“Yes, I’ve gathered that. Now put the damned coat on. Or, no—forget it. Let’s just go inside. No one else is stupid enough to be out in this wind.”

   Slowly, I lifted my head and gazed around. The sea roiled with angry waves, so dark they almost looked black. I’d been steadying myself and adjusting to the ship’s increased rocking without even realizing it.

   “How did it get so windy so quickly?” I asked. “It was calm when we came out. I couldn’t believe how well your hair was staying in place.”

   “You were studying my hair?”

   “You tell me to study everything.”

   But I didn’t feel nearly as flippant as I sounded. My skin crawled. The change in weather really had come on too suddenly. Lightning forked above us, and a huge wave hit the boat with such force that we—and some nearby sailors—had to scramble for footing. Grant caught me, keeping an arm around me until the deck steadied again.

   Agostino ran up to us and said in Sirminican, “The captain wants all the passengers back in their cabins.”

   “But it’s just another storm, right?” I asked. Rain began to fall. “You deal with these all the time.”

   “Just get back to your room.” He scurried off to the other side of the ship.

   “I don’t need to know Sirminican to understand that,” Grant said. “Let’s go.”

   The rain came in sheets now, and the wind was so fierce that Grant had to fight to open the door that would let us climb below. It slammed shut as soon as he released it inside, but I could still hear the howling on the other side of the thick wood.

   “I’m going to try to find out just how bad this is,” Grant said. “But I’d get ready for a long night if I were you.”

   “Wait,” I called as he began heading for his corridor. “Grant, I . . .” He paused and glanced back. He didn’t look mad anymore. I couldn’t tell what he was. And I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I simply handed him the coat.

   “Be careful, Mirabel.” He vanished around a corner.

   Back in my wing, I found my cabin empty and discovered that most of the girls had congregated in our common room. “Now, now, it’s just a little rough water,” Miss Bradley was telling them. The ship was heaving wildly now, and at least one girl gasped or screamed each time we rocked. “It’ll smooth out soon.”

   “Where’s Adelaide?” I demanded.

   Caroline glanced around. “Maybe she’s in your cabin.”

   “No, I was just there.”

   “Just wait. I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” said Miss Bradley.

   But I slipped out of the door as soon as her back was turned, just in case Adelaide and I had unknowingly crossed paths. No luck. My room was still empty. I headed up to the deck again, making slow progress as the ship lurched. Even knowing what to expect outside, it was still a shock to fight my way out the door and immediately be slammed back by the gale. The storm had escalated far more than I’d expected, the rain now lashing my face. Wiping water out of my eyes, I stepped into the deluge on shaky legs and crept across the deck.

   No one would have guessed it was only late afternoon. Dark, menacing clouds churned above, and it was hard to tell where they ended and the sea began. The rain obscured vision even more, and the only things I could clearly see were bolts of lightning that were almost instantly chased by thunder.

   I squinted around, trying to find Adelaide. The lavender dress she’d worn this morning would have normally made her stand out. But everyone’s clothes were soaked and stuck to their body, making color difficult to discern. And everyone on deck was in motion. It was all crew as far as I could tell, and they frantically went about their work, hurrying to secure the ship as the captain and first mate struggled to be heard above the noise.

   I moved among them, barely noticed by the panicked sailors, and kept searching for Adelaide. My shoes slipped on the wet wood, and the wind made movement even more difficult as I completed an unwieldy circuit of the deck. No sign of Adelaide. No sign of any passengers. Only I was foolish enough to face the elements, and it was time I got out of everyone’s way.

   As I turned toward one of the doors leading below, I heard a cry off to my left. A sailor—practically a boy, younger than me—had just lost his grip on a rope that connected to one of the sails. The wind snatched the rope away, causing it to flutter wildly as the sail above us unfurled. He strained to reach the dancing line but wasn’t quite tall enough. I hurried to his side and tried my luck. I was the right height, but the rope’s wild movement made it hard to catch. It slipped through my fingers several times before I was finally able to grasp its end.

   The mast above us was one of the smaller ones, but I could see it bending as the wind filled its sails. Other sails were being reefed, and if this one wasn’t brought in soon, the mast would snap from the force of the storm. I handed the rope to the boy, who began pulling at it to no avail. I heard a crack from above, but the mast stayed put. Grabbing hold of the rope, I tried to add my weight, but the wet fibers kept slipping through my fingers.

   “Out of the way,” a voice barked. A large, burly sailor had stridden up to us and snatched the rope away. It slipped in his hands too, but his grip was surer, his muscles stronger. As he drew the sail in, the strain on the mast eased up. When he’d reeled in enough, he tied the rope up securely and hurried off to his next task without a word to us.

   The young sailor gave me a quick nod of thanks and started to follow the other man when we both heard the cracking sound again. A yard broke free of the mast and began to fall. I pushed my young companion out of the way but wasn’t quite fast enough. I slipped and fell backward on the deck, near its edge. The beam came down on my foot, and it was only through the most incredible luck that the part that landed on me was slightly hollowed out—big enough to save my foot and ankle from being crushed by the beam’s full force, but not big enough to let my leg slide out. I was trapped.