Bilge-Water

I should probably mention, if you haven't guessed already, that I fully intend to mess with the canon here. Because that is what fanfiction is for. Also, I'm still a pretty inexperienced writer, so I'd really appreciate any feedback or advice or whatever, so please R&R :)

Mr Gibbs insisted on Grantaire walking in front of him up the gangplank onto the ship. Grantaire looked over his shoulder to see the two other pirates manhandling an unconscious Enjolras towards the gangplank. The deep foreboding that had settled in the pit of his stomach grew worse, and he stopped before he stepped onto the ship. Mr Gibbs firmly pushed Grantaire onto the ship.

In the gloom, he could make that there were about twenty sailors already on board. 'Forward.' Mr Gibbs poked Grantaire in the back, and he began to make his way across the deck. 'Down here.' Mr Gibbs pointed to an open hatch, and they descended the steep steps into the almost total darkness below. 'Ehh...now what?' Grantaire ventured cautiously, when they came to a sudden stop. 'Here we are.' Mr Gibbs sounded as if he was smiling, then pushed Grantaire forward into a completely dark room. Grantaire landed on his hands and knees, and heard the door slam behind him, and bolts being drawn. Then there was silence.

Grantaire sat with his back against the door, hugging his knees, and desperately tried to see in the darkness. You are a fool. He told himself. What did you think was going to happen? You're a prisoner here as much as you would be if we'd been arrested. I suppose this way we might not die. I wonder where Enjolras is? Just as he thought this, he felt the door behind him open, and he quickly moved out of the way. Something heavy was thrown into the room and landed with a thud somewhere to his left. 'He's a heavy 'un,' a deep voice grumbled, then the door was slammed shut and bolted again. Must be Enjolras, Grantaire thought hopefully. He groped blindly across the slimy floor until he felt the warm, solid material of Enjolras' shoulder. He dragged his friend over beside him. Enjolras was still unconscious. Hugging his knees tighter than ever, Grantaire fought down the dark feelings of despair, regret, and trepidation until he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

Grantaire awoke with a jolt to a horrendous feeling of seasickness. The boat was lurching drunkenly about, making it virtually impossible to stand up. At least his eyes had gotten a little used to the darkness. They were in a much smaller room than he'd initially thought, with about half a dozen lopsided, patched and darned hammocks slung in the corner. An alarming giant puddle of cold, salty bilge-water had gathered in the centre of the room, and was already lapping at their feet. Enjolras was still lolling drunkenly against his shoulder.

'Enjolras?' Grantaire whispered hopefully, poking his friend.

'Mmm? What? What?' Enjolras moaned. 'Oh, I feel absolutely awful.'

'You would. You drank enough last night.'

'Did I? I honestly can't remember. How you can do that night after night is beyond me. My head feels as if it's about to split...' he sat up, squinted around him, and froze. 'Grantaire?'

'Y..yes?'

'Where are we?'

'That's, eh, an excellent question.' Grantaire was glad the gloom hid his bright red face. He'd always planned to pretend that it had all been accident, which it sort of was. But now the time came, he really didn't want to lie to Enjolras. He'd never had to. 'We seem to have been pressganged,' he heard himself saying. 'You'd been sick and collapsed behind some barrels, and four sailors suddenly jumped on us.'

'No. No. It can't be.' Enjolras sounded shaky. 'Where are we? I might never see France again. How could you let this happen!'

'I...I'm sorry,' Grantaire was taken aback by his friend's anger. 'It's not my fault.'

'Of course it's your fault! I've always taken care of you, and now that I need you...well, look at the mess we're in. This is what comes of having a useless, drunken lout as a friend. Thanks for nothing.' Enjolras shot back bitterly.

His words stung Grantaire. Silently, the young man got up and wobbled over to the hammocks, and manouvered himself into one. 'I'm getting some sleep,' he addressed the ceiling. 'You should probably try and sleep off that hangover. I should know, being a drunken lout and all.'

Enjolras' conscience pricked him. He opened his mouth to apologise, but couldn't make the words come out.

'Wake up! Wake up, you drunken swine!' Mr Gibbs roared, kicking the sleeping blonde gentleman in the ribs. 'Come on, there's work to be done!'

