Across Dark Seas by Clare Sager

Author:Clare Sager [Sager, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub

The Climb

Heart pounding, Avice slipped off her shoes and tucked her skirts up so they wouldn’t sweep around her legs like they had when she’d climbed from her bedroom window.

The three steps to the rigging felt just as long as the market lane in Weymouth had. The vertical ropes were taut, so they didn’t move, but the thinner lines running between them gusted with the breeze coming from the great open ocean to the west.

She just had to begin. And then keep going. That was all. This was just another climb. She could pretend Knighton Villiers was waiting at the bottom and she was climbing to escape him.

Well, in a way, she was.

Drawing a deep breath, she took one of those thinner lines. It was rough under her hands but no worse than oak bark – softer, in fact.

With her first step, the ropes swung and the rigging creaked. The ship’s sway was just noticeable. She clung on, getting used to the movement. It wasn’t so different from tree branches giving under her weight. She nodded to herself and reached up for the next hold.

Hand over hand, she ascended ten feet. This wasn’t so bad.

At twenty feet, the ship’s sway was more noticeable – the world below pitched side to side, making her stomach roil. But she was over halfway to the first platform. The main topsail was still far beyond that, but she’d deal with that once she had a chance to sit on the platform and pause.

The faces on deck became smaller and smaller as she climbed. The pitching grew stronger, sending her almost out over the glittering sea. The wind picked up, too, chilling her hands and making them stiff.

Wincing, she pushed on, clinging to the ropes even as they chafed her tender skin.

She had to do this. Giving in was not an option. Turning back was not an option. They’d run out of bloody options.

Really, it wasn’t so bad, just cold, especially with her legs and forearms bare.

Hand over hand. That was all she needed to do. Eventually, she’d reach the top.

Except, around 30 feet, she came to a hopeless crisscrossing of ropes. The rigging she was on continued, but from it sprung another set of lines. This second set bent back to join the platform’s edge, forming an incline.

The rigging she’d climbed so far tilted forwards, so there was always rope beneath her – if she lost grip, she’d be able to grab another line.

On this new set of rigging, there’d be nothing beneath her but fresh air and, eventually, the deck. Her stomach turned, rougher than the sea below.

Below, everyone was silent. They had to know why she’d paused, and now they stared, wondering if she’d give up.

She eyed the ropes ahead, mouth dry.

“Hand over hand,” she whispered and took the next line and the next, angling further and further back.

No part of climbing a tree was anything like this and, gods, her muscles knew it. Her arms shook, and her fingers ached with white-knuckled grips.

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