A Lamb Among Lions

Her father kept her hair short, her face muddy and her clothes loose and dirty. He told her never to speak, never to make eye contact with the other men on the ship. If they ever found out she was a woman, there would be hell to pay.

He was an excellent cook, her father. She watched him closely every day as he took the most meager of rations and fed the dozens of loud, stinky men that cursed and spat and pounded the tabletops for more wine.

She always slept on the floor at the foot of his wooden cot On days when the sea was at its worst, choppy and bursting with frigid air, he would let her curl up like a cat and sleep on his legs so she could warm them both. Sometimes she struggled with nightmares and would cry out; he would be there to softly rouse her. His voice was always deep and melodic as he soothed her back to sleep. “Hush there now my little lamb. All is well, hush now sweet lamb.”

She was a lamb among lions, timid and scared to be found out, but also deeply loved by her strong and caring father. She worked alongside him, carrying the buckets of scraps to the barrels, cleaning the floors, moving the heavy loads of crates that would be stolen from other ships. She didn’t mind the work, it made her strong, made her body lean with muscle.

Sometimes at night, her father would sneak her above deck so she could learn about the stars. One stunningly bright night was a particularly beautiful one, the moon thick with light and dancing just above them. Her father was directing her eyes towards the largest constellations of stars and teaching her their names and specific significance. He always praised her for her sharp eyesight, how she could see anything, even on the darkest nights. She believed it was because she spent so many days in the bowels of the wooden ship hiding from others and sneaking around in the darkness.

Suddenly, something odd caught her attention, something darker than the night, bouncing along the horizon of the sea.

“Papa, what is that?” she whispered.

He turned to follow her outstretched arm pointing in the direction of the shadowy mass hidden in the wake of their own ship.

“Get below, little lamb,” he said with an abrupt intensity and shoved her towards the porthole that would take her to their tiny room. “Get under my cot, and do not come out unless you see my face. Understood?”

She nodded, her heart suddenly struck with terror as she ducked down and scurried to follow his instructions. Just as she made it to the room and slid under the bed, she heard her father holler to the half-drunk sleeping crew.

“Sail HO!”

Eerie silence for a few seconds, and then her world exploded. The bootsteps on the deck were thunderous, every man was screaming orders. She could hear the grizzled captain shouting. “Haul wind, don’t let ‘em catch us!”

Oh no, no please, don’t be pirates, she thought to herself as she laid there shivering in fear.

But it was. She could hear the whistling of cannon fire as it shot past the ship.

Again the captain shouted. “Don’t let her catch us broadside!”

Just as he finished his words, a mighty explosion rocked the ship as a cannonball burst through the mast and brought the crow’s nest crashing to the deck. Men were screaming, she could hear them jumping overboard as they jettisoned cargo and anything else that may hold value.

She heard heavy steps coming towards her, and she held her breath.

“Little lamb, come out quickly, we’ve no time to waste. ‘Tis a Jolly Roger gaining speed on us fast and we need to get you off this ship.”

She crawled out from under the cot and saw her father standing there stuffing a bag with food and clothes. He spun her around and pushed her towards the kitchen with enough force to make her stumble and lose her ill-fitting shoes. She turned and bent over to pick them up just as another cannonball grazed the side of the ship, tearing away pieces of the planks and ripping apart the deadlights. Bitingly cold water began to spray into the cabin where they stood and soaked them both.

“Get to the barrels!” her father shouted.

Her shoes forgotten, she turned on her heels and ran towards the barrels as her father grabbed the small chest from under his hay-stuffed mattress.

“Which barrel Papa?!” she asked, her voice tiny and tremoring.

“The one in the back, covered in tar. Take the lid off and climb inside.”

Plucking the lid from the barrel, she could smell the thick tacky tar that had hardened around the bowed wooden beams. Hoisting herself up, she gracefully lowered herself into the barrel as her father tossed in the bag and small chest. The barrel was small, but surely they would both fit, she thought as she hugged her legs to her chest to accommodate her father’s size.

Peering inside, her father smiled. “You’re such a tiny little lamb. Hush now, it’ll be alright, I love you.” His eyes danced in the light, and she could see that they shimmered with fear and pain, pain at knowing what was to come.

“Papa….” she whispered. She watched him lower the lid, sinking her into the obscurity of the barrel, and she heard the squeaking of the metal hoop as he sealed her in.

The barrel that was now her cocoon was jostled as her father picked her up and steadied the cumbersome weight on his shoulders. He hurried up the steps to toss the water tight barrel overboard. The impact of hitting the water caused her head to slam against the wall, blasting her closed eyes with flickering stars.

She plucked the cork from the tiny hole in the side of the barrel. Splashes of chilly night seawater assailed her eyes but she forced herself to look out.

There her father stood, on the deck of the decimated ship watching her barrel float away. The other ship, with its black flag and bright skull, was now moored alongside it and dozens of dark figures were boarding their bounty. Her father went to his knees, his hands stretched to the air as a giant of a man swung a sword toward his throat.

“I’m only a cook, have mercy!” he shouted.

The sword halted. The giant man leaned down and hollered with glee. “A cook ye say?! ‘Tis a good haul to be sure! Our last cook died eating his own food!” The rest of the crew behind the giant whooped with laughter and she watched her father get towed away.

She watched as long as she could keep her eyes open. The ship she’d been on moments before was now completely below the surface, dragged to the bottom of the sea and the other ship, the one with its giant of a captain, was silhouetted only by the light of the moon as it slowly faded against the horizon.

“I’ll find you Papa, I swear I will. Please don’t forget your little lamb,” she called out to nobody as she leaned against the wall of the barrel and wept.