Living On The Edge


4. The Massive Ship with Black Flags

She awoke to her face pressed against Charles’s chest. Her face felt dry like sand. And then it all hit her. Her hate. Him. Hate. Him. Hate him. She tried to give him a whack but her arms were trapped due to the act that he was sleeping on them. Her legs? Trapped between his. Even though he was unconscious he was still strong and it wasn’t giving up. His eyes opened and he stared at her.

“Let go of me.” She hissed at him.

“Izz…” He said hopelessly.

“Don’t try to make this better. Its useless.” The harm is done she nearly added. But she didn’t. He sighed.

“Izz…” she held up a hand to motion for him to be silent  he sighed “I know just one thing. How did you get on board?”  


She stomped out of his room, a murderous look on her face. She had told him nothing. The lying bastard deserved nothing. He went to work on seas? Ha. Missed her? Liar. Wanted to marry her. In her dreams. Isobel stomped one way and Charles went the other. She turned around and stomped pass him. It happened like that several times. They passed by her luggage-ticket-to-this-hell-room.  They made their way outside on the boat and she stood looking at the large boat of her demise. She shook her head. Above the rest of the ship was a few feet tall and quite long upper layer with the steering wheel and to get up there. A little hobbly ladder. Behind the steering wheel-which was ginormous and wooden, the crew sat with wooden crates and boxes and they sat eating. Charles went up before her since she was to busy looking at everything. She went up next, her head up high and nostrils flared. She stared at the crew. They stared back. A older than Charles man said

“Whoze she?”

“This is…”

“Isobel.” Isobel interrupted."My name is Isobel."

“And how, young lady did you get on this boat ‘ere?” Isobel wouldn’t reply. The man looked at Charles and he only shrugged. “How?” he asked pressing more, his hand resting on his sword.

“A window.” She replied stiffly looking at the crew which consisted of mostly young men but a few old and all of them slightly or more than slightly muscular.

“Which window?”

“One that was near the dock. With a bunch of bags and such in it.” She replied.

“For how long?”

“Well I live in England, where you started. Actually a short ways away from the dock.”

The old man stared at a young man, who she slightly recognized from the luggage room. Then he turned back to her as the mans face turned red.

“And why?”

“Curiosity,you idiot.” She replied, ignoring the intake of breath behind her.

“And whad’u suppose we do with this lil bugger stowaway?” the old man asked the crew, getting up pulling out his sword. Isobel took a cautious step back. Charles intercepted the old man by placing a hand in front of him. He whispered a few words to him. The old man stood upright.

“Nothing.” Charles sighed. ‘Just nothing.”

“We keep ‘er?”

“We’ve got to.”

“But its bad luck to have a lady…” Isobel glared at the man.

“What about last night? Still bad luck?”

“That doesn't count…”

“Shut it.” Isobel said getting quickly to her feet, her fists raised. The man did, looking miserable,but he did.

 “Aye she’s feisty.” Said someone who looked around her age, dirty blonde bedraggled hair.  Someone else muttered something to the Blonde, who looked slightly amused at what he said and Isobel guessed what he said. Her nostrils flared and she took a menacing step towards him.  The blonde muttered a few words to her offender and the brown eyed suggester backed away before she had the chance to smack him. Charles called out to her, telling her to pull over a crate and sit next to the wheel , as much as she wasn’t to rebel, she didn’t know where to go so she followed his orders stiffly. Charles turned to the wheel and steered the massive ship with black flags. 

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