Pirate

I descended the ladder to the living compartments and found myself in knee-deep water in the galley, its entire contents floating in the water around me. “Rory,” I yelled several times as I moved toward the crew cabins. There were no doors on either and both were empty. I yelled her name again and moved back through the galley, noticing the water was higher on my legs than when I first entered. The door to the captain’s cabin was ajar, and I called her name again before entering. It was empty as well and I feared I would have to go into the hold.

I climbed the companionway stairs two at a time and reached the deck. Four men were gathering the fallen mainsail and called for my help, but I kept moving toward the hold. The water was high enough here that it was not worth using the ladder, and I jumped blindly into the darkness. Chest-deep in water, I swam forward toward the hatch leading to the forward hold, the same compartment where I had found Mason and his men on our ship. I reached it and tugged on the door, but it wouldn’t move. I called her name again, and this time thought I heard a response, but the water pouring in around me was too loud to be certain.

A timber floated by and I reached for it. Barely able to stand, I grasped the board and butted it into the door. Wood splintered, and I hit it several more times, creating a hole large enough to crawl through. I released the board and squirmed through the hole, trying to avoid the jagged edges of the shattered wood. I gained my footing and looked around. It was dark inside, but I saw movement off in a corner.

“Rory,” I yelled, and was sure I heard a voice in return. This hold had not been damaged by the reef and held half the water of the main hold but, with the hatch broken, the water flowed in freely.

“Over here,” she called.

I found her in the same position as the men aboard the ship we had taken, her wrists and ankles manacled to the hull. Furious she had been left to die, I found a loose bar and pried the restraints from the deck.

“Well. Look who it is. My favorite pirate saving me again,” she said as she rose slowly.

“We have to get out of here,” I grabbed her arm and pushed her ahead of me toward the door. “Can you get through the hole?”

She laughed and launched herself through the opening, able to swim through as the water continued to rise. I followed and guided her to the cargo rope hanging from the boom above. I climbed first and then hauled her onto the deck where she sat.

“Can you give us a hand here, mate?” one of the men working the downed sail called.

I looked at Rory, and she nodded. The men were rolling the mainsail, its length parallel with the rail. Two lines long enough to reach around the hull were stretched out by it. A crewman took one end and went forward to the bowsprit, where he passed it under the strut. Another man was there to grab the end and, with one man on the starboard rail and the other the port, they walked the line stretched under the boat until they reached the stern end. Another man called for me to help him do the same, and we stretched a second line below the damaged section of the hull.

The bitter ends of the starboard lines were tied to the rail, and the ends of the lines on the port side were tied to the sail. We hauled on the starboard lines while two men fed the sail overboard, stretching it under the hull. It was hard work and the crew was tense as we tried to keep it tight against the boat. If we allowed it to fill with water, the weight could pull us to the bottom of the sea. I looked at the water below and saw the edge of the sail was now visible above the water on our side. I followed the other men’s lead and tied the lines off. With the patch finally in place, we caught our breath and waited to see if it would take hold.

“Man the pumps,” the lead man called out.

Several men jumped into the hold and water soon shot out of the thru-hull fittings high on the sides of the boat. After a few minutes, the rest of us jumped in and spelled them. I was surprised to find the water only knee deep as I took the handle and started to pump. By the time I tired, the water was ankle deep and we relaxed, exchanging grins.

Rory was still on deck where I had left her when I climbed out, covered in sweat.

“Are you alright?” I asked as I approached her.

“Fine ship you sold me to.”

I ignored the barb and reached down for her. She took my hand and we fell into a tight embrace. I could feel her chest heave and the warmth of her tears on my chest, and let her cry until she was done. Finally she looked up at me. “Thank you.”

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