Journey from Paradise

Part I - Island Holiday

The view that she’d get when the passenger jet
made a bank for its final approach
was a fine sight to see even though it would be
through a small plastic portal in coach.

The isle – but a strand, was surrounded by sand
and encased in a halo of green
that feathered to blue with the translucent-hue
of an ocean so clear and pristine.

She held on to Kent as they made their descent
to a runway just feet from the shore,
but the squeeze she’d invest was symbolic at best –
just a neighbor and not a bit more.

She was here for the fun and some time in the sun,
where she hoped to go home with a tan –
the suit that she packed was designed to attract,
so the last thing she’d need was a man.

It was all very new since her travels were few,
was the first time she’d been on a plane –
but she’d gotten a pass to go south with her class
who attended a school in Fort Wayne.

Once on the ground, they would all gather ‘round
to review all the chaperones’ rules –
which were there to insure they’d be safe and secure
from the traps for American fools.

Together, they’d dwell at a beachfront hotel
that was only a few miles from town –
where a colorful bus that was driven by Gus
would be making its hourly rounds.

It was always at night – when the temp was just right,
that the town was the right place to be
for the kids from the states who were looking for dates –
and a little romance by the sea.

Both she and a friend found a bar to attend
at a spot that the tourists all knew –
where most of the isle would drop by for a while
for a dance and a bottle of brew.

The music was loud and the Saturday crowd
was rambunctious as one would expect –
and some hot local studs in Caribbean duds
would be seeking a chance to connect.

They drank to excess as the night would progress,
and a little bit out of control –
they attracted the eyes of some much older guys
who invited them both for a stroll.

She couldn’t believe that her friend chose to leave,
that she left her to be on her own –
the adventurous-gal who’d befriended a pal
that her parents would never condone.

Suave and demure, he suggested a tour,
so she jumped in the seat of his car –
and the next thing she knew, in the back would be two
of his friends who were there at the bar.

They took a short ride – just to witness the tide
at a cove, both secluded and dark
where he spoke to the two in a tongue that was new,
as he looked for a good place to park.

He seemed a bit drunk as he reached in the trunk –
then a blanket appeared in his hand
and a little ways down, it was spread on the ground
so they wouldn’t be covered in sand.

He built a small fire with the sticks he’d acquire
so it wasn’t as dark as before –
but the light that it threw on the eyes of the few,
made it clear – they were hoping to score.

Events would occur that were more like a blur
and she wasn’t real sure how they went,
but the sex she’d recall had been more like a brawl –
and was certainly lacking consent.

If the act that she’d done was confined to just one,
she could neither confirm nor deny –
and it might even be – she’d been done by all three,
she was scared and believed she would die.

The sound would appear of a boat drawing near,
then a hull was heard scraping the beach,
and the voice of a man who was now on dry land
would be giving the others a speech.

From the words that she’d hear, it was perfectly clear
that the men were discussing a trade,
then he lifted her skirt with a look that was curt –
and agreed on a price to be paid.

They bound her with chord, then they put her aboard
and shoved off with some help from the three,
then he let out a shout as he brought her about –
and the two of them sailed out to sea.

Part II - The Broker

Tied to a seat by her hands and her feet,
she could still see the lights on the shore,
but they faded to gray as they motored away –
‘till they couldn’t be seen any more.

The small open boat seemed so lost and remote
as it raced towards infinite blue –
there was nothing in sight but the dark of the night
and no obvious path to pursue.

They had to contend with the waves and the wind
that would toss the small vessel about –
she was shaken and pale as she clung to the rail,
heading straight to a future in doubt.

The man at the wheel who had brokered the deal,
hadn’t uttered so much as a word,
but he did seem to know where he wanted to go –
and his silence was really preferred.

Acting discreet – with a glancing critique,
she could see he was stocky and tall –
his skin was well-done from a life in the sun,
and his head was both shiny and bald.

His clothes were all wet from the spray and the sweat,
there were stains in the pits of his shirt –
his body would reek – hadn’t bathed for a week
and his nails were impacted with dirt.

A scar would appear from his cheek to his ear
and another – the length of his arm,
a faded tattoo in a pale shade of blue
and a necklace with some kind of charm.

The waves and the wind had begun to descend
and the sea would repeal its abuse –
so he throttled it back and he opened a sack
with a sandwich and bottle of juice.

