My slumber was interrupted by the clattering of a padlock being jostled about. I snapped upright to see that Carmen was fumbling near the door, and when she met my eyes, she didn’t even give me a chance to ask what she was doing.

“Storm coming,” she said shortly.

“What?”

“I saw it, it’s getting closer. You know what to do, don’t you? If I let you out, you’ll know what to do?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, cranking the key in the lock until it popped open.

My eyes scanned her face. I could see that she was frightened, and I wagered a good deal of that had to be because of the storm—and some of it still had to be me. I nodded slowly, trying to recover my wits.

“We’ll have to move fast since it’s just the two of us,” I said, “and you’ll have to do as I say. Do you know how far off it is?”

“No,” she said, taking the lock out of the door. “Come up and see for yourself.”

I was surprised by how easily she let the door swing open. The musket was slung over her back, and when her hands were free again, she tugged at the strap absentmindedly. I hadn’t the time, though, to marvel over this for long. I supposed it had come down to this—that dying at my hands was more desirable than drowning. I felt a little flattered by that, but didn’t dwell on the feeling. “Okay,” was all I said.

She stood aside, allowing me to push past her. “The sun is down,” she said, but I hadn’t even thought to worry about that. I was already moving toward the hatch, with her trailing behind me.

“That’s good,” I said. “Did you douse the stove?”

“I did,” she replied.

“The hens?”

“Locked away.”

“And you’ve shut the doors to the cabins and such?”

“As many as I could remember to do.”

Smart girl. I knew she was already, but all this would save precious time. “How’s the wheel?”

“I tied it in place the first day I—we—were alone” she replied, “but I don’t know if I did it right.”

“I’ll check it,” I said. “Is everything on deck still loose?”

“I didn’t tie it down, if that’s what you mean. I thought about it but the sun had mostly set-“

“Let’s not worry about that, then,” I said. I climbed up toward the deck for the first time in weeks, bracing myself to see dark storm clouds bearing down on us in seconds. And I did—but first I saw stars. The clouds lay a good distance out portside. That was good. That was better than I’d thought.

“Well?” Carmen asked from below me, having not followed me up onto deck just yet.

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” I answered. I stepped out onto the deck completely and she soon joined me as I looked up at the sails and considered our options. Two masts. Three sails each. I didn’t know how quickly the storm was coming, or how bad it would be, so I’d just have to make a best guess. “We need to reef the sails,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Secure them. Can you help me do that?” I turned to her, suddenly worried. I couldn’t do it alone. “You’ll need to climb the ratlines—help me pull the sails up and tie them secure. Do you think that’s something you can do?”

She looked up at the sails as well. “All the way to the top?” she wondered, and I heard a tremor in her voice.

“No, not the top. We’d do best to focus on the two lower ones,” I had to catch myself before I used terms I was certain would only confuse her and waste precious time. Forget mainsail, topsail, fore and aft. I needed her to understand quickly. “We’ll start at the back and move forward.”

“I can do that,” she said stiltedly. Shakily.

I gave her a hard look. “Can you?” I pressed.

She looked back toward me. I could tell she was unsure how to react to how I was speaking to her, but the urgency was not lost on her at all. She nodded sharply. “I can do that,” she said much more firmly.

“Good. Come on then.”

I didn’t even have to ask her to abandon the musket. She seemed to realize quickly that it was too unwieldy for her to climb with. She stashed it below quickly, and despite her lack of weapon, she still followed my instructions without question as we ascended the mast.

We scaled the ratlines as quickly as we could. I put her ahead of me—it would do neither of us any good if I got to the top before her, and this way if she slipped I could catch her. Despite never having done this before—despite her hesitation—she did not hesitate once she found herself climbing. Hand over fist, she ascended with determination, and I was right behind her.

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“You go to the left,” I said once we had reached the main yard. “Feet on the rope. One hand on the yard at all times.”

“All right,” she said without looking at me. She hesitated a moment, and I saw her start to look down.

“Don’t look down,” I told her.

“Right,” she repeated, and her head snapped up.

Slowly, slower than I admit I would have liked, she made her way away from the mast. I stopped her before she could get out of earshot. The wind was picking up, I could feel it. I chose my words carefully as I gave her a quick summary on what I would need her to do. There was not a question from Carmen, just a nod after each instruction. Her eyes stayed deliberately fixed on my face as though a single glance anywhere else would cause her to fall instantly.

“Don’t think,” I said as my final advice, “just do.”

“Don’t think,” she repeated back to me, and then more to herself, she finished my statement, “just do.”

