Treasure of the sea |Lesbian story|

CHAPTER IX

As soon as I was left alone in my new cabin, I locked myself in. Mr. Dinnington, who from what I understood was the quartermaster, had seemed quite courteous, or at least he did not have the crude and uncivilized ways that so characterized the rest of the crew. He didn't address me much, but he made sure I didn't miss anything before leaving me alone. He had retrieved my clothes from my old quarters and kindly placed them in the trunk. I lingered for a moment, staring out the porthole. The water flowed smooth as oil and the sun shone high in the blue sky. It was a hot day; the Galatea's floorboards creaked from time to time. Somewhere on the horizon there was Charlestown and my family. They could not least imagine what trouble I had gotten myself into. But perhaps it was better that way. They'd find out the day it all worked out. Or so I hoped.

The cabin had two rooms: the bedroom and the bathroom, where there was a basin filled with clean water. I undressed and put away my dirty clothes. I took a sponge and rubbed it hard all over my body. I'd never felt so dirty in my life. The bar of soap I was using smelled of lavender and soon that fragrance flooded the quarters, overpowering the foul smell of sweat and urine on me. When I dressed in clean clothes and finally felt good about myself, I threw myself onto the bed.

I was trapped on that ship now. And who knows what those people would have done to me if my parents had refused to pay the ransom.

They would kill me.

I sighed. No, mine was just a pessimistic thought. I didn't have to worry. My father would do whatever it took to give me my freedom back. Would they blame me? Will they be disappointed in me? Will they point fingers at me, accusing me of being the cause of their misfortune? Could they do that? No, of course not. My mother wouldn't have cared about money and neither would my father. He had been born poor and would thought that just as he had made his fortune once he could make it again.

"Miss!"

I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the porthole above the bed. The sky was getting dark and the first stars of the evening were appearing. Someone was knocking on my door.

"Miss, open up," the voice repeated.

I had fallen asleep.

I struggled to my feet and headed for the door. The man outside kept pounding, relentlessly.

"What do you want?" I asked, uncomfortable and with a lot of insecurity in my voice.

"It is the Captain who sends me. She says you are to dine with her."

"I'm not going out," I retorted. "Tell her I have no intention of getting out of here."

"The Captain imagined you might respond in this way, so she told me to tell you that if you refuse to obey her you will not eat for the rest of the week."

The threat frightened me. Although I had endured the hunger quite well, the idea of going a few more days without putting anything down made me uneasy. My body needed food, I could feel it clearly.

I clicked the lock and opened the door slowly. A tall, broad-shouldered man with skin as dark as coal squared me from head to toe, his thick curly hair falling over his eyes. He was a stocky man. His hollowed cheeks were marked with various scars, some deeper than others.

A slave...?

I swallowed. "I know the way to the Captain's quarters, there is no need for you to accompany me."

"The Captain insists that I do," he replied.

I went out, closing the door behind me. I followed the man to the Captain's cabin, without a word. I found Arenis seated behind the table carefully decorated for dinner. Various dishes were placed in the centre, just waiting to be tasted.

"Thank you, Naade, you may go now," the Captain said, addressing the man who had escorted me there. As he left us, the woman turned and observed me, "Well, I admit you seem more consonant with etiquette now than you did a few hours ago. Are you feeling better?"

I didn't answer.

"Come, come and sit down."

I took a few steps forward, reaching the chair farthest from her.

"Are you always going to convince me with threats?" I blurted out, coldly.

She smiled, kindly, immediately understanding what I was referring to. "Well, yes. I knew you wouldn't like the idea of fasting so much."

"Sooner or later the threats will stop working," I asserted.

"I don't think so, so far they've never let me down."

I cast a glance at the food, full of eagerness. Chicken soup, meat, potatoes and some cooked vegetables.

"Some wine?" asked the Captain.

"I don't drink alcohol."

"Oh, really? And why is that?"

"It clouds the thoughts."

"It seems almost an affront to refuse such a fine wine. It has an extraordinary aroma, a truly intense fragrance. It was stolen directly from the hold of a French ship."

That said, Arenis got up. She placed before me some soup, a slice of black bread, a small portion of vegetables, and a piece of meat.

"That's enough for now. Eat."

"Why are you rationing it?"

"Your wasted appearance indicates serious signs of malnutrition. I do think you are suffering from seasickness, Miss Adler, and you have had the bad idea of temporarily abstaining from food. You must eat, but it is not good to overdo it after having been fasting so long."

"Why do you care?" I asked again.

"Why shouldn't I? You are my golden goose. Your well-being is paramount to me."

I huffed, irritated. I sank my spoon into the broth and began to eat. As soon as the food touched my lips, I realized how hungry I was. I ate eagerly, swallowing the not-quite-chewed meat, almost choking on it. My stomach felt like an endless chasm. It wouldn't be easily satisfied. In fact, as soon as I finished everything Arenis had given me, I felt like I wanted more. I looked at the trays and reached for more meat, but Arenis held me back with a firm "No."

Irritated, I looked at her. The woman had an innate ability to get on my nerves. I lowered my gaze to my empty plate, as if the food might appear before me on its own.

"All right," I hissed. "Can I go back to my quarters now?"

Arenis peered at me and, to my surprise, nodded, "Go."

I rose from my chair and took wide strides toward the door, not looking back.