The Mermaid

    I have this thing with mermaids. It comes from this other thing I have with water. Mermaids have always fascinated me for many different reasons. To me they seem to be everything that I once wanted to be, much of what I am, and who I know I might have become.

    When I was very young a friend and I used to pretend that we turned into mermaids in the bathtub or in the pool. We would only speak of it in whispers as if it was a great secret that we shared. Thinking back on it now I liked the idea of being a mermaid for two main reasons. The first was the adventure of having a really big, important secret. The second, because mermaids are beautiful. Mermaids are always shown as incredibly beautiful women. They spend their time swimming in underwater palaces made of pearls and living coral, or sitting on the rocks combing out their long hair as they sing. Their singing and their physical beauty can sink ships and drive sailors mad.
    I used to spend a lot of time in pools when I was younger (I don't now because I have less access to them, not because I've lost interest). I still love going to a quiet corner, sinking to the bottom, watching my hair drift around me like long strands of soft seaweed, and turning graceful little twists, as much like a mermaid as I think I can.

    During High School, when my friends and I were playing games online with our different characters (where the Captain became a Fox), I was often known as the Mermaid. The Mermaid didn't really do much as I recall. We had one little plot line where she was kidnapped by merfolk and the others had to come rescue her. Occasionally she would splash people or rescue them from drowning. Most of the time she was in a human form so that I could go with my friends into towns and up mountains and other places mermaids can't go. But it was around that time that I bought myself some blue swimsuit material and a pair of fins and made my own, real mermaid tail. One of the most magical things I have ever felt was when I went to a huge olympic sized pool with a deep end made for diving, and slid into the water with my mermaid tail. You move differently with a fin, there's more power in every kick. The water was cold and clear, I was moving fast and freely, and the tail looked incredible as it pushed and turned, even though it was just some blue material sewn into a tube.
    There were other swimmers there too. I remember them watching me take my tail on and off, pointing and exclaiming to others. In the water no one really notices though. I swam for over an hour once before swimming by an elderly woman and surfacing to hear her comment “You're a mermaid!”

    As much as I like them, and identify with them, I'm still keenly aware of the real nature of mermaids. In Irish myths mermaids are almost always mentioned as luring sailors into the depths “having their way with them” and then leaving the men to die. They are known for causing ships to crash and sailors to die for no reason other than for their own whims. Mermaids are also well known in old tales for their tempers. Selkies in particular are known for causing much harm and even killing fishermen who killed seals or fished in seal territory. They're a terrible threat because on the outside they appear so innocent, just the little mermaid sitting on the rocks. They hide their real nature. In some stories, such as the most recent Pirates of the Caribbean movie, they appear at first quietly and are believed to be good, but when they are confronted in the water they show their fangs.
    Part of my personality is a mermaid. I call her the Mermaid. On the outside I know I appear innocent, I'm a good girl. I do want to be a good girl, but that's never enough to make the Mermaid go away. She hides behind my timidity, my desire to be good and polite and loved. The Mermaid craves more. A coworker recently commented that nothing phases me. He was seriously wrong. Everything phases me, because of the Mermaid's passion. She is always reacting in extremes. Boiling, freezing, screaming, laughing, singing, crying.
    The Mermaid loves trying to get out.

    She gets out here sometimes, I allow her to speak through my writing because she wants to be heard. I'll lay awake in bed some nights and think about all the ways I could tell people what I really think of them. Often it isn't bad things at all. I'll think about writing a love letter to the Captain, or of how I can tell Aisling how much she means to me. Or I'll remember bullies, old and new, and all the things I'll never say to them.
    But the Mermaid doesn't rule me, thanks to God and to a few close and dear friends. These close and dear friends know the Mermaid better than anyone. Most of them call me Mermy. I love mermaids and the ocean and though I have to keep an eye on it, I love the passionate Mermaid part of my heart. Without it I could not say thank you to my closest and dearest friends. A very grateful thank you to those of you who know me best, and who constantly encourage me and keep me in check. My life would be very lonely and dark without each of you, and I hope I return the favors just as often.

7 Things That Bug Me

Recently I started watching videos by youtube user blimeycow. Monday he posted a video called Seven Lies about Homeschoolers, which you should watch if you haven't. 7 Lies about Homeschoolers


I was not homeschooled like the Captain, but there's no question about our choice for our future children. We will homeschool them. And here's my top 7 reasons why!

