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“Guess he can see something we can’t with that thing,” Noah stated, gesturing to the spyglass that the man held to his eye.
“I wonder how far away that means we are.” McKenzie leaned on the railing. “I’m gonna go find us some food. I’ll check the rations.”
“I’m going with you,” Noah added, “Remember last time how that guy in the galley got a little too friendly with you.”
McKenzie nodded and they disappeared back down below the deck toward the galley. I’d catch up with them in a minute, but first, I wanted to try “painting” one last time, just to clear my head for the new day. I walked back to the spot on the deck where I’d painted the waves on the parchment before. The dye stains were barely still there, and I was impressed the colors had lasted through the rainstorm. I laid out my last piece of parchment and sat down, mixing a handful of dye from my pocket with some water on the deck. It made just enough paint for me to outline the shape of a message bottle among the waves. But as I formed the picture, I felt the ship rise with the crest of a high-rolling wave. Even sitting down, I had to grab the railing on the hull to steady myself and catch my balance.
As the ship came crashing back down, it nosedived toward the ocean with quite a splash, sending seawater lapping onto the deck and crashing over my artwork. As I watched the dye and spices fade into the water around them, I suddenly felt an intense fury—a reaction that was way too disproportionate for the situation. I locked my gaze onto the running colors as they bled off the parchment, onto the deck, and leaked off the side of the ship.
The longer I stared at the destruction, the more I suddenly felt that dark siren essence rising within me. And then I noticed the colors reforming into the blotchy excuse of a picture they were before. I watched the seawater trickling off the edge of the ship, but as I followed it with my eyes, it changed course right in front of me, flowing opposite the direction of gravity and returning to the outline of the painting. And I blinked, nearly stumbling backward at my own shock.
The water ran in reverse in little streams, following the path I’d laid out for it in my head, taking form of an image back on the parchment solely by command of my thoughts. I was controlling the seawater.
Suddenly it struck me as to why I’d always been so easily able to work with watercolors. I’d tried painting with acrylics and oils, but they never felt quite right to me. And now I knew why. I’d always had power over watercolors. I could tell the water how far to run and where to stop before it bled into a section I didn’t want it to…all just by thinking about it. But it never made sense until today, when I painted an entire picture on the deck of a ship without touching it.
I ran to the edge of the ship and stared down at the water below. Could I control that too? I concentrated with every ounce of strength in me, drilling my focus into the water just as intensely as I did when I painted. But nothing happened. I wanted the water to rise up like a waterspout. But to my disappointment, nothing changed.
Controlling the sea must be something I’d have to learn to master. But for now, it wasn’t happening. I tried my best to compose myself as I leaned against the edge of the ship. It had only been a few days, here, yet I felt as though I was losing it. Why had none of this happened back home?
I shook my thoughts away and pushed out the siren voice inside. To regain my senses, I hurried to find McKenzie and Noah. I followed the sound of crewmen singing sea shanties near the front of the ship. Mingling amongst them was McKenzie, and Noah was gripping the rope rigging attached to the masts and appeared to be standing amongst the crew as they worked to change the sails and direct the ship to land.
As I neared the crew, the gritty, salt-dried voices singing the jolly lyrics of their shanty became clearer. I caught a better view of Noah. And I couldn’t believe the way he looked. He was actually…smiling. And as I stepped closer and closer, I chuckled at his musical addition to the song.
“Is he…beatboxing to a sea shanty?” I asked, stepping up beside McKenzie, who handed me some type of dry bread and a cup of water.
“Yeah,” she laughed, nodding toward the crew. “They love it.”
As I giggled at the scene before me, I thought about how grateful I was to be trapped back in time with two friends. Of course, I’d give almost anything if I could’ve somehow kept them out of all this, but in some selfish way, just for that fleeting moment, I let myself be glad that they were here.
The next moment, a dark scowl from across the deck darkened my mood. Bellamy emerged from his cabin, his heavy boots announcing his presence as he trudged across the wooden floor. He strode past me, his elegant captain’s coat drifting behind him, and his icy gaze fixed straight ahead toward the open water.
When he turned to address the crew, the shanties stopped, and everyone became so quiet that all I could hear was the gentle flapping of the sails overhead. His eyes swept over me as he spoke, and I could tell he was intentionally avoiding looking my way. He clearly remembered last night. And he was still upset, understandably.
“We make port at Nassau in two hours!” He shouted. “Continue to man the rigging on the mizzen. See if you can’t get some more speed out of these sails.” His eyes fell on me as he began to walk toward the helm. “I want to get this time waste over with as fast as possible.”
“Bellamy,” I tried to call out to him, but he kept walking. “Bellamy, please.”
When he halted and tensed, a small flicker of hope lit up in me. I expected him to turn around, but he only looked back over his shoulder. “That’s two hours until you and your friends disembark from my ship. And then I never want to see your faces again.”
“You’re going to leave us in Nassau?” I asked.
“Be lucky I don’t leave you dangling at the end of the plank.”
“What would it mean if I said I was sorry? How can I make you trust me again?”
“You can’t. I know the kind of thing you are. I’ve seen what you’re like.”
“Well then you know more than me, because I still don’t understand who I am.” I threw my hands out to the side in a defeated motion.
“Ask the woman who keeps my father captive at sea. I’m sure she can help you hone your craft.” Before I could even think of a response, Bellamy turned his back to me and stormed to the helm.
Shaking away the frustration I felt with Bellamy, I explained to McKenzie what I’d just witnessed with my watery painting.
“That’s awesome! You can control water?” Her eyes lit up a bright cerulean as the waters surrounding her. They contrasted against her freckled pale skin, which by now had reddened significantly in the sun.
“I think,” I said. “But just small amounts for now. I want to try practicing more though, with the time we have left.”
McKenzie agreed and together we headed to the least crowded section of the boat.