He pulled out some fruit, then he reached in his boot
for a blade that was tucked out of sight,
and he whacked off the top with a forcible-chop –
then he offered to hand her a bite.

She feared for her life when he brandished the knife,
but she begged him to please cut her free –
so he severed the rope in exchange for a grope,
moving slow – from her thigh to her knee.

She rose from her seat and pretended to greet
with a smile that would mask her disdain
as she turned on the charm to avoid being harmed
by a demon so vile and profane.

The angst that she felt as he loosened his belt
and demanded she take off her clothes,
could only be matched by the plan that she hatched
as she slowly began to expose.

With only one chance to avoid his romance,
she implanted her foot in his crotch –
when he fell on his back from her painful attack,
his aggression was lowered a notch.

She knew that she’d pay when his pain went away,
and there wasn’t but one place to flee –
since she’d rather be dead than be forcefully-bred,
she would cast herself into the sea.

Her fear made her brave as she slapped every wave
that would carry her back to the keel,
then she took a deep breath as a prelude to death –
because living had lost its appeal.

Part III - Suicide

She counted to three – then she lifted the sea
to propel herself under a wave,
and down she would go – to the darkness below
on her way to a watery grave.

She hoped it would be like she’d seen on TV –
just a final expulsion of breath,
some pain to go through for a second or two,
then a peaceful transition to death.

But she just couldn’t bear to surrender the air
that she’d captured before her descent –
and the pain that would be from inhaling the sea
was more likely the deeper she went.

Her story would play for what seemed like a day,
though a second was all that it took –
a sprint through the world of a mid-western girl
who was on the last page of her book.

She’d gotten away, but the price that she’d pay
was about as extreme as could be –
and to add to her woe, just her captor would know
that her body was buried at sea.

Her lungs were on fire and the primal desire
to survive was diluting her cause –
and her penchant to prize a less painful demise
gave her plenty of reason to pause.

She chose to abort and attempt to resort
to a life as a captive at sea –
so upward she went with a rapid ascent
to contend with the powers that be.

She’d not circumvent any rescue attempt
that might happen if luck should prevail –
if a chance might debut to relinquish a clue
so that someone might follow their trail.

She broke through the foam and, so glad to be home,
would consume all the air she could hold –
and the sight of a man with a welcoming hand
would be there to resume his control.

He pulled her aboard and her bounds were restored
with no more than a slap to her face –
once tied and secure, their mysterious tour
would resume at a spirited pace.

He’d tied her up tight as a symbol of spite
and the pain that she felt was severe,
but her mind was more vexed as to what would be next –
since it wasn’t abundantly clear.

Tired from the heat and prolonged lack of sleep,
she accused him of losing his way
and he flashed a retort that was stony and short –
said “it’s better you watch what you say!”

He pointed ahead and her eyes would be lead
to a boat that was anchored at sea,
away from the pries of inquisitive eyes –
where it probably needed to be.

The closer they got – what began as a dot,
was in fact quite a sizable ship
that would lead her to feel it was part of the deal –
and most likely the end of their trip.

They pulled alongside where their boat would be tied
near a ladder that led to the deck –
then he told her to go, while he followed in tow
with his hand on the base of her neck.

He whistled a song as he pushed her along,
seeming happy his mission was done –
then he took her aboard to secure his reward
from a man who was sporting a gun.

Another appeared with a long scraggly beard
and was told to escort her below –
then a veil of despair seemed to drop from the air
as misfortune continued to grow.

He loosened a latch and he opened a hatch
to some stairs that would lead to the hold –
then he told her to lead and the two would proceed
past the odor of mildew and mold.

The lights on the way barely challenged the gray
with a slight incandescence of red
that would struggle to throw a discernible-glow
on the steps that she cautiously tread.

When they got to the floor, there was one final door
he would open and push to the side,
and the image revealed showed her fate had been sealed –
that it might have been best if she’d died.

Part IV - The Room

Her eyes quickly welled as she witnessed the hell
on the faces of daughters and wives –
their expressions of pain and a few with disdain
for the thieves who had stolen their lives.

Her hands were still tied when he shoved her inside,
and she stumbled and fell to the floor –
then the remnants of light quickly turned into night
as he closed and then bolted the door.

But a porthole or two passed a shadowy-hue
from the sun that was low in the sky –
though it wasn’t a lot, the amount that they got
was enough to enlighten the eye.