1. Homeschoolers have more of a life
    When I was in school I got up early every morning, went and stood out in the cold to wait for my bus, endured the bus ride to school, endured the classes and the other students and the teachers for eight hours, came home on the bus again, and then had to do homework before I did it all again the next day. My homeschooled friends were always having paintball games while I was in school, or going to the pool or something. Most of my phone calls with Aisling when we were growing up would somehow involve me saying “I can't, I have school that day.”
    The beauty of homeschooling, they did their school too, and played paintball and built forts and crawled around in the creek and got covered in leeches. They spent way less time doing school than I did but guess what? Aisling and the Captain and all of their siblings are super smart. They spent their time learning in the school room but they also ran around and did things. If they had gone to school would they know that their younger brother is practically the next Da Vinci? Would their older brother have made three cd's of his own music? Would Aisling be on her way to being a famous director with a ton of experience making films in her back yard?

2.Falling in love with the teachers.
   That sounds terrible I know, but hear me out. Children naturally fall in love with the person they see spending the most time taking care of them. When you're 6-14 years old and you spend eight hours a day with no more than five teachers you start to get attached. They either become parent figures to you or they become your jailer.
   When I was in school I always wanted to please my teachers. So now I remember every single time any of my teachers disciplined me. The one time my third grade teacher sent me to the corner because I was talking in class I spent the rest of the day crying.
   And if you think Private school is a better choice, I was hurt the most by my private school. There was one teacher who I looked up to more than any teacher before. He was fired in the middle of my junior year and no one would tell us why. I went to class that day and refused to be comforted. To me, they might as well have fired my dad.

3. Do teachers really care about your kids?
   If I were to walk back through the halls of my old schools how many of my teachers do you think would remember me? Probably most of my high school teachers remember me, I had most of them for at least one class every year. Public school teachers though, I don't think any one of them would. Think about it, they have a new crop of about twenty to thirty kids every year. If you don't stick out in the crowd you'll just get overlooked. Also, by the time they know everyone's name it's almost time for the next bunch to come along.
   Teachers are also constantly busy trying to keep the entire class on the same page of the book. A class of very different kids. The kids who don't want to learn get behind, the kids who are geniuses get ahead and get bored. The obvious answer is to put all the smart kids in one class, and all the dumb kids in another class, right? That's great, now all the kids know if they're smart or dumb. And believe me, all the other kids know it too. The kids in the smart classes lord it over the dumb kids and the dumb kids decide they'll never be anything in life.
   Teachers can't see everything that goes on in their classrooms either. My brother was being picked on for over a week before the other kid punched him in the back and my brother put the jerk in a choke hold. Guess what part the teacher saw? Guess which kid got in trouble? The kid with the ruined shirt, bruised neck, and chipped tooth. My brother. Could the teachers be bothered to hear about him being abused? No, they just suspended him.
   Also, they get every holiday and every summer off work and spend most of their time whining about not being paid enough. Remind me what they do to get paid again?

4. Proximity.
    When people are around each other long enough they'll start to be attracted to each other. What does school do? Put lots of kids together every day. I've heard stories about kindergartners talking about their boyfriends and girlfriends. Isn't that kinda young?! By the time they're in middle school they'll be making out in the hallway! Oh wait, they do.
    When I was in seventh grade I saw a class mate of mine with some boy's hands down the back of her pants. These kids couldn't have been older than thirteen!
    And if proximity doesn't make them crazy the teachers make sure it happens with sex class. They cleverly call it “Health” but what it is is “Don't do drugs!” “Here's the laws on who you can legally sleep with!” “Don't drink anything a stranger gives you at a bar!” “Wear condoms!” “Don't have babies! They're noisy!” Never did I hear them say not to have sex before marriage. (Except in the Christian Private school, if any teacher has ever done health class right my health teacher in high school did.)
    And now it's getting even creepier. They're trying to teach kids not just about sex, but now things like homosexuality. Lets not just make kids curious about sex, lets make them curious about sexual perversions by telling them that it's just as natural. Next they'll start telling them drugs are just a fun pastime.

