one was really sure where we were going. Was it that place called the New World? But why? What lay in store for us?
We had no idea.
When I threw up, Garanwyn reassured me it wouldn’t last. (It didn’t.)
If someone died in the night, he’d tell me to thank God I was still alive. (I did.)
When I fell into depression, he told me freedom was just around the corner. (It wasn’t.)
I told him about my leg irons. He told Slade, who slept next to him.
Word came back that I should go up on deck that very night to locate the keys to the padlocks. It was not a request.
My ankles were now as thin as a duck’ s. How I willed them to swell up.
For the first time in my life people depended on me—not to collect eggs or stop milk from boiling over or to sweep out the yard—but to save their lives.
I slid out of my irons and crept up the hatch, watched by everyone who could swivel their heads to see me.
The sailors had become careless. It was unlocked.
I emerged onto the deck, my heart punching its way out of my chest cage.
Waves splashed against the ship.
The sky was the star-spangled blue of my homeland.
It was so peaceful and beautiful up there.
A full moon was passing behind clouds, providing enough light for the task at hand but not so much that I was in spotlight.
A single guard on watch was curled over a coil of thick rope. Snoring. Reeking of rum. They all did.
I crept over to a teenage boy so brown he really was almost blak. His lips seemed to spread from ear to ear. Several weeks earlier we’d watched him accidentally drop a sail while up the mizzenmast. The Chief Mate immediately ordered a flogging and he was tied to a post and got thirty strokes.
He must have been assigned the night duty no one wanted.
Keys to our chains dangled from a cord hanging around his neck. My fingers quaked as I went to work on the knot. Suddenly he shifted position and fell from the rope, landing with a jolt on his back. He lay there, dazed, looking up at the sky, blinking drunkenly. I had darted behind the rope and lay on my front, peering around it. He turned over onto his side and went back to sleep. The keys were now trapped underneath him. Damn! I thought of the community below stairs. I could not let them down.
I began to search the ship for something that could break chains or a padlock. I darted about in a panic. My hands became my eyes as they delved into baskets and boxes and came up with buckles, rigging tools and, finally, a mallet and a marlinespike.
It might just work.
I dashed hell-for-leather back to the hold with my implements of liberation and gave them to Slade, who worked with the spike, carefully, quickly.
Garanwyn ordered me back to my shelf, just in case.
I lay back down, put my feet back into the irons.
Each man in turn was unshackled. Four, five, six, seven. They worked smoothly, silently, no longer half-dead but invigorated.
I prayed so hard that they would succeed.
I watched Slade, light-footed, swift, make his way up the steps with the poise of a snake about to strike. My Garanwyn was right behind him.
Just as they reached the top, the hatch opened and they came face to face with two sailors coming down to pick someone for a midnight fuck.
They hadn’t even bothered with muskets—smug gits.
The moon shone down on Slade’s and Garanwyn’s faces. Frozen.
All hell broke loose. The sailors shouted for assistance. Our men scrambled up and overcame them.
We heard a call to arms, and the crew sprang into action. Feet trampled up above, muskets were fired, the hatch was slammed shut, and a few of the men tried using the mallet to hammer it open. It was useless. They tried to reshackle themselves. That was useless too.
Curses were flung down at us through the gratings. The skin would be filleted off our backs. We were to be buried alive. No food. No water.
Twenty armed sailors entered and took out all the men who were unshackled.
We fell silent.
And stayed that way.
Four days passed
We had no idea.
When I threw up, Garanwyn reassured me it wouldn’t last. (It didn’t.)
If someone died in the night, he’d tell me to thank God I was still alive. (I did.)
When I fell into depression, he told me freedom was just around the corner. (It wasn’t.)
I told him about my leg irons. He told Slade, who slept next to him.
Word came back that I should go up on deck that very night to locate the keys to the padlocks. It was not a request.
My ankles were now as thin as a duck’ s. How I willed them to swell up.
For the first time in my life people depended on me—not to collect eggs or stop milk from boiling over or to sweep out the yard—but to save their lives.
I slid out of my irons and crept up the hatch, watched by everyone who could swivel their heads to see me.
The sailors had become careless. It was unlocked.
I emerged onto the deck, my heart punching its way out of my chest cage.
Waves splashed against the ship.
The sky was the star-spangled blue of my homeland.
It was so peaceful and beautiful up there.
A full moon was passing behind clouds, providing enough light for the task at hand but not so much that I was in spotlight.
A single guard on watch was curled over a coil of thick rope. Snoring. Reeking of rum. They all did.
I crept over to a teenage boy so brown he really was almost blak. His lips seemed to spread from ear to ear. Several weeks earlier we’d watched him accidentally drop a sail while up the mizzenmast. The Chief Mate immediately ordered a flogging and he was tied to a post and got thirty strokes.
He must have been assigned the night duty no one wanted.
Keys to our chains dangled from a cord hanging around his neck. My fingers quaked as I went to work on the knot. Suddenly he shifted position and fell from the rope, landing with a jolt on his back. He lay there, dazed, looking up at the sky, blinking drunkenly. I had darted behind the rope and lay on my front, peering around it. He turned over onto his side and went back to sleep. The keys were now trapped underneath him. Damn! I thought of the community below stairs. I could not let them down.
I began to search the ship for something that could break chains or a padlock. I darted about in a panic. My hands became my eyes as they delved into baskets and boxes and came up with buckles, rigging tools and, finally, a mallet and a marlinespike.
It might just work.
I dashed hell-for-leather back to the hold with my implements of liberation and gave them to Slade, who worked with the spike, carefully, quickly.
Garanwyn ordered me back to my shelf, just in case.
I lay back down, put my feet back into the irons.
Each man in turn was unshackled. Four, five, six, seven. They worked smoothly, silently, no longer half-dead but invigorated.
I prayed so hard that they would succeed.
I watched Slade, light-footed, swift, make his way up the steps with the poise of a snake about to strike. My Garanwyn was right behind him.
Just as they reached the top, the hatch opened and they came face to face with two sailors coming down to pick someone for a midnight fuck.
They hadn’t even bothered with muskets—smug gits.
The moon shone down on Slade’s and Garanwyn’s faces. Frozen.
All hell broke loose. The sailors shouted for assistance. Our men scrambled up and overcame them.
We heard a call to arms, and the crew sprang into action. Feet trampled up above, muskets were fired, the hatch was slammed shut, and a few of the men tried using the mallet to hammer it open. It was useless. They tried to reshackle themselves. That was useless too.
Curses were flung down at us through the gratings. The skin would be filleted off our backs. We were to be buried alive. No food. No water.
Twenty armed sailors entered and took out all the men who were unshackled.
We fell silent.
And stayed that way.
Four days passed
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