Chapter 25: Hereafter
"Astrid?"
I did not answer. My mind was still entirely under the impression that I was filthy and whorish, and I would not—could not—open my mouth and speak. For along with my stolen virtue, it appeared as though my own voice was robbed away from me, along with every other progress I had made.
My name was repeated in the dark, and still I did not budge. I even contemplated the worth of breathing. No man would want to marry a spoiled woman, whose heart and soul had been corrupted and defiled by the horrors and lusts of rich bastards. All my thoughts kept running back to what Griffith had done to me, the images renewed endlessly in my head, and I still wanted to cry and scream even after the assault was complete.
The voice in the gloom heightened with frustration and the vaguest insinuation of concern, and although I knew the apprehensions of my visitor would only elevate, I remained reticent. For if anything was going to come out of my mouth, it would be a shriek of anguish, and that would not answer any of the questions my visitor had in mind.
I heard the 'creak' of my cell gate opening, and again, the memory of Griffith sneaking in so slyly raced to my head and it instigated the scream I had kept lodged in my throat.
"Astrid!" There was the hastening of footsteps and everything that was happening was only processed in my head as a connection to Griffith's demented mission, and I cried all the louder.
More footsteps followed and the familiar fear crawled up my spine again and I edged towards the far side of my jail cell, huddled in a weeping ball.
"Why's it so dark?" I heard someone say.
"Light the lantern," ordered another.
"Where the hell is her marine?" a voice complained.
A dim glow suddenly appeared above my cot and I looked around frantically, meeting the faces of my brother, Bennett, Dobbin and Andre.
"Sister," said Roland, approaching me. I squealed and backed away farther, and he made his own retreat, his face grimacing with confusion.
I noticed the wide, fierce blue eyes of Bennett in the low light of the lantern and his jaw was tight and his eye looked to be on the verge of twitching. The stare he was giving even had me wonder if he was even looking at me. His mind seemed distant—already gone before I knew it.
"Astrid, what happened?" asked Dobbin. Both Roland and Andre looked at him, wondering the same thing but afraid to probe me any further for fear of me screaming again.
My eyes stayed on Bennett, and I knew he'd understand first. I just didn't know how he'd react to it.
"He did it," growled Bennett, clenching his fist. His eye finally made that twitch and he pushed through Roland, Dobbin and Andre as he stormed out of the cell gate.
"Who did?" wondered Andre.
"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!" shouted Bennett ferociously. I heard the ring of metal, and I buried my head in my arms as I imagined Bennett unsheathing his sword and raging up to the upper decks.
Roland was next to attain that wide and inevitably angry stare, and he turned to me, kneeling beside my cot with a look in his eyes that said, "He did not, sister. Oh God, he did. He did. That bastard!"
"Come, sister," he said tonelessly. "We need to get you to Cavanaugh. Now."
"Roland, no, please…" It was too late. He picked me up gently and carried me out of my cell, and I knew that he knew that such an action could earn him a great deal of punishment.
"Dob, go ahead and tell the captain what's happened. Newton, tell Cavanaugh to clear his surgeon's pit. We have an emergency."
The boys saluted their, "Aye, sir," and went their separate ways. I clung to Roland, sobbing, "Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry…" He might have not answered me for fear of making me shed more tears, but his demeanor told me that he understood and that he was hoping that Bennett would give Griffith his long awaited brutal beating.
But all I honestly wanted in that moment was to be with Jack, on his ship and sailing for the horizon. And despite such a wonderful dream, doubt had seated itself comfortably in my head, and while Roland told me to stay strong, I could only think and ask the Heavens, Why?
I didn't believe that they would send an answer, for they had ignored my please for years. And how was it that as soon as I became acquainted with the magnificent blue main, that Fate had the sick inclination to filch any treasured progress I had owned from me? What wrong had I done to deserve it all?
