Treasure of the sea |Lesbian story|

CHAPTER VIII

When we were in front of my quarters, the men knocked insistently. I half-closed my eyes, completely filled with terror. My ears were ringing. Was this what people felt at the point of death? Powerlessness, confusion, uncertainty, trepidation...

I heard a female voice, muffled and distant. My mind was still wandering; I couldn't keep my attention on what was happening around me. I forced myself to focus, to understand, to be present in reality and to push away the fear that was blurring my vision.

"We found her, ma'am."

"Why is she completely soaked?"

"We washed her. She smelled like a sewer, maybe more."

"Send her in. I'd better handle this from here on out. You bunch of scurvy dogs are only making things worse."

"We do our best, ma'am."

"And don't call me ma'am! You know I don't like it!"

It had been weeks since I had heard a female voice, but only the hoarse, tobacco-scraping voices of sailors.

One of the two men pushed me inside the cabin. I walked with difficulty, my knees were saggy and my dress weighed down by the water didn't help the situation.

I noticed that things in my quarters had been moved. The table had been set aside and the chairs too. On the first there were a dozen or so codes, manuals and nautical maps strewn on top of each other, without too much regard.

"Leave, now," the woman ordered. "And close the door on your way out. Oh, and tell Quinn that as soon as I've finished with the lady he's to come and dry the floor; this girl is making a real mess of this wet dress."

They closed the door behind them, leaving us alone. I lifted my gaze to the woman and glanced at her. The first thing that struck me about her was her clothing. She was wearing men's clothes, a jacket, shirt, canvas trousers and leather boots that went up to her knees. I had never seen a woman dressed like that and at first I found it bizarre. She had high cheekbones and marked features, giving her an almost androgynous appearance. Her blue eyes studied me warily and curiously, the same way one would study a painting.

"I owe you an apology," she began. "My men take a rather crude attitude with women, usually."

"Why don't you throw me overboard and be done with it?" said I, bravely. I marvelled at my own words. I was not wont to act with such impetuosity.

She stared at me. "It would certainly be unwise of me if I gave you to the sea so rashly."

"If I am to be a carnal vent for beasts... so be it. Come on, what are you waiting for? All I wish is to follow my crew into death."

I cared nothing for the pain, the humiliation I felt for being in that state, for being washed like an animal by those brutes. At that moment I felt only a great anger towards those people, an anger that gave me the courage I needed to speak to her in that way.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood greatly. I have no intention of having you raped or killed."

"Then where are they!? There were twenty men on this ship!"

"We traded, so to speak, with the other ship. The ship we had before was severely damaged after a botched boarding. We desperately needed a new ship. One that was sturdier, larger and, possibly, with a well-stocked food hold. We were in a rather critical situation, I dare say. And it was chance that brought us to the Galatea. As soon as we saw her in the distance, we decided to take her. A magnificent ship, I must admit; I never owned one so fine."

"Will my crew make it to the coast, albeit in a battered ship?" I insisted again.

"Certainly. We left them the minimum dispensable to survive to the shores of America. We took the rest of the supplies ourselves. We're fully loaded."