Gigi’s face clouded over. “Unfortunately, no one cared. You have to remember: it was the eighteenth century. Most of the passengers were desperate to start a better life. They didn’t complain, at least not at first. But there were more people than berths to sleep in, the sanitation was horrendous, and there was not enough food for everyone.”

Ali closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to be crammed into the hull of a ship. It made her woozy; she hated confined spaces. “What happened?”

“Passengers became ill, and as a servant, it was Euphemia’s job to help care for them. She was thirteen years old, and they worked her like a dog. It’s amazing she didn’t fall sick too.”

“Thirteen years old,” Ali repeated. “I’ll be thirteen soon.”

“The sickness spread as more passengers fell ill with chills, fever, diarrhea, and vomiting. It soon became clear that many were suffering from dysentery, a disease often caused by a bacterial infection in the intestines. No surprise, considering the living conditions. And then people started to die.”

Ali shuddered. This was turning into a ghost story. “What happened to Euphemia?”

“She soldiered on, helping care for the others, until the ship was surrounded by a fog so thick it was impossible to continue, lest they run aground or ram into another ship. The captain dropped anchor, and they waited.”

“How long were they stuck in the fog?”

“Three long days. It was on the second day that Euphemia changed for the first time. She was up on deck, taking a well-deserved rest. As she leaned against the railing, staring at the gray Atlantic waters, two sailors brought up another dead body—the fourth in as many days. It was a young child wrapped in cloth and bound with crisscrossing ropes to secure the fabric so it wouldn’t fly off when the sailors tossed the body over. Though Euphemia knew that the dead were being disposed of this way, she had not seen it happen herself. The small corpse being tossed overboard was more than she could bear.”

“Did she try to stop them?”

“There are conflicting reports about what happened next. A Mrs. MacKay claimed that Euphemia jumped overboard after the corpse, a story corroborated by a Mr. MacDonald, but one of the sailors swore he saw her run to the far end of the ship.”

Ali was no longer cuddled up next to Gigi: she was sitting up, eyes wide, desperate to know how Euphemia’s story would end. “Did anyone jump in to save her?”

“It was the eighteenth century; I doubt anyone knew how to swim. One thing was certain: she was gone. The MacKenzies were more angry than sad to lose their servant, but really, no one missed her. The next day the fog cleared, and the Hector went on her way. That evening, someone spotted Euphemia on the deck, looking the picture of health.”