Chapter 7 - Daylight

My stomach cramped and my head throbbed. The sun was blinding, and the ship swayed from side to side like some kind of fun theme park ride. Only, this wasn't fun. This was hell.

It didn't feel as rough up here as it had in the room with all the crates and barrels, but that was like saying that fire wasn't as hot as the sun. Accurate, but they would both melt your skin off.

I heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching with determination, but I didn't care. I was still hanging over the railing, dry heaving now. My knees had buckled beneath me, but I hung on, staring out over the water like it was the last thing I might ever see.

"God's wounds! Who opened the bloody hatch?!"

It was the captain, thundering towards me like a man on a mission.

So no shift change then... the fucker just left me down there because... Well, fuck knows why. A sick joke? A power play? A—

I retched again. This time, something came out... bitter yellow bile.

The footsteps stopped beside me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up at him. Not yet.

"It was me, Captain," a man replied casually somewhere behind me. "Mouse was complaining he heard ghosts in the hold. I had to show him there was no such thing. Then this one came tumbling out. She a stowaway then?"

A rough hand grabbed my elbow, hoisting me up to my feet.

My eyeballs felt like they were swimming in my head, but I managed to take in the sea of faces that were all focused on me. Some were wide-eyed, some disapproving, some curious, but none looked welcoming by any stretch of the imagination.

"Lads, this is," the captain paused, then he looked down at me expectantly. "What's yer name, lass?" he asked.

"Morgan," I whispered, wincing in the bright sunlight.

“Morgan?” he echoed, sounding confused.

His eyes inspected me like he was looking for something.

"Is that yer Christian name? Or yer surname?" he asked, still looking at me with uncertainty.  Then he tilted his head, his tone sharpening as he watched me suspiciously. “Or are ye just tryin’ to be clever?”

I was about to answer when another wave of nausea hit me like a freight train, and I turned and retched over the railing and into the sea again.

“Well, then,” the captain pressed on, leaving me to it. “Lads, this is Morgan. She’s a prisoner on this ship, and I expect a pretty penny for her ransom. So, keep yer hands to yerselves,” he warned, his voice hardening. "I don’t tolerate raping on this ship. Anyone tries it, they’ll swing."

"A prisoner?" another voice replied as I dry heaved again, my stomach twisting.

A prisoner? Raping?! The words slammed into me like a punch to the gut and my knees buckled harder. What the fuck was going on here?!

I looked up at the captain, desperate to throw a million questions at him. Desperate to understand. But we hit another wave and my stomach lurched, causing me to dry heave again.

He'd been smirking though. His arms folded across his chest while he watched me with a mixture of disapproval and smug satisfaction.

What an asshole.

"Lemme... Lemme off," I whispered, my voice weak and hoarse.

The captain's smirk widened. “Sorry, lass, that’s not how this works.”

He gave me one final glance, shaking his head slightly in amusement. “Back to work, lads!” he called, dismissing the crew with a wave.

"What should we do with her, Captain?" a voice asked.

"Leave her be—unless ye fancy scrubbin’ sick off my deck," the captain replied nonchalantly.

I shot him a sideways glare, too weak to retort, my hand gripping the railing like it was my only lifeline.

Then he walked away, leaving me there, slumped over and barely keeping it together.

The world around me swam. My head throbbed, my eyes burned, my stomach cramped, and I felt like I was going to die.

I don't know how long I lay there, draped over the railing as the ship rocked me back and forth. The nausea never subsided and the sun beat down on me. But no one spoke to me. Not a word of comfort or encouragement. Not a glass of water, not a bucket, not a fucking thing. They moved around me like I wasn't even there.

Soon enough, I felt myself drifting in and out of consciousness. It was actually a relief and I found myself willing myself away, searching for the peace that I prayed sleep might bring.