Pirate Peril

Sequel to Winter Crisis. I wrote this around 6 months ago, before I knew about this website, but enjoy all the same! Sorry for the current absence of a cover, I'll have one soon, as it is handrawn. And I'll also find the blurb to add.
We join Lydia on her second adventure, as she sets out on the deep when chaos hits home. Can she survive the raging waters?
(Complete.)

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2. Set Sail

Waves lashed the wooden planks of the boat. Mr Anderson, in all his glory, stood taking in the morning air. The ship he was sailing on was long and slender, polished wood gleaming in the light of day, masts rattling wildly, the ‘USS 54’ was as tall as the oak it came from. “USS 54 is more of a formal name,” the ship’s captain said to Mr Anderson when he had boarded. “Call it Voyager.” Mr Anderson soon discovered that almost everyone called the ship ‘Voyager’.

One crewman offered to take him on a tour of the ship. The man wore a frayed shirt (the shirt used to be white) and a worn brown overcoat, his trousers were murky green rags. “Name’s Andy,” spoke the man, “Andy Stallward.” He said it as if he was proud or as if it were some kind of sacred chant. As Andy spoke, his milky, blue eyes shone, despite all the rest of him, Andy’s eyes sparkled like diamonds! “Let’s get going now or we’ll miss the evening show.” Andy sung, beginning to walk away as he spoke. Mr Anderson followed suit.

The ship was grand-mostly. However, the men on it were far from that, all of them, like Andy, were dressed in poorly-looked-after clothing, also like Andy, they were smiling. After being shown round half the ship, Mr Anderson reached the kitchens, where he saw not men, but women, dressed in pristine white robes. A rather cruel looking woman walked up to Mr Anderson, and snapped, “Great, another one. Look here Mister-stay put and shut up, or you leave.” After that ‘wonderful’ welcome, Mr Anderson was sent to the head of the boat. He set up his things in his cabin and agreed to attend the show with the head of the ship.

Upon their arrival at the show, the two men took a seat in the corner, where the tables were draped in white cloth. As the night went on-and everyone got drunk-Mr Anderson’s mind slipped off to thoughts of Egypt. Who would he meet? What would he find? When would he find it? Was Lydia safe? All these questions were unanswerable. By now, everyone was leaving, except the captain, who dragged him aside as he made for the doorway. “Listen, these men don’t take kindly to socializing after they’ve gone down the way of a hangover. Better watch your back, eh?” He said, his Irish accent growing stronger.

While he strode back to his cabin, Lydia’s father tried to make sense of the captain’s words-however he did not succeed… He fluffed his pillows, or what he thought could’ve been a pillow, it was a round, cylindrical piece of fabric which was stuffed with wool. He then turned over his quilts that were overturned and hanging off the bedpost. This would be a long night-or would it? Lydia’s father wandered out onto the deck. He stood there, the wind rushing through his hair, his clothing billowing out behind him as the stars above him glimmered like tiny gemstones. Then, he leaned over the railings. Perhaps, if he knew what was about to happen, he would be more cautious…

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