Chapters (41)
- Cover
- Books by Jody Hedlund
- Title Page
- Epigraph
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- Author’s Note
- About the Author
- Back Ad
- Back Cover
The smell of vomit permeated the cabin. Even though Mercy had already emptied the floral china washbasin several times over the ship’s railing, the stench still hung heavily in the air.
Mercy shook the rain from her skirt and hair before bending over Sarah, who was curled into a ball on her straw-filled mattress in the narrow bunk.
Sarah had seemed fine yesterday after they’d boarded the ship. She’d been as excited as the rest of the girls to pick their room. Despite its being plain and windowless, without any furnishings except for the wooden bunks, the washbasin and a matching pitcher, they’d each exclaimed over the room and had taken turns lounging on the different beds.
At some point during the night, rain began pelting the ship, and the wind howled as the storm became more intense. Soon large waves were buffeting the ship, tilting it to and fro like a drunkard stumbling out of a tavern. It wasn’t long afterward that Sarah woke up moaning, dizzy with nausea.
Mercy had tended the girl through the rest of the night, until Sarah had finally fallen asleep at the first light of dawn. Mercy had used the opportunity to leave the cabin and explore the deck. At the early hour it had been deserted, and she relished a few moments of privacy, catching a breath of fresh air under an overhang while letting the pitcher from their cabin fill with rainwater. It seemed the worst of the storm was over.
“Bless your sweet face,” Mercy said, brushing Sarah’s cheek with the back of her hand. “A cool drink should help, that it will.” She poured some of the rainwater into a tin cup, then held Sarah up and brought the cup to her lips. “Come now, dear heart.”
Just as soon as Sarah swallowed the water, it came back up.
The other girls hung over the edges of their beds, watching. Ann slipped down and dropped to her knees next to Mercy. “What can I do to help?”
Mercy patted Ann’s arm. In the short time with the girls, Mercy had come to see that Ann was their leader. Her features were dainty, and she wore her dark hair plaited into two long braids, giving her a childlike appearance. Like many of the waifs, she’d had to grow up much too soon and had an inner strength and hard edge that lent a maturity beyond her years.
“You want me to fetch the doctor?” Ann asked.