Spoiler! :
The docks were loud with the drunken calls of sailors enjoying their few days on land and the noise of working men trying to scrape enough money together to feed their families.
I was the obvious traveler. I didn't fit in with the tattooed, muscled bodies surrounding me. The slight frown I wore at the smell of rotting fish guts, sweat, and something one can only associate with the ocean only made me a bit more different. I tried not to touch anyone or anything as I weaved through the crowds of people with my large valise. Every few minutes I would stop and take my white handkerchief out of my pocket and wipe away the sweat beading on my forehead. It was only mid-morning and already scorching.
There were many grand ships docked, but few were leaving in such odd times. There had been many storms at sea this year at times when storms were rare. Countless ships were lost forever with their crews. Sailors are a superstitious lot without misfortune befalling them on the sea. I was scraping the bottom of the barrel to get out, thus it was only natural that the ship I would be sailing on would be lackluster. I was going to the tropics to study diverse plant life. I should have waited, but I was becoming tired of the monotony of classes, books, and study. A little adventure never hurt anyone.
When I finally arrived at the ship, I looked around for someone to help me with my things. When no one came, I set my valise down and began to study my mode of transportation. The first thing that caught my eye was the name, carved with great care: Poseidon.
The ornate carving stood out because the rest of the ship was in such disrepair. The sail had been patched many times over. Some ropes that had to hold some kind of importance were frayed, and many planks in the ship itself had seen better days. It was hard to envision that ship staying together in rough water. It was harder to see myself boarding that death trap willingly.
I looked away as a woman walking alone on the docks hurried toward the ship. She struggled with two suitcases that were rather large.
"I'm Victoria Meyers, your passenger."
I gave the woman a demeaning glare. “Excuse me, miss?” I barely managed to remain aloof as this Miss Meyers came closer.
A thin eyebrow rose at my accent, and pink lips, unadorned with any of those womanly things, turned down in a confused frown. “Are you not one of the crew?” Her cheeks were flushed with heat, and her light brown hair was dark with sweat.
“I'm afraid I'm waiting for a member of the crew as well,” I replied, taking in her two suitcases and noticed her lack of a chaperone. “Are you alone?”
“Oh, well...” She cleared her throat and set her luggage down heavily. She straightened and put on a great show of dignity. “Yes. Yes I am.”
I raised an eyebrow. “May I ask why?” A list of all the wealthy families that my equally prominent parents had been in contact with ran through my head. I couldn't recall a Meyers.
“No. No you may not ask. I am entitled to my privacy,” she sniffed and looked at the ship with the same dubious gaze I had.
“I'm Gregory Borrough,” I finally said to break a heavy silence and accepted the hand that was stiffly offered.
“What's your reason for boarding this vessel?” she asked, blushing as she realized she had asked the same question she had looked down upon.
I hesitated. Suddenly, studying diverse plant life was a horrid description for my mission. “Exploration,” I announced with a theatrical sweep of the hand. “I-ah- am going to study the... local inhabitants.” I smiled, impressed with my own improvisation.
Miss Meyers raised her eyebrows and seemed to give me another once over. “Natives? Really?”
I stiffened. “If that's what you wish to call them, miss.” I gave her a dry smile that may have come off as a bit forced. “Don't let appearances fool you.”
She laughed as her face reddened even more. “I wouldn't dare.”
“Mr. Borrough? Miss Meyers?”
This man was erinaceous in the most comical of ways. He had hair that stood up in disorderly spikes, which is, of course, why I make the connection with the hedgehog. His left eye was in a constant squint, his mouth in a constant sneer. As a sailor, he was sub-par in the appearance department. He had a sickly complexion and looked as if his muscle growth had been stunted. Except for the blackened teeth and the large snake tattoo circling a thin forearm, this man was extremely, disappointingly normal.
“Come aboard, and I'll show ye the room.”
Taking pity on Miss Meyers, I took one of her suitcases that was very light for such a large item supposedly full of womanly traveling things. I followed him up the gangplank and listened as he introduced himself.
