Page 18 of Escaping Pirates (Legends of Neverland #4)

B y the time morning arrived, Harlan’s breathing had devolved to a deep, rattling cough, and he shivered constantly despite being hot to the touch.

It was the mold and miserable living conditions, I was certain.

Something similar had happened to me soon after I’d arrived, but Sugar and Blossom had forced me to continue my work despite my illness making it so I could barely walk.

I didn’t remember those days well; my mind either hadn’t been working properly at the time or else was now subconsciously blocking those memories to protect me.

I threw an accusatory glare at the mildewy straw, the rats, and the portholes across the walkway where frigid gusts of air kept swirling in.

Even though Harlan had been getting enough to eat, the conditions were unlivable for long.

Both of us would develop infections or catch some disease that would cause permanent damage unless treated soon.

“Take the quilt,” I insisted, forcing it through the bars. “You need it.”

Harlan shoved it away. “I d-d-don’t want it,” he stammered through chattering teeth. Goosebumps stood up all over his arms and his entire body trembled. Even if I put the lantern close, it still wouldn’t be nearly enough heat to help him.

“Harlan, please,” I begged, trying again to pass the heavy quilt over, but he kept shaking his head. It was costing him so much of his precious energy to refuse what I was offering. He would get worse if he wasn’t tended to, and soon.

The brig door banged open, and Gavvet came stumping in as usual to take me to help Sugar and Blossom get ready for the day.

“Take the quilt once I’m gone,” I told Harlan in a low, rushed voice.

He adamantly shook his head, and my panic grew. He needed help immediately.

“C’mon, girl,” the pirate said with a grunt. The key screeched in the lock, and there was a grating sound as the door scraped across the floor.

“He’s sick,” I told Gavvet. “Please, is there a medic aboard who can see him?”

“Not my problem,” he said dismissively.

Harlan coughed again and my anxiety increased. He and I were a team. How was I supposed to plan an escape for me and a man who was ill and getting worse by the minute?

Gavvet grabbed my upper arm to haul me up the stairs. I threw a last, frantic look over my shoulder. Harlan had propped himself up on one elbow to wave but collapsed back down with a groan.

Panic whined in my brain, insistently demanding my attention. What Harlan needed was better conditions and preferential treatment, and as much as I wished I could be the one to give that to him, I couldn’t.

Sugar and Blossom, however, did have that capability .

“Harlan’s sick,” I told them the moment I entered, noticing as I did so that their quarters were significantly warmer than the brig. Harlan should be here.

Instantly, both girls sat up and began asking questions that spilled over each other.

“What happened?”

“How sick is he?”

“Can he still come rub my feet today?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

I blinked several times, trying to decipher each question from the constant stream of talking.

“He seems pretty sick. He needs medical attention and to get warmed up, and he can’t do that in the brig.

What if—” I steeled myself and inhaled deeply.

“What if instead of me helping you two today, you bring Harlan up here to rest? I think the living conditions are playing a role in his illness, and you both could take care of Harlan.”

I despised the mental image those words created, of Sugar and Blossom laying quilts over Harlan, draping cloths over his forehead and bringing him hot meals. It would make anyone feel cared for, and he needed that.

The girls hesitated.

“Men love being taken care of when they’re sick,” I pressed. “He would enjoy it.”

“Help us get ready first, then we’ll take care of him,” Sugar said. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

I had never helped them faster, but it still felt like an eternity before Harlan was escorted up.

In the daylight, he looked dreadful. His eyes looked sunken and hollow, he stayed hunched over and shivering, and he kept coughing so violently his entire body shook.

Even so, he tried to force a smile when he saw me .

“I’ll have Thad bring up some honey lemon tea,” Sugar said.

“I’ll read to you all day,” Blossom added. “And I’ll get someone to stoke the fire in the brazier. Gavvet! Make it warmer in here.”

Gavvet did so, adding an additional log to the hooded brazier that warmed the room.

Harlan nodded his thanks at them and sank down onto the sofa.

Immediately, I approached with some blankets.

