Page 32 of Escaping Pirates
Besides, Sugar had told me to clean something, and who was I to disobey orders?
The same smell that always lingered below deck hit me with additional force when I entered the brig, thick enough to choke on. The brig had always smelled bad, but now, knowingthat Harlan was suffering because of it? It felt personal, like the ship itself had joined forces with our captors to conspire against us.
I clutched the sudsy bucket and stiff-bristled brush and glared at the grime in the cells with a ferocity. Gavvet had been in such a hurry to get Harlan out that his cell door had been left ajar. I entered and began by clawing out every bit of straw and heaping it into the furthest corner of the brig, next to the raided liquor cabinet. It would be better to have no straw in his cell than that foul stuff. Every scratch of straw dug into my skin and under my nails like a protest, but I didn’t care.
I also disposed of his filthy and ratted blanket. I would force Harlan to share my quilt if necessary. He wouldn’t get worse if I could help it. I continued on until nothing remained in the cell other than the bunk, then got down onto my hands and knees and began to scrub.
I scrubbed the planks with the stiff-bristled brush, dunking it repeatedly into the water then attacking each bitof mildew and mold with a vengeance. I might not be able to make the brig clean, but I could do my best to make it less foul.
It wasn’t until I had scrubbed for more than an hour that it occurred to me that I must have gotten significantly stronger since I’d been forced into servitude. The first time I’d scrubbed the deck had been some of the worst pain of my life, but now? Even though my knees were sore, my muscles had become hardened and tough.
At some point past noon, one of the pirates came to find me.
“You just love cleaning, don’t you?” he laughed, looking around at where I was wiping down each individual bar.
“Sugar told me to,” I answered. It was true in a way. “I’m just following instructions.”
“The girls want you.”
“I’m coming.” I gave the cell one last sweeping look. It felt different now. It still wasn’t clean, exactly, but at least it looked slightly cared for. I could finish later. If I needed to, I would squeeze through the loose bar in the dead of night and complete the task.
Sugar and Blossom were in a surprisingly good mood when I got to their quarters.
“He’s been sleeping very well,” Blossom told me proudly. “And he’s declining.”
“What?” I hurried over to look at him.
“His temperature is almost back to normal now.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “So you mean his fever is decreasing?”
“I said that. He’s declining.”
I didn’t bother correcting Blossom. She could use whatever incorrect speech she wanted to as long as Harlan was recovering. My fingers itched to stroke his hair and adjust his blankets, but I couldn’t with Sugar or Blossom watching. “You called for me,” I reminded them, still looking at Harlan. “What do you need?”
“I wanted to know what you were doing all morning.”
“Cleaning like you told me to.”
“Where?”
I hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Harlan’s cell. If it’s clean, he’s less likely to get sick, and I know how much you want him to get well. I don’t think Blossom has had a single dance yet, and sick people don’t dance very well.”
Sugar and Blossom thought about that for a minute, then smiled, causing the knot of apprehension in my stomach to loosen.
“Good plan. You can go finish that, then. We want him to get better.”
“He would recover faster with better bedding,” I told them, wondering if I was pushing my luck too far. “He would be better rested and more ready to see you. I’m sure he’d appreciate it immensely.”
The sisters exchanged looks, but again, they surprised me by not only agreeing, but also by adding a wash bowl, comb, and fresh set of clothing for Harlan. They instructed me to continue what I was doing and to prepare the cell to be fit for a king.
Thrilled with my success in procuring so many extra things, I took everything and completed the cleaning, working late into the afternoon. Just before nightfall, I heard the brig door’s hinges groan as Harlan was escorted inside by Steele. I wasn’t sure the day of rest had helped; he didn’tlook much better, but as the only lighting came from the dim sunset beyond the porthole and the lantern I’d recently lit, it was difficult to tell. If nothing else, at least he didn’t look worse.
Both Harlan and I were locked into our respective cells. The moment Steele left, Harlan took time to survey his cell thoroughly. Even in the dim light, I could see his eyebrows raise. His eyes were still fever-glazed, but they searched for mine.
“You’ve been busy,” he observed.
I smiled. “Just tending my favorite neighbor’s estate. He went on some business trip, and his housekeeper was sleeping on the job, so I had to fill in.”
