Stowaways

Chapter 1: Freedom is such sweet sorrow.

I looked over the clear, blue water. I breathed a breath of cold, fresh air.

Freedom.

This was it.

Nevermind.

I heard footsteps behind me. I ducked behind one of the many, many stacks of crates that surrounded me. I couldn't be seen by anyone when I was standing up because the stacks of crates were all pretty tall, and I was very short for my age of 15, but better safe than sorry. The footsteps came to a stop right behind the stack that I was behind. Two voices started talking, and I had to listen hard to hear the words.

"I'm sure that you will find your voyage satisfactory, sir." One said in a standard English accent.

"Ja, Ja. Just let me see my prize." The other replied in a thick German accent. I heard a knife unsheath. A sharp crack came from the crate on the top of the pile. Then another. The person opening the crate must have been tall because the stack of crates was at least six feet tall. The lid slid off of the top of the crate - right over my head. It was sitting on the edge of the crate. I was praying that it didn't fall on my head. I tried to focus on not breathing too loudly. I brushed some fallen hay from my hair.

"WHERE IS IT?" The German man yelled. It was so loud it could have shaken the ship. Then, I felt something terrible. Something absolutely horrific. Something that would give my position away to the men.

A sneeze.

I tried to hold it back or stop it, but it came. It was muffled, but it still came and served its purpose: to give me away to the men. The whole world seemed to go quiet. The German man stopped yelling. The Englishman stopped whimpering. I stopped breathing. The wind stopped whistling. It was so quiet I could hear the faint ringing that you could only hear in your ear if you were very, very, very quiet.

"Who sneezed?" The Englishman asked.

"Stille!" Was the German reply. 'Stille' is a German word meaning 'Silence.' Though It's spelled a lot like 'still', it is pronounced 'Schtill.'

I heard long, deliberate footsteps coming around the stack. I quickly moved to the other side of the stack. I tried to do it quietly. The men seemed to quickly round the corner on the side I was just on, seeming to hope to surprise me with being found. The German man groaned. The Englishman sighed.

"Lost cause," He said, "Maybe it was the wind."

"That sneezed?" The German man asked. I took the opportunity of them talking and searching around the area to get away from that spot. There were continuous rows and rows of crates all over the top deck. This was a cargo ship, after all. I weaved in and out of the stacks, checking behind me every few seconds to make sure nobody was following me. I turned a corner and slammed into somebody. They grabbed my wrist. I looked up at them. It was a boy about my age. He was holding my wrist in his one hand and what looked like a gold coin in the other. Our eyes locked. His eyes were a dark color, covered by thin wisps of messy brown hair over his eyes. It took me a few seconds to tear my eyes away from his. I tugged at my wrist.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same questions." I replied. I heard footsteps running in our direction. I guess he heard them too because he ran in the opposite direction, taking me with him. We came to a clearing in the stacks. He let go of my wrist.

"Sibi quisque." He said. Then, he ran off in a different direction. Sibi quisque is a Latin term meaning 'Every man for himself.' I heard footsteps coming from all directions.

"Great..." I thought to myself.

I looked down, hoping to see a trap door or something that could help me escape there. There was nothing there except a shining circle on the deck.

It was the coin that the boy had been holding. I knelt down to pick it up. My fingers touched it, and a boot came down hard on my hand. My breath caught in my throat.

"Hello," said a voice. I looked up to see a crewmate standing over me. He removed his foot from my hand. I got up, and another cremate came from behind, grabbing my wrists and forcing them behind my back. Number one picked up the coin and examined it. He moved his head sharply in a direction. Number two pushed me that way. Soon enough, we came to the stairs leading down. Number two led me down the stairs to the lower level of the ship. There, the German man was screaming at another crewmate, mostly in English but some in German.

"You Idiot! You let ihm get away?"

"I-I tried sir," the crewmate cowarded, "But I couldn't catch him. He was really fast."

"You -" He stopped as Number one coughed. The German man straightened his back and strode over to him. Number one handed him the coin.

"She was found with this." Number one said. The German man flipped the coin in his hand a couple of times. He turned to me. He held the coin up between two fingers and smiled a fake smile. I could tell he wanted to strangle me.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked calmly.

"I - Well," I stammered.

"Do you know what this is?" He yelled, stepping forward and dropping the smile.

"No." I said, a little quieter than I would have liked.

"Then why did you steal it?" He asked slowly, obviously trying to regain his composure. He slipped the coin into his pocket.

"I didn't." I responded, more confident but still quiet. He chuckled and stepped back a bit. He reached out and touched my hair. I flinched a little. He retrieved his hand with a piece of hay, an obvious sign that I had been behind the crate when he had opened it.

"We have a liar among us." He said, swirling the hay between two of his fingers. He dropped it and stepped forward again, bending down to my level and looking me straight in the eyes. He had piercing green eyes. I could see a special kind of evil in them.

"You know, you have nothing to hide. You were found with the coin, and you have no proof you didn't steal it. Confess."

He stepped back and said something in German to Number One. I felt Number Two crushing my wrists. I bowed my head, knowing that what I was about to do would get me killed. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.

I opened my eyes and raised my head ever so slightly and growled, "Never."

The German man frowned and stepped back to me.

"Fine. You don't want to confess? you don't have to. You are a stowaway and a thief. We will treat you as such."

He turned to Number One.

"Take her to the brig."

Number One nodded and seemed to bow to the German man.