I draped the first one on, secretly passing the cork back to Harlan as I did so, but before I could add another blanket, Sugar snatched them out of my hands.

“I’ll do that,” she insisted, booting me to the side with her hip. “Go away and clean something. But not in here. We want some privacy.” She and Blossom draped blankets over Harlan and sat at his sides. They would be the ones to give him tea and soup to help him get better.

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt, and a burning sensation consumed my chest, but it wasn’t anything like the heat I’d felt the night before.

Spots dotted my vision, but I turned away.

This was what Harlan desperately needed.

I ought to be grateful that he was getting the necessary attention and care, and while I was glad he would recover more quickly, I also harbored a fervent desire to set fire to the sisters’ hair and stick needles into their chairs.

I strode out of their quarters and paused when I reached the deck.

“Move, girl,” a crewman said as two of them went bustling past, carrying a rolled-up canvas.

I retreated to the ship’s railing and clutched it, staring at the vast emptiness and enormity of the ocean.

It felt like a moment of freedom, but I was still trapped on a sea of imprisonment.

The salty wind tugged at my hair like it wanted to take me somewhere else, any where else, and I wished more than anything that it could.

Anyone who loved the horizon out at sea must be insane.

It stretched out like an eternity of captivity with no shore in sight.

There was only blue on blue where the sky bled to fill the vast depths below.

What did it matter that Sugar and Blossom weren’t ordering me around for what felt like the first time in months?

What did it matter that Captain Harsh didn’t have me tied me up in my cell?

It didn’t make any difference having my hands unbound when I was still caged by the unforgiving ocean.

Even if I could escape, would I be able to leave Harlan behind?

He was grappling with a raging fever and was being pampered by them . They would play nursemaid with their soft hands and lace-trimmed sleeves, trying to win his affection by catering to him like he was some toy to be fussed over and flirted with.

My jaw clenched again.It didn’t matter that I had no claim on him.

I still hated that it wasn’t me at his side.

I couldn’t give him what he needed, and I certainly couldn’t voice the growing feelings that were becoming too insistent to ignore.

If Harlan didn’t see me the same way, if this longing, aching between us was all in my head or one-sided, then I’d lose the only person who made this floating prison bearable.

But even if I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t soothe him, I had todosomething.

My gaze drifted over to the door leading down to the brig.

Harlan was sick because of that wretched place, because of the damp straw, stale air, and filth that clung to every corner of his cell. I couldn’t give Harlan medicine or comfort, but I could make sure the place he woke up in wasn’t trying to kill him all over again.

It was ridiculous. Pointless, maybe. But it was something, and I was certain that Harlan would be willing to do the same for me.

He would have scrubbed every inch of that cell if it were me coughing through fevered dreams. I headed for the closet with cleaning supplies I knew so well.

I didn’t need a shoreline to feel grounded.

All I needed was a reason to keep going.

Besides, Sugar had told me to clean something, and who was I to disobey orders?

The same smell that always lingered below deck hit me with additional force when I entered the brig, thick enough to choke on.

The brig had always smelled bad, but now, knowingthat Harlan was suffering because of it?

It felt personal, like the ship itself had joined forces with our captors to conspire against us.

I clutched the sudsy bucket and stiff-bristled brush and glared at the grime in the cells with a ferocity.

Gavvet had been in such a hurry to get Harlan out that his cell door had been left ajar.

I entered and began by clawing out every bit of straw and heaping it into the furthest corner of the brig, next to the raided liquor cabinet.

It would be better to have no straw in his cell than that foul stuff.

Every scratch of straw dug into my skin and under my nails like a protest, but I didn’t care.

I also disposed of his filthy and ratted blanket. I would force Harlan to share my quilt if necessary. He wouldn’t get worse if I could help it. I continued on until nothing remained in the cell other than the bunk, then got down onto my hands and knees and began to scrub.

I scrubbed the planks with the stiff-bristled brush, dunking it repeatedly into the water then attacking each bit of mildew and mold with a vengeance. I might not be able to make the brig clean, but I could do my best to make it less foul.