My watch buzzed on my wrist, waking me up. My twenty-minute power nap was over. I checked the waves and the position of the boat and the wind. Three hours and I’d sleep another twenty minutes. I stretched. All was calm. 

 

I rubbed my hands over my eyes and through my hair and winced as I felt a number of bruises and cuts on my face. When had that happened? My heading was north. North. I sat back and contemplated. Why was I going north? 

I was disoriented despite my routine surroundings. I know I had set the rudder toward north, but I couldn’t remember why. I wasn’t near the portal. The temperature was warm, so I wasn’t terribly far from the equator. I rubbed my eyes again and settled in to wait for my memory to catch up with my senses. If the stars were out, I could at least deduce my location, but the bright morning sunlight obscured that knowledge from me. On a whim I turned on the Sat Nav and watched it spin. I turned it off. Whenever I was, it was before the invention of satellites. I was in the past, then. 

 

I got up and stretched. I smelled like horse. Whatever time it was, it was time for soap. I undid my braids and stripped down and opened the port bench where I stashed my bucket and soap. I lowered and brought up a bucket full of sea water and placed it on the deck. My clothes smelled; it would be worth giving them a wash too. I stripped all the way down and dunked everything in the bucket of soapy water. 

 

I looked again up at the sky, wishing my memory would return to me already. I was exhausted. The sky was clear and the ocean calm. Best drop the sails and stay in a holding pattern until I could remember where I was, when I was, and why the hell I was going north. I dipped the soap in the water and began lathering. Once covered in foam head to toe, I kicked the ladder into the water and dove in. I floated for a while and worked the soap out of my hair and off my skin. The water wasn’t too chilly, so I was for sure more south than north. I climbed back onto the ship and spread my towel out to dry off in the sun. It was quiet and warm and beautiful. I could spare a few moments from my memory as the sun baked warmth into me. 

 

“Captain?” A voice spoke from the hammock strung between the masts, shocking the hell out of me. 

 

“Son of a bitch!” I exclaimed. “Who the hell are you! What are you doing on my ship!” I grabbed for the nearest blade, a short sword, and pointed it at the young woman’s face peeking above the hammock sides. 

 

“Captain!” she exclaimed, eyes wide and frightened. “It’s me! Bessie!” Her voice was pinched in fear. 

 

“Who?” I kept the blade steady on her when I heard more footsteps race up the stairs. The hackles on my neck raised and I was in full fight or flight mode in the space of a heartbeat. Intruders were on my ship! How did they get here? 

 

“Anne!” Izzy’s familiar voice called out to me, and I whirled to face her. She was in a cotton nightgown, and my sprinting heart calmed at the sight of her.  

 

I remembered now. I dropped the sword. We had just left Bermuda where Izzy had gotten married. We were heading to Greenland with Catherine, her baby, and her handmaid Bessie. Bessie, who I’d promised would not have to sleep belowdecks, so I’d strung up the hammock for her. I rubbed my eyes as it all returned to me. 

 

“Son of a bitch,” I said again, this time whispered to myself, as all the gory memories returned in full color. I touched my cheek again, gingerly now, remembering how Helene had punched the shit out of me. 

 

“Anne?” Izzy called to me again, and I looked up and saw her eyes glued to my body, wide and appalled. 

 

Shit, I was naked, naked and scarred.