Chapter Eleven: Stormy Weather

Throp awoke to droplets of water hitting his face. He had fallen asleep against the mast and his neck ached from laying on his shoulder at an unnatural angle. The ropes cut into his chest and wrists where the pirates tied him up. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. Probably no more than a few hours, as it was still night.

No, he realized, the sun was rising, but blocked by a mass of dark storm clouds rolling across the sky. It was raining, but just barely. Tobiah stood at the bow of the ship, looking out over the water. Three other pirates were near the wheel, loudly trading jokes but paying no mind to their hostages.

Throp craned his neck uncomfortably.

“Princess… Agnes…? Are you two okay?”

“I have a dead rat in my lap,” Agnes said.

“What?”

“Nib brought her another gift,” the princess said.

“It’s disgusting,” Agnes said.

“Nib? Where is he, is he okay?” Throp asked.

“He’s sleeping inside my pocket,” the princess said. “Too bad you didn’t train him to chew through rope.” Throp looked back up at the sky. The wind was starting to pick up, whipping his wet hair into his eyes.

Tobiah called to his men.

“It’s coming fast!” he said. “Prepare to heave-to, westward! Jameson, Ender, weigh anchor!” The two sailors looked at each other, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You don’t think she can outrun it?” Jameson asked.

"Not with so much weight in the hold," Tobiah said.

“But-”

“You heard the man,” the one called Starnes barked. “Weigh anchor!” Jameson and Ender grumbled as they went below deck. Tobiah and Starnes watched them, then began moving quickly. Starnes went to the starboard side, pulled a knife from his pocket and clenched it between his teeth. He then climbed over the side, disappearing out of sight. Tobiah grabbed a length of rope and tied one end to the knob of the door of the stairwell that led to the lower deck. He tied the other end to a nearby railing, pulling it tight and effectively trapping the rest of the passengers below deck. Then he turned to Throp, pulling his short sword from its sheathe. Throp struggled, but there was no breaking the ropes that bound him so he pressed his back against the mast and raised his legs as high as he could, bringing them in and delivering a hard kick as Tobiah approached. Tobiah dodged and brought the sword down, directly between Throp and the princess, slicing halfway through the ropes that bound them. Throp seized the opportunity and lurched forward. The ropes cut into his chest and he heard sounds of pain from Agnes and the princess as they were pulled against the mast, but then the rope snapped and they were free. Their hands were still bound together in front of them and by the time Throp got to his feet, Tobiah was on him. Throp moved backward, drawing Tobiah away from the girls, who were frantically trying to release each other from the ropes. He backed into the railing. There was no where else to go.

“I mean you no harm, friend,” Tobiah said, although his sword was still raised.

“Okay,” Throp said through heavy breaths. “What do you mean me, then?” He was stalling, hoping the princess could come up with something, a distraction or even a heavy knock upside Tobiah’s head with a piece of rigging. Tobiah jerked his head to the left.

“Look over the side,” he said. Throp felt like it must be a trick, something to take his attention away so Tobiah could rush him, stab him through the gut or send him hurtling over the railing to a watery end. He finally dared to peek over and was stunned to see Starnes standing in a tiny dinghy and looking up expectantly. Throp looked back at Tobiah.

“On this ship you’re hostages,” Tobiah said. “On that boat you’re not. It’s your choice.”

Throp didn’t respond. He didn’t trust it. His eyes darted over to the princess. She and Agnes had managed to untie each other and were huddled together, watching Throp intently as if waiting for a sign. He looked back to Tobiah.

“Why?” he asked. Tobiah nodded toward the approaching storm.

“No time to explain,” Tobiah said.

“What about the rest of the crew?” Tobiah chortled.

“Think they’ll all fit?”

Throp glanced down again at the tiny boat.

“Now or never,” Tobiah said, impatience in his voice. Throp swallowed hard, hoping he was making the right decision. He held out his arms in front of him. Tobiah pointed the sword at Throp’s belly and jerked it sharply upward, severing the rope. Throp felt immense relief at his arms suddenly being free but tensed again immediately.