“I'll be the first mate 'ere. Ya can call me Tobias. Ye’ll see more of me than of the captain. 'E's 'oled up in 'is cabin all the time now a days. If ye got complaints, come t' me. Prob'ly won't do nothin' 'bout it, but ya tried...” His conversation went on like that. He paused only to yell at some of the crew before heading below deck.
I let Miss Meyers go before me, glancing back at the men who were staring hungrily. I was smart enough to know what was expected of a crew such as this. Miss Meyers, apparently, did not, or she wouldn't have gotten on the sty in the first place.
We walked down a dark narrow corridor that made me more nervous than I already was.
Tobias opened the door at the very end. “Our last cabin,” he sniggered. “Ain't ya lucky? Crew's got ta sleep together, first mate included.” He moved out of the way, giving Miss Meyers a crude leer as he slithered past.
I peered over my companion's shoulder to see a minuscule room with a bunk bed dominating the space and a desk shoved into a corner.
“Excuse me, Tobias,” Miss Meyers called with a charming smile, “I believe you're forgetting to show us the other cabin.”
“Other cabin?” he laughed. “You think we have room for that, girlie?” And he was out on the deck.
She slowly entered, looking around at the fairly meager setting. “No funny business, Mr. Borrough.”
I scoffed. “Do I look like a man that would try funny business?”
. . .
We embarked an hour afterward. I got set up, claiming the desk as my own territory.
She looked at my supplies skeptically. “Are you really going to study natives?”
I ignored her as I slid my now empty suitcase under the desk and turned to leave the room. “I'll leave you to unpack, Mrs. Meyers.”
Feeling as though I should know the man who was commanding the ship I was now on for better or worse, I went in search of the captain's quarters. I began trying doors in the most organized way I could. Three were locked, hopefully holding supplies. I quickly closed a door to stop the rusty fork a red faced man sweating over a pot threw at me.
There was murmuring behind the fifth and final door. I was on the verge of opening it when something on the other side fell against it. Letting go of the doorknob, I listened as well as I could, hearing approximately a third of the words spoken opposite of the wooden door.
“Greenland... tropics, you idiot... Kill... Three weeks.” There were plenty of foul words I won't lower my standards enough to repeat. “Now get out of my sight!” someone howled.
I backed away as the door was flung open and Tobias stumbled out. I widened my eyes and turned my lips down into a surprised frown. I looked up and saw a man that was more impressive than Tobias but more worrisome by far.
His black, wild hair was pulled back, rolling down his back, between his shoulder blades in curly locks. His clothing was clean, though a bit worn, and made of fair cloth. He was clean shaven. His nose even turned up at the end, supposedly a sign of wealth that has been passed down through the generations. His shoulders were broad, his smile easy and friendly, his eyes glittering with some humor that had been missed by all else present.
A scar ran from the corner of his left eye, slanting in a slight diagonal, to cross over the bridge of his nose and end at the hinge of the jaw. A cutlass was sheathed at his side, the handle rusted. A pistol in similar straits accompanied it on his other thigh. The slight rise in his rather dingy stocking told of an extra blade.
Those details, so few in comparison with the positive traits, made the kind mask look unnatural for such a character.
“You would be Mr. Borrough?” he asked. His voice was pleasant. Maybe I was overreacting. What I had just heard through the door had shaken me to the point of paranoia.
I forced an awkward grin. “Yes. I thought I'd meet the captain of this fine ship.”
“Oh, come in. Make yourself welcome.”
As I passed, I caught a threatening glare directed toward Tobias and hissed words that I couldn't decipher. I turned to face him as soon as I could, slow to keep my back turned. “Mr...”
As the captain smiled again, I realized he even had a dimple in his right cheek. “Captain Jacob Bowen.” He crossed the room and sat at his desk, folding up a map quickly before I could see what was on it.
I glanced at him suspiciously and ignored him motioning toward a seat on my side of the desk. “You don't go up to control your men?”
“My good man,” he explained patiently, leaning forward, “I would love nothing more than to go up and bask in the sun and yell at my men, but, you see, I suffer from dysadaptation. Me on deck would be helpless, going from dark to light and back again. I'm much better down here, navigating and such.” He studied me. “Is there anything specifically you wanted?”
