Bradley and I caught our breath behind the cover of the carriage. The cheap ship rocked back and forth with every wave that crashed against its hull. From the voices and my memory, I made out three different sailors. Two handlers, and one navigator.

We were being hastily propelled further down the river Thames, the only ship in an empty port. It had to be obvious to Price that this ship was harboring the drugs, and if he had any sense about him I would bet that he had already begun to follow us. The only problem was how we transported the crates. Waiting until we get to wherever the sailors have chosen to drop off the goods was a bad idea. We would have many more people to deal with. Yet, we couldn't easily move a wagon full of drugs from one boat to another without someone noticing. The only other option was to dump the crates in the water and hoped they floated, but we had already seen was the murky river did to precious cargo.

In any case, there was no clear route for Bradley and I to take other than waiting.

Bradley sighed. “Well. This certainly could have gone better.”

“Indeed, it could have…” I said, peering past the side of the wagon to view the sailors. They were talking and jeering with one another. I had confidence that they would not hear any amount of talking if we kept ourselves adequately quiet.

“I’m gonna be honest…” Bradley spoke. “I don’t think there’s any way to get what we need. Better to just find a place to hide and get off when we can.”

I could see that Bradley had concerns, with good reason. We could not move the cargo, and we could not commandeer the ship. Begging would be of no use, either. If these men knew that we had caught them, we were as good as dead to keep their secret safe.

With a nod, I began to look around for places to hide. The ship was small and barren, with nothing but the cabin and the wagon. There was a steam engine taking up what had to be the entirety of below the deck. It seemed fruitless, but we had no other option than to look. I was certainly not going to swim back.

As I surveyed the ship, something began to emerge from the fog. The mist above the river was so thick that no one had noticed Price’s ship speeding forwards with its lights off. It was on a clear collision course, and something told me it was not an accident.

Bradley and I jumped to one side of the ship as the two crashed into one another. The casual conversation between the sailors turned to cursing and shouting in an instant. The wood cracked as steel bent. The engine of our boat was quickly shut off as the anchor was hastily dropped.

Without hesitation, Price emerged from the cabin of his boat and jumped to the other ship, pistol in hand.

Two of the three sailors ran to the deck, not noticing Bradley or I. They charged at Price, the first immediately falling to the ground as a shot fired from Price’s pistol. The second slammed into Price before he had a chance to fire again.

Price was kept pinned against the railing of the ship as the sailor wrestled for his pistol. Bradley was mumbling to himself anxiously as I watched, paralyzed with the shock of all that had suddenly happened.

The pistol fired again, the missed shot piercing through the fog in the distance. With enough struggle, the firearm was relinquished and dropped overboard. Seeing that he was now unarmed, the sailor let go of Price and quickly jumped backward. In the time it took Price to get his footing, the sailor had drawn a small knife from his pocket. It may have been unimpressive, but any weapon was a significant advantage in their alteration.

Price reached down to his boot, trying to gain purchase of the knife he also kept. He was interrupted by the sailor, who already had a head start. The man may not have been as strong as Price, but he had an advantage in height and a solid padding of fat. He was not overweight enough to be substantially slow, only enough to let his weight contest with Prices when they struggled to keep their footing.

The sailor charged Price with the blade, leaving Price no choice but to forgo drawing his weapon and to instead brace for impact. They collided, and in a moment they were both on the ground. My heart beat faster and faster, yet my legs would not move. Bradley, however, had regained control of himself and began sprinting towards the fight.

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Price’s forearms were bleeding strongly as he held the knife between his hands. The sailor struggled to get on top of him, all the while shifting the knife and cutting at his wrists. There was no other option for him, though. If Price were to let go, he would be dead.

Bradley immediately kicked the man as he arrived, sending the plump sailor tumbling a few paces away. Price took his opportunity to reach into his boot and retrieve his knife while Bradley kept the sailor preoccupied.

I decided I had to help. The violence was a lot to view, but at that point, it was either them or us. Trying to stand was shaky and troublesome. Not only was I still completely caught off guard, but the ship was still thrusting back and forth from the impact Price had made.