5. On that note, is school really the place Christian parents want their kids?
Except for a few good private schools, things like homosexuality, evolution, atheism, and who knows what else are shoved down kid's throats every day. School is a battleground for your children's hearts and if you don't spend more than eight hours a day with your kid to make up for the time they spend hearing lies, you're probably losing the battle.
   Wouldn't you rather your child be well equipped to go into battle instead of just being flung in before they're mature enough to understand? If they first learn what they believe, and why they believe it, and if they have an active friendship with God they'll be more likely to not only fight in the battle, but win for their King and His Kingdom.
   I'll use the example again of the Captain and his siblings. They were homeschooled and now that they're in college they're actively witnessing and are able to not only recognize when their professors are lying to them, but can respond intelligently and respectfully. Not like me who thought for most of her life that God made the dinosaurs, didn't like them, and then started over with people.

6. Who says parents can't teach their kids?
   The public school system would love you to believe that you're not smart enough to teach your kids. But why not? A college education has become so commonplace in America today that it's safe to assume that everyone (except me) has one. And we tell college students that they're the smartest people in the entire world after graduation.
   Sure, they just spent those four years doing as little homework as possible and spending every available second drinking booze and smoking pot, but now, now they're college grads, so they must know everything. (If you were one of these people just imagine letting your drinking buddies alone with your children all day and you'll start to get an idea of why I don't trust teachers.)
   If you've graduated high school you probably know your colors and your numbers, and how to read and write. While you teach your kids the basics you've got plenty of time to buy yourself a math book and brush up on your multiplication tables before you need to teach them to your kids. And when they get to high school, who says you can't learn with them? I never learned trigonometry, and even if I can't figure it out, the Captain's dad and his two brothers are like, super math and science guys. If Grandpa has to get a few emails of me asking if I got the answers right, so what?
   Plus, if you're teaching your kids you know what they're learning and when, mainly things that they're too young to need to know.

7. I love my kids.
   I don't have them yet, but I already love them. I dream about watching them play, I pray for them, I pray for their future spouses, I plan what I want to do to give them the best life I can. I promise, just give them to me and I will love them forever.
I went to public school, and private school, and even a little bit of college. Why would I put my children through the things I went through, just because I went through them? Who would ever think to themselves that they want their children to be beaten up on the playground? To be told that they're not pretty or smart? To have viscous rumors spread about them? To give their trust to teachers who didn't deserve it? To be harassed by other students, including sexual harassment? To have the teachers call them a liar when they ask for help? To feel like they have to cheat just to get by?

No.

I will not sit by and let the school system do to my children what it did to me.

A Fox Filled Day

To understand this blog entry you have to understand that the Captain is a Fox. We used to play a sort of game with our friends where we were different characters or creatures. The Captain was always Fox, a fox named Fox. (We were really clever, there was also a Dragon named Dragon, a female fox named Vixen, and a gigantic fish named Fishy. Anyways, the point is that he is Fox.) A fox is a very good way to describe the Captain. He's cunning, quick, witty, curious, and when he wants to be he's absolutely adorable. It's something of a running joke now, he'll say things like "My paws hurt," and if he does something silly I'll call him Fox. My character was a mermaid and a mermaid, sadly, probably does describe my character very well. The Captain's family lovingly calls me "Mermy."

Because of our personas I've slowly been collecting Mermaids and Foxes. I have a mermaid doll named Eleanor and then a stuffed animal Fox that the Captain and I named Toffee, one Christmas the Captain gave me a fox shaped box, his mother gave me a little Fox and Mermaid sculpture for my birthday, and for Christmas this year Aisling gave me a Foxy hat. It's knitted from red and white wool with little ears, two button eyes, a little nose and whiskers, and a white pom pom at the back for a tail.

Yesterday I spent the day with the Captain and his family. I feel a little silly wearing my Foxy hat in public but it's a hat and I wanted to keep my ears warm, plus I was going to be out with the Captain and he always says it looks cute so I wore it anyway. We went out to lunch at the restaurant where the Captain and his sister work, ironically, they only serve chicken and the Fox works in the back, with the chickens. I think they must trust him a lot, that or they keep him well fed so he doesn't sneak chickens away. At lunch they told me about footprints on the bridge in the back yard. They thought the prints were spaced too far apart to be a cat's, and the claws were out on each print. The Captain also pointed out that the animal would have to be very agile to leap off of the bridge onto the cliff bank from as far as it had, so, since it was too small to be a dog it must have been a fox out on the Fox's bridge! After lunch we went to a park and scampered around looking at all the plants and trees and things. Then on the way home the Captain was being all sleepy and cute. Aisling made a comment about him being a grumpy fox, and about grumpy foxies nipping. The Captain tapped his teeth together just enough to make noise, I don't think Aisling heard it but I was amused.

