Merrick leaned his forehead against the rusty iron bars. Save for the lantern hanging overhead, all was dark in the deepest part of the ship. He had been beaten and thrown into the hold hours ago, and in that time, Merrick had rattled, pried, kicked, and punched the cage that confined him, causing only more pain in his already battered body. Soon the lantern would sputter out, leaving him alone with the rats and the putrid smell of the bilge.
Dropping to the floor, he drew up his knees and leaned back against the bars. Cool moisture from the hull soaked into his breeches, reminding him of stories he had heard of men imprisoned in the hold for weeks whose feet had rotted from the constant saturation. He chuckled. A fitting end for a man who'd been enlightened and had tasted of the good word of God and the powers of the world to come, and then fallen away. The verse from Hebrews scoured his conscience.