I became restless with the questions, sick from Griffith's touch, and tired of this journey, but my heart still withheld a constant beat, telling me that I was still alive for some odd reason, and I was still convinced that the reason was to find Jack, and so that dream gradually flickered with new light, however brief it was. I will find you, Jack. I will… and then I'll never leave…never.
As we moved up to the orlop deck, Roland barked out orders as harshly as Thorne would. "Move!" he'd shout at the sailors blocking his path to the surgeon's pit. The tired eyes of the sailors widened with surprise at my sight, and all I could do was stare at them dully, neither amazed nor afraid of the awe and concern on their faces.
From ahead, we saw Cavanaugh running towards us, his brow creased with concern. "What's happened?" he demanded, removing my burdensome weight from my brother's arms and carrying me to the operating table.
"She's been hurt," answered Roland simply, trailing right behind Cavanaugh.
"Hurt?" questioned Cavanaugh. "Has she been cut?"
"No," said Roland quietly, almost as a murmur. "She's been hurt. Well, something else of hers has been damaged. That's all I'll say." Brother found it difficult to speak about the subject because his fist had clenched and his face was growing red from either anger or embarrassment of having to talk about such a tender topic.
I noticed Cavanaugh stop moving for a second in response to Roland's basic description of what happened to me, and he seemed to take the time silent to decode what Roland had just said. And he wouldn't have been a very good doctor if he didn't get it, and so obviously, Cavanaugh knew exactly what Roland was talking about.
"I must check her, Mister Turner. It will not take long. But I ask that you put up this screen around the operating table, for I will not have all these other sailors watching what I do as I do not want Miss Sparrow to be violated any further."
Brother went and took the screen and assembled it around the area and Cavanaugh ordered him to keep watch should some stupid bloke barge in to take a peep.
"I'm so sorry, Miss," said Cavanaugh as he proceeded with my check up. I didn't say anything. Nothing at all.
When my inspection came to a close, Roland asked from outside the screen, "Is she all right? Is she really…?" He gulped and was never able to finish his question.
"Has the captain been informed about this, Mister Turner?"
"Yes, he has. Or should have. Mister Lester was in charge of it."
A jumble of heavy footsteps disrupted the quiet atmosphere of the orlop deck and Thorne entered, blood in his eye and looking as if he was about ready to kill somebody. And if he had not been trained to contain his ire, I would have not been surprised if he lashed out and murdered the first helpless soul in sight.
"Where's the surgeon?" he bellowed. He was given his answer by one of the sailors and the deep thuds of his boots neared, and Roland parted the screen and went to get me, but Thorne had seen him do it.
"Get her out of here!" he ordered, and Roland gratefully picked me back up and backed away from Thorne.
More footsteps followed and a fairly large mass of men had come down to the orlop deck, flowing in the direction of the surgeon's pit.
"What seems to be the problem, Lieutenant Thorne?" asked Cavanaugh coolly, not liking the disruption very well. He wiped his spectacles with the ends of his shirt before placing them back on his nose and eyeing the white-wigged man with a fierce glower.
"A fight. Broke out between two stupid mids. One's nose is bleeding and the other has a bad eye. Neither of them was good enough to gut the other with a sword."
A whisper escaped me at the news. Bennett…
Thorne's eyes locked on Roland and me. "I told you to get her out! Put her back in the brig!"
Roland's hold on me had become so tight that his fingernails dug into my skin and I was afraid that he'd drop me and lunge towards Thorne himself. But he didn't. His grip gradually relaxed and he left, carrying me back to the brig where Sergeant Vaughn had miraculously returned and was waiting for me.
Sleep had become impractical and worthless, for in allowing myself to surrender to the perpetual harmony of beguiling slumber, I would not only be leaving myself susceptible to more marring defilement, but I would also be allowing my mind to be disturbed by hellish, ominous nightmares. And to tell the truth, as much as I professed to be capable of unwavering courage, I forbade myself to confront such fears. To suffer with them would have been the honorable thing to do. But I had lost any honor I had had, which was little to begin with, and I had accepted the fact that slumber was no longer a comfort of mine.
