Ten

The war for independence raged to the north of us. The Imperial government wanted to squash this rebellion as quickly and as efficiently as possible; with two states rebelling, they were worried that more would follow suit. Larger, more impressive ships than ours were moving down the coast in an attempt to intimidate the people. It was our job to make sure that they did not reach any Farrapo-controlled port.

We didn’t want word to get out that we were leaving, so we worked quietly and quickly during the day, then stole out of the harbor under the cover of night. It was imperative that no one know about our mission to patrol the rebel-controlled waters off the coast of Santa Catarina and Rio Grande do Sul. If we could cut off the Imperial ships, our harbors stood a chance.

I closed my eyes and reveled in the smell of the brisk ocean air that stung my cheeks and nose. The cold didn’t bother me; it felt electrifying, like I was on the cusp of some grand adventure.

I sat up through the night, watching the sailors work until large patches of pink and gold splashed across the sky as the sun rose above the horizon. Light reflected off the water, making it hard to tell where it ended and the sky began. I pulled my shawl in closer to me as I sat in awe of the new world that surrounded me. I had never been this far away from home. Never this far from land, for that matter. This world was so much bigger than my little port in Brazil. I needed to see all of it. If only my family understood…but they chose their way, and I wasn’t going to let anyone hold me back from this. Never again.

José eased down next to me, silently slipping a hand around my waist. Together we watched as the sun finished making its ascension. Content we had seen all of the sunrise, José pulled me by the hand, leading me to our cabin.

When we were finally by ourselves, we gratefully sank into the comfort of our tiny bed. José let out a heavy sigh as he rolled over to face me. My fingers traced the long scar that ran along his neck, a reminder of the time he was shot protecting his crew in Uruguay.

“I’m sorry I made you and Rossetti fight,” I whispered. We lay in silence, listening to the creaks of the ship and the men moving about their business. “Do you regret—”

José sat up on his elbow. “I regret nothing.” He kissed my forehead. “If Rossetti and I didn’t fight about something I would think that he was ill. Now get some sleep. The life of a sailor is all the more tiring if you haven’t had any rest.”

I spent the next few days learning whatever I could from anyone who was willing to teach me, whether it was to haul up the mainsail or to brace forward. Many of the men were still hesitant to have me on the ship, but they were respectful out of their loyalty to José. After his disastrous experience with the cook who didn’t know how to fight, he’d refused to hire another cook for his ship. A number of the men took turns cooking for the crew. Knowing that this was something that I could easily help with, I worked myself into the rotation. I hadn’t told José, who was pleasantly surprised one day to find me in his galley serving our men. I handed him his bowl of stewed meat and rice with pride.