She was wrought with disgust as her eyes would adjust
to conditions no human should bear –
and a makeshift latrine that was openly-seen,
had a smell that pervaded the air.

With the room having cleared of the man with the beard,
the community started to stir –
and once they were sure that the room was secure,
their attention was focused on her.

They came to her aid, introductions were made
and they welcomed her into their brood
then they poured her a drink from a half-rusted sink –
said she’d have to wait longer for food.

Just two meals a day would be coming their way,
in the morning and later at night
when a fellow named Art came around with a cart –
to deliver the latest delight.

Yes, Arthur was kind, had a limited mind,
but he did everything that he could
and his sense of chagrin for the fix they were in –
made him say a lot more than he should.

He spoke a bit slow, but he seemed in the know,
spent a lot of his time on the bridge –
and he’d always bring news, with a couple of brews
that he took from the galley’s old fridge.

Since one of the men, who he claimed was his kin,
was in charge of the rest of the crew –
it would help to explain how he came to attain
all the dope he apparently knew.

The crew, mostly Dutch, were forbidden to touch
any women they had in their midst –
the rules were quite clear and the men would adhere –
or the Captain would really get pissed.

They would have to be clean and as close to pristine
as a woman could possibly be –
so they had to concede any products they’d need
to stay fresh while they traveled the sea.

But the shower they had was deplorably-sad
and the water was smelly and cold –
the curtain-less stall was obtrusive and small
and the fixtures were rusty and old.

They’d each get a towel that was ragged and foul,
bars of soap and shampoo for their hair –
and they’d all do their best – for the sake of the rest,
to maintain the best possible air.

Once in a while, they’d be marched single-file
on a less than laborious trek
for a chance to get out and meander about –
but they still wouldn’t let them on deck.

They couldn’t afford for the captives on board
to be seen by a wandering eye –
they would keep them below so that no one would know
that their mission was really a lie.

The ship’s manifest was designed to suggest
that the task of the ship and her crew
was to offer a price for Caribbean spice –
and that wasn’t entirely untrue.

Success would be based on their not being chased,
so commission was part of their cost –
a payment of grease so the local police
would declare that the women were “lost”.

The searches they waged would be carefully staged
so a trail wouldn’t ever be found –
they’d blame it on sharks, on adventurous larks,
or suggest that they probably drowned.

As long as they stayed in proverbial shade
and were never to come into port –
the crew would be blessed with avoiding arrest,
let alone being taken to court.

It seemed like a week since she’d had any sleep,
so she found her a spot on the floor –
on a pallet they built from a piece of a quilt
that would hold at least three – maybe four.

But the rumble that’s made when an anchor is weighed
would come thundering down to the room,
then the engines would start and the ship would depart –
but to where – one could only assume.

Part V – The Princess Marie

They’d been underway – maybe half of a day,
when a few in the group became sick
from the bob and the sway, as the ship made its way
through a climate so humid and thick.

Then more became ill when the vomit would spill
and the odor would levy its toll
since they couldn’t stay clean with a single latrine –
and they hadn’t a bag or a bowl.

The anguish and ire from conditions so dire,
had a few of them screaming for aid
that they couldn’t ignore – so they opened the door
to contend with the ruckus they made.

A man from up top brought a bucket and mop,
and he told them to clean up their mess –
then a doc would appear with some medical gear
and some pills that would ease their distress.

A girl named Annette, who was covered with sweat,
didn’t look like she’d last for the day –
she was sick for so long that her fluids were gone,
so they came and they whisked her away.

The pills took effect and the room that they’d wrecked
was much worse than its earlier state,
so the scrubbing went on ‘till the vomit was gone –
but the odor refused to abate.

They begged for reprieve and the crew let them leave
for a coveted stroll on the deck –
a warranted move that the captain approved
and a gesture they didn’t expect.

They stepped into light and the depth of their plight
would diminish, if just for a spell –
with a chance to repair via sun and fresh air
in exchange for that terrible smell.

A part of the crew would remain in their view
to ensure that the group would behave –
it was anyone’s guess as to what might egress
from the mind of a desperate slave.

Arthur was there with his buddy Pierre
who’d retired from the Merchant Marines,
a fellow named Yates who grew up in the States
and a boy that was still in his teens.

