Page 5 of Escaping Pirates
Dawn came so gradually that I barely noticed the sky lightening in painstakingly slow increments. Once I finally recognized the shifting hues of the sky out the porthole across the walkway, I stared hungrily at it, desperate for anything to distract me. We must have been too far out at sea for birds; there were none of the familiar seagull screams to greet the dawn, only a slow rise in the grumbling from the pirates overhead, barely audible over the slapping of the waves against the ship’s hull.
Once the sun had risen properly and shouts about rigging and sails reached me, I couldn’t prevent myself from watching the door to the brig. Was I to be given any food or drink, or was its absence another tactic to break my will? If so, and as much as I despised admitting it, it was working.
Hours passed. I tried shouting, but either my throat was too parched from dehydration for my calls to be heard, or I was being actively ignored. Had they perhaps forgotten about me? Or what if Captain Harsh intended me to stay here for three solid days before anyone came to check on me?
A rat scuttled across my shoe, and I instantly kicked it so hard that it flew against the wall and lay still after that. I stared, momentarily appalled that I’d killed something even though it was just a rat. Then a second rat scurried across the floor and I repeated the action, hoping it was one of the foul creatures that had tried to touch me the night before so that my revenge would be warranted. Soon, I couldn’t stop myself. Every time a new rat tried to run across my cell floor, I kicked at it, missing more often than I made contact as they grew wiser. The only way I managed to determine the passage of time was by how many rats I’d managed to kill.When the live ones stopped coming into my cell, I used the edge of my boot to nudge the pile of dead ones into the privy hole. The last thing I needed was for it to smell any worse in here.
Eventually, my exhaustion overpowered me and I managed to sleep for a few fitful hours unbothered by the rats hiding in the brig’s dark corners. When I awoke again, it was still daylight and I had a pounding headache that caused my vision to blur. Was it from dehydration or the insufficient sleep? Perhaps the foul stench and mold played a part. At least this time when I sat up, the rats stayed at bay or else scampered across the floors of the other cells and gave mine a wide berth. I supposed it was an improvement.
The daylight from the porthole across the walkway was momentarily blocked as another ship passed very close by. Hope spurred me off my bunk to clutch at the iron bars. “Help!” I screamed, ignoring how my voice tore at my parched throat. “Help me!”
Somehow, Father must have already found out and sent a ship to rescue me. Joy swelled within my chest. I was saved! “I’m down here!” I shouted over and over, waiting to hear the crash of weapon on weapon as whoever Father had hired cut down the pirates like stalks of wheat.
I listened intently, waiting for the sounds of battle, but none came. Instead, I heard only laughter and friendly chatter. Did they intend to barter for my freedom rather than launching a full assault? I would take whatever I could get. Anything would be better than this hovel of a cell.
“Boarding!” a voice called out, and the ship shuddered slightly. I spent several minutes trying to guess what my rescuers were doing. Were they coming to search the ship? It could be the king’s navy and Captain Harsh was acting the part of a noble merchant to avoid trouble.
Minutes crawled by. Just as I filled my lungs with air, preparing to shout again, the brig door was flung open. Another man, younger than the captain but not by much, entered the brig with the captain. Apart from his hair being an oily black instead of fiery red, the two men looked remarkably similar. “I keep the best rum well hidden from the crew. It’s just through here, where they never look,” Captain Harsh was saying.
The oily-haired man stopped in front of my cell and appraised me. “Harsh, you didn’t introduce me to your pretty little friend. Is she from Haven Harbor?” My skin crawled from the way he was looking at me, and I was suddenly very, very glad for the iron bars that separated us. This was no savior.
“I don’t know her name,” Harsh said carelessly. “My girls want a handmaiden, and this girl is as good as any. Did you want that drink?”
The other man stroked his mustache. Grease stained his fingertips. “I’ll buy her from you,” he offered. “I like the look of her.”
My stomach clenched as Harsh considered the offer. Serving his whiny daughters suddenly seemed like a golden opportunity compared to the alternative.
“I’d have to ask Sugar and Blossom,” he said thoughtfully. “They might be hesitant to let her go. But this young lady has yet to accept their generous offer. I suppose it’s an alternative to her walking the plank.” He grinned at me, exposing his teeth like a crocodile. “No one can ever say that Captain Harsh Renshaw is anything but generous. Would you rather walk the plank, be sold to my brother Tyrone, or help my girls with their hair and lady things?”
I lowered my eyes. “I’ll help your daughters.”
“You don’t have to,” the captain said. I heard the relish inhis voice and despised it. “My gentlemanly brother offered to take you off my hands, and if you don’t comply or complete your duties with a good attitude, I’d be happy to take him up on it. He has just as impressive a ship as mine, and we meet up at sea every few weeks, so if you don’t want to help Sugar and Blossom?—”
“I’ll help your daughters,” I repeated, more loudly this time. I lifted my head, intending to fire a blazing look at both men, but the expression on Tyrone’s face made me want to curl into a ball and hide from the world. Serving Sugar and Blossom would be unpleasant, but much safer.
“Too bad,” Tyrone said silkily. “I know how to treat a woman well.” He turned his attention to his brother. “If she ever acts up or my nieces get tired of her, the offer still stands.”
They wandered off, still in pursuit of their drinks, and I huddled on the wooden slats that ran the length of the iron bars separating my cell from the next one. I couldn’t stop my hands and arms from shaking. What had I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 4
Tyrone’s ship had barely slipped past the porthole and back out to sea when Captain Harsh came back to the brig, smiling ear to ear. “You made a good choice,” he told me brightly as he unlocked my cell. “My girls will be delighted to have a friend. Come along.”
Lightheaded from hunger, I followed Captain Harsh, trying not to notice the stares from the crewmates as I trailed along after the massive, red-headed man.
“Here we are,” Harsh said, grandly sweeping his hand toward a large suite built right next to the captain’s quarters. “Have a good day, girls! Your new friend has agreed to be your handmaiden. What’s your name, lass?”
“Elena.”
“And how old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Right between my daughters, then. Sugar here is nineteen and Blossom is twenty-one. Have fun today, girls!” Harsh snapped the door closed behind him.
“Where am I supposed to sleep?” I asked, looking around for some sort of cot or mat. As long as it was softerthan the hard slats I’d endured the night before, I wasn’t about to be picky. Sugar was applying a heavy dark line to her eyelids in front of the mirror, and Blossom had her nose in a book, lounging on a sofa.
“Ew, Ellen thinks she’s going to sleep here!” Sugar laughed.
