♡

For Tess

The Stowaway Passenger – Part 1(3): A Helpful Sailor

It was only the first day after you left Port Royal, and you had never felt this sick in your life. The smell had much to do with it, closely followed by the torturous heat, the rolling motions of the ship and the pitch darkness in the cargo hold. Had you known the stout freight ship you had chosen for your escape would carry salted fish, you may have thought twice about boarding it, but there was no going back now.

If you survived this, you would be free at last; that was worth any discomfort. And at least you had not thrown up – yet.

You heard a squeaking sound and the hatch opened above you. Cowering behind a crate, you tried to make yourself as tiny as possible, holding your breath.

A tendril of light illuminated your surroundings slightly, and you heard steps on the ladder. A loud, rough voice called down: "Move all the crates from that side to the other. And get on with it, or I'll make the boatswain whip yer. Lazy bilgerat!"

The hatch shut with a loud wham, and darkness returned. No, not quite. Whomever had been sent down the ladder carried a lantern. You could hear them swear under their breath, obviously annoyed at getting such a meaningless task.

Then it struck you that their task would put you in danger of discovery, and with a pounding heart you hoped they would refuse doing it.

Sadly, you had no such luck. Within moments, you heard grunts and ragged panting as the unlucky sailor began to push the boxes over the wooden deck.

If only you could fit inside one of the crates! But they were nailed firmly shut.

The sounds grew closer as the sailor worked their way towards you, and the light brighter. A whiff of musk hit your nose. To your surprise, it smelled pleasant. Being brought up in a fine home, you had never been this close to a working man, and in other circumstances it might have made you curious.

Not now, however. You were too afraid. Any moment now they would find you, and drag you up to the captain, and what would he do then? Beat you? Keelhaul you? Or... maybe he would force you to walk the plank – pushing you off the ship, bound hands and feet.

Probably not the latter, you thought. You were too easily recognizable as a rich person in your fine clothes, and the captain would realize your family might pay him to get you back in one piece.

Your father would pay, you knew that. If it became known what you had done, it would ruin your family's status in society forever. Especially considering how long and hard he had worked to procure your marriage.

That marriage... Just the thought of your intended made bile rise in your throat. Going back was not an option. If you were discovered, you must make sure this sailor helped you remain hidden at any cost!

The crate you were hiding behind moved, and you heard a breathless voice: "What the heck?"

His lantern blinded you, so you could not see what he looked like, but you prayed inwardly he was a kind man.

"Shh," you whispered, a finger against your lips. "Please..."

He moved the lantern closer, moving it up and down as he regarded you. "Who are you?" he murmured after what felt like an eternity, and thank goodness, he kept his voice down!

"I'm someone who needs to escape," you pleaded. "Can you pretend you never saw me?"

"What's the point? We'll make land soon, picking up more cargo. You'll be found then, if not sooner."

Darn. Darn darn darn!

"I thought this ship was heading for Europe!" you hissed, despair filling you.

"It is, eventually. But not until the hold's full." The sailor placed the lantern on a crate, and for the first time you could see his face. He was a handsome, youngish looking man, a little over twenty-five perhaps. But what caught you off guard was the fact that he only wore a pair of short, cotton breeches.

You tried hard not to stare at his exposed chest, but could not avoid noticing how muscular he was, and how the moisture from his previous exertion made his tanned skin almost glow in the lamplight.

"I'm screwed," you muttered.

"What are you running from?" he asked curiously.

"Marriage," you admitted. "My father found a spouse for me. Rich and important. But I just..." You sighed. "I just couldn't. Not without love."

"I understand."

"You do?"

He nodded. "I'm kind of running away too... I was engaged to the woman I had pined after since childhood, but once it was settled, I realized I'd grown out of love. Somehow, by all the hardship we endured to get each other, we had changed." His dark eyes filled with sadness. Then he straightened up. "I must continue working, or the captain will have my hide."

"Need help?" you heard yourself offer, though you had not done an honest day's work in your life before.

The sailor looked at your clean, smooth hands and embroidered clothes, and his lips twitched. "Sure." He held out a dirty fist to you. "I'm Will, by the way. Will Turner."

His hand was warm and felt strong when you shook it and told him your name.

Hearing your surname, Will whistled silently. "Good Lord. I imagine there's quite a bounty to be had, if the captain brings you back to Port Royal."

You stared at him, bitterly regretting exposing yourself. "Please..." you whispered, earnestly shaking your head.

"No worries." His grip on your hand hardened. "Even if I were that cruel, I'd not give the captain the satisfaction. He's probably the worst captain I've known. I hate his guts, but sadly this was the only ship hiring, and I just had to get out of there."