A tour for the group would consist of a loop
that they’d take from the bow to the stern,
and the lack of décor would be far from a bore –
there were interesting things they would learn.

Some words on the hull that were faded and dull,
said her name was the Princess Marie –
and her state of repair was enough to declare
that she’d spent a few decades at sea.

She was clearly designed with conveyance in mind
and was never intended to thresh,
but they’d broken the rules with additional tools
that you need when you’re trafficking flesh.

The ship by and large, looked a lot like a barge
with some barrels they carried as freight –
but the arms they might need for their trip to succeed,
had been neatly concealed in a crate.

Her innocence wreaked – she was never critiqued,
not a soul was compelled to intrude,
but the crew never feared that they’d be commandeered –
they were more than prepared for a feud.

The fact that the crew, save for one – maybe two,
had experience fighting a war,
lent a pretty good bet that if faced with a threat,
they were likely the ones who would score.

The ladies’ affair in the sun and fresh air
would eventually come to an end,
when the whistle would blow – telling all “time to go”
and the group would be forced to descend.

Upon their return, they were happy to learn
new appointments adorned their abode,
but the fact still remained – they were being detained –
and that trumped any perks they bestowed.

They’d furnished a fan and a weathered divan
that could also be used as a bed –
some blankets would add to the ones that they had
and a light was installed overhead.

Though thanks were conveyed for enhancements they made,
it was still nothing more than a cell,
but they’d have to contain their inherent disdain –
it would do them no good to rebel.

They all would agree – while the ship was at sea,
it was best that they follow the rules
and they might just get by if they chose to comply –
to the traffickers – they were the jewels.

The echoing ring of the door being pinged
would announce it was time for their meal,
but they noticed that Art wasn’t pushing his cart,
for instead – he had news to reveal.

A white cotton sack that was slung on his back
was presented with words of regret –
when the strings were untied, they would see that inside
were the clothes that were worn by Annette.

Part VI – The Voyage

The ship wasn’t fast, so their journey would last
for what seemed like a couple of years –
and the bond that would bloom ‘tween the girls in the room,
helped them cope with their doubts and their fears.

Their daily routine left no time to convene,
since they each had a task to perform,
but it gave them the clout to get out and about –
a reprieve from their shadowy dorm.

They’d gather at night just to ponder their plight,
to construct an acceptable end –
to imagine a tale where their freedom prevailed,
though unlikely – it helped to pretend.

In week number three of their voyage at sea –
they would sail near a forested shore
and the fact that the beach would be right within reach
said a visit was likely in store.

They came to a stop and the anchor was dropped
where the ocean was suitably deep –
away from the shake where the waves tend to break,
where the swells would be shallow – not steep.

The girls could construe from their limited view,
that a mission was being prepared –
that a team was equipped to depart from the ship,
but the details were not being shared.

The crew – once afloat in a small powered boat,
headed out on a course for the land –
but the few that were missed – who were not on the list,
meant the ship wasn’t heavily manned.

Arthur, the cook and a man called Chinook
were the only ones left on the deck –
just enough to provide for the captives inside
and to keep them securely in check.

Our girl in the clan had concocted a plan
to escape when the timing was right,
and it seemed pretty clear that the moment was near –
it would have to be later that night.

Feeling exempt from her prior attempt,
when she cast herself into the brine,
there was no land in sight, nor the cover of night –
it was less than the perfect design.

But the one she’d congealed would at last be revealed –
every detail required for the coup,
she commenced to disperse every action and verse,
so that everyone knew what to do.

When she took to the floor, there were comments galore,
but the plan failed to garner appeal –
all the rest were too scared from the fear they’d be snared
in conditions far less than ideal.

The one thing she’d ask – that to aid in the task,
they would stand there and not interfere –
if the plan should succeed, she’d ensure they were freed,
and they knew she was more than sincere.

The mood in the room would transition from doom
to the thought that a young tender slave
might accomplish her goal with the help of a soul
that was both – a bit reckless and brave.

Part VII – The Escape

Her plan would go live after Arthur arrived
to deliver their late-evening meal –
so the stage had been set to obscure any threat
and disguise any pending ordeal.

Like all nights before, Arthur knocked on the door
and proceeded to enter the room –
he was proud of his cart – like a wheeled work of art,
with more food than the girls could consume.

