Stormy Seas

Her long brown hair danced like Medusa’s snakes in the ocean wind. The sails were full as the ship’s bow crashed through the waves.   With this current and wind, we should be in Jamacia tomorrow. Maria stood at the foredeck, her face pointing into the sun. Taking a deep breath, she soaked up the fresh air. This smells better than the cesspit below the deck.

Feeling refreshed she made her way down the steep wooden steps. The air was heavy with the musty smells of rotten food and urine. Descending into the darkness, the abuse yelled by those locked up in the brig drowned out the ship’s creaks and groans. 

“You won’t get away with this. I will kill you,” Captain Pierre said as he looked out through rusting bars. His royal blue coat tattered and covered in grim hung from his tired body. Whiskers covered a once-shaven face.

Her piercing brown eyes stared back through the bars, “You are in no position to make threats.”  She pointed her cutlass toward him, “I should feed you to the sharks now.”

“My crew will stop you.”

“You mean the ones I have already thrown overboard.”

He whacked the bars with the heel of his palm, “I should have locked you all up when we pulled you aboard. Bloody shipwrecked my arse. The colony will hang you for piracy.”

Her face moved towards his, “Who said we are heading for the colony.”

His eyes glared back at her, clenching his jaw and saying nothing. She burst out laughing as she strolled back into the shadows.

***

The seas were getting rougher, the light fading.  Maria in the captain’s cabin partway through eating her dinner of cured wild boar and wine, when her glass toppled over. Its red inkiness slashed over the map chart beside her. “Damn,” she muttered as she swiped the page with her sleeve.  What is going on with this ship?

She wobbled and bounced off the wall as she made her way to the deck. Glancing at the horizon made her chest tighten. Dark towering clouds lay ahead. With the storm still building the wind was getting stronger and drawing the ship towards the front. “Drop the sails,” she yelled. “Why do I have to tell you lazy lot to do that when we are heading into a storm.”

With the sails down the ship had slowed but the currents were still dragging them towards the storm. Should I drop the anchor? I don’t want to destroy this ship; we are so close to Jamaica.

The clouds bubbled overhead as the distant sound of thunder grew louder. Arcs of lightning lit up the darkening skies. It was too rough to be up on deck, the crew had gone below while Maria bunkered down in the cabin.  Sleep was out of the question as the ship rocked and creaked. She gazed at the lantern swinging overhead. I hope the storm will be over soon.

Claps of thunder and the howling winds roared outside. Occasionally a grinding vibration would rattle through the floorboards. Her heart started to beat faster and her breathing increased. I hope that is not the reef. Another thud echoed through the ship, then another. She grabbed her bag and belt and started to get dressed. Sliding on her boots, “This night is not going to end well.”

Seated near the cabin door, she firmly gripped the table leg as the ship swung back and forth. The creaks and groans continued; a bigger thud ran down the ship’s side. She closed her eyes as the grating sounds passed beneath her. The next thing she knew, she was flung into the wall as the ship rolled up at a steep angle. Loud crunching sounds filled the air as the ship spun sideways and ground to a stop. The floor rose at a forty-five-degree angle as everything loose in the room rained down on her. Raising her arms to shield her face; her dinner plate skimmed past her head smashing into the wall. The swinging lantern now almost touched the roof; its dim light painted a grim picture.

While the ship had stopped, each wave made it shudder. Balancing with one foot on the floor and the other on the wall, Maria peered out the window. The darkness outside the ship revealed nothing as she stared at her dim reflection in the glass. A flash of lightning overhead made her heart drop. The ghostly image of broken boards not far from the cabin stuck up through the sea spray. Where is the rest of the ship? Another flash of light reflected off a wave towering overhead. Oh, crap.

She tried to brace herself in the rocking ship. As the wave hit, she was flung against the roof before being thrown into the opposite wall as the rolling ship broke apart around her. Her body drawn under the warm Caribbean waters; she grabbed onto the closest piece of wood she could reach. Debris and waves crashed into her as she fought to keep her head above water. Her powerless body tossed and turned as she was dragged over the jagged reef. 

***

A chirp of a seagull overhead woke Maria. Her limp battered body lay at the high tide line in amongst the debris of the ship. The waves lapped at her feet as the sun rose over the bay. Exhausted from the night she drifted off to sleep again. 

A splash of salt water lapping her face made her jump. How long have I been here? One side of her face stung; the skin was on fire. She looked around. Where am I? Broken boards, handrails and boxes bobbed on the tide beside her. Scanning the beach revealed a random collection of bits from the broken ship and cargo. Where is my crew? 

