Unceremoniously dismissed, Ami drew a deep breath and held it for a moment. Her features twisted into an angry pout, she considered what she should do next. She would have liked to tell the man before her what she thought of their policy but decided against it. The sun would set soon, and she had three more ships to investigate before the hour grew too late.
Strolling down the dock, in the direction that she had come, she hoped that she appeared calm. Ready to pay her fare and be boarded, she would secure her escape before anyone discovered she had gone. It would all depend on if Rupert kept his word and if no one else showed up at her parents’ home snooping. Either way, she had no time to wait for a proper passenger vessel, or luxury liner as the first mate had put it.
However, luck was not with her, and her lip stuck out in a full pout as the last light disappeared and she had been turned down by all four of the vessels, even the one that had been her last option. Damn, she sighed to herself. Dejected, she made her way up the hill and dropped her bag before she sat once more beneath her tree, where she watched the men work into the night.
Leaning her head back against the bark, she clutched her small pack across her lap. Not prepared to give up, she considered how she might sneak aboard one of the ships unseen. “It won’t be easy,” she muttered to herself, noting that most of the crews appeared to be headed into town, and likely the pub, while a few of the sailors, including the rugged first mate, remained behind.
Her mother had always said that patience was a virtue, and the young blonde found hers being tested as the air rolling off the ocean grew cooler after the sun set. Holding her skirt around her bare legs and feet, the material of it no longer felt fine; it felt inadequate, but at the moment it would have to do.
Below her, a few torches burned on board the ships, and the sound of the town called softly over her shoulder. In between, darkness settled over the water, and the planks of the pier dwindled into flat, empty calm.
Deciding that it was time to take her chances, Ami flung the pack over her shoulder and padded gently down the path once more. Keeping her pace slow to quiet her steps, she reached the hardness of the wood without so much as a hint of another person about. Spurred on by her success, she slunk down the section of timbers to the left, towards the Sea Serpent, the first boat she had tried to board. With the soft sound of water lapping gently at the support poles and the hulls of the ships, her heart pounded within her chest.
Reaching her target, she hesitated for a moment to listen to the sound of the night. Mid-summer, the day had been long, and the small community flourished in the warm days. Glancing up at the ridge, she could see the soft glow that meant the lamps were still lit in the streets, but soon they would be put out, and the crew of the massive vessel would return.
Slowly working her way across the narrow gangway, Ami knew she needed to be in a hiding place before that happened. Arriving at the deck, she quickly identified the hold she had picked out from her seat under the tree and easily climbed down into the pitch black of the deck below.
Pausing, her eyes adjusted to the deeper darkness, and she made her way around the stacks of boxes and crates. Bags of milled grain piled in the far-left corner appeared inviting, and she restacked them, leaving a narrow space between them and the wall. Slipping into her hiding place, she realized she had forgotten something: a blanket.
Riding in the bottom of a ship would be a cold prospect indeed, and her mind raced as she considered how she might obtain one before the crew returned. Deciding to investigate a few of the crates for anything that could serve as bedding before they did, she left her pack in her new residence. Cautiously, she made her way around, weaving in and out of the narrow walkways and trying the lids.
It was then that she discovered the crates were near impossible to open and she would need a tool to do so. Not ready to give up, she continued, only able to peek inside a few in the dim light. However, when she arrived back at the front, her eyes landed on a narrow metal bar hanging at the bottom of the stairs. Immediately, she knew that its purpose was exactly that: opening the boxes.
Snatching it hurriedly, she took on the storage bins with renewed fervor. Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, she discovered a pack of hides, presumably from the tanner, and none too soon as she had heard voices in the air above her.
Selecting one off the top, she closed the lid and returned the iron bar to the hook, then shuffled back to her pack and wiggled into her bunk, such as it was. Wrapping the stiff hide around her the best she could, she tried to ignore the rumbling in her gut as she drifted off to sleep.
Stowaway
Despite the leather blanket covering her, Amicia awoke with a freezing chill rattling her body. It took a moment in the near darkness to recognize her location, and she surmised they were no longer tied to the dock; her churning gut told her so. The roll of the ship gave her a violent fit of nausea, and she shot up out of her nest, hoping not to soil her hiding place with vomit.
Clawing her way in desperation, she stretched across the stack of mill. Her head hung on the other side when the contents of her stomach spewed out and splattered in small splotches on the dark wood. Fortunately, she had not eaten since the morning before, so the bile came up thick and sparse.
Once her spasms had subsided, Ami wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sank slowly into her hiding place. Placing her palm on her cheek, she thought she might be a tad feverish, but she couldn’t be sure with the coolness of the air around her.
Twisting onto her side, the bags of mill before her, she thought about Rupert and considered that he might have produced them, the idea of his providing her hiding place bringing a small smile to her pale lips. “He was such a kind friend,” she whispered to herself, taken with a moment of sadness in her semi-delirious state.
Closing her eyes, she thought about her choice to leave the only home she had ever known, second-guessing herself in her weakness. The yearning within her had waned, but she could still feel the pull of it, like a small child tugging at the hem of her skirt as she tried to ignore it. Rupert would have made a decent husband, she concluded for the second time in as many days. But is that all that I am?