I opened my mouth only to close it again. Finally, I said as I bowed out of the room, “I just wanted to say that I'm sure I'll have a wonderful experience on The Poseidon.”
His blue eyes sparkled again. “I hope you do.”
. . .
I think, Victoria and I only became more than acquaintances out of the loneliness of the next two weeks we suffered through.
She was a good soul, able to believe anything given to her, until the facts were shoved in her face. She was the child that had believed in unicorns and fairies with all her being.
I was more of a skeptic. Even the Holy Bible was in question on my worse days. The fact that this ship and its crew were completely legitimate required a large stretch of my reality.
After a more in depth study my desk, she realized I wasn't talking of human natives. She didn't laugh. Apparently, it's all the same to her. Going to the tropics is going to the tropics.
For the lady she claimed and acted like she was, she had very little. She never got much out of her suitcases. She had only a small golden bracelet in relation to jewelry. I saw only three different dresses. I said nothing.
I found myself, enjoying her presence more and more. Even if she was leaning over my shoulder, trying to peer through the microscope as I was, asking questions faster than I could answer them, I was amiable.
Our conversations didn't leave our cabin though. When we took our meals in the abominable kitchen with Captain Bowen and whoever had permission to be below deck, I ate quickly and silently, watching and listening carefully, suspicious of everyone.
Victoria chackled with the captain and became great friends. She was thoroughly taken with his blue eyes and muscular physique and humor that was ready at all times. It was quite sickening to see how she fawned over him.
I stopped going to every meal. I think the food was upsetting my digestive system. Dinner was certainly missed, for, not only did I have to stomach bad food, but bad company; Captain Bowen, or as Victoria lovingly sighed, Jacob, was always there.
One morning, I got up early to view the sunrise from the deck. I was more relaxed by the vibrant pinks and purples than I had been the whole trip. My mind skirted around the fact that the air seemed to be getting colder instead of warmer and more humid. I ignored the whispered references to countries far from the hot paradise I thought I was going to. I didn’t connect Greenland and the colder temperatures. I was too afraid to recognize the truth at that point. When I returned to the cabin, Victoria was poring over my notes, somehow deciphering my scrawling print. My heart sunk. I had been keeping record of a number of the crew's actions, namely Captain Bowen’s.
She looked up with a frown. “This is ridiculous.”
I nodded curtly. “May I have my things back, Miss Meyers?” Yes, we were still stuck on the formal last name basis while she and Captain Bowen were referring to each other on a first name basis, being chummy. I just thought of her as Victoria. A little weak and pitiful, I know.
“Why are you even keeping track of this?” she asked, standing and backing away with my paper still in her hand.
“Miss Meyers, I need that back,” I said quietly, slowly cornering her.
“Jacob isn't some evil pirate.”
I sigh tiredly. “Miss Meyers, you are blind and delusional if you're going to tell me this whole entire ship is on an honest mission. Someone here is lying, and the most likely candidate is the beloved Captain Bowen who has continued to command this unruly crew without going upstairs once. Do not try to tell me some of your beliefs of Captain Bowen. He is a ruthless man, and I honestly do not care about what you think of him because it is glaringly obvious that you are enamored with the man. Now, give me back my paper.”
She stared for a long moment, and I began to regret my brash speech. “I-” She threw the paper to the floor and stormed out the room.
I blinked as the door slammed shut and shook my head. I spent the rest of the day studying my damned leitneria samples and making vague meaningless notes.
I skipped lunch and dinner, pretending not to worry about Victoria as I began to doodle in boredom, leitneria samples forgotten. I refused to go out as long as she refused to come in.
I was interrupted only once by one of her suitcases falling from its perch in response to a particularly rough wave. The clasp broke, and the contents were on the floor. There were two of her three seen dresses, some underclothing that seemed a little worse for wear, and a small pouch of a bag of coins. It was otherwise empty.
I frowned and pulled the other from its place as well, looking through it. That suitcase was substantially heavier and, when I opened it, full of worn books of every subject. I put her clothing back into the first suitcase and put it under the book filled one, hoping she wouldn't notice until I had had time to understand who she was and what she was doing.
One thing was certain. Victoria Meyers was definitely not a lady of high social status.
