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The scream pierced the air and caused Cicely to open her eyes with a start. There was little point looking around however: the darkness behind her eyelids was merely replaced with further gloom.

Cicely blinked…

…her head felt fuzzy, as if she had slept for a week…she could sleep more…

…and felt around her. Whatever it was she was lying on felt cold and lifeless, as if it had spent a thousand years in…whatever place this was…

She felt her heart pounding in her ears as she waited for, well – anything that might either accompany the scream which had awoken her, or give shed light on what – or to whom – it had belonged…

…shed light…

…the ground was hard beneath her…the cold something…not her hammock…

Cicely swallowed a couple of times painfully – her mouth was dry; her lips cracked. She felt sick, like a lubber would at the first toe on plank…her stomach rumbled, but the last thing she wanted was food…

…as several…men…soldiers…riflemen –

– Cicely reached up to her head and rubbed it. The cause of her vagueness originated both in absence of ready information to discern her whereabouts and her inability to think as clearly as she might…

…riflemen…

...Cicely exhaled, then inhaled the stale air around her …and throughout her body an ache, as if she had worked her body hard and it was finally thanking her for rest. She forced her mind to focus on what she knew…on what she remembered…on her last memories…

…then closed her eyes again which, of course, made no difference to the level of luminosity in her environs.

She had boarded the Thorn with the men…with the regiment – of that she was sure. Cicely remembered clearly the feeling of elation and pride as she stepped aboard a Royal Naval ship again, a sloop akin to "Surprise"…

…the familiarity of the ropes under her fingers as she and Matthew Harris were put to work within moments of their prior experience being relayed to the Thorn's captain –

– she wasn't in her hammock, of that she was certain: was she still aboard the Thorn? She had to be in the hold for her not to be able to see any light; none chinked through what might be deck planks above. If she were there, that would explain why there was pungent smell of seaweed...but then…see the light chinking between deck planks above…feel the undulation of the hull on the briny –

– another scream, trailing off to a groan. This time Cicely sat up, knocking her head on something hard above her. She lay back down, her head racing as she processed the lone stimulus.

…it didn't seem too close, somewhat muffled and indistinct but what was plain was that the utterer was in pain…

…not aboard a ship, Cicely concluded. The scream had echoed crisply. Had they been aboard a ship it would have been muffled, as if the edges had been absorbed by the timber. She fought to piece together events – anything that made sense and would help her deduce her whereabouts…

…and her whenabouts: she knew even less about those…

Blocking the scream and any associated consequences from her mind Cicely fought to concentrate. Major Blunt had boarded the Thorn with his men on the 3rd September. She was certain of the date for Fletcher had recounted that it was on that such day that a battle in the English Civil War had been fought, and won by the Parliamentarians. Cicely remembered because she was most certain that the Royal Navy would never spend its time remembering battle anniversaries. She also remembered because Blunt had issued a ration of grog to his men once they had boarded, an arrangement clearly made with the Thorn's captain in advance.

Prior to its distribution Cicely and Harris had been split from the regiment, briefed n their roles by a tall, thin midshipman and given seaman's garb to don in exchange for their green regimental uniforms. She remembered being grateful for the minutes they had had in the lower decks, after they had been shown their hammocks, that she could derobe swiftly and discreetly and feeling a kind of peace in half-britches and loose blouson.

The incumbent salts aboard the Thorn had welcomed them as kin – it was what all sailors did: all were brothers…family...separated by mere ocean and wooden craft. They respected their captain too, a devotion that told Cicely they had been the Captain's men for a long time. Captain Short was a not like Jack however: he was much less forward thinking. Jack knew that the care of the working sailor's body and mind made for good working conditions for the ship. Often this Captain would punish his sailors more than strictly necessary and the care and maintenance of the vessel itself appeared to be always behind, carried out only when the need was dire and the resources scant.

Cicely swallowed again, her mouth still dry and she turned her attention to the here and now. Still black before her eyes, and still silent. For now. She waited: how many more tortured screams were to come in this place that was not the Thorn? If it turned out that she was confined would they be hers very soon?

Exhausted through the effort of thought Cicely allowed the cloudiness of her mind that she had forced to one side in pursuit of clarity to diffuse back across her consciousness. Closing her eyes she felt hr body relax. With more sleep, then at least she would be able to be…be more…

…she remembered standing on the forecastle deck and looking out behind the Thorn…they had skirted the Needles and were on their way to…to…

…she had seen "Surprise": she knew it…Cicely had recognised her immediately from her sheet configuration and the pattern of her bearing in the water…

…perhaps it had been accompanying them…perhaps she could get aboard…have got aboard…

…have got…somehow…

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A/N: Yes, of course, the Royal N wouldn't lower itself to remember battle anniversaries…especially anything which might happened on 21st October.