Pulling herself to her feet she looked down. Where is my boot?  Trying to walk in dry sand with one shoe added to her frustration. Muttering under her breath, she ripped off her boot and threw it into the waves. Searching for anything of use she wandered along the shoreline. An empty rum bottle washed up with some timber. “I need to find water,” she said as she panned the trees behind her.

It didn’t take long for her to find a small forest stream. Pushing the bottle beneath the surface, the cold water was refreshing. Splashing the chilled water on her burnt face stung for a moment before the pain eased. She dropped down leaning back on a tree her feet dangling in the water. Closing her eyes, she sighed as the weight of her situation hit. Gritting her teeth she let out a big scream as she thumped her fists into the ground beside her.

The light was fading in the forest. I don’t have much light left to find my crew. She took off up the beach calling out. A sheet of creased paper drifted in and out on the waves. It drew her eyes as she approached. My map! Carefully pulling the soggy paper out of the water she groaned.  The ink ran down the page leaving a ghostly image of a map.  Placing it to dry with the other items she had collected.

A short distance away someone was lying on the high tide line. She found the energy to run in the soft sand. As she got nearer, she stopped, their grey skin revealed their grim situation. Further up the beach, she found another lost soul. Dropping her head tears rolled down her cheek. Am I the only survivor? She slowly turned around and headed back to her collection of supplies. 

Rummaging around in the boxes she found some rum, rope, bags of oats soaked in seawater and a few soggy small sails. I don’t have anything to light a bloody fire. The sun started to melt into the haze on the horizon. Maria grabbed a bottle of rum in one hand and dragged the sail up the beach with the other. She wrapped the sail around a couple of palm trees to block the wind. As night fell, she leaned back on the trunk taking a swig of rum.

***

The following day brought more of the same. As the day went on, she set up a camp further up the beach near the mouth of the creek. Sitting in the shade of the palms she stared down at what was left of her map. We have passed that island. This must have been the reef we hit in the storm. So, we are probably on this island or that one. The colony is on the island group behind this one. That’s too far to swim.

She checked the sun's angle. I have two hours till sunset. Not enough time to get up the hill and back today. She settled down for another night of darkness with no fire. Starring up at the stars the wind swirled around the bay. What is that? It smells like smoke. She sat up and inhaled deeply. Nothing, it must be my imagination. She laid down again. A few moments later, she smelt the smoke again. “I’m not going crazy.” She jumped up and scampered down to the beach. Scanning the darkness, the wind was running along the beach and the smell of smoke increased. Someone must have survived. She took off up the shoreline following the scent.

Standing at the top of a small rise her eyes widened. In the distance, a warm light flickered on the palms. She set off racing, slowing as she got to the steep loose sand. In among the palm trees, a campfire roared, fuelled by dry palm fronds. The silhouette of a lone figure sat hunched beside the flames. Her pulse pounding from the run skipped a beat. Pausing on the edge of the darkness she regained her breath. The stranger looked up in her direction.  “Who is there?” He called out.

The fire’s warm glow highlighted his face. Crap it had to be him. She reached for her pistol but it was missing. Damn. She stepped forward into the light. “Pierre. How the hell did you survive?”

“Maria.” He reached behind him grabbing a lump of wood. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Who else is with you?”

“No one, they are all dead. Thanks to your poor navigating,” he mumbled.

Great, he is alone. She moved her foot forward. “No further,” he growled.

“I’m unarmed. Can I sit near the fire?”

“Drop all your gear over there,” he pointed to a box behind a palm.

“What even my clothes?”

“Leave your undergarments on.”

My undergarments, how generous of you. She came back to the fire, “Sit over there. You try anything and it will be the last thing you do.”

Sitting silently, the warmth of the flames cut out the cool breeze coming off the ocean. Huddled with her knees near her chest, she kept an eye on Pierre. I’ll wait till he is asleep.

After a while, he laid down on the opposite side of the fire to her. His face towards her as he closed his eyes. He seems to be asleep. She slipped into the shadows and made her way around the fire. Leaning over his motionless body, she reached for his throat. With a short gasp, she stopped abruptly when a sharp point pressed into her ribs. “One more move,” he murmured. Holding her breath, she eased back. He rose at the same time keeping his dagger against her flesh. She dropped back onto the sand. 

