He turned his fedora uncomfortably in his hands. “Did I really make your life miserable?”
“Yes,” I said, but I laughed. “It’s okay, Lewis. I’ve forgiven you and moved on. I’m sure I was a pesky younger sister and you and Thomas were just trying to get rid of me.”
“No.” He shook his head, and then he took a deep breath, his hat becoming still. “I teased you because I liked you, Carrie.”
I stared at him for a moment, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I had a crush on you,” he said, his voice growing gentle.
“A crush?” I pressed my lips together, trying not to giggle, knowing he was still teasing me. “If you did, that was a funny way of showing it. I despised you, Lewis.”
Something painful crossed his face, but he quickly covered it with a chuckle of his own as he put his hat on his head. He started to walk away. “I guess I don’t blame you. I’d probably feel the same way if someone treated me so poorly.”
I felt bad for giggling, even if he was teasing, so I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “Please don’t be upset at me.”
He stopped and looked down at my hand before laying his over mine. “I could never be upset at you, Curly Carrie.” He winked. “Goodnight.”
I pulled my hand away, feeling horrible, though I wasn’t sure why. “Goodnight, Lewis.”
As I stood on the porch, I watched him walk down the steps and toward his waiting car. He started it and then waved at me before he pulled away into the night.
7
JUNE 29, 1727
GULF OF MEXICO
The setting sun was hotter than ever as I tossed the dirty water over the side of the ship, still thinking about Lewis’s visit from the night before. There was something different about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on. A change, though it was subtle. I’d spent the morning thinking about it as I scrubbed the floor in the captain’s cabin, and then the afternoon as I’d scrubbed Marcus’s cabin floor. I should have been strategizing my plan to get Alice to leave, or looking for a way to escape theOcean Curse, but all I could think about was Lewis.
“The crew is starting to whisper,” Timothy said as he came up next to me at the railing and leaned against it.
The Gulf of Mexico spread out before us in an endless sea of blue water. Nothing broke the monotony of it except the passing clouds overhead. And today, there wasn’t one in sight. The air was thick with humidity, making my skin sticky and wet, and my patience thin.
Timothy had been a good friend since we’d joined theOcean Curse, finding me in moments like this, usually to talk about our escape. Though sometimes he just wanted to gossip.
I’d discovered a lot about the captain and his crew through Timothy. Most of the men were rough and frightening. The less I interacted with them, the better, so Timothy’s insights were helpful.
“What are they whispering about?” I asked as I returned the empty wash bucket to my side, glancing out of the corner of my eye to make sure no was watching or listening.
Sweat dripped down my back, making my binding itch more than ever. Not for the first time since running away from Middleburg Plantation, I wanted a bath in the worst sort of way. I didn’t care if I fit in better being filthy. My hair itched, my body smelled, and I could hardly rest at night from the layer of grime on my skin. It only added to my irritation.
“Some are starting to think there’s a Jonah on board.”
“A Jonah?” I frowned, staring at my friend. I’d discovered that his father had been a mariner and he had learned most of his seafaring knowledge at his father’s knee. “What is that?”
“It’s when someone on board is making the entire ship unlucky. Like Jonah, from the Bible, who was running away from God. A great storm came upon the ship he was on, and the sailors threw Jonah off the ship to stop the storm. Soon, Jonah was swallowed by a big fish.”
“I know the story of Jonah,” I said, familiar with the biblical account. “But why do they think there is someone like that on board?”
“Since we haven’t come across any merchant ships in days and the wind has been stagnant and we’re not making any progress to Barataria, they’re suspecting there is a Jonah aboard.”
“Who can be a Jonah?”
“It’s usually a clergyman, who is from the line of Jonah the prophet.” Timothy shrugged, saying nonchalantly, “It could also be a woman or a witch.”
My mouth parted at the last two options, and my irritation fled, replaced by fear.
“They’re saying if a Jonah is on board, it’ll only get worse until they can uncover him and throw him into the ocean.”
