Chapter 13
Alf and Bridie weren’t the only ones arguing. By midweek, the wind had dropped and Lady Sophia reeled to the bark of her ship’s officers. No matter how many times they dropped the speed log over the side, or how often the sailors set and reset the sails, it made no difference. They weren’t going anywhere.
All day, Rhys sat on the windless main deck, his skin blistering. At night, when the sun dipped its fiery orb into the sea, he found sleep impossible. Even with windsocks set up over the hatchways, they couldn’t keep the air circulating. He heard moans as he padded through steerage in the early hours of the morning, children whimpering. As one windless day gave way to another, the bickering became hostility.
Patrick O’Malley, one of the Irish lads, punched his brother on the
