Day 5, morning

My watch buzzed on my wrist, waking me up. My twenty-minute cat nap was over. I checked the waves and the position of the boat and the wind. Three hours and I’d sleep another 20 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 before switching it back off. Whenever I was, it was before the invention of satellites. The past then. I got up and stretched. Ugh, 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 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. Exhaustion pulled at me but the sails were full and the ocean calm and sleep would need to wait. No memories yet. 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 as I worked the soap out of my hair and off my skin. The ocean wasn’t too chilly so I was for sure more south than north. It was a pleasant morning and I let myself float and relax as I waited.

Still nothing.

Ah well.

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 some warmth into me.

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

“Son of a bitch! Who the hell are you! What are you doing on my ship!” I grabbed for the nearest blade, my 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 handmaiden, Bessie. Bessie, who I’d promised would not have to sleep below decks 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. She was never supposed to see me like this. Catherine and Bessie were staring at me too. I froze in panic. What could I say? How could I explain?

Dive into the ocean or try to get my towel around me? I snatched up the towel as the women watched my every move. Shit. I tried to wrap the towel around my waist, but there were enough scars around my torso too. I shifted the small scrap of fabric over and over with shaking hands until I ended up with it around my hips and my arms crossed across my chest. My stomach rolled.

“Anne, oh, Anne. I’m so sorry.” Izzy moved as if to approach me and I jumped back. I did not want to be touched. I did not want to be seen. I did not want this moment to happen at all.

“I’m going to get dressed,” I announced to my passengers. I felt the heat of the burns all over again as they stared at me. “What’s for breakfast? Eggs? Toast?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Sounds good.” I didn’t even have to elbow anyone aside. They all made room for the monster so she wouldn’t come close to them.

My thoughts were all curses and epithets as I fled to my cabin. How could I have been so careless? How could my mind have so utterly failed me at so crucial a time! My cheeks flamed with shame. My sister already thought I was a freak of nature and here I was shoveling more fertilizer onto that assumption. I was a freak. I was ugly. I was unacceptable.

“Anne, I’m not done with this conversation!” Izzy’s voice startled the crap out of me and I fell against the bed. I whirled around to see her in my cabin. As far as I knew Izzy had never spent much/any time in here. No one did. The exposure hits just kept on coming.

“Izzy, I’m just getting dressed.” I threw open my drawers and pulled out a shirt (long sleeves), pants, socks, and boots. Normally I’d spend some time after bathing putting whatever semi-soothing concoction I had available on my scars and then carefully wrapping them and stretching before getting dressed, otherwise my legs became painfully dry and irritated. Today I yanked the pants on and grimaced about the price I’d pay for this negligence later. But I had to cover up. I had to hide this horror. I deserved this pain. I deserved this life. Izzy did not deserve to have this image of me in her brain.

“And? I’m not stopping you. What happened?” She crossed her arms as she waited for me to finish struggling into my clothes. I know at home we shared a room but this was my cabin, I shared it with no one. She shouldn’t be here. Izzy waited for her answer.

“Uhhhh,” what the hell could I tell her? The truth? The truth was worse than the not knowing. “The Puritans they –” I was insane. I couldn’t tell her this story. Acrid air was already beginning to overwhelm me. The memory of Izzy cowering in the corner of the galley flashed in front of my eyes. “I’m just getting dressed. It’s fine, Izzy. Don’t worry about it. I’m just getting dressed. Happened a long time ago.” I muscled my sister out of the cabin and shut the door. I was afraid of the smoke.