Page 96 of Blow Me Down
The shock of hitting the water took my breath for a moment, but even as I heard the guard yell out something, I was finding a comfortable overhead stroke rhythm. A couple splashes followed, and I redoubled my efforts at making the shore before my captors caught up to me. A hand grabbing my ankle disabused me of that hope. I kicked it off and changed my course from the indigo shape of the island that was so temptingly close to the sharp black fingers of rocks that loomed up to my left.
Waves slapped hard against the rocks. I won myself a few precious seconds of time by changing my course so unexpectedly—time I used to try to get enough of an image of the rocks so I wouldn’t slam into them.
I did, of course. They were too big and too many, and the current too strong.
My leg scraped painfully over an underwater rock, causing me to first yell in pain, then sink when I swallowed a mouthful of seawater. I struggled back to the surface, coughing and sputtering, the experience horribly reminiscent of my rescue of Corbin.
A surge in the current slammed me up against a massive rock that seemed to appear out of nowhere, spinning me around so I was facing the ship. Two men were in the water, about a half dozen feet from me. I yelped from both the pain and the shock of seeing them so close, and dived down, twisting my body so I was swimming in the opposite direction.
I surfaced a little way away, only to be rocketed again up against another rock.
My arms and legs stung as salt water washed over the abrasions. I clutched the rock, trying desperately to get my breath, but a huge wave crashed over me then, dragging me down and toward the shore. My back scraped along a sharp outcropping of rock, spinning me around even farther. I fought to break free, so turned around I didn’t know which way was toward shore and which away from the rocks.
A shout reached me over the sound of the crashing waves as I surfaced, gasping for air, my body sore and battered. I trod water for a minute, expecting to be grabbed at any moment, but slowly, as my wits returned to me, I realized that I was in some sort of rocky enclave, surrounded by craggy rocks. Above me I could see the cloudy night sky. Below me, the water swirled around my legs via the opening I’d been carried through, bobbing me around the small space made by the rocks. The rocks themselves blocked the sight of anything else—island, ship, or anyone swimming nearby— which meant no one could see me.
More shouting ensued. I shivered and pressed myself up against the smoothest surface of rock I could find, praying all the while that no one else would find that handy little current that brought me there. The quicksilver touch of something against my leg had me adding the possibilities of sharks and barracuda to my list of things to worry about.
The sound of wood splintering on the rocks reached me next, followed by more shouting, but no one suddenly appeared in my little haven. Clearly the men had launched a rowboat in hopes of finding me. I trod water slowly, rubbing my bruised arms, wondering how long it would take before they decided I had drowned.
A long while, as it turned out.
What seemed like an eternity later (but probably was really around fifteen minutes), I crawled out of the surf, tried to get to my feet, staggered back down to my knees, and ended up dragging myself to the far side of a washed-up tree trunk, where I collapsed in a gasping, coughing heap. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the night sky, feeling as if I’d just run (or swum) a marathon.
“I hate this game,” I snarled as soon as I had the breath to do anything but pant. “I am so going to get Corbin when I see him. Which should be right this second if he had any idea of how a proper dashing pirate hero acts.”
I lifted my head from the bed of seaweed and tree root to glare at the night. No Corbin burst from the surrounding scrub forest to carry me off to a hot bath, warm bed, and lots and lots of antiseptic ointment.
“Dammit,” I grumbled, getting slowly to my feet. I had to clutch the tree trunk for a few minutes while my legs decided whether or not they had the strength remaining to carry me, but they came through for me. It took me the better part of an hour to make it back to the town. I had no idea where Bart’s ship was anchored, but one of the things I liked about Turtle’s Back was that you could climb to the top of the island and look down upon the whole of it.
I stood on the crest and hesitated. I was closer to the windward side of the island and Renata’s house, which I could see blazed with warm lights and sounds of people having fun. The governor’s house was on the other side of the town and looked uninhabited.
“Amy?”
“Eeeek!” I screamed, jumping a good foot off the ground. “Who’s that?”
“ ‘Tis just us,” a youthful voice said from behind me. A dark shape emerged from the smooth rock mound and approached me.
“Squawk!” A part of the shape fluttered.
“Bas? What on earth are you doing out here at this time of night?”
“Lookin‘ for bats. ‘Tis said if ye can catch one in yer hands, ye can call up the reaper himself and he’ll dance for ye.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake… come on, it’s too late for you to be out summoning death.”
“We goin‘ to Renata’s house?” he asked as I headed off in that direction.
“Yes. I’m exhausted and need some medical attention.” I stumbled over an unseen rock but managed to keep from falling. “Jez probably has all sorts of antisepticky herbs and such I can use to patch myself up.”
I couldn’t see his face, but I felt a tentative hand on my arm and was warmed by the thoughtfulness of the boy. “Ye’re wet. Ye were swimmin‘?”
“No. I’ve been escaping and almost drowning.”
“Oh, aye? Who were ye escapin‘ from?” There was a cheerful note in his voice that made me smile despite my aches, pains, and general grouchiness. “What was it like? Did ye see yer whole life afore yer eyes? Did the fishes start to nibble ye?”
“Bart, scary, no, and no.” A large palm leaf slapped me in the face. I pushed my way forward through the foliage to what I knew was a path leading from a small beach to the town.
The boy chattered all the way down into town, but despite his seemingly endless questions and theories about what it would be like to drown, to be eaten by a school of voracious fish, or to watch death dance, I was grateful for his presence. By the time we made it to Renata’s house, he was more or less tugging me along while I stumbled wearily behind.
