taller than the other. "Put our treasure back in its chest and make sure it's locked away."
"No, not the crate. Please." Ailin tried to pull herself back as the men advanced but had nowhere to go. She fell to one side, hands out to protect her head. She hated being on land, her body clumsy and seemed to weigh as much as a whale. She couldn't move around out of water without great effort, hauling herself by her arms. If she were in the ocean, she would have shot away faster than any of them could pounce. Feet surrounded her while she tried to drag herself to a corner. Hands grabbed at her. One pulled a lock of her hair and she whimpered as pain shot over her scalp.
They threw her into the crate and the water slopped over the sides. She dropped below the surface and before she could sit up the lid slammed down and the padlock rattled as they locked her inside.
"No." She hammered her hands on the cold metal encasing her. "No," her voice dropped to a whisper as she cried. What was the point in trying to fight? Death awaited her regardless, better it come quickly and end her suffering.
Chapter Seven
From his position at the helm, Fenton saw the captain and the others disappear down the steps to the hold and his heart sunk. The wind caught any sound and whipped it past his ears, but he saw Timmy shoot out like a startled rabbit. The boy scampered up the ratlines as though a fire breathing demon snapped at his heels. An apt description for the captain when he emerged, a black mood fouled the air around him. The crew shrunk back and dropped their heads, no one wanted to attract Reis' attention when ill humour wrapped itself tight around him.
He barked orders and if he deemed men too slow to respond, Yusuf the quartermaster dispensed a lick of the whip to make them lift their feet higher. Fenton steeled himself as the captain descended on him, unable to abandon his post until relieved. Reis pushed him out of the way and wrapped his hands around the wheel. Yusuf's hand caressed the whip dangling by his side and Fenton waited for a blow that didn't fall. Not that he would have felt one, his body numbed like his mind. Instead, the captain kept him busy all day with mundane chores that would normally be undertaken by an ordinary hand. He knew punishment when he felt it seeping through his clothes and running down between his shoulder blades.
Sweat poured down the back of his neck and soaked his shirt as he worked high in the ratlines. There was no shelter from the harsh sun as he flexed his fingers to fix frayed rope. Timmy stood in the crow's nest, his telescopic eye scanning the horizon, searching for any sign of the Regulators, the lawmen that prowled the skies dispensing justice and collecting taxes.
The boy refused to look down or acknowledge Fenton and from the way he scurried from the cargo hold, Fenton could only hope Ailin was unhurt.
No sooner did his feet hit then deck than Reis found another task for him, from swabbing the decks to cleaning out the latrine. And so the day wore on without any break or rest until night descended and the crew changed shift. He swayed on his feet before Reis allowed him to go and Fenton dropped to his bunk fully clothed, too exhausted to even seek a dinner.
"What happened?" he asked Timmy from between cracked lips. He drank from a steel water bottle and cooled his parched throat. The lash never touched his back but he wished it had, at least a whipping was over quicker than being worked to death.
A bruise bloomed over the lad's cheek. "Cap'n didn't like me teaching Ailin to play chess. He said she was trying to use her siren ways on me to escape. They threw her in the crate and locked it." The boy's words choked off. "I can still hear her crying and hammering to get out."
Fenton swung his legs over the side of his bed. He'd not leave her like that, it didn't matter how tired he was, he would at least open the lid for her, so she could see the moon. He only made it three strides
"No, not the crate. Please." Ailin tried to pull herself back as the men advanced but had nowhere to go. She fell to one side, hands out to protect her head. She hated being on land, her body clumsy and seemed to weigh as much as a whale. She couldn't move around out of water without great effort, hauling herself by her arms. If she were in the ocean, she would have shot away faster than any of them could pounce. Feet surrounded her while she tried to drag herself to a corner. Hands grabbed at her. One pulled a lock of her hair and she whimpered as pain shot over her scalp.
They threw her into the crate and the water slopped over the sides. She dropped below the surface and before she could sit up the lid slammed down and the padlock rattled as they locked her inside.
"No." She hammered her hands on the cold metal encasing her. "No," her voice dropped to a whisper as she cried. What was the point in trying to fight? Death awaited her regardless, better it come quickly and end her suffering.
Chapter Seven
From his position at the helm, Fenton saw the captain and the others disappear down the steps to the hold and his heart sunk. The wind caught any sound and whipped it past his ears, but he saw Timmy shoot out like a startled rabbit. The boy scampered up the ratlines as though a fire breathing demon snapped at his heels. An apt description for the captain when he emerged, a black mood fouled the air around him. The crew shrunk back and dropped their heads, no one wanted to attract Reis' attention when ill humour wrapped itself tight around him.
He barked orders and if he deemed men too slow to respond, Yusuf the quartermaster dispensed a lick of the whip to make them lift their feet higher. Fenton steeled himself as the captain descended on him, unable to abandon his post until relieved. Reis pushed him out of the way and wrapped his hands around the wheel. Yusuf's hand caressed the whip dangling by his side and Fenton waited for a blow that didn't fall. Not that he would have felt one, his body numbed like his mind. Instead, the captain kept him busy all day with mundane chores that would normally be undertaken by an ordinary hand. He knew punishment when he felt it seeping through his clothes and running down between his shoulder blades.
Sweat poured down the back of his neck and soaked his shirt as he worked high in the ratlines. There was no shelter from the harsh sun as he flexed his fingers to fix frayed rope. Timmy stood in the crow's nest, his telescopic eye scanning the horizon, searching for any sign of the Regulators, the lawmen that prowled the skies dispensing justice and collecting taxes.
The boy refused to look down or acknowledge Fenton and from the way he scurried from the cargo hold, Fenton could only hope Ailin was unhurt.
No sooner did his feet hit then deck than Reis found another task for him, from swabbing the decks to cleaning out the latrine. And so the day wore on without any break or rest until night descended and the crew changed shift. He swayed on his feet before Reis allowed him to go and Fenton dropped to his bunk fully clothed, too exhausted to even seek a dinner.
"What happened?" he asked Timmy from between cracked lips. He drank from a steel water bottle and cooled his parched throat. The lash never touched his back but he wished it had, at least a whipping was over quicker than being worked to death.
A bruise bloomed over the lad's cheek. "Cap'n didn't like me teaching Ailin to play chess. He said she was trying to use her siren ways on me to escape. They threw her in the crate and locked it." The boy's words choked off. "I can still hear her crying and hammering to get out."
Fenton swung his legs over the side of his bed. He'd not leave her like that, it didn't matter how tired he was, he would at least open the lid for her, so she could see the moon. He only made it three strides
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