And so we did. Because we had to. Every second was excruciating. Though it was like second nature to me at this point, I was used to more hands, and less pressure. What would have taken mere moments before now seemed to take an eternity. The storm crept ever closer. I risked a peek toward it—yes, certainly closer, bearing down upon us at a frightening speed. It occurred to me that we may not have time to finish our work before we were caught in it.

I did not let myself think too hard on that matter.

“Don’t think, just do.” I told myself, and tied off my final knot. I motioned to Carmen—down again, and to the foremast. She nodded back expressionlessly. As quick as I believed she could manage, she made her way back to the mast and began to descend. Before following her I went to check her knots—and ended up redoing every single one of them. Nonetheless, they held well enough that my job was made easier. I could not have gotten far without her.

I got to the deck and she was already climbing toward our second destination. If there was one thing I had certainly grown to admire over our stay together, it was her unyielding willingness to do what must be done, and to do it promptly. I was grateful that what ‘must be done’ was no longer shooting me in the head, though. I quickly followed her, catching up only as she reached the yard and began to move out onto it again.

“Same as before?” she asked. “I saw you had to redo my knots.”

“It’s faster than trying to teach you, I think. Just do your best. If we survive this, then I’ll show you how to do them right.”

“Right.”

“Quickly, now.”

We split again and repeated the same actions as before—drawing up the sails as best we could, and securing them. It went a bit faster this time, but still not as fast as I would like. I did marvel at the fact that my muscles had not begun to burn. I was out of practice, out of shape, and hungry—but I knew that the creature I was born from had superhuman strength. I had seen what it was capable of. So perhaps that was a lucky side effect of this curse that I now bore. No need for breath nor the beat of a heart, yet still gifted with the strength of an ox. I made the most of it.

Even with this strength and Carmen’s growing assuredness, we were still unlucky enough that the storm fell upon us. The light of the moon faded, making things even more difficult, and then I felt it on my nose—the first drop of rain. I heard Carmen shout something, though I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the wind and the rain as it began to fall faster and faster. Probably she had sworn. I certainly shared the sentiment.

“Don’t think,” I muttered, and continued.

I was glad she had woken me now that I could feel the effects of the storm. I wasn’t sure how much danger we were in but I knew it would have been significantly more if we hadn’t achieved what little we were doing now. As I secured the last of my side, closest to my mast I saw Carmen doing the same.

“Head down,” I shouted over the wind, “I’ll check your knots and be down after you.”

“All right!” she called back, and began to descend once more.

Re-securing her knots was a sight more difficult in the dark, the wind, and the rain. I secured those furthest from the mast first, but as I worked my way inward, I realized I had run out of time. Her knots would hold—they’d have to.

The rope under my feet was slick and wet, but I managed to maintain my footing and began to descend. I looked down—Carmen might have even managed to reach the deck in the time it took me to get this far.

My stomach dropped.

I saw her dangling, hanging by one arm that was tangled at a wrenched angle in the ratlines, grasping the rope so hard that her knuckles were white. I could not make out her face through the rain that now fell in sheets around us, soaking through the tatters of my clothes and sticking my hair to my face. I could only see the outline of her form, and then the lightning flashed.

I had never seen fear like that before. Perhaps it was what my own face had shown, though, the night I first died.

I knew immediately that I could not let her meet that same fate. No, even more than that, the thought never occurred to me. Don’t think, just do. It was more true now than ever as I sprang into action.

I descended quickly to be beside her, careful not to shake her loose with my movements. With one arm, I reached through the tangled, slick lines and wrapped my hand around her forearm, grasping it tight. As I pulled her up, even in the rain and even with one hand, I found her lighter than I had expected. Perhaps it was that strength again. I thanked God, for the first time, for my curse. At least what had doomed me could save her.

As she neared safety, I could hear that she was crying out in pain. Her arm hung at an odd angle still—her shoulder was not properly in its socket. Lifting her further, I gave her room for her free arm to grasp at the ropes. When she grabbed hold, I felt her weight lighten even more as she pulled her legs up and began hook them through the lines as well—

And that, I’m afraid, is the last thing I remember before I lost my own balance. I had been so worried for her safety, I reached out to stabilize her with the hand I had been using to keep myself secure. It was a stupid move, but as I have made clear, I am indeed a stupid man. I thought myself strong enough, secure enough, to keep my balance without my hands. Unfortunately I hadn’t the slightest idea the size of the wave we were about to hit.

More than slipping, I was thrown from the lines. Gracefully I had let go of her before it happened, or we both would have plummeted together, and I would have been her cause of death in an entirely different way than the one she had feared.

I do not know if I cried out, or if I passed out before I made impact. I didn’t even know for certain that I hadn’t knocked her from her newly-found perch and brought her down as well. All I knew was that I was falling, the air rushing past me, whistling in my ears, and then suddenly I wasn’t falling anymore.