Despite the thumping beat in my head, I had managed to rise early. The fear of being late on my very first day had ensured a restless sleep and I tried to stifle a yawn as I looked down upon the eerily quiet market square for one last time. I saw nothing but bolted shop windows, stray wooden carts and the odd chicken pecking for leftovers. Not even the troubadour, who usually acted as an alarm to everyone on Robney Island, had started plucking his instrument for that day. I dressed quickly, putting my light knapsack around my shoulders, full of my most worldly possessions. Packing them had felt measly, my life represented through four objects; the silver pocket watch of my mother’s, the watercolour of a blue skylark Syd had painted before he left, my good tunic and the bag of apples the grocer had snuck to me under the tavern bar last night, as we drank to my health and said our goodbyes. I took one last look around my empty room, feeling no attachment to the wonky four walls that had held my childhood. In nostalgia’s place was the taste of freedom.

However, as I reached into my pocket the feeling of the cool, heavy metal between my fingers quickly squashed any feelings of emancipation. My heart sank. I was seemingly too full of excitement and alcohol last night to remember to return the key to my stepmother. She would dine out on this for days, reminding my father at every opportunity what a stupid girl he had bred. I thought about shoving it under the door on the way out but knew that would only fuel her into saying I was spineless as well as forgetful. Besides, I had nothing to lose now. So I found myself tiptoeing down the creaky corridor, passing a cacophony of snores and grunts from the surrounding rooms. When I reached the last bedroom at the end, I looked directly at the cross-stitched heron on the door and gave three short and confident raps on it. The animal’s beady blue eyes stared right back at mine as I waited. It felt unnatural to be so daring. I pressed my ear closer and could hear my father’s deep snores. My head started ticking, I knew that I couldn’t be late. I couldn’t lose the freedom I hadn’t even gained yet. I knocked again, another three short raps, more confident this time. Nothing. This wasn’t worth it. Just as I was about to slide the key under the door, it creaked open. The tall, thin woman who had made my life a living hell for years stood there, with her dark grey hair pulled back tightly into a twisted bun. In all the time I had known her I had never seen one stray hair out of place, and I wondered whether her fixing it was the reason she had made me wait so long. She stared at me, her piercing glare making all my previous feelings of bravery disappear.

“Yes?” she snarled.

Her mouth curled, a mix of irritation and pleasure that I had done something wrong. Muttering my apologies, she simply rolled her eyes in response and held her hand out. I wasn’t sure whether she had done this to make me feel uncomfortable, as I couldn’t help but stare at the hole in the centre of her palm. I had only seen it a handful of times, as she normally covered up with linen gloves that she made my father buy her. Over time, the sphere had become so perfect that you could see right through it to her mangled toes on the ground. She grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the trance and making me jump. I was inches away from her, closer than I ever had been. I could see her yellowing teeth and the large pores across her withered face.

“I’d go careful if I were you. It’s no place for staring, where you are heading.”

Pulling my arm out of her grip, I did not attempt to share any parting last words as I swiftly made my way back down the stark corridor, trying to shake off her icy touch.

And that was it, my grand goodbye. Not that I expected anything less, as my father had hardly looked at me since he had wed my stepmother a decade before. He was a changed man from when I was younger. No warmth had surrounded him in a while and he was now more interested in how much money he could make by selling the rooms from our family home than his youngest child. I was glad to be finally rid of them both, to be rid of the island which I had called home for all my life. I had waited for the day I would be free from cleaning the same barns, scrubbing the same walls, and cooking the same meals. I would no longer have to spend my meagre wage at the nearby dilapidated tavern. Or endure the stench of stale beer and the same gloomy faces, as we all tried to distract ourselves by drinking and gambling. I wouldn’t have to have repetitive conversations with the landlord, Fallstaff, who constantly complained about how much Robney was changing. It was true that ships now regularly passed through, with more people moving here permanently. We were the third highest island and prone to periods of droughts and famine, so when I was growing up we had few visitors, but now new shops were being built rapidly with freshly painted windows, selling days-old fruit from the ground. The price of bread from Ms McManty’s had risen, as there was more competition now and ale went up so much that we had to sip rather than gulp. I was doing exactly that - nursing my warm pint - one night a fortnight ago, when Fallstaff had placed a letter down next to my cup. I excitedly ripped it open, revealing word from Syd, telling me to meet him at the dock the very next Tuesday. They finally had an opening for a cabin girl on his ship and he had persuaded the captain to try me out.

The day I had waited for had finally come and I was making my way east to my new home. I passed the market square, spotting the troubadour finally up and ready to perform for the day. He waved fondly to me. I had always got on with the old man, giving him a coin when I could and a handle of beer when I was feeling generous.

“Sail well, young friend, be careful there, won’t ye? I heard stories...terrible stories from that ship. Let me sing you a song for you to be on your way.”

