Ahoy!
Thank you to Mel, Jill, and Gemma!
SIXTEEN
It has been a fairly calm first twenty days at sea. Rarely, have I sailed outside the Caribbean, and though I don't know the waters of the wider world as well, I know that we have hit a streak of good fortune these past three weeks.
There have been days without wind, though it has not lasted longer than two days in a row, and though we've seen storms flickering in the distance, they have thus far not ventured in our direction.
The crew seems to credit Mademoiselle Beauvais for our good fortune, but I believe something greater than her is at work. After three years of penance, it feels as if God is finally on my side, aiding my quest.
Never have I crossed the great Atlantic without some sort of storm passing.
On the morning of the twenty-third day at sea, I wake from my short sleep shift and make my way to the deck. A group of sailors has gathered off the starboard side, and I cross the deck heading toward them, curious.
Beyond them, I can see a storm brewing on the horizon. It is dark, swirling, and ominous.
The sailors are silent as we all watch it, and when the first flickers of lightning illluminate the clouds, I hear a few people swear.
"Right," Captain Thorne says, her voice firm and strong. "Everyone batten down the hatches."
"Aye, Captain," Mr. Davenport says, turning to the crew. I hear her start to bark orders, and I turn toward Captain Thorne, moving to her side.
"Have you much experience with Atlantic storms?"
She looks at me. "I've enough. You?"
I frown, turning my gaze back to the grey horizon.
"The last time I crossed the Atlantic, I was a young lad. The storms were severe, but no lives were lost."
Captain Thorne lets out a breath.
"Then Neptune was in your favor."
I look at her again.
"Stay sharp, Captain. The coming hours will not be easy." She claps a hand on my shoulder before striding away. I turn my gaze back to the darkening skies and take a deep breath.
May God be with us.