by Monica Hahn
They were arguing about what to do with her, in Apries, which was the rough language used by most seamen. Catarina had already known they were seamen, since they had that bronzed, rough-cut look, and the smell of salt that clung to them. They discussed whether they would have time to try and ransom her, or whether it would be more profitable to take her aboard and sell her elsewhere. As she listened to them, Catarina searched for anything sharp that might help her get free. Of course, even with the use of her arms again, she wouldn’t be in much better shape, but at least it was a start. She spied a piece of broken glass on the floor near her foot and started to inch towards it.
“What’s your name, girl?” the leader asked her, in Apries.
Catarina ignored him. He stood up and walked over to her. Her heart beat faster, but she just stared at him, concentrating on telling him with her eyes that he was a despicable human being. He laughed as he got closer to her, and then repeated the query. She remained silent. He lifted a hand and smacked her cheek. It wasn’t a harsh blow, but it still jerked her head back. She glared at him, not a squeak leaving her lips.
“Maybe she doesn’t understand the question,” one of the other men offered. “What’s your name, sweets?” he asked, in badly accented Panskorin, which was the official language of Tibercon, and had become the universal language of trade. Catarina ignored him.
They tried a few other languages, some of them obviously more fluent than others. When they had exhausted all their skills, the leader shrugged. “I think she’s just not talking,” he said. “And without a name, we can’t go to her family.”
“What about the guard that was with her?” the one that had suggested a different language offered. “He was wearing a uniform and maybe we could figure it out.”
“Too much trouble,” the third man said. “I say we either enjoy her now and then dump her body or take her with us. I’d bet she’d fetch a pretty price in Laorgy.”
As they were considering this, Catarina bent down to seize the piece of glass and then backed up to where she was against the corner again. This maneuver shifted the mattress and some dust billowed up. She almost sneezed, but she repressed it, and concentrated on slicing through the rope with the glass edge. It was painful, and slow, as the other side pressed against her palm and cut her.
The door burst open, interrupting both the men’s conversation and her efforts. A burly seaman stood there and grinned at her captors. “Time to go lads,” he said. “The captain’s been killed by the first mate who has taken over and wants us out of here tonight.” His grin faded as he saw Catarina. “What’s with the lass?” he asked.
“Just a barroom wench to make the night more pleasant,” one of them said while another stood in front of Catarina to block the newcomer’s view.
“Dressed awfully fine for a barroom,” he said, crossing his massive arms against his chest.
Catarina wondered if he might help her if she asked, but then he laughed.
“No time for mischief,” he said. “Leave her be and let’s get going if you want a ship to sail on. None of us want to be here tomorrow after this night’s work.”
They gathered up their things and followed him out of the door, closing it behind them. Catarina sat there stunned for a quick second, and then scrambled to her feet, heading for the door. She dropped the piece of glass as she used both hands to pry the door open, which wasn’t easy working backwards and with her hands slippery from fresh blood. She gave a thankful sob as it opened, and she stepped out into the dank alleyway. She looked around, uncertain in the dim light of the moon and a few lanterns hanging about as to which way to run. Before she could decide, one of her captors was there. That decided her direction, and she ran away from him, as fast as she could go, but she tripped over an uneven plank and with her hands tied behind her couldn’t get back up fast enough. He grabbed her by an arm and wrenched her to her feet.
“You didn’t think we were really going to leave you?” he asked.
Catarina flailed and kicked and screamed. It was ear piercing and frantic, but nobody cared. Her struggles didn’t seem to faze her captor, either. He just held her away from him and finally snarled, “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll choke you unconscious.”
Catarina knew he would, and briefly considered that being unconscious might be preferable to this, but her hesitation was long enough for him to get a gag in her mouth. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her the remaining distance down to the docks. There he climbed aboard a ship, and met with his accomplices.
Catarina had been aboard plenty of ships in her life. It was the preferred method of travel through the island kingdoms, after all, but she had no idea before that this part of a ship existed. They took her way down deep, into the bowels of a dirty, smelly place where she could hear the squeaking of rats over the sounds of departure. She shuddered and fought as they untied her, but it was only to fasten her wrists and ankles to the manacles that were fastened into the numerous posts. She saw by the light of the flickering lantern that this immense hold was outfitted for human cargo, although she appeared to be the only passenger. One of the men flicked her under the chin and they left her. She almost called out to them through the gag. When she saw that one light disappear up the stairs and then heard the thud of the hatch shutting, she was overwhelmed with a feeling of absolute despair. It was the darkest she had ever seen, and the rat noises seemed to be coming closer. She moved experimentally and found that her chains allowed her to move about four feet. Not that there was anywhere to move to, and there was no way that she was getting through metal with a piece of broken glass. Although she’d lost that, too.
Catarina finally sat down on the filthy straw covering the floor and cried. She wasn’t the type to normally resort to tears, but this was a situation worthy of it. When all her tears were gone she wiped her face with her sleeve and realized she was thirsty. Very thirsty. And hungry. And exhausted. And because she couldn’t do anything about being hungry or thirsty right then, she gingerly curled up on the unpleasant floor and eventually slept.