Enjolras rolled over and sat up with a jolt. Grantaire tried to get out of the hammock, but got his legs tangled in it and fell face first into the rancid water which had collected underneath him. Mr Gibbs stood, legs akimbo and arms crossed, as the two young men stood before him. Both stood about a head and a half taller than him.

'Now,' he began, and Enjolras glimpsed the other two pirates, with the wooden eye and the grey stringy beard, lurking in the doorway behind Mr Gibbs. 'You two have probably realised where you are. You look like clever boys, so I presume you've also realised that there's no way off this ship. If you know what's good for you, you'll get a move on and get to work. We've got a fair wind and the Cap'n's set the course, and I'm not going to waste this wind because you two fairies are having a long lie in! Now move!'

Enjolras opened his mouth to argue, and Grantaire elbowed him in his already sore ribs.

'Question?' Mr Gibbs asked icily.

'No sir.' Grantaire replied brightly.

'Pintel and Ragetti will show you what you've to do.' Mr Gibbs jerked his head in the direction of the other two pirates.

'This way.' the one with the wooden smirked horribly. 'I'm Ragetti.'

'And I'm Pintel.' the other one put in. 'What they call you?'

'Grantaire,' Grantaire hesitated, but Enjolras seemed to have no intention of speaking. He was looked around him as they walked up toward the deck, with a bewildered expression. 'My friend's name is Enjolras.'

'Really?' Pintel scoffed. 'Them's stupid names.'

'I suppose.' Grantaire ventured, trying to sound friendly. Surely their best chance right now was to make friends with everybody.

Suddenly they stepped out on deck. The brilliant sunshine was almost blinding after the deep gloom and thick, stale air below deck. There was not a cloud in the perfectly blue sky, and not a trace of land on the horizon. They were completely alone on the vast sea.

'Where...where are we?' Grantaire asked, trying to make his voice steady. He was scared. His plan to get himself and Enjolras safely away from France was backfiring badly. Instead of being stuck in a French port with the authorities closing in, they were trapped on a tiny, leaky, smelly vessel in the middle of the sea, with nowhere to hide.

'Dunno,' Ragetti shrugged.

'How are you two with heights?' Pintel asked with a wicked grin.

'Oh, I'm fine with heights,' Grantaire lied.

'And how's your friend? Him that don't speak? Seriously, is he mute or just stupid?'

Just stupid. Grantaire thought. 'What do you want us to do?'

Ragetti and Pintel exchanged looks, and simultaneously pointed at the sky.

'This is stupid,' Grantaire panted. They were only a third of the way up the rigging, and already he couldn't bring himself to look down. The rickety-looking basket that Pintel said was the crow's nest seemed a million miles away, swaying alarmingly with the rocking of the ship. Navigating the rigging was proving an impossible task for Grantaire, who had already been seasick once already. Enjolras was quite a way ahead of him, hauling himself upwards with determination.

'Enjolras, can't you wait?' Grantaire called up pitfully, hearing the helplessness in his own voice. 'I'm stuck.'

Enjolras hesitated, and looked back. As usual, his face betrayed no emotion, not so much as hint of pity or concern. Grantaire sighed, risked a glance down, and tried to heave himself upward. His foot slipped, and he fell backwards. A hand gripped his, and he swung back against the rigging, and clutched at the ropes.

'Are you all right?' Enjolras' face was still impassive, but he did not let go of Grantaire's wrist until he was sure he had a secure grip on the rigging.

'I'm fine.'

Together they made their way to the crow's nest. It was a poorly constructed box, and the two of them could barely fit in. Grantaire gripped the sides so tightly his knuckles turned white. I don't think I'll ever get used to this rocking. I think I'm going to be sick again. 'What now?' he asked aloud.

Enjolras shrugged and continued staring out to sea. He still had said nothing. Maybe he's sulking, Grantaire thought. 'Well, I suppose we just stick it out till they come in to port. Then we'll make a run for it.'

'They're pirates, aren't they?' Enjolras finally broke his silence.

'Yes,' Grantaire replied reluctantly. 'I mean, I presume so. But I can't imagine it's all excitement and thievery, being a pirate. We'll probably just have a really uneventful journey. What's the worst that can happen?'