Erath’s curiosity was aroused. “What about?” he said, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice.
“Whether you can escape or not,” came the reply.
His heart skipped a beat. “Off the Freedom?”
“Aye, that’s the idea.”
“What’s the price?”
Ratline scooted closer to his mate. He tilted his head to the side to talk with Erath instead of looking at him straight in the eye. “Life and money.”
Erath forced himself to be still and not jerk. “How do you mean?” he asked guardedly.
“I mean that if you win and get away, you have your life – freedom. If you get caught, you give me all the money we make from the Navy for two seasons.”
Stroking the stubby whiskers on his chin, Erath thought over it. The stakes seemed fair enough. He knew well that if he were caught, he would not only lose his pay for half a year, but he would probably lose his life as well. Deserters were usually hanged soon after being brought back. It took only a moment for Erath to think of all this before he gave his answer.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ll do it.” He extended his hand to meet Ratline’s and they shook on it.
Later that night, while they were on their watch, Ratline told Erath the plan he had formulated. They were to land in Tróss within a fortnight. While it was dark, and while he was on his watch, Erath would sneak off the ship; Ratline would make sure he was missed for at least a few hours.
It seemed Ratline was trying to help Erath get away instead of looking for a way to get money. Erath was not sure whether to be glad of the extra help, or more wary of it. With Ratline, no one could be sure. But he was aching to be rid of the Freedom. He longed to travel the streets again and not be constantly yelled at. To make and carry out his own orders. What he really wanted was true freedom, and it was not to be found on this ship.
Erath was at the crow’s nest – where he usually was on the long watch. All he could see was blackness and a faint line indicating where the rope ladder was. The mast swayed with the ship, but Erath kept perfect balance. A person who was new to a ship would have been terrified with such movement, but Erath had quickly adjusted.
He leaned his elbows on the rail, looking out into blackness, his mind far away. The wind tossed his long hair about him, but he didn’t notice. What will I do when I am away from here? he thought. The possibilities opened up before him. He could become a tradesman and work his way up to positions of power. Erath quickly rejected that idea. He was selfish, and did not want the responsibility of taking care of other people and their petty matters. What he wanted was to do anything that he enjoyed.
At last, the night came when Erath was to escape. There was a full moon, which unhappily for Erath, provided much illumination. His chest fluttered with excitement at the thought, he would soon be rid of the Freedom forever.
Ratline came up to him, his sauntering gait an instant annoyance. “You ready?” he whispered. Erath leaned over the edge of the railing, peering out over the streets that lay not more than a bow shot away. They were docked at a harbor, and were able to bring the Freedom up to the very piers for unloading. And yet he was nervous.
It was so simple, he told himself. All he had to do was climb out the port side, land softly, and get away down the pier and through the city. He did not answer Ratline at once.
“Come now, lad,” Ratline taunted, “yur’ not turnin’ coward on me, are ya’?”
Erath’s gaze snapped to meet Ratline’s, eyes flaming. “No,” he said fiercely. “I’m not the sort ‘a’ person to turn yeller’.” This was not to reassure only Ratline, but also himself.
“You got a quarter hour, then yur’ on yur’ own.” He extended his lean, calloused hand. “See ya’ in a few hours, boy.”
The young sailor straightened and turned to face him. “Goodbye,” he said, taking the hand and shaking it. “I will get away though.”
Ratline made no response. He lifted his eyebrows in doubt and ambled away.
Erath turned his gaze back to the city. He had no idea where he would go when he left it; all he knew was that it was his one opportunity to have his liberty back. Looking up, he saw a man in the crow’s nest. There was really no need for him to be up there; they were at land, but Erath saw instantly the danger it would cause him to be seen by that man in the full moonlight.
After taking a quick glance at the sky, he decided to wait until the cloud would pass over the moon. Then – and only then – would he make his attempt at freedom.
Erath casually walked to midship and took a good look at where the dock was. It could not have been more than six feet away. He was so close; it would be disastrous to fail in even one point of his plan. He had to make sure where he was going to land after it got darker.
Too soon did the cloud cover the moon. Erath’s spirits rose with the beating of his heart. This was it. He had to get off now. With one final deep breath, he launched himself over the side and landed on the dock. Immediately, he flattened himself to make sure no one had noticed. It did not appear so. Slowly, very slowly, Erath raised himself, and stole as quietly as he could down the pier.
Only when he had made it past the first few houses did he pause to breathe. He had escaped. The thought crowded his mind, filled him with ecstasy.
Confident in his silence, Erath broke into a run, going through the town in no more than five minutes. He stopped to catch his breath after he was clear of the little seaside city, and then took off running again. He knew not where he would go, or where to find food, but one thing reverberated in his mind: he was free.