After a full day of fox jokes and me running around in my Fox hat I had to go home. It was dark out and there was a full moon. Aisling was walking me to my car since I'm too afraid of their yard to even walk to my car alone. As we were talking an animal made a screaming noise out in the woods. Because Aisling loves terrifying me she informed me that it was a rabbit. As I was about to slam the door shut and hurry to my nice safe bed she thought of something else. Foxes make a sort of high screaming noise sometimes, it might have been a fox. I didn't want to meet a screaming bunny or a screaming fox, so I hurried away home as the thought crossed my mind "Wouldn't it be funny if I saw a fox while wearing my Foxy hat?"

So I ended my very Foxy day driving home and remarking at the number of deer out. And then I saw something loping across the road ahead. I thought at first that it was a raccoon, since it was too large to be a cat and the tail was too fluffy. But wait! The tail had a white tip! As I drove closer I saw that the animal was red, and too big to be a raccoon. Then it turned it's head and I saw it's fox shaped ears and face, and another look at it's fluffy tail as it jumped the fence into a field and hurried away.

A real, live, wild fox. And it must not be the only one! I used to think that, sort of like wolves, there were no foxes left happily running through farmers fields. Why else would the Captain's neighbors have a herd of chickens running loose in their yard all the time? Maybe the foxies are coming back, I know of at least two near the Captain's house. And if there are two foxes one might be a girl fox, and the other might be a boy fox, and then there might be adorable little red fox kits! And someday I might find one and feed it and wash it and bring it to the Captain and say "Can't we keep him!" and then we'll build a little Fox house for him and name him Captain, so there will be a Captain called Fox and a fox named Captain. And then the world will be a happier, fuzzier place. The world needs more fuzziness, don't you think?

