Extract: SANDS OF TIME by Rue Willow

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An extract from Rue Willow’s time-traversing, romance epic, this story draws two lovers together throughout the ages, building connections behind a veil of fate and mystery. What secrets are waiting to be uncovered? When will the sands of time run out?

Chapter One

February 1742

The cold, heavy ankle chains linking me to the rest of the crew as we dragged ourselves slowly forward was the only thing that allowed me any form of connection to Rigby now. His head was bowed low. His wet brown hair fell in front of his face as he trudged forward ahead of me. Onwards along the muddy path between the knurled hornbeam trees, the bitterly cold wind seeped through our worn clothes, making us recoil further into ourselves.

I wished I could reach forward through the dimness of the approaching night and wrap my arms around his waist, taking comfort in each other as we whispered words of longing while I pulled him free of this shadowy place. But the sound of our metal confinements clinking around our ankles and the clunking around our wrists, as we attempted to rub the sores forming from the heavy links, was all we could hear. It overtook the serene sound of the waves beating against the rocks within the nearby cove. I wished we could be allowed just a moment. Just one brief moment of stillness to listen to the sound calling to us over the treetops. To be still long enough to hear if an owl hooted nearby and listen to the sound of the leaves whispering to themselves as the wind brushed through them.

The British Navy wearing their black, white and gold long-jacketed uniform with single-breasted skirted garments lined the pathway. Pointing their sea service pistols at us made it evident that they would not allow us a moment before the inevitable. Some gripped their large cocked hats as the inbound ocean gale threatened to lift them from their low ponytailed hair. Their icy and unfeeling eyes never drifted from us as they surveyed their rivals. They marched us on like the Pied Piper luring away the rats. But instead of taking us to the sea like in the story, where we belonged, they were driving us ashore.

The events that had spilled out across the morning that had risen as every other day had happened so quickly. Only now I feel my mind drifting easily within the dejected line back to the past few hours, reliving the chaos and wondering how we had all managed to end up here. How we had become overpowered and how our ship, our sloop ‘The Cursed King’ had been sunk by their vessels that surrounded us on the edge of the jagged coastline.

Rigby was my first thought as I had been dragged from the sloshing cold water by my short blue jacket. Angry British men had grabbed fist full of my long soaked black hair as they hauled me onto their small white jolly before cuffing me roughly. Then holding a pistol to my head they shouted threatening words at me before swiftly rowing me back to their towering oak two-decker warship. Their captain, with his large bob wig major, stood tall and smug as he watched on from the quarterdeck. The giant sails flapped irritably behind him while the rest of my crew were dragged onto other jollies from the thrashing sea. I followed his line of view. Held my breath as I watched the scene unfolding before me within the grey sea that merged with the overcast sky overhead.

The mast of ‘The Cursed King’ was the only part of the ship that could still be seen. It sank slowly within the haunted waves like a sea monster that had its slimy emerald tentacles wrapped around its pole. Its suckers cemented to the wood as it dragged it down into the infinite darkness of its marine cave. As the tip of the mast disappeared under the convulsing surface of the sea, the debris of our protection and our belongings were the only things that proved the ship once existed. It made its way to the bottom of the sea to lay like a lost carcass with the other overcome vessels. The only life that would live on within the cabins of the ship now were the fishes that darted within the darkness. It would lay like a decaying shell that once glided above the underwater world on the waves above. The debris floated precariously on the surface, bobbing up and down with the waves as they drifted away and out of reach just like how our lives were. I had watched Rigby fight against the Navy men pointlessly but as a pistol pointed at his head, he eased his struggle. Instead, he had stopped and searched the waters for me, his expression becoming frantic. It was clear he didn’t fear the enemy or even death itself, but what he did fear was losing me. Unspoken words sailed effortlessly across the salty sea air to each other as he found my eyes. We both knew.

Now, as we reached our final destination and entered a grassy clearing within the trees our heads finally lifted. We looked up at the dark building that stood high and eerie ahead of us. I was surprised to see it was in fact a church, but it seemed to have been overtaken by the solitude of the landscape around it. Crisp dead ivy clung to the stones of its walls and twisted brambles threatened to engulf the building as it crept hungrily up the lancet windows and door. The tall tower at the front of the church rose above the branches of the trees brushing against it. And there hung a large silver bell that could be seen glinting within the louvre windows that edged the tower. It was now lonely but still a godly place, I would assume, although it didn’t seemingly resemble a place of worship. It looked forgotten. Lost in the shade of the trees on the edge of the sea with no churchgoers living nearby to congregate and bring life back into it. No lights shone from inside the stained glass windows, lighting up the colourful designs and no heavenly music welcoming us to the beyond drifted from inside.

