An underwater ginger quietly followed the stream of his bubbles as they led him to the surface. His face appeared above the water. All was quiet, except for the rock of ships, the sound of water splashing against their hulls and the little creaks made by oars of patrolling rowboats.
He really didn’t know where to go from here: whether to land, or to a boat. Thankfully, that problem was answered for him as the oar of a small rowboat gracefully knocked him on the head.
“Crikey!!! Watch yourself, mate!” Adam shouted with an angry attempt at a British accent. But, as two men suddenly hauled him aboard, he realized that the paddle hitting him on the head was intentional.
“Stay quiet, until we take you aboard, rebel scum. Do your talkin’ to an officer.”
“Oi! Whaya want from may??” The angry flustered redhead shouted.
“Stay that mouth o’ yours, before I take it off meself!!!” The angry British red-coated man shouted back.
“Oh.” Adam said. Huh. Redcoated British soldiers in Boston Bay? Maybe this’ll be more fun than I expected.
Once they got on board the ship, Adam was told to keep quiet and follow the nice man in the red jacket. He took time to get to know a bit of the ship’s layout and also analyze the sailors. He was pushed into a room where a desk was set up and a tired-looking officer was sitting.
“All right, American scum, tell us what exactly you were doing in the frigid waters of Boston tonight.” Adam was sitting in a chair, two soldiers by his side, in front of a desk with an angry First Lieutenant in front of him.
He decided to start off a little sarcastic. “The water’s warm, hadn’t you noticed? Maybe you should take a little dip yourself to find out. In any case, it would cool that hot head of…”
A fist slammed against the desk, and Adam took the hint.
“You’re trying to play games, and I know, young men like you love to play games. But enough is enough. I should throw you in the brig right now for simply being in close proximity to our ships, but I won’t do that if you just tell me why you were there.”
The American scum might have known when to take a hint, but he wasn’t the wisest at responses in general, unless those responses were the truth. So, he decided to try and tell the truth just to see how far he’d get.
“Of course, sir. Happy to oblige.” He cleared his throat.
After a few minutes of sass, sarcasm, and a small amount of appreciable English wit, the lieutenant looked up at one of his guards. “We’ll get nothing out of this one. Throw him in the brig.”
Adam was led down the steps to the bottommost deck. Once the door to the brig snapped shut, he found himself sitting on a stool right in the middle of a stupid little cell surrounded by iron bars with a door and a small 18th century lock. He grabbed his locksmith kit from his pocket and picked away at the door. After a minute or so of clicking, the tumblers of the lock fell into place and the door swung open with a loud creaking noise. Adam thought, hey, why not. He darted to the bottom of the stairs and slowly opened the trap door leading to the deck above his current position. Huh, I was lucky to get picked up by this man o’ war, I suppose. It doesn’t seem to have any other prisoners.
“Oi, who’s in that door? Come on out!” a voice boomed from behind him. Adam jumped out, juked the sailor, and continued up to the next decks. The sailor was shocked, but after dropping his mug, decided he’d better go chase the blighter down.
Adam managed to slide, slip, and otherwise fall to the top deck of the ship, although an angry pile of sailors swarmed behind him, he reached the sides of the ship unhurt. With the cry of “AMERICA!!!” he launched himself off the deck into the waters below.
Photo credit: https://militarymaps.rct.uk/american-war-of-independence-1775-83/battle-of-cape-st-vincent-1780-admiral-s-r