Stormy Seas: Finale

    Eldon fired back and I ducked behind the Captain's desk. I heard Stratt scream and then start cursing at her crew in between coughing fits.
    I peeked around the far side of the desk when the first round of shots stopped. Both pirates were laying motionless on the floor.
    “Vivian?” Eldon asked. He fired again as more pirates came to the door.
    “I'm alright!” I shouted back.
    Stratt was still shouting and coughing.
    “I'm running out of bullets,” he said. He set Stratt down on the floor and hid behind the desk with me.
    “Were you hit?” I asked.
    He started opening the desk drawers and searching them until he found more bullets in a lower drawer. “Only Stratt,” he said.
    A few shots were fired just above our heads. Eldon turned around and started shooting again.
    I glanced over at Stratt writhing on the floor. I could see a bullet wound in one of her bare thighs and she was clutching at a second one in her shoulder.
    We heard the cannons being fired on deck. The pirates were ignoring us now, running straight past the open door to man the guns.
    “The Voilitiers must be close,” Eldon commented.
    “Did they get our messages?” I asked him.
    “Probably,” he said. He began to reload the pistol. “But they must have been fairly close to begin with.”
    The cannon fire was replaced by guns. The pirates I could see on deck were shooting straight upwards.
    “Get down!” Eldon pushed me under the desk and continued guarding the door.
    “Cease Fire!” A voice boomed from the heavens. The Voilitiers must have had some sort of megaphone on their airship. “You are outnumbered!”
    The pirates refused to listen and a few of them ran for the Captain's cabin. Eldon fired a few more shots.
    “CEASE FIRE!”
    Eldon reluctantly stopped shooting. “They're coming down,” he said to me.
    Stratt rolled over and started trying to crawl away.
    “Stay where you are,” Eldon warned her. He turned the gun on her again. “If the Voilitiers want you to hang, I'll see that you hang.”
    She shot him a vicious look. “They don't want me to hang,” she seethed at him. “They want me back.”
    “Captain Carlotta Stratt?”
    I looked back at the door. A man stood in the doorway with a gun in his hand. He wore all brown leather and a cap with goggles.
    “She's our prisoner,” Eldon said to the man. “Who are you?”
    “Captain Emmerson J. Stratton of the Voilitier ship Lady Grey,” he introduced. He took off his cap and smoothed back his white hair.
    Eldon stood. “Eldon Palmer and Miss Vivian Winters.” He helped me stand. “Stratt is there,” he pointed.
    “Charity?” a woman called.
    Stratt groaned.
    “In here, Sarah,” Captain Stratton shouted.
    A woman in a leather coat and checked skirt hurried in.
    “Charity!” she gasped. “Who shot her!?”
    “Her own crew Ma'am.” Eldon explained. I noticed dark purple bruises forming around Stratt's neck and wondered if he would tell them about nearly strangling her to death.
    “Come on, let's get her back to the ship!” the woman said. She called in reinforcements with a stretcher and rolled Stratt on to it.
    We watched them go and then Eldon turned the pistol around and handed it to Stratton. “This is hers,” he said.
    “You may keep it,” Stratton said with a wave. “I certainly don't want her to have it back.”
    “So,” I thought aloud. “Carlotta Stratt is really Charity?”
    “Yes,” the man said wearily. “She was born Charity Stratton, my only daughter.”
    We waited for an explanation. He sat down and Eldon and I followed suite. Stratton eyed us for a moment and then handed Eldon his handkerchief. Eldon hesitated. “Go on,” Stratton said. “Get some of that coal dust off.”
    “Thank you,” Eldon said. He took it and started cleaning around his eyes.
    “Was Charity captured by pirates?” I asked.
    “Unfortunately yes,” Stratton said. “I carelessly left our families unprotected one day and a few of our children were captured by Captain Robert and his men. They said that if we ever came after them again they would kill the children.
    “Charity got a message out to us after a few weeks, asking us why we wouldn't pay their ransom. We offered Robert two of our airships and everything we had taken from other pirates, but we never heard from him or Charity again.
    “When his crew mutinied and killed him a year later we assumed the worst had happened. And then we started hearing rumors of a Captain Caroltta Stratt commanding his ship. We tried to chase after them, but eventually had to give up. She was too good at evading us since she knew all my tricks.
    “We had chased her this time from the Mediterranean and lost her again until your ship slowed her down.”
    Eldon laughed. “Our ship was called the Lethargy,” he explained.
    Stratton cocked an eyebrow but continued. “I should thank you two since it seems you played a large role in bringing her back to us.”
    “I apologize for the state she's in,” Eldon said. “I did use her as a shield for a bit there.”
    “I can't blame you,” Stratton said. “When fighting pirates you have to do whatever you think you have to to survive.” He stood up and pulled his cap back on. “Are there other prisoners?” he asked.
    “Several,” Eldon said. He handed back the handkercheif now blackened with coal dust. “I can show you.”
    “You know,” Stratton said as he eyed Eldon. “We could use another good man with our crew. Have you ever considered being a Voilitier?”
    Eldon thought for a second. “I think I could consider it. What does it pay?”
    “A share from every venture, and food and quarters for yourself and a family if you choose,” he said with a glance at me. “It's humble but good living.”
    “It sounds alright to me,” I said. I played with my skirts instead of looking at Eldon.
    “It doesn't sound easy,” Eldon added.
    “No, but the two of us have gotten used to adventurous living. Going back home would barely seem like living at all.”
    “Could we have a moment Captain?” Eldon asked.
    Stratton smiled and shut the door behind him as he left.
    “Would you stay with me?” Eldon asked.
    “Always,” I promised.
    “Even if our children were captured by pirates?”
    “It's a risk I'm willing to take.”
    “Vivian?”
    I looked up at him.
    “May I kiss you again?”
    I felt my cheeks flush, but managed to make myself nod.