As I scanned the churchyard, I saw no lines of empty graves with wooden crosses awaiting us. This only made my eyes drift further out, further into the darkness of the shadowy forest. Within my sluggish steps, I quickly noticed a large hole that looked to be freshly dug further out within the shadows of the surrounding forest. It was clear what it was. It was our grave, big enough for our entire crew. It lay with no cross. No godly presence. No names. Nothing that would signify the story of our lives or that we once lived above the bottomless earth when the hole would be refilled. All of our families had passed from this world long ago, so none of us would even survive in the memories of others. Nothing would prove that we once existed.

We were far from the well-known execution dock on the bank of the river Thames that was a preferred execution spot by the English forces. Instead, they had to make do. So, unlike most pirates that were killed, we didn’t get the view of the Tower of London in the distance as the world went dark for us. We didn’t get a last glimpse of ships and small fisherman boats drifting past. Nor did we see the angelic swans floating by as they lunged their heads into the water to search for tiny silverfish. Instead, we only saw the towering leafless trees. Their long branches swayed invitingly towards us like they were coaxing me to run within them. Back to the angry sea that had always sung to me with promises of adventure within the ocean ever since I was a child.

The guns pointed at our heads directed us with swift movements up towards the wooden gallows that stood in front of the tall timber church doors. There to the side, with the same triumphant expression as earlier stood the navy captain. He gave orders with the swing of his pistol to his navy men while checking his pocket watch from time to time as if he were bored. He watched on as we lined up, ready to ascend the stairs to the line of nooses that hung from the crossbeams.

The childlike part of my mind tried to creep in, possibly to attempt to comfort me. She reminded me of the stories I would be told as a child, stories of pirate adventures and how they would somehow always get away from the danger. Always find victory. Maybe my father told me them because he wanted to shield me from the truth. The truth is that the four years I had spent sailing the sea as a pirate was longer than most would have. If I didn’t die of infection, malnutrition, disease or blood poisoning on-board then I’d be killed on land or sea by those who hated us most.

This was the moment in those stories where somehow, someone or something would come and break us from the chains. Helping us to battle free and steal the navy boat, sailing back out to sea. But now as I watched the executioner prepare in front of his audience, I knew my childhood mind was fading away, dying along with the memories of the stories. And now at this point, I wondered when my life would flash before my eyes and what it would actually be like.

“Forward Pirate,” shouted one of the men, waving his pistol at Rigby while he had been looking behind at me with an expression of longing and anguish. I knew my eyes reflected his before he staggered forward, the chains from the crew member ahead of him almost dragging him down to the floor. Each heavy step up the steps to the gallows echoed like beating drums within the clearing like it was counting down the seconds to the ending of our story.

A part of me half expected the natural human reaction of death approaching to turn the crew into screaming children. I waited to hear wails, begs, pleas and feel the chains tense as men and women fought to free themselves in a panic. But as we stood watching the view of the trembling trees through the noose that dangled in front of our eyes, there was finally silence. No one panicked. We all stood motionless and numb. That might be because we knew begging for our lives would be pointless, or perhaps we simply had been silenced by fear. The executioner gradually weaved between our lines, pulling the nooses over our heads one by one and tightening them harshly. The damp rope that hung around my neck like a final necklace gifted to me felt heavy as I twisted my neck around in it like a stray dog captured with rope. My heart pumped so loudly in my chest that I was sure the entire navy surrounding us could hear.

“Thieves of ‘The Cursed King’, you are sentenced to death by hanging for your lives of piracy.” Bellowed the Navy Captain. His words seemed to stir the crew a little like the devil was calling for them to come home to the underworld below. Some of their eyes darted around frantically while others scrunched their eyes firmly shut, surprisingly whispering prayers into the sacred ground below us.

But even within my fear, my eyes didn’t drift from Rigby’s. I outstretched my hands to him, wanting to not be apart from him even in death. As he did the same, I was flooded with memories. It wasn’t like how I expected my life to flash before my eyes. I didn’t see myself being held as a baby by my mother or see my life with my family unfold. I didn’t see the mistakes I had made over my life or the achievements. I didn’t see my family or friends or even the crew. I only saw one person, him.

