Infernal Waters

Two ~ Salaud

Hours later, and the hostilities continue.

The clinking of metal swords, and the blast of cannons reverberate around the ship. Though less frequent than before, it's enough to keep everyone on edge. 

We're no longer rowing, so the captain has obviously decided to fight this battle, instead of fleeing. The Spanish man in charge appears to have left to join the fight at some point, too.

I don't know who our attackers are, but I know that if they don't take slaves, then they'll kill us all. And if I wasn't so terrified, I would laugh at the irony that I find myself wanting to be taken as a slave. It beats death, I suppose.

Everyone is quiet now, as we wait for the silence of gunshots above deck. The Spanish girl left to join the group of Spaniards that have cooped themselves up in the corner, leaving me to my thoughts.

I'm frantically trying to think of an escape plan, should the attacker ship come out victorious.

I couldn't jump overboard, because even my more than adequate swimming skills wouldn't protect me from whatever sea monsters lurk beneath the surface. 

Yet, I couldn't fight my way out, either. What with having no weapons and all. I can't even remember what the top deck looks like. I was too busy crying to take in my surroundings at the time I was up there.

Maybe, I could steal a little rowboat and sail until I found land. At least there, the little survival skills I have could keep me alive until I found a way back home.

Except there is no home anymore, the Dutch pirates made sure of that.

Suddenly, the hatch leading to the upper decks swings open, and a scraggly man sporting blood-soaked rags hobbles in. He appears to be speaking so someone above when he shouts,

"Ahoy! Look what I've found!" He then turns to us and speaks with a sickening smirk, "Yer ours now, savvy?"

Then, another man similarly dressed as the one before, though considerably larger, pokes his head down the hatch.

"Bring 'em up then, lad!" The large many says.

"Aye, aye!" Yells the scraggly man.

I don't quite understand the lingo, but I think they're referring to us.

"You 'erd the man, up you go!" He yells, but when we don't respond he pulls out a pistol, which successfully gets us moving.

In single file, we shuffle out and onto the main deck.

The sight is enough to make me puke, but I can't show them any weakness if I want them to take me on as their crew.

The dead bodies of a once-strong Spanish fleet litter the area. Blood spatters have permeated every corner of the majestic ship, leaving little to be desired. 

Behind us, a group of men haul the bodies of the Spanish overboard.

We're herded into a circle by the pirates, who I've identified to be English. They threaten us with daggers and pistols, and everyone is so far compliant.

I'm no longer sure what they'll do to us, so I look around for an escape route. Though it's hopeless, because I can't see any small rowboats, and even if I could, I wouldn't know how to maneuver it.

I spot two pirates arguing nearby, and I can eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Ye should tell the cap'n, yer the quartermaster." Says one man, looking rather agitated.

"Which is why, young lad, yer gonna do it." Says the quartermaster.

"But, sir, he'll go mad! We already lost dozens o' men, now the surgeon?" He asks, his voice rising considerably. "He'll cut off me hand!"

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of a captain so cruel he would chop off someone's hand, simply for being the bearer of bad news.

"Hush, boy, and do as yer told. Now off with you before I cut off yer hand." He says, with finality. The quartermaster turns and walks off, leaving the boy looking frightened to the bone.

I'd heard that pirates were cruel, but if there's a pirate that's feared by other pirates, then this pirate is likely one I'd rather not meet.

Suddenly, a loud shriek draws my attention back to the rest of the slaves.

A woman is being dragged across the deck towards the protruding plank on the side of the ship. The pirate is unable to control her, though, and she manages to scratch him, leaving a thick trail of scarlet down his face.

This earns a laugh from the pirates around us. 

Savages.

The pirate, obviously embarrassed at letting the woman hurt him so, slaps her so hard across the face that she falls and slams her head onto the railing. The woman stops shrieking and begins to wail.

"Salaud!" I say aloud. Bastard! Regretting it immediately, I slap my hand over my mouth, hoping no one heard.

Unfortunately, the quartermaster does, because turns to me and places a dagger to my throat. His brutish, knobbly fingers dig painfully into my waist.

"What'd ye say, lass?" He hisses, his voice icy with displeasure.

He's so close to me that I can feel his warm, stale breath on my face. His dagger was digging deeper and deeper into my skin, so much so that I'm sure if he pulled away, it would surely bleed.

All my reserve, as well as hopes of an escape, are gone. I don't know what's gotten into me, but a sudden burst of courage, or even stupidity, causes me to act impulsively.

"Salaud," I say in a low voice that only he could hear, and spit in his face.