The guards still maintained their distance. One bath does not remove years of stink and filth. The sergeant addressed the prisoners loudly, "It is a three hour march to the docks. You lovelies need to be there before sun down. So let's go!" The guards escorted the stinking and ragged men at a safe distance behind, making certain nonetheless that these pathetic creatures left English soil by nightfall.
Patrick thought there was plenty of time to get there and was confused by the sergeant's haste. It was still morning after all. What Patrick did not consider was that the prisoners, from years of entropy of living in a cramped, hellish cell, were all too weak to walk that far. Patrick barely had any muscles left in his legs from years of inactivity. It just seemed he had only shin, knee, thighbone and skin. The other four suffered terribly as well and hobbled like cripples on the road. One of them even suffered from rickets from being in the dark so long. He winced in pain with each step, but he refused to let that stop him. Shamus leaned into Patrick's ear and whispered, "Look at dat one. I bet Sam Scurvy be a fine’ dancer, eh?"
The fifth man in the procession of skeletons was simply known as Jessup. He had been spared only one week in the cell. Jessup never spoke and no one knew anything about the stranger.
The guards and the prisoners both knew well that if the men looked too frail, the captain would send them back to the certain death of the prison cell. The prisoners knew this was their only chance for life. The sergeant of the guard mercifully did not push the men too hard either. He wanted to be rid of these prisoners as much as the prisoners wanted to go, so he walked the hobbling men ten minutes then rested them. The group repeated this rhythm of walk and wait for almost six hours before they finally arrived at the docks where sun hung low. Patrick had never seen a ship this big up close before. It seemed impossibly gigantic and he was completely taken aback by the sheer scale of the vessel. The salty air of the docks immediately stung his sore riddled flesh, the pain bringing him back to the here and now.
As ship standards went, it was actually a small vessel but Patrick knew nothing of ships and was impressed nonetheless. He had seen a few in his time but all he recently knew was the dark closeness of the dungeon he had been reprieved from. Many of his memories were lost in the deprivation.
This ship was a modified galleon and the name Robin was painted on the stern. It had ten guns on carriages but four of the guns were Quakers, or fake cannons. These were old or nonfunctioning guns placed to give the appearance that the vessel was more formidable than it actually was.
The Robin
Pirates of Savannah Trilogy: Book One, Sold in Savannah - Young Adult Action Adventure Historical Fiction Page 5