Sarah is always the sensible one, and usually you admire her for this, but at this moment, you want to shake her.
I promised Amal and Betty that I’d be there, you think. Now what will I do?
If you try to break out and reach Amal and Betty, go to scene 19.
If you remain where you are, locked below deck, go to scene 20.
Initially it’s a relief to decide that you’ll break out and go to Betty and Amal’s aid, but you soon realise you’re going to have a huge challenge just getting to the hatch exit on the other side of the room in this storm.
Your mind is made up, though. Soon you’re on your hands and knees on the hard wooden floor, wrist-deep in churning black water, which soaks your stockings and dress. The ship lurches and you are thrown sideways into a bunk. Your head slams against the wood, and its occupant shouts in fright. With the ship’s next lurch, you are thrown forward, tumbling across to the other side of the hull, landing with a thump at the base of the ladder leading to the hatch.
You grab the ladder before you can tumble away from it again, and begin to climb. The ladder tips back and forth as if it’s trying to throw you off. When you reach the top, you hang on like grim death, your breath coming in noisy gasps. You can’t really spare a hand to let go and even try to get the trapdoor open. Its timber is thick as a man’s arm, and its hinges are iron.
The woman who sleeps on the top bunk nearest the hatch reaches out and taps your arm. In the darkness, you feel her press a metal teaspoon into your hand. You don’t know where she would have found such a thing.
‘Break us all out of here, love,’ she moans. ‘I want to breathe fresh air before I die in this storm.’
You get to work with the handle of the spoon, hacking away at the timber close to the hinges, which seems a little splintered and damp. If you can break the hinge, despite the outer padlock being locked fast on the other side, perhaps you can open the trapdoor from its hinged side instead. Trying to concentrate on this job in the rolling storm is making you feel giddy.
Thump! You brace yourself against the ladder and try to slam the trapdoor upwards with your shoulder. Thump! It seems to be giving way a little around the hinges where you have loosened it with your spoon. Your shoulder is throbbing. Every now and again, you catch the sound of Betty’s neighs, which spurs you on. The other convicts have taken interest and are either cheering you on or telling you to stop being a damned fool and get back to your bunk. With all their yelling and your thumping of the trapdoor, it’s become very loud in here.
Suddenly you hear footsteps coming towards the trapdoor and a key turning in its padlock. The door opens and an officer’s face peers in at you.
‘What on earth is the meaning of—’ he begins.
A convict screams: ‘Go for your life, girl!’ and you see your chance. You heave your way onto the deck and scramble past the officer.
Salt water slaps you in the face.
‘Hey!’ he shouts.
You stagger in the direction of the hold at the front of the ship. You can hear panicked neighing.
‘I’m coming, Betty!’ you shout, but the wind snatches away your words.
The boat reaches the peak of a wave. You feel a moment of weightlessness, then the deck plunges below your feet. The officer snatches at your arm but misses. You hit the deck and a crescendo of foam crashes over it, sweeping you uncontrollably towards its tilting edge, your arms flailing around for a rope or anything to grab hold of. You smack into the railings at the edge of the deck, and then cold, black water rises up and sweeps you under the railing and down into the depths.
It is strangely quiet underwater. You are dragged down, deeper and deeper. You kick for all you’re worth, but it makes no difference. The hull of the ship, way above you, is drifting out of sight. The water is pressing in on your eardrums, tighter and tighter. You feel you are going to pop with the effort of holding air in your lungs. Your chest is burning.
Helplessly, you let go. The air bubbles out of you, and water rushes into your lungs. You watch your breath float away from you. Your body will never be found.
To return to your last choice and try again, go to scene 18.
‘Of course, you’re right. What would I do without you to calm me down, Sarah?’ you sigh, letting your head fall back against your bunk. Your bed lurches under you; you have to grip the sides to stop from falling out.
‘Get yourself killed in some harebrained mission, no doubt,’ she says warmly. ‘I’m sure it’d give all these convict ladies a laugh to see you try to break out of here in the middle of a storm, but I’d rather have you alive, thanks.’
You love Sarah so. She reminds you of your older sister, Erin, who was also reassuring and level-headed. Thinking now of her terrible death by childbirth gives you the shivers. You wonder if Betty is as scared and helpless as Erin was.
Aloud, you say, ‘Hurry up, Amal. I’m ready.’
Your bunk is the other end of the room from the hatch, and you are clinging to it so tightly that you don’t notice it open, until a woman from the other end of the room shouts your name.
‘God himself knows why,’