Chapter Ten
After leaving Tarik’s crew, Seb and Johan had stuck together, and drifted around to different pirate ships, hoping for a crew that felt like home. Nothing was very satisfying after having sailed with Tarik. They had talked one particular pirate captain out of attacking the Quest, since they felt that nothing good would come of it, and also because they couldn’t have fought against their previous comrades. That captain hadn’t been particularly pleased with them and had abandoned them at the next tiny port, which is why they had been desperate enough to take a job with their current ship, which was outfitted as a slavery vessel, although currently the crew was masquerading as pirates rather than slavers. But the ship was heading to Tibercon, which was a big enough port that they felt it was worth the distaste they felt to try and get a more advantageous position. They hadn’t been docked in Port Sinbad long when the first mate had knifed the captain in a barroom brawl and then taken off with as many of the crew as he could muster back on the ship. Seb and Johan had been peacefully sleeping, but they roused at the unusual activity of the ship readying to cast off and were up on deck in time to see a girl being loaded as cargo.
Seb and Johan confronted the new captain about their unexpected guest. They were uncomfortable about it for a couple of reasons. For one, everyone knew that any unmarried female on board a ship was just bad luck. And two, neither of them liked the idea of slavery, especially the sex trade. The captain was more inclined to care about the first reason than the second, but even that failed to sway him, since he knew that there were plenty of his mutinous crew that would see any sign of him believing in an old superstition as a sign of weakness. They were already angry about leaving Port Sinbad with no bounty. The girl was their only hope of a payout at all. The captain felt that he had done the gentlemanly thing by refusing to let his men rape her and then throw her overboard. Selling her to someone in Laorgy might not be preferable to her, but at l
east it eased his conscience (such as it was) a bit. And here were a couple of his most capable seamen giving him grief about it. He was tired of spending any more energy worrying about the girl.
“We keep her,” he said. “And we sell her.”
They glared at him, and then glanced at each other. He didn’t particularly like their look. “But, if you’re so concerned about her well-being,” he said, “I’m giving you both orders to keep her safe until we reach Laorgy.”
There was the glance exchanged between the two again, but then they shrugged in unison. “Aye, aye, captain,” Johan said, and Seb saluted ironically.
The captain was relieved. Not so much because he cared about the girl, not even though she would sell for a higher price in better condition, but because this would keep Seb and Johan away from mingling with the rest of the malcontents. And he worried that they just might be influential enough to make another mutiny a reality. They had only been with the crew for the last short journey, but they were good, solid men that everyone had grown to like and trust. And he would no longer have to worry about his crew fighting over the girl. It was a good solution.
Seb and Johan made the best of their new assignment. Even though the girl didn’t talk, she was still a treat to look at, even in her current condition. They tried to improve her situation the best they could—offering her food and water, which she took, and a cloth to wash with, which she didn’t. But after a week of living down in the bowels, with a deck of cards and a few candles, only one of them leaving at a time to get more supplies, they were both getting tired of it all. They missed the sea air and the salty wind and the sunshine on their faces. They hadn’t stayed with a pirate’s life because they liked being cooped up indoors. So, when they were offered a game of cards up on deck with some of the rest of the crew, they agreed to it. The girl looked a little worried, but they let her know that they would be back shortly, although they weren’t sure that she could understand their language.
*****
Catarina did understand Apries, and every other language she’d heard so far on this wretched ship. She was well educated, and her father being a diplomat meant she’d had a good reason to learn other languages, which she did easily. While her original decision to not speak had been so that she wouldn’t give away her name and become a commodity to ransom, now it was partly out of stubbornness and partly because she had nothing to say to these people. Under regular circumstances she might have enjoyed talking with Seb and Johan, who treated her with respect, even if they were rough men, but these weren’t regular circumstances, and she thought she could learn more about what was going to happen to her if she remained uncommunicative. After she had overheard them talk about what was in store for her, though, she wished she didn’t know. That was why she had refused to get cleaned up, even though she was dying for some warm water. There was absolutely no reason to look any better than she had to. Selling for a higher price wouldn’t guarantee better treatment, and in fact might make her life even worse from some of the things that she’d heard. She had resigned herself to her fate, but made a commitment to either escape, if possible, or kill herself if not. By now her family would have given up on her, so she didn’t feel any more remorse about their grief. It was the best option for her.
She shuddered as she felt the rats coming closer. She was sure she could see their beady red eyes in the light of the single candle that Seb and Johan had left for her. She wished they hadn’t left her. Their cheerful banter made her captivity at least a bit more bearable, and the rats stayed away with them there.
She heard footsteps coming closer, along with the sound of a bottle clinking and almost smiled with relief. She had thought they’d be gone longer, but her sense of time was distorting with the lack of sun. Maybe they were done and back already.
