Romance Novel (Untitled)

Chapter Four

         Hot humid fits of fever, hardly remembered images or thoughts, uncomfortable, interminable periods of vague unease and acute confusion. So Suzanne passed the night, knowing nothing, but feeling much.

         Morning brought lances of painful light to her eyes, and a sullen, malevolent thud to the base of her skull. The lid of the crate had slid since being loaded, and now a rolling motion slurred the heavy wood past the tipping point. Morning increased her bounty, bringing fresh cool air; nauseating smells of fish and sweat, mildew and rope; a familiar, gentle rocking; and mumbled shadows of obscure dreams that might once have been memories.

         The young woman in the box moaned, and tried to sit up. Cries of surprise needled into her ears. The sliding crate lid had drawn attention from the deckhands. A deep voice called with authority for someone to rouse the Captain.

         She opened her eyes to slits and tried to peer at the source of the voice. A merciless blue sky dwarfed an indistinct silhouette, drove her eyes tightly shut again, and she turned away.

         “Be still, Miss.” the voice commanded. “The Captain will attend momentarily.” Gentle, but firm. A voice that reminded her of… Nothing…

         The girl’s eyes opened wide, focusing on green and yellow ropes, gray and brown wood. The voice reminded her of-- But there was nothing. She realized then that there was a vast nothing behind her eyes. Where was she, and why? Why was she sitting in a box of ropes? Who was she?!

But there was no time for her to think, to get her bearings. Another voice cut through the glare.

"What's the meaning of this?"

The voice had a Spanish accent, but it was free from the seagoing cadence of yar and hie and matey. She was glad; she had heard far too much of that in... In... Where?!

"We can put 'er back to shore, sir. Woman on board's a curse no how, aye?"

There's that ignorant talk, she thought to herself.

There was a pause before the captain spoke again. "No. Take her to my quarters. We must be gentlemen, my lads." There was something cruel and mocking hiding beneath his genteel facade. She shuddered, but she stood up to face him.

The rocking of the boat beneath her was comforting, and she swayed with it easily, the way the rider of a horse might naturally move up and down with the horse as he canters. She looked at the Captain and answered: "I accept your invitation, kind sir."

At that, the captain could no longer keep a straight face. He burst out laughing, and the rest of the crew followed suit. "As though... Ah! As though it were a choice!" Her face burned as the deck full of men laughed at her.
[And this is where I'm stuck]