Oceanswept (6 page)

M
y stomach tightened as the unwanted visitor approached. There was a resolve in his eyes that caused the hair on the back of my neck to prickle.

One of his arms was entwined around a large, ceramic jug. In his other hand he playfully jingled a ring of keys. I swallowed hard. His threatening smile grew wider as he saw the fear in my eyes. His eyes probed every last inch of me, lingering on the bit of bare skin that showed at the top of my robe.

My hand flew to the lapels, and I covered my exposed skin as if it would help at this point. My thoughts raced as I tried to find a way out, a way to fight back. Obviously, running was not an option. I would have to face him. That left me with only two courses of action—beg for mercy and hope to soften his heart or put on an air of bravado in hope of intimidating him. He hardly seemed sympathetic enough to listen to any measure of begging. Remembering how my strength and temper had scared Nicholas and Skidmore my first day in the brig, I decided to try intimidation.

I took a deliberate step towards the man. “What do you want?” I demanded, hoping my tone was as harsh as I meant it to be.

His sallow eyes still lingered at my neck. Was he staring at my skin or noticing my frightened hand clutching tightly at my robe? I forced my fist to unclench and I pulled my hand to my side. He couldn’t know just how vulnerable I was.

But he already knew. It was why he was here.

He held up the jug. “Skidmore sent me. Said ye might enjoy a little
refreshment
.” The jeering smile never left his face.

“Rum, is it? Leave it in that crate. I will get it when I want it.”

He continued to advance. “Nay, it’s too big to fit through those bars.” He jingled the keys. “It’s best I deliver it personally.”

“I do not want your rum. I do not want anything to do with you. Just turn around and leave.” Although I tried my hardest to sound threatening, a shrill edge of panic sounded in my voice.

Sneering, the man held out a key and dragged it against the bars walking the length of the brig, then back again.

My one chance to flee would be when he opened the gate. I could dash out quickly and hide in the darkness of the ship’s hold.

He stopped his pacing in front of the gate. Slowly, deliberately, without ever taking an eye off me, he positioned the key in the lock.

“Leave now or I’ll scream,” I threatened, stepping back.

“Please do,” he beckoned, turning the key.

I tried to summon a scream, but my breath caught in my throat. My mouth was dry. I was frozen with terror. I wondered whether screaming would even help. I was a prisoner here, a
nothing
. No one could possibly care if I lived or died. Would anyone even respond? Worse yet, would my screaming only signal other pirates to come and join in the games? Perhaps they were already waiting, and this man was only the first in a long line.

The pirate slowly opened the gate of the brig, breaching the protection of my iron bars. I watched for my chance to run but he opened the door just wide enough to slide through into the brig with me, blocking my escape. If he wasn’t going to let me out, I would force my way out.

As he was slipping through the gate, I rushed directly at him, grabbing the gate with both hands and slamming it into him with all my might. The edge of the iron gate cracked into his face, smashing the back of his head into the sharp metal door frame.

He cried out in agony. Blood spurted from his nose. With more force than I thought the scrawny man had, he pushed back the gate and swung the heavy jug at me, hitting me squarely on the jaw. I flew through the air and crashed into a heap against the back of the brig.

“You cheap hussy!” he swore, slamming the door shut behind him. We were locked in the brig together. Only the keys would unlock the gate and he no longer had those. He must’ve dropped them somewhere in the darkness when I slammed into him.

The pirate threw the jug onto me. It hit me in the ribs, knocking the breath from my lungs.

Although I had dropped my candle, it stayed lit as it rolled into a corner of the brig. In the distorted shadows, the sailor looked horribly demented. Blood covered the bottom half of his face and stained his shirt. His features twisted with rage. A low noise hissed through his clenched teeth.

In two large steps he crossed the brig and knelt over me. I screamed with all my might.

His hand grabbed my throat and bashed my head against the floor. “Quiet. You take what’s comin’ to ya.”

With one hand still on my throat, his other hand roughly stroked my leg.

“Please,” I whimpered, unable to hide my fear.

