Chapter 1: The Crossing, 1705
The waves broke along the large merchant ship, as the wooden hull let out a loud groan. With each wave, the men became more and more anxious. The constant motion felt as if we were not on this earth, our only reminder was the dim moonlight. Everyone aboard had their reasons for leaving the old country. Some wanted a fresh start; others wanted to make it big. I was here for a much different reason. My mother always told me, everyone deserves a second chance. I was lucky the judge felt the same way. I was sentenced to life in a penal colony, but it’s not like I had much choice. I was very young and very angry. Maybe that’s no excuse... but the gallows was not how I wanted to end my life. Not while I was still young.
I awoke to the sound of seagulls, crying to the sailors on the upper decks. The chain and ball secured onto my foot was the Empire’s way of saying I was still their prisoner. I was their property, and they wanted to take no chances. But why would I try to escape? The only thing around me was the ocean itself. Being on a ship is like being in jail, but with the chance of drowning. I stood up from the dusty wooden floor, and stretched my aching back. The lice in my hair created an unbearable itch. The more you ignored it, the stronger it became. I leaned over and looked into a bucket of water. The reflection shocked me. I saw a man with a long, thick, black hair, rough beard, bushy eyebrows, pale skin and a dirt ridden face. But the eyes… the dark, dreadful eyes haunted me the most. It was the look of a criminal. Henry Bale. Me.
A few hours past and a growling sound had begun to emerge from my stomach. I was starving and my captors didn’t seem too fond of feeding me on a regular basis. Probably a part of the punishment, seeing is how I cheated death. I noticed a large barrel and a few smaller boxes on the other side of the ship. What treasures were locked away inside the boxes? Was it worth the risk? I didn’t care. I looked from side to side; making sure no one was nearby. Being on the lower deck of the ship had its advantages. I quickly grabbed hold of the chain, and dragged the ball closer to my target. As soon as I was in reach, I pulled the top of one of the boxes. To my delight, there sat an array of biscuits, carefully wrapped in brown cloth. I ripped open the cloth, and shoved the crusty biscuits into my mouth. My thirst grew with every bite.
After I ate at least a week’s supply in biscuits, I closed the box up and moved onto the barrel. With a pop of the cap, fresh water poured out onto the deck. I took no time in gulping it down, satisfying my parched throat. I then pushed the cap back into place, and dragged my iron ball and chain back to my corner of the ship. Satisfied, I sat down on my tiny, wooden stool and rested my head back onto the side of the ship. My eyes shut to the familiar sound of the waves.
The sound of bells rang out across the ship. At first I thought it was a dream, but it was all too real. The bells singled the crew to prepare for a large storm, or at least that is what I thought it meant. I use to work as a teamster in the docks in Plymouth; it was an honest job but had poor pay. They use to do storm drills every so often. They rang a bell and I’d watch as the sailors aboard the docked ships run around doing what they did best; shouting. But those drills never compared to the real deal. Our ship began to rock rigorously, left and right. The cargo started to shuffle around, and my seasickness grew with each banking turn. I felt a tug on my leg as the ball and chain rolled about on the deck. A few minutes in and the thunder had arrived. How chaotic it must’ve been up on the main deck, with the wind and rain flying at your face, and the waves spilling over onto the decks.
Water began to pour in from up top. I never should’ve eaten those biscuits, I thought to myself. It soon steadily rose as the waves crashed over the top of the ship. I needed to get topside, and fast. I picked at the clamp on my foot, and tried to pry it open. No luck. The bolt was screwed in too tight. With a snap of a rope, the cargo to the left of me was free from its only bondage. A wave hit the ship with such force that the cargo and everything in it rolled over top of me. I yelped in pain as the cargo crushed my leg. The ship let out a long creaking sound as the waves toppled over it.
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