A few would distract, while a bag would be packed
with provisions to last her a while,
then she made her escape while the door was agape –
leaving only a tear and a smile.

She ran through the ship, trying hard not to trip –
being sure not to render a sound,
while the path she’d select took her straight to the deck
where the danger would likely be found.

Her effort was strained by the hatch that remained,
as she fought to suppress any squeal –
then she’d silently jog like a ghost in a fog,
with her feet barely touching the steel.

She passed by a boat and extracted a float
that would help her escape from her foe –
then she grabbed the first rung of the ladder that hung
from the deck to the water below.

She began her descent and the further she went,
she was certain she’d made the right call –
but her thoughts made her slow and with ten feet to go,
she would slip from the ladder and fall.

The ocean was cold and she failed to keep hold
of the bag with her needed supplies –
but for now, she just prayed that the splash she had made
didn’t capture her enemy’s eyes.

She swam for a beach that was just out of reach,
but she knew if she kept up the fight,
that she’d make it to shore in an hour or more –
while she still had the cover of night.

Her thoughts of the slaves helped her master the waves,
‘till her tummy was scraping the sand –
and she lay there until she could muster the will
to go on with her mission as planned.

She looked out to see where the tanker would be,
and the knowledge that the others would pay –
was the source of the drive that she’d need to survive
and ensure that they’d all be okay.

Part VIII – The Tavern

It was right after eight when the Captain and mates
headed out from the Princess Marie
to a place on the shore where they’d traded before –
with a product they needed to see.

Their passage was tough on an ocean as rough
as it was on that hot afternoon –
but the waves turned to glass as the complement passed
through the mouth of a hidden lagoon.

The water – so sheer, was both shallow and clear,
with a bottom of sugary sand –
when he turned off the gas, their momentum would last
‘till their bow was just feet from the land.

They came to a stop at the side of a dock
that was partially covered with roots –
with the mangroves so thick – just to walk was a trick,
irregardless of sandals or boots.

The forest was dense and the bugs were intense,
as they trekked to the light up ahead,
through the smell of cigar – to what looked like a bar
where the locals were serviced and fed.

They could easily tell it was hidden quite well,
at the end of a rough gravel road –
with Pierre as their guide, they all moseyed inside
where the drugs and the alcohol flowed.

Like a tavern of sorts, the proprietor – Bortz,
chose to live in his own little world –
though he trafficked some booze, that was merely a ruse –
he was actually trafficking girls.

A dark little shack that was way in the back,
was the place where he harbored his prey –
be it children on tour, or the youth of the poor,
he would trade them for minimal pay.

The Captain and Nash, who was holding the cash,
left the bar and accompanied Bortz
to a child in his care, who was tied to a chair –
in a halter and tight pair of shorts.

Was a cute little fox with her long curly locks,
and her eyes were the color of ice –
being youthful and lean, it was easy to glean
that she’d bring a respectable price.

They finished their drinks and their Internet links
and prepared to return to the ship –
and away they would go with their bounty in tow
to embark on their arduous trip.

It was right after dawn and the dark mostly gone
when they sailed from the cove to the sea
to surrender their guest for some much needed rest
when they got to the Princess Marie.

But they’d soon get some news that would fail to amuse,
that they wouldn’t be sleeping that day –
there was pending suspense and a search would commence
for the one who had gotten away.


Part IX – Retribution

When Art left the room, he had only assumed
that the women were where they should be –
but the sun would be high in the late-morning sky
when they knew one had opted to flee.

The Captain was pissed when he learned she was missed
and a search proved she wasn’t on-board –
but he couldn’t ignore that a captive ashore
was a risk he could hardly afford.

He belted commands at a team of his hands
to embark on a search of the bay –
if a clue wasn’t found - they’d move on to the ground
and return her that very same day.

He couldn’t believe that they chose to deceive,
after all of the gifts he’d bestowed –
that they’d acted this way and had failed to repay
the respect that he felt he was owed.

He though it was best that he challenge the rest
with a message they’d never forget –
with an act so severe, they’d be riddled with fear
and ensure that his orders were met.

He went down below and the tension would grow
when he herded them all to the deck –
they hoped they’d be spared for the guilt that they shared,
as they made the disquieting trek.

He assembled the clutch so their shoulders would touch
and they’d see the disgust in his eyes –
and the thanks that they’d thrown for the mercy he’d shown,
was beginning to turn to despise.

