Faye bit her lip from her hiding spot in the cargo hold as she tried to evaluate her options. Thirst grated against her throat, her mouth a desert as hunger gnawed hard pain into her stomach after days of stowing away. She was secreted in the cargo hold of the very pirate ship that had sunk the passenger liner she had been riding.
It really was just her luck, to get attacked after all the hard work studying, schmoozing at the Inns of Court, fighting to hide her sex from the judgement of the men who would keep her out of her chosen field of work. They knew her as Alan, a promising young man, who had been taken under the
wing of the prominent solicitor, Sir Doyle after being orphaned in the last war.
She had been on her way to her first position as a legally registered barrister, hopeful for a new start, her briefcase in hand, breasts bound, and her mousy brown hair cut mannishly short, when the raid began.
Now, instead of settling into her new residence, she was wrestling with the decision to try and sneak into the kitchens and steal a scrap of food, and risk revealing herself to a crew of pirates who had given no quarter to anyone on her ship. She couldn’t make it much longer without water, at least. She had no way of knowing when the ship might land again, might give her her best chance of escape, but the least she wanted to do was perish of thirst while hiding behind a box.
If they didn’t land tomorrow, more likely than not, she’d be at death’s door, and she had no faith that that was going to happen. She had to take the risk and she had to do it now, before she lost her nerve and the sun began to rise again.
Her joints protested when she got up, stiff from the lack of movement. Faye toed her shoes off— the click of her oxfords wasn’t particularly sneaky— and proceeded to the door of the cargo hold. It wasn’t as though she had gotten a very good look at the layout of the ship, but she could guess that the galley, like the cargo hold, was nestled deep in belly of the ship.
The corridor she emerged from was pitch black, the only light being a silver of moonlight that produced the outline of the ladder up to the deck on the wall. She felt her way along the walls, carefully, feeling around for a doorknob. Her hand brushed against a brass handle and she pressed her ear up against the door.
Inside, she could hear soft snoring— the crew quarters. She definitely did not want to go in there.
The next door was silent, and Faye took a deep breath, readying herself. She opened the door, and slipped inside. Again, the room was pitch black, but she could smell cooking grease in the air. Immediately, her stomach growled in response. Driven forward by her stomach, she stumbled around the galley, blind, her hands outstretched to feel for her surroundings. She found the iron stove, cold, the cooking counter and— a barrel of water.
“Oh thank the Lord,” she murmured, and hastily scooped a handful of water into her mouth. She soaked it up less like a human having a drink and more like a dried out sea sponge. It wasn’t enough. It was clear and cold and she had never tasted anything better in her life. She got to her knees to try and funnel water to her mouth, then abandoned all dignity and began to drink from the barrel directly, plunging her face into the precious stuff to suck as much of it in as possible.
When she had drunk her fill, she pulled herself back, panting, feeling the water slosh into her stomach. She could go longer without food but if she could just find perhaps, a scrap of bread or cheese, she could last even longer. She groped around, hoping for a pastry left wrapped on the counter, or a piece of hard jerky, anything, but before she could find anything, the door of the galley swung open with force. “Wake up,” a clipped male voice called. “Captain wants a midnight meal.”
Faye clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out, ducking behind the counter. A light entered the room, a flickering lamp that cast just enough light for her to see that a spot behind a crate in the corner might work as a hiding spot.”Ughh,” a new voice said, sleep sodden. There had been another man in the room this entire time— the cook must sleep in the galley. The water in her stomach sloshed uncomfortably, as she crawled quietly to her hiding spot. “Fine. I’ll bring something up. What’s he still doing up?”
“The usual,” the first voice said. “Worrying. Bring something up for two.”
“Got it, Mr. Alontree,” the cook said.
Faye held her breath as the door began to swing closed again, leaving her one man to deal with instead of two. But then, Mr. Alontree paused. “What spilled all that water?”
A bolt of terror closed Faye’s throat. The water. She was still dripping wet. She curled up tighter into her spot as the lamplight began to draw closer to her.
“There’s a trail,” said the cook. “Look.”
Footsteps drew closer, Faye squeezing her eyes shut as though it would keep her from seeing the incoming pirates. A hand seized her by the wrist and yanked her out of her hiding place. Her eyes flew open as she cried out, stumbling to the ground. Above her stood two men. The first was clearly the cook, his clothes stained with grease, clearly surprised to see her. The second, Mr. Alontree, had her by the wrist. He was devilishly handsome, Asiatic in origin, perhaps, mixed. He would not have been out of place among the masterpieces of religious art as the model for some depiction of Lucifer.
“A stowaway?” he demanded, with an incredulous smile, shaking her. “When did you get aboard?”
To find out what happens next, click here to purchase “Pirates Make Her a Free Use Hole” for only $2.99!
Leave a Reply