Around twenty-five miles to the west, on the roiling ocean, a ship was having navigation problems. Most of them stemmed from the fact that the passengers were trying to kill the crew.

"Who the hell let those slaves out of their cages? Knock 'em out before—aagh!"

A plank slammed into the fat man's face, throwing him back against the wall and knocking him clean out. The young black man wielding it, who, judging by the way his ribs protruded, had to have gone through the world's most gruesome diet, seemed to consider another hit to the man's bollocks, then decided to conserve his energy and just bent down, pulling the keys of the unconscious slaver's belt. Rushing over to a nearby door, he pulled back the latch and threw it open, whereupon dozens of equally miserable dark-skinned figures in rags looked up at him, stunned.

"What are you waiting for?" the young man hollered. "Out! Move!"

A moment passed in silence—then the people sprang to their feet, only to be dragged down immediately by the chains wrapped around their ankles. Rushing forward, the young man jammed a key into the corresponding lock, setting the first man free. Then the second. Then the third. Slowly, disbelievingly rising to their feet, they stumbled out into the corridor.

Moments later, a door above banged, and footsteps thundered down a narrow set of wooden stairs. A gaggle of men burst into the corridor, looking even more ragged and miserable than the others, with wounds scattered all over their bodies, and sweat drenching the rags they wore for clothes. There were two crucial differences, however. Number one, the weapons in their hands. Number two, the look in their eyes, which were burning with fierce fire.

"We've done it!" a huge man at the front roared, swinging a massive cudgel in the air that looked suspiciously like a broken-off bedpost. "We've beaten those Spanish bastards! Did you hear that, Itoro, you little weasel?"

"Great, Kojo!" Beaming from one ear to another, the young man strode forward. "Everyone, it's all right! It's just Kojo! Everything is fine!"

The recently-released slaves, who had stiffened with apprehension, sagged in relief against the wall.

"Let's go up on the deck, everyone!" Kojo shouted. "We've been cooped up in this hellhole long enough. I wanna breathe some fresh sea air!"

He stormed towards the stairs, and, after a moment or two, the crowd began to follow. An eerie silence hung over everyone, as if none dared to speak for fear they would wake up from this dream. Only when they stepped onto the deck did a whisper spread among the men and women.

"Did...did that really happen?"

"Did we really do it?"

"We...we're free?"

"We're free!"

"Free! Hahahaha, we're free! Free!"

Cheers rose above the crowd, and chains and shackles flew into the air, sailing over the railing and vanishing into the ocean. It took quite a while for everyone to calm down enough for Itoro to make himself heard.

"Hey, Kojo! Kojo, come over here!"

Everyone quieted down, watching the two heroes who had led them to freedom.

"What did you do with the whites?" Itoro asked. "Specifically the sailors. Did you lock them away, like I asked you to?"

Kojo snorted "Better! I tried to play nice for your sake, you damn pacifist, but..." Grinning, the mountain of onyx muscle patted his cudgel. "Those bastards were being stubborn, so I smashed their heads in!"

Itoro blinked.

"And the first mate?"

"He was being stubborn, too."

"So..."

"I smashed his head in."

"And the commander?"

"Wham! Smashed his head in."

"And the captain?" Itoro's eyelid twitched. "Did you smash his head in, too?"

"Nah."

"Thank God!"

"I threw him overboard," Kojo proclaimed, proudly pounding his barrel chest. Around him, people cheered.

Itoro covered his face with his hand. "Great. Just great. I only have one question for you, Kojo, my friend..."

"Yes?"

"Do any of us here know how to steer this ship?"

What followed was a long, long moment of silence.

"Oh crap."

***

Standing at the prow of the ship, I peered through the telescope in my hand, inspecting the column of smoke rising in the distance.

"I vote we go and investigate," I said.

"Indeed?" Stepping up beside me, Mr Ambrose raised an eyebrow about half a millimetre. "How fortunate that women still do not have the right to vote, then."

I was very tempted to tell him all about the upcoming announcement revealing the imminent establishment of the Rikkard Ambrose Foundation for the Support of the Women's Vote, but in the end, decided against it. After all, I still need something with which to surprise him on his birthday.

"But something interesting might be happening over there!" I protested.

"Shouts and screams echoing over the water? Gunpowder smoke rising in the air? Oh yes, very interesting, I'm sure."