But as the sounds drew closer, she felt a tinge of fear. That was not Seb or Johan’s voice, and she didn’t trust anyone else on this foul vessel. They came into view of her flickering candle, and with the light from their lantern, she saw that they were the original scoundrels that had taken her in the first place. Dirty and coarse, they were talking about their plans for her, and although she didn’t understand some of the words they used, she got the gist and shuddered in repulsion. They were all drunk, and swayed as they looked at her, holding the lantern up high. One of them leaned in and roughly pushed some matted hair away from her face.
“Such soft skin,” he said, leering at her, his mouth stretching in a smile and revealing broken, rotting teeth and releasing even more of a foul odor.
She didn’t respond. She was close to tears. She had been summoning up all her energy to deal with the eventual sale at Laorgy, and she didn’t have any left to deal with this unexpected and immediate threat.
The pirate that was still touching her came even closer, and she instinctively arched her head up to avoid his kiss. So instead he put his mouth on her neck, kissing her noisily. His companions laughed. Catarina had never been a violent person. She’d never thought much about whether she could harm another human being or not, but right now, this pirate didn’t seem very human, and she was no longer thinking. She was feeling, and it was a blind rage that welled up inside from all the days of mistreatment and agonizing rumination. Since he was now close enough to her mouth to be a target, she suddenly clamped her teeth firmly on the edge of his filthy ear.
The pirate shrieked. His companions continued to laugh. She bit down harder, and as he jerked his head back, she ripped a large chunk of his ear off. He screamed even louder and clapped a hand over his injury, stumbling back. His companions stopped laughing and tried to examine the damage done. Catarina spit the piece of ear out and hissed at them. They all slowly backed away from her, and muttered phrases about her being a witch. She laughed, and then kept laughing as they looked even more frightened of her. She knew that their fear probably wouldn’t last long, that eventually they would realize there were three of them and that she was helpless, but at least she was successfully holding them off for now.
They kept backing away, and she felt a moment of elation, but then they stopped and conferred. They had just started moving towards her again when Johan came down into the hold.
“What are you doing here?” he asked them, his normally jovial tones sharp.
Catarina couldn’t hear their replies, but she saw their lantern light rapidly move away.
Johan moved into her line of vision, and he came swiftly towards her, swearing as he saw the blood on her chin. He picked up the formerly rejected cloth and dunked it in the barrel of water, wringing it out before gently swabbing her face and neck. She let him, since the cold water felt refreshing. His concerned look changed to puzzlement as he realized that it wasn’t her blood. He offered her a cup of water, and she drank after swishing some around and spitting it out—manners be damned. She couldn’t stand the taste anymore.
Johan noticed the rats gathering on the floor nearby, and curious at them being so fearless, he kicked a couple away with the toe of his boot and the others scattered. He knelt down and saw the blood-soaked piece of ear on the ground that had attracted the rats. He picked it up and it took him a minute to register what it was, then he threw back his head and laughed. Catarina would have laughed, too, but the whole experience had left her shaken, and she was fighting back tears. Seb got some amusement out of it, though, when he came down a few minutes later to see why Johan hadn’t returned sooner. Johan had apparently just been on a mission to retrieve more money.
“Good thing I came, too,” Johan said, after handing Seb the piece of ear and explaining what had happened. “Imagine them thinking that they could attack our little spitfire here!”
“Guess she doesn’t need us protecting her, after all,” Seb said, winking in Catarina’s direction.
“Still, I don’t like the looks of things,” Johan said. “Enough of the crew was loyal to the old captain that I feel a mutiny coming, especially with no payday in sight. I hope we can keep her safe.”
*****
The fear expressed by Seb and Johan was well-founded. The new captain was finding it difficult to keep his men happy as they chafed from inactivity. With not a lot to do, the conversations continued to turn to how he had become the captain, and the talk was turning dangerous. He just kept sailing towards Laorgy as he hoped for something, anything, to break the monotony before the men mutinied. Then his first mate brought him some welcome news.
“Another vessel has been spotted, Captain. How would you like us to proceed?”
The captain knew that his men were hoping that he would give the order to attack the ship. He was spoiling for a fight as much as they were. All they had to show for this last voyage was that hellcat in the hold, and he was beginning to doubt they could get a good price for her. They needed some action, preferably with a big reward.
“What’s the ship?” he asked.
“Looks like a merchant,” was the answer. “Yellow circle on black.”
“Gather the men,” he said. “We attack!”
He stood there gripping the railing, feeling confident. The wind blew against him as his ship groaned and turned towards the approaching victim. A seagull cawed overhead, the men covering the deck shouted a battle cry, and he loaded his pistols and waited. The other ship didn’t even try to run. It had to have seen them coming, but it just sat there, as if it had already given up. He felt mildly disappointed. He and his men would have preferred a battle, but apparently an easy victory would have to do.
He ordered a warning cannon fired, and the ball flew to the side and sunk harmlessly into the ocean as intended. The other ship appeared deserted as they drew closer, but as they were within range to begin throwing grappling hooks, a man appeared up on the quarter deck and grinned at their ship that was proudly flying the skull and crossbones.
“Surrender now and you won’t be harmed!” the other captain shouted at him.