Breathing out in relief, you pressed his hand in return. "Thank you. I mean it."

Your eyes met, and suddenly the air felt even hotter than before. You found it hard to breathe and quickly dropped your gaze. "Let's work then," you said lamely.

The crates were ridiculously heavy, but by the time you had managed to push one to the other side, Will had already moved three of them.

"How can you do it so fast?" you panted, feeling every muscle in your body protest as you began on another crate.

"I used to be a blacksmith." He smirked.

No wonder he was so fit, you thought, appreciatively glancing at his broad shoulders when he had his back turned. You felt a flutter of excitement deep within.

When the work was done, you were exhausted and flopped down on a box with shaking arms and legs.

"Thanks for the assistance," said Will, though he obviously knew you had not done much to ease his task. "I like your spirit. Perhaps I should help you in return."

"Oh, that would be wonderful! But how?"

"I think you could pass as a deckhand, if you borrow some spare clothes from me. The captain is a lazy lout, and can hardly write. He doesn't know the names of half the crew he hired."

"But don't you think my name would give me away? What if he's heard of me before?"

"True. Then let's call you..." He glanced at the crates and grinned. "Casey. Or Carter?"

"Casey Carter sounds good." You grinned back.

You hid behind the crates again while Will climbed back up, promising to return at night with clothes you could borrow. It would be easier for you to sneak out unnoticed in the protection of darkness.

While waiting, you thought about what you were about to do, and slowly the courage left you. You were a rich brat, with a weak body and no experience of hard labor, and suddenly you felt sure the other sailors would see through your cover immediately and call you out. And what about your seasickness? If you threw up in front of a bunch of rowdy seamen you would probably die of shame. And then you would die again when the captain tossed you overboard.

When Will returned after a few hours, you had bit your nails down to the quick and was a nervous wreck.

"I'm not sure I can do this," you whispered shakily.

"No worries. I'll look out for you." He smiled encouragingly. Such an attractive smile he had!

"Why are you so kind to a stranger?" you asked.

"I told you. I like your spirit." He squeezed your shoulder.

The clothes Will had brought were a typical sailor's outfit with breeches, an offwhite shirt and a vest, and a scarf to tie back your hair with. You changed behind the crates, though you told yourself you were being silly, really – your underwear covered almost all of you, and besides, had he not exposed his bare chest to you before? Soon you would share living quarters with the rest of the crew, and you would have to get used to showing a little skin.

The clothes were not too dirty, but not freshly laundered either like you were used to. You did not mind; on the contrary, you liked the exotic, masculine scent impregnated in the garments. You knew Will had worn them.

When you returned to the circle of lamplight, you looked down at yourself critically, thankful the shirt was loose with long sleeves and covered your body effectively. You hoped it was not too obvious you were no real sailor.

There was a glint in Will's eyes as he regarded you. "Looking good."

Before you left the cargo hold, he explained to you the work you would do as a deckhand; mostly cleaning the deck and performing lesser chores, and when the ship reached the next port, help carry goods aboard. Will would make sure you were not assigned complicated tasks such as raising sails or climbing the rigging.

You went up the ladder, Will first and you closely behind. He cautiously peeked out before allowing you up.

"Coast is clear," he whispered, taking your hand to help you.

You drew in a deep breath of the cool night air. How wonderful to be out of that horrible hole!

Will did not release your hand. With you in tow he sneaked over the deserted deck until you came to another hatch, which led to the sleeping quarters. You descended a new ladder, and your stomach sank as you realized the respite from the stuffy, stinking cargo hold had been short lived; here it was almost equally bad, although the stench of salted fish was replaced with that of unwashed humans.

The area was crammed with sleeping people, snoring away in hammocks hanging from the low ceiling. The floor underneath was no less crowded; littered with seaman's chests, bags, used clothes and, in a corner, a stinking bucket which you suspected you as a deckhand would be assigned to empty.

"Where do I sleep?" you breathed in Will's ear.

Instead of replying, he pulled you with him to one side, where two empty hammocks hung very close together. "It will be a bit tight, but there was not much room left." His breath tickled your neck when he whispered.

You nodded, and gratefully accepted his offer to help you get up. He placed his hands on your waist and promptly lifted you onto the swinging bed, as if you weighed hardly anything.

The hammocks were so close you could feel his body heat next to yours when he lay down, but in this strange and frightening situation, that only made you feel safe.

A/N:

This story was written for my Wattpad friend Tess Thranduillion! (But also for myself, lol, I adore Will Turner!)

In the next part you start working as a sailor, but the captain is not very nice...