Chapter 3

Johnny led me down the staircase as the light from the fading sun disappeared. I almost rolled my ankle as the splintered stairs tipped under me. Brown paint dotted my hands from where I caught myself on the soggy wall. I rubbed it off, the lead specks laying in my dress. The temperature decreased drastically and I found my body shaking.

The hallway was dark, lit by only a few lanterns hanging sporadically along the walls. Their faint light danced along the corridor, bathing the doorways in red-orange colors. At the end of the hall, a door was propped open and men were pouring out. Their sharp laughter was light and they seemed to have trouble standing.

"Are they drunk?" I asked Johnny, peering around his shoulders.

The sinking feeling that had taken over my body from the moment I entered the wharf increased as men came closer.

I bent my head as they passed, but I could still hear their jarring remarks. Comments about my body and appearance were normal, especially in an unlawful setting. What I couldn't stand was the blinding smell of alcohol that lingered after them.

"You know the answer to that question." Johnny opened one of the side doors and motioned me inside. "This is your room."

He turned to leave throwing his next words over his shoulders, "Don't leave your room or anger anyone. If you're lucky, someone will bring food tomorrow."

I opened my mouth to argue, but another man appeared in the hallway and I bit my tongue. Entering the room, I closed the door and searched for a lock. There wasn't one, but the small chain was attached to a pulled-through lock.

I chewed on my lower lip and tried to find something to block the door with. Other than the small cot shoved in the corner, a crate functioning as a makeshift nightstand, and the burnt stump of a candle, there was nothing in the room.

Discarding the candle, I pushed the box along the room. The wood on wood sound caused me to flinch as it rested against the door. With the way the floorboards shook, I would hear anyone coming, but the extra layer of protection was reassuring.

I sat down on the bed and the springs inside the mattress squeaked. Nothing on this ship seemed to be in working condition and the smell that came from the mattress wasn't helping my grotesque opinion of the vessel.

With my heart slowing down, the exhaustion I had been fighting for hours caught up and I could feel my eyes closing on their own. I leaned back against the stained mattress and my head sunk into the flimsy pillow.

Despite the smell, the pillow and mattress were more comfortable than the carriage I had ridden in. Without the constant rocking of the room, it was almost pleasant.

I sighed, allowing my eyes to close. One step closer to freedom. These last few days had been the most stressful in my life and I knew the next week would only be worse. The anxiety that had plagued my mind and body for the last few months finally hit its breaking point and I could feel the wet tears drag down my cheeks.

My chest shook as the powerful sobs cut off my breathing. The dry gasps were met with the empty room as I covered my eyes with my hands. For the first time, I had no one I could take to and confide in. Isabella and I could never talk again, the danger too great for the both of us.

Darkness closed around me and I found my consciousness melting away into the calming embrace of sleep. The darkness was a welcome release and I enjoyed the time spent unconscious, unable to think, feel and fear.

My dreams were hollow as usual, but the feeling of lifting and dropping woke me up as the bed turned into a hard floor.

I rubbed my sore back as I stood. Thunder and lightning sent a shock wave through the ship and reverberated in my legs. Waves pounded against the hull, tall crests mercilessly assaulting our craft. They sounded like pounding fists demanding entrance to a locked house. Hopefully, the water remained outside.

I watched the water seep under my door as the sea thru mountains of water over the rail and flooded down the stairs. As the boat rocked forward and backward, my tide followed it, flowing under the door.

I sat down suddenly as my breakfast began making its way up again. My head buzzed and each wave rolled its way into my temple, increasing the nausea I was fighting. I had never been one to succumb to motion sickness, but I was beginning to understand the phrase 'sick as a dog'.

With one motion, the remains of my last meal launched across the room. The foul smell of vomit filled the small space and I hurled again. Without food, my throat closed around empty air, trying to dispel any remaining nutrients.

I shot up as the door pounded, the hinges pulling against the force of the blow. I couldn't be sure the sound wasn't coming from the ocean, but the voice that followed confirmed my fears.

"Miss de'Laure, open the door. The weather turned and it's not safe to be below deck."

The voice sounded kind, a boyish voice. Against my better judgment, I opened the door a crack, peaking out. I couldn't see much in the dim light, but it was a man a few inches taller than me.

"What would you have me do?" I asked, moving between my feet as the water soaked my fabric shoes.

"It's not safe down here, you should come to the upper deck. If you stay near the stairs, that would be safe as well." He leaned closer and I closed the door, just a sliver showing the hall. "The ship is going to sink, I can feel it. We can get dingy and escape. Spain is a few hours back, our chances would be better to try now rather than later."

