Unhooked(21)

Chapter 11


THEY DEPOSIT ME INTO A tiny cabin with a narrow bunk built right into the wall, but I don’t have any intention of sleeping. I lie there instead, listening to the ship, until far into the night. At some point, long after the footfalls have gone silent, a wailing cry breaks the stillness of the night. I sit up, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from and what could be causing it, but in the end, I can’t tell if it’s a man or a monster that makes those terrible screams.

Eventually exhaustion takes over, and the next thing I know, I’m surfacing from a dreamless sleep. At first I’m completely disoriented. The room is unfamiliar, and when I try the door, it’s locked. Through the slit that serves as a window, I can barely make out the sea, and from the slant of the light, I can tell it’s already afternoon.

Tentatively, I take stock of my situation. My body still aches from the ordeal I’ve been through, but my eyes aren’t so swollen, and my headache is nearly gone. The wound on my leg looks better too. It’s red and angry, but at least it’s starting to heal.

I’m still checking the wound when I hear a rustling in the corridor. Curious, I test the handle and discover that the door’s unlocked. I ease it open and find a squat toad of a boy with hair as ruddy as the freckles across his cheeks.

He hands me a plate of lumpy biscuits as he blocks the door with his body. “Sorry, mum, but you’re to stay in the cabin,” he proclaims with a bashfulness that doesn’t match the responsibility of his post. “Captain’s orders,” he says before he gently closes the door in my face.

I spend the next four days trapped in that cabin while an odd parade of boys brings me food. Most of the boys sport the same dark tattoos as Devin. I can’t tell exactly what they’re for, though—some sort of loyalty to the Captain? Some mark of rank?

Each night, I lie awake for as long as I can, listening to the sounds of the sleeping ship, and each evening, long after the ship has gone silent, the same wailing cry breaks the stillness of the night.

By the fourth morning, I’m at my breaking point. The muscles in my legs twitch with the need to move more than the four paces that make up the length of my quarters. So when the soft-looking, freckle-faced boy is the one who brings me my breakfast of lumpy biscuits, I know he’s my best chance to escape.

“Breakfast, mum.” He doesn’t meet my eyes as he waits for me to take the plate.

I hesitate, wanting to hold him off while I consider my options. “What’s your name?”

His eyes widen a bit, as though I’ve surprised him by speaking. Slowly he raises them to meet mine. They’re soft eyes. Young eyes. “Owen, mum,” he says, pushing the plate toward me again.

“Owen,” I say, repeating his name as I stand. He shifts nervously when I don’t immediately take his offering. “Where are your parents, Owen?” I ask, finally inching closer to take a biscuit from the plate.

Confusion flashes across his face as he backs toward the door. “I have other duties, mum.” His eyes dart away from me as he speaks. “I best be getting back to them,” he says with a curt nod before he eases himself out of the cabin. But he’s so nervous and flustered, he doesn’t notice the door hitting my toe instead of latching securely.

I wait a few minutes, and when I’m sure no one’s around, I ease myself into the narrow corridor. The ship creaks and hums with the normal noise of the day, and once I know the way is clear, I don’t hesitate to make my way up the short flight of steps to the deck above.

The sun is low on the horizon, and all around me, the ship is bustling with activity. No one seems to notice that I’ve managed to escape. The few boys who glance at me look away just as quickly, as though they don’t care. Or maybe as though they don’t even recognize me from the day before.

“Well, that was easy enough,” I say to myself, trying not to worry that it was maybe too easy. I’ll take what I can get. Not that I have any idea what to do next—I’m still on a ship. I’m still far out to sea, and they’re all still armed.

So maybe I should find myself a weapon.

I find a cap sitting on a barrel and pull the hat over my short hair. Trying to blend in, I scour the deck for some boy careless enough to have left his weapon unwatched. But before I find one, I catch a glimpse of the Captain’s dark head near the center of the ship. Hiding behind one of the crates, I watch for a moment as he shows one of the younger sailors how to properly lunge at someone with a dagger.

He looks so at ease helping the child. Considering how violent the lesson is, the Captain’s face is strangely relaxed, happy even. When the small boy lunges correctly and manages not to tumble over, the Captain’s face splits into a wide and sincere grin. “Well done, Davey.” He laughs as he ruffles the boy’s shaggy hair before sending him off to practice on his own.

But before the next boy can step forward for his turn, a hushed murmur falls across the deck. Thinking someone has seen me, I duck lower. After a moment, though, I understand it’s not me that has drawn their attention. No one is even looking my way, because every one of the boys has turned toward the back of the ship. The deck quickly fills with their uneasy whispers.

When I turn to look in the direction the crew is all watching, I see that a girl with long blond hair is standing as regal as a queen on the upper deck directly above me. Her flesh-colored pants sit low on her hips and fit her like a second skin. They look like they’re made of poorly cured leather, and they’re covered in ragged seams that crisscross her narrow thighs like a spider web. She’s also wearing a shaggy fur vest dyed the color of blood. It’s not the color of fresh, bright blood, but the rusty red of blood that’s gone thick and dark.