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Show Page 4 her live and I shall be ever so good. I shall be ever-so- good." All day, as the storm waned and the sea became calmer, Aunt Mary tossed and turned on her pallet. Once she opened her eyes and looked at me, and for a brief moment I thought she was well. But it was my dead mother she was seeing, not me. "Catherine," Aunt Mary said, smiling a wretched smile that distressed me sorely. "Let's go out into the garden. •Tis much cooler out there. The house is so warm this time of year-" If only there was a garden for her instead of this squalid ship, I thought, while I held a piggin of the thick, brackish water to her cracked lips. But the water only dribbled down her chin. I longed to give her some good beer or stout ale, but the barrels of beer on board had run dry after only four weeks and even by then the beer had soured. All during the long afternoon Anne sat beside me. I thanked God she and I had become close friends soon after the Jonathan sailed from London and down the Thames. There was not a soul on board who cheered me more than Anne Bell. Though I was only fifteen, three years younger than she, my heart spoke to hers as though we had known each other all our lives. Knowing she was near brought me much comfort. "Let me watch a while," Anne said. "You try to rest. You will become ill, too, if you get overwearied." |