Day 6, afternoon

My watch buzzed after 20 minutes, waking me up. My eyes did not want to open. Exhaustion lay thick over every inch of me, body and mind, like a suffocating blanket. I rubbed my eyes and inhaled in unexpected pain. What the hell? Gingerly this time, I felt all sorts of cuts and bruises covering my face. When had that happened?

I got up and stretched. There was hot coffee next to the wheel that I didn’t remember pouring. I must have made it before going to sleep. Strange. That was not like me.

The sun beat down and I realized I was in full land clothing, not my breezy, equatorial ship clothing. I picked at the edges of the clothing, already uncomfortable. The compass read north. Why was I going north?

Something was off. Off to the side of the wheel was my notebook. Occasionally when I had long gaps in my memory after waking up I left myself notes. I flipped to the latest page and sure enough there was a long list of notes:

You just left Bermuda 1649

Don’t think about Andrews

Izzy is on board

Lady Catherine, Bessie, and a baby are aboard. These are not intruders.

Izzy has seen your scars

You are going to Greenland.

Helene beat the shit out of you.

Get your shit together

Izzy wants all kinds of answers

Learn the baby’s name

Bessie is asleep in the hammock

No technology

“Son of a bitch!” I hissed as it all came flooding back to me. I felt the bruises again. Bessie is asleep in the hammock, I read again. There was a hammock was strung between the masts. “Bessie?”

The young woman peeked her head over the top of the taut fabric. Yes, Captain?” She gripped the hammock tightly and her voice was tense and nervous. I’d bet my hat that I had woken her up and scared her a few times.

“Thank you for the coffee.” he must have put it out for me and then ducked inside the hammock to wait for me to wake up and stabilize.

“You’re welcome, Captain.” She disappeared back under the edges of the fabric.

I sat back in the captain’s chair and sipped the hot coffee. It was quiet up on deck with Bessie keeping herself as hidden as possible and no talk filtering up from the others below. I picked up the notebook and reviewed it, letting the memories sink back into place. I could not believe – did not want to believe that Izzy had seen my scars. But there sat that jar of ointment, tucked within reach, and my scars weren’t causing me distress underneath the wraps. It must be true.

The sun set after three hours of boring nothingness. I set my watch for my next twenty minute nap.