The wind blew in my face, coming off of the ocean. It whipped away the sound of Mother trying to calm down Father’s temper. This was why I hated arguments. I had just as much temper as my father, truth be told, but my irrational fear of my own anger always smothered my fits of temper before they could get going. I’d never understood why I was so afraid of myself. Nobody else seemed to have such a fear. I’d talked to several of my teachers as well as many fellow students, and none of them had any similar experience or any explanation for it. It was just one more thing to add to the long list of things wrong with me.

I wandered along the sand, imagining my tension blowing away on the sea breeze. I turned my path toward the cliffs that rose to the north. There was a spot there where I had played as a child. I’d found a sheltered cove that could only be reached at low tide. I imagined it as a hiding place for pirates and brave oceanic adventurers. I soon reached the spot where a narrow strip of sand ran between the foaming waves and the sheer cliff. The tide was coming in, but I didn’t care. What did it matter if I had to wade back?

As I rounded the last point of rock to the sheltered cove I stopped and stared. There, anchored not far from the shore, was the embodiment of my childhood fancies. A ship, three-masted and made for the open sea. Her flag, bearing an emblem I didn’t recognize, snapped in the breeze. Her lines were sleek, built for speed, and a bank of oars only added to that impression. My eye went to the shore where a longboat was drawn up on the sand. A line of footprints lead from the boat along the beach in my direction, but there was no sign of whoever had rowed it ashore. Rather, the prints ended near the cliff base at a spot where climbing it might be possible.

I had just enough time to wonder who would have put ashore in such an out of the way place before I heard a solid thud behind me. I spun around to see a burly seaman with a snaggle-toothed grin. He had a thick club in one hand and didn’t look at all friendly. I spun around again to run the other way, only to see a second man drop from the rocks above, cutting me off.

“Eh Tim, looks like our lad ‘ere has saved us the trouble of looking for ‘im by comin’ ‘ere ‘imself.” This was the first man speaking. He roughly grabbed me by the arm. I tried to jerk my arm free, but a scholarly life had left my strength woefully inadequate for the task.

“Sure Johnny, he’s a bit scrawny, he is, but he’ll do ‘til we reach port.” The second man advanced on me and gave me a head-to-toe inspection. Then he whistled. “Look here, Johnny, he’s got cat eyes!”

Johnny turned me around to get a look. “So ‘e ‘as! Well now, ‘e’ll fetch a pretty price at the market, ‘e will. An’ look ‘ere! ‘Is ears is pointy too! Like a bloomin’ cat ‘e is!”

Tim put one dirty hand to my mouth and peeled back my upper lip. I glared impotently at this invasion of my person. “He’s a cat alright. He’s even got the teeth for it. Cap’n will be glad to see him, I’ll wager. He’ll go for more than a few pence once we reach market.”

And so this pair of ruffians unceremoniously dragged me off. Their talk of market and price had hinted at a fate in store that I dreaded. I suspected that I had been caught by slavers.