The Captain of Her Heart by Anita Stansfield
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Kyrah merged slowly into an awareness of the horrible ache at the back of her head. She drifted in and out of consciousness, vaguely mindful of the mooring of the ship, which only added to the dizziness that stifled any effort to open her eyes. As the memories came together in her mind, the reality of her surroundings began to sink in. The tangible evidence that she had not been dreaming made her gasp as the horror of her circumstances consumed her. She was being deported for reasons that had nothing to do with the law.
She forced her eyes open and gradually took in her surroundings. The tiny cabin held only a narrow bunk where she lay. The glass of the little porthole was thick and mottled, making it impossible to see anything. Only the vague light coming through the glass let her know it was daylight.
The desperation of her circumstances forced her to sit up. She groaned from the pain in her head and reached back to find dried blood in her hair. Stumbling to the door, she wasn’t surprised to find it locked, but she beat her fists against the hard wood, calling, pleading for someone—anyone—to let her out. Pacing the tiny cabin between bouts of screaming at the door, she became more keenly aware of the sea rolling beneath her. She wondered how long they’d been sailing while she tried to think of ways to escape this cabin cell and swim back to shore.
A thought occurred to her that deepened her panic. She frantically searched for her bag and was relieved to find it beneath a large burlap sack on the floor. The size of the sack made her wonder if she had been brought aboard inside of it. Looking closer at her clothing, she found remnants of the burlap clinging to the fabric. As another question struck her she tore through the contents of her bag, fearing she might have been robbed as well. Her relief was indescribable when she found the diamond necklace and earrings right where she’d left them. Fearing some future search of her belongings, she carefully removed the thread of a small section of wide hem around one of her skirts. She slipped the box into the hem and slid it far beyond the opening. Then she folded it, along with her other clothing, making it all appear very ordinary. As an added precaution, she slid the bag beneath the bunk, into the corner as far as it would go. When that was seen to, she made another attempt at getting someone’s attention.
Kyrah’s heart quickened with a combination of hope and fear when, at last, a key turned in the lock. The fear overruled as two burly sailors, who didn’t smell any better than they looked, entered the room. She recalled one of them being in the carriage with the constable. She backed into a corner as he said to the other, “You grab ’er an’ I’ll give ’er some o’ this stuff afore she gets the cap’n down ’ere t’ really keep ’er quiet.”
Kyrah stepped onto her bed and lunged for the open door, but one of the sailors quickly blocked it with his broad body. She tried to scream, but a dirty hand clapped over her mouth until they had her down on the bed, pouring something between her lips. Kyrah bit a finger then tried to spit the bitter liquid out, but that hand came back over her mouth and nose, and she had no choice but to swallow. Almost immediately her vision became hazy, and her limbs went weak as she attempted once more to stand up and get away. She was thrown back onto the narrow bed, and her last coherent thought was the hope that this was some kind of poison, capable of taking her eternally away from all this misery.