by Lora Thomas
Once dressed, she looked towards the door. “There must be another way out.” As she scanned the room, she realized there were no other entrances. Desperation began to sink in until she spotted a tiny window close to the ceiling between two of the shelves, causing hope to soar.
Kristina worked quickly, piling barrels and crates on top of each other. Once she had the makeshift tower high enough, she careful climbed the wobbly structure and opened the window. She peered out and looked down. The only person in the dark alley behind the tavern appeared in no shape to alarm anyone. She watched as the man took a drink from his bottle, staggered and fell into some old crates. He lay motionless. Kristina assumed the man had knocked himself unconscious. Leaning farther out the window, she attempted to get a better view down the alley when her booted foot hit the top barrel sending it bounding to the floor with a crash. Kristina cringed at the sound. Afraid the disgusting bar owner heard the commotion; she didn’t waste a second and quickly shoved herself out the window head first.
She landed with a thud on her shoulder and let out a curse as the pain shot through her arm. There was no time to worry about her injury. She glanced at the drunken man, who did not move. She quickly stood and raced down the alley. She darted between buildings, zigzagging in every direction for what seemed like eternity. When she was sure she was far enough away, she cautiously entered one of the taverns to hide. Easing her way around the wall, she found a dark hiding spot behind one of the support pillars. She let out a slow breath and began to relax.
Now, she had to find a way off this island. Her eyes scanned the smoke-filled tavern. Kristina wouldn’t be caught dead with most of the men in this establishment. She would have been safer with that ugly tavern owner she had just escaped from. There were several men at the table by the stairs playing cards. They were arguing. One stabbed his opponent. The overweight bartender yelled at the men. Several more sordid individuals joined the group by the stairs. In an instant, they were brawling. Kristina jumped out of the way as several fighting men rolled past her. The fighting men made their way out the door. Kristina watched the men fight for several more minutes before turning her gaze back to the patrons within the tavern.
“What’s yer pleasure?” she heard a woman purr behind her.
Her eyes grew wide. Oh, surely not?! The shock struck her full force as she felt the woman’s hand run along her shoulders. Surely she wasn’t being propositioned? Then Kristina remembered her attire as a boy. Gathering her nerve she lowered her voice and said, “Not interested, just looking for someone.”
The prostitute stepped in front of Kristina.
A disgruntled sound came from Kristina as she closed her eyes. This cannot be happening.
“Humph. Why ya don’t even have a whisker on your face,” the prostitute continued as she held Kristina’s chin between her thumb and index finger, examining her. “That would explain it. Your pecker probably ain’t even begun to get hard yet. Pity,” the prostitute continued and licked her thin lips. She leaned over and whispered in Kristina’s ear, “Well, when it does, I’ll be happy ta show you what ta do with it.” The young prostitute traced Kristina’s jaw and sashayed away.
Kristina clenched her jaw and just nodded as the woman walked away. “Ewww, yuck!” she whispered as she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
She quickly scanned the bar and took refuge at a small corner table. As she sat down, she wondered how she was going to get herself out of this mess. How was she going to get home and how would she avoid dealing with pirates ever again?
It was growing late when the weary men rode back into town from their jungle excursion to locate the bonnet. All were laughing except Max. He was angry. First, at Alex for tricking him because Samuel had actually came along, and secondly, at that damn monkey.
“Did you see Max’s face,” Smitty laughed, tears streaming down his old wrinkled cheeks. “The picture of Max a sleepin’ with that monkey sittin’ on his chest eatin’ that fruit.”
“The little creature just thought she found a nice place to eat her breakfast. But when Max woke up and noticed her enjoying her meal on his chest, he screamed like a little girl.” Alex laughed even louder, enjoying the levity of the situation.
“I haf neva seen him move sa fast in ma life,” said Slim, joining in.
Max stopped his horse and waited for the group to join him. His anger was boiling. He clenched his jaw. When the group caught up to him, he proceeded to punch the first one that came his way, which just happened to be Alex.
