In which the Woman is deceived and the Sotern Maid runs to the Gulf

The silence held the port taut and brittle, stretching endless and foreboding as the Horse Belt with the wind lost. That scarlet malevolence sent her thugs closer down the dock. We held the last berth, so we had the most time, but no one else was moving.

Harrison stepped to the rail beside me. "Cap'n. We may have to take the risk. The she-devil's men are only 2 boats away."

A racket broke out up the dock, opposite. The four-man fisher Jamaica Favor had lain ready before the quiet, lines slipped, sails unfurled. A crosswind caught her open sails with one of the thugs stepping aboard and the boat drifted a yard out. The woman jerked away from us, toward the unfortunate fishermen.

"This is our chance." I gave Harrison a push toward the deck. "Move, but quiet about it."

The other ships were also making to head out. Sails were trimmed, lines were cast off or cut and men scuttled over the boards, all in a dumb show. The woman stalked toward the Favor, screeching things I couldn't make out other than the occasional "boy." Thugs lined the dock.

I don't blame her captain for choosing the open sea with that howling woman as his option. But I stand it looked a mite suspicious for him running full toward the Western Gulf.

We slid out the bay in a pack, slinking dogs all, shamed and running while the ill-chanced Favor bore the brunt. The boy lay safe above the wilding wet, rocked in the skiff of the Sotern Maid. None knew what lay ahead. Perhaps, no one but him.
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The Skirtling Boy will be posted on Mondays and Thursdays for the next two weeks.