“Come with us. This man is going to help us!” exclaimed Omibwe in his native tongue. The men in the cell shuffled to their feet with a burst of energy heralded by the prospect of escape. LeMeux separated the cell key from the strap and handed it to Omibwe.
“Open the rest my friend, I will go look for weapons. Hurry, I’ll be back as quick as I can,” said LeMeux. He disappeared up the passageway toward the stairs leading deeper into the hold of the ship. Omibwe handed the key to one of the men from the cell they had just opened and asked him to help with opening the rest. They moved to the next cell and had it open in a moment, Omibwe explained what they needed as the door was opened and man and woman alike came forth from the second cell into the passageway. On the third cell, the man helping Omibwe with the key struggled, the key bound within the lock and he had to wrench on it hard to break it free. Finally, after a few attempts the key turned in the lock and with a click the cell door swung open. Omibwe’s fear was rising, there was fourteen prisoners crowded in the passageway and LeMeux was nowhere to be seen. With the fourth cell opened the number in the passageway grew to nineteen and they moved to the next cell. Omibwe’s heart soared when he saw Anaya’s bright eyes appear inside the cell.
“Anaya! Mother! Father!” Omibwe exclaimed, “We have to hurry, my friend is going to help us, we’re going to escape!”
“What do you mean escape? We are on a ship on the ocean boy!” his father replied, a concerned and doubtful look across his gaunt features.
“We have to fight the crew father, if we can take over this ship, then maybe we can go home.” Omibwe answered his challenge. Together they all crowded into the passageway and moved up to the next cell. “Where is the doctor?” Omibwe muttered as he struggled to make his way farther up the passageway. His arm was already chafed from leaning on the makeshift crutch and his good leg was feeling the strain of exertion from carrying his weight compounded by the constant movement of the deck. In the crowded passageway now had two dozen people, but LeMeux had still not returned. Omibwe started to wonder if he should have unlocked all the doors and then awaited his return, that way if a sailor happened his way into view all would appear normal until the doctor returned with weapons.
Immediately confirming Omibwe’s fear, they heard as the weather hatch was lifted and a flush of seawater spilled down the stairs announcing the entrance of one of the ship’s crew below deck. The sailor came into view starting with his soaking shoes, a flash of lightning danced through the open hatch as he stepped carefully down the stairs into view. Omibwe studied the man’s waistline, he did not appear to have any weapons on him. The sailor stepped onto the bottom two steps of the stair flight, letting the weather hatch slam down above him shutting out the wind and rain. The sailor turned and looked up the passageway, at first not registering what he saw. A desperate look crossed the sailor’s face and he turned to race back up to the main deck. The two nearest the sailor were Omibwe and a woman a few years older than him. Omibwe scrambled to hop toward the fleeing sailor and the woman followed passing him in two swift steps. She grabbed at the sailor’s feet and clung her arms around his legs. The sailor had one hand on the weather hatch and was trying to lift it as the African woman pulled at his legs with everything she had. The weather hatch cracked open only a sliver, spilling some seawater into the hold for a split second. “Help!” the sailor shouted before losing his footing and being drug down to the bottom of the stairs. He landed in a pile on top of the woman who had pulled him. “You damn wench, get your filthy hands off of me!” the sailor spit out in a venomous rage. Omibwe hobbled right next to the two and lifted his makeshift board crutch, slamming it into the sailor’s forehead. The man appeared dazed and a laceration was opened across his forehead, but he reached out toward Omibwe, so the young man struck again, this time with all the strength and weight he could muster behind the blow. The sailor went limp at the impact of the second strike and Omibwe fell over as the ship pitched in a wave.
Dr. LeMeux returned from the hold below, running up the stairwell with a brace of pistols in one arm and three scabbarded swords under the other. He immediately began handing out arms to men and women around him, when he reached the side of the deck where Omibwe was struggling to get back upright, the doctor reached down and assisted the young man. Then he saw the sailor with the gash across his forehead laying on the deck and assisted the young African woman to her feet as well.
“I see you’ve been busy in my absence Omi. I’ve only found a few weapons, these will have to do for now.” LeMeux said.
“What now? What do we do now?” Omibwe asked, fear and panic taking hold in his eyes.
“The Captain is seriously injured, so I think Mr. Sprague has taken command of the ship. If we can get to the cabin in the aft castle, I think we could take Sprague by surprise. But Omi, I think it would be smart to bide our time and wait out this storm. If any of the sailors come down from the deck, we can overpower them here at the stairs. Once the weather calms, it would