The light produced by the porthole faded into a dim gray and that into darkness, forcing me to light an oil lamp. Victoria had yet to return.
I sighed and surrendered to my pestering conscience, leaving the cabin and following the raucous laughter into the kitchen. I studied the scene silently, unnoticed by any of the men or Victoria.
A score of men surrounded Victoria, and she sat on the table, skirts pushed up past her calf, legs spread, red faced and giggling. The honest Captain Jacob Bowen stood beside her, roaring with laughter, pouring a clear liquid out of a clay jug into a wooded cup. He fondled her as she accepted the cup and made a heinous remark to his men.
I cleared my throat and tried to appear confident. “I’m here to escort Miss Meyers back to her room.” I leaned against the door easily and pasted on an unworried smile.
Victoria leaped from the table. “Oh, Mr- Mr… Oh, Gregory! It’s time you joined us.” She stumbled through the crowd.
I caught her before she fell and whispered, “I’ve got a surprise in the cabin for you, Victoria.”
She looked up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah. A great surprise.”
She looked back at the men. “I’ve gotta go, Jacob. Gregory’s gotta give me a surprise.”
I watched her traipse out before me and glanced at Captain Bowen. “That was a low thing to do,” I muttered and closed the door behind me. I followed Victoria to the cabin and sighed as she turned to face me.
Her eyes were glazed and sparkling. Her dress was wrinkled from God knows what, and her hair was down, the curling locks spilling down her shoulders.
I tried not to think of what could have happened if I hadn’t ventured out of the cabin.
“What’s the surprise, Gregory?” she asked with a huge grin.
I wrinkled my nose at her breath reeking from alcohol. “Go into the cabin.” I opened the door when she forgot to and gently ushered her in. “Now turn around and close your eyes.” I searched the room hurriedly for some tidbit to give her and finally reached for the silver locket my mother gave me when Father died. I took the small oval carved with flowers from my neck and put it on hers. “How is this?”
She looked at the locket for a long time and everything was silent. “This is beautiful, Gregory.” She looked up with misty eyes. “I've never had anything this beautiful.”
I shrugged and tried another smile as she faced me.
“I mean, just beautiful.” Her expression became mischievous, and she giggled again.
“It is a very nice example of an embolite. My valiant smile quickly became a frown. “Victoria…”
She shook her head. “Come on, Gregory. Let go for a moment. Have some fun.” She ran her leg up mine.
“No, no, no,” I murmured, backing away. I stiffened when she put her arms around my neck and leaned against me. “Let’s not,” I blurted and looked away.
She kissed my neck. “But, Gregory,” she sighed.
For a moment, one moment, I had a flickering of morals. “No buts.” I twisted out of her grasp and pushed her on the bed, a bit less than gentle. “I think it’s time for bed.” I blew out the flame in the oil lamp and climbed the ladder to the top bunk, clothing still on.
I lay awake that night listening to her drunken snoring.
. . .
She was horrified that morning after the initial stages of the day after a night of drinking and thankfully suspicious of the crew from then onward.
I accompanied her everywhere, and she didn’t disagree. I found my locket on my desk that evening, and we didn’t speak of that night in the cabin. I wasn’t even sure if she remembered it. I spared her my fliting that day. She didn't say anything about her broken suitcase, and I didn't inquire about her odd luggage.
Jacob became Captain Bowen and she Miss Meyers once again. I remained Gregory in private and she Victoria.
I became more deeply attached as the days went on but didn’t give her any clues toward my emotions.
Everything was fine for a third week.
I had to leave Victoria for a moment to go up deck and observe the weather and landscape to find out where we were headed. The sea was becoming choppier, and she was feeling ill. By this time, I had an idea and had come to accept the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing the tropics anytime soon with another person’s life in my hands.
There was a high scream that broke through the noise of the day to day activities of the crew.
No one moved or even recognized the cry for help.
I cursed and ran across, stopping only when a rather large, tattooed man blocked the door.
“Where ya think yer goin’? Tobias is only gonna play with the girlie some,” he growled.
I glanced around helplessly, looking for anything to fight this monster of a man off with.
