Days At Sea

Chapter 8 - This Boat Is Our Chariot

Dante observed with amusement as the four of them struggled to board the ship. It was a somewhat shabby vessel of average size, neither unsteadily tiny nor impressively vast, and it seemed it would hold a crew of maybe 30 men, more if they shared beds. Despite its unassuming size, it was in excellent condition- someone skilled in ship repairs had shown the boat much love. 

Louie and Celeste had gone first, and it was Isabella's turn to struggle as her ribs screamed out in protest at every extension of her arms, each twist of her middle. She could not quite disguise the agony on her face.

"Barely wounded, you said?" Dante commented, his arm resting on the side of the ship. Isabella scowled at him. Hugo touched her waist gently, making her jump.

"Let me help," he offered.

"With what arm, genius?" Isabella's scowl met her next victim, and Hugo stepped back as if burned by her ferocious gaze, deciding that it would be better to let her struggle unaided.

With great effort and groaning, Isabella found herself on the deck. It had seemed like a lifetime since she had been on this familiar terrain, and painful memories came flooding to the forefront of her mind as she familiarised herself with life on a ship. She lost herself in the past as the two men struggled to heave Hugo onto the deck, but soon enough, Hugo (accompanied by a great deal of swearing) was standing beside her. Under his waistcoat, she saw the inflamed slashes across his back and felt nauseous. His fingertips touched her arm as gently as a breeze, and she felt him sigh.

"It's an odd feeling, being back on a ship," he stated softly, gazing out at sea alongside Isabella. She didn't reply, instead leaning forward to rest her forearms on the ship's side. In the blackness of the night, the ocean looked like an inky world that hid many mysteries beneath its dark surface.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to be on the ocean again. It's rather like reuniting with an old friend." Hugo sighed, copying her stance and leaning forward: the ocean wind tousled his hair, if possible, making it even messier. Isabella smiled at this, although the smile turned sad as she thought over his words.

"The ocean wasn't my friend. I was her prisoner."

Hugo turned his head to look at her. Rather than turning to meet his gaze, Isabella continued to look at the sea, the great expanse of waves blurring into a single sheet of murky darkness.

"It's different this time. We're warriors, and this boat is our chariot." His electric gaze forced her to look at him, and their eyes met.

"Why are we fighting so hard?" Isabella asked him solemnly. The glee of securing a place on the ship was gone, and old feelings of loneliness and suffocation threatened to consume her. Hugo stared at her, his eyes wide.

"Bella. We're fighting for each other. We're fighting for those that can't fight for themselves." 

An image of Celeste played across her mind, the girl's innocent face and large, haunting brown eyes staring at her.

A cough snapped them out of their daze, and they turned around to see Dante grinning at them. Louie and Celeste looked around the deck in amazement. They weren't nearly as familiar with ships as Isabella and Hugo were - as a matter of fact, Isabella doubted that either of them had ever set foot on a jolly boat, let alone a proper ship.

"Pretty nice, aye?" Dante said. A few oil lamps were still lit, but it was too dark to make out the finer details of the ship clearly. Isabella stroked the wood of the boat, pondering her answer, but Hugo spoke first.

"It's great. Blimey, it's been too long since I've been aboard a ship. It feels like home." He grinned widely.

Laughing, Dante clapped Hugo on the shoulder, which made the shorter boy jolt slightly.