As much as we despised each other, Vaughn never left his post, which was significantly closer to my cell than before, and I never bothered him with irksome whining and tears. He did not do it out of sympathy; I knew that. I believed he appeared to be more careful because he blamed himself partly for my deflowering, but more so because a recorded rape in a ship's book put a bad mark on her men, which would mean another smack of pride for the cocky bunch of the crew, with Vaughn as no exception.
Speaking would have been superfluous, and so I remained mute as the hours passed, left without a clue as to what was happening in the decks above and left to ponder the progression of my trial—a trial that had already begun and would probably end without a word from my mouth. My word was considered false.
The only way in which I was able to keep track of time was through the distant bongs of the bells that signaled a change in watches. We had passed the Afternoon Watch, which meant that my supper should have been coming to me, but I doubted that I'd be fed. I had already asked for too much when I stepped on board this blessed vessel as a boy. They probably wondered why I wasn't content with my own gender, as that was how God made me. But it wasn't as if I was going to stay a boy forever. I just needed the disguise long enough to find Jack, and then it'd be back to girl. But disguising myself only brought up another question for these men to contemplate. It indicated that I was sinister enough to deceive Man's brilliant mind and also that I thought them stupid so as to fall for my trick.
But they'd never know that I intended none of that. After all, now that they had robbed me of the liberties that came with being a male, they expected me to return to the ways of a lady. And, mind you, ladies never spoke at inappropriate times.
So I was left to remain mute and stupid.
My predictions were correct, and indeed, no meal came down for me as the day drew on, and we were now into the First Watch, with the cloak of night draping over the sky and soothing the ocean waves in a momentary rest. And all the while, my mind continued to delve and scurry into unchecked possibilities, assessing, speculating, and worrying endlessly until the rapid movement of my thoughts spurred a throbbing headache to pulse against my skull. The anguish was beginning to take its toll on me, and I deemed that my heart would stop if my worries were found to be of heavy worth.
My eyes desired to cast tears, to release my sorrow in waves of salt water, but I had no more tears to give away. My eyes were dry and itchy, rubbed red and bruised purple from the continuous distress I was bullied to accept. And the only other feeling I could honestly identify in my state of unfathomable trepidation was fatigue. As my spirit deteriorated in this dark, dank cage, so did my very body. But I would not succumb to sleep. No. I could not and would not fall into another trap.
But my eyes were persuaded by pressurizing anxiety and were gradually closing, only to be awakened at the sound of the hatchway to the brig opening.
I sat up, wiping my eyes and inching towards my cell gate to see who had come down.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't have you spend that long a time with her," I heard Vaughn say, shockingly more polite than I had ever heard him speak to me.
"That's all right. You are dismissed," replied the visitor, and I smiled with relief at the voice. My dear Bennett…
"E-Excuse me, sir?" squawked Vaughn, and I could imagine his old face wrinkled in utter surprise.
"You heard me. Lieutenant Kempe, Sergeant Vaughn is up for the First Watch. Please call down Private Donne to act in his stead."
"Certainly, Mister Bennett," replied Kempe from above the hatchway, and Vaughn had no choice but to follow the lieutenant's orders and stomp up the hatchway and to the orlop deck above. A smaller, leaner frame came down shortly after, and I judged that he was the mentioned Private Donne.
"Where shall I stand, sir?" I heard him ask Bennett.
"Right below the entrance, Mister Donne."
"Aye, sir."
Bennett then moved towards my cell, removing his fore-and-aft hat from his head and then kneeling directly in front of my gate, and in the dim light of the lantern strung above my cot, I could see his face through the bars and I came forward eagerly, as close as I could to him.
"Bennett…" I whispered, gazing up at his face. And the gentle smile he returned to me was enough to send my worries leagues away from my mind, and at once, I felt an incredible amount of comfort embrace me.