Deciding emphatically that it was indeed not all that she was, she shook off the moment of pity. Listening to the sounds of the ship, it occurred to her that her choice to stow away had been ill considered, as she had no idea how many days they would be at sea, nor which direction the ship had sailed. She realized she needed to take charge of her situation, one way or another.
She had no real amount of food, and would soon be in need of other necessities. Add to that, she had never considered becoming ill on the journey. Frowning heavily, she hoped that a little sea-sickness would be the worst of it.
Wiping her spittle onto one of the cloth bags, she groaned. Dear God, make it stop! Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard in an effort to keep from polluting more of the hold.
After a few minutes, the urge had diminished, and she sat up straighter to look around once more. Maybe I need to eat, she theorized, remembering her pear and bread in her bag. Deciding to give them a try, she dug them out before nestling back down behind the wall of flour.
Above her, she could hear footfalls on the deck and briefly felt envious of those who could walk around and enjoy the warm sun. Glaring in the direction of the stairs, she considered if she should simply march up and present herself to the captain. Taking a small bite of the pear, she chewed it slowly while she entertained possible scenarios along those lines but couldn’t seem to decide on one with a pleasant outcome.
Finishing the fruit, she moved on to the firm loaf. Nibbling at it, she wished she had thought to bring more. But at least this would get her by for a day or two, and if their voyage lasted longer than that, she would have to risk more drastic measures.
While she enjoyed her meal, savoring each bite as if it could be her last, a loud pair of boots clomped down the stairs on the opposite end of the room. Scrunched down so that o
nly her eyes and the top of her head remained above the line of her make-shift wall, Ami watched as a large man in a sweat-stained shirt lifted the metal bar and opened a few of the crates.
His actions aroused her curiosity, as a simple inspection of the cargo seemed unlikely. To her surprise, he brought out food items, and she quickly deduced that he was the ship’s cook. He appeared to know exactly where each item that he wanted was stored, as he opened the boxes, removed a few items, and sealed them back, while collecting his gatherings into a dirty cloth bag.
Thankfully, all of the food containing crates appeared to be along the far wall, at the front of the hold. Therefore, he never came close to Ami’s hiding place, and she could observe him without being noticed. When he had enough, he returned the bar to its hook and stomped back up the stairs.
Her eyes bright, Amicia forgot all about her queasiness. Licking her lips eagerly, she considered if she dared to investigate the boxes by the light of day. Deciding it would be too risky, she finished the food she had brought with her in a slow pace, only then realizing that eating without water to drink had been a mistake.
Her gut churning, she felt as if she might vomit again, only this time coating the floor with masticated pear and bread, and the idea of it only made her sensation of salty saliva worse. Glaring at one of the casks that she had learned contained water, her thirst became unbearable, and she knew she had to take the risk.
Daring to venture out of her hiding place, she opened the barrel and eagerly used her hand to scoop up mouthfuls of the cool liquid, slurping it noisily in her haste. Pausing mid scoop, her eyes landed on a small, single, metal cup hanging by its crude handle on the wall above the barrels. Snatching it from the hook, she filled it and swallowed the lot in a few large gulps.
Downing a second, she drank more slowly, then wiped her mouth on her bare arm as she returned the mug to its place on the wall. Cutting her eyes over at the stairs and listening intently to the sounds above, she could feel a sense of calm settling over her as her satiated hunger comforted her.
Replacing the cover on the water, she used the bar to open a few of the food boxes for a proper snoop, since she was there. Her lips drawn into a small smile, she felt as if her fortunes had turned. Hastily, she gathered a small portion of cheese, a strip of dried meat, and another biscuit to serve as her dinner later on that evening. If I had a canister for water, this would be perfect, with all the food I could want, right here for the taking.
Dropping the items off in her sanctuary, she searched more boxes, hoping to find a pot, bowl, or cup of any kind. She needed one for the water and taking the cup off the wall would be plain silly. She also needed a second receptacle to use as a chamber pot, or personal toilet. Finding neither, she swore under her breath.
Frustrated, she skirted the crates one last time. She had checked all that she could access, so digging any further would be pointless. Deciding that the corner on the opposite side of her bedding would have to do, she scrunched down to relieve herself on the wooden planks.
Ami had heard tales of the living conditions on ships, and her sensitive nose had informed her that they had not been exaggerated. She knew that the men of the ship would use the head at the front of the vessel to handle their business, but that was one trip she wouldn’t dare attempt, even in the darkness of night.
She could only hope that none of them would notice the odor her markings would leave and that she would remain unseen until they put in at the next port. Then, she could exit quietly in search of a more accommodating vessel with a leisurely amount of time to do the choosing.
Back under her blanket a few minutes later, Amicia curled into a ball and managed to sleep. For how long she couldn’t be sure, but it occurred to her when she awoke that the crew didn’t come into the hold often, thankfully. She had begun to feel relaxed in the space, as if it belonged to her in a way, or did for as long as she remained undiscovered.
