Captive on the High Seas. Christina Rich

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СКАЧАТЬ The clouds grew darker and heavy. He did not have time for a storm. Not when he actually cared to beat his brother this time around.

      All laughter left his friend’s face as his jaw fell open. “You can’t think to leave port with a storm coming toward us.”

      “I’ve not known you to shy away from a small storm, my friend. Besides, we’ve not the time to waste if we’re to beat my brother.”

      “You’ve drunk seawater to be mad as you are.”

      Nicolaus smacked his friend on the back. “Nay, I admit there’s a risk, but I have the best sailors on board my ship who do not wish to be swallowed by the sea. If you look—” Nicolaus pointed “—the clouds are moving from the southwest. If we hold course and follow the coast north and then west, we’ll get ahead of it and mayhap miss the squall altogether.”

      “It is a relief you don’t intend to sail straight across the sea.”

      One corner of Nicolaus’s mouth twitched. How would his friend feel when the skies cleared?

Chapter Two

      All reasoning had disappeared when the man had tossed her over his shoulder as if he were a barbarian and she nothing more than a sheep to slaughter. She had been fooled by his attire, richly dressed as he was, into believing he was kind, compassionate. She had hoped to convince him to return her to her father. Instead, he treated her no different than that Philistine when he had dragged her around by her hair.

      And now she was being led around a boat. She’d heard of such vessels moving on the Great Sea, but she’d never seen one. Tales told by her father when she was naught but a girl had filled her with excitement. She had longed to experience such adventures until she recalled with clarity how his boat had splintered against rocks leaving him near death.

      The crewman stopped beside a ladder and motioned for her to climb. She tilted her head back. It seemed as if the ladder led to a small room or a pyre. She’d heard the stories of these heathens, who even now lifted prayers to an unfamiliar god. She would not be their sacrifice, not to their god of the sea. As if one existed. Had they not heard of the one true God? The One who created the seas and all the beasts within.

      The boat rocked. Although she understood the motion of the water, she was not prepared for the way it unsteadied her, causing her to stumble toward the wooden rail. White waves crashed against the boat. She sucked in a breath as the sailor lashed his arm around her waist and pulled her back from the edge. Fear clawed at her stomach, making it angry with each movement of the vessel. Her mouth began to water. Before she knew what was happening the man had her bent over the railing as she lost her morning’s meal. She pressed her bound hands to her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed.

      “Better?”

      “My thanks.” She nodded; grateful he’d spoken in her language and not that of her captor. She’d prefer the captain did not know she understood most of his language, especially if it helped her to escape.

      The crewman pointed back toward the ladder. Ada wished to be as far from the sea as possible, yet... She glanced toward the port. If she could gain her freedom could she reach the shore before a sea monster attacked or the water swallowed her? There were people milling about. Would someone help her?

      “Go on. It’s the safest place for you.” He pointed.

      Ada’s stomach once again rebelled. Hands once again pressed to her mouth, she shook her head.

      A shout rose from below. Rows of oars poked through the side. Another shout and the boat lurched forward. Ada stumbled, but gripped the rail to keep from falling. She swallowed back the tears threatening to spill as the boat lurched again, and again. Each movement proceeded by a command. A command that took her farther away from home.

      The man glanced around as if considering Ada’s chance of escape. “Very well. However, you should sit over there.” He tugged on her hands. Shaking his head, he led her to the back end of the boat. The one closest to the shore. “Here. Sit beneath the shade of the helmsman’s perch. You won’t get stepped on and the walls will keep you from falling into the sea. My brother will not be happy I disobeyed his orders and will have my head if anything should happen to you.” He paused as he looked her over. “Considering your sickness, I am certain he will understand.”

      A wave splashed against the boat, spraying upon her face. She pressed her back against the side and slid until she sat on her heels.

      “I have duties to attend. Nicolaus had hoped to leave before the storm.” Nicolaus? This sailor’s brother and captain? It was not one she imagined. More like Leviathan or Goliath. He needed a name that invoked fear in children, not one that made her want to champion him as if he were a hero. He most assuredly was not her hero. Heroes didn’t steal maidens from their homes. It didn’t matter that he didn’t actually steal her, it didn’t matter that he, in truth, saved her from that horrible man, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—think of him as a hero, especially not her hero.

      The man looked toward the sky and Ada followed his gaze. Angry gray clouds hung low, gliding overhead.

      “Seems we’ll sail right into it.” He planted his fists on his hips and shook his head. The boat jolted and then rocked. Could the tipping and tilting of the boat possibly worsen? Ada gasped at the thought, but before she could ponder the panic welling inside her, the boat rolled, jerking her to the side. Instinctively, she flung her bound hands out to keep her head from hitting the planks. The crewman seemed unaware of her predicament or the odd creaks and rolling of the boat. His feet remained planted as she struggled to right herself and keep her stomach from rebelling against the motion. Were the waves making her ill or was it the lingering fear from her father’s tales?

      “I will bring you a drink when I return. It should calm your nerves some.” He turned to leave, and then halted. “Take care. The god of the sea will not likely return as comely a maid as you if you were to fall over.” He left, scratching his head.

      “Bah,” she whispered beneath her breath. Her brother had oft teased her when she was little saying the fabled god would come steal her away to his kingdom if she did not behave. The memory burned the back of her throat. What would Asher say now? However, it was not she who had been about such mischief to cause her trouble.

      The captain’s brother halted near the middle of the boat and glanced at her over his shoulder before disappearing beneath the planks. Ada waited a few moments to see if he would return.

      A shout from the platform above her caused the forward motion of the boat to quicken. Ada’s pulse thundered harder with each jarring movement. She bit at the ropes binding her wrists in hopes of loosening them, but to no avail. Standing, she ducked beneath the helmsman’s perch and leaned over the rail. Her gaze turned homeward. Merchants continued to busy themselves along the wharf. Some carried amphora vases toward the shore, others carried them onto boats. Waves rolled in from the sea, crashing against the stone piers, and her stomach roiled with the motion. She needed off this boat, needed to go home. Her brother had taught her to swim when she was little but never in such a vast body of water and never with her hands bound. All she need do was get into the water and swim on her back, kicking her legs.

      The distance did not seem too far as she could still make out the arms and legs of the seafarers on shore. She gauged the incoming wave as her stomach threatened to unleash its fury. If she did it right, if she jumped before a wave passed, would it push her to shore as it did the pieces of drift being carried toward Ashkelon?

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