The bells on his jacket started jingling as he began to tune his pennywhistle but I said my apologies as I didn’t think my ale-head would be able to take the shrill noise this early in the morning. I waved, quickly rounding the last corner, my mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. I was abruptly faced with a throng of people and noise circling me, getting caught up in the tidal wave of the crowd; above me, packages were being passed through hands, relatives were being lovingly reunited but mostly people shoved each other to catch a glimpse of the mighty sight before us – the most magnificent galleon I had ever seen. I looked at her deeply carved ornate patterns of birds, clouds and planets sculpted into the stocky oak timber of her frame, rows and rows of bronze cannons stood proudly on the double gun deck and the large purple silken sails embroidered with a golden eye flapped proudly in the breeze. Her name was carved in the wood of the stern - The Kindest Regard. She was elegant, robust, and...spectacular. I stood there gawking and suddenly felt very small, as a large shadow loomed over me. I turned to see a man three times the size of anyone I had met before. He grunted.

“Are yer th’cabin girl?”

I gulped and nodded.

“Do yer speak?”

“Aye. Yes I do, Sir.”

“Can yer clean?”

“Aye. Yes I can, Sir”

“Can yer scrub?”

“She can do it all, Ty.”

The voice that came behind him was one I recognised, a boy who had grown double since the last time I saw him. His sandy-coloured hair, the same as my own, was now cut to his skull but he still had the same wide gap-tooth grin and the birthmark under his right nostril. I beamed at my brother and he gave me a small smile back.

“I’ll show her the ropes.”

Ty didn’t look so sure as he looked me up and down.

“You’ll be on trial fer t’day. You’ll meet the Cap’n at supper. If she doesn’t like yer, you’ll be out. Although we’re not comin’ back till month next. So I’d say you’d wanna rub your fingers to the bone ter try and impress her. Ye hear?”

I nodded.

“Get to it then. Let’s see what yer made of.”

He strode away. Syd motioned me to follow him, leading me down the creaky staircase of the boat. We passed men and women, all seamlessly working, serving the ship in perfect succession; lowering the anchor to the docking clamp, hoisting up the mast and loading goods to the islanders. I smiled at each one nervously and they gave me unfriendly stares back. Syd and I arrived at a small cabin and he opened the door to reveal a room with a bunk bed. It was basic and tidy, not like his room back at home, where his messy belongings were strewn everywhere and his paintings hung up in different stages of drying.

“My bunkmate just moved out. Couldn’t handle it. You can have the bottom one.”

I put my knapsack on the bed and took out his skylark drawing, ceremoniously pinning it to the wall proudly. Syd looked awkward.

“I wouldn’t...you know, in case someone sees...”

He paused.

“This isn’t the place for drawings.”

An awkward silence fell between us.

“You look different,” I told him. I had wanted to say he felt different, was different.

He just shrugged.

“Grown up, haven’t I.”

I looked at his broad defined muscles, his tanned face and protruding chin, all in place of his youthful features. Grown up, he had.

The horn sounded, interrupting us and he straightened up.

“Listen, I’m glad you’re here. I am,” he assured me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“But I put my neck on the line for you. Ty’s right, you gotta work hard.”

“I won’t let you down, Syd. I promise.”

He hugged me then. I noticed he still smelt the same, of wood polish and gunpowder, only a little sweatier now.

“Besides, I’ve spent my whole life working for an old bitter woman. From what everyone’s been telling me. Cap’ns just the same.” I joked.

I expected him to laugh, but his body went stiff and he pulled away, frowning.

“Don’t say such things.”

He looked down at his feet, embarrassed.

“I’m serious. Don’t say those things about the Captain.” I apologised.

“We better go. They’ll be wanting you up the front.”

I had worked hard in my lifetime; I had lost count of how many times I had made up the beds in my father’s board house, scrubbed chamber pots for hours at a time, boiled stained sheets with unidentified marks crusted into them, stayed up nights in a row peeling and attempting to salvage rotten vegetables. But that first day on The Kindest Regard was something entirely different. I began a dance; running from stern to bow and back again, being barked at from all directions with a multitude of tasks; my hands quickly became blistered from scrubbing, my knees bruised from falling over and my eyes bloodied by the blazing sun. The ship itself was well organised, led by Ty who barked orders and threatened the whip to anyone who wasn’t doing their jobs properly or moving fast enough. The crew were silent; scurrying around, not daring to answer back, sing songs or joke with one another. They just worked, knowing exactly what they had to do and when they had to do it. Despite this, I had tried my best to make conversation and give them a smile in passing, which was met with looks of disgust. After an hour or two, Syd pulled me aside and whispered to me to stop trying so hard, it wasn’t the way things were. My eyes stung with tears at the thought of embarrassing him and I couldn’t help but think how wildly different this was from what I had been dreaming of. Without knowing, sometime around lunchtime when I was emptying the captain’s chamber pot, thoughts of my childhood bed drifted into my brain; the warmth of my quilted blanket, the smell of pies rising above the window, a fresh drink from Fallstaff. But I couldn’t dwell in this reminiscing for long because a change in direction made me spill my guts out, luckily overboard this time. Next to me, a small, stout man with unwashed amber hair almost chuckled.

