Free Burning Bright by Melissa McShane

and go home.
But she knew she wasn’t going back, even if it did mean sleeping in a hammock, surrounded by a hundred sailors.
    They came out from among the great ships being loaded at the docks, into smooth, murky water the color of grey, smoked glass, and the young men, again without looking, steered the boat so it was pointed at a large ship anchored a short distance away. From here, she could clearly read the word ATHENA painted across the rear of the ship. It was beautiful, all sleek curving lines contrasting with the straight masts and cross-beams, its black paint and yellow trim fresh and bright, its sails bundled along the masts white in the morning sun. They were approaching the side of the ship from the rear, which gave it a foreshortened look and prevented Elinor from seeing whatever figurehead might be mounted at the front; would they have put an image of the Greek goddess there?
    A bay of six glass-paned windows across the rear of the ship looked out of place, as if someone’s sitting room were trying to emerge from the ship’s curved posterior. She counted the red-lined gun ports—thirteen, so
Athena
carried twenty-six guns, and more—she couldn’t tell how many—on the deck above. The ship looked enormous to Elinor, though based on the number of guns it was actually small compared to the 74-gun ships of the line that were the pride of the Royal Navy. Lord Melville had called
Athena
one of their fastest ships, but Elinor had trouble believing anything that size could possibly be fast.
That
, however, was an opinion she planned to keep to herself. She had heard sailors were proud of their ships and didn’t like outsiders criticizing them. At least she knew better than to call it a boat.
    It loomed larger as they neared it, the oarsmen not slowing down at all. Elinor gripped the rough edge of her seat and bit her lip to keep from screaming at them to stop before they crashed into the ship. Just as she was certain she would be finding out whether or not she could swim, the seamen dipped the oars, and the boat turned, slowed, and came to a neat stop next to
Athena’
s side, barely kissing the wood without leaving a mark.
    Wooden cleats affixed to the ship’s side ran from the waterline to the deck, high above, like a primitive ladder. Climbing it would be impossible, even if she weren’t wearing a gown. “I can’t climb that,” she told the men, reddening with embarrassment. She was not even aboard ship and already she needed special treatment.
    “Identify yourself!” A head, darkly backlit against the lightening sky, peered down at them.
    The first seaman stood up, rocking the boat so Elinor had to grip the edge of her seat again. “Lady comin’ aboard! Send down the bo’sun’s chair!”
    Moments later a bundle came into view, high above, and was slowly lowered toward them. It turned out to be some kind of seat that did not look stable, a tangle of canvas and rope that, once untangled, hung limp like a child’s swing. The seaman helped Elinor arrange herself in it, holding the ropes while she tried to balance in its exact center and simultaneously keep her gown from hiking up; the other young man stared at her slack-jawed and did not offer to help. The gap-toothed sailor strapped a harness around her and shouted again.
    Elinor gasped as the “chair” jerked into motion. She kept a firm grip, for despite how securely she was fastened into it, she felt terribly unsafe. She carefully kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, insisting to herself she was safe, truly she was; they had handled the whole transaction so matter-of-factly they must do this all the time, and there was nothing to worry about.
    The seat rotated slightly, and she gripped the rope so tightly the fibers cut into her palm as her view went from being one of the ships moored at the dock to the smooth black side of
Athena
, so close she could have touched it if she’d dared let go of what she was clinging to. The young seaman shouted