"See?" Beaming, I reached out and patted his cheeks. "You agree with me, Dicky Darling."

"Mr Linton?"

"Yes?"

"If you call me that again, you may wake up one day to find all your male clothes replaced with nun habits."

I shuddered. I had to admit, he was good.

"But we have to go over!"

"Why?"

Why? Why?

I wanted to grab him by the neck and shake him. What sort of person, when seeing a ship in distress at sea, asked why they should help?

"On the one hand, is there any profit from going?" he briefly and ruthlessly summarized. "On the other hand, there is a certainty of unknown danger, with combat still ongoing. Risks include damage to the ship and cargo, loss of life to the crew that by the way, unlike the cargo, is not insured, diplomatic conflict with unknown foreign parties, delays in cargo delivery, et cetera, et cetera."

The person I'd married, apparently.

"And lastly," he added, bending down towards me and caressing my cheek with a move too swift for anyone to see, "going there would put you in danger."

Oh.

My heart made a leap as he pulled me behind the nearest mast and, out of sight of everyone, put a kiss on me that made my knees buckle. Heat surged up inside me, and I clutched him tightly.

"Now...do you still have any objections to my smart and logical decision to ignore this mess?"

"Wrgsfgl."

"Adequate." Immediately letting go, he stepped out from behind the mast and gestured to the first mate. "Make all sail!"

***

"Blockhead! I'm going to kill you!"

"Now, now, don't do anything rash." Kojo raised two shovel-sized hands.

"Rash? Rash? We're on a bloody sailing boat, and you got the bright idea to kill off every single person on this miserable wreck that happens to be able to sail? Why, Kojo? Why?"

"Well..." The big man cocked his head. "'cause they deserved it?"

Itoro's hands flexed. Judging by the murderous gaze he sent towards Kojo, he did not agree with this argument.

The big man seemed to have noticed. "Now, don't do anything hasty, Itoro. After all, we are brothers in arms, fighting for freedom! There never should be any quarrel between brothers! Besides..." Smiling a broad smile, he struck a pose, flexing his biceps. "I'd squash you to a pulp anyway."

"Someone! Get me some chains to strangle this idiot with!"

"Err..." One of the other men scratched his head. ""We threw all the chains overboard, Itoro."

"Then rope!"

"Um...all the ropes, too. Except for the ones holding the sails. Would you like me to send up some fellows with knives and—"

"No!"

Tensions ran high on the ship. Nobody knew what to do. Nobody knew what might have happened, had not, in that very moment, a shout rung out across the boat.

"A ship! There's a ship over there!"

Instantly, silence spread across the deck. Silence with a hint of dread hidden beneath. His face grim, Itoro made his way to where the man who had shouted was standing at the railing, staring off into the distance.

"Where?"

"There! Over there!"

"Fetch me a telescope!" Itoro roared, then turned back to the other man. "You're the one with the best eyes. Can you see the flag? Is it pirates?"

"It...no! No, it's a national flag! Definitely!"

Instead of relaxing, everybody tensed. There was one thing they feared to encounter even more than pirates. Encountering members of one particular nation. One particular empire.

"Is it...them?" Kojo growled, stepping up beside Itoro.

"Let me see...they...they...no! They're flying a blue flag, with a red and white cross!"

"Britons!" Hope spread over Itoro's face.

"Yes! Britons!" Kojo raised his fist into the air—then slowly lowered it again. "So...is that good?"

"Knucklehead! Don't you know the Britons abolished the slave trade ages ago? Some of them even go so far as to enforce this upon others!"

"Should we hail them?"

"Definitely!" Hope shone in the young man's eyes. "Ask around if there are one or two fishers among the other freed slaves, who might know how to steer this thing we're on. We must get our ship as close to that vessel as possible! If we're lucky, we'll encounter an honourable and charitable gentleman, who will help us out of the goodness of his heart."

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Sorry for the short chapter, but I simply couldn't resist leaving a cliffhanger there. Those poor escapees don't know what's awaiting them... ;)

How do you like my 2 new characters?

Yours Truly

Sir Rob

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GLOSSARY:

"Make all sail"—this, in the age of sailing ships, was the equivalent to "full steam ahead", the command for a steam boat to move at its highest possible speed.