Marieke turned in her sleep, unable to stamp out the nauseous feeling growing like mold in the pit of her stomach. It clawed at her throat, unsatisfied, wanting more. Briefly, the pain brought her mind to the surface of a sea of dreams where she floated, floundered, and then fell back into their murky depths. Biting back her moans, Marieke inwardly turned to the dream once more.
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A lone ship huddled on the pale horizon, faster than the approaching dawn but just as silent. In all its grace, the only one to witness the arrival was a withered and bent lamp-lighter on thin stilts. Glancing down every now and than at the cobblestones beneath him so as to avoid slipping in the uneven grooves, the old man squinted through the night but could not distinguish one shadow from another.
A chill burst of wind snuck up on the lamp-lighter, tugging insistently at the threadbare coat hung loosely about him, urging the man onward. With a sigh-turned-cough, he turned back to his work and reached in to snuff the flame. The withered man shut the lamp box and turned to resume gazing at the mystery ship.
However, the ship was now gone.
The old man shook his head and clutched at the thin coat on him. Perhaps he had imagined the whole thing. Yes, that was it. Chuckling with a little worried smile on his face, the lamp-lighter sighed and hobbled on.
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The fickle wind, up to its usual tricks, nipped playfully at the figure cloaked in shadow standing possessively at the ship's bow. The man shifted his weight, eyeing the coast for a safe harbor. "Safe" here meaning no questions asked and no prying eyes.
A similar though slightly rotund shadow appeared beside him with a faint whisper. "Captain?"
The taller one turned to greet his companion and Bo 'sun. "Yes, Mister Lam?"
Lam paused, scratching the back of one hand nervously. He looked about, as if someone were watching. "I don't like this, James. Not one bit. It cannot end well for you-!" His voice rose to a desperate, pleading whine.
The Captain chuckled, enjoying his friend's comical unease. Throughout their friendship Lam was the voice of caution while James threw that caution to the wind. Looking back, it was almost heartlessly that James ignored good reason and his good friend for the sake of reckless and often dangerous fun. In fact, taking a step back now, James could see the beginnings of a good nervous sweat trickling down poor Lam's face which was already taught with fear.
James chuckled. "There's no need to worry. We'll just swoop in, and swoop out-"
"You're not a bloody bird! For crying out loud, James-!"
"-we'll be back before you know it, and-"
"You'll get caught and you'll bloody well be sorry for it."
"I'll write the ransom, we'll have her back to port in less than a week," James finished, smiling still. Lam huffed, crossing his arms over his round tummy.
"I won't rescue you," he pouted. James laughed aloud, a hearty laugh, letting he wind seize his hair when he threw back his head.
"When have I ever needed rescuing?"
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Marieke woke, gradually. The sea of dreams released her at last, leaving her drenched in sweat with a salty trail of tears down one cheek. Marieke wiped at the tears, impatient with her own weakness to a silly dream. Even now, she could not remember what it was about, but that was no consolation now. Marieke saw in her mind's eye random images flashing wildly, incomprehensible on their own and only serving to confuse her more.
Marieke lazily stood up, covering her yawning mouth with the edge of a bathrobe, and stumbled to the window. Westminster Tower glowed a dull yellow against the light blue sky, already pale with morning, while just feet away lay the coastline. It read 4:00. Marieke groaned and let her forehead rest against the cool window pane while watching the harbor ships bob up and down to the ocean's churning.
Marieke's eyes flew open, and she had to brace her hands against the window to keep from falling. She did not scream or run away, but instead watched in terrified amazement as the creepers hanging on an oak outside began to move. The shadows lengthened suddenly, grew taller, and took form. They became men, angry and frightening, with hunched shoulders against the now biting wind but steadily approaching. Like a child who cannot tear his eyes from a dead thing for disgusted curiosity, Marieke saw and was afraid. The shadows crept forward haltingly, jumping here and there to meld with other shadows and disappear, then split to come forward again. Marieke stepped away from the window so as not to be seen, praying that they would pass quickly.
Whomever she prayed to did not care to listen that night.
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Minutes passed as Marieke waited, 'til she grew impatient again with her fears and stepped toward the window/doors. She saw
nothing. The sun was just on the horizon, that glorious moment where earth and sky meet again only to part second later, and it flooded her bedroom with pure light. Marieke shielded her eyes from the radiance and flung open the doors to a veranda. Again, she saw nothing. Marieke smiled, confused, but relieved even so. Turning to her bed, her thoughts turned to another day of suitors and fancy clothes. Her shadow on the floor danced with Marieke and she admired its shape as she walked back to bed, then frowned, and stood still.
The shadow lengthened, and grew as she stood there, 'til it felt foreign and was no longer her own, but another's. Stunned, Marieke shook, suddenly remembering those frightening dreams as the shadows squirmed and separated. Two shadows, one shaking in terror the other very scary and very tall, stood beside each other. Marieke opened her mouth to scream, but was stifled. Hands encircled her, binding her, forcing her to the floor in the struggle. Marieke was flung over a man's shoulder to hang there as he began the descent from her balcony. Not a word was spoken.
Marieke fell from the man's shoulder as they reached the street. Stumbling briefly as she stood, Marieke ran from him, tugging at the dry cloth in her mouth though her hands were bound and almost useless. She managed to scream once before her captor seized her from behind and swept the girl off her feet. The man ran with his fellow kidnappers as he stuffed a sweaty bandanna into her mouth, allowing the wind to catch his hair. Marieke spit the now slimy wad from her mouth into the street and screamed again to anyone who would hear. Looking ahead, she saw the docks nearing and screamed louder. Her captor slung her over one shoulder again to allow him a free hand as the kidnappers clambered into a boat tethered to the pier. One of the three rose from their seat to shove off from the pier, and Marieke could only watch as the familiar land slipped away.
Marieke, too full of confusion, hurt, indignation, and fear, overflowed with emotions and began to cry.
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James boarded the ship with his prize. His crew stood awkwardly clumped in little groups of three our four nervously pacing or arguing. Some men smiled faintly at the sight of their captain's return, others scowled or simply turned away.
The Bo' sun approached him, eyeing the girl in his arms warily. "Captain…"
James chuckled, anxious to get the child in a cabin, silent and out of sight. "What has happened here?" he shifter the girl's weight.
Lam stuttered for a moment before regaining his composure. "The men are uneasy James!" he whispered urgently. "You heard me before and I'll say it again: this cannot end well for you!" James sighed in reply and laughed aloud to mask impatience. Lam continued, undaunted. "No! You hear me out, James! I know what this means to you- this is big. Big money, here, on the line. But need I remind you that so is your life? Our lives?"
James sobered and stared grimly down at the little man. The girl in his arms twisted slightly, still blubbering into his already very dirty shirt.
"Very well. I'll meet with the crew myself, if need be, but first let me put her away and draw up the ransom not for the family."
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James stretched the thick parchment before him while dipping a long quill in the inkwell. The ink, green as a new cabin boy at sea or emeralds in the sunlight, dripped lazily over the inkwell lip as he scraped off excess ink. Sitting down, he began to write.
"From the Captain Jameson Tynell of Kent under His Majesty, The King
To the Lord and Lady Wigner of Blyth,
The young Lady Wigner is currently safe within our care. . ."
