Ballast watched the beautiful young woman pace back and forth behind iron bars in the cargo hold of the Hare’s Breath, a scowl on her face. She had been given a blanket to warm her, which she now wore like a cloak over a tan tunic. Her long black hair was still damp.

“This treatment is uncalled for. I fled to you!” she said, her green eyes pleading.

She spoke the truth. Ballast himself had watched through a spyglass as the woman rowed her way to the ship. Once on board, she had been cast into the brig until the captain had a chance to speak with her and a decision could be made about what to do.

“Is this how you treat someone in need of help? You lot are from Tellapor, aren’t you? I’ve heard stories about how famously kind and generous you Tellaporish are. I guess those were just stories.”

Ballast sighed. “Kindness is not the same as stupidity. Our ship was attacked, and immediately after our attackers retreated, you appear. What would you have us do? Put you at the helm of the ship?”

“I already told you! In the confusion of the battle, I escaped by jumping overboard. I began swimming to shore before seeing the rowboat I came in on.”

“And what were you doing on that vessel in the first place? You said you were a prisoner, but then how did you escape?”

The woman’s eyes widened in anger, but she offered no response aside from a “Hmph!” She continued to pace.

Crates were stacked in one corner of the cage. The brig doubled as a locked hold for their more desirable or valued cargo. The woman was currently imprisoned with the ship’s entire stock of rum and whiskey, unknowingly making her the envy of the rest of the crew, who were currently hard at work performing repairs and other duties.

Ballast should assign someone else to guard the woman so he could direct the crew on deck but couldn’t will himself to leave. He watched as she paced. “Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable?” he found himself asking.

“Keys. To this cage. And a way home.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of something to eat and drink.”

The woman hesitated.

“Our cook is better than most,” Ballast prodded. “Assuming you don’t mind spicy foods.”

“Some of us like to taste our food."

“So you would like something to eat?”

“I—” the woman stopped a moment. “Well, it is the least you can do to provide me with some rations if you insist on locking me up like some criminal.”

“I’ll see what the cook has prepared.” Ballast started climbing the steps to leave. “Don’t go anywhere.” He didn’t see the face she most certainly made in response to that last comment.

Ballast popped his head into the kitchen to find the cook bent over its stone hearth tasting something out of a large pot. A small mound of lit charcoal burned underneath a grate, on top of which rested the pot.

“Hold your horses, it’s nearly ready,” the cook said.

His given name was Charles, but everyone called him Chili. He was a large man, second tallest on the crew after the captain, and nearly as wide as he was tall, with a dark complexion and friendly disposition. It was amusing to see a man of his size crammed into the small galley kitchen. He filled it. And yet Ballast hand never once seen him break something or knock something over while cooking. He was a fine cook, better than most sailing vessels could boast.

Chili looked over and seemed surprised. “Oh, Ballast, I’m used to some of the other crew coming down to ask about meals but not you.”

Ballast smiled. “It’s not for me. We have a…visitor on board. I was hoping to bring her something to eat.”

Chili raised an eyebrow at that. “A visitor, huh? We don’t get many of those on the ship.”

“Right, I’m not sure how long she’ll be here.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I have this fish stew just about ready. A few of the deckhands caught the fish earlier today while you lot were on the island.”

“How hot is it?”

“Oh, not that hot.” Chili laughed. That’s what he always said to that question.

“Maybe just a small bowl of the stew with some bread. You didn’t make the bread spicy, did you?

“No, not this time.” Chili laughed again, no doubt remembering the time he baked some bread with a diced up pepper he had come across on an island far south of here. It was so spicy that many of the crew washed their mouths out with seawater after a single bite. “I like my food to have flavor, but I also like for it to be eaten.”

Chili grabbed a bowl to his left, ladled in some of stew into it, and reached behind for a piece of bread he must have already have cut up. “Here you go. Hope our visitor likes it.” He winked.

“Thanks.” Ballast left the kitchen, moving back the way he had come. He heard Chili begin to whistle a tune to himself before getting out of earshot.

When Ballast returned to the cargo hold, he nearly dropped the bowl in shock—the woman was gone from the cage!

“I shouldn’t have left her!” he said to himself, setting down the meal on a nearby crate. How did she get out?

Ballast inspected the lock, suspecting that she may have picked it. Not being a locksmith, he wasn’t sure what to look for. But he didn’t see any signs of tampering; in fact, the lock was still closed. He shook the door to the cage just to make sure. It was locked all right.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. Ballast spun around to find Captain Springer walking down the stairs.

“I hear we have another surprise,” the captain said.

Ballast froze, not sure what to say.

Captain Springer frowned and looked past him. “What happened?”

“I-I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I left for a few minutes. To fetch some food. I only now returned to find the cage empty.

Springer’s frown morphed into a smile. “You are going to feel foolish.”

“I already do, captain. I should not have let her out of my sight.”

“Not for that.”

Captain Springer walked over to a small table near the steps where a crowbar, hammer, and some nails laid. She picked up the hammer and nails and walked back to the cage. She reached her arms through the bars where the crates of liquor were and began hammering a nail into the lid of the top one. She hammered one corner shut, then moved on to the next one. After her first hammer strike on that second nail, the lid shifted upward.

“Fine, I’ll come out,” the green-eyed woman said, standing up from inside the crate before climbing out. She looked annoyed and a little embarrassed.

“For this,” Captain Springer said, looking at Ballast and chuckling.

Ballast’s shoulders slumped. He matched the woman’s embarrassment but was also relieved that she was still here.

“Can you blame me for hiding?” the woman asked, arms crossed over her chest. “I came here looking for freedom and found prison bars instead.”

“The cage is just a precaution,” Captain Springer said. “One Ballast was right to take.” The captain patted him on the shoulder for a moment, smiling. “We just need to understand who you are.”

The woman said nothing.

“You can understand our reservations if you can’t even answer that simple question.”

“I have reason to be tight-lipped.” The woman sighed. “I was that ship’s mapper. My name is Millicent. Millicent Faraday.” The woman looked pained to divulge even that simple information.

“And you fled the ship because you feared we would sink it?”

“No. I fled because I disagreed with the crew’s mission. And their attacking you. Please don’t ask me more. The more I tell you, the more endangered we all are.”

“And who poses such a threat to us? That ship’s captain and crew?”

Millicent looked down at the ground and did not answer. For the first time since Ballast pulled her off the rowboat, she looked worried.

“It would help if we understood the situation we found ourselves in,” the captain continued. “As a mapper yourself, you should sympathize. We were in the middle of trying to warn the citizens of Curvata Appa about an incoming collision with this island.” She gestured over her shoulder in the direction of the small island.

Millicent nodded. “I know…”

“And do you know what happened to the Bull’s Horn, the survey vessel assigned to his area before us?”

Millicent looked down again. Mournful. “The...same thing that happened to you. But worse.”

“So, that dark ship is trying to cripple Curvata Appa!” Ballast interrupted, the thought suddenly dawning on him.

Captain Springer nodded in agreement. “That’s what I suspect as well. But why?” she asked, back toward Millicent, who bristled at that question.

“Do you know the reason for every order you receive?” she spat back before immediately looking regretful.

The captain did not respond, and all three fell silent, contemplating what might come next.