Page 27 of Escaping Pirates
I pulled my hand out from under his. “I’m doing all right.” I wasn’t sure what would happen if I began to accept presents from Tyrone, and as pleasant as he’d been that evening, I wasn’t fool enough to think a pirate would just give gifts with no expectation of getting something in return. No comfort item was worth being indebted to a pirate.
“I have a few dresses that would look wonderful on you,” he pressed. “My nieces told me they want to have a dance soon, and I’d be glad to partner you.”
“I really don’t want to put you to any trouble,” I told him as Harsh glowered my way.
“I could give you a tour of my ship,” Tyrone offered. “The night is still young.”
My temporary complacency evaporated on the spot. “I’m sure it’s lovely, but I’m very tired,” I told him. “It’s been a long day.”
“Don’t be disrespect—” Captain Harsh began, but an alarm bell clanged loudly, cutting off the end of his rebuke.
“Kraken!” one of the sailors above shouted.
Sugar and Blossom both shrieked and clutched at Harlan’s arms while Tyrone and Harsh leapt to their feet and ran for the deck, leaving everyone else behind.
“Battle stations!” I heard Harsh bellow. “Steele, get those two to the brig; we don’t want any distractions!”
The kraken’s timing was impeccable, though I wasn’t sure if I would prefer being crushed in a kraken’s tentacles or enduring whatever Tyrone had in mind. The brief glance I had before being escorted to the brig was of a few thin tentacles emerging from the ocean’s depths, not nearly as terrifying as the one in the stories about the siren hunter, who had battled one larger than any two ships.
“Get in,” Steele grunted, shoving Harlan between the shoulder blades to force him into his cell and pointed me into mine. I complied without protest, sitting on my bunk while Steele locked us in and sprinted back for the stairs.
“We’ll be fine,” Harlan immediately assured me. “My crew took out much larger krakens than the one out there.” Before I could answer, Harlan went on, “Do you know that man you were sitting with? Sugar and Blossom didn’t answer any of my questions.”
“He’s their uncle. His name is Tyrone.”
“He seems to have taken a fancy to you.” There was a bitterness in his voice. “Was he the one who tried to buy you?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I should’ve known,” Harlan snarled, sounding uncharacteristically mean. The ship pitched and I was launched off my bunk and staggered a few steps before righting myself.
“He was surprisingly well-mannered, to be honest.”
“Even the slimiest fish can look silver in certain lighting.”
The ship pitched again, and I clutched at the bars to steady myself as I gave a slight laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” I glanced nervously out the porthole to see a tentacle whip past. “Apparently, the best time for metaphors isduring a kraken attack. You must be channeling your inner Blossom.”
“Well then, I have plenty to say about that Tyrone.”
“Are you going to compare him to a slippery eel? That’s the impression I get.”
Harlan grinned and placed his hands over mine on the bars. “I was going to say that a sailor smiles widest when he’s about to hook a fish.”
“Am I a fish now? I promise he wasn’t going to hook me.”
“He sure is trying.”
A strange sucking, slurping sound came from the privy hole in Harlan’s cell. I looked in that direction, wondering if the kraken shifting in the deep had moved under the ship, rather than around it.
Water sloshed across the floor of the brig, and then came a thud—heavy, wet, and much too close.
“Harlan?” I asked nervously.
He turned and gave a strangled yelp.
A thick, glistening tentacle snaked up through the tiny hole in the corner of Harlan’s cell. It writhed like something pulled straight from a nightmare, glistening with seawater and slime, and slapped against the floor with a squelch.
I screamed, and the tentacle surged forward.
