Everything was meant to change for the better upon reaching the new world. There was meant to be wealth and riches for all, a place to forge new lives for oneself, to begin anew as the Old World crumbled into corruption, disease and poverty. It was a living dream which many clung to with a desperate passion, and for those able to secure passage upon the great naval ships that braved the terrors of the vast ocean, it was a dream that became a soon to be reality. It was meant to be a time for hope, to believe with wonder of the fertile lands and bountiful prey that roamed the wilds ripe for the taking, however dreams, as they so often are, were merely the illusion of the desperate. At least, that was what little Mélanie Basset came to believe. After enduring the harsh onslaught of an ocean that seemed to want nothing else than to devour both her and the ship whole, fighting off the cold by desperately clinging to her maman whilst her papa held them both steady, whilst mewling with hunger as the pitiful rations that were distributed were insufficient to even fulfil the smallest of mice, Mélanie then had to contend with the sickness. In the dank, dark, disgusting belly of this supposedly great ship that seemed to have been utterly invincible when she had first laid eyes upon it, this frail little girl then found herself crushed into close quarters with dozens upon dozens of fellow hopeful travellers seeking a new life. It did not take long for sickness to become rife, with the rats furrowing and scratching at all hours of the day and night, many died within the first few weeks of the voyage from leaving the shores of France.

Throwing up what rations she had consumed, Mélanie was soon burning with fever and struggling against a raging headache as her maman cooed and hushed her gently all the while hiding her tears, singing her French lullabies which always used to be so comforting, but in the garish loom of a dim lamp which swung with the undulating of the ship, with rats scurrying over her feet, legs and over her body to chew at anything they could sink their teeth into, Mélanie took no comfort from her maman's sweet voice, or her papa's willowy arms about them both. Opening her bleary eyes, Mélanie could see someone staring straight back at her. The sight caused her to scream, a weak and pathetic cry as the glassy orbs remained unblinking in the gloom, the rats beginning to squeak and scurry as they feasted upon the dead flesh before it was even cold.

This was hell. There was no other word for it, and Mélanie wished with all her heart that they had never taken this rotten ship for a dream of a better tomorrow whilst having to endure all this suffering. She would gladly have paid anything to have the ship turnabout and bring her back to France, to the little room that had been her entire home, where her papa had earned his living working the fields or tending to the nobleman's horses, and maman had sewn clothes with fine needlework unlike any other. In order to distract herself from the wallowing feverishness and sense of damnation, little Mélanie Basset passed the time of her sickness imagining herself back in her poverty stricken yet idyllic village chasing chickens and basking under the sunlight near the wheat fields, stealing into the vineyards to steal a taste of the ripe grapes that were soon to be harvested. In her mind's eye, Mélanie was safe and well, rosy cheeked from running through the mud in her ragged skirts that had lasted her more than a few seasons, barefoot and laughing all the while, for even though she and her family were poor, she had everything she could ever desire.

It had all seemed like such a good idea at first. To jump onto the shared dream that had people uprooting themselves from their homes in order to sail to the other side of the world for a better life, for more food than one could ever eat and land aplenty to build your own home, but to Mélanie, the present outweighed the opportunities of the future, and at present she was miserable. Soon enough both her papa and maman were sick too, and it was all they could do just to huddle together under the single blanket they had always shared, and attempt to outlive the disease that was having its way with those who had no means to fight against it. Coughing with hurt, Mélanie managed to wriggle a little closer into her maman's chest. "Maman…combien de jours…?"

"Pas longtemps, ma belle fille…pas longtemps." The sweet singsong voice that had until now sung nostalgic lullabies cracked like ancient wood, dried and brittle to the ear. In truth there was no way of knowing how much longer until the ship would arrive at port, or even how many weeks they had been at sea, for trapped in the dark with no means to tell the time, it was as much a guess as it was trying to number the stars in the heavens. Mélanie coughed once more and rubbed at her face where the tears of pain streamed constantly with bitter saltiness wetting her dry lips almost as if to taunt her. Soon she was so thirsty that she could not even cry, making the child wonder if this was perhaps the way she was destined to die. Would God be so cruel? To take her now from her parents after they had worked so hard to save what little funds they could, starving themselves for days, weeks even, just to secure passage to this supposed utopia? If God was so cruel…then Mélanie bitterly vowed that she would never show love nor reverence to such a Being as He again.

The ship gave another jarring lurch, shouts coming from above as the crashing waves hammered against the sides, flooding the deck and pouring onto the lower levels so that many, who were already cold and frozen, were now soaking wet as well. Mélanie almost laughed at the misery of them all. They were no better off then animals, treated like livestock where they were left to live or die by their own margin. Another wave came, and this time, Mélanie heard the accompanying thunder that followed and wondered if there was perhaps a storm outside. Everything rocked and swayed, the cargo pulling at their restraints fervently at the fierce battle the ship waged against the ocean who was swiftly proving to be the superior force. It happened all at once, the fateful moment that would forever reshape little Mélanie Basset's life. The constant swaying of the ship seemed to stop for a brief moment, causing more than one confused head to raise in question until all at once, before any thoughts as to what was happening could be spoken, the ship crashed back down onto the ocean's surface from where it had almost flown from a towering wave with such brutal force that everything and everyone was thrown into disarray with a collision of screams flying into the air. Mélanie instinctively sought out her maman, who in turn called for her husband to rouse himself from sleep. "Pierre! Pierre mon chéri! Réveiller! Maintenant!" Struggling from his sick-laden slumber, the gravity of the situation swiftly presented itself as barrels and crates broke free from where they had been secured and were now flying freely about the hold.