He reached down grabbing a section of rope. Holding the blade to her throat, “Get up.” Taking her over a palm tree he tied her hands together behind the tree and then a couple of rounds around her body to the trunk. “I warned you,” he said before turning toward the fire.

“You can’t leave me here,” she called out.

Pierre's face reddened. He spun around locking eyes with her his face a foot away from hers, “Why shouldn’t I? You have lost me everything I have built over the last ten years. Ten years!”  He gasped, “My crew gone, my ship gone.” He dropped his head as his voice waned.

“I needed the ship to meet up with my brother in Bermuda.”

He clenched his jaw as he squeezed his hands into tight fists, tensing his whole body. Turning around he kicked a broken section of the ship, “Look where your thuggery has got you. Stranded on an island with nothing!” 

“Thuggery? You tied me to a tree.”

“Someone has to control you. As you are incapable of doing it.”

“Untie me,” she squirmed.

“When you decide to grow up,” Pierre laid down and closed his eyes. 

She muttered and yelled out numerous times over the next few hours.   How can I get off this island? I don’t need him; I must untie myself and find a way to escape.

A ray of morning sun shone onto Maria’s face.  Awake she scanned the camp.  The fire had gone out and Pierre was nowhere to be seen. She squirmed harder but the ropes wouldn’t loosen. That animal has left me to die. Clenching her lips she strained again, stopping when the rope cut into her skin.

“You can’t undo my knots,” came a voice behind her.

“Pierre, I can help you get off this island.”

He laughed, “Are you going to kidnap a seagull?”

She took a deep breath, “I have a map,” she mumbled.

He stepped around in front of her waving a piece of paper, “This one.”

Her eyes widened, she trashed about, “You bastard!”

He crouched in front of her, “I have found my dingy. If you want me to save you. You need to calm down and do as you're told,” he said calmly. “I’m leaving on the high tide this afternoon. With or without you.”

“You’re lying.”

He smiled and wandered off down the beach. “Pierre!” She called out repeatedly. With no answer, she dropped her head as her shoulders slumped.

A while later, he came back loading various items into a box. He went over to her gear sorting through what she had. “Get out of my stuff,” she yelled.

“With or without you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he carried the box towards the waves.

He came back and stood over her, looking out to sea. “High tide.” He gazed back at her not saying anything.

After a moment she shook her head, “All right. I will refrain from killing you. Just get me out of here.”

He untied her body and the rope from one hand. While holding the rope still tied to the other hand, he pushed her away from the trunk and tied the rope to her free hand. 

“You said you would untie me.”

Grabbing her arm he pulled her to her feet, “You never said anything about untying you. You said get me out of here.” He bustled her down the beach seating her in the boat. Pushing the boat into the lapping waves he jumped in and started rowing.

The boat bobbed up and down as he heaved away on the oars. Sea spray rained down stinging her eyes. After a while the island got smaller and started to merge into the tops of the waves. Pierre was heading for the larger island further away from another small island on the left.

“You’re heading the wrong way,” she said.

“Nice try. The colony port is on that island. I’m not heading for your mates anchored in the backwater.”

She dropped her head, her matted hair draped over her face. This voyage has not gone to plan.

After a few hours of rowing the island was still a way to go. He paused taking a mouthful of water, his arms draped over the oars. “Untie me I can row from here,” she said calmly.

“I will untie you on one condition,” he leaned towards her, “We row towards the colony island. When we get to the breakers I will jump overboard and you can have the boat for whatever your plan is.”

“How do I know you will stick to that?”

“Or I leave you tied up and row into the port.”

Gazing back at him she tried to read his face. Was he lying? She nodded, holding out her hands behind her. Wiggling the knife towards her, he said, “Swap seats, slowly.” The boat rocked as they changed positions. “Turn around.”

With her back to him, he grabbed her wrist and dragged the dagger between her hands. She rapidly untied the rope left around her wrists as she turned around. Looking up he had a pistol pointed at her, “Now row that way,” he nodded to the right.

“Where did you find that?”

“I don’t tell all my secrets,” he replied.

The waves near the colony island shore gently rocked the boat. A large galleon leaving the port came around the head. Its sails were not fully raised and the rigging was full of crew. Pierre stood up, diving into the waves, and started swimming for the galleon.

Maria stopped rowing as she sat stunned watching him disappear in the waves. He left me. Looking back over her shoulder the galleon was further out to sea but heading her way. I don’t want to be around when they rescue him. She started rapidly paddling in the opposite direction.

The End