Infernal Waters

Seven ~ Hugo

Trying to decipher the captain's thoughts seemed as difficult as trying to find one's way through a labyrinth. In fact, I'm beginning to think that the latter would be easier.

After he had finished his speech on the rights and responsibilities of pirates, covering everything down to my share of the profits, he had me clean and bandage his wounds.

This encounter was extremely awkward, to say the least.

The whole time, he had refused to sit, making it difficult for me to reach the wounds near his neck.

And the way his posture would stiffen every time I came close, or his breath hitch whenever I touched him, made me feel as if I was doing something wrong at every step. As if I was hurting him.

To top it all off, he ushered me out of his quarters when I was only halfway done, assuring me he could finish off the bandaging by himself.

Irwin, as it turned out, had been waiting outside in the hall the entire time, to take me back to my cell. Back to making purposeless piles of hay dust.

There was little action to be had above deck, rendering the only skills that are keeping me alive, useless.

Worst of all, I was beginning to feel the effects of sickness.

The water that was collected from the Spanish galley had spoiled within days, which meant that the only form of hydration on board was a nauseating cocktail that the pirates liked to call grog.

The taste wasn't terrible. Though, the idea of the combination of watered down rum, limes, and algae was slightly off-putting. And seeing as I was in no position to be picky, I pinched my nose and gulped it down in one, where it sloshed around in my empty stomach, making me sick.

Suddenly, a voice in a hushed tone startles me out of my stupor.

"Miss," The voice says.

I turn to the cell door to see the man that I had treated not too long ago standing there, clutching his stomach.

Instantly, I rush over to him.

"What's wrong?" I ask, frantically. If he dies, the other pirates will have even more reason to hate me.

"Nothin' miss, just wanna thank ya'," He said, sheepishly.

"Oh, I see," I internally sigh with relief. I sink back down into a seated position on the floor, and he mirrors my action.

"I'd be a dead man, if it weren't for you," He says, smiling bashfully at me through the iron bars.

"Well, count your lucky stars, then." I reply, sending him a weak smile.

While I was operating on this man, I hadn't had the chance to look at him properly. Though, now that I have, I see that he is not a man. Really, he is just a boy.

That makes me wonder what wicked forces came into play in sending someone so young to this godforsaken vessel.

He looks at me through his eyelashes with his wide and innocent eyes, full of gratitude and sincerity.

And the way he spoke - pinched, though ending his sentences on a downbeat - was slightly strange to the ear. Yet, it only added a certain je ne sais quoi to his character.

"I owe you my life, miss." He says.

To this, I wasn't sure how to respond. No one has ever owed me their life before.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

"Hugo, miss."

"Please, call me Ana. And you certainly don't owe me anything." I say.

"But I do, miss Ana. And I have to repay ya' somehow, or else me mum, god bless 'er, would hang the jib from heaven." He says, in all seriousness.

Puzzled by his choice of words, I ask, "What on earth does that mean?"

"It means frown, like this," He says, then uses his fingers to stretch his face into an exaggerated frown, and I giggle at his most adorable behaviour.

"If you really want to help me out, Hugo, there is something you could do."

"Anything, miss Ana."

"Do you know where they keep all the food?" I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper. If anyone were to overhear what I was about to ask, both Hugo and I could get into trouble.

"Sure do. In the ballast, right near the crew's quarters." He says. Personally, I've no idea where this is, though I trust that he does.

"And do you think you could get your hands on the supplies there?"

At this, I'm sure he catches on to what I'm hinting at, because he looks up at me with a mischievous grin.

"'Course I can, miss. Though, I must tell ya', the rats do like to have a nibble. So food does go missin', now an' again."

"What a shame," I say, feigning empathy.

Standing up, he says, "Then see ye tomorrow, miss Ana."

I wave goodbye, and he is off, though not before sending me another cheeky grin.

Having nothing else to do, I lay back down.

I close my eyes and smile, because I've finally made a friend.