"Astrid," he said, reaching through the cell gate and touching my face. "I'm sorry." As his coarse fingertips grazed my cheeks and as his apology met my ears, I could no longer control my grief and I began to weep, holding his hand as he continued to hold my trembling chin.
"No, no," I sobbed. "Don't apologize; you couldn't have seen this coming. It's all my fault, Bennett."
"Astrid, please. Don't cry. I hate to see you weeping so hysterically." Fear for me sparked in his eyes and he looked desperate to come into my cell and hold me properly, but inside I could tell he was cursing himself for not watching over me as well as he thought he could have. But he could not have known that this would ever happen. The possibility was always present, but no one was certain of me being discovered.
"I-I c-can't s-stop, B-Bennett," I wept, now hiccupping as I strained my lungs for an inconsistent intake of air.
"Astrid," repeated Bennett, his voice growing firmer as he tried to tame my yowls. He even reached through the gate and took my hands in his and thus compelled me to look straight at him despite the tears dribbling down my face. "Look at me, Astrid. Look at me." I uneasily rested my gaze on him. "Relax. Please." I hesitantly quieted and my breathing pattern became softer and more regular, which was enough for him to relax himself as well.
"Why have you come down here, Bennett?" I asked, leaning my forehead against the bars of my cell gate and watching him intently.
"Because I love you," he explained, smirking at me. My response was only a thin, timid smile, but just his being there was enough to keep my hopes up for a little while. "And I've already given my testimony for your trial."
"How did it go? For you, I mean."
"Rather smoothly, I suppose. I defended you as well as I could without giving too much away about the relationship I have with you." My grin widened, and I relished the smile he returned for seeing me show some of my happiness again at the words he said. "Your brother and Dobbin should be coming down shortly. They were being interrogated as I left."
"Is there any hope for me, Bennett?" I posed cautiously, shifting my vision to the floor and noting the wet, dirty wood I sat on so carelessly. "And don't say there was always hope for me," I added. "I want to know if there is hope based on what you saw during the trial."
"Well," he began, tilting his head to the side and downward a bit so that he'd catch my glance again without me having to look up. I tried to elude his stare with a satisfied turn of my head but he followed, and now giving up on his game, I fixed my vision on his bright blue eyes and waited patiently for him to finish. "It's progressing fairly; generally, that is. The crew is a bit divided in their allegiances, for there are those who support the opinions of Thorne, Griffith, and Vaughn, but there are also other crew members who share your brother's, Dobbin's and Andre's claims about you."
"I don't want conflict," I remarked, but Bennett hushed me with a finger to my lips before I could continue with what I had planned on saying.
"I know you don't, but it's too late to change any of that. Captain Carlisle will be up late interviewing several crewmembers and coming up with a resolution. He said his decision will be made by dawn." I moaned at the deadline. I had prayed for at least one day more but now my fate would be sealed at the rising of the sun.
"Will…" I paused and turned back to Bennett, holding his hands more tightly and eventually kissing his hand before I spoke again. "Will you stay with me until then?"
"I have the Middle Watch, Astrid," he said solemnly, and I would have cried again if he had not slipped his hand from mine and reached for my head, running his hand through my hair. "But I'll stay as long as I can."
"Thank you, love," I said, resting my head on the cell bars again. Then, closing my eyes and taking in a large breath, I whispered, "Will you sing to me, Bennett?" And I could already picture him smiling genuinely at the request.
"Of course, Astrid," he answered, clearing his throat afterwards and then softly singing:
"As William and Mary walked by the sea-side,
Their last farewell to take,
'Should you never return, young William,' she said,
'My poor heart will surely break.'
'Be not dismayed,' young William he said,
As he pressed the dear maid to his side,
'Nor my absence don't mourn, for when I return,
I will make little Mary my bride'…"
"Sir?" interrupted Private Donne apprehensively, taking a step forward.
