When I woke up, it was to a dull throb in the back of my skull, an ache on the right side of my face, the sound of howling wind, and my wrists bound behind my back. I kept my eyes clenched shut while I attempted to will away the pain in my head while also staying as still as possible. After a few moments, the throbbing died down to a bearable level and I wriggled my hands only to find that it wasn't rope that bound them, but iron cuffs.
At first, I couldn't remember what in the world had happened, but when I started to hear voices, the fog on my memory began clearing away.
"Yeh sure 'e'll fetch a good price on the auction block?"
"'Course he will. He's a young lad, fairly handsome. An' from what your boy said, he's a fairly good talker, too. Either some old, pent up biddy will buy him to be her toy for a few days or one o' the ship captains will buy him an' make him work off his debt."
'Ahh,' I thought, my nose scrunching up. 'That arse from earlier decided to go off and whine to his father, who, in turn, decided to hunt me down. If I see him again, I'm going to give him something to really complain about…'
"Did yeh at least search 'im before yeh threw 'im in irons?"
"Aye. The whelp didn't have much. The priciest thing on him was his sword. Pretty nice cutlass. I'm almost tempted t' keep it for meself instead of selling it."
My eyes shot open, though I didn't see very much—just the wood of the wall and the floor. Faint shadows were projected onto the wall, telling me that there wasn't much light in the area. Closing my eyes and rolling over onto my back, I felt new pain quickly growing in my arms, partially distracting me from the one in my head.
The voices continued talking and, when I partly opened one eye, I could see that the owners of the voices weren't within my sight. Crates stacked atop one another, barrels, and bags of something, however, were in my view, letting me know that it was probably safe for me move about.
I managed to push myself up into a sitting position; for a few seconds, the world swam before my eyes and the throbbing in my brain became almost unbearable for a few seconds. I clenched my eyes shut once more, silently cursing to myself.
When it died away, I opened my eyes again and could see the quavering silhouettes of two men sitting at a table on the wall across from me. Both looked to be bigger than me—and I knew that at least one of them was—but it was hard to tell if it was just an illusion of the shadows. What made me thankful, though, was that it seemed to be just those two men in the room with me.
'Not much chain on these shackles,' I thought, slowly stretching my arms out to gauge how long the chain was. 'I might be able to wiggle it beneath me, but it's going to hurt one way or another.'
When I started to lean backwards, I could feel parts of my spine popping—whether it was popping into or out of place was yet to be determined. I started to bring my arms forward, having to move them in a sort of sawing motion in order to get the chain under my arse. My nose scrunched up as my knuckles scraped against the wooden floor; I could feel the skin tearing on some of them.
"There we go," I breathed once I got the chain out from beneath me. A quick inspection of my knuckles showed that five of them were now bleeding; three on my left and four on my right. Ignoring them for now, I took hold of the chain and crawled forward.
Peeking around the edge of one of the crates, I saw the two men sitting at a table, a lantern between them as they played cards. Once in a while, the ship would shudder as a particularly strong gust of wind blew past, but they were left unbothered. Neither was looking in my direction, which was a bit fortuitous, as I'm sure I wasn't being the stealthiest of persons at the moment. But at the moment, my mind was fixed on two things: Getting my sword back and getting out of there.
Most people wouldn't put so much worry into retrieving a sword, especially when they were so easy to get in a place like Shipwreck City. But that sword was special to me, as it once belonged to my late uncle. He had taught me everything I knew about sailing and navigating (at least, everything I knew at that point in my life). He was also the one who suggested I wear dark trousers and told me that I would need to start binding my breasts down if I didn't want to be found out as a woman.
From where I was crouched, I could see the sword hanging on the wall by a door. It was still attached to my baldric, which was even better. What was not better was that the blokes were between me and my way out and I had no weapon.
The sensible thing to do would be to wait until the two fell asleep and sneak my way out, hoping to find the key to these blasted shackles along the way. A less sensible option would be trying to sneak my way around the two of them, grab my sword, and then run like hell the moment I opened the door. The most senseless idea would be trying to find something heavy enough that I could use to try to knock them both out.
I would like to say that, back then, I was too smart to consider option three even for more than a few seconds.
However, I was not.