The cook made another appearance later in the day, and she ate her dinner after he had gone. Making another trip to the water barrel, then restocking her food supply for the next morning, she took her time to explore more of the options, finding some dried fruit pieces that would make a nice breakfast.
Ending her first full day on the ship in a pleasant mood, she made another stop in the corner. Then, taking one last look around, she felt ready to turn in for the night, as the light had faded, and she knew the sun had set.
Lying on the rough wood for her second night, she could feel the air getting colder. Deciding she needed a second of the sections of leather, she crept out of her hiding place and opened the crate. The squeak of the nails unnerved her, as the rest of the ship had become silent, and she knew that although darkness meant she had less chance of being interrupted, it also meant that her odds of being heard were greater.
Retrieving the section of hide, she closed the box and returned to her corner. Folding the new piece, she placed it over the planks to form a more cushioned and insulated resting place. Curling onto it once more, she placed her original over her, with her pack under her head, and drifted off to sleep.
Amicia could feel something was wrong. They had been at sea for ten days, and everything had settled into a monotonous routine of sorts, much like the first day she had been on board: cook, food, water, toilet, nap. Then the cycle would repeat in the evening, and she would sleep through the night. But not this night.
Above her, the boots stomped well into the darkness; the sun had set, but the men had not settled into their beds. The boards creaked, and torchlight filtered through the cracks. She could hear the voices, but not the words, and it frightened her to not know what had them in an uproar.
Her mind running away with her, she could imagine all sorts of perils, with pirates and sea monsters both high on the list.
Unable to bear the not knowing, Ami crept from her secret spot and moved towards the stairs. Placing her bare right foot on the first rung, she hesitated, holding her breath and listening. Then, summoning her courage, she placed the left on the next step and then the right again.
Panting, she fought to control the sound of her panic. Slow, step after step, she made it within three of the top when a clear voice could be made out. “I’m telling you, the cup’s been used. One of the barrels has been tapped, I tell you. If it ain’t one of the crew –”
Cut off, she didn’t hear the rest.
Her eyes wide, her brow furrowed in terror. Turning, she slithered back down the steps. Looking around wildly, she knew it would be minutes at most before they were in the hold searching for her.
Staring back to the left, into her corner, she could see the boxes that hid most of her stack of mill bags. They couldn’t pick her out immediately, but eventually, they would discover her haven.
Taking a few steps, her gaze floated over the myriad of crates that filled the hold. Could I hide inside one of those? Even if she could find one with enough room, she wouldn’t be able to open it, get in, close it, and return the bar to its hook.
She stamped her foot in disgust. Damn.
She needed to get to another part of the ship; that was all there was to it. If I can get out of the hold, maybe I have a chance.
Snatching the bar from the hook, she took it with her as she slipped down the row of food boxes. Finding one she could squeeze behind, she pushed her way in and scrunched down, still holding the piece of metal. I could use this like a club, if I have to fight them, she rationalized.
That wouldn’t work, they’re men and far stronger than you! she debated with herself. At least they’ll think I’m in a crate, she panted. While they’re searching, I can sneak out and try for the stairs.
The trap-door above opened with a bang as it dropped back against the deck. Her eyes wide, beads of perspiration formed on her brow as the herd of boots and bare feet thundered down the stairs in pairs. Their torches bright, the room instantly filled with dancing shadows as they spread out through the maze of cargo.
Her mind racing, A
mi thought about her hiding place; her blankets and her pack. My pack! She suddenly remembered her belongings. I have money, I could offer to buy my way aboard. Although, the idea of facing the first mate again did not please her.
She could see a pair of legs through the crack where she had squeezed in. Whoever he was, he appeared to be guarding the stairs. Damn! Her heart racing, she could only see this ending one way: as their prisoner. Deciding she had to at least try to escape, she crept out to the edge of the boxes and looked up.
Above her, a young man stood next to the beam that supported the hole above and stairs that connected it to the floor. Watching as the men scoured the room, he didn’t see her, if only for the moment. Gripping her metal bar with both hands, she prepared herself to attack him.
But what if I hurt him? Would they be any less angry if she killed one of them trying to escape?
“Looky what we have here,” a voice grunted as a hand seized her wrist and pulled her to her feet, then freed her of her weapon. She had been so focused on the cabin boy, she hadn’t seen the other man approach.
“Unhand me!” she squealed, fighting to pull her arm free.
Dropping the tool, the crewman struggled to find a second hold, only succeeding in tearing at her dress and exposing more of her flesh. His grip on her firm, he swung at her as she fought for her freedom, landing punches to her ribs and arms.
Screaming, Ami pulled the hand squeezing her arm up and sank her teeth into his dark flesh, shrieking when he pushed the appendage into the bite and forced her to stop. Pulling at her hair with his free hand, he yanked her head back and she stared at the ceiling as he studied her terrified expression.
Others had become aware of the scuffle, and one of them landed a solid blow to her face with a fist, knocking her to the floor in the open area where the stairs entered the vast room. Crawling on all fours, she inched towards the exit, but a line of boots formed, blocking her escape.
Dragon of Eriden - The Complete Collection Page 4