"Yes, Mister Donne?" returned Bennett, reluctantly facing the novel marine.
"There are few mids asking for entrance down here. Shall I let them in?"
"Yes, please," I answered, before Bennett could even open his mouth again. I gripped the bars of my gate and stood up, looking at Donne gravely. "Please let them in."
"Aye, Miss," he replied, saluting at me despite my current position. Dear Private Donne was more of a gentleman than his superior, Vaughn, would ever be.
He opened the hatchway and Roland descended from above, with Dobbin trailing behind with a bit of suppressed difficulty, as his lower left leg was missing entirely and he leaned on a crutch. Nevertheless, his determination to come down and to suffer through all the trouble of moving around for my sake revealed the noble naval lineage he had contained within his blood as the son of an admiral.
"Hullo, Astrid," greeted Dobbin, flashing his beloved cheeky grin at me.
"Ahoy there, Dob. Hello, Roland," I responded, giving them the same forced and pathetic smile I had shown Bennett. But it was a smile nonetheless.
"You all right, sister?" asked Roland, coming to the gate and looking down at me. I nodded.
"Hell, can Thorne really ask some bloody impertinent questions," commented Dobbin with a rub of his head, and Bennett gave me his all-knowing look as if to say that he agreed fully with what dear Mister Lester had said.
"He did. He basically probed me down until I was talking about pirate games I played with you," contributed Roland with a shake of his head. "I hate that man. If I ever have the chance to skewer him without punishment, you can be sure as hell that I'll be the first to ram him through with my sword."
"Me second," finished Dobbin.
"Gut him all you want," chuckled Bennett as he joined in on the mock plot for revenge. "Just let me have Griffith."
The lads enjoyed a small circle of murmured laughs while I still could find no will to chortle at the subject. As much as I wanted Griffith to pay dearly for what he had done to me, there still would be no way to get back what he stole. But I wouldn't let the nightmare occupy my thoughts any further. At that moment, the results of my trial were the most important. Not revenge.
"How did the trial go as you testified?" I questioned, bringing the brains of my boys back to the main predicament. All three of their heads whisked towards me, re-alerted at the gravity of my position and conforming their visages to the limits of dark melancholy.
"Divided," responded Roland, summing up the whole trial for me in one word. Would the entire crew remain separated over me? "There were just as many men influenced by Griffith, Thorne, and Lonan as there were affected by us. We did our best, sister. There's still Andre, and you know he's gained his reputation among the other sailors. You still have your chances."
"It's true," shared Bennett, coming forward and leaning his elbow against my cell gate. "Andre's voice is that of the majority, for as we well know, there are far more sailors than officers."
"But so is Lonan's," brought in Dobbin, almost spoken as a forbidden whisper. "And who's the more experienced seaman? Sullivan. Lonan's going to override Andre's testimony."
"Don't say that, Dob," interjected Roland, shooting a look at Dobbin for speaking so despondently. "Andy's the more popular one, and he has a clean record too. No fights. No threats. Nothing. Captain Carlisle, if he is as true to his word as he claims, must take Andre's word over Lonan's."
The three of them continued to bicker and discuss the future outcome of my trial outside of my cell gate, becoming so heated in the argument that I assumed that they had forgotten that I was still in my cell listening to them. But the points they arose were completely valid. My trial was still straddling the fence, and my life was getting tugged back and forth between innocence and condemnation.
"So the verdict will come at dawn?" I asked, interrupting their crescendo of impassioned debate.
The trio returned their disheartened eyes to me, and Bennett was the first who bravely nodded. "As far as I've been told, Private Donne will wake you, chain you back in irons, and then lead you up to the top deck. All members of the crew not on watch will be there to witness your verdict, and I'm not sure if any of us will be able to see you one more time before you are led up."