“Gregory!” There was a cry accompanied by three harsh laughs and a smack.
I studied the man, partly sizing him up, mainly groping for an idea. “Listen, man…” I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “Your friends don’t want to touch her.”
He frowned. “What?”
I made a large act out of hemming and hawing. “Why do you think she’s on this godforsaken, termite infested raft?” I asked, having the shady outlines of a plan in mind.
The man had no answers.
I scratched my rough chin and gave him a scrutinizing look. “She’s got a disease…”
He stared at me blankly. “So?”
I groaned. “One of those diseases.”
His face lit up with realization. “Oh!” He turned and loped toward the cabin, stopping the process.
I was on his heels.
All three of the men stepped away simultaneously, though they probably all had their fair share of disease, and exited the room quickly, spitting foul names.
Victoria was curled up in a ball, sobbing quietly.
I closed the door softly, my concern for Victoria overriding my anger. I knelt beside her and brushed some hair from her face.
She jerked away.
“Victoria, Victoria, Victoria. It’s only me. They’re all gone. I’m here to help.” I tried again and was allowed a touch. I pulled her into an embrace.
“Get me out of this hell.”
I ran a hand through her curls and murmured, “Oh, darling, I’m trying. I’m trying.”
She followed me everywhere around the ship after that, clinging to my arm.
. . .
The last week was full of storms and rough water. I slept on the floor, afraid of being thrown from my bed while we were being tossed from wave to wave.
We were awoken by screaming late in the night when they were suddenly cut silent.
That morning, Tobias was found in the hallway, throat slit and belly sliced open. A cut ran from the corner of his let eye, across the bridge of his nose, to the hinge of his jaw.
Victoria ran back in the room and retched. I couldn’t take my eyes from the corpse for a long moment until Captain Bowen came out of his office, smiling, making it obvious is he was the inflicter of such a death. I followed Victoria.
No one but the captain ate the stew that night, not even the cook who always took some pride in his masterpieces of cessation. Victoria and I studied the meat filled pot and left, taking a hint from the rest of the silent crew.
She was hysterical, pacing the floor and muttering to herself.
I studied her for a long time at my desk and finally decided to distract her. “Why do you have all of those books in your second suitcase?” I asked quietly.
She stopped and turned to face me. “What?” Her face was drawn.
“Why do you have those books?”
She blinked. “You went through my things?”
“It fell on the floor...”
“I like to read. Why should you care?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You haven't taken a single book out of that suitcase.”
She huffed and sat on her bed. “Well, this trip has been eventful.”
I scoffed and took a different approach. “Why only three dresses and no chaperone? Why are you even on this godforsaken ship?”
She swallowed and studied her fingernails, stealing time. “I-I-” She bit her lip and finally smiled in defeat. “I suppose this story telling isn't my forte,” she sighed. “I'm not a lady of any financial or familial standing, but I-” She laid down, her legs dangling. “I need a job, teaching, preferably, and if I can get out of England, I have a better chance of finding one.”
I nodded, glad to have some information. “But why leave?”
She laughed bitterly. “Somehow it's my fault that I'm an illegitimate daughter of a noble and a marauder. It's a bit too well known for my taste. I could get a job if I left for London, but somehow, my heritage catches up with me.” She sat up dolefully and looked at me sadly. “You may rear back in disgust, laugh in scorn, look down your nose, or sigh in pity. Your choice.” Her face was red with embarrassment, here eyes shining with anger.
I stood slowly and moved to sit beside her. “None of the above?”
She studied me for a lie and nodded with a nod. “That one too.”
. . .
Captain Bowen started coming to the deck at night, yelling at his crew, fueling his schadenfreude, basking in the moonlight. We fell into a restless sleep to his laughter leaking through the planks.
The trip became a nightmare, growing worse with each passing day. When you thought it could get no worse, it always did.
. . .
Victoria shook me awake one night. Cries from above filtered through.
I was alert in a moment. “What?”
Her face was pale in the black. “Something’s wrong on deck. I think we should go up there.”
I nodded. “Okay. Let’s get dressed.”
“No. We need to go now.”
I studied her. “Victoria, what’s wrong?”
