Hellen

Philip finished his story, with me questioning things whenever I’m surprised or confused. Turns out that he somehow managed to outrun the Cadence and the horse. He stayed with Penelope Little—his girlfriend—for several days before deciding it was time to return home.

We returned to the chamber where our siblings hid and I asked, “Any news about Simon?”

Sarah shook her head. “No. We’ll just have to wait out the weeks. He can’t leave the cabin, or his temperature will drop, and it could be fatal. I’ve already informed Charles. He’s unhappy, but not too angry. He understands that there’s nothing I can do except for lengthening his lifespan slightly.”

“Well, then we’ll just need to see how long he can make it.” 

Two weeks passed while Simon attempted recovery from his illness, but he was still in the same state of hoarse coughing and constant shivers. Somehow, though, he was still filled with joy and laughter, even though he couldn’t go above deck or even leave our cabin.

We had managed to find new clothes belonging to the other people on the ship, and though there were no women, Sarah and I were fine with using men’s clothing. It surprised our brothers to see us wearing trousers, as it was always forbidden for girls.

I found a bit of string that I used to tie up my hair and Sarah tied up hers. It felt odd when I was tugging on the large boots. They were nowhere close to my size and I felt like I was walking in buckets.

With my hair tied up, my face smeared with dirt, and my outfit consisting of only men’s clothes, my siblings and I all agreed that I could probably sneak around the ship and pass for a thirteen-year-old orphan boy who joined the war for money instead of a thirteen-year-old, wealthy girl moving to Connecticut with her three brothers and sister just to get away from her father.

A week ago, I had searched each man on the ship’s luggage in search of food. I’d found a bit of stale bread, but not much else. We hadn’t many other choices but the bread if we wanted to not starve, so I’d pocketed the bread and we’d been breaking off small pieces now and then to eat ever since.

We were all hiding from a bunch of the naval soldiers who we could hear nearby when Simon’s coughing grew worse than ever. He sounded like a sea lion shouting at a seagull for stealing a fish. I heard the footsteps approaching. Clearly, Simon did, too, because he attempted to hold back his coughs.

Sarah slowly edged toward my younger brother, her eyes glossy as she gave us the look that announced, “His time’s almost up.”

We all crowded around Simon and sang the song that we’d agreed that we would sing to him as he left this life. It was an ancient, poetic melody that had been passed down through our family since the Renaissance. It was mournful, but at the same time, it brought peace. It was about a young woman who had lost her one true love.

As the song came to an end, we all cried as we looked down at Simon.

My youngest brother was gone.