The steps Bennett described to me were played out in my head, and I watched myself walking up to the deck and facing all of those solemn, serious, expressionless faces all by my lonesome self. Such a situation would be unbearable, and I feared that I'd faint before I even reached the deck.
"That's how it goes?" I said, blinking away more tears, and Bennett nodded. "All right," I squeaked, gathering more air into my lungs as I calmed myself. "All right."
"Brave girl, sister," smiled Roland, coming to my gate and sticking his arms through the bars and embracing me. "It's not the end."
"Never is," added Dobbin with a wink at me. "Long live the Jackaroe."
The moaning 'creak' of a door hinge woke me, and I sprang up from my cot with a start, the memory of Griffith sneaking in flashing before my eyes. But my eyes opened to the sight of a well-lit cell, my lantern still burning brightly and only a few shadows lurking in the far corners of the brig.
"Miss?" came Private Donne's voice. I heard him behind me, and his voice reached my ears on a timid air.
I turned and faced him, and he looked down as he saw my alarmed visage. I was angry that I had fallen asleep when I told myself I wouldn't. All I remembered was Bennett, Roland and Dobbing staying with me until the Middle Watch, reminiscing the good times on board the ship and causing me to cry involuntarily. But the memories were good and comforting, making me laugh more at times rather than weep. Andre and my dear ship's boys had come down as soon as soon as my mids were called up for their watch, and together we mused over our own special moments on board the majestic Resolve. But alas, they too had to leave, and it was when I was left bereft of their company did I fall into the luring arms of sleep.
"It's time, Miss," Donne reiterated, standing at the entrance of my open cell gate, equipped with a pair of irons in his hands.
I nodded and got up from my cot, walking up to him with my arms extended limply. He trapped my wrists in the heavy iron rings and hesitantly took hold of my arm as he led me forward. I swallowed breath after breath as I tried to suppress the wild beat of my heart, but the sound ultimately ended up ringing in my ears and muffling all other sound that I almost didn't hear Private Donne's next command.
"Please follow me, Miss," he said, walking out of the cell and turning his head back to check to see if I was doing as I was told. I trailed behind him with miserable steps that dragged across the deck.
Up we went through the orlop and gun deck, then through the upper deck. Each deck was abandoned, with no human soul present at all, creating the impression that the ship swayed and rocked at the doing of a phantom and his ghostly crew. For indeed, all that could be seen or heard were the polished bones of the ship and the sound of bending wood against the calm sea.
Private Donne paused under the hatchway leading to the waist, and he looked back at me. "You ready, Miss?" he asked. The corners of my mouth trembled as water swelled in my eyes, and I shook my head at him, the tears splashing onto my hands swiftly, like the beginning drizzle of a torrential storm.
"Come now, Miss. Your mates are waiting for you right above. You are allowed one last greeting with them." When I heard him say that, I thought he was joking. Was I really so blessed as to see my mates once again? Private Donne spoke with such innocence and firmness that I was convinced it was true, and I raised my head and wiped my nose and eyes with the sleeve of my shirt before nodding to him.
He smiled back at me briefly before fixing his face back into the expressionless, passive countenance trademark of marines before announcing our arrival. The hatchway was opened by some familiar faces that winked down at me and we headed up, and I was met with the blinding white light of morning, the sky already in the process of changing from violent to pale yellow and limpid blue. But it wasn't just nature that amazed me manifestly. On all sides of the ship, starboard and larboard, high up in the rigging and yards, centered on the poop deck, quarterdeck and forecastle—all around me, were the watchful, curious faces of theResolve's blessed crew. Their white trousers, shirts striped in navy blue, and indigo kerchiefs fastened at their broad shoulders appeared defined and ubiquitous, reminding me of who had accompanied me on this long and terrible journey on the wretched, powerful ocean. They were the men who loved me, hated me and would hereafter decree if my life was either worth saving or deserving of death.
