Woman Overboard

Chapter 8 : Fight (2)

Afiba

August 27th, 1820

(6:48 AM)

Afiba flew down the staircase, her feet barely touching the steps. She launched herself down the hallway and around the corner, feeling sick with panic as speed exploded out of her, carrying her to the dining hall as if she was floating on the coattails of the wind.

She didn't stop when she reached the doors. Throwing them aside, she called, "Aless? Aless, you there?"

The heavy blanket of eyes watching her weighed on Afiba, forcing her to slow down. Panting, she yelled again, "Aless?"

"Wha's goin' on, cap'n?" someone asked, but she pushed by them. Panic blinded her, making the world shiny and surreal as a painting.

She called again and again, her fear growing larger with each unanswered cry. Where could she be, if not eating breakfast? "Aless!" she called one last time.

Finally, a response came. "Oh. Are you alright?"

Afiba spun around to find Alessandra standing in the doorway, about to enter the dining room with her fingers wrapped around Danielle's. Danielle flashed her a shy grin, burying her face in her mother's leg when their eyes met.

But she had no time for being endeared. "Aless," she hissed, taking the other woman by the arm. "Ye need to come with me."

Aless looked startled. She detached herself from Danielle, pointing to the cabin boy. "You see Jamie over there?" she asked Dani in a soft voice. "Go with him, okay? Ask him for some pancakes."

Dani's face lit up. "Pancakes!" She tugged her hand away from her mother's running off without another word.

"Bye," Aless sighed. She then turned back to Afiba. "What is the matter? You seem a bit panicked."

Afiba nodded. "Oh, no, you'll see it in a sec," she assured Aless. "I'll be damned if you's not gonna be panickin', too."

She motioned for Aless to follow her, hurrying out the doors again. She called for Afiba to slow down, but should couldn't. Her legs pumped on their own accord, carrying her back up the stairs and across the slippery deck, all the way to the bow.

"No need to run," panted Alessandra. She leaned on the wall, her head tucked in her arms. "Oh, it's too early in the morning for this."

Afiba shook her shoulder. "Look!" she yelled. "What'er ye doin'? We ain't got time for yer gripin'! Look!"

Aless sighed, lifting her eyes to the sea. For a moment she said nothing. Then, a long string of swears fell from her mouth, punctuated by, "We're screwed."

Ahead of them floated a thick, dark ship, its bow facing theirs like a ram ready to charge. Its sails hung clean and white, a sign of a well financed crew. And on the deck stood that crew, like a thick cloud of fog on the horizon.

"Bounty hunters," growled Aless.

"Slave catchers," Afiba corrected her.

Aless held her head in her hands again, shaking with agitation. "What if it's both?"

"Well, what'er the be, their close! We ain't got no more'n ten minutes to get ready! That ain't enough time. They gonna slaughter us, Aless."

The woman took a deep breath, running her hand over her face. "Okay," she said. "Okay, let's not panic yet. We have a larger crew now, don't we?"

"They ain't armed!" Afiba cried. "Half yer men lost their weapons weeks ago! An' we ain't got enough spares to go 'round. Jus' look at that crew, Aless. We don' stand a chance."

They stared hopelessly together at the ship, its massive crew looming like a storm cloud. Below them, their crew ate breakfast with no idea of what was to come. They were still mourning the losses and casualties of last night; Afiba couldn't imagine what their reaction might be when they learned of their new opponent.

"The Francis," Aless read from the side of the ship. "Oh, lord. They would be government funded, no? They have guns, Afiba, two each at least. We ought to just surrender."

Afiba shook her head. "No," she said. "We fight. We migh' lose, but 'least we be able to say we fought."