"I cannot go back to Spain," I rattled.

"Then come to the upper deck." The man held out his hand and I closed the door fully, putting my back to the wooden entrance.

"Please, leave me be. I don't wish to go anywhere with you."

The hallway went silent, but I didn't hear any footsteps. The next moment dragged out, the roar of the storm and the beating of my heart in my ears.

"Then I'll talk. You don't have a reason to trust me, but I know the Ocean." There was a thump and the sound of boots moving. "My name is Jax," the voice came from my knees and I bent down to hear the next words. "I've worked around the water since I was sixteen. The men on this boat are not the nicest, I only started with them two days ago. With how the captain is handling the storm, we'll be dead in a matter of hours. He has no respect for the Ocean."

"And why should I let you convince me to leave. I'm safe in here."

"No one else is here and by all accounts, that makes me your only ally."

"Why would you help me escape then. There's no reason you couldn't slip away silently in all the fuss," I reasoned. "Taking me would draw attention to yourself. Why would you risk it?"

"Because if I show up back at port having abandoned the ship, I won't be able to sail again," his voice was silky and I found myself believing him despite my better judgment. "If I show up with the daughter of a noble having saved her, I can continue living my life."

"You can't tell anyone that I'm a noble," I hesitated, weighing my options. I wanted to trust him, especially if he was right about the ship's stability. "I left my title. If you take me back, I won't be a lady."

The man didn't reply for the longest time, but eventually, with a click of his tongue, the stranger laughed. "I would still be saving a woman, you can say I pulled you out of a wreck, no one else able to make it to a lifeboat."

"Your manner of person is not elevated with these words. If anything I should trust you less," my fingers drummed on the door, matching the incessant beating of my heart. "Yet, I trust you and your words."

I opened the door enough for the young man's head to fall back and look up at me. He couldn't have been much older than me with a dark, sailors complexion. He looked like trouble with a solid brow and full lips that made him look like he was constantly smirking.

"I knew you would, no one can resist the truth I weave," he said, pulling himself up along the doorframe.

"If that was true, you'd hardly need my help in escaping."

Jax just shrugged and turned his back to me. I took its meaning to follow him and I did, not sure it was the right decision. There was a knot that seemed to be tied just below my lungs that made me want to follow, to believe everything he told me.

Against my better judgment, I let it.

We sloshed through the water as it gradually began rising. It was silent like the moment just before you awake when the night lingers.

"What is your plan?" I finally asked when we reached the staircase that led to the upper deck. "You must have a plan, some way to distract the sailors while you steal a raft?"

"Haven't thought that far ahead," Jax admitted. "I was surprised you agreed to join me so readily. I suppose I'll just have to talk to the men."

From outside, there was a flash of lighting and I could feel the wood below my feet tremble. Jax's prediction seemed more pressing than I had thought.

"You'd better be a good conversationalist or were both doomed."

"You have no idea," Jax grinned. "Stealing a dingy should be easier than scores of things I've done."

"Stealing a dingy, are we?" The rat-like voice of Johnny rang out from behind us. "Gonna hop the ship and leave us here to die?"

"You should be above deck, not squatting below." Jax took a deep breath, sneering. "Tapping the rum bottles, too."

"I won't tell anyone, but you have to bring me with you." Johnny looked over Jax's shoulder to me, his eyes predatory. "You've already got one passager, it'll hold another."

"Maurea," Jax called, his voice heavy, "go above deck to the opposite end where the stairs that lead to the helm. Stay there until I come for you. I have something to discuss with this man."

I did as I was told, moving up the stairs, but not past them. Something in his tone made me pause. There was a danger like he was warning me more than Johnny.

Both men were speaking, but I could only hear the brash shouts from the older one. Jax was quiet, reserved.

In the time between two ticks of a clock, Johnny had gone for his fishing knife only for Jax to draw his own, clearer blade. It didn't stay clean for long.

My hand flew to my mouth as I backed up, tripping on the final few steps. For all the horrors I had seen, the knife stuck in a man's shoulder was not one of them. The amount of blood was blinding.

Johnny was lying face up at the bottom of the stairs, his head having been clubbed and Jax was staring up at me, tension in his eyes. He started to move forward, one hand extended to me, mouth open and I ran.

My feet pushed against the wooden boards as I left the two men behind. I had been a fool.

The last thing I heard before the storm overtook me was a worried voice shouting my name.