John stood on the bow of the Sparrow, bracing wind buffeting his chapped cheeks. The ship cut through the choppy sea sending spray over the bow creating fleeting rainbows as light danced through the mist. John’s pen scribbled over the pages of his journal annotating every detail of the trip to date. They had been on the ocean for eight days with a strong wind pushing them toward their frigid destination. He adjusted the collar of the thick fur lined jacket in a vain attempt to keep the cutting wind at bay.

“Better come below soon before you freeze out here,” Eric said.

“I’d hate to miss anything.”

“Don’t worry there will be plenty more nothing to watch before we reach Valka. Come, Cook made his famous stew.”

John spared a final look across the open ocean trying to commit the image to memory then followed Eric below deck. The crew was laughing over bowls of steaming stew and mugs of ale. They reflexively quieted as the captain stepped into the dining room.

John and Eric took a seat at the captain’s private dining table, a smaller table set just apart from the larger tables the crew were seated at. Jace saw the men sit and fetched two bowls of stew, filled two pewter mugs of foamy ale then delivered them to the table.

“Can I get you anything else, Captain? Lord Barrington?” Jace asked bright eyed and brimming with excitement.

“Please, just John from now on.”

Jace glanced out of the corner of his eye to the captain, who after a moment gave the slightest of nods. John may have been the financier of the expedition but he was fully aware that on this ship the captain had final say in all matters.

“Jace would you mind playing for us? The crew is a little too quiet for my liking.”

He smiled, “Aye, Sir!” and almost ran down the galley toward the crew quarters, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. Jace returned shortly, carrying an old beat up violin in one hand and bow in the other. The violin had a few chips missing and the varnish had worn away from years of use but John could see that it was lovingly taken care of. It shone with a fresh coat of polish and the horsehair strings on the bow looked new. John guessed that it was most likely the lads most prized possession.

The crew gathered around the tables began shouting out songs that John wasn’t familiar with.

“The Lonely Maiden! Ship’s Wheel! An Empty Bottle!”

Jace tucked the violin under his chin, set the bow against its strings and drew out a long beautiful note silencing the song requests. He lifted the bow and let the note hang in the air for a second before the bow danced across the strings strumming out the melody to The Lonely Maiden.

The galley came alive with music. Men stomped to the time of the song and clapped along, the bravest of them began to sing the first verse. It was about a lonely maiden that had lost her love to the sea. John thought it was odd to sing about a man dying at sea especially with how superstitious the crew was, but it wasn’t until the second verse that he understood that wasn’t what the song was about at all. The lonely maiden had lost her love to another woman, that she refers to as, “The “C” and now she makes sailors fall in love with her before stealing their hearts and wallets.

John got swept up in the music and found himself clapping along and even singing the chorus with the rest of the men.

Jace’s fingers danced along the strings and his bow struck every note with precision. The first song ended and he allowed the crew a moment to laugh at each other for being pitchy or forgetting the words, and to wet their throats with ale before beginning the next song.

He only got a few bars into the next song before something heavy struck the deck above their heads with a resounding wet thud. The song stopped and the crew fell silent, all eyes turned upward. Footsteps thundered down the stairs into the galley, “Captain! Come quick it’s Will!” Jory, the night helmsman said in a rush.

Eric jumped from his seat and took the stairs to the top deck two at a time with John on his heels. They found the bent and broken form of Will at the base of the main mast, confirming their fears.

“How did this happen?” Eric rounded on Jory, who lifted his hands in defense of himself. “He was up there fine one minute and then the next . . . “ He turned away from the body.

The ship was gently rolling over small waves, the breeze was light and constant. “Will was the best man I’ve ever seen on the rigging even in the worst conditions.”

A large man with long blonde hair and a beard with small braids woven into it muttered something in a language John wasn’t familiar with.

“What did he say?” John asked Jace.

“Sverre?” Jace asked looking at the muscle bound man. “He says that this journey is cursed. Will was one of the men that went onto the island last time.” He signed a crucifix in the air then bowed his head.

Men were covering the body in a white canvas tarp and carrying a bucket and mop over.

“Take the boy below deck, he doesn’t need to watch this,” Eric said to John. They made their way toward the stairs and were stopped by James Barstow, Lord Barstow’s middle child and eyes for the expedition. John had almost forgotten the man was even on the ship. As soon as the ship had left port he had locked himself in his private cabin and rarely came out. James looked a lot like his father before the years of gluttony and excess. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he scowled down at John. “This isn’t good.”

“These things happen. It’s an unfortunate accident.”

“Don’t expect my family to pay for his death.” He swept a glare across the crew summarily dismissing their grief and reaffirming his lofty position above them before stomping back down the stairs to his cabin.

“I thought Lords were supposed to be . . .” Jace paused, searching for the correct word. “Noble.”

“His title is just a word his family paid a lot of money for. Don’t pay him any mind,” he said putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let’s forget about it over a drink.”

The following morning the crew gathered on the deck for the internment of William Deningh. Everyone was present with the exception of James Barstow.

Captain Anderson stood over the canvas wrapped body laid out on the gangplank, removed his hat and lowered his eyes. “We all understand the risk we take everytime we set sails and challenge the sea. We know how cruel and unforgiving the sea is, but that doesn’t diminish the pain we’re all feeling right now. Will wasn’t just a crewman, he wasn’t just a sailor. He was family. He was our brother, our friend, and one of the bravest men I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. He will live on in our memory and as part of the sea.” He motioned for two men to step forward and lift the gangplank sending the body over the side of the ship and splashing down into the waves where it was quickly pulled under, vanishing into the frigid depths.

The rest of the day the crew was quiet as they went about their tasks with stiff professionalism under the grey overcast sky and ate their meals in relative silence. Jace didn’t play that evening, or the next.