Risk

The first chapter of Not as Brave as You

Sicily Morales stole a steeling breath of ocean air. Fixing her gaze on the ship bobbing before her, she felt a rigid tremor go down her body. Palms sweaty, knees weak, she shielded her vertigo with an undeniable toughness, the determination that nobody would see her choke. She had a job to do. She knew it in the way they needed her, in the way her father’s presence was felt rather than heard behind her, in the way Anthony bumped her shoulder as he stepped back, the way she wanted to back out. The prow of the ship was eager to let her go.

She jumped.

Sicily’s body hit the water. Instantly it was all around her. She spun, not sure which way was up. Water pummeled her from all sides, a large beast surrounding one small being. Finally, she broke the surface. The large waves hit her forcefully. She was thrown back twice, blinding fingers of water running down her face, her breath hard to find before she gasped in a copious amount of air and kicked furiously. Her red skirts, the same bloodred as the flag on her father’s ship, tried to drag her down. But her legs were not weak, her lungs not unaccustomed to the weight of her dress. Onward she swam, a small red drop in the great sea.

Some time later, she had neared the enemy ship. Once small in the distance, like a wooden toy, now it loomed, arrogant.

“Help!” she cried, treading water as salty waves splashed against her face, running into her eyes. “Somebody help me!” Filling her lungs with air, she called for help again, waiting for a call from the ship ahead of her. “Help!” Alive and energized, Sicily swam closer to the ship, pushing the water away. The liner loomed over her, so tall and broad she could hardly see the top. They would hear her now. “Help me!” Sicily let water enter her mouth, garbling her cry.

“Man overboard!” Someone shouted. Finally. A thick rope soared over the edge of the ship, a faithful yet treacherous lifeline.

As Sicily rose, clutching the rope, she scanned the waters. The seas were empty of ships, except for her father’s, like a hulking beast, calm but deceiving. Their decoy flag was up, and it floated non-threateningly towards the ship Sicily now dangled from.  The three worried-looking men above her were hauling the red-haired girl up. When the men above looked behind them at the sound of another man’s voice, Sicily took one hand off the rope and held it above her eyes, watching them. Her skirts dragged up the side of the boat, like the wings of a dead butterfly. Dripping and soaked, she was hoping they would get her up soon. Out in this blistering sun she was going to get a terrible sunburn.

Sicily steadily rose, legs bumping and scraping on the rough exterior of the ship.

 Smooth and twinkling, the sea was growing farther and farther away below her. Her father’s ship grew closer and closer.

At last, she was at the top. Strong hands grabbed her arms and waist, pulling her up. Showtime.

“Are ye alright, miss?”

 Sicily gasped for breath, leaning on the one of the men like she was weak from exertion.

 “What happened, miss? Are you injured?”

“THANK YE!” boomed across the space between the two ships before Sicily could answer. All heads swiveled around to stare. Sicily choked back a laugh at the sight of fourteen-year-old Anthony on the bow of the ship with his hands cupped around his mouth. Despite being the youngest crewmate, he surprisingly had the deepest voice.

“OUR FAIR LASS TUMBLED OVERBOARD AFTER A RIVETIN’ ROUND OF FINE CHAMPAGNE. WE THANK YE HEARTILY FOR RESCUIN’ HER!”

Sicily stared at Anthony, muttering under her breath, “Insulting.” First of all, she rarely drank, and second of all, what sort of respectable lady was staggering drunk after only champagne?

A sailor on deck glanced doubtingly at her and Sicily pretended to gag, hiding her sobriety.

Stepping onto the highest point of the deck, the captain of the Mary cupped his hands and called,

“PERHAPS YOUR FINE LASS WOULD PREFER TO REMAIN ON OUR SHIP, EH LADS?!”

Sicily peered around a hefty sailor to see Father whisper in Anthony’s ear before the boy straightened and bellowed, “NAY, WE MAKE HASTE TO GET HER BACK, BEFORE SHE CURSES YOUR SHIP WITH HER COMPLAINING.”

That time Sicily could have sworn she could see the mischievous half grin of Anthony’s. She would smack him later, but for now she concentrated on looking thoroughly intoxicated. It was quite entertaining. She burped daintily.

Everyone watched as the lifeboat on the other ship was lowered to the water below, and Father, Anthony, and four other crew members rowed slowly over to the other ship. A sailor near Sicily threw down the rope ladder, and gradually, the crew members below began to climb. Meanwhile, the crew on the deck where Sicily stood was growing a bit too interested in their rescued maiden.

Beside her, a bushy-faced man whistled. Sicily leaned away before she could hear his vulgar comments but bumped right into a mountain of a man who winked flirtatiously at her.

“There’s a pretty miss,” he grinned. “Too bad we have to give ye back.” He leaned in closer, and Sicily could smell his malodourous breath. She forced herself not to break his nose or kick him in the groin.

 I’ll teach you to call me pretty. Father, get up here quick… she would not blow their cover. She could hear thumps against the side of the ship as the men climbed up.

Turning towards her, the captain smirked.

“Boys, boys, leave the lass alone. Maybe if yer kind she’ll want to stay with us.” A roar of laughter erupted and suddenly all the sailors were far too interested in getting close to her. Fear choked Sicily’s throat, panic growing with every second. If she just held out one more minute… her hope shattered as she heard a thick slice, then a roar of laughter. They had cut the rope. A sickening splash kicked her in the gut. She looked around frantically, just to lock eyes with the captain.

“Stick around a little longer,” The captain raised his eyebrows. “You and I could have a real good time.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his with burning fury.

“You.” She lunged at him, forgetting her ruse. She grabbed his collar, jerking him down to her eye level. “I hope you’ve said your prayers, because where I’m going to send you it’s a very unpleasant place.” She drew her dagger and the sailors around them gasped roughly. Fear flashed before the captain’s watery eyes and just as she was about to sink the dagger deep, those eyes went blank.

CRASH!

“NO ONE!” bellowed a furious and familiar voice as boots plunked onto the deck. “Touches my daughter!”  Sicily stepped backwards just in time for the captain to tip forward.

Thump.

There was a glorious, terrible moment of silence as the sailors took in their captain, lying face down on the deck with a dark stain on his back. Sicily released a breath in relief, meeting her father’s eye. He nodded once, breathing hard.

Suddenly the deck was chaos.

Shouts of surprise and fury erupted and the sleek shiing of swords followed. Sicily leapt out of the way and let the fight unfold. The plan went smooth as glass. Bedlam exploded over the deck of the Mary, as Father and the sailors leapt over the railing to engage in glorious combat.

Shouts of war cry resemblance ensued as more pirates jumped over the side of the deck, and Sicily knew the lifeboats would keep coming until the ship was theirs.

 She tossed her hair over her shoulder and drew her dagger, getting into the very center of the fight. Her father, who was holding off a sailor, spinning his sword in circles around his, caught her eye. He winked swiftly. They didn’t have to speak for her to know what he’d done to the captain would befall any soul who dared lay a finger on her. That is, if she didn’t do it first. Holding his opponent against a mast, Father flipped his hat off his head and tossed it to her. Sicily caught it and slammed it on her head before she turned around and banged the hilt of her knife into the forehead of the man who had winked at her. He hit the deck like a fallen tree, and Sicily smiled, joining the chaos.