Hattie Wright sucked in a deep breath before slowly letting the air back out. The long drop over the side of the ship to the water below was a heart-rending distance.

What had seemed a plausible idea only a minute or two before; now revealed itself to be nothing short of madness.

She wondered how hard the water would be when she finally hit it. Had she overestimated her strength as a swimmer and was she fated to drown before she could make it back to shore?

Worst of all, were there sharks lurking in the murky depths below?

She lifted her gaze from the deep green of the bay and looked at the small town of Gibraltar a quarter mile across the water. Soon it would be out of sight and the Blade of Orion would be on her way to Africa.

Earlier that morning, with her fiancé holding her firmly by the hand Hattie had made the short journey up the gangplank and onto the ship. All the while her heart had been beating a loud tattoo within her chest.

No. no. no.

Gibraltar was the last stop before they embarked on the long journey down the West coast of Africa to their destination of Sierra Leone. When her parents first announced their mission to Africa, she had tried to convince herself that this was her destiny. Her parents were resolved in their mission to bring the word of God to the people of Freetown and she as their dutiful daughter was to accompany them. Reverend Peter Brown, her recently acquired fiancé, was just another part of the grand plan. One which had been laid out for her.

She rubbed her finger across the deep scowl line which sat just above her nose. She was by nature a person who worried about all manner of things. The impending journey to Africa had her lying awake every night.

Long before the ship had left London Dock a nagging doubt had sparked and grown within her mind. Was this what she truly wanted for her life? Once she was wed to the dour Peter, all choice would be gone. Her life would be set in stone.

And what of the friends she was being forced to leave behind. How would they survive without her?

She looked back at the ship's deck. Apart from the crew there were no other passengers up on deck. Her mother would no doubt, be busy rearranging their tiny cabin for the second time that morning. Hattie knew her mother well. A place for everything and everything in its place.

Her father and Peter would be locked in one of their never-ending conversations about how they were to set up the ministry on the edge of the African jungle. Every day on the journey thus far they had spent hours poring over paperwork and the building plans for a new church. A church in which she and Peter would be married.

Everyone was busy with their own priorities. No one would come looking for her until it was too late. By the time they did she would be long gone.

She looked down once more at the water lapping against the side of the ship. Soon the Blade of Orion would be far from port and the opportunity to change her life would be lost. She either accepted her future as the wife of a missionary or she jumped.

The chill wind ruffled her light gold hair. Her pounding heart reminding her in its heavy beat that she was still very much alive. But would she be so when her body hit the water far below and she sunk deep beneath the waves?

The ship's leading hand bellowed out orders to set out the sails. Sailors on the deck quickly scrambled up into the ropes. As the hive of activity swirled around the deck, she was grateful no one appeared to have noticed her presence.

Her conscience which had until this morning vacillated between acceptance and rebellion finally made up its mind. The truth was, she counselled herself if she were to die shortly, it would be the better death. Quickly drowning in the Bay of Gibraltar would be preferable to a long living death as Peter’s wife in the dark heart of the African continent.

In the short period they had been engaged, Peter had revealed to her the kind of husband he would make. There would be little laughter or happiness in their marriage. Duty would be the only constant.

A tiny voice in the back of her brain whispered, urging her on.

“You have to move.”

For every second that she delayed, the opportunity to determine her own future slipped further from her reach. Even now the swim to shore would test her endurance to its limits.

She slowly began to make her way along the deck to where the gangplank, having been raised, was now stored. The end of the plank still jutted a good eight feet out over the side of the ship. Not much, but it at least afforded her the semblance of a chance that if she went into the water from here, she could be clear of the ship and its dangerous wake.

Hoisting her skirts, she climbed up onto the long wooden bridge. Dropping to her knees, she crawled out past the edge of the ship and over the water. At the end of the gangplank she sat down and swung her feet over the side.

In the middle distance, Gibraltar was slowly, but certainly slipping away.

It was now or never.

“Lord if you grant me this boon I shall remain your devoted servant always,” she vowed.

After a final glance back over her shoulder at the deck of the ship, Hattie took a deep breath and dropped over the side.