Captive on the High Seas. Christina Rich

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?

      She pressed her face against her hands. Then what? Would she end up on the auction block again once she made it to the port city? This time to that horrible man with the matted beard and colorfully dressed women clinging to his arms. No doubt, especially since he had not seemed too happy to find himself outbid. At least she had a chance of returning to her father. And the sisters who had betrayed her.

      Air hitched in her lungs. Had they acted on her father’s wishes? He’d been angry over her mother’s passing. Had he decided to rid himself of his youngest daughter, too? Was that why he had allowed her to journey into the city with Asher and her sisters when he had never done so before?

      The thoughts ambushed her chest, tearing little pieces away from her heart. If she did not return home, she would never see her father again, never know if he had wished her gone from his presence.

      She glanced down the side of the boat and watched the oars dig into the water, pushing the boat forward. If she jumped here, she would miss the oars and by God’s mercy He would see her safely home.

      A look around the deck told her only a few men remained above. The rest, she assumed, tended the oars. The sailor who had helped her earlier had yet to reappear. Armed warriors stood on either side of the captain on a platform at the head of the boat. Nicolaus’s arms were crossed over his chest, his feet braced shoulder width apart. The strong wind tugged at his tunic, brushed back the curls of his hair.

      Power and strength exuded from him and she could quite imagine him the son of one of his fabled gods. Her sisters had oft spoke of such men—half god, half man—with wistful smiles and wistful sighs. Mostly, they were larger than David’s Goliath had been. And they always had some sort of gift. Ada had paid her sisters heed only to gain their acceptance, but she knew better. There were no gods other than the God of Heaven and earth. He was the only living, breathing God. A god not created by the hands of man.

      As if he could feel her eyes on him, the captain turned. His gaze settled on her, warming her chilled limbs from the stiff, stormy breeze. If only they had met under different circumstances. If only he had not acted the barbarian and hauled her over his shoulder as though she was his property. Of course, she was. He paid a great price to own her. However, that did not mean she was not angered by his behavior. Was this how her mother felt when she was bought and taken from her home by Ada’s father?

      A shout drew his attention forward. The boat lifted, slamming Ada against the back of the craft and then to the side. A wave knocked her feet from beneath her and off the boat. She grabbed ahold of the rail and clenched her jaw, her feet dangling over the side. She glanced toward home, now a mere speck in the distance and she knew she’d not be able to swim the distance, not in the angry sea.

      Her fingers ached with the effort to maintain her hold. She lifted her face to the sky. “Abba God, please, I just want to go home to my father.”

      The boat rocked one way, lifting her away, and then the other plunging her into the cold waters. A wave crashed into her forcing her fingers to let go. She was pushed and then pulled, the wave sucking at her and then rolling her. Her lungs caught fire as she kicked her legs, fighting against the sharp talons of the wave.

      * * *

      He had shifted only a bit when the delightful prick