And if I run away altogether?
Well, desertion is equal to mutiny, and I would be hunted to my death.
The violent swinging of my hammock wakes me from a troubled sleep. A storm is raging, and above me I can hear shouting as the crew try to keep control of the ship. I screw my eyes tight shut, willing it to be over. My father’s rules are clear. I am not allowed out of my room at night, for any reason, and each time a storm whips up while I’m sleeping I fear the ship will go down with me trapped and helpless below deck.
But as I lie there, determined to ignore the elements, another sound carries on the wind. The clash of steel on steel. Sitting bolt upright, I listen closely, and after a moment’s hesitation I pull on my clothes before grabbing my knife and heading for deck.
Another of my father’s strict instructions is that when we’re carrying out a mission I must remain in my quarters. For my protection. But I know nothing about any current missions, so I’m guessing we’re under attack – which never happens. I can’t imagine who would be brave enough to take on the Viper and there’s no way I’m going to hide in my cabin when our ship needs defending. And technically I’m not defying my father because he’s never directly specified what I should do in this scenario. Not that I intend for him to see me.
I’m greeted with chaos. Another boat is alongside ours, grappling ropes preventing her from escaping, as my father and his Snakes wage their attack on her crew. My mistake is painfully clear. For some reason no one’s told me about this mission, but there’s no denying we are the ones doing the attacking.
I shouldn’t be here.
Heavy rain blocks the light from the moon and we are pitching so ferociously I can barely keep my footing, but those locked in battle seem oblivious.
My father is on the quarterdeck fighting three men simultaneously, easily parrying their blows with his cutlass. He towers over them, his bald head gleaming even on such a black night. He’s never looked more alive. He’s toying with those poor lads, making them think they stand a chance, and before I’ve even glanced away he’s dispatched them all with efficient brutality.
Cleeve is pinned against the mainmast, weaponless, his captor raising his sword for the fatal blow. But Cleeve has no intention of going without a fight, and leans in to rip a chunk of flesh from his enemy’s throat with his teeth. The blood sprays so far it almost reaches me.
Horrified at such savagery, I recoil. I don’t want to be anywhere near Cleeve, and if my father catches me out here, then I might meet a similar fate. I’m about to escape back to my quarters when a flash of lightning illuminates a stack of crates, revealing a pair of wide eyes peering out from behind them. Toby. What is he doing out here? Waves crash on to the deck, mingling with blood to make it slippery, and I struggle to stay upright as I hurry over to where Toby’s concealed. Crouching down, I hold out my hand for him to take.
‘Come with me.’ I shout to be heard over the storm.
He shakes his head, too frightened to move.
‘It’ll be OK,’ I say. ‘I promise.’
For a moment I think he’s going to stay, frozen to the spot, but then he reaches for my hand and I’m able to help him out from his hiding place. We run towards the hatch and I use my body to shield him from the carnage around us. Toby hurries below deck and I’m about to follow him down the ladder when someone grabs me from behind. Strong, unfamiliar arms pull me backwards, and I kick and struggle to escape my assailant’s iron grip. From this angle I can’t get enough leverage to break free, but my knife’s still in my hand and so, bending my wrist, I slash it through the artery in his arm.
He immediately releases me and I spin to confront him. I find myself staring at his middle and swallow hard as I look up. He’s one of the biggest men I’ve ever seen, his bulging muscles solid as rock. Blood spurts from where I’ve cut him open, running down his arm to fall from his fingertips on to the deck, but despite the damage inflicted he seems unconcerned. He just looks angry.
He lunges towards me, and I dive between his legs, slicing my blade through his massive thigh as I go. He groans, but doesn’t falter, just turns round, swinging his sword at me, which I duck to avoid. My dagger can’t match the sword; I need him rid of it. And so this time when I strike I target his hand, landing a harsh blow on his knuckles. The sword clatters to the deck and I strike again, but he catches my wrist in his vast hand and holds me still. I try to free myself, but my feet won’t grip the boards, making it hard just to stay upright. Though my left hand is weaker, I swing it round to punch him, but he catches that wrist too and the pain of pressure on my burn almost causes me to black out. He has me trapped, the two of us suspended in a temporary stalemate, and though I’m the one holding a weapon, considering how much stronger he is than me, I know I’m going to lose.
The Maiden lurches in the high winds and a pile of barrels we’re standing close to catches my eye. The storm has loosened the ropes holding them and I can tell that they’re going to come undone any minute. Gritting my teeth, I use all my strength to maintain our deadlock, keeping us where we are so that moments later when the barrels break free from their restraints they hurtle in our direction. My attacker is distracted long enough for me to pull my right hand away but his grip over my burnt wrist is too strong, the pain too great for me to pull free, so I’m still standing beside him as the barrels plough into us, smashing us against the railings. This side of the ship is tilted so low in the water that momentum propels us further and before we can grab hold of anything we’re flung overboard.
The force with which I’m thrown crushes the air from my lungs and I can’t even scream as my body is tossed over the side. I steel myself for the icy embrace of the ocean, but it doesn’t come. It takes me a moment to orientate myself and realise what has happened. I am upside down, crashing against the side of the Maiden, held in place by my dress, which has caught on the rigging. My attacker wasn’t so lucky – the ocean has already devoured him. But my relief is short-lived as I hear fabric tearing under the pull of gravity and my weight. I frantically try to turn myself upright, but the ship is still tossing in the storm and the barrage of fresh waves pummelling my face threaten to drown me without my body actually being in the sea.
Panic rises in my throat alongside the salty water I cough up. No one knows I’m here. I gave no cry to alert anyone to my danger. And I realise that I only have moments before my dress fails to hold and my reprieve is over, the death I’ve always feared awaiting me. Making one last desperate attempt to grab hold of something, I only succeed in smashing my face hard against the Maiden, and blood mingles with the water forcing itself into my lungs.
Half blinded and choking, I barely hear the voice shouting my name and think I must be imagining it until there is a sharp tug on my dress, a hand clutching my leg, and still the voice is calling. With an enormous effort I twist my body up and see Bronn reaching down for me, his words drowned out by the pounding water in my ears. I stretch my arm out as far as I’m physically able until my skin touches his. It’s all he needs to haul me back up and in moments I am huddled on the deck, his arms round me. For a second everything is still. Then I remember myself and push him away. He lost the right to touch me a long time ago and despite the fact he just saved my life, I’m furious.