“I know, sir. He was quite old and asthmatic. Name’s Phillip Squires.”
“Cause of death?”
“Old age and poor constitution, I think.”
“No illness?”
The seaman scratched his head. “Not that I know of, sir.” He didn’t seem confident of much.
“Please confirm that with the doctor and let me know.” Will brushed more water out of his eyes. It was a terrible omen to lose someone on the first day of a voyage. “Prepare the body in the usual way, and we will meet for a service at seven in the morning.”
The young man confirmed orders and slunk across the waist deck of the ship, holding tight to the rigging as he crossed. Will forced himself to focus on the channel in front of him, making sure to stay in the safest drafts of water.
“Look over there,” Jack said, coming up beside him.
“I don’t have time to focus on anything but clearing this channel,” Will replied, without turning.
“But those be masts ...” From Will’s periphery he saw Jack point across himself. “She’s been shipwrecked.”
Such words drew Will’s attention, no matter his resolve. Eerie, jagged pillars jutted out at odd angles, the hull of the half-destroyed boat caught on a sandbar near the shore. Great, holey, weatherworn sails blew wildly in the wind like sentinel ghosts warning of danger in the waning light.
“Good heavens.” Will steeled himself for the second time in fifteen minutes before turning back to the helm.
“Unsettlin’, right? And that old man,” Jack continued, “did ye—”
“I know.” Will usually enjoyed Jack’s colorful reports of the ship’s happenings, but between the storm, the aground vessel, and the man’s death, he wasn’t in any humor for more suspicion. He only hoped bad things came in threes and nothing more.
“It’s these passengers, I tell ye. Cursed.”
“Jack,” Will hissed under his breath. “You can’t speak like that. I won’t have it on this ship, and I know the captain will not stand for it.”
Jack grunted and snapped his feet together. “Yes, Mr. Boyd.”
“Please go see to the body. I don’t trust that young seaman for an instant.”
Jack stepped down the ladder and moved to the main hatchway.
Only a few passengers remained on deck, watching the land on either side as they made their way through the Irish channel.
One of them, he noticed, was that naive young woman from the market and the gangplank. He’d learn her name one of these days, he was sure, especially if she was always bound to be found in trouble. At present, the riggingpartially shielded her from the heavy rain, but he wondered why she hadn’t gone down below yet with such blustery conditions surrounding them.
Between her run-in with the horrid Mrs. Rollins and her overburdened climb up the gangway, she had been like a magnet to situations nearly out of her control. It seemed—he hadn’t wanted to encourage Jack—but perhaps itwasher presence, or the presence of all the zealots, that was bringing bad luck on them all.
One thing was sure, if every day were as bad as today, neither the boat nor its passengers would make it to New Orleans in one piece.
Chapter 4
February 24, 1854
3 days at sea
Ann couldn’t rememberbeing so sick in her entire life. The first day, she’d tried to brave the weather as they sailed, but eventually the heavy rain had driven her to her family’s cabin. While the winds remained strong, she’d passed two miserable days trying to get used to the seasickness. Her family was no better. Ann’s mother, sister and brother-in-law had chatted and prayed and even sung a hymn as they shared their quarters, but Ann could see on each of their faces that none of them was comfortable.
The only time she left the room was when she came out onto the deck to pay respects at poor Brother Squires’s burial. Seeing Brother Squires’s body slide off the wooden board into the sea had made her stomach lurch even more than the wretched seasickness did.
Job was the first to improve, and he assured Ann that fresh air helped with a sour stomach. Once the winds finally calmed, Ann stepped out of her cabin to give his advice a try. Before she shut the door, she glanced around at the small space. It was cleaner than the lodging house, but even smaller. An entire family in one cabin meant every inch was crowded, with additional hammocks cluttering the walls over the two main mattresses. Ann’s mother had gone to fetch their meal from the steerage. Little Cyrus swung in one of the hammocks, and Adelaide sat on the bed, feeding the baby. Her sister’s health was improving, but she was not quite ready to walk around the deck yet.
Once Ann closed the door behind her, she stood in the small, shared vestibule. She passed the rectangular table that stood in the common area between the few cabins on this level. This was where, when they felt up to eating, they’d take their meals. With a hopeful, deep breath, she exited the common area and made her way to the middle deck.
