When Geneva made it to the coast, it was very early in the morning. The sun was barely showing over the horizon, and there was a ship not too far off the coast. She stayed hidden in the tree line to observe, and when she found an opening, she snuck aboard the ship.

Of course, she was in her male disguise. Although the African village she stayed in didn't seem to mind her gender, she was going back to the real world now, and back to people who did mind. When she got safely aboard, she stowed herself away in the storage in the hull and waited.

She had expected to hear the sound of slaves coming down into the hull, but she never did. She just heard angry shouts, a few yells, and then she heard the ship's anchor being pulled up. She sat there confused. She had thought this was a cargo ship. Apparently it wasn't.

She got out from behind the barrels which offered her protection from being seen and stood up again. She could feel the boat moving some now. Something wasn't right. She wasn't sure what she should do, but she had no clue where this ship was going. She had thought it would be going back to Europe, or maybe to Cuba as part of the Atlantic slave trade, but since this ship had no slaves in the hull, it couldn't be a slave ship. What other ship could it be then?

Just then, she heard a ruckus, and a few men came down into the hull, probably looking for something. Geneva froze. It was dark where she was, but there were some lanterns lit on the other wall. She ducked down where she was, unable to move to her cover behind the barrels in time. One of the men was very tall, and the other one was regular size, but very built.

The tall one grabbed a lantern off the table and started in her direction. She didn't know what she could do at this point. It was so dark, they'd never be able to see her eyes. She couldn't move now, or else they'd hear her. She wished she'd been more careful about this.

The tall one started walking in a different direction, but the strong one started coming towards her with his own lantern. She held her breath, trying to become one with the powder kegs next to her. The strong one didn't see her either, even though he walked within a foot of her. When she was sure they were far enough away, she breathed softly again. She had to figure something out. She couldn't hide forever. She just needed to get off, swim to shore, and wait for another ship to come.

But that was a stupid idea. She had no way of knowing when the next cargo ship would arrive. God, she wished she knew where this ship was going. Perhaps she could stay, but she wouldn't make it too long as a stowaway, especially like this down in the hull. It was too musty.

"Who are you?!" came a voice from behind her, and Geneva jumped. "You ain't a member of this crew! How'd you get in here?!" His accent was a thick, lower class British accent, and he grabbed the back of her jacket and pulled her up to her feet.

"Aye, he's just a lad, Lewis," snickered the tall one from behind her. The muscular one was holding her.

"I don't give a rat's arse what he is," Lewis said gruffly, shoving her forward toward the stairs that led up to the deck. "He ain't supposed to be here!"

Lewis shoved her up the stairs and towards a staunch man with a long jacket on.

"Captain!" exclaimed Lewis and the tall man at the same time from behind her. "I found a stowaway!" The two men glared at each other stiffly, and Lewis shoved the other man back a foot. The tall man hissed in return.

"A stowaway?" said the man in the jacket calmly, his back turned toward them. "And how is it that we never found this stowaway until now?"

Now, neither of the men wanted to take credit for finding her. Lewis shoved her forward toward the captain, as if he was letting her do the explaining. It took everything for Geneva not to roll her eyes.

"Sir," Geneva said, in the most manly voice she could muster. "I'm afraid there's been a mistake here. I thought this was me cargo ship." She knew somewhat where she was going with this story.

"Your cargo ship?" said the captain, who turned to face her. "A slave cargo ship?" He almost sounded amused. He had dirty blonde hair that came down to his jaw and a scraggly beard. His face was weathered and stern, but still on the younger side.

"Yes, sir," Geneva said.

"Then why were you hiding in the hull?" the man asked. He thought he was onto her. But she had a few more tricks up her sleeve.

"I wasn't hiding, sir," she protested. "I was waiting to do me job, sir. Me job on me cargo ship is to line up the slaves, sir." She made a real effort to sound young, inexperienced, and flustered. The more nervous she was, the more believable her story would be.

"So you came from Africa then?" the captain pondered, seemingly entertained by the story.

"Yes, sir," Geneva replied, nodding rapidly.

"How'd you end up stuck there, lad?" asked the captain. "Did your old crew maroon ya'?"

"No, sir!" Geneva said, rather excitedly. She sounded perfect. The captain was totally convinced now. "I was doin' me job! A slave tried to run for the forest, and I went after him like I was told to do, sir! When I came back, me ship was gone!"

"So, they marooned you," the captain laughed, and the crew laughed along with him. Geneva's shoulder's slumped.

"I jus' did what I was told to," she mumbled sadly. "I even brought the slave back. I got 'em, jus' like I was told to."

"Well, if you're so good at doing what you're told, then you can shut your whining trap!" howled the muscular man, kicking Geneva in the back of the knees. She stumbled backward and fell flat on her bottom, thankful that her hat was still on. A few men snatched her rapier and cutlass and gave them to the captain, who just stood silently watching the whole scene in amusement.

"Hey, wait!" Geneva protested. Part of that was a bit real. "Those are mine! You can't take those!" The men paid no mind.

"You're real good at complainin', lad," said a huge man, pulling a dagger out of his jacket.

"You can throw me overboard if you'd like," Geneva exclaimed nervously. "I can jus' swim back to shore an' not cause you no more trouble."

"Oh," said the huge man, bringing the dagger close to her jaw. "You ain't gonna cause us no more trouble. You're going to do as you're told, jus' like you said."

The man let the dagger pierce the skin on her face, drawing blood. She winced and yelped. That part of her act was entirely real. She was glad that her voice had remained in the low octaves when she cried out. The man drug the dagger along her jaw for about an inch, and then went back and crossed it with another mark, making a bloody 'x' on her face. When the man finally pulled away, Geneva's hand shot up to her face. She was shaking, and when she pulled her hand away to look at it, there was blood all over her fingers. Had that just happened?

"Lock him in the brig," the captain chuckled, studying her rapier, and Lewis, along with the tall man, picked her up by her arms and drug her back down into the hull and threw her into a cell.