He checked every face, then he singled out Grace,
being older than all of the rest –
said he’d only kill one for the damage they’d done
and he shot the girl twice in the chest.

He showed no remorse when the subsequent force
of his bullets had ended her life,
she was nothing to dwell, just a product to sell –
not a mother, a daughter or wife.

The sight would appall as the teardrops would fall
on an angel reduced to a slave –
and they all stood aghast as her body was cast
to the depths of a watery grave.

Their sense of regret as her pale silhouette
was engulfed by the darkest of gray,
would be matched with the hope that their sister could cope
with the men who were headed her way.

Part X – The Fugitive

She thought it was best she embark on her quest
through the woods and away from the shore –
and her steps in the sand – she’d erase with her hand,
just to buy her a few hours more.

She knew she’d be sought, so to skirt being caught,
she would look for a road or a trail –
while the rocks and the heat on the soles of her feet
brought the fear that her mission might fail.

She came to a pass that was covered with grass
and appeared to be recently used,
while the spongy motif brought some needed relief –
she was hopelessly lost and confused.

She thought it was best that she stop for a rest –
a reprieve from exhaustion and pain,
but her thoughts took a trip to that room on the ship
and the fate of the girls who remained.

It was all up to her – she would have to confer
with the staff of the local police –
and to tell what she knew of the ship and her crew,
that would help them secure their release.

The light of the day had now faded away,
leaving only the sounds of the night –
she would have to resume by the glow of the moon
and contend with her limited sight.

She hadn’t gone far when the sound of a car
and its lights would be rounding the bend –
the first thing she thought – was she’d either been caught
or her nightmare was nearing the end.

An elderly man in his old rusty van
saw her walking and pulled alongside,
he rolled down the glass and he looked at the lass –
then he offered to give her a ride.

His aged design made him seem so benign,
his demeanor was gentle and mild –
her fear would adjourn with his look of concern
and the gleam in his eyes as he smiled.

She jumped from her feet to the passenger seat
and confirmed she was traveling alone,
then he wanted to know where she wanted to go –
“the police and the use of a phone”.

He said his chalet would be right on their way,
just a few hundred yards up ahead –
then their trip would commence to a white picket fence
that surrounded a nice little spread.

On the ride, she’d lament of the time that she’d spent
as a slave on the Princess Marie –
of the girls in the hold who were caught to be sold,
and her mission to set them all free.

He drove through the gate and he asked her to wait
while he went to check in with his spouse,
and she watched the old man as he walked from the van
to the porch at the front of his house.

He reached for his key, but instead let it be,
when he noticed the half-open door –
and he scramble inside to discover his bride,
who was laying there dead on the floor.

He broke into tears as the last fifty years
of a marriage would flash through his mind –
it was clear she’d been killed by the blood that was spilled,
and appeared to be shot from behind.

She was getting concerned that he hadn’t returned
and the angst was just too much to bear,
but the trouble began when she jumped from the van –
and would come face to face with Pierre.

She started to run, but he brandished a gun
and the shots that he fired at the sky
said her chances were naught she’d avoid being caught –
it was best that she not even try.

She’d not say a word – then a shot that she heard
from the house made it perfectly clear
that the couple inside had assuredly died –
then the man called Chinook would appear.

The quaint little house would be heavily doused
with some fuel that they found in a can
and they wouldn’t be fazed as they set it ablaze –
then the three rode away in the van.

They drove to the shore where a boat would be moored
and they traded the land for the sea,
then the trio took flight through the dark of the night –
and returned to the Princes Marie.

Part XI – The Return

When she got to the ship, she discovered her trip
was the reason that Grace lost her life –
that her quest to be free cost the lives of all three,
if you counted the man and his wife.

That cloud of despair that once hung in the air
was much darker and laden with grief –
that a rescue attempt is the reason she went,
was a cause that brought little relief.

Feeling assured that the fate was secured
for both her and the rest of the clan,
it was time to concede that she’d never be freed –
or to speak to her family again.

When the other girls learned she was safely returned,
they assumed that her mission had failed –
and they ached to know more of her journey ashore,
but the crew had her separately jailed.

A much smaller room called ‘the closet of doom’
was the space they’d reserved for the worst –
the graffiti it bore from the tenants before
would confirm that she wasn’t the first.

