Rescuing Rapunzel (The Princess Chronicles Book 3)

by Tarrah Montgomery

  “Help me, Bash and Lark!” Eddy shouted to his brothers. “I’ll push the buttons to unlock it, then you guys shove it open.”

  The two boys pushed when he gave them the signal, but the door still didn’t open. “Push harder!” he shouted. “Ram into it!”

  Dude joined them and the three of them crashed into the door. It budged only slightly.

  Sunny, Sanders, and Maddox joined their brothers. With their combined weight, the six strong boys finally pushed down the door. The wooden panel cracked down the middle and bent a little, and the boys all tumbled through in a jumbled heap. A table had blocked the door on the other side, but their force had pushed it out of the way.

  After a few grunts and complaints, the Atwood brothers untangled, sat up, and brushed themselves off. Aunt Em and I stepped through the door, along with Hansel and Gretel. I forgot Dorothy was also with us until she climbed over her brothers and looked around. “Wow, is this the castle?”

  I smiled at her excitement. “No, this is only a manor.”

  “Is this where Rapunzel is?” Maddox asked, his concern apparent. He already moved toward the hallway. “How many guards are there and where do you think they are? Or do you know?”

  Wow, she must really like him if she told him about all of that, I thought. I didn’t even know about the guards.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  “Wait,” Aunt Em said to her eager nephew. “You must stick together. Promise me you will stay close to Snow and protect her while you’re looking for Rapunzel.”

  “Of course, Aunt,” Maddox said, taking a step back next to me.

  “I’m going, too,” Eddy exclaimed. I couldn’t keep my heart from doing a quick flutter at his heroic offer.

  “Me too,” said Lark, echoed by Bash’s and then the rest of the remaining brothers. “Me too.” They were all volunteering to go.

  Did they really believe what their aunt had told them, and would they sacrifice their safety to help me and rescue Rapunzel? Their offers warmed my heart. I was completely impressed with this family. They took care of their own, even when their home was in ashes at their feet.

  “I want to go, too,” Dorothy moaned.

  Not surprisingly, Aunt Em said, “No, sweetheart, you need to stay with me.”

  “We must hurry,” Maddox said, tapping his foot.

  “Yes, we must go,” I admitted, concerned for Rapunzel’s safety. “The thing is, I have no idea where she is or even if she went through this magic door to Fenmore Falls. It could all be a trick. I don’t know who took Rapunzel, but I can’t allow you to put your lives on the line. We are strangers in your land of Idaho, and you’ve been so kind to us. Plus right now your aunt needs you.”

  Maddox shook his head. “I could never leave her to whatever these people want to do to her. She’s been through enough on her own. If anyone else wants to go back to Idaho to help Aunt Em, they can. But I’m going to find Rapunzel.”

  “We’re all going,” the others said. “We’ll fix the house up later,” Lark added.

  “See. Raisin’ ‘em right,” Em said to me with a wink. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll line up some people to help clean up the mess at the house and take care of the farm while you boys are gone.”

  Dorothy shot her an angry look. “They get to have all the fun and leave me home to do all the work.”

  Em cuffed her playfully on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Might even be good for you.”

  “Well, the evidence of the people who started the fire in our house and the barricade against the door is proof enough to believe Punz is in Fenmore Falls somewhere. But where?” Maddox asked. “Hopefully, with our help, we’ll be able to find her.”

  So, after saying goodbye to Aunt Em and Dorothy, we set off on our adventure, Hansel and Gretel, the seven boys from a strange land called Idaho, and me.

  Leading a rescue mission to find my lost cousin was just what I always wanted.

  I had, of course, never imagined this sort of company, but somehow probably the best choice in rescuers I could have made.

  Call us Snow White and the seven boys.

  Chapter 20

  History of Piracy

  It may be reasonable to assume that piracy has existed for as long as the oceans were plied for commerce.