As soon as I gained my footing, though, I was brought straight back to the ground. Something very heavy and metal had just hit the side of my head… That was when I remembered the third sailor…

I looked up to see the sweaty and grizzled man, clutching to a broken pipe. His eyes were wild and red, and he frothed at the mouth like an animal. I hadn’t noticed anything from the other sailors due to my glasses, but now that they had been knocked off it was evident they had been partaking in the drugs they smuggled before Price’s assault.

I scurried backward as the sailor stomped forward. His boot landed on my glasses, shattering them beyond reasonable repair, although that was the least of my concerns as he reeled back the metal pipe.

He brought the pipe down, and although exceedingly strong in his inebriated rage, he was wildly inaccurate. The bar clashed against the metal deck as I tried to gain as much distance between us as possible.

With a great bit of reluctance, I turned away from the sailor to get on my feet. He was able to respond quicker than I could stand, though, and in a moment I felt a sharp pain in my back and a force that brought me prone.

I purposely waited a fraction of a moment before I flipped over, hoping that I would throw off his aim. That I did, but he still made contact. My shoulder was still much more preferred than my head.

My hands had the urge to reach for the revolver at the small of my back, but I knew that if I did not use all the energy I had at evading, my skull would be split open like a hen’s egg.

The pain in the back of my head was already catching up to me, and I could see a trail of black liquid glistening against the ship’s lights. I was lightheaded, but I had no option but to save the injury inspection for a later date.

The sailor looked furious as he loomed over me, his body convulsing in rage. He dropped his pipe and unexpectedly pounced me. He was right on top of me, and I had no strength to keep him away.

His hands moved to my throat, and mine instinctively moved to his. My windpipe clamped shut as the familiar sense of suffocation flowed through me.

I realized my strength was nothing compared to his, and there was no way I could feasibly move his hands. Instead, I began to claw at his face. My thumbs moved to his eyes, looking to dig in, although I found nothing as his grip grew continually tighter.

It was like being stuck underwater all over again, except instead of a slow, creeping, deprivation, it was being actively squeezed out of me. My hands were not inflicting any significant pain to him, especially with how consumed by the drugs he was. A very unfortunate side effect to our timing.

Defending myself was hopeless, I decided. The only thing I could do at that point was squirm and make as many sounds as possible in hopes of catching Bradley or Price’s attention.

My vision began to fade as the drunken sailor let out a frothy smile, letting his overabundance of drool drip down in strings. My face was hot with stagnating blood as I began to lose control of my appendages.

A deep marching beat drummed out in my chest as my heart fluttered. It felt like I was weightless as I heard a different thumping rhythm than my own heart.

Price stomped against the deck as he charged at the sailor, tackling him and relinquishing me from his chokehold.

Bradley ran to me as Price furiously and repeatedly stabbed the sailor with the same knife that almost killed him. Whatever happened in their fight with the second sailor, it seemed to be a success.

I caught my breath while Price dealt with the drugged man. He did not hesitate to throw the corpse off the side of the boat.

Once I regained my sense of thought, a surge of emotions ran through me. Disgust at the things we had done. Shame at how uselessly I defended myself. And guilt at not assisting the others.

Bradley was going on some long tangent on whether I was all right, but I did not have the energy to respond. Price looked through the wagon, taking count of the crates. I could not decide if his decisions were idiotic or our only choice, but in the end, it had worked.

I felt dizzy, and my hair felt wet with blood. Price and Bradley worked on getting the ships to shore while I focused on staying awake.

They raised the anchors and tried pushing them apart. My eyes became heavy at the time they finally separated the two ships. Price ushered me onto his since it was the least damaged. The other ship was surely sinking, but not at a rate that would keep it from getting to land first. I went inside the cabin and sat next to the boiler, which kept me safe from the February cold.

My eyes became even heavier, and the world became distant… Surely resting them for just a moment would not hurt… Besides, we succeeded. We had gotten everything we needed.

Things can finally go back to normal… I thought to myself as I drifted to sleep...