The Stowaways in the Cabin（2）

The stout captain, Barsadi, stormed over, grabbing her long hair and dragging her toward the lower deck. She struggled desperately, but his thick hands locked around her wrists. He sneered, "Sweetheart, go take your meds and sleep."

A group of thuggish sailors joined in, carrying the crazed woman away as she cursed and screamed. I understood enough English from my days as a mercenary in Thailand to catch her frantic plea: her child had fallen overboard, and she was willing to sleep with anyone who would rescue him.

I'd seen this woman last year when she'd also been lost at sea. I couldn't tell whether she was American or European, but she'd somehow ended up as Barsadi's wife. Within six months, she'd gone mad.

Over the past few days, I often spotted sailors sneaking into her cabin at night. Barsadi himself frequently emerged, fastening his pants with a satisfied grin. Among those who carried her off was a burly, bearded Frenchman, a known criminal, along with several shirtless Malaysian sailors who seemed to be his lackeys. I couldn't fathom why Barsadi would hire such a lawless crew, but perhaps he preferred men who were used to the wild, untamed life of the sea.

That night, I lay in my hammock. The weather was unusually calm, with moonlight casting a glow on the damp deck and the sea shimmering dark and heavy under its light. The white mist hung thickly, carrying an air of mystery. My thoughts wandered to my cozy attic back home, to Luya and Yiliang.

Just as I was drifting off, the clatter of hurried footsteps on the deck jolted me awake. I grabbed my knife, tucking it into my boot, and slipped a pistol into the back of my waistband. Guided by flickering oil lamps, I climbed to the deck.

The commotion wasn't a fight; instead, the crew was rushing toward the cargo hold. A Thai sailor muttered something about stowaways. Their excitement was palpable, as if they'd struck gold.

Stowaways rarely fared well. Without visas, they posed a liability to the ship, especially at port, where customs inspections could lead to hefty fines or legal trouble. Ruthless captains often ordered such "problems" tossed into the sea. Barsadi was notorious for this.

I followed the men into the oval-shaped cargo hold, crowded with mountains of goods. A group of sailors raised their oil lamps, their light revealing two filthy figures huddled in a corner, trembling.

A hairy sailor, ape-like in appearance, lunged forward, yanking one stowaway by the hair and shouting gleefully, "A girl! Two girls!" My heart sank. These monsters were far too excited—there was no doubt about their intentions.

Another sailor laughed in Thai, "This is perfect! We can enjoy them every day until we're near shore, then toss them overboard to the sharks. Hahaha!"

Barsadi stood nearby, his face twisted in a lecherous grin.

One of the girls, wrapped in a grimy goatskin coat, was dragged out, thrashing against the sailor's grip. When I saw her wide, tear-filled eyes, my blood ran cold. Luya. It was Luya. What was she doing here?

Rage surged through me. I pushed past the sailors, grabbing the hairy man by the throat. A sickening crunch echoed as his larynx shifted under my grip.

The others froze, staring at me in shock. One sailor lunged, but I sent him flying with a kick to the stomach. He landed by the door, retching violently.

The burly Frenchman stepped forward, his chest muscles flexing, but Barsadi held him back.

"Horse," Barsadi said, his voice dripping with mock civility. "We're business partners. No need to ruin our friendship over a couple of girls. If you want them first, fine. But they won't stay on this ship. My reputation with the authorities is at stake."

I tightened my grip on the trembling Luya and replied, "These girls are here for me. I'll take responsibility for their safety. If customs worry you, I'll give you half the profits from this shipment. You can buy all the women you want with that. Deal?"

Barsadi hesitated. He was cunning enough to know the cost of a fight with me. My reputation preceded me—killing seven mercenaries in under two minutes wasn't something he'd forgotten.

Reluctantly, he nodded. I released the choking sailor, who collapsed, gasping for air. Luya threw herself into my arms, sobbing. "Yiliang's still inside," she whispered.

I urged her to fetch Yiliang. She wiped her tears and returned with her.

"Barsadi," I said firmly, "as you can see, these two are with me. Let's settle this and move on."

Barsadi's greedy eyes flickered, calculating his next move. But he knew as well as I did—these girls were untouchable now.