Stormy Seas: Part 21

    Vivian made no move to raise her hands from the keys. “You can't shoot me and get a good price,” she said to Stratt.
    Stratt turned and the gun was pointing at me. “Then I'll shoot him.”
    Vivian turned then and her hands lifted. “I thought you wanted him to join your crew,” she said accusingly.
    Of course she did, I thought. She had still been calculating if she could control me. Obviously she had decided she couldn't.
    “Even if she shoots me, Vivian, you won't have time to send anything before she stops you,” I said. I was already slipping the ropes off of my wrists and hiding it in my fist. Stratt didn't seem to have noticed but I still wouldn't be surprised if she knew somehow.
    “Fine,” Vivian sulked and raised her hands away from the machine.
    “Get over there with him,” Stratt said. The gun was still aimed at me.
    Vivian began to slide around the desk past her. I knew she was going to do something.
    As she turned sideways to get past Stratt she hit her from behind and reached for the gun. I dropped to the floor just before it went off.
    Vivian knocked the gun out of Stratt's hand and then kicked it away while trying to hold on to Stratt. They both lunged for control of it but a few seconds after the gun had skittered away, a well placed elbow in Vivian's ribs sent her reeling into the wooden desk. Stratt rolled and reached for the gun but I had scrambled forward, knocking it farther away. Stratt opened her mouth to call for her crew but I still had the rope and before she could get the words out I had twisted it around her throat.
    We sat there for a moment in something of a stalemate. The gunshot didn't seem to mean much to Stratt's crew. Possibly only that I was supposed to be dead. When Stratt tried again to make a noise I tightened my grip on the rope.
    “Send that message,” I ordered Vivian.
    She nodded and stood. I listened to her tapping away until she finally pulled the lever to send the message.
    “Get the gun,” I said.
    She had to carefully step over us to get to the armchair where I had tossed the pistol. I watched Stratt, ready for her to try and fight back. When Vivian was past us I loosened my grip a bit because Stratt had started to make little choking noises that I was sure she wasn't faking.
    “Now what?” Vivian asked.
    “Send another message,” I told her. “Give out our coordinates.”
    “What coordinates?” she asked.
    I glanced up at the desk where Stratt had her maps and charts. “Look for a log book,” I said. I wondered if Stratt ever bothered to keep one.
    “This?” Vivian held up a leather journal.
    “What's it say inside?”
    “Thirty knots, wind from the west,” Vivian read off the page. “Then some numbers.”
    “Go to the last entry and put in those numbers,” I said.
    Vivian went to do so and I stayed put, with Stratt's head on my thigh. I could see her wanting to make a comment about it, but ignored it.
    “What if no one gets the messages?” Vivian asked.
    “Someone always gets them,” I said. “Passing ships, other pirates, Voilitiers.”
    Stratt suddenly started struggling. She managed to cough out the word “No!” as I flipped her onto her stomach.
    “Pass me the gun.” I put my hand up and Vivian set the pistol against my palm. “The others don't seem to think their beloved Captain is in any danger,” I said to Vivian as I pressed the gun into Stratt's back, “but I don't know how much time that will buy us.”
    “What will we do when they try to come in?” she asked.
    “We'll find out how much they love their Captain,” I finished. “Won't we?”
    Stratt glared but stayed still.
    There was a sharp knock on the door then that made all of us startle. “Captain Stratt!” Abbot's voice said from outside.
    Vivian and I glanced at each other.
    “What!” Vivian shouted back, mimicking Stratt's tone rather well.
    “It's those Voilitiers! They're right on top of us!”
    “You're out of time,” Stratt coughed to us.
    “Your orders Captain?”
    I loosened my grip on the rope around her neck.
    “Get in here!” she shouted.
    The door burst apart at the hinges and Abbot and the bearded pirate hurried in.
    “Stay where you are!” I ordered. I pulled Stratt up by the neck so she was kneeling in front of Vivian and I, and I made sure that they could see the gun I was holding.
    “The Voilitiers only want her, if she dies we throw her over,” the bearded one said.
    They both drew pistols from their belts and opened fire into the room.

