Episode 1: Rough Seas
With the ship rolling from starboard to port and back, a feather in a hurricane, Sam tried to push away the thought that today might be the day that this cursed voyage finally claimed her life. Not that today was actually much different than the prior thirty days she’d been out at sea, but the dark sky and ferocity of the waves churned by the storm felt different.
Samantha Love had left New York and boarded the vessel with hope, but this wretched month had drained it from her. Captain Allen, never one to sugarcoat things, made it clear that whatever initial knowledge that he’d had about their destination, he had no idea where they were going at the moment. A desperation had settled over the ship’s inhabitants, at least the ones still alive.
Taking a deep breath, Sam stood up from her bunk, steadying herself with a hand on the wall. She stilled herself for a moment to make sure she had the balance to walk without winding up slammed against the wall or onto the damp floor. The touch of any surface of the boat risked splinters, either tiny slivers or shards big enough to cause gashes. With as much as the boat, likely fifty years old when it came to the colonies, shed chunks of itself, it was a wonder it didn’t sprout more holes by the moment.
It took her only a few seconds to find her sea legs and begin moving for the port door. The small room was a luxury and probably one of the reasons she was still alive. Unlike the men’s bunk area, she was lucky enough to be alone. Being the only woman on the ship afforded her that benefit, which in turn allowed her to stay a little cleaner, and a lot more out of sight, both of which gave her a better chance of survival.
She trudged up the steps and prepared herself for the wave of cold salt spray that greeted her as she emerged onto the deck. While the wind wasn’t as hard as she expected, Sam still stumbled a little as she walked, her steps short and deliberate. She squinted from the wind and cold as she tried to find her target.
“Get back inside, child!” Daniel O’Leary yelled over the waves slapping against the wooden hull. Gray clouds formed a dome overhead, blocking what should have been a mid-day sun.
Of the ten members of the crew, Sam liked Daniel the best. He could still be loud and forceful like the others, but he wasn’t cruel. His personality clashed with his physical characteristics. He towered over her, and most of the men, at six feet six inches tall, and easily carried 300 pounds of mostly muscle. A long, scraggly beard added further to the effect.
Sam stopped next to him at the starboard railing, grabbing it with force to steady herself. “I needed to see you.”
“You don’t need to be out here. It’s a rough day if you can’t tell,” he said.
A gust of wind blew up Sam’s skirt, revealing the ragged tights she wore underneath, so she batted it back down with her hands. “We’re getting closer, right?”
Daniel raised a bushy black eyebrow at her. “Answer is the same as yesterday. Cap’n says so, but I don’t know.” His massive body shifted with a hard roll to port. “He tells me which way to go, I fix the sails.”
Eternity awaits.
Those were the words that lured her brother on a boat like this one. Convinced him to leave his home and his growing blacksmith shop. And now he was luring Sam away from safety and into the unknown.
As the wind lessened and the rhythm of the boat smoothed, John Cane swiftly walked toward Daniel after emerging from the forward galley.
“Aye, mate,” Daniel said lightly, but Sam sensed a change in his posture.
Cane stood almost as tall as Daniel, but he was thin and gaunt, and never let a smile pass on his face. Like everyone else at this point, his clothes were dirty and tattered, pants that had once been russet colored were much closer to black. Living life on a galleon had been hard on them all, and Cane made it no easier with his constant aggression. Sam had spent most of her time in her quarters, at least partly with a goal of avoiding Cane. She hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, but she’d heard whispers that more than one life had been lost to his hand since the beginning of the trip.
“Fuck you, mate. We need to land this ship or no one is going to be left to disembark except me,” Cane said with a growl.
“What is…” Daniel began to ask.
Twenty feet away at the aft hatch, three men burst out, crashing against each other as they ran toward the group. All three were yelling, a roaring sound that eclipsed the volume of the ocean and was no more decipherable of meaning than the waves. Sam tried to determine who they were, but with their contorted faces and the lack of light, she could only guess their identities. One of the men appeared to have blood on his face.
As they approached, Cane took a stride forward and pulled a pistol from his waistband. He cocked back the hammer with one hand as he raised the muzzle head high to the aggressors rushing toward them. His knuckles turned white with strain holding the banana shaped gun. “You’re going to regret this, boys.”
Daniel stepped forward and put his hands out, though he did not place his body in between the two warring parties. “Now hold on.”
The men screeched to a halt, sliding an extra foot on the wet deck. They teetered and ricocheted off of each other, but remained upright. “He ate the last of the jerky. We’re all starving and that bastard ate the meat.” Sam finally recognized Toddrick, one of the passengers looking for a new life. In their few interactions, he seemed less detestable than most.
“Let’s be reasonable,” Daniel said, looking from the three men to Cane.
But it was clearly too late for reasonableness.
“Fuck you,” Toddrick said. He and the other two charged forward, pushing Daniel to the side. The larger man clearly did not resist getting out of the way.
Cane took two steps back until his heals hit the side railing. The three foot tall barrier kept him from going over the edge, but any further avenue for escape was gone. “Stay back.“ He thrust the pistol toward them.
The men paused and flinched at the threat. Any thought to de-escalate quickly fled from Toddrick, though, and he took another step forward, leaving his partners behind. Cane didn’t hesitate, squeezing the trigger and firing. As the muzzle jerked up and backward with a flash, Toddrick lurched to a stop. A bright red circle formed in the middle of his chest, contrasting the dirty white of his shirt. He put his right hand in the puddle forming there, pulled it away and stared at the dripping blood between his fingers. Cane stepped forward and to the side, put a hand on Toddrick’s shoulder and the other on his belt, then pulled him toward the rail. Without a word or sound, Cane tossed the man over the side of the ship.
“You bastard,” one of the other men yelled, but began walking away.
Cane smirked and took a step toward them. “I’ll eat what I want. If you don’t like it, you can join your friend.”
The men disappeared down the deck and then the hatch.
Sam realized she’d quit breathing while watching the scene play out. Her ears were ringing from the gun blast too. Sam had no impulse, however, to run. Neither did Daniel, though he did step in front of her, blocking her direct line of sight to Cane.
“What the hell, man?” Daniel asked, his hands out at his sides in question.
Cane shrugged, the gun in his hand waving. “Hey, he asked for it. And we’re going to have some real problems if you don’t get us to the island now. Everyone has had enough of being on this boat and we are running out of food. More people are going to die and I’m not going to be one of them.”
Daniel nodded and Sam didn’t like the far away look in his eyes. “I know. Just try to hold it together. Cap’n thinks we’re close.”
Cane made a grunting noise and then walked away. Sam knew that there would be no further exploration of justice for Toddrick’s death. It was probably self-defense, but there was no law here, and she suspected it would be the same at their destination. If they could make it there alive.