  The earliest documented instances of piracy are the exploits of the Sea Peoples who threatened the ships sailing in the Aegean and Mediterranean waters in the 14th century BC. In classical antiquity, the Illyrians and Tyrrhenians were known as pirates.

  The ancient Greek and ancient Roman vilizations faced piracy. During their voyages, the Phoenicians sometimes resorted to piracy. Some Phoenician pirates specialized in kidnapping children and youth to be sold as slaves. —Wikipedia

  On a Pirate Ship

  }Rapunzel}

  The ship I had spotted earlier was definitely a pirate ship, complete with a skull and crossbones on its black flag and filthy, barefoot sailors with cutlasses tucked in their pants. When our carriage pulled up near the shore, I could already see the oars of a small boat cutting through the waves in our direction.

  I pulled against the restraints on my wrists. My chance to escape was rapidly disappearing.

  “Have you ever been on a pirate ship, Princess?” the woman asked.

  I ignored her. I wanted to be the one to ask the questions and I didn’t feel like being cuddly with someone who, it seemed, intended to sell me to pirates. “Who are you, anyway?”

  It was her turn to ignore me.

  The bands rubbed my skin raw as I pulled and twisted. Blood trickled down my hand. Maybe that would make the restraint easier to get off. Time was running out as the boat full of men approached the shore. The boat scuffed onto the sand in the surf and one of the burly men jumped out to pull the boat farther ashore. The men hopped out onto dry land.

  “It will be much different than your life in your protected tower,” the woman said, sneering.

  I wondered how much this woman knew. She seemed to know everything about me, yet I knew nothing about her or the rest of the company.

  The boys in the carriage snickered. The taller one opened the door for us to climb out. When the other one yanked my arm, he noticed my bleeding hands and said, “It’ll be better if you stop struggling. You’ll only cause more damage to your wrists.” His words were almost empathetic, but before I could look at my captor to gauge his sincerity, the old hag thrust me forward toward the arriving pirates.

  The woman greeted the four hairy, ragged men who didn’t look like they had bathed in months. One of them said, “You’re right on time. The captain figured you’d be late.”

  “Ugh, why does he always have to doubt me?” she complained. “Have I ever let him down?”

  “No, milady,” said another man missing the majority of his brownish front teeth.

  “Whose idea was it to follow those two children back to Sherwood Manor to see if they would lead us to the princess?” she asked.

  “Yours, milady,” the men said in unison.

  The old crone smiled a creepy smile that never reached her eyes. “Who didn’t want to wait any longer, and who put matters into her own hands to get things done?”

  They warily bowed their heads and said, “Yours, milady.”

  “That’s right,” she exclaimed. “I’m going to give the captain a piece of my mind.”

  She nodded to her two henchmen. “John, Michael, put the princess in the boat. I have no doubt she’ll resist, so you might as well both drag her in right now. And watch those kicking legs.”

  Their fingers dug into my arms. I squeezed the moisture from the corners of my eyes as a result. The woman and the pirates all climbed in after the boys hoisted me into the boat, and the pirates rowed the boat across the water toward my first experience on a pirate ship, actually, my first experience on a ship of any kind. I glanced at the toothless man in front of me, and he gave me a smirk.

  I had never seen the sea when I was young, a
nd I only read about ships and pirates in my books. It should have made me at least a little happy - to finally be taking my first boat trip, but the stories I’d heard about pirates made me quake with terror at what might lay ahead of me. I couldn’t calm the shaking of my legs as the burly men stroked through the waves, moving us horribly forward.

  A rope ladder—from my reading I knew it was called a Jacob’s ladder—hung down the side of the boat. The old woman started to climb up first, leaving her two assistants to try to bully me up the ladder next. When I looked down, thinking about jumping in the water, the tall one noticed. “She can’t climb the ladder with her hands tied. And if I let her loose she’ll jump.”

  “Stupid boy,” hissed the crone. “Lug her up here yourself. Let Michael come up first so he can help pull her on board.” She looked at me with a scowl. “If you struggle, he’ll drop you. And the sharks that always follow the ship will eat you within seconds.”

