Retribution

And then she was standing there, facing the wall and looking over it, blinking. She could see the ladies in the their finery standing tall, corseted waists and billowing skirts. They dwarfed her by an an unreasoning fraction. She stared, not knowing what to think. She started towards them, walking along the wall, dodging holy men at their morning prayers, blinking salt water from her eyes. She was met by a tall gentleman. He talked at her, taking her arm, muttering something about miracles. As his voice rebounded in her brain the ladies winked out of view. Standing in their pace were tall ships and small - the harbor docks. She stepped along with the captain at her elbow, on to his deck, turning when she heard her name called joyously.

They were standing on the ship's deck, surveying the water that had nearly claimed them, when the malevolence around them became clear. People stood, singly or in pairs, wet or stunned, staring at the grave of their mates. Blinded by grief, they had been too slow to recognize danger. The captain was not sanctuary. Rather, he was the worst kind of opportunist. He was using them to try to find the rest under the water, to plunder the wealth of their grave.  Grief and fury rose in her, stealing the warmth of the sun from her back. Rooted forever in power, she reached out to stop the vessel.

Vessel and persons began to sink under the waves. The caress of the cold water lulled each of them in turn.