He tightened his grasp on my throat and slammed my head against the floor once more. Brilliant stars flashed across my sight. I kicked as he grappled at my legs. Without relaxing his hold on my neck, he climbed on top of me, using his weight to immobilize me.

Silent cries wracked my body. Tears poured from my eyes.

I clawed at his face, threw my knees into his back. Try as I did to escape, the struggle was fruitless. He leaned down and pressed his face into the crook of my neck. The stench of rum on his hot breath mingled with the metallic scent of blood. My stomach threatened to retch. I screamed again. He panted heavily against my shivering skin.

The ship swayed gently, but enough that the candle rolled directly towards us. Without hesitating, I snatched the still-burning candle and shoved the flaming stick into the man’s eye. He reacted just as I hoped he would, reeling back and releasing his grip on me to protect his face. I punched his neck, making him choke for air. With all the strength I could muster, I rolled the man off me. He stumbled to his feet, ready to fight back.

I could not let that happen. I bent down quickly and grabbed the handle of the jug of rum with both hands, swinging it up with all my might as I stood. The heavy jug hit him directly under the chin, and he toppled onto the floor.

In the darkness I could barely see his figure moving on the floor of the brig. He was righting himself, preparing for battle. This would not end well. One of us would wind up dead. I wanted it to be him.

I crossed quickly to him and dropped the jug on top of his head before he could stand, never letting go if its handle. It was the best weapon I had. Screaming with fury, I swung it at the man again; this time it slammed into his shoulder. Scrambling clumsily on the floor, he reached into his boot and pulled something out.

A plane of cool silver glinted in the darkness. A dirk.

Preparing to crush him before he could use the dirk, I raised the jug high over my head with both hands, stretching as high as I could to get as much momentum as possible. A swift kick landed directly in my stomach and I doubled over. The ceramic jug slipped from my hands and shattered on the ground. Rum splashed my legs, its sick odor filling the night. The pirate pounced on me. I tried to dodge him, but the man grabbed my hair, yanking me back against him. I felt a cold blade against my throat.

“Yer a saucy little vixen,” he crooned. A spatter of blood showered me as he spoke.

I gagged at the reek of his breath.

He maneuvered me until I was cornered against the bars. With deliberate measure, he ran his tongue up the side of my face. I cried out quietly, tears streaming down my cheeks. He pressed his lips against mine in a perverse sort of kiss, stabbing at me with his blood-soaked tongue. His teeth found my bottom lip and bit down on it hard, drawing my own blood.

He pressed the point of the dirk into the hollow of my neck. The pain was so sharp I was sure he had pierced the skin. The tickling sensation of blood on dripping on my throat confirmed my fears.

“We do this right now. You fight me, you die.”

He yanked me to the ground by my hair and kicked me with all his might in my back. I writhed in pain. Laughing, he kicked me again, this time in the side of the head. My ears rang and flashes of red light exploded in the dark. I curled up defensively, unable to move, unable to cry out, my arms cradling my head. His hands unhinged his belt and I knew this was it. I couldn’t fight anymore, though I wished I could. If I could fight for just a bit longer, he would be forced to stab me, to kill me. Then this nightmare would finally be over.

A
spark of blinding light filled the darkness and a deafening crack left my ears ringing.

The last kick to my head must have been causing hallucinations. An eerie silence engulfed me and I felt myself slipping deeply into the calm.

“Wrack!” a voice boomed. “Leave her alone!”

That voice was no hallucination. Someone was here to stop this.

Paying no heed to the demand, my attacker—Wrack—forced me from my protected ball and knelt on top of me, the dirk grazing my cheek. Between my sobs, I choked for air.

A new light appeared. Softer. More constant. It grew brighter, closer. I shifted my head slightly and through blurred vision I saw who pounded down the ladder.

Nicholas.

I blinked, sure my mind was playing tricks on me. Yes, it was Nicholas. Skidmore followed closely behind him, holding a lantern high.

Despite the violent trembling that shuddered through me, I couldn’t move. There wasn’t any fight left in me, and I had no way to buy Nicholas the time he needed to find the keys and stop this man.