Alex fell from his horse but continued laughing as he landed on his backside. He rubbed his jaw. The punch had been worth it. He had never laughed so hard in his life. He continued looking at Max, but his laughter did not cease.
Max glared at his friend. He loved a good laugh as well as anyone but not at his expense. “If you think that damn little rodent was so cute, how bout I go back and swap it out for that stupid-assed hat!”
Alex sobered momentarily. “Now, Max,” a smirk appearing in his blue eyes as he remembered his friend’s reaction to the creature, “Don’t be going about giving your new girlfriend away to my mother.” A deep roar of laughter came from Alex’s chest.
“Alright! That’s it!” Max yelled as he dove off of his horse towards the captain.
Slim, Smitty, and Samuel watched with fearful curiosity as Max took his frustration out on the captain. Even after Max had thoroughly trounced the captain, and good, Alex did not stop laughing. Max turned towards him again, the wrath in his eyes letting Alex know that he was about to be in excruciating pain.
“Alright, alright,” Alex said has he held up his hands, humor still evident in his eyes, “I give.”
“I hope that stupid-assed hat is smashed and your mother boxes your ears, Alex. Or better yet, I hope she has arranged a marriage to you to some redheaded she-devil.” Max growled, knowing Alex did not care for redheaded women. His friend found them too independent to suite his needs. Max glared at the men, still not enjoying being the butt of their joke. “I need a drink,” he said as he stormed off.
“And a human woman!” Alex shouted at his friend, the laughter returning.
Kristina heard the commotion at the front door and watched as one of the largest men she had ever seen in her life stormed in. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized he was not only the largest, but also the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall, lean and muscular. He had a short beard covering his strong jaw line. His black hair was tussled as if it hadn’t been combed for several days. She watched him as he crossed the tavern. Then it hit her—this was going to be the man who helped her. Then another thought crossed her mind—no, this was the man she was going to marry. Her mother prophesied that she would marry a dark-haired devil and now she was looking at him. Her heart sank as she watched him.
Unaware of what was happening, Max walked straight into the tavern and grabbed the first wench he saw, which just happened to be Beverly. She started to protest at the rough way he grabbed her, but stopped when she noticed his expression. A catlike smile crossed her face as she realized she would get paid extra from this man tonight. Whenever Max was in this mood you didn’t question, you didn’t speak, you just let him vent in his own special way, which was usually very rough, almost animalistic, but it was worth every shilling. Beverly was still smiling as Max dragged her up the stairs.
Kristina sat at that corner table for what seemed like hours, waiting for her salvation to come back down. She had no money to even by herself a drink or food. She kept swiping tankers of ale and rum from other tables and placing them on hers to keep from drawing suspicion to herself.
She had started to give up when she spied him coming down the stairs alone. He walked to a table in the opposite corner of the tavern, sat down, and ordered a drink. He was joined by another man whom she saw enter earlier while he was upstairs with that horrid woman. His companion had gone in the same direction of the stairs, but wasn’t gone as long. Kristina studied the men at th
e table. The blond-haired fellow was gorgeous. He was the same size and build as the other man, but the black-haired man made her heart skip every time she looked at him. His confidence was overpowering and there was an air of danger about him that intrigued her even more.
Kristina stood up and slowly made her way to the window beside them. She looked out and pretended to be watching for someone. Her ruse worked. They glanced her way before continuing with their conversation. Kristina could hardly make out what they were saying. She would occasionally hear something about a monkey, a laugh, a curse word, but not much else.
Kristina watched as the black-haired man nodded to his companion, tossed a few coins onto the table and walked out the door. She quickly followed him, hiding in the shadows as they walked toward the docks. He would stop and turn around in her direction but kept on going. He walked to a large ship and proceeded up the plank.
“Feelin’ better?” Smitty questioned Max as he boarded the ship.
“No thanks to you,” Max snapped as he walked past the old pirate. Smitty came with the ship, so-to-speak. The Abyss had been his home for more years than he cared to remember, so when Alex acquired her, he swore his loyalty to him.
Max stopped and turned as he scanned the docks below.
