They’d left the Falkland Islands several days ago and had sailed around Cape Horn without any problems. Some of the middle-class women had spread stories about traveling around the Horn and had stirred up fear regarding the rough waters, the strong winds and currents, the large waves, and even the possibility of icebergs. They told tales of the many shipwrecks, along with the treacherous williwaw winds that blasted down from the mountains, coming out of nowhere and driving ships to their death on the rocks. “A sailor’s graveyard,” they called it.

Thankfully, God spared the Tynemouth another brush with death. He’d apparently decided the gales they’d already encountered had been sufficient.

Instead, the ocean waters and breezes, while cold and crisp, had been calm even after they’d rounded the Horn and entered the Pacific Ocean. Although the peaceful waters were a blessing while rounding the dangerous tip of South America, the Tynemouth had gone for days with no wind to fill her sails and was apparently using up the new supply of coal much too quickly to fuel her engines when she should have sailed northward under the force of the wind.

“Mercy” came a whisper belonging to Ann. “You awake?”

“Aye, that I am, dear heart.”

“It’s Sarah. She’s burning up with fever and retching until she ain’t got nothin’ left.” Ann’s whisper was laced with fear, a fear that curdled in Mercy’s stomach like sour milk.

Mercy cast aside her coverlet and crawled from her bunk. She bumped against Ann, who was kneeling on the floor next to Sarah’s bed. “Have you been awake for long with her?”

“Awhile now,” Ann admitted softly. “I was hoping to let you sleep.”

The gesture had been a kind one, especially after Mercy had been up the past night tending to the women who’d suffered from food poisoning.

With the bountiful catch of wildfowl hanging out on the decks in the cold of the Southern Ocean breeze, they’d gorged themselves on duck soup and goose drumsticks. The gentlewomen had declared it was a feast just like Christmas, although for Mercy and the others from the city slums, it was their first real taste of such rich, roasted meat.

After several of the women had gotten sick last night, Mercy overheard Mrs. Robb speaking with Mr. Scott about the fowl, that even with the cold weather the meat was turning rancid and causing the sickness. The captain and Dr. Colville made the unpopular decision to throw the remaining carcasses overboard to prevent any further contamination.

Mercy laid a hand on Sarah’s forehead. The girl’s skin was burning up. At Mercy’s touch, Sarah thrashed and cried out, the same hoarse cry that had awoken Mercy moments ago.

“Is she suffering from the tainted food too?” Ann asked.