Stormy Seas: Part 20

    “Cap'n sure seems mad at you,” Clark said outside my door. I was sitting on the stool as far away from him as I could get. I was guessing from the length of time he had been there that he was supposedly guarding me.
    “After awhile she stops being nice to people who make her mad.”
    “Why do you let a woman order you around anyway?” I asked him.
    “We'd have all been hanged years ago if not for Stratt,” he said. “She knows pirating better than anyone else.”
    “I wonder how she learned it,” I scoffed.
    “Thinking about joining our humble crew?” he laughed.
    I ignored him. I was tired of talking to him anyway.
    I sighed to myself, considering my predicament. It seemed like there was nothing for me to do but listen to Clark talk all the way back to England.
    You got yourself into this foolish mess, I thought. Surely there must be some way to get yourself out of it again.
    I reached up to the porthole near my head and started fiddling with it to see if I could open it. It was far too small to escape through, and even then there was nothing but open ocean for me to escape to, but it gave me something to do.
    “Think of it this way,” Clark was still talking out in the hall. “All your little friends will be amazed that you survived all this. You'll probably be some sort of hero.”
    I rolled my eyes and continued fiddling with the porthole, hoping for a latch of some sort. I grew tired of fiddling very quickly. The whole thing was tightly bolted together.
    I decided to change tactics, and possibly see some more of the ship. Maybe I would get another idea.
    “Where is the lavatory?” I asked Clark.
    “There's a bucket in there,” he laughed.
    My eyes narrowed at the laughter coming from behind the door. I grabbed the bucket by the handle, stood up, and smashed the bucket against the wooden door. Hard.
    The laughing stopped as soon as the bucket hit the floor.
    “I want to speak to the Captain,” I demanded. What I really wanted was to get out of this cell, and maybe find some way to send help for Eldon and the others.
    “Stratt's not going to build a toilet for you,” Clark said in response.
    I kicked the door to make sure I still had his attention. “Not about that!” I practically screamed.
    “What then?” he asked.
    “About everything,” I said.
    “Captain's busy,” he replied.
    “Busy ordering everyone around?” I prepared to give the door another good kick.
    “Busy interrogating another prisoner,” he said.
    “Another prisoner?” What other prisoner? Who else are they holding for ransom?
    “He escaped earlier and they trapped him in the coal store.”
    “Who?” I asked.
    “From your ship, they said his name was Palmer.”
    “Eldon!”
    I realized too late that I had said his name aloud.
    “Aha!” Now I really had Clark's attention.
    A key turned in the lock and Clark swung the door open. “Maybe Stratt would like to see you.” He grabbed me by the arm and half dragged me out into the hallway.
    “Captain?” Clark knocked politely on her door, still holding my arm so tightly that I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingers.
    “What is it?” Stratt's sharp voice demanded from inside.
    “A friend of the prisoner's,” Clark said.
    He waited until Stratt allowed him to open the door. She seemed curious but when she saw me she didn't look the least bit surprised.
    Eldon turned around to see me and didn't look surprised either. He was standing in the middle of the room with his hands tied behind his back and every inch of him smeared with coal dust.
    “So is that how you ended up on that ship?” Stratt asked me. “I was wondering.”
    “We met on board,” Eldon answered casually.
    “Too bad.” Stratt was laughing at us with her eyes.
    I noticed a Transligraph in a little cupboard behind Stratt's desk. I had used one before on an airship with Aunt. It was used to send and translate messages without having to know morse code. It must mean that, for all her knowledge of ships, Stratt had not learned to use morse code and needed this machine to send, receive, and intercept messages at sea.
    “What will happen to Vivian?” Eldon was asking Stratt. They had resumed their conversation.
    “We're holding her for ransom,” Stratt said. She sat down on her desk and took off her feathered hat.
    “Good,” Eldon said.
    Clark was still in the room. If he left I might be able to knock Stratt out and send a message for help out before she came around. I began looking for something to hit her with.
    “Won't you sit down Miss Winters?” Stratt said to me. She waved at the armchair she had been sitting in earlier.
    “Thank you,” I said politely. I took a more strategic seat in a wooden chair a little more to the side. Clark was watching us all.
    Stratt dismissed him with a wave and he left, shutting the door behind him.
    “Aren't you wondering what will happen to you now?” Stratt asked Eldon. “I obviously can't keep you around now that I know you can escape, and I'll have to show your friends that they won't get away with anything they try.”
    “You'll slit my throat in front of them?” Eldon asked. I was horrified for a moment but then I saw how Stratt was reacting.
    “I take no pleasure in slitting throats, Mr. Palmer,” she said. She was smiling. I was getting the impression that she liked Eldon.
    “You don't seem very old fashioned, so I'll rule out walking the plank,” Eldon continued.
    Stratt stood and started circling him. “I can be old fashioned when it strikes my fancy,” she said.
    She had her back turned to me for a moment. I glanced at the Transligraph and then for something I could club Stratt over the head with. My eyes met Eldon's, which were looking at me sternly.
    “No!” he mouthed.
    “I was thinking about something else though,” Stratt came around in front of Eldon again and leaned close to him. He stared straight ahead instead of down at her smiling sensuously up at him. “I'm always in need of more crew,” she said. She had her back turned to me.
    I stopped listening and stood as quietly as I could and tried to keep my skirts from rustling. I opened the little door to the Transligraph and started tapping out my message on the keys. They made faint clicking sounds as I typed out the words “Help. Prisoner.” The S key stuck and made a sharp metallic click when I released it.
    Then there was another click. The sound of a pistol cocking right behind my head.

