3
C A P T I V E S
Colin awoke. It was night. The sound of frightened voices filled the air.
Colin turned to Fiona, chained up next to him. Her eye was purple and bleeding.
Colin felt her hand but couldn’t see her. “Fiona, what’s wrong?”
“Quiet.” She whispered. She kept wincing when she closed her eyes.
Colin felt her face and blood stained his hand. “What happened?”
Fiona pushed him away. “Colin, pretend you’re asleep.”
“Asleep? Why?”
“Just do it!”
“What are you two talking about?” Came a scraggly old voice. An ill smelling old man tipped Fiona’s chin up with his boney fingers.
Colin saw Fiona hold back tears when the old man scratched her with his long fingernails. It wasn’t by accident.
“Don’t you touch her!” He went to strike him and in an instant, a pointy sword was at his neck.
“Maybe where you come from it’s different, but around here, the slaves aren’t the ones giving orders.” His breath smelled like dead fish.
Colin was still until he moved his sword. “Where are we?”
“You don’t know?”
“Where did you take us?!”
“On a ship. The Captain’s ship. The finest ship in the world.”
It was strange for Colin to yell, so he must have really meant it.
Colin hurt all over. “What did you do?”
“You must have broken your leg.”
Colin tried to free himself from the chains. He wanted to cry.
“Your sister here has felt pain, it’s time you feel your share.”
A younger man walked up. “When I went to grab her, she punched me in the eye.” He chuckled.
Colin didn’t understand. “What did you do?” He asked.
“Well, I had my men punch her right back.” He laughed as if he enjoyed tormenting him. But he did enjoy it.
Colin tried not to cry.
Fiona laid her hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Colin. These heathens are just full of blarney and haven’t got an ounce of sense.”
The older man walked away, and the younger one came closer.
“My name is Ronan Blackwell and I am the leader of this ship.” He smiled proudly. He went to shake Colin’s hand teasingly and Colin spit on it.
Ronan laughed. “I try to be fairly decent with you slave, but you push me away?”
Colin glared into the man’s despised eyes. “Why would I want to do anything more but push you away? You—you heathen! You menace!”
Ronan kicked him.
Colin groaned with pain.
Fiona stayed silent.
Ronan left and whispered to one of his men, “Keep an eye on those two, will ya?”
As the sun began to rise, Fiona noticed something. Ronan was tan but I looked different than the others. He also had dusty brown hair to his shoulders. All his crewmen were brown and dark tan with black hair, nearly passing their ears. Most of the men wore hats to cover their head. But not Ronan. His voice was different also. Similar to both Irish and a bit of Muslim. He looked very skinny. Skinnier than Colin.
Fiona whispered to Colin, “Don’t worry. We’ll escape. And I’ll get ya seein’ in no time.”
Colin hoped she was true. How could they escape? Colin could hardly walk, and the ship was heavily guarded. This all seemed like one big nightmare. And Colin wished desperately to awaken from it.
4
A C R O S S T H E S E A
Colin woke up to the old man grabbing his shirt. “Get up, you filth! Swab the deck and make yourself useful.”
Colin ignored him.
“I said, get up!” He dragged Colin by his shirt collar and tossed him onto the dirty floor.
“When Bartley tells you to do a job…you obey it.” Came Ronan’s annoyingly prideful voice. “He is one of my best crewmen.”
Bartley’s dirty face turned red and he smiled, showing his four, yellow, crooked teeth. “Ya don’t mean that, do ya?”
Ronan patted him on the back. “Well of course, I do. Now get back to work. Set the course for south. Arabia, home sweet home awaits us, friends.” He shouted to his crewmen. Not the slaves.
“What did you say?” Came Fiona’s quick voice.
Ronan turned to her. “You heard me.”
“I heard you?”
Ronan rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing more annoying than an Irish lass. We’re going to Arabia.”
Fiona’s eyes filled with fear. “We’re going to Arabia?”
Ronan looked at her teasingly. “Why do you keep repeating everything I say?”
Fiona became quiet. She wanted to kick that stupid lad.
She suddenly remembered when Mama used to read them The Sacred Book. The Holy Bible.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”
Fiona could almost hear Mama’s voice and feel her warm touch. Fiona missed Mama more than anything.
Colin swabbed the deck and scrubbed the floors. He was treated far worse than any of the other slaves. And when Bartley would notice Colin’s heavy breathing and exhausted, shaking legs, he would even sometimes relieve the other captives of their work. But of course, they were never actually relieved. The Irish stood together. If one felt the pain, they all did. Without thinking, one Irish lad stood up, grabbed a mop and actually began cleaning the deck with Colin. His brave act inspired others to help. Fiona went to stand up, but Ronan pushed her down with his hand. “You, my darling, can stay here.” His long fingernails rested on her shoulder.
Fiona tried not to be too angry at him, for she knew God had forgiven her, so she must forgive him. But sadly, Colin’s heart was so full of fury and rage, that he hated Ronan with every ounce of strength and hatred he had.
It had been two days since the raid on Ireland.
Ronan often talked to Fiona and offered her water and food when he thought she might be hungry.
Colin despised him for it.
One night, Ronan helped Fiona with her eye. He wiped the hardened blood off with a rag. Then he bandaged it up. “There. That man shouldn’t have hurt you so.”
Fiona furied inside. “You told them to.” Though Fiona didn’t particularly like Ronan and wanted nothing to do with him, she still felt curious why he was kinder to her than the rest. “Where did you learn to heal black eyes?” She asked him.
The eighteen year old boy, who tried to pretend to be much older, answered, “My mother taught me. She died…not that long after we left for sea. We went back and…” He sighed.
Fiona smiled gently. “My mama’s died too. My papa also.” The thought brung tears to her eyes.
Ronan wiped them away with his handkerchief. “Don’t cry. Slaves are supposed to be tough for the work, aren’t they?”
Fiona went to slap him but he caught her hand in the air.
“I thought you were being kind!” She yelled.
“I was. But in the end, the master has to remind the slave of her place.”
Fiona almost cried. She pushed his hand away and went to leave from the little ship’s cabin.
Ronan spoke as she was leaving. “I have medicine to heal your brother’s legs.”
Fiona turned around. “Are you for real…or is it just more blarney?”
Ronan grinned. “It’s real. And it’s hidden. But if you promise not to jump overboard or try anything to escape…I’ll heal your brother. I might even grant him freedom.”
Fiona didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to be disappointed and find out that he had been lying. Only a moment ago, she had actually felt kindness toward him. But that was very brief.
“If you promise to me, that you’ll keep your word…then…” She glanced out the small window. “I’ll be yours for as long as you wish.”
Ronan grinned. “I accept.”
“You have to promise.”
“Alright.” Ronan’s so-calm-at-all-times voice disturbed her. There was something about this Ronan Blackwell. Something mysterious. She felt as if he were trying to keep something hidden. And just in case he was hiding something, she tried to act as if she had no suspicion, whatsoever.
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