Page 8 of Escaping Pirates
This wasn’t the life I was meant to lead. All those years training to take over Father’s trade merchant business, all those years learning etiquette and reviewing trade proposals, had yielded me nothing. Why, why,whyhad I been so eager to rush off into the world to prove how capable I was? What a joke. All I had done was prove that I could get myself into increasingly worse situations.
“Steady hands and a clear mind can turn any storm into a breeze,” Father always said when he’d told me about his difficult negotiations. Our situations were hardly comparable; Father had always been well-nourished and comfortable in our manor house, but he was right. I had tothink, and clearthoughts were a difficulty when the only thing I’d eaten for two days was a single stolen scone. At least Sugar and Blossom had allowed me some water to ward off the dehydration hovering and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. My head throbbed, and I pressed the heels of my hands against my closed eyes.
What were the facts?
The captain had said we would make it to port the following day, so if I was released from my cell at some point to help Sugar and Blossom, I could jump overboard and make it to land. Additionally, every city port had ships coming and going constantly, so I might not even need to make it to land before escaping—another ship could pick me up before long. I was not a champion swimmer, but I could stay afloat well enough, and I preferred those odds to remaining a pirate crew’s captive.
I briefly debated asking Sugar or Blossom if they would need me to accompany them to town to help with their shopping, but I discarded the idea. Making the request would most likely get me locked up as a safety precaution. They would instantly assume that I planned to abandon them, and they would be correct.
And even if I was locked in my cell, once we were at the dock, I could scream for help. There were several portholes throughout the brig, including one across the walkway from me and another two cells over. The dock’s attendants would hear and raise an alarm. Hope wasn’t lost, but it was still with a heavy heart that I squirmed my way back into my own cell and forced the bar back to its original place before collapsing onto my bunk, exhausted and discouraged.
During the entire night, I was plagued by nightmares that all depicted me sleeping through the entire time at shore and discovering that I would be a prisoner forever. Icontinually jerked awake, panicked and desperately checking to see if the sun had risen yet, then struggling to fall asleep again, still haunted by the same worries as when I was dreaming.
Once the sky showed even the faintest sign of light, I couldn’t sleep anymore. I watched for the sunrise, every inch of me tingling with anticipation. This was the day. I would be free, and this would all be but a past nightmare.
Not long after dawn, one of the crew came to unlock my cell door. “The cap’n wants to see ye,” he said in a gruff, careless tone.
“Of course.” The model of obedience, I trailed after him, eagerly ascending the steps and even appreciating the way the sunlight filtered through the rigging and nets that rose up above my head. Land wasn’t in sight yet, but it would be soon. It was a day full of hope.
“In here,” the crewman said, prodding me in the back so I was forced into the captain’s quarters. He was sitting at his desk, poring over ledgers that looked very similar to the ones that were always strewn across my Father’s desk back home. He too had always risen early for work.
“Good morning, Captain,” I greeted him politely.
“Ah yes, come in, girl,” he said with a single glance upward. “Thank you Steele, that will be all. Go wake the cook.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Steele left, shutting the door behind him with a snap, and his heavy footsteps receded back across the deck.
“We’ll be coming into port later today,” Captain Harsh told me. “And I wanted to know if you’d like me to send a message to anyone.”
“I…beg your pardon?” I asked, sure I had misheard.
“A message? A letter to your family or perhaps to a certain young man?”
This was so unexpected that I stood still for a full thirty seconds. “Why?”
“Because I’m a kindhearted man, that’s why.” The captain smiled to reveal his golden teeth. “I take good care of my passengers.”
He really was a dreadful liar. Was he planning to take the contact information and send a ransom note? Was he planning to lure me into a false sense of security to lay a trap for my rescuers and kill? Or maybe he was planning to simply attack my family using the address provided. No, I couldn’t allow that to happen. But who else would I contact?
“Where are we?”
“In the lovely country of Ebora. Have you heard of it?”
I stiffened. Of all the difficult trading negotiations Father dealt with, Ebora was the worst. Their government had recently been overthrown, and as such, the laws, tariffs, and taxes were ever-changing, resulting in a perpetual headache for merchants trying to turn a profit. Father’s employees often came back with reports of a great deal of criminal activity as the new government slowly took over.
Captain Harsh had been watching my reactions closely. “I see you must be familiar with the stories. It’s been a good port for us this last year and a half. Not really a place for the likes of a lady like you, though. Now, would you like me to send a letter for you?”
“Yes. What may I use to compose one?”
“Here.” The captain pushed a parchment and quill toward me. “I’ll even seal it once you’re done, after I read it of course.”
Like the letter would ever get where I meant it to go. I took the parchment and ink, my brain still workingovertime to decipher the captain’s plans and mastermind a plan to thwart whatever unknown goal he had.
“Who will be the lucky person receiving the letter?” Harsh asked.
“Darren,” I said, trying to force my lips into a girlish simper. “He’s my fiancé.”
“Proceed, then.” Harsh narrowed his eyes at the paper in front of me. “Keep it short.”