Crawling away from the edge of the crate, I looked around the area with a more discerning eye. The lack of light made it hard to see anything aside from silhouettes, but as I carefully stood up, I could see atop the barrels and crates. Sadly, while they did have a few things atop them—some rags, an empty lantern, a tricorne, et cetera—there was nothing that could be of use to me. Well, except the hat. If I escaped out into the storm, it would help keep my head dry…but I didn't want to risk the chance of getting lice. I left it in place and turned away.
That's when I saw them: The handles of spades sticking out from one of the barrels. At least, I hoped they were handles to spades. They could have been shovels, brooms, or even just short, wooden poles for all I knew. In order to get close enough to get a good look at them, however, I had to crouch down so that my head wouldn't poke out and get seen from behind the shorter stack of crates. Peeking down into the barrel, I couldn't see much, so I cautious stuck my head down into it, my fingers following along one of the wooden shafts. I soon touched cool metal shaped into a rectangle.
"Thank gods," I whispered, grabbing one of the spades. I slowly lifted the tool from the barrel, tensing up every time the blade scraped against another blade. My captors, though, didn't hear the subtle sounds over the noises of the storm and their own conversation.
Breathing a sigh of relief once I got the spade out of the barrel, I then glanced over the top of the crates. The pair was still playing cards and drinking from their tankards.
'I'm about the same height as them,' I thought. 'I might actually be slightly taller than one of them. Hard to tell when they're sitting…' Getting a good grip on the handle, I let out an audible groan and, feigning having just woke up, grumbled out, "Ugh…feels like I fell off a topgallant…"
"Sounds like the whelp's woke up," one of the men grunted.
"Eh, ignore him. There's not much he can do other than blabber on."
"Where the hell am I?" I continued, making my voice sound more irritated. "Bloody hell, who's the cur who put me in shackles?!" To make it sound like I was starting to struggle against my bonds, I started to shake and pull at the chain while also kicking my foot against a crate, shifting it slightly.
One of the men groaned. "Ugh, 'e's a struggler…" I poked my head around the crate just in time to see the larger of the two men throw his cards down on the table and scoot his chair back. "I'm going t' shut 'im up with a kick t' the 'ead."
"I hear you, your louts! Let me go this instant!" Another kick to the crate.
"Don't kick him too hard—if he gets brain damage, he'll be worth less on the auction block."
"I won't, I won't…"
I continued to shake the shackles and kick at the crates while grunting as if I were truly struggling. All the while, I kept my eye on the man's shadow; as he got closer, it got smaller and smaller. Getting into position, I readied myself.
"Alright, whelp, time t' shut yeh up again," the man grumbled. He came around the corner while saying, "Don't worry. It'll only 'urt for a moment."
A dull, metallic 'thud' filled the air as I swung the spade with a good deal of force. The flat of the blade slammed into his face with enough strength that he stumbled sideways before crashing through one of the stacks of crates. He laid on the ground, unmoving, with blood beginning to trickle down from his lip.
Looking up, I saw the second man staring straight at me in shock. I smiled innocently before hopping over the first man and bolting for the door. But he recovered from his shock in time to shove the table forward into my path. With no time to change my path, I swore and fell forward onto the tabletop. Being that it was so small, I ended up flipping it over and landing on my back, the table atop me. The lantern and tankards had gone flying; thankfully, the lantern had no oil, so when it hit the ground, the candle merely went out.
My body ached from the fall, but I both pushed past the pain and shoved the table off of myself. A good thing I did, too, because it let me see the man drawing his sword. Some sort of noise left my throat and I raised the spade in time to block the oncoming blow with it. Two more blows I was also able to block, but it was tough, given my current whereabouts on the floor.
The second the man hesitated, I took my opportunity. Kicking my leg out, I swept his feet out from below him and he swore, landing hard on his back. I lunged forward and, using my knees to pin his arms to the floor, wrapped my hands around his throat. I had no intention of killing him—I just needed him to fall unconscious long enough for me to grab my sword and get out of there. He was making it hard, though, with his thrashing about and trying to knock me off of him.
Finally, his movements grew weaker and weaker. His limbs went limps and his eyes fell shut. Able to still feel his chest rising and fall below me, I held on for a few extra seconds just for good measure. Then, jumping to my feet, I pulled my baldric from the hook and threw open the door. To my luck, it led into a larger, emptier room. Maybe some sort of storefront? I couldn't tell, nor did I want to be able to tell.
While hurrying towards the door, I undid the buckle on the belt; I knew I couldn't put it on as is thanks to the shackles. Reaching the door, I shoved the bar out of its position just in time to hear cursing from the back room.