  I gulped and stopped struggling. I wanted to get away, but not to my certain death.

  The boy named John flung me over his shoulder and slowly made his way grunting up the ladder. I couldn’t hold onto anything since my hands were tied, and I stared with dread at the steely water as we made the long climb. His shoulder dug painfully into my stomach and he stank of sweat and fish.

  The other boy had climbed first and waited for us at the top. He grabbed hold of me and jerked me over the edge so the other one could haul himself over. I tumbled into him and we both fell onto the deck.

  “Sorry,” he said. He awkwardly pushed me off of him, not sure where to put his hands.

  His apology startled me again, like his empathetic comment from before. It was out of place and made me curious if there was a hidden tenderness to him.

  “Michael,” his partner called out. “You had the easy job. At least pretend you’re doing your part.”

  He gruffly stood and helped me up. I was sure his apology had been a mistake, a regret as soon as it left his mouth.

  “Look alive!” a pirate shouted. “The captain is coming!”

  Everyone stood at attention, even the wicked woman. They yanked off their hats. A hush fell over the crowd.

  A handsome, bearded man in a long, dark-red coat exited a doorway at the other end of the ship and walked across the deck. He wore a white wig under his black hat. His coat, waistcoat, and breeches were all the same color, a fashion called “suit in ditto.” The clothes were made of the finest fabric. A snowy-white cravat and white stockings contrasted starkly with his suit and black buckled shoes.

  His eyes locked onto mine. They reminded me of the ocean on a sunny day—deep blue and hypnotizing. His attention never wavered from me even when he addressed the woman. “You surprise me, dear wife.” His voice dripped like velvet.

  Wife?

  “Why do you doubt me?” she said rather timidly. It was clear who held the power in their relationship.

  The captain still stared at me, and his eyes turned a shade darker. “Trust takes only a second to break and forever to regain. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “How was I supposed to know someone would find out about our plot and kidnap this lot before we had the chance?” The woman’s voice raised a notch and came out as a whine.

  The captain finally released me from his penetrating stare and looked at his wife. “You had one job and you failed.”

  She threw her hand in my direction. “She’s here. All is well. Can we just move on?”

  “Hopefully it’s not too late,” he growled.

  The woman bowed her head in defeat. .

  “Take the princess below decks,” the captain shouted, making me jump.

  My usual guards leaped to my side and pushed me toward a stairway leading below decks. A few pirates followed.

  Before I took the first step down, I could smell the dank and clammy odor of human waste and garbage. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. No description in my pirate books could have accurately prepared me for the stench.

  We climbed down three flights of stairs, each step creaking in protest. The deeper we descended, the heavier my heart felt as I realized my dire situation.

  Eventually, we came to the belly of the ship and stumbled past a row of prison cells. The bars and locks contained no prisoners, but I could smell the evidence of those who had once been unfortunate enough to be locked away there. A wave of nausea hit me hard.

  A room lay in a cell at the end of the row. The door had a heavy bolt on it. One of the pirates opened it and stood aside for my guards to shove me in. A small round window let in a weak ray of light to show that I was standing in a tiny enclosure devoid of furniture.

  I turned quickly to watch as the door slammed shut. With the click of the heavy lock, they had trapped me again, locked in a room, though not a tower, but it might as well have been. And this tiny room stank like old fish and rancid sea water and oily bilge.

  At first I tried to keep my breathing as shallow as possible because of the stench, but it didn’t help. Soon I got dizzy, and my head began to ache. My body protested in agony at the prospect of being trapped again in a small space and the rolling of the waves made me more and more nauseous.

  I counted the steps across the room. Only six. When I walked the length, it was barely eight. I measured the space again, my obsessive compulsiveness in full swing.

  After pacing the room more than a couple dozen times, I collapsed to the floor. Still tied behind my back, my wrists burned from the restraints, made worse by the motion of the ship. I wanted to cry, but panic wouldn’t let tears come. Instead, I counted my breaths and closed my eyes. Finally, after a few minutes of meditation, my body started to calm down.