Memories of only Rigby cascaded through my mind, showing me the first moment I saw him like that was when my life truly started. He hung casually from the shrouds of ‘The Cursed King’, pretending to scan the horizon but sneaking curious glances at me while I jumped eagerly aboard for the first time. His glances quickly turned into gazes from afar as he continued his sailing master duties. A smile sneaked its way onto his face as he caught me watching him just as inquisitively too.

After battling deadly storms together, following each other across land and sea, we surrendered to the attraction that lingered between us. He would playfully teach me how to sword fight as the moon high above us lit up the slippery deck beneath our feet. I would pretend like my father had never taught me how to fight as I’d grown up, happily playing my clueless role as I stole him away for more moments of closeness. We would practise with the crew watching on like we were dancing as we dodged and lunged and when I would fall down, he would hold out his hand to me. Pulling me back up we allowed our bodies to slam together with the force of his pull. We would laugh then; we didn’t care for the jolly teasing shouted by the older pirates as our tenderness for each other became apparent to them. He was never ashamed of his feelings for me. While hauling myself up onto the bow of the ship to get a better look at the dolphins diving over the waves, he would sometimes catch the other crew members watching me. Before long I would overhear him whispering to the others that I was his, to keep their hands off his lassie.

He would catch me as I stumbled near the gunwale, my drink sloshing around in the glass I grasped just like the sea sloshed against the ship below. I was so drunk from downing too much rum that he would pat my head as I whispered my secret desires about him, to him. He would whisper back to me, assuming I was too drunk to remember in the morning, but I always remembered. He would tell me how we’d one day have our own ship and how the two of us would sail off together. Murmuring about how we would drift all the way around the world and how he would marry me. Making me his forever as we found new lands across the ocean, looting ships and recruiting our own crew.

Many cloudless nights were spent watching the stars overhead together in the crow’s nest as the crew snored below. He would stand behind me, his hands gripping the wooden beams around us. Making sure I wouldn’t fall, his head hovered close to mine and his chest rested on my back. I could feel his breath on my ear as he told me about the stars, and how he would name one after me.

Whenever we would ambush a passing vessel that attempted to be taken far from us by the wind, he would push his way aboard without ever stepping far from me. His grin would widen as I hauled the cargo into my arms and made back for ‘The Cursed King’, his sword flying as he protected me from the battle that surrounded us.

At night when I tried to sleep, my mind would amble to thoughts of whether it was possible to be a good pirate. He would break through my questioning mind after a bad ransom attack. He would whisper to me that the world and its unfair ways are what dragged ordinary people like us to become pirates. Just to simply survive for as long as we could in this life. He always made any worry, any fear wash away with the tide.

Occasionally when the crew would ransack local coastal towns, he would sneak away with me. Leading me by the hand from reality and would spend the little time we had on a quiet beige sandy beach where he would lay in the shingles with me, holding me to him tightly. Gentle whispers of love would be shared between us while our fingers intertwined before a few moments later he would be dragging me up spiritedly. Stripping off his clothes until he wore only his briefs, he would skip into the shallows. Jumping over the trotting blue waves, he beckoned me with a curling finger to join him. And of course, I did. As I copied him, stripping off my clothes, he gawped over my sun-kissed skin like he was hypnotised. But his expression quickly transformed into laughter as my eagerly running steps into the sea splashed him. He splashed me back and our playful advances ended with us laying on our backs again, the water spilling over our skin as we looked up at the fluffy clouds that passed by as we floated in the ocean. When we left the shallows and as the sun dried us he would collect pretty shells. Then, when we returned to the boat, he would appear later that evening with a necklace he had crafted from the shells. Gently he would place it over my head, pulling my hair free from under it and would declare how beautiful I am as he spun me around to face him.

But now, as I faced the love of my life with a noose around his neck, tears spilled from my eyes. It filled my open mouth with the taste of the sea. I could see the ocean lapping in his blue eyes as his love for me pooled into his pupils. They dilated with aching longing. As we strained our hands to reach further towards each other, our fingers darted around in the dimness. Desperate to edge closer. Desperate to touch. Desperate to connect in our final moment we called out to each other.

“I love you, Arcelia.”

“I love you, Rigby.”

As the executioner pulled the leaver and our outstretched hands fell down all I thought of was my eternal love for him as I heard a church bell chime.

Sands of Time is available now in paperback.