“Fresh bait. Don’t let the boss see you like that – she don’t like anyone without sky legs.” I took this as a friendly warning and thanked him. He scowled back at me.

As the sun was going down, Syd told me to follow him to the bottom of the boat to clean icicles. We descended as far as we could go and when the stairs had run out, I finally plucked up the courage to ask how we would get to the icicles. He pointed to the precarious wooden hatch at the bottom.

“What outside? Out there...”I stuttered.

He reached down into his tunic, pulled out some rope then looked at me square in the face. “Just make sure you’re holding on with at least one of your hands.” He warned.

Although my heart was thudding again, I couldn’t bear for Syd to think I couldn’t handle it, so reluctantly I let him wrap the rope in tight coils around my waist, ignoring whatever was left in my stomach that wanted to come to the top. I watched him carefully as he did so, trying my best to think of any good excuse to stay aboard and not risk my life out in the middle of the sky. But before I knew it, he had tied the ropes around a large rock on the floor, then ripped open the hatch casually, revealing a whoosh of cool air that nearly knocked us both over. Without hesitation, he quickly disappeared from the ship, gesturing for me to follow. As I peered down from the hatch, I saw that he was now hanging from the boat, I could just about see the whites of his tough hands clutching onto small handles that etched along the side of it. He glared at me and I took a deep breath, reluctantly shimming myself down to join him. The frosty wind, loud and daunting, hit my face. It whipped up all over my body and I winced as it reached between my sore hands. I then attempted to follow Syd, who was already moving expertly between the handles. I tried to concentrate on his sandy hair as I mimicked him, rather than looking down or out to nothingness. With each handle I grabbed, I took a deep breath in and out, just another one and another. Finally, by some miracle, we got to the middle of the ship and Syd stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief and saw that the underside was full of elongated spikes of all different sizes, looking blue in their frostiness. When caught in the sunset, they glistened, shimmering hues of all different colours of the rainbow. But I was quickly torn out of my trance by Syd who started hacking away at them. He handed me another cutlass and I reluctantly copied his movements, watching the beautiful icicles dropping through the clouds.

“What if they fall into something?” I asked.

“They’ll melt before they can reach anyone.”

I looked down then, wanting to follow where the icicles were heading. Circling us was a mist of velvet clouds, moving gently through the sky with ease, painted with shades of white that I hadn’t thought possible; greys, creams and light pink all tangled up in soft circles. I had only ever looked up to the fluffy clouds before from Robney, wishing I could hop on them to take me away. Looking down on them felt entirely different. And now, in place of feeling frightened, a lightness entered my head. For the first time that day, I felt no sickness, no tiredness or worry. No nothing. Just stillness as I methodically removed the unwanted hangers-on from our boat.

By some miracle I made my way back along the edge of the boat, my body and mind feeling strangely cleansed as my feet touched the wooden floorboards. But it was quickly broken by being sent straight to Cook, who turned out to be as friendly as the rest of them.

“Stand there, then you are to take it up to the Cap’n and wait until she’s finished every last drop.” She instructed me as the smell of the rotten kitchen, like boiling leeks, quickly made me forget the freshness of the outside. I watched Cook crouched over the plate, puffing on a pipe out of the side of her mouth, smoke expertly spiralling away from the perfectly placed produce. I had never seen the food that she was plating up, a large brown bird that she was massaging orange sauce into, bright green flowering vegetables standing up like a small forest. All alongside the largest fat-drenched potatoes I had ever laid eyes on. My stomach growled loudly and Cook grunted at me.

“No food ‘til Maggie gives you the all-clear.”

When Cook had finally spiralled the meal with a red bloody jus, she stood back and admired her handy work. She stared for a few minutes, continuing to puff away before placing the enormous meal into my hands. I hurried to the door, avoiding the gaze of the crew as they glared at me as I passed. When I eventually reached the captain’s cabin door I heard loud thuds against the back of it. A grunt, a thud, a grunt, a thud. The last thud made me jump, causing a juicy potato to roll onto its side, in turn knocking over a green tree. I placed the hefty plate on the floor and quickly tried to rearrange it, scrambling to make it look like Cook had. The bird’s expired eye locked with mine, suspicious. My attempt to balance the food adequate, I looked to the door again, still hearing the thud, thud, thud. I noticed tiny silver arrows poke through the wood of it and took a deep breath before I knocked. Three short raps. I waited. Thud. Silence. Seconds later it creaked open, revealing the woman herself, waiting to decide my fate.