

Jim Fowler Who? was a mystery, from his flame red head to the bottom of his boots. He claimed he was British, but I knew better than that. What is that supposed to mean? He had a strange accent that I had never heard before. Where is she supposed to be from? You'd think he could fake an accent or pick a different country to come from. I ran into him on several occasions after he rescued me from the pirates. I seemed to run into him wherever I went which made me wonder, was it just coincidence, or was he stalking me? He's stalking you. Nevertheless, I welcomed his company--when he appeared that is--on my quest to save my brother. You've let a month lapse, and any drama that may have existed has vanished. He seemed to come and go as if he were a ghost. One minute he was there, and the next he wasn't--not that I believe in such things, but despite his quite evident flaw of leaving you behind and returning unexpectedly, he fascinated me. Awkward line.
He knew so much about the world for someone his age, which was surprising. As much as he was intriguing, How old is he? he was also confusing. He was much different from when I first met him on the ship. Then again, he was under great stress trying to rescue me. Sometimes he is as confusing as teh "the" origin of the artifacts in my rucksack. You're being too obvious about bringing them up again.
It turns out that what the pirates wanted was not at Port Royal. Obviously.
"From what I found out by spying on the pirates, they took your brother and the other boys to try to convert them into piracy." Jim explained on one occasion.
"What!" I exclaimed. "Why?"
He shrugged. "I guess that they want to recruit more pirates. Taking them young is the best way...or so I've heard."
I still was not convinced. His behavior was beginning to rouse my suspicion, and I didn't even know what I suspected him of. A spy for the French? Ridiculous! He would've killed me or handed me over to the French by now. Pirate? That's even more laughable. However, his knowledge about pirates was remarkable for someone who claims to learn it all by spying on them. Besides, if he was a pirate, why would he help me?
I never showed him the map, for as much as I wanted to trust him, I couldn't. The pirates found the location of their "stolen" treasure without a map. ...What treasure? Soon after, Jim disappeared without a trace. he returned once again as I boarded the ship Ocean's Doom for the island in question. What island? What question?
"Alina, I've been spying on the pirates. I don't think their treasure is as easy to open as they think it is. I...I've seen the chest."
"Who are you, really?" I demanded.
"Are you alright? "all right" I'm Jim Fowler, remember?"
"Something tells me you aren't who you say you are." There isn't enough setup to make this scene dramatic.
"Alina, I...I..."
"You're one of them." I accused softly. "You don't want to help me or my brother at all, do you? You just want the treasure for yourself!"
"I...It's not like that...I can explain..."
"Explain what?" I cried. "All your disappearance to that pirate ship known as Dragon's Lust? I've seen it in the harbor. I saw you on that ship from a distance. I can recognize you anywhere!" I took a deep breath. "Why did you lie to me? Why...what else are you, pirate? A mutineer? A thief?" I'm so confused...
His face was as cold as stone. "I'm sorry you see me that way, Alina."
With that, he disappeared over the rigging, and was gone. So he jumped in the water?
My breath caught in my throat. I suddenly collapsed on the deck and began to cry. I realized then that I had just been venting my anger at him for lying. I now understood the truth: I had not meant a word of what I had just said. What? What did she even say? She just asked questions...
It was on the twenty-first day of October when I discovered how to board the ship unnoticed. There was a large hole in the side of the ship from past battles. I silently crept through the passage, and fumbled around in the dark. I ran into something rectangular...the chest! What chest? My hand conveniently fell on a lantern with matches. Well that's lucky. I lit the lamp and nearly fell over in shock. There on the chest with faded letter was the name: Daniel Berkeley.
This chest belonged to my ancestor? Hate to break it to you, but "Berkeley" isn't really an uncommon name. That would kind of being like someone named James Smith holding up a book by Elizabith Smith and saying they were cousins. Then that must mean...the dagger. It must have been looted from the same location or...I noticed what should have been the keyhole. We're never told that the dagger is connected... In its place was a slightly curved slot in the exact shape of the dagger. Determined, I slide the dagger into the slot when...
A rough hand jerked me to my feet. I found myself flung onto the deck.
"Now, who does this be, Baldwin?"
He prodded me forward with his sword. "Alina Berkeley." I stated confidently. "I believe you hold my brother George against his will. I've come to get him back."
The pirates laughed. "Walk the plank. We have what we want from ye. Yer dagger be with the treasure." Ye gods! Please no pirate dialect!
"Wait," I said. "Jim..."
"What do you want?"
"Jim, I'm sorry for what I said. I was angry and confused. before I leave, will you forgive me?" Where does Jim come from?
"On second thought, kill her instead." The captain said.
Jim's eyes widened. "No!" he pointed his sword at the captain's heart. "Anything but that!"
"I always knew I couldn't trust you, Fowler. Creeping off and returning unexpectedly. Who are you really, boy?"
"My name is Aiden O'Dwyer. I believe you knew my mother, Maeve? We have a score to settle, Peter Mullet."

After a gruesome bur victorious battle won by Jim...Aiden, I was greeted by the excited chatter of little boys scattering onto the deck. You can't skip the epic battle!
"Ali!" Georgie jumped into my arms and related everything that had happened in the past months to me.
"I told you I'd find him," said Aiden.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
"I'm sorry I lied to you about my name...about everything."
"Aiden?" I said. "What will you do now? Mullet's dad, you've avenged your mother's mutineer. ...What? Will you return to Ireland, and become the next Pirate King in your mother's stead? It's an awful long way from here."
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Only time can tell. What about you, Miss Berkeley? You have enough money with that chest to settle like a queen in the colonies. ...What? That was your original plan. Will you go or stay?"
"I think I'll stay. The sea is quite fascinating after all." ...What?