was done with me. And that bothered me more than I liked.
* * * * *
Searing wax spattered across the pages of my book. I tried to wipe the droplets away but only succeeded in spreading a fine film of wax across “Sonnet 29.” I scraped at the wax, my fingernail rasping against the paper.
I heard the creak of the hatch door opening and the rhythm of slow footsteps.
“Morning watch already? It feels too early for that.”
No one answered, but the footsteps grew nearer.
“Skidmore?”
I strained to remember the last bell I heard. I could have sworn it was still midnight watch. Skidmore worked the midnight watch and only came down after he was off duty. A visit from him this time of night was unprecedented.
I put the book down and stood, stretching the candle out beyond the bars and squinted into the blackness. I could see nothing. For a moment I thought to blow out the flame in order to see better, but decided against it. It would take my eyes minutes to adjust. Besides, I wanted to see who my strange visitor was.
He was nimble. Nearly silent. I remembered the way Nicholas moved with such easy grace. My heart thudded. It had to be him. His ridicule was past due.
“Mr. Holladay?”
All that answered me was a dim echo.
“If you’re here to humiliate me, let’s get on with it.”
Still no answer.
My palms grew damp. A sour rot spread in my stomach.
I tried to provoke a response. “If you’re not here to mock me, then you must be here to apologize. Well, I accept. No hard feelings. In fact, don’t even bother to say you are sorry. Let’s forget the whole sordid incident and enjoy a lovely conversation over a cup of rum.”
Still no answer. There was something unnerving in the sly, steady approach of the stranger.
“I know you are there. Show yourself.”
I was now positive that whoever was approaching was not Nicholas. He would have answered me. I was sure of that. The air grew thicker, heavier somehow. It felt wet in my lungs as if it were drowning me. My eyes widened as they stared into the darkness, my ears strained to hear every small noise.
A sharp jingle of metal sounded just beyond the pool of my candlelight. My brave façade faltered. I had not forgotten that I was locked on a ship with a hundred lawless barbarians.
Footsteps shuffled towards me and a figure materialized. A bald head ringed by a mop of stringy grey hair. Scraggly grey brows over sunken eyes. A hooked nose, crooked from some past damage. A spattering of pock marks. A thin, silver scar marking the man’s forehead. Thin, cracked lips turned up in a smile.
With a sudden intake of breath, I recognized him as the small, wiry pirate that had threatened me on the deck during the attack. He couldn’t get at me then, with Nicholas pointing a sword at his throat, but now, in the stillness of the night, this man had come for what he wanted.
CHAPTER TEN
M y stomach tightened as the unwanted visitor approached. There was a resolve in his eyes that caused the hair on the back of my neck to prickle.
One of his arms was entwined around a large, ceramic jug. In his other hand he playfully jingled a ring of keys. I swallowed hard. His threatening smile grew wider as he saw the fear in my eyes. His eyes probed every last inch of me, lingering on the bit of bare skin that showed at the top of my robe.
My hand flew to the lapels, and I covered my exposed skin as if it would help at this point. My thoughts raced as I tried to find a way out, a way to fight back. Obviously, running was not an option. I would have to face him. That left me with only two courses of action—beg for mercy and hope to soften his heart or put on an air of bravado in hope of intimidating him. He hardly seemed sympathetic enough to listen to any measure of begging. Remembering how my strength and temper had scared Nicholas and Skidmore my first day in the brig, I decided to try intimidation.
I took a deliberate step towards the man. “What do
* * * * *
Searing wax spattered across the pages of my book. I tried to wipe the droplets away but only succeeded in spreading a fine film of wax across “Sonnet 29.” I scraped at the wax, my fingernail rasping against the paper.
I heard the creak of the hatch door opening and the rhythm of slow footsteps.
“Morning watch already? It feels too early for that.”
No one answered, but the footsteps grew nearer.
“Skidmore?”
I strained to remember the last bell I heard. I could have sworn it was still midnight watch. Skidmore worked the midnight watch and only came down after he was off duty. A visit from him this time of night was unprecedented.
I put the book down and stood, stretching the candle out beyond the bars and squinted into the blackness. I could see nothing. For a moment I thought to blow out the flame in order to see better, but decided against it. It would take my eyes minutes to adjust. Besides, I wanted to see who my strange visitor was.
He was nimble. Nearly silent. I remembered the way Nicholas moved with such easy grace. My heart thudded. It had to be him. His ridicule was past due.
“Mr. Holladay?”
All that answered me was a dim echo.
“If you’re here to humiliate me, let’s get on with it.”
Still no answer.
My palms grew damp. A sour rot spread in my stomach.
I tried to provoke a response. “If you’re not here to mock me, then you must be here to apologize. Well, I accept. No hard feelings. In fact, don’t even bother to say you are sorry. Let’s forget the whole sordid incident and enjoy a lovely conversation over a cup of rum.”
Still no answer. There was something unnerving in the sly, steady approach of the stranger.
“I know you are there. Show yourself.”
I was now positive that whoever was approaching was not Nicholas. He would have answered me. I was sure of that. The air grew thicker, heavier somehow. It felt wet in my lungs as if it were drowning me. My eyes widened as they stared into the darkness, my ears strained to hear every small noise.
A sharp jingle of metal sounded just beyond the pool of my candlelight. My brave façade faltered. I had not forgotten that I was locked on a ship with a hundred lawless barbarians.
Footsteps shuffled towards me and a figure materialized. A bald head ringed by a mop of stringy grey hair. Scraggly grey brows over sunken eyes. A hooked nose, crooked from some past damage. A spattering of pock marks. A thin, silver scar marking the man’s forehead. Thin, cracked lips turned up in a smile.
With a sudden intake of breath, I recognized him as the small, wiry pirate that had threatened me on the deck during the attack. He couldn’t get at me then, with Nicholas pointing a sword at his throat, but now, in the stillness of the night, this man had come for what he wanted.
CHAPTER TEN
M y stomach tightened as the unwanted visitor approached. There was a resolve in his eyes that caused the hair on the back of my neck to prickle.
One of his arms was entwined around a large, ceramic jug. In his other hand he playfully jingled a ring of keys. I swallowed hard. His threatening smile grew wider as he saw the fear in my eyes. His eyes probed every last inch of me, lingering on the bit of bare skin that showed at the top of my robe.
My hand flew to the lapels, and I covered my exposed skin as if it would help at this point. My thoughts raced as I tried to find a way out, a way to fight back. Obviously, running was not an option. I would have to face him. That left me with only two courses of action—beg for mercy and hope to soften his heart or put on an air of bravado in hope of intimidating him. He hardly seemed sympathetic enough to listen to any measure of begging. Remembering how my strength and temper had scared Nicholas and Skidmore my first day in the brig, I decided to try intimidation.
I took a deliberate step towards the man. “What do
Similar Books