Tobiah sheathed his sword and Throp stepped between him and the girls, who rushed up behind him.

“What is going on?” the princess asked.

“Um…” Throp said.

“Ladies!” Tobiah said. “And gentleman, of course. I apologize for the horrendous treatment thus far and hope I can earn your forgiveness, but in the meantime, if we’re going to outrun this storm, we should be going. Now.” He made a little gesture and they all looked over the side.

“Oy!” Starnes called up. “Any day now!”

Agnes stepped up and Tobiah grabbed her around the waist. She led out a small shriek, unused to being handled in such a way.

“Arms around my neck, if you don’t mind,” Tobiah said. “Hold on tight.” He climbed over the side with Agnes hanging on and shimmied down a rope and into the dinghy. Throp looked at the princess, who was chewing her lip.

“Is this the right thing?” Throp asked her. She shook her head.

“I have no idea,” she said. But it seemed too late now. Agnes was in the boat. A sudden lurch indicated the anchor had been dropped and nearly sent them tumbling. Soon the other pirates would be coming back up and discover the secured door. It probably wouldn’t hold them for long.

“Come on then!” Starnes yelled.

Throp let out a sigh. They had no choice.

He turned to the princess, reached out, stopped himself.

“Um,” he said, then reached again, awkwardly putting his arm around her waist. She rolled her eyes and pushed him away, then climbed over the railing and easily made her own way down to the dinghy. Throp followed, keeping his eyes shut as he climbed. He was strong enough to climb down without trouble, but the looking down and seeing nothing but space between him and the water made him dizzy. He reached the dinghy and before he could even get his bearings, Starnes and Tobiah were cutting the ropes that tethered the dinghy to the Trident.

The dinghy was small. The five of them barely fit and Agnes and the princess huddled in the shallow bottom.

Take this!” Tobiah said, handing him the end of a rope. “Tie it around that cross thwart!” He pointed to a beam of wood that ran along the width of the boat and served as a seat. Although the dinghy had row locks, the oars were sitting in the bottom of the boat and Starnes was rigging a small sail to the short mast. Tobiah knelt at the back, one hand holding up a compass and the other adjusting the rudder.

“Where are we going?” Throp asked.

“Questions later!” Starnes yelled. “If we don’t outrun the storm, it’s all for nothing!”

The sail caught the growing wind and soon they were out of sight of the anchored Trident. Tobiah watched the horizon intently, consulting his compass every few minutes.

“There, land ho!” he finally cried. Throp could see land rising up, a shadow on the horizon. He couldn’t feel relief though. The storm had caught up with them quickly and the land seemed so far. Lightning lit up the sky and Agnes shrieked with every bolt. The sea was brutal, the waves growing by the minute until the entire bow of the dinghy was rising up out of the water and slamming back down hard, jarring the occupants from whatever they had found to cling to. The dinghy began to take on water and Starnes tossed a bucket to Throp.

“Bail her out!” he yelled over the howling wind and they both frantically tried to toss water from the bottom of the boat over the side.

“Hang on!” Tobiah yelled. He was clinging to the mast. “We’re almost there!”

Throp could see the cliffs ahead of them. He could barely make them out through the pounding rain, but they were close, closer than he’d realized. He looked back at Tobiah just in time to see a huge wave cresting behind him. Throp grabbed for the mast just as the wave slammed into the dinghy but lost his grip and felt himself being carried away.

He hit the water and seemed to fall forever before he remembered to kick his legs. He had only a second to take in air as he broke the surface and then another wave washed over him. He kicked and swam, trying to keep above water, desperately searching for the dinghy, but all he could make out in his disorientation was rain and the occasional flash of sky. He caught a glimpse of the cliffs and struggled to swim in their direction. He tried to take a breath but another wave washed over him. His lungs and muscles burned as he fought to break the surface again. His vision darkened as he lost consciousness and the last thing he saw before blacking out was the lithe figure, wrapping its small hands around his chest.