How a boat the size of the ship she had been kidnapped onto could rock as much as it did was beyond Shalina’s comprehension, but rock it did, ceaselessly.
Any sane captain would have made port the moment they saw a storm of this magnitude on the horizon, but Shalina had long ago given up any pretense of believing the captain to be sane. Quite the opposite. But then again he was English, a people not known for their being of balanced or rational disposition.
She didn’t dare confront the captain again or talk to one of the officers, but according to those of the sailors who would speak to her, sailing straight into the biggest storm he could find was something the captain did regularly, and this wasn’t something unusual for English captains.
Another wave crashed over the deck and washed Shalina off her feet and back to where she started from. She scrambled to her feet and cursed. No way she could reach the bowsprit in this weather. She’d just pee where she stood. Not that it would make a tiniest bit of a difference anyway...