Today's Reading
Now Emilie had to figure out how to get onto the thing. She expected that trying to sneak up the gangplank would be impractical. She was going to have to swim, but first she wanted to see if there was a ladder or net she could use to climb up the hull. She ducked under the ropes blocking the pier and started cautiously down toward the ship.
There was something lumpy between the end of the gangplank and a stack of crates, barely visible in the dark. She thought it was a tarp thrown over a piling. When she was barely five steps away, it stood up.
Emilie flinched back with a smothered curse. The looming figure became a bearded watchman in a battered gray coat. In a voice rough with suspicion, he said, "Hey you, what are you after here?"
Emilie backed away. She should have had a story. "Um, I just wanted to look at the ship. I'm not a thief." She realized a heartbeat later that it was the wrong thing to say. He hadn't accused her of being a thief, just implied that she was a trespasser. Now that she had blurted out the word "thief" like a guilty...thief, he was going to think she was one.
"Having a look at the ship in the dark?" He came forward, still looming, and even more suspicious. "Wouldn't be waiting for the mail, now, would you?"
"I'm not expecting any mail," Emilie said, trying to sound innocent.
Maybe if he thought she was daft, he would let her go.
It did give him pause. She couldn't read his expression in the dark, but he said, in a different tone, "Are you with old Migiltawny's crew?"
Emilie considered the odds. The only choice was between yes or no, and one or the other had to be right. She took a chance. "Yes," she said brightly.
"Migiltawny the dock pirate!" the man roared. "So you're his lookout!"
"What? No!" Oh, hell, Emilie thought. "I didn't know that. I mean, I'm not here for that. I'm not a pirate, either!"
"Oh, you aren't! Let's have a look at you." He flipped the slide on a dark lantern, and in the light he looked bigger and more threatening than before. Emilie started back and he grabbed for her arm.
She wrenched away, heard her jacket rip as she twisted out of his grasping hand, and bolted back up the pier. He didn't chase her and for a moment she thought he would let her go. He had to see she was a young girl, though it would be hard to tell how young in the dark, and she thought herself an unlikely prospect for a mail thief or a dock pirate. But as she reached the pier entrance a piercing whistle split the air, and she heard pounding footsteps. Two more watchmen ran toward her from down the dock.
Emilie stumbled to a halt, looked wildly around, and took the only route left: three quick steps to the edge of the pier and a dive into the dark water.
The cold was a shock; Emilie gasped and swallowed foul salty water. She choked, coughed it up, and started to swim away from the pier.
Behind her the men shouted and light shone on the water as they brought lanterns out. Emilie took a deep breath and went under. She swam as hard as she could and wished she could afford to get rid of her boots. If she ever got the opportunity to try to pass herself off as a legitimate passenger, she couldn't do it barefoot.
She surfaced when her air ran out, close to the pilings of the next pier. She clung to one and looked back at the Merry Bell, and was startled to see its decks lit by a dozen or more lamps, with crew members running back and forth to gather near the gangplank. She groaned to herself. Running away and then jumping dramatically off the pier probably hadn't helped convince them she wasn't a mail-thief-pirate-robber, but she couldn't tell them the truth, either. She had no idea what they did to stowaways. It probably isn't as bad as what they do to pirates, she thought.
This plan was turning into a disaster, and it was her own fault. The Merry Bell, as disturbed as a trodden-on anthill, was out. She would have to look for another day steamer, or wait until the Coastal Ferry returned late tomorrow and try to sneak aboard it. In the meantime, she needed a place to hide until they grew tired of looking for her, and convinced themselves there was no gang of robbers ready to descend on them.
She should be better at this. Her mother had been a runaway too, and Emilie had never been allowed to forget it. Obviously it didn't run in the blood. Uncle Yeric would be so surprised. She paddled to the end of the pier, trying not to splash too much, and looked for another ship.
There was one two piers over, the decks lit by several lamps. Her teeth already chattering, she paddled toward it for a better look.
...