“What’s up, Mr. Hart?” Smitty asked as he watched Max survey the docks.
“I think I’m being followed.”
The gunner gave a short chuckle. “Well, whoever that son-of-a-bitch is would be in a big surprise if he tried ta steal from you.” Smitty noticed the disgruntled look on Max’s face. “Probably some new pup who doesn’t know yer reputation.”
“Probably so. Good night, Smitty,” Max said as he walked to the stairs that led to his quarters.
“Night,” Smitty replied back. The sea-weathered pirate turned and surveyed the docks below. Scratching his white beard, he scanned the pier. He spied a small figure illuminated by the faint light of the lanterns on the dock. He watched as the figure made its way to the walkway leading up to The Abyss. He stared in disbelief as the figure proceeded to ascend the plank. Before the figure made it to the top, it was stopped by Smitty’s sword to its neck.
“Turn around real slow like and take yerself right back down that there plank,” Smitty warned the figure.
Kristina’s heart sank. So much for sneaking aboard. She felt the blade on her neck and quickly replied, “Aww, Fernando … it’s just me,” in an attempt to appear lost.
“Don’t know anyone by that name. So jest turn yerself around and go back down that ther—Are you drunk?” Smitty questioned as the smell of bad rum and mold drifted towards him.
The foul odor coming from her clothing gave her the out she needed before the old man slit her throat.
“Awww, bugger, must have come to the wrong ship,” she slurred as she turned around and stumbled down the plank in an attempt to appear intoxicated, which wasn’t hard since she was having trouble keeping her balance on the swaying plank. She walked down the pier several feet, pretended to stumble and slipped into the shadows. Once she thought she was out of sight, she dove behind some crates.
“Now what?” she asked herself. Propping her back up against one of the crates, she wrapped the oversized coat tightly around her. She drifted off to sleep trying to come up with a plan to board the handsome man’s ship.
Chapter Five
The sounds of the bustling wharf awoke Kristina the next morning. The sun was just beginning to rise over the harbor. A faint call of a distant seagull could be heard. She stretched slowly. Something touched her head. Kristina shifted her position. Again her head was lightly touched. She sleepily slapped at the object. A loud squawk rung in her ears. She shot upward and watched the seagull fly away. As her hat fell off her head, she suddenly realized where she was. She quickly grabbed the oversized hat and twisted her braided hair inside it. She sat up and looked around. The merchants were bringing in small carts of supplies to load onto the awaiting ships. Many were getting ready to sail with the morning tide. She peaked over the crates towards the ship she knew the man, who was her salvation, was on.
Kristina’s heart soared as she saw that supplies were being carted into the hull. “Finally!” she whispered to herself. There were multitudes of workers helping load the large black ship. She cautiously made her way to the supplies being loaded and picked up a small crate. She strained under the weight, but proceeded to the quay to take the crate into the hull.
“Put dat crate ova dare,” the tall black man barked at Kristina as he motioned to a corner by the stairs. Kristina nodded her understanding and walked to the location indicated. She carefully set the crate down, looked nervously around and quickly darted up the stairs, unnoticed.
As she crept through the ship, a thought occurred to Kristina—what if this is a pirate ship? Nonsense. Pirates aren’t as handsome as the two men at that tavern last night. Besides, he didn’t have an earring and pirates wear earrings … right? Right! she smugly assured herself. She cautiously made her way to a corridor by the galley. There were several doors; thinking that one might be for storage, she tried to open them.
“Locked,” she whispered. She attempted to open three more doors. She was about to give up when she heard footsteps coming from behind her. Panic set in. She quickly raced to the fourth door, expecting to find it locked. Elation ran through her as she found it wasn’t. She quickly darted in and closed the door.
Pressing her back against the door, she held her breath. She listened for several minutes for approaching footsteps. When she realized no one was coming, she closed her eyes and let out a relieved sigh. Kristina glanced around her hiding spot. There was an unmade bed against the far wall, a small chest of drawers with a mirror mounted to the wall over it and a small washbasin sitting on top. To the left of her was a round table with an oil lamp still burning. Beside the table was a large chair along with a half empty bottle of spirits.
