Woman Overboard

Chapter 4 : Prayer (1)

Afiba

August 21st, 1820

(6:47 PM)

On Afiba's side of the table, her crew sat silently, crouched together in half their usual space. On Aless's half, The Elizabeth's crew did the same. At least they were united in this much.

The other captain had dried her eyes and combed her hair. She looked severe, now, very different from the sniffling woman Afiba had encountered on the burning ship. At the opposite end of the table sat Captain Broderick, not Alessandra. Her icy blue eyes darted cooly around the room, betraying no pity or prejudice, no fear or relief. She would not meet anyone's gaze, nor would she move from her rigid position on the edge of her chair.

Afiba herself couldn't help but sit with her back stiff. Hostility rang clear in the air, bold and evident as the winds of an apocalyptic storm. Afiba smiled, hoping to dull its sharp pinch on her skin, but it only seemed to exacerbate the malevolence. She let her mouth sag back into its default apathetic line.

To her right sat Abigail, the vein in her temple jumping with anxiety. Hany sat to her left, fidgeting with her dress. She hadn't been able to sit still since they returned from The Elizabeth. Afiba reminded herself to sit down and have a talk with Hany later. It seemed that her friend's tender young days were slipping through their fingers, nearly gone like fine sand in a spent hourglass.

In the kitchen, Oni stood with his hands on his hips, a gesture that said, well? Afiba sighed, nodding to him. If the chef was ready to serve the food, who was she to hold up the proceedings. She took Abby's hand in her own as she did nightly, feeling the familiar ripple of energy rush through her as the crew joined together in one long, unbreakable chain.

This had always been her favorite part of the day. Everyone went silent for a moment, their daily stresses falling away as they bowed their heads to pray. Tied together with knots of tightly intertwined hands, the sorrows of one became the sorrows of all, until every sadness, stress, and degradation had travelled through each of them, spreading so thin that it became bearable for the one to which it belonged.

Over their years together on The Brookes, Afiba had come to know the distinctive feeling of her friends' hands. Tonight, she clutched Abigail's leathery, steady hand in her own with unusual strength, using her friend to anchor herself in faith, bound against tides of anger.

Afiba closed her eyes. She could feel the stares of Aless's crew on her as she bowed her head, lifting her's and Hany's united hands above the table as if to show an example for them to follow. But from the continued heat of their stares, she knew they had not joined hands. Sighing, she squeezed Abby's hand, silently signaling for her to begin.

"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name," she sang, her voice joined by those of Afiba's crew.

Peeking through her eyelashes, Afiba saw recognition dawn on the white men's faces. Their captain nodded her approval, grabbing the hand of the man next to her. Her daughter, who sat at her side, took her other hand. Following suit, the rest of the men linked themselves together until two unclosed circles existed: black and white.

"On earth as it is in heaven."

Jaiye, seated on the end of the black chain, reached out a hand. The white man on the untethered end of his circle looked away.

But then new voice joined the chorus, strong and full. "Give us this day, our daily bread," sang Captain Broderick. A shock seemed to slide through the room as her voice joined, turning The Lord's Prayer from black to gray.