Give No Quarter X
You looked at the droplets of dew frigid against your paled skin above the rope tightly binding your wrists before you. Your ankles and arms were tied as securely and you lacked more than shirt and trousers to protect you from the chill of dawn. You shivered violently against another early morning gale which reminded you of the damp glossed across your skin from a night spent on deck.
You could feel the chafe of the roughened rope against your skin, your hair hanging in sodden knots around your face. You closed your eyes, tired but having not a moment of sleep amid the ocean’s lashing. You recalled the day before, when the Major had unmasked your secret and proceeded in catechizing you. His manner was that of offense, as if he was insulted that a woman would paint herself a man. He had been severe in his questioning and your refusal to bend to his will had sharpened his mien.