She looked at the bed again. Its alluring softness called to her like a siren’s song. Her restless night’s sleep hadn’t refreshed her. With the supplies being loaded and the ship preparing to sail, it would be hours before anyone returned to their chambers. A nap would be nice. It had been weeks since she had lain down in a bed. The debate over whether or not to enjoy the comfort of the bed battled in her mind. For several minutes she worried on her lower lip. She quickly talked herself into the nap.
As she started towards the bed, her body moved, but her head was jerked back towards the door. She sucked in her breath with fear before she realized that her long braid had fallen out of her hat and had become snared by a hook on the back of the door. It took her several minutes, but she eventually released her hair by unbraiding it, her long raven locks now hanging down to the center of her back. Once free, she proceeded towards the unmade bed, with quilts piled high in the center. She lay down on her left side and snuggled down into the bed. She lay there for a few seconds and tossed to her right side. Then turned onto her back. It was no use, the oversized jacket and too tight clothing made her uncomfortable. She tossed the jacket on the floor, which still didn’t help. She stood up and looked down at her clothing. Should she dare? No, she could not remove her clothing, but her body was desperately craving sleep.
She walked to the dresser and opened one of the wide drawers. The top drawer was filled with small knick-knacks and trinkets of different sizes and metals: a pair of dice, a couple of small daggers, several small tin soldiers as well as an old toy boat. She closed that drawer and opened the second. Upon examination of its contents, she found a clean red linen shirt. She took out the article of clothing, closed the drawer back and laid the shirt on the arm of the chair. She sat down in the same chair and removed her boots and tight pants. She stood and attempted to pull the overly tight shirt off but to no avail. Facing the mirror, she looked at her reflection. Her breasts weren’t large by any standards; however, the overly tight shirt made her look well endowed.
She walked over to the dresser and pulled out one of t
he daggers and cut the hem of the dingy shirt. Once the material was damaged, it ripped easily. She quickly ripped the shirt off her body. When it was removed, it felt like a weight had been lifted from Kristina’s chest as she took a deep unrestricted breath. She hadn’t realized how hard it was to breathe in the overly tight garment. She quickly donned the borrowed shirt and found that it reached down past her knees.
“This will have to do,” she said as she tied the laces as tight as she could get them.
She tiptoed to the bed and snuggled back down. The bed was so soft and warm. As she snuggled deeper into it, the faint scent of the prior occupant drifted to her senses. It was a clean, leathery scent, almost erotic. Anxiety entered her. What would happen if the occupant returned?
“Stop worrying, you ninny,” she scolded herself. “It will be hours before whoever lives here returns.”
As she lay in the bed, she began to calm down and get drowsy. A plan formulated in her mind. After her nap, she would sneak into the cargo hold and hide until they were well out to sea and then find the handsome man she followed. Surely, he must be the captain. A dreamy expression crossed her face. The man was the captain of this ship and she was going to marry him. She peacefully drifted off to sleep with her fantasy running through her mind.
Max barked orders at the crewmembers aboard The Abyss while Alex finished settling their bill with the magistrate. The orders came easily for Max. He had lived at sea since his mother died eighteen years ago. Sybil passed when he was fourteen and left him few options. Granted, Alex had offered him a place to stay, but he knew Alex’s father did not approve of him and wouldn’t agree. Max had lost count of the times Jonathan had forbid Alex to socialize with him. Alex’s mother would have taken him with open arms as a project, but she would not defy her husband’s wishes. However, she always liked Max and went behind her husband’s back to educate him on the proper ways “good” people behaved at every opportunity. While Jonathan was at his store, she would have Alex bring Max to their home. She taught him how to read and write, how to add and subtract, along with the proper etiquette of the wealthy. She occasionally purchased him clothing so he would be properly attired, although Alex’s father was unaware. Whenever Alex’s father was away on business, she would insist that Max come stay with them. He enjoyed the times at Alex’s house, but knew he was an outsider.