'Up already? A bit faster than I anticipated,' I thought, darting outside. It wasn't terribly dark thanks to the dozens of ship's lanterns that lit the passageway, but it was dark enough that I knew I had to be careful where I stepped. "Left or right, left or right, left or—"
"Get back here you mangey headed whelp!"
"Left!" Except, for some reason, I went right instead.
Buckling a baldric into place while running was hard enough, but having to also thread it between my arms while being unable to move them more than a foot and a half apart was damn near impossible. It certainly didn't help that I could hear my captor chasing after me, shouting obscenities and threatening to feed my guts to the sharks. Somehow, though, I managed to get my baldric into place.
'He's going to wake the whole city if he keeps that up,' I thought, seeing a crossroad coming up. I was just about to turn left when there was a loud boom from behind me and the lantern nearest to me shattered when a lead ball shot through it. Cursing aloud, I once more went right.
Ahead of me in this new passage, the decks opened up, revealing the stormy sky as well as a bunch of rigging billowing in the wind. I was surprised; this deck had a mast sticking out of it, complete with raised sails. From its position in the center of the ship, I could tell it was a mainmast, yet it stood short due to having the top third of it sawn away.
It also told me that I was in the lower sections of the northern stack; at least, I think I was. I remembered being able to see set sails in this general area from the docks.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my pursuer rounding the corner. He tried to take aim at me with his pistol, but before he could take the shot, I was scurrying up the ratlines.
"Get back here!" he shouted as I climbed.
"Sorry, mate, I don't want to die today," I called back. Thankfully, being in the rigging was practically second nature to me by that point. Though, it would have been a little less precarious had I not been wearing my boots. With bare feet, I could use my toes to help keep my balance atop the slippery wooden yardarms.
But right now, that didn't matter to me. What mattered was getting away from this man and his gun. Reaching the top of the first set of ratlines, I swore; the top was always the most precarious part of the mast, as you had to lean backwards—sometimes almost upside down—in order to climb over it. Doing such with bound wrists was both difficult and frightening, to say the least.
I conquered the task, however, and scrambled atop the—well, the top. Peeking over the edge, I found the man nearly halfway up; he pointed his gun at me and I hopped back just in time to avoid getting shot. Turning, I started to clamor out onto the yard; I wobbled quite a bit, as I was unable to stick my arms out for balance.
Though heights had never bothered me, when I looked down, I found myself feeling a bit nervous. There was a sheer, two-hundred-foot drop into the ocean below. Quite a bit higher than what I was used to seeing when up in the rigging.
"Ooh, this was a stupid idea," I muttered. I wasn't even at the end of the yard—I was barely halfway across!
The spar got jostled and I swore, struggling to keep my balance. Looking over my shoulder, I saw my pursuer. He had his arms thrown out, helping him keep balance; he still held his gun in his hand. Or maybe it was a spare, as he had already used up his shot? I didn't know. A careful turn and a quick glance down showed me that he had removed his boots. however.
'He must've been a topman at one point, too,' I thought with a frown.
"You ain't got anywhere t' go, whelp," he smirked, pointing his gun at me once he got his balance. "Now, you're goin' t' be a good lad an' come back with me. An' then, come the day after t'morrow, you'll fetch me an' Tim a pretty penny at the auction block."
"I'm afraid I don't much care for auctions!" I shouted over the wind. Of all times for there to not be any loose rigging ropes whipping about…"Never have, I'm afraid!" I carefully took a few steps to the side, peeking down once more. My heart was racing in my chest; it almost felt like it was going to burst out from my ribs.
"Too bad, whelp. It's either the auction block or death for ye," he shouted back. He pulled back the hammer on his pistol.
"I prefer option number three, myself!" I watched as a confused expression came to his face. "I'm going for a swim!" Before he could react, I turned and ran forward along the spar. Reaching the end, I sprung off it as if I were diving from the railing of a ship.
Above me, I could hear the man shouting, but what he was saying was lost to the wind. Not that I cared at the moment. I was more focused on praying to whatever gods that would hear me to not let me die.
Diving from just fifty feet up could be deadly enough—but two hundred feet?
Just when I thought I had been falling for too long, that I had actually jumped into an endless void, I felt my body suddenly become enveloped by the cool, angry waters of the ocean.
