The Stowaway

VII

"All great adventures have moments that are really crap." Ellen Potter, The Kneebone Boy 

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VII.

Not even the clothespin that was pinching her nostrils shut was enough to block out the stench of the ship's head. Eliza gagged as she used the timber scrubbing brush around the outside of the wooden boxes that the sailor's used to relieve themselves.

Her mind was brought back several years to the week that she was required to look after the pig when her sister had injured her leg. Her respect for Katy had grown exponentially once she had needed to tend to the pig sty.

But this was something much more foul.

Eliza was quite certain that she would never be able to eat again. She would never again have an appetite. Food was a treat of the past.

Her first impression of the captain had been exactly right. He knew just how disgusting this was. He was probably laughing at her, the cruel man! And she had thanked him for this work!

There were two of these excrement boxes on the ship, and two sailors, Jonesy and Echo, were cleaning the other one together. They both were refusing to talk to her, but she recognised them from the day before. They were the sailors who had carried her aboard the ship.

This work was their punishment, and it was her fault.

"I am sorry, Mr Jonesy, Mr Echo!" she appealed to them. Oh! Big mistake to open her mouth. If there was anything left in her stomach, she would have thrown it back up. Eliza clamped her mouth shut and scrubbed as hard as she could. This would be the cleanest this blasted box had ever been. That captain would not be able to say a thing about it.

If her dress had been dirty before, it was positively filthy now. Lord only knew what each of the stains were, and Eliza was desperate to throw the garment overboard. There would be no rescuing it, and she would not want to ever wear it again knowing where it had been.

But she did feel immensely bad for Jonesy and Echo. It had been her deception which had gotten them into trouble with their horrid captain and she did want to make it right, no matter how her nose, lungs, mouth, and every other part of her was protesting.

Once her box was clean, she took herself over to the opposite one, where Jonesy and Echo were cleaning.

"Please, let me," she insisted. "It is my fault."

Both Jonesy and Echo were burly, older sailors, whose years were only exaggerated by their sun damaged skin. But Jonesy's blue eyes were kind, and they looked upon her softly, and the lines around Echo's mouth betrayed years of smiling.

"We didn't check the cargo, Miss," Jonesy told her calmly.

"Our own fault, it is. Our own fault," added Echo, nodding.

Nevertheless, the three worked together to complete the job, and to escape the smell of the head as quickly as they could. Once they were safely away, the three of them were able to remove the clothespins from their noses, and breathe in clean air.

"What on earth is a girl like you doing stowing away on a ship, Miss?" asked Jonesy.

"Eliza," she introduced herself. "And adventure."

Jonesy and Echo exchanged an amused look and burst out laughing. "Well, that's something to write home about, now, isn't it?" he chided. "Cleaning up the shite of two dozen sailors." He stopped himself. "Pardon my language, Miss."

Echo sniggered. "You're in the presence of a lady now, Jonesy. Best behaviour, best behaviour."

"No, please!" insisted Eliza. "You need not mind me."