Today, the whole island will celebrate because our ship is finally ready.
In the spring, there was a sea battle with pirates and the ship was awfully damaged. Not pirates from the Revenge, of course. Those pirates have an agreement of sorts with father so they don't bother us. But they don't defend us either, so we have to be prepared to defend ourselves. We've spent all summer and some of the fall, setting the ship to rights, hauling wood, hammering and nailing, all under father's directions.
I'm sure you've understood by now that father makes all the biggest decisions on the island. They have tried to make him prince. Father refused. "I'm sick to death of princes," he said. So they made him chief. Chief Westley.
Yesterday, Ophelia told me that she would not be able to come to the celebration.
"Why not?" I asked. "Your father worked as hard as any other man. It is your celebration too."
"By the time I finish my chores, it will be time for the celebration to begin."
Ophelia and her father manage the bakery so they are quite busy in the mornings.
"So? Lots of people come in at the last minute."
"Everybody will be there by then and I cannot go alone."
"Who said you have to go alone? I'll walk with you."
Ophelia paused. "I won't run," she said. "You'll be late because of me."
"What a tragedy."
Ophelia smiled. "Thanks, Ras," she said.
When I arrive at the bakery, she has just finished doing the dishes and is sweeping the floor.
"Have some raisin bread," she says to me. "You deserve it."
I am sitting down and enjoying the raisin bread when there is a knock on the door.
Ophelia stops sweeping and looks puzzled. I know she is wondering the same thing I am: Why would anyone knock on the door before entering?
"Come in?" Ophelia calls out.
The door opens. A man steps in the doorway. A sunburned man with large muscles and rough hands. I have never seen him before.
"Is this the bakery then?" the man asks.
Ophelia gasps when she hears the unfamiliar voice. "Y-yes," she says.
"I'd like some bread!"
"Right…right away," Ophelia answers.
"Hello," I say.
The man glances at me and grins. "Hello," he answers. "That raisin bread looks good."
"It is."
"Some raisin bread!"
He must be one of the sailors from the Revenge. Sometimes, they'll, drop their wounded or injured sailors off at our island and sail on. Only he doesn't look injured.
"How come you two are in here all alone?"
It is a strange question and my uneasiness grows. "Why are you all alone?" I parry.
The man laughs. "I like it," he says. "Though sometimes it gets lonely."
As Ophelia places the bread on the counter, the man grabs her hand. He holds it with one hand and strokes it with the other. "Yes, it can get very lonely," he says.
Ophelia is frozen. She doesn't move. If he tries to harm her… I need a weapon. I look around desperately. I don't know where the knives are and haven't got the time to look for them. There is a frying pan in plain sight.
The man makes a sudden movement and suddenly, he's got his arms around Ophelia. Ophelia screams. The man pulls out a coil of rope. I grab the frying pan and swing, hitting his shoulder. He cries out but doesn't let go of her. Instead he turns around to face me as he ties her hands behind her back. Ophelia screams again, crying now. I swing the frying pan at his head. He ducks. He swings his fist at me. I duck. I swing again and he grabs the frying pan and wrenches it from my hands.
"Ophelia, where are the knives?" I shout.
Swiftly, the man puts down the frying pan, pulls out a sharp dagger and holds in to Ophelia's neck, so she can feel it. "Yes, Ophelia," he says. "Where are the knives?"
Ophelia is silent. The man looks at me scornfully.
"Go home, boy. I left you alive and that's more than pirates usually do."
Pirates.
"If you need a slave, you don't want her," I say, desperately. "She's blind. Can't do anything. Can't work. She's useless."
The man hesitates. "Hmmm…" he says. "That's all right. We can find a place for a pretty little blind girl, eh? We like pretty little blind girls." He drapes Ophelia over his shoulder and leaves the bakery, chuckling.
I have to get help. Now. But I can't run for help, that'll take too long. Noise. I've got to make noise. I grab a pot and begin to bang it against all the other pots. I slam one pot against the other. I drop the pots on the floor. I bang on them with the frying pan. Please, somebody, hear. I run down the path to the beach. I hear Ophelia screaming. There are three men and they are pushing her into a boat.
If I can stall them…I rush at the sunburned man. He sees me and shoves me into the water. I try to stand up, he holds me down in the water with one hand and puts his other hand on the back of my head. "You are a nuisance. Shall I drown you?"
He pushes my face down until it's almost in the water.
"My father is a pirate too," I gasp. "And if you do me any injury, you will regret the day you were born!"
The man laughs. "A pirate, eh?"
He pushes me away roughly and I land on the scratchy sand, where the water is shallow. Choking, sputtering, I sit up. They are sailing into the ocean.
I couldn't stop them.