Silence lied heavy upon them, permitting me to listen only to the soft whispers of the sea to the waiting, gentle wind that blew back and forth around me, kissing my face only to whack me on the head from behind—a false advocate like his friend, the ocean; an ocean that had ensnared me in her fraudulent promises only to reveal to me a life that was plagued with the bitter saltiness of blood and death. This ocean, the ocean I had admired and loved so tenderly as a child, the same ocean that Jack lived upon and relied on; this ocean, this powerful ocean… was to be nothing but my woe.
And yet…
Even as death danced upon my shoulders, and even as caustic men damned me secretly within their thinking skulls, I could not help but remain one with the sea. Even if she had scorned me and robbed me of everything I had gained, her presence had become embedded into my veins, and no matter what happened, I understood that I could not and would not leave her.
A gentle tug on my sleeve from the side drew me away from my fleeting thoughts and there Bennett stood, looking down at me, his mouth straight and silent but his eyes glimmering with hope. At that moment, I didn't care if the whole crew was watching. I didn't care if what I was about to do was forbidden and punishable by death. I didn't care anymore. I would do what I wanted and not one soul would dare stop me.
I flung my arms over his head and around his neck, embracing him as I never had before, and I could hear the gasps and mutters weaving through the crew, but this was my moment. I would not have it ruined by their scorns. He happily returned my embrace, lifting me up off the ground and slipping his hand under my chin as he angled his head to kiss me. And he left me with such a kiss that put all the others to shame.
He set me down carefully, and Roland was next to come up to me, hugging me before I even had the chance to hold him first, and he whispered in my ear, "Don't worry, Astrid. Don't worry, sister. We're with you."
I kissed his cheek and mouthed, "I love ye, brother," before I went to give my farewells to Dobbin, Andy and my ship's boys, each of which I left with an embrace and a friendly kiss on the cheek or forehead.
Then Donne took my arm again and led me to the quarterdeck, where Captain Carlisle, the lieutenants, the warrant officers, and the rest of the midshipmen were positioned in strict orderly fashion. Carlisle sat at a table brought out on deck, his face grim and his sea green eyes ever observant and keen. Thorne stood directly by his side, glowering at me and Johnson and Kempe stood behind their captain, still and unreceptive.
"Astrid "Jack" Sparrow," voiced Carlisle sternly as he read from a piece of parchment before him. "Be it known that you have been charged for your willful commission of crimes against the Crown and His Majesty's navy. Said crimes being the following violations against Articles Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-two, and Twenty-seven of the Articles of War. You have been charged and convicted of engaging in and or influencing mutinous activity, for behaving with contempt to a superior officer, for failing to report traitorous or mutinous practice or design, for quarrelling with a superior officer, and for sleeping upon your Watch and neglecting appointed duty."
I cast my eyes to the floor, knowing that everything I was accused of was rightfully justified. I had been the source of bad blood on the ship, and I had failed to report the rising tensions amongst the crew to a superior officer. I understood that I did nothing to stop it and became involved in the bad blood myself, which led me to show contempt for Griffith openly. My fight with Roland, however, was personal, and I had almost forgotten that it was witnessed by Mister Sumner and a third of the crew, and I had slept on Watch only once. Once. I did not find one offense enough to condemn me. But any of my rebuttals were halted, for my sentence was being announced.
"And for these crimes," declared Carlisle, his eyes moving off of the paper and onto me as I stood in the middle of the quarterdeck, alone in my defense, "you have been sentenced, on this day…"
The beat of my heart had intensified rapidly, my body felt spineless and frail, and my mind felt confused and lost. I even thought that my heartbeat had become the speedy drumbeat always played as we Beat to Quarters, but it was not. It was not. This heartbeat was mine, full-blooded, frantic, and strained.
Captain Carlisle's voice never finished his statement. Instead, he began again, lowering the parchment from his hands and rising, his eyes still on me.
"Astrid Sparrow, you have been sentenced, on this day…"
I held my breath.
"… to hang until dead…"