Stormy Seas: Part 19

    Sweat began to bead on my forehead as soon as we stepped past the boiler room on the pirate ship. A fairly young looking man with a bristling beard was leading myself and a handful of other crew from the Lethargy. We had been taken prisoner and brought down into the bowels of the pirate's ship.
    “Not so good lighting, yes?” Ameya whispered at my side.
    I shushed him. The bearded man had a pistol in his hand and was watching us closely.
    “Through there!” he ordered. He pointed with his gun through a dark little door that most of the other captives had already crawled through.
    I bent down and inside with Ameya following close behind. It was very dark inside, since there were no windows or lamps, and it was quite warm from the boilers.
    I could hear rather than see the other captives as I tried to find a place to sit. I heard the door slam shut and the lock click just before I sat on someone who I had thought was an empty space.
    “Excuse me,” I apologized as I inched past him, trying not to step on anyone else.
    There was silence after that for a long moment. Outside I could hear the sounds of the engine and of shovels scraping coal.
    “Is very dark now, yes?” Ameya broke the silence.
    Someone snorted.
    “Get used to the dark lad,” another man said. “They'll probably sell us to the gold mines in Africa.”
    “It'll be coal mining, everyone needs coal,” someone else added pessimistically.
    “Where are you fellows from?” I asked. I crossed my arms over my knees and leaned against the wall.
    “The H.M.S. Gloryling,” someone said. It was hard to tell who was who.
    “We were sunk by the pirates and they pulled us few out of the water.”
    “And we've been in here ever since.”
    “Really,” I commented. I half turned and started poking at the wall behind me. “Do they ever open the door besides when they bring new captives in?”
    “Never that I've seen.”
    “What have you been eating?” I asked.
    “They open a hatch in the door and put the food in. If you can really call it food.”
    “After a few weeks you'll be happy just to see that!” an older sounding voice said.
    “That sounds like what we need,” I said. I shifted to my knees. “Which way is the door?”
    “Here,” a voice to my left said.
    I crawled that way, trying to be careful of where the others were. My hand hit the metal door and I began running my hand along it, looking for the hatch.
    I felt an indent in the lower part of the door, just about five or six inches above the floor.
    “Have any of you ever tried to open it?” I asked.
    “Sometimes for light,” someone said.
    I started sliding it open with my fingers. It was slow going until I got it open wide enough to fit my fingers through. I bent down and stuck my head out. I turned to the side and craned my neck to see  out into the boiler room. There were two pirates there, one sitting and smoking a pipe, and the other stoking the fires. Neither noticed me opening the hatch.
    I pushed the hatch open the rest of the way and tried to see if my shoulders would fit through.
    “Where are you going Mr. Elderton?” Ameya asked.
    I pushed myself back into the cell and shushed him.
    “You'll end up shot,” someone said.
    “I'll try and find a way to get us all out of this,” I said. “Keep quiet if you don't want to be sold in Africa!”
    I tried again, putting my arms through first. My shoulders made it through the opening and I continued crawling out.
    The pirate who had been shoveling coal tossed his shovel aside with a loud crash that startled me but when I looked he was climbing a ladder out of the hold and his smoking companion appeared to be sleeping.
    I continued crawling out until I was stopped by my backside. The hatch was just barely too short. I tried to wiggle myself through, which caused the metal of the door to dig into my hip bones. One more wiggle got me through and my legs followed easily.
    I crawled away from the boilers quickly and started looking for a hiding spot while rubbing my bruised middle. Then I had another idea.
    I turned around and went back to the boiler room.
    “Mr. Elderton?” Ameya whispered through the still open hatch.
    I wordlessly bent down and slid it shut again. I stood and peered around the corner into the boiler room. The pirate was still seated with his pipe in his hand and his eyes closed with his head on his chest. I took careful footsteps across the coal littering the floor and then climbed up the side of their boiler where the pistons were hard at work moving the ship.
    I passed them carefully and found a huge bin shaped thing filled to the ceiling with coal. After I shifted some of the coal I crawled around to a place where I could look down on the boiler room. If I waited until most of the pirates had gone to bed I could sneak back down, free the others, and we could all take the pirates by surprise.
    The coal moved uneasily below me. I tried to scramble for the edge of the coal store but more and more coal slid out from underneath me. I began to feel myself sinking.
    I looked down. The chair the sleeping smoker had been sitting in was empty but I had a good guess where he was. At the controls for the giant coal box I was sitting in, prepared to drown me in coal.