Taken For A Ride

I awoke to a bucket of cold water landing across my face, followed quickly by the bucket itself. My vision, when it cleared of water, was filled with the wrong end of a rifle.

“Stowaways get thrown overboard. Or shot. Your choice.”

I considered this kind offer for a second.

“Surely you need a deck hand?”

There was a chuckle from the assembled crew.

“Nah, those are your options, boy.”

I sighed.

“And if I told you I wasn’t a boy?”

The argument over first use turned into a drinking contest, thus making their necks easy prey for my knife.