Ocean's Justice by Demelza Carlton

light, it was impossible to judge time, so I didn't. More important was where I'd been lying – somewhere below decks and below the waterline, too, if the bulkheads made so much noise. I shouted, listening to the echo of my voice to judge the size of my prison. The echo was decidedly hollow – placing me in one of the large cargo holds.
    First, I had to find my way out. There were three possible exits – the hatch in the ceiling or the hatch in the wall that led to the lower deck, both of which were kept firmly closed most of the time , or through the hull – but that would sink the ship. The ceiling hatch was too high for me to reach – unless I stood on the shadowy cargo. Standing on the edge of the catwalk that ran along the side of the hold, I stretched my foot out toward the flat substance filling the hold almost to the level of the catwalk. My toes sank into what felt like wet beach sand until most of my foot was covered with the stuff. I wasn't sure how deep the hold went, but I didn't trust the mud that filled it to hold my weight. That ruled out the ceiling hatch.
    With considerable difficulty, I pulled my foot free of the sucking mud and headed along the catwalk toward the door hatch. This one I could reach easily – it was a door, after all – but there was no way to open it. A piece of metal in the middle told me that there had once been a valve wheel attached to the door for precisely this purpose, but my jailer had removed it before imprisoning me here.
    I hammered on the door, shouting until my sore throat stole my capacity for sound. Last night I'd screamed for joy as William made my body sing in ways I couldn't have imagined and today I paid the price – I didn't have a strong enough voice to scream for help. I pounded on the door for a few more seconds, but I received no response. That left only one means of escape – the one that could kill everyone else on board.
    Padding along the catwalk in my bare feet, I scanned the bulkhead that I knew was the inner wall of the hull, searching for its weak points. I'd seen where shells had pierced the Emden 's hull, almost a decade ago, but the greatest damage had been where the hull plates met and the joins had come undone in the force of shell impacts. This vessel's plates were riveted together and the round rivets stood out in long rows, like regimented barnacles. There was one place that the rows weren't regular – a metal plate, perhaps half the size of the door, covered a section of bulkhead. Water seeped out from the bottom of the plate, creating a slow trickle into the slushy cargo. If I wanted a weak point, I'd found it – for the vessel had already sprung a slight leak here. All I'd need was something to pry the rivets from the panel and I could swim out of here, right up to the surface.
    I searched the hold for some sort of pry bar that I could use and I found the next best thing – two shovels, attached to the catwalk with a length of rope, but the shovels themselves were partially submerged in the ooze. I pulled them out and set to work, untying the water-swollen hemp. It felt like forever before I'd freed them, but I had little else to do.
    Setting the edge of the shovel against the lowest rivet, I slowly leaned my weight on the handle. The rusty rivet snapped, increasing the trickle to a rivulet down the side of the ship. I examined the remaining rivets, which looked equally corroded. With my shovel, I'd make short work of this and then what? If I reached the surface, I'd still be climbing aboard a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean. At best, I could save William and some of the crew before she sank, but what if my imprisonment was at the captain's command with the crew's acquiescence? They'd take me prisoner once more on the lifeboat, in much closer quarters than here. Why had they locked me in here, anyway? Was it just one person, or the whole crew who'd locked me up?
    I barely knew any of these men. Even William, who'd loved me one