Page 47 of Escaping Pirates
When I lay down that evening back in my own cell, I felt his presence more acutely than ever, and I gained a new appreciation for our bunks being so close together. I snuck my hand through the bars to find Harlan’s hand, and the moment I did, he entwined our fingers. Holding his hand sent tingles shooting up my arm to combine with the heat in my chest, making me wonder if I was about to levitate. Instead of suppressing the hurricane of emotions related to Harlan like I normally did, I allowed them to run free. Heat swelled in my chest and butterflies danced in my stomach, a welcome change from the hunger I’d been used to for so long.
Harlan liked me, possibly even loved me. He wouldn’t have risked walking the plank and endured keelhauling if he didn’t. The warm glow in my chest spread to envelop my neck and face as a blush stained my cheeks. In a strange way, his fierce protectiveness of me when Tyrone became too handsy made me feel dainty and feminine, like I was a prize worthy of protection.
I nearly laughed at the thought. Dainty and feminine? I slept with rats in a pirate ship prison cell and spent my days scrubbing shoes and cleaning up after Sugar and Blossom. There was nothing feminine about that. But nevertheless, Harlan had a way of making me feel like a princess,hisprincess, no matter how threadbare my rags were or howfilthy my living conditions. He had been my knight in shining armor, swooping in to defend my honor when I felt trapped. If only I could find a way to let him know how much that meant to me.
Neither of us spoke. I didn’t want to do anything that would break the magical spell that had fallen over us.
“Your dress is different,” Harlan said the following night when I was finally done with my duties. Thankfully, Tyrone and his crew had departed earlier that day. At least I didn’t have to worry about being sold to him for a short time.
I gave a slow spin to show off the new dress. It was a faded brown one of Sugar’s that she had deemed unflattering and ugly, and as Tyrone was no longer aboard, they had ordered me to change.
“They seemed to think the red one I wore for Tyrone last night might tempt you,” I told him. “They don’t want any competition.”
“Youdon’t have any competition,” he answered. “And I most certainly was tempted.”
“Well, don’t tell Sugar and Blossom.”
Harlan pulled aside the loose bar. “Come over. I wanted to show you something.”
I squeezed through the gap. “What is it?”
“You need to learn how to defend yourself,” Harlan said. “If you ever have another situation with Tyrone or another man, you need to know how to fight back.”
“You’re still hurt, though,” I protested. Sugar and Blossom had taken great delight in bandaging up Harlan asbest they could that day, but he still moved slowly and occasionally flinched.
“Not badly. Most of the cuts were fairly superficial, so they’re healing quickly. I can handle teaching you to fight.”
“Everyone is so much bigger and stronger than I am,” I pointed out. “If it comes down to brute strength, I’ll always lose.”
“Fighting isn’t always about brute strength.”
“I’ll bet it helps, though.”
Harlan nodded slowly. “It does, but you can overcome that with enough training. Now—” He closed his fist around my upper arm tightly enough that I was trapped, but not hard enough to hurt me. “If someone grabs you, what would you do?”
I attempted to pull away and scrabbled my fingers against his, trying to loosen his hold on my arm.
“They’ll expect you to do that,” Harlan noted. “It’s the natural response to try to pull away, but you want to take them by surprise. Move in fast and hit them in the throat, eyes, or groin. Then use their surprise to get away.”
“I can’t run far on this ship,” I commented, but nevertheless obeyed, closing the distance between us and miming a chopping motion to his neck.
“Good! But don’t use the side of your hand. Hands break fairly easily in fights. Focus on using your elbows and knees. It hurts them a lot more than it will hurt you. Once the victim fights back, the attacker will usually retreat a step. Follow them and continue attacking. Once you lose your advantage, it’s hard to regain it, so press it for as long as possible. It doesn’t matter how big someone is if they are blinded or curled up in pain.”
I tried to follow his instructions, but Harlan was too quick and soon had my arm twisted around my back.
“You attack me and I’ll show you,” he instructed.
No one as small as I was could ever best a self-respecting pirate, and no person with any amount of self-preservation would attack someone as large as Harlan, but I played along and acted like I was going to grab him.
In a flash, Harlan moved in so close that our chests touched, crowding me so I was forced to walk in reverse until my back brushed up against the cell wall. “Always throw the first punch,” he told me. “Get the upper hand and keep it as long as possible.”
Hours later, I felt ready to drop. The only light in the brig came from the moon threading silver through the barred porthole. I stood on the cold, damp floor, fists up, facing Harlan. My muscles burned and sweat clung to the back of my neck like a second skin.
“Again,” Harlan said. “Aim for the throat this time.”
I sighed but stepped forward, raising my fists just like he’d shown me. Left jab. Right hook. Elbow strike.
“Good. That elbow was cleaner,” he said, his voice low but approving. “If someone grabs you, don’t yank away. Twist your wristtowardtheir thumb. Fast and sharp. Try it.”