She looked around nervously. “Just come on.”
Lightening flashed, and thunder bellowed in reply. Wind made the sails flap uselessly. The crew was a disorganized mob, untying the lifeboat and setting it assail as Victoria and I looked on, understanding only after they were too far from reach.
Almost as if the sea had a grudge against them, a wave rose up before they had paddled four lengths of the boat. Poseidon had betrayed them. White foam gleamed against the dark sky and water, creating an army of Poseidon’s men, ready to take another crew to a watery grave.
We watched in horror, despite what we’d gone through because of these men. Victoria buried her face into my shoulder, and I pulled her to me. We heard the screams as they were swallowed. A few moments later, the water was calm for a second in time, and the lifeboat rose to the surface, upside down.
There was a crack somewhere within the ship, and we came to our senses.
Victoria looked up at me. “What do we do?”
I closed my eyes and whispered, “Pray.”
There was a sound that twirled with the angry wind, a wild screaming. I ran with Victoria, hoping for something, anything to get us off the compromised ship.
Captain Bowen was lashed to the wheel, screaming curses to Poseidon. A wave splashed aboard, spraying us all. Bowen screamed louder, "Don't think you're taking me away. I've gotta get my reward! I gotta get that cure!"
I took his cutlass and sliced the ropes. “We’ve got to go!” I shouted over the roar of the wind.
His eyes were wild, his hair unbound, his face a horrid picture of insanity. There was no dimple, no sparkling humor. Only ruthless delirium. He lunged at me grabbing my throat before I could react, still screaming meaningless words.
I waved the cutlass uselessly, feeling it bite into flesh and do nothing to stop the force crushing my throat.
Victoria must have done something, hit him over the head with a loose plank.
He was off of me, on the deck.
Victoria grabbed my hand. “We’ve got to leave,” she yelled.
I nodded, but we had no time to act. We were swept overboard by another wave.
We were separated in the confusion of water and air and water again. I was plunged into the frigid ocean. All the air was sucked from my lungs, and I had no idea of direction, of where precious air could be. I surfaced for a second and gulped down air, gulping saltwater instead. My hand brushed against fabric, and I grabbed it, hoping against hope that it would be Victoria. In an odd moment of stillness, I found a barrel and heaved my cargo upon it as I rested as well.
My heart swelled in relief. Victoria grabbed the barrel on the opposite side, sputtering.
. . .
Eventually, the storm calmed, and Victoria and I floated on the sea for three days. We spoke of family and regrets and death. We took turns lying on the barrel and sleeping. When we were both practically delusional from dehydration, a fishing boat came along, a lucky chance… a gift from Poseidon.
We were brought back to Norway, hospitalized, and cared for. Using my limited knowledge of the language, I eventually found a way to get back home, mainly by carriage.
. . .
We stood awkwardly, feeling as if the last three months granted more than a murmured goodbye.
I handed her my locket with a smile and agreed to help her put it on.
She smiled, banishing tears with a quick blink, and kissed me on my cheek. She was going to London for a season, sponsored by myself, to try and leave the nightmare behind, to try and have a life despite her heritage.
I hugged her tightly, unable to quite convince myself my feelings had dissipated. I watched her climb into the carriage slowly and look through the window. I put my hand up to the cool glass and smiled as she did the same.
“Gidyap.” There was the crack of a whip.
The carriage rolled away, and I stared, watching until it turned the corner at the end of the busy street.
I lasted a week. A damned week of staring at the gray skies of England and forcing myself to look through a microscope. At one point, I was so desperate for some contact with anything other than a plant, I tried to converse with my butler, but he would have none of it. Every book I picked up was put down. I took to wandering the halls listlessly.
I woke up one morning to realize that living through the last three months had done nothing to ease my boredom. Now, after getting used to the constant conversation provided by Victoria, I knew what true boredom was, and an occasional break from everyday life wouldn't ease this.
I was beside a carriage that day, watching my suitcase being strapped to the top. I needed more than a life of academics. I could pursue a career in botany. I could sit at home all day and support a family with my inheritance.
As my carriage rumbled after Victoria's, I smiled. I had come through one adventure practically unscathed and very alive. What was another?
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