Page 7 of Escaping Pirates
I withdrew my hand. “I’m…I’m sorry.” Hoping that I could distract them with more talk about boys, I went on, “So how about you? I’m guessing dating opportunities are limited aboard a pirate ship.”
“Are you incarcerating that we have no romantic experience?” Blossom squawked.
I let out a breath of laughter. “I think you mean insinuating, and no, I’m not. I just?—”
Blossom’s thin frame swelled as she inflated herself. “How dare you contradict me! You have no idea what you’re talking about. Daddy!”
“Yes, Daddy!” Sugar shrieked, and new fear leapt in my stomach. I never should have let my guard down and laughed. What would Captain Harsh do if he discovered I’d accidentally insulted his girls?
“No, I’m sorry,” I said in a rush, panic in my voice. “Don’t call him; I really didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to make conversation. I?—”
The door flew open, and there stood Captain Harsh, his face almost as red as his braided beard. “What is it, my treasures?”
Sugar threw me a smug expression before sticking out her bottom lip. “I wanted to know when I’ll get to meet a boy.”
“Soon enough, my love. I would be hard-pressed to find anyone good enough for you.” Harsh threw a suspicious look at me. “Was the new girl bothering either of you?”
“She was telling us how she met lots of boys before,” Blossom pouted.
“I didn’t say—” I began, but clamped my mouth shut as Harsh glowered.
“I can sell her to your Uncle Tyrone so she’s out of your hair,” he cooed to his girls, and my blood pressure skyrocketed, causing spots to pop into my vision. “I can send up a flare to call him back today if you want.”
“No, we’ll allow her to stay as long as she doesn’t say anything offensive.” Blossom sighed, giving an air of patient long-suffering even as she shot me a glare through narrowed eyes.
“I won’t,” I breathed. I was quickly becoming a mere shell of the confident woman I once was, turned instead into a submissive mouse, terrified and skittish.
“If you do,” Harsh said, “there are punishments we use at sea that a scrap of a girl like you can’t even fathom.”
It was impossible to meet his eyes as he towered over me, the plush rug beneath his boots suddenly demanding my utmost attention. “I understand.”
“So whatever my girls ask of you, you will do with the best attitude or you will suffermywrath.”
My head bobbed up and down a fraction of an inch.
“Let me know if I can get you anything, girls,” Harsh told his daughters, his voice snapping back to doting father so rapidly that it was disconcerting. “We’ll make it to port tomorrow, and I’ll be going to shore for supplies.”
Sugar squealed and clapped her hands. “Ella, you can make a list.”
Blossom shoved an inkpot and paper into my hands asher father left. “I want more romance books and a new parasol.”
“More sweets,” Sugar added. “We’re almost out.”
For the remainder of the afternoon, I took note of everything they wanted at market, trimmed their toenails, and didn’t say a single word.
CHAPTER 5
They’re making port tomorrow, I repeated in my mind over and over that night after Sugar and Blossom had finally dismissed me and I’d been locked back in the brig.I’ll be able to escape.
Father traded in every major city; once I made it to shore, I was certain I’d be able to find one of his colleagues and send word. But first, I would have to escape. Instead of sleeping like I wanted to, I slowly made my way around my cell, testing each and every rusted bar. The ones on my door facing the walkway were most solid, but the ones separating my cell from the next one were more forgiving. Right near the foot of my wooden bunk, one bar did more than rattle. It scraped back and forth, wiggling enough that by heaving it back and forth, I managed to wedge it an inch to the side.
There were no other prisoners; the next cell was likely unlocked. With renewed hope, I continued working at the iron bar, forcing it to slowly enlarge the hole until I’d worn a lengthwise groove in the hardened wood. Finally, I managed to force the bar over so it was angled against the next cell bar. The gap wasn’t large, and I had to lie onthe floor so I could squirm through the largest part of the hole. Even with all my wrestling against the bars, it was still a tight squeeze, and for a few minutes, I feared that I would become stuck. It was bad enough to be held hostage aboard a pirate ship; the last thing I needed was to be discovered awkwardly wedged in the bars between two cells and unable to extricate myself, my nose pressed into moldy, rodent-scented straw.
Rats watched from the corners but didn’t come closer as I fought my way through to the next cell. Once my legs slithered through the gap, I scrambled to my feet and crossed the cell in two eager bounds to shove at the door.
It was locked.
“No,” I whispered, rattling the cell door. Why would they lock an empty cell? I slammed my fist against the bars and accomplished nothing other than bruising my hand, then rushed around the second cell, trying all the bars to find any sort of weakness, but the only flaw was the bar already angled outward that led back to my original cell. I slumped to the ground, shoulders shaking as I pulled in ragged breaths, trying to bully my weakening body into cooperating with me and staying calm.