“Get out of the brig, now!” Nicholas’s deafening demand caused me to shudder. “That is an order!” His urgent steps crashed across the floor.

Nicholas’s threats didn’t stop the pirate. He pulled my robe up, exposing my legs. An earsplitting explosion sounded, and the door of the brig swung open. Nicholas was standing there, holding a smoking pistol. Skidmore hurried behind Nicholas, the lantern in one hand and a sword in the other.

In one swift motion, Nicholas pulled Wrack off me and cracked the butt of his pistol across Wrack’s face. My attacker crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Get him out of here,” Nicholas growled.

Skidmore set the lantern down in the brig, and flung the unconscious pirate over his shoulder like a bag of cargo.

I felt the warmth of Nicholas’s touch on my face, and soft though it was, I couldn’t help but wince. I balled my fists and swung at him, landing feeble punches against his chest.

“No! No!” I screamed, flailing my fists violently, though I knew I was too weak to protect myself.

“It’s me, Tessa, it’s me. It’s Nicholas. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

“Don’t touch me. I hate you! I hate you!”

Nicholas lifted me from the ground, carefully cradling me in a strong embrace.

My flailing punches melted into uncontrollable shaking, my screaming into sobs. I wept, stuffing my fists into my eyes.

Nicholas soothed me gently, speaking words so softly that I could not understand them. He held me securely, his arms around me, his head bent over mine, pressing his lips against my ear.

My violent sobbing settled into soft cries. Exhausted, I finally lay limp in Nicholas’s arms.

He softly stroked my hair. “Can you hear me?” he quietly asked.

I tried to respond but could only manage a pathetic moan. My entire body burned with fiery pain.

He sighed deeply. “What did he do to you?” he whispered to himself. His fingers—light as a butterfly’s touch—grazed my swollen face. “Can you move at all?”

I shook my head ever so slightly. Even this small movement sent shocks of pain through me.

“I’m just going to look at you closer, Tessa. Don’t be scared.” Nicholas laid me on the ground, tucking my robe around me. He grabbed the lantern and held it overhead. He examined my face, gingerly touching the spreading bruise on my jaw where Wrack struck me with the jug. He touched my bloodied lip. I heard him gasp when he saw the pool of drying blood on my neck and shoulder where Wrack’s nose had bled on me. After a moment of closer examination, Nicholas seemed satisfied that the blood was not mine.

“Your neck is bruised,” he observed. I coughed as he gently stroked the tender muscles where I had been throttled.

“Nicholas?” I rasped, finally finding my voice.

“I’m here.” His voice was husky.

Struggling for strength, I coughed out the only question that was on my mind, “Is he gone?”

“Aye, he’s gone. You will never see him again,” promised Nicholas. “Where did he hurt you?”

I swallowed hard, hoping to get some moisture in my dry throat. “My neck,” I croaked, cupping my throat to demonstrate how I’d been strangled. “He kicked my head and my back and in the stomach.” My voice was a barely audible whisper.

“And here?” he asked, stroking my jaw.

“A jug of rum.”

“That explains the broken clay. It looks like you were cut from that too.”

He was holding my left hand. It was covered in lacerations I’d not noticed before.

“Did he…?”

“No,” I whispered. “You arrived just in time.”

He solemnly examined my wounds again. “We need to watch for bruisin’ where he kicked you, but I don’t think anything is broken. Tessa, I’m going to carry you up to my cabin. You’ll be safe there.” With a hot fury in his voice, he added, “I promise no one will hurt you again.”

“Nicholas?” I asked again.

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?”

“To take care of you, of course,” he said like it was blatantly obvious.

“But you put me here.”

He quickly sucked in his breath.

“Tessa,” murmured Nicholas, “you do know that I never meant you any pain, don’t you?”

His eyes shone with concern.

I struggled to slow my racing thoughts, to make sense of what had happened, of Nicholas’s abandonment, and his tender actions now. Finally, I whispered, “But everything you’ve done has caused me pain.”

Nicholas scooped me into his arms, wrapping me in a soft embrace. I felt a sob ripple through his chest. I cried with him.