Before Winter (8)

Chapter 5, part 2
Clutching the rope with one hand, he settled his pack more firmly before attempting to place a foot on the bottom rung. Just at that moment, however, the ship rolled away from him, and he almost fell into the water before he managed to let go of the rope and regain his balance on the dock. In the distance a sailor guffawed, but no further help materialized. With a deep breath, Timothy grasped the rope again as high as he could reach, put his foot on one of the boards, and shifted his weight forward. Hauling himself up, he began to climb. 

There were only a few yards to go, but by the time he reached the railing and swung onto the ship, his forehead was dripping with sweat, and his knuckles were skinned and oozing blood where they had bashed against the hull of the ship. On shaking legs, he wobbled across the deck, towards a lounging seaman. 

“I’m a passenger, where should I put my baggage?” he asked.

The man tossed his head to the right, and Timothy, following the motion, saw a square hole leading down into the hold of the ship. As he started towards it, the ship bumped up against the dock, sending a shiver across the deck, and throwing Timothy off-balance. He staggered, almost falling down the hatch head first, but managed to catch himself by grabbing the edge. From there he was able to swing his legs into the hole, and lower himself down with his arms. 

The light coming through the opening did little to define his surroundings, and he squinted at the vague, murky shapes, trying to get his bearings. As his eyes adjusted, he saw stacks of crates and barrels along the sides of the passage, and he thought he could make out a door at the other end. Making his way in that direction, he almost ran into the mate, as he was coming toward him.  

“Could you show me where my room is?” Timothy asked. “I want to get my belongings stowed.”

“Sure.” The mate reached his arm across the narrow corridor, and jerked open a door which Timothy had not seen in the shadows. “Watch your head,” he advised, and Timothy ducked under the low beam of the doorway. 

“Thanks.” After slipping his pack off of his shoulders, Timothy set it down on the lower bunk, glad to be rid of the weight at last. The door clicked shut behind him, and he sank onto the bed with a sigh of contentment, leaning back until his head rested against the wall. Now that he was not trying to keep his balance, the gentle movement of the ship was soothing, and he closed his eyes, relaxed. 

A pounding and clattering above him made him open them a moment later, as the noise vibrated through the ship, along with indistinct shouts. The suddenness of the commotion caused him to sit up with a start, whacking his head on the bunk. Creaking boards and the clamor of many voices surrounded him, and he guessed that the ship must be getting underway. 

From the sound of it, any attempt at this point to go on deck was likely to result in him being knocked over, so he decided to stay in the safety of his cabin until things became calmer. To pass the time, he pulled out his letter from Paul, and began reading it again.