Her ankles were chained to ensure she remained –
to prevent any chance of escape,
but she had no intent to repeat an event
that had left her in terrible shape.

She was hungry and dry when the Captain dropped by
to deliver a piece of his mind –
he was clearly annoyed that the men he employed
had to fetch her – which put them behind.

To placate his mood, he’d deprive her of food,
give her water just once every day –
keep her dirty and chained for the time that remained,
so she’d suffer the rest of the way.

He was heartless and cold when he said she’d be sold
to a bidder he’d dealt with before –
just a succulent feast for a sexual beast,
and a life she was sure to abhor.

The spirits would flow in the galley below
as they roasted Chinook and Pierre
who relieved their concern that the locals would learn
of their cargo and why they were there.

The Captain gave praise and the pledge of a raise
for a mission so expertly done –
they could visit a place without leaving a trace,
while they captured a girl on the run.

He wasn’t aware that Chinook and Pierre
had committed their murderous acts –
that a man and his spouse had been torched in their house
as a method to cover their tracks.

He was feeling relieved that the girl they retrieved
wasn’t able to damage his plan,
and the comfort he drew might have even been true –
if they’d only inspected her hand.

Part XII – The Clue

The neighbors awoke to the ominous smoke
that was billowing up through the trees –
then some folks from the town started coming around
with their curious minds to appease.

The first thing they’d see was the ash and debris,
and a chimney that stood on its own –
was a mariner’s bell and a quaint little well
that was crafted of timber and stone.

The fire was intense, but the white picket fence
had survived and would stand as before,
yet the home it encased, now a parcel of waste –
would reduce it to useless décor.

The clues would expound that the bodies they found
hadn’t died from the fire or the smoke –
they were murdered by hand, just as if it was planned
in the mind of some villainous bloke.

A cop on the scene was attempting to glean
what had happened the previous night –
but his query was stalled when a neighbor recalled
an old van that was nowhere in sight.

The van was found parked on the ground that was marked
with some tracks that would lead to the sea,
and the popular vote – that a small powered boat
was the way the assailants would flee.

The van was perused for additional clues
and they found a ring sized for a girl
from a school in Ft. Wayne that was etched with a name –
wasn’t much, but they’d give it a whirl.

They filed a report with the criminal court,
sent a note to the school in Ft. Wayne –
it was also released to the Chief of Police,
who would promise a thorough campaign.

Officer Klein was the cop he assigned,
and was already working the case –
he was very well known for the talent he’d shown,
so his team would be leading the chase.

Klein was the type that would stay up at night,
while the others were grasping at straws –
he’d review every fact, plus the ones that he lacked,
and assemble a probable cause.

They went door-to-door as they canvassed the shore
for a witness who’d noticed a ship –
but nothing was shone, ‘till a voice on the phone
would provide an anonymous tip.

Was a fisherman’s view of a captain and crew
that he’d seen just a few days before –
they were pensive and stiff, in a small powered skiff,
from a ship that was anchored offshore.

He saw on the side that a name was inscribed,
that was faded and real hard to see,
so he pulled out his glass when he happened to pass –
said her name was the Princess Marie.

Part XIII – The Pursuit

The message that came from the school in Ft. Wayne
said the mystery had to be solved,
that the query they sent sparked a major event –
now the Navy was getting involved.

The ring that they’d found from a girl presumed drowned,
made it clear there was more to this tale –
that a prior report from an island resort,
was a view that no longer prevailed.

A ship was dispatched with a chopper attached
to deliver them right to the stage –
with the crisis they faced, there was no time to waste
while they figured out how to engage.

The first on the scene – a reconnaissance team
that was trained in the science of war
was escorted by geeks with extraction techniques
that had proven successful before.

A tent that was wrought with computers they brought
would be linked with their Central Command –
and the facts they compiled would be sorted and filed,
so the leaders could see it firsthand.

They followed no rules, had spectacular tools,
with the clout to make anything go –
and the search for a girl would begin to unfurl
as intelligence started to flow.

An image they drew from a satellite’s view
helped them locate the vessel at sea –
and some others they took gave an intimate look
at the deck of the Princess Marie.

Details they learned from the data returned,
was that more than just one girl would show –
they could count at least four and perhaps even more
were detained in the spaces below.

They further surmised that the ship was disguised
as a freighter that lacked any might –
but a closer review of the cargo and crew
would suggest she could put up a fight.

