Page 55 of A Princess, Stolen
For the next half hour, I continued searching for ways to escape. We were now moving again. Maybe I could disable the engine and then we would have to go ashore, except that the lifeboat wasn’t ready to use even though Nathan had tried to get it seaworthy. So, that idea was out of the question.
I hesitantly opened a door that led into the belly of the ship. I knew the engine room was down there because the men had bailed water from there. I carefully descended the metal stairs not knowing what I was actually searching for. An emergency hiding place, perhaps—a room with a steel door that I could lock from the inside if Isaac came on board.
The further I descended, the more the bass from the engine thumped in my chest. It thundered with every beat of my heart.
Where are the life jackets? Where is the fire extinguisher?
I can’t swim! And neither can Willa.
The images in my memory pushed to the forefront again as if they were rising the deeper I went. I couldn’t forget how frantically I had screamed for Dad. What had happened after that? What had I seen?
I stopped for a moment and pressed my hands to my eyelids. I didn’t want these memories, no matter how much I had once wanted them. I felt like I had let Mom down. I should have called for her, not Dad.
I dropped my arms and banished the memory by consciously concentrating on the short corridor. There were three doors: one saidcontrol room, the otherengine room, and the last one had nothing written on it. Sweat gathered on the back of my neck because it was sweltering hot. The hum of the engine still pounded in my chest as if I were reciting mantras in a dark voice. I hurried to the third door and pushed down the handle.
Darkness yawned at me. I felt for the light switch and found it next to the door. A bare light bulb flickered on and cast its meager light over a large room in which several fishing nets hung on some poles in the middle of the room and some on the walls. Most looked like windsocks several yards long with a pointy end and a wider opening, while others consisted of several round sacks sewn together. I walked past the poles and fixtures and spotted oilskins, buoys, and ropes, even a raft leaning against the wall.
Why was there a raft on board? It was barely big enough to hold one or two people. It could never save the entire crew. I felt the tight ropes that bound the logs together. It was handcrafted but not finished because there were more logs on the floor. I was wondering if it would be sturdy enough to serve as a replacement for the lifeboat when I smelled the sharp smell of camphor.
“Take your hands off that immediately!”
Frightened, I let go of the log and turned. “Sparta! W-what are you doing here?”
“I should ask you that.” He came in and closed the door, trapping me in the spacious room with him.
“I’m in charge of the engine and control room. I’m working down here,” he said, not rudely but rather calmly. “I heard a noise.” The reddish-purple pustules on his face glowed even brighter today.
Step by step, he approached.
I automatically backed away and promptly became tangled in a net dangling from a pole structure.
“Do you know what the most insidious thing is about these nets? Or any kind of fishing net?”
“No!” I tried to pull my boot out of the mess but couldn’t. Sparta had almost reached me. “A net is made up of many individual knots and threads, and with every pull and every wriggle, the knots tighten. A deadly trap for anything caught in it.”
“You’re a fisherman from Coldville,” I heard myself say. Troy had told me that Sparta had been to sea several times.
“You don’t have to be a fisherman to kill with a net. Besides, it’s unwise to give away what you know about us so casually.” Again, his eyes glowed like those of a predator targeting its prey.
I hastily jumped back, ripping the entire net off the device. With a startled cry, I stumbled backward and landed on my butt.Damn it!I quickly bent over to untie the net from the eyelets of my laced boot but it hung on securely. So, I plucked at the threads like a madwoman, but the only thing I achieved was that the fine, wiry fabric sliced my palms.
“Do you need help?”
I looked up in pain.
Sparta smiled thinly.
“I’m stuck,” I admitted, my heart pounding as I wiped the blood from my hands on my jeans.
Sparta walked around a net that was stretched between two poles. He was tall. As tall as Nathan, I’m sure. That surprised me because I had never noticed, probably because he looked so gaunt.
He crouched next to me, suddenly at eye level with me. The smell of camphor stung my nose like acetic acid. Maybe he was about to pull a knife and calmly stab me before tossing me out a lower hatch into the ocean. If there was a lower hatch.
Wide-eyed, I watched as he fiddled with the net with his spider-like hands. To my amazement, he untied the threads within seconds. Then, he stood and his look from above was one big threat. “Never come down here again, do you understand?”
I nodded silently.
“If I catch you touching the raft again, I’ll personally throw you into the Atlantic, hand and foot bound.”
