Rebels

Ch. 3

A few days passed, but the storm still wasn't over. It was so strong that the row next to Jack had lost their paddle. It had snapped the paddle right out of the men's hands. The overseers brought the whole row to the lower deck, where they hulled supplies up to the main deck. Jack figured he'd rather perform his job than their job. Hulling the necessities was a much harder job, depending on whatever it is that the men were carrying. They had to go up two staircases. Now that would be torture to Jack.

Now the sea had gushed its waters down to Jack's ankles. The water was so cold that it had made his feet grow numb, even through his shoes. That had only made matters worse. Under these conditions, he didn't know how long it would take until he'd pass out completely. Just a few more days to go, and then hopefully they would reach land. It was likely that the trip would be delayed, however.

"This ship is losing prisoners." Arin mumbled.

As Jack looked at the other people around him, he noticed that now barely any of the benches were full. They had lost quite a few. "I'm going to make you an offer." Jack uttered under his breath, for the overseer was nearby.

Arin looked at him out of the corner of his eye, not sure if he was interested or not.

"I've made a fool-proof plan to escape once we reach land." He stopped talking. The overseer stood at the end of his row, staring intently at them all.

Jack continued to paddle against the waves, straining what was left of his muscles. He avoided eye contact with the overseer as best as he could, staring at the swirling water between his ankles.

The overseer grabbed the man sitting next to Jack by the neck. It was the same man from previously who was frantic about being there, rambling on and on about his heavy debt; the same man who had gotten whipped because of it. The man's head lolled back, revealing his eyes closed. The man was dead.

The overseer noticed this and dragged the man off the bench, causing him to fall into the water.

Arin couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Shouldn't you put the man in a more private atmosphere?" He took his hands off the paddle.

Jack cursed under his breath. He understood Arin liked to rebel for the better to show he hadn't given up the fight, but Jack couldn't understand why. All Arin was doing was causing himself pain. Jack understood Arin knew what he was getting himself into, but he still couldn't understand his ways.

The overseer took out his whip. "You just earned yer'self five lashes."

Arin's knuckles turned white. "Go ahead." He looked forward, his eyes fogging over. "I haven't felt pain in a while." Jack squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't like the sound of the whip digging into Arin's skin. He didn't think anyone could like that sound. That is, anyone but the overseers.

Jack ran his fool-proof plan through his mind once again. When they reach land, the prisoners would be taken out in a single filed line, chains around their ankles and wrists. Jack knew that part for sure. He remembered when he was escorted out of the ship the last time he was caught. The chains around his ankles were digging into his skin within each step he took. When the bidding time came, no one had wanted him because he was apparently "too dirty." That was what one of the bidders has said to him. Then, the guards had been nice enough to not even take him along in the boat. He had to scourge the city for a year and a half before learning reliable places to hide for his most recent attempt to rob a bank. The plan was explicit, but Jack had forgotten to include noonday and the crowded streets. If the street was empty, he was sure he would have been able to escape successfully.

The overseer finished with the punishment and moved on, heading towards the front of the ship. Jack didn't dare speak to Arin. He didn't think Arin would be able to. Yet he risked a glance. Arin's head was down, his hair covering the majority of his face. He had placed his hands back on the paddle, but his rows were weaker than before.

Jack looked away. He had been there plenty of times and had learned his lesson. Arin was by far stronger than Jack is now, that he could figure out.

Outside, heavy pellets of rain slammed into the ship. On the deck above, the crew was shouting fiercely numerous commands at one another that originated from the captain. Jack had one thing to say to the captain. He wanted Arin to help him out with that part of his plan, but now he wasn't so sure that that would be possible. Nevertheless, he wished to see the captain. He knew that when he wanted things, one way or another his wish would be granted.

Jack felt bad for the unlucky ones down below. They had to suffer the worst of them all. They didn't have any overseers down there, but the water surely found a way down there. Three years ago, Jack had been forced down there. Sure, no storm had come, but it was hard enough. The prisoners would have to hull barrels and necessities up and down the stairs to the main deck. Not only was that hard for Jack, but at night the prisoners would have to sleep shoulder to shoulder on the ground. Creaks from the wood shifting would ring out all night, and there was no way Jack could get some sleep for that whole voyage. He supposed that rowing was a bit harder, seeming as you couldn't stop. He got it easy three years ago.

A soft tap came at his left ankle, which was underwater. As he pushed the paddle forward, Jack looked down to see what it was. The man whom the overseer threw into the water now laid at his feet. The man's head bumped into Jack's ankle, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. Jack noted that once in a while the water would pick the man's body up and move him a few inches before setting him down. Jack thought this was creepy and refused to look at the man's face. Instead he perked his head up and pushed the dead man away with his leg. He hoped that the corpse wouldn't be him by the end of the trip.