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Applejack’s head broke the surface of the water, and she gasped for air, filling her lungs half with sea water in the process. She choked and coughed, struggling to stay afloat as she spat saltwater. Another breath, and this time a clear one. Her head, already foggy from shock, cleared slightly, and she took stock of her surroundings. All around her, floating bits of debris filled the ocean, remnants of the airship she’d been traveling on. The water was choppy, and rain pelted down onto the ocean’s surface from the storm above. Applejack stared up into the black clouds, searching the sky. She spotted, far above, another airship, it’s balloon-like oblong envelope a dark black canvas with a white skull insignia.
Air pirates.
Applejack shivered, looking around the water at the floating pieces of the Equestrian Charter airship. She didn’t see anypony else in the water. That was probably a good sign. The back of her head ached with a dull, throbbing pain, and her eyes couldn’t quite focus. She tried to center herself, recalling her situation.
She’d been unlucky. The moment the air pirates had boarded them, she’d joined the crew in fighting them off, keeping them away from the timid pony passengers and bucking several gryphon, diamond dog, and pony pirates across the deck as they attacked. She’d been overwhelmed, though, her last coherent thought had been looking up at the Equestrian Charter Ship’s envelope as the pirate captain—a particularly nasty looking unicorn—had set it on fire with a spell, while the passengers were rounded up and taken prisoner aboard the pirate ship.
Applejack glanced around herself. The water was black, and she couldn’t see much because of the dark cloud cover and the lateness of the evening. The sun was going down, she knew that much. As a farmer, she had a keen sense of the time of day, even when she couldn’t see the sun.
Treading water, she maneuvered over to a nearby crate floating in the flotsam, grabbing onto it and hoisting her upper body out of the water. She exhaled slowly, resting her limbs and clinging to the wooden box. She looked up again, and watched with dismay as the pirate airship turned in a slow circle and headed up into the clouds.
Applejack was alone, in the middle of the ocean.
She fought a sudden surge of panic, realizing the seriousness of her situation. Her head ached in sympathy, and she clung tighter to the box. Her limbs already felt heavy—no doubt due to the fight she’d been in—and the chill ocean was sapping her strength further. She grit her teeth, and began to kick, using her apple-bucking muscles to power her way towards another piece of floating debris. It was part of one of the side masts, about six feet in length and fairly thick, with some heavy-duty rope wrapped around it and trailing down into the depths. She paddled alongside it, bringing her crate in close, and then reached out with one hoof, grabbing the rope. She pulled the thick, damp lengths up from the water, coiling it haphazardly on the crate, grunting with the exertion. She brought the wooden mast close, and then began lashing the crate to the mast. She secured it carefully, taking her time with each loop and knot. She didn’t want this piece going anywhere. The sky continued to darken, and the rain didn’t stop, rolling in rivulets across her muzzle.
Applejacks’ shivering was growing worse, but she kept at the work. Finally, satisfied, she pulled herself up onto the box once more, kicking her hind legs towards the nearest bit of floating mess that she could see. The ocean waves were pulling the separate pieces of the wreck farther apart, some pieces already hopelessly out of her reach. The mast piece stayed lashed to the box, stabilizing it with its length and making her improvised raft considerably steadier.
She arrived at the next bit of debris, a three foot chunk of the ship railing. Some more rope was secured by a single metal brace and a airshipman’s knot to the floating wood railing. Applejack gripped the rope piece in the water and began hauling it up. She only got another seven feet of rope, before she discovered that the rope had been attached to part of the airship envelope. A section of scorched canvas was secured to the end rope.
Applejack grunted, hauling the heavy mass of cloth up on top of the crate, and working on disentangling the canvas from the rope. She finally succeeded, breathing heavily from the exertion. Her limbs felt like lead, and her shaking made it nearly impossible to have any level of dexterity. She brought the railing section closer, and lashed it next to the mast, adding to the buoyancy of her craft. The wet canvas was heavy, but Applejack carefully rolled it into a bundle, and tucked it into a section of rope atop the crate to keep it secure.
The sky was black, and Applejack sat atop her little raft, lower legs dangling in the water as she leaned heavily on the crate, panting. She tilted her head up and opened her mouth, letting the rain water fall into her parched throat. She swallowed the meager gulp of clean water, coughing slightly, but felt better. She turned around on the raft, facing the crate with a frown, and knocked her hoof on top of the crate. The crate made a dull thudding noise.
With an air of determination, Applejack pulled on the lid of the crate. It barely budged, the nails on the top secure. She snorted, frowning, and pulled her lower body out of the water. Balancing on her back on the slick section of floating mast, she braced her rear legs on the lip of the lid, and pushed for all her worth. The box groaned and creaked in protest, before the lid cracked and gave, some of the nails coming loose. Applejack grinned, rolling into a sitting position straddling the mast, and scooted closer to the crate. She gave another pull, and the lid popped open. She carefully balanced the lid of the crate between the mast and the railing pieces of her raft, before looking inside.
She scowled almost immediately. “Celery.”
The box contained a massive amount of celery. The crate must have been from inside the Equestrian Charter airship’s cold-room—a magically refrigerated room made for transporting perishable foods and goods. Applejack pulled few stalks of the stringy vegetable out of the box, eyeing them dubiously in the darkness. She rolled her eyes, after a moment, and began pitching them into the ocean. Celery wouldn’t stay good out here without proper refrigeration—not for long, anyhow. She threw out all but a dozen stalks of the stuff. The crate now sat empty, and Applejack cautiously pulled herself into the crate. It was a bit cramped, but she just barely fit inside. She snorted, satisfied with her work, and settled into the bottom of the crate, grabbing the remaining celery and the canvas. She tucked the celery into the box alongside her, and then pulled the wet canvas over the top of the crate.
Sheltered from the rain now, Applejack grinned to herself triumphantly. The inside of the box stayed dry, its construction seeming water tight, but Applejack checked it for any leaks anyway. No sense in having any surprises. Finding no weak points in the box, she sighed to herself, settling into the rocking rhythm of the ocean. Her whole body ached, and her head throbbed. Her shivering was still unpleasant, but she was glad for it—it meant that she wasn’t hypothermic. Being fully out of the water on the raft already was making her feel warmer. The rain continued to drum softly on the canvas roof.
Applejack suddenly reached up, grabbing the canvass, and pulled it close, subjecting herself to the rain once more as she began rolling up the damp canvas. She sat up in the crate and leaned over the edge of it, holding up the canvas over the ocean, and began to wring it out. She worked diligently, using up the last of her fading strength to wring the canvas out as dry as she could manage. She then unrolled the mostly dry cloth and pulled it once more over over the top of the crate. She smiled as the rain began to soak the canvas once more. She could use the canvas like a huge sponge, to soak up the clean rainwater. After all, she didn’t know how long she might have to be out on the ocean, and having some drinkable water would be nice.
The thought was a sobering one. How long would she be out here? She scrunched her eyes closed, focusing her exhausted mind on the question at hand. She was due in to the airship dock early in the morning of the following day. When the airship didn’t arrive, the alarm would probably be raised quickly, and search vessels and pegasai would be dispatched along the Equestrian Charter airship’s route to try and find the missing ship.
Applejack nodded. “A day. Maybe a bit more. Nothin’ ah can’t handle,” she whispered to herself.
She didn’t feel very convinced. She shook her head, sighing, and settling back into the cramped crate. She needed to rest. Her aching body needed to recuperate its strength, and hopefully in the morning her head wouldn’t ache so badly.
“... One day. No more than that,” she murmured.