"Fais attention!" Snapping both his wife and daughter to him, Mélanie's father used himself as their shield as a crate fell from above and shattered near to them, the splinters bursting outwards and digging deeply into his leg as the women and children all cried in fear and the men shouted for help, never to be heard by those above underneath the howling depths of the storm that had captured them in its grasp. "Attendez, tout ira bien, papa est là." It was all Mélanie could do just to try and focus on her papa's voice as he stroked at her hair and promised that all would be well, her maman praying fervently whilst clutching at her child in terror as the entire ship lurched seemingly uncontrollably, throwing everyone and everything without restraint in a mass of chaos that seemed unrelenting in its course. Feeling something wet and furry suddenly crawl up her shirt, Mélanie screamed as she realised that the rats were attempting to use her as a means to climb upwards, their disgusting claws digging into her tender skin and brushing past her ear and through her hair.

She loathed the creatures, and recalling the image of the rats gnawing upon the flesh of the dead, she feared that they would soon eat her should she die in this hellish pit. Her cries and pleading for salvation joined the other voices that cried out for aid, for deliverance, but none was to be given or had. There was a brief interlude of angelic calmness, a moment when everything seemed to calm and go peacefully still until the ship revealed that it had not beaten the storm, but was merely rolling. As it leaned precariously onto its side, white sails stripped and torn from the lashings of rain that had beaten down from above, the great galleon plunged into the icy depths as the mast snapped in two. The groaning of breaking wood could be heard all the way down to the belly, where all was tumbled and tossed into a mass of confusion and painful things slamming against Mélanie's body until she was certain that she could take no more. Her parents were gone, lost to the effects of the ship's overturning where their arms, slippery from the rain and water that had washed into the ship's belly, had lost their grip upon her much to their horror and fear.

Mélanie had no time to be frightened for the loss of her parents, for the moment she landed somewhere solid, with a number of bodies underneath her and the rats still screeching horrifically to escape and climb, the onslaught of seawater came rushing in with a deafening sound that deafened her ears. It was so loud she could not even hope to hear her parents call for her, so all she could do was scramble to try and fight against the mass of contorted limbs and desperate bodies of people also attempting to flee for their lives that threatened to crush her. Then the water struck her and all was swept away. Mélanie would have been lost were it not the length of rope she had managed to grasp hold of, tightly woven around a wooden post to keep her from being pulled to the bottom of the ship where it had tilted upwards, pulling everything below as the hull began to rapidly fill with the ocean.

What occurred next was mostly lost to memory ravaged by sickness and fear, for Mélanie could not recall the events that followed the ship going under and the basin filling up with a rising level of water. Mere flashes of images followed in her head, like bright bursts of lightning which boomed overhead. The current near pulled her under, the water entering her mouth and nose with a white frothing madness that terrified her utterly. Debris floated in the water, her arm still wrapped around the rope. Arms flailed in the water before suddenly becoming lost to the pitch blackness, and beyond that it was only blackness that Mélanie remembered. She was struck by things many times but her body soon became numb to the sensation from the sheer cold of the ocean around her, before an overpowering pulling sensation suddenly sucked her down and ripped her from the rope, pulling her down to the floor and through the hatch that led to the upper levels of the ship.

The ship had broken free of the water once more time, as if to take one final, desperate gasp for air before being dragged under completely, but it was enough to pull air back into the ship's body, causing a vacuum that pulled Mélanie all the way through before she was scrambling against the hard wooden floor. It was sheer terror that drove her now, and even as she continued to crawl desperately whilst in complete and total blindness, she could still hear the rats underneath the torrential tones of the storm as it continued its assault upon the ship, wanting to devastate it completely. Fearful of the rats as she was, Mélanie found herself following the sound as best she could, eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to divulge shapes and silhouettes in the vast blackness. She had somehow been delivered to the gun deck, the cannons rolling back and forth in their restraints, and there Mélanie saw the rats clambering out of the portholes and leaping for freedom.

Mélanie hesitated, sucking in air as she felt the ship shudder and groan once more. Should she try to go back for her parents? Her maman and papa? Perhaps she could find them and pull them to safety, if papa was there, then perhaps they could make it to the ship's deck and find a safer way off the ship together? Her sobs and desperate gasps wracked her body, unable to make her frozen fingers move as she lay flat upon her belly on the floor, digging in her nails until they were bleeding and raw as the ship tilted upwards once again. Before any decision could be made, there was a horrifying crack like the sound of bone breaking before the entire ship was torn in two right before Mélanie's eyes and all at once, an illuminating burst of lighting filled the sky and blinded Mélanie's vision with a painful whiteness that tore a scream from her throat.

The choice to return for her parents was taken from her, as Mélanie was thrown like a ragdoll from the ship and plunged back into the ocean where everything became nothing more than an empty void, the souls of the despairing and the dying being silenced by the boundless grasp of the ocean as it claimed another victory and the spoils it afforded her, to be caressed by silken weaves upon a velvet seafloor to be prized and cherished for all time and eternity. Mélanie hung there, unmoving in the ocean's throng, lifeless as driftwood, paler than ice as she too descended towards the promised velvet bed of sand, to be forever robed in watery silk and adorned with a crown of corals and pearls. As her last thoughts drifted away from her, Mélanie wondered if she might become a beautiful mermaid like in her maman's stories, and decided that perhaps such a thing would not be so bad.


Maman – Mother/Mama

Papa – Father/Papa

Maman…combien de jours…? - Mother…how many days…?

Pas longtemps, ma belle fille…pas longtemps – Not long, my beautiful daughter…not long

Pierre mon chéri! Réveiller! Maintenant – Pierre my dearest! Wake up! Now!

Fais attention! – Watch out!

Attendez, tout ira bien, papa est là – Hold on, everything is alright, papa is here