  I sat cross-legged on the wooden floor and looked across the dirty room. Scratch marks filled one wall, indicating how many days someone once occupied the room. I counted 156. I prayed I wouldn’t even come close to that number. Staying just one day would be misery enough.

  I stretched out on the floor but soon curled up, holding my stomach. I needed to be sick, but they had left me without even a bucket. I hunched over and carefully scrunched my body so I could slide my tied hands underneath me. With relief, I put my hands into my lap and surveyed my wrists. It looked like someone had taken a red paintbrush and painted multiple rings around my arms. Some of the marks scored deep into my hands and might leave permanent damage.

  There was nothing in the room I could use to cut the heavy plastic restraints. Even if I managed to break them, what would I do? The door was locked shut. Perhaps I could shatter the small window and squeeze through, but I couldn’t swim well. I would probably sink to the bottom. And there were sharks, they said. Plus we might be far from shore now.

  I crept up and jumped, then jumped again, trying to see out the little window. Finally I caught a glimpse of the not-too-distant shore. Also, the boat didn’t seem to be moving forward, so we probably hadn’t set sail. I breathed a sigh of relief

  I wondered if Snow was attempting to find me. I hoped she was still in Idaho, safe with Aunt Em. I couldn’t bear it if she was also in danger. The pirates could do to me what they wished, but I wouldn’t let them hurt Snow.

  I sat back down on the floor, but my position grew steadily more uncomfortable, so I stretched my legs in front of me. I still wore the shoes Aunt Em had lent to me for the harvest dance. They were the most peculiar shoes I’d ever seen. I was used to slippers made of silk, worsteds, or leathers, and fastened with buckles or clasps. These sturdy brown shoes had laces.

  An idea sprang into my mind. I crossed my legs and used my bleeding fingers to untie the shoelaces, pull them out of the shoes, and knot them together. I slipped one lace through the band around my wrists. Pulling at the last knot, I held my tied hands away from my feet to create tension in the strings. Using a kicking motion, I rubbed the shoelace back and forth on the plastic. At first, nothing happened. I pulled and kicked harder until with a snap, the plastic band broke. My feet jerked to the f
loor and my hands flew up.

  I couldn’t believe it had worked. I jumped up and pushed against the door. Of course, it was locked and didn’t budge. I moved to the round window and stood on my tiptoes to look again out upon the steel-colored water. The waterline was only a few feet below my window since we were so far below deck, and the shore was perhaps a hundred yards away.

  Even though I couldn’t swim, I knew how to doggy-paddle, and maybe I could float on my back when I got tired. I decided to try. But I couldn’t let the weight of heavy fabric pull me down when I jumped into the water, so I’d have to leave my outer clothing here and swim in my underclothes.

  Once I had removed my dress, petticoats, and stockings, all I had left was my shift and stays. Moving would be easier without the constraining corset, but I needed it for modesty’s sake when I emerged from the water.

  I took off my shoes and slid my fisted hand inside one. With as much force as I could gather, I used it to punch against the window. Pain reverberated through my arm.

  Ouch! I shook out my aching limb.

  I pushed my fist back inside the shoe, then took a step back and tried again. This time, I ignored the pain and kept punching until finally a crack snaked across the glass. With one final punch, the window shattered and sprinkled to the floor like glistening snowflakes.

  With the shoe I brushed aside the shards of leftover glass and peeked out to survey my surroundings. Besides the voices of pirates working up on deck, the coast, as it were, seemed clear.

  I hoisted myself through the window. Resting on my stomach with only my head and arms poking out, I heard the click of the lock on my door.

  Oh, dear!

  A low laugh echoed through the small room. “What have we here?” a man said. Dread robbed me of breath as I recognized the smooth voice of the captain.

  The door closed and the tap of footsteps approached. The captain grabbed me around the waist and hauled me back inside the room. A lone piece of glass dug into my side. I cried out in pain.