The option they lacked was a frontal attack,
and forget an assault from the air –
they would have to be brisk to contend with the risk
of an enemy poised and aware.

The plan they’d devise would depend on surprise
to ensure the success of their team –
with the assets secured, they could all rest assured
the response would be swift and extreme.


Part XIV – Rescue

She’d come to full stop, so the boys in the shop
could make sure that her engines were clean
with a series of checks and review of her specs –
it was part of their standard routine.

The Captain and crew were on deck for a brew
when a submarine sprang from the sea –
she was stealthy and black, and designed to attack –
sitting next to the Princess Marie.

Despite being stunned and severely outgunned,
they decided to put up a fight –
they could set up a shield with the girls they revealed
and secure some additional bite.

They could kill one or two in the enemy’s view,
just to show them how far they would go
and they’d keep all the rest as the sailed to the west –
to a place that nobody would know.

The Captain withdrew with a part of his crew
for a harefooted trip to the hold –
then he opened the hatch to recover his catch,
while he still has a sense of control.

The deck had been cleared since the sub had appeared,
and the sailors prepared their defense –
but they’d not seen her crew since she made her debut –
and that just didn’t make any sense.

With a gantry that bragged an American flag,
her intentions were perfectly clear –
what she didn’t reveal were the six Navy SEALs
that had boarded their ship from the rear.

The SEALs had a goal to establish control
with a silent, but deadly assault –
with a surgical raid that would lead to the aid
of the girls who were sealed in a vault.

They were taught to diffuse, so they’d split into twos
to determine the size of the threat,
then they’d search every door, and to even the score –
they would kill any crewman they met.

A SEAL would take aim from the cab of a crane
that was used to move stuff on the deck
and another – a ridge on the side of the bridge,
so between them – the crew was in check.

The rest moved below like molasses in snow –
every step would be carefully placed,
‘cause they knew that surprise would prevent their demise
and reveal any danger they faced.

Their senses were stirred by the footsteps they heard
on the stairway that lead from the deck –
so the warriors would hide and attempt to provide
a reception they’d never expect.

The Captain was first to be met with the burst
of a rapid succession of lead,
then a total of four would be sent to the floor –
one was wounded and three would be dead.

Then bullets would fly from the soldiers up high
until no one was left to resist –
then they gave the “all-clear” as they gathered their gear,
while a medic was sent to assist.

Their search had revealed where the girls were concealed,
in a room that was back near the stern –
since they’d ended the spree, they could set them all free
to embark on their joyous return.

The sound of their door being opened before
it was time for their afternoon meal,
was a major surprise – when they opened their eyes
to an image both grand and surreal.

A warrior in black with his gun on his back
and a look of compassion and care
would be showered with cheers and benevolent tears –
they just couldn’t believe he was there.

When he called out the name of the girl from Ft. Wayne,
he was told she’d been cut from the rest –
that they’d taken the gal to a different locale,
but to where – that was anyone’s guess.

The team would disperse and the galley was first
on the trail of their final pursuit,
when a sound in the back had them poised to attack –
they were aiming and ready to shoot.

A man they’d construe as a part of the crew,
was beneath an aluminum cart –
when they asked him his name, he said Arthur McLain,
“but my mom and my friends call me Art”.

With sobs of despair and his hands in the air,
they advised him to get on his feet –
as he rose from his space – by the look on his face,
they could tell that he wasn’t complete.

They swore not to harm as they holstered their arms,
and they asked for his help with their quest
for the room that contained the one girl who remained –
a location he gladly confessed.

When her cell was traversed, she was frightened at first,
‘till her eyes would adjust to the light,
then the patch on his chest let her know she was blessed –
and she burst into tears of delight.

Some folks from the sub brought them sodas and grub,
while the medic gave each a review –
they were paired with a Chief who was there to debrief
for some leads that they planned to pursue.

Arthur was hot – the attention he got
made him feel like a king for a day –
he was loaded with claims of addresses and names
of officials they’d bought on the way.

A hug and a kiss for the girls she would miss
and squeeze for warriors in black,
then a motion would show it was her time to go –
from the pilot who’d carry her back.

As she looked at them all, she would pause to recall
just how thankful she was to be free –
then the chopper that came for girl from Ft. Wayne
lifted off from the Princess Marie.