John and I are beginning to feel the heat of the midday sun when we are finally taken on as sailors.

A tall, thin man who we later learn is first mate shows us about the ship, all the while looking at us with a disgusted expression. I glare at his back, silently informing him that it is not my fault I have not bathed in two days. John, I am sure, is far worse off.

Finally, he shows us the galley, and with a look of great relief, shoves us at the grizzled old man serenely chopping vegetables. He is gone before we can say anything.

'Ah, you two can help me chop these! I'm George, by the way.' He smiles at us in a friendly manner, and I smile back tentatively.

'That's the way, lad! Don't be shy! 'Ere, you can chop these onions. You!' he says, addressing John, 'Come now, I don't bite!'

Even John, distrustful as he is, cannot help smiling at the friendly old man.

'There we go! What be your names?'

'I'm R...Will! And this is John.' John looks at me suspiciously for a second, but then goes back to chopping his portion of the vegetables.

A tall man with sandy hair appears in the doorway, guiding two boys, who can't be any older than twelve. He is tanned and freckled, with laughing blue eyes and a big smile. I like him in an instant.

'George, my man! These be sailors, not cabin boys! Here are some real cabin boys!' He says, thrusting the two terrified youngsters at the cook. 'Yer gettin' blind in yer age.'

George laughs good-naturedly. 'I've still got a few good years left, mate. You two can finish up these, eh? Oh, and you two,' he calls after me and John 'stop by anytime you like, eh?'

Our rescuer leads us out onto the deck. 'I'm Pete, second mate. You are - ?'

This time John introduces us. 'John an' Will, sir.'

'Pleasure to meet you.' I chime in, cursing my voice for sounding so high.

Pete laughs. 'No need for such formalities between fellow sailors. Speaking of which – how well can you two sail?'

'Tolerably well. I've been sailing since I was eight.' I say confidently.

John squirms and looks slightly embarrassed. 'I've never been on a ship in my life.'

Pete smiles at us. 'No worried, yer friend can teach you. You look like a smart lad, you'll catch on quick. Come to me if you have any troubles, the oldsailors tend to pick on the new ones.' He shows us to a spot on the deck, and leaves us there with instructions as to how to work a cannon.

Over the next few days, I show John how to unfurl a sail, steer a ship, and climb the rigging. John is a quick learner indeed, and I find great joy in teaching him as my father's men once taught me.

He is a good, loyal friend, and I often feel horrible for deceiving him like I have done. But what else can I do? Certainly not risk telling him.

In the evenings, the men gather together and have a drink or two before bed. Friendly, quiet Silas with a wife and children back home plays the fiddle and tells us stories about his family. Aloof, outspoken Andrew plays the accordion, and we have a fine little band to liven the cold nights at sea.

I have not seen a naval officer since I set foot on the ship, although later I learn the stuffy first mate is one.

George slips me and John warm buns and tea when we come down to the galley after a stormy night. Often Pete joins us. John and I have been taken under their wings, and I am grateful. One often hears tales of other young sailors being bullied, but John and I are unaffected because of the protection offered us by our friends.

Silas (whom I have befriended as well) and I are walking to the bunks on night when we hear squeaks and thumps coming from a small room off to one side of the ship. We open it hesitantly, and find a small cabin boy curled up in a corner, being kicked by three brutish sailors.

'Stop this at once!' I yell, absolutely furious. Silas is even madder than I, for he has children of his own.

With an angry yell, he rushes at the three sailors, punching and punching until he gets to the boy. I follow him, knocking out the last two sailors. The boy is sitting up, and looks fine, except for bruises beginning to form on his arms.

I am shaking with fury. Silas scoops him up in his arms. 'I'm takin' him to George. He can fix 'im up proper. You lock them in here and go get Pete. He'll know what to do.' I nod, and hurry to find do as I am told.

Captain Lawrence is a powerful looking man, with a huge, dark beard and bushy eyebrows. He looks at me with concern and inquires as to whether I am harmed or not before rushing to get an officer.

Pete comes up behind me, fury etched in hard lines on his face. 'Go see how the boy is. I'll stay here.'

When I reach the galley, the child is sitting on a table, insisting he is fine, while George and Silas hover over him.

John rummages in a cabinet, trying to find more bandages. I reach into the cabinet, and deftly pluck a roll from it, sticking my tongue out at my friend. He sticks his out at me in return, and hands the bandages to Silas.

'How are you, little fellow?' John asks, a look of concern on his face. 'Who did this? I'll get 'em, I will!' He makes violent gestures to the air.

George puts a hand on his arm, laughing. 'Easy, boy. You aren't gonna help'im by hurtin' any air, I can tell you that much.' John looks slightly ashamed, and puts his fists down.

I, meanwhile, am leaning over by the boy.

'You look like my brother, Robby,' I tell him wistfully, ruffling his hair. I miss my family, even sometimes my father. 'What's your name? How old are you?'

'I be Amos, sir. I'm twelve, almost.' Exactly as old as my brother. My heart is clenched by an invisible fist, and for the first time, I feel lonely aboard the ship.

Silas notices, and steers me over by George, where I busy my hands with pouring five mugs of rich, steaming tea.

Silas, John, George and I talk to Amos until Pete comes in. George presses a mug of tea into his hand, and after making sure Amos is alright and assuring us that his assaulters will be punished, orders us all off to bed.

At my suggestion, a hammock is strung between the one I share with John and the one Silas shares with another sailor. Amos will sleep there from now on.

Rejoicing in the fact that he no longer has to share a hammock, as all the sailors do, Amos is soon sleeping soundly.

'You miss your brother a lot, don't you?' John startles me. I thought he was asleep.

'Yes.' I say. 'I used to read to him on rainy days, when he was younger.'

John looks at Amos for a moment. 'The older street boys used to beat me up and steal my food 'fore I learned to fight. A merchant taught me to fence. Say,' he says, brightening 'can you fence?'

I blush, thankful he can't see in the dark. 'No.'

'Pity to let a fine sword like that go to waste. You been teachin' me sailing. I'll teach you to fence.'

'Deal.' I say sleepily, before drifting off.

Will and Anamaria fence on the deck of the ship, with the crew laughing and egging on their favorite competitor.

'Boo, Turner!'

'Go Ana!'

'Eat dung, Ana!'

'You can beat 'er, Will!'

Jack and my mother laugh and egg on each other's spouses, booing their own.

I try to cheer for my father, but can only gurgle. I'm still a baby.

Will comes over to kiss me and my mother. She sticks out her tongue at him, and he sticks his tongue out at her, a gesture eerily reminiscent of me and John.

Ana playfully swats Jack, and then begins to chase after her son, who is toddling across the deck as fast as he can. I notice he has golden skin and tousled black hair.

'John! Get over here, you rascal!' She yells.

I wake up in a cold sweat, managing to convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me before falling back asleep.

In the back of my mind, however, I am beginning to realize that these are not dreams, but…..memories?