The ocean had raged far beyond what Adam had imagined. Enormous waves surrounded Duquesne de Menneville’s ships and tossed them about like fragile toys. Despite a change of course, nothing could be done to avoid it.

The storm rumbled, and a torrential downpour fell upon them, as if some sadistic higher power had decided that the waves crashing over them weren’t drenching them enough.

The waves created massive splashes as they collided with the hulls, positioned head-on to reduce the impact, and covered the deck like vast white carpets. All of this water, when it didn’t drain off the ship through the many side openings, seeped into the lower decks through the ventilation hatches designed to allow men to see and breathe.

All the gunports were shut tight to avoid a disaster like the ones that sometimes happened. It took just one opening to doom them all. Once the ship was too heavy with seawater, nothing could save it. That’s why many men were sent to the pumps to drain the water accumulating at the bottom of the Océan.

The task was exhausting, especially since they weren’t allowed to stop. They were regularly replaced.

“Lieutenant Boucher, your turn!”

“Yes!”

His rank meant nothing in the current circumstances.

These pumps, located near the mainmast, looked like large iron cranks. Five men were needed at each crank, and there were four on this ship. So twenty men were constantly required to pump all the water out of the hold.

“Come on! Give it some muscle!”

“Hurgh!”

His arms screamed, as did all the muscles in his back, because even with five men, it was hard work. He could feel the strong resistance in the mechanism, which wasn’t that complicated to understand.

Below them, there were large tubes plunging down to the bilge, the lowest point of the ship. Inside these tubes were chains, with iron and leather disks at regular intervals, sized to fit the tube’s diameter.

When these disks sank into the water, they trapped it inside the tube and lifted it with them. At deck level, well above the waterline, this water flowed out into a second tube, a horizontal one leading outside.

When all the pumps were running, they could push out more than a thousand liters of seawater!

SPLASH!

Another wave crashed over the deck, generously soaking not only those outside but also those below.

“Damn it!”

“Pump harder!”

Despite the closed hatches and ventilation grilles, seawater kept seeping aboard the Océan.

“Faster!”

Drenched from head to toe, Adam did his best, calling upon all his muscles to work even a little faster. But it was no easy task, especially with the ship being tossed around in every direction.

Around him, lanterns swung on their hooks, and men clung to anything they could find.

BOOM!

“What was that? A cannon shot? Are we under attack?”

“Idiot! We’re in the middle of a storm! No one would be crazy enough to attack another ship! We can’t even open the gunports without getting a faceful of seawater! That’s just the storm!”

Adam gripped the long metal bar, hard, cold, and black, tighter still, and without stopping, began to pray like never before.

My God, please, let us all make it out alive! I can’t die here, you know that! I-I… I really have to get home!

He had been through some fierce storms in the past, facing whatever the future held for all these people fighting with everything they had against nature, but this was the first time he had felt so endangered. Maybe it was because he was aboard a ship, and his safety depended on it?

Please, my God, if you hear me and are truly all-powerful and merciful, take me back home! Bring me back to my family, to my time! I promise I’ll go to church every Sunday—no, every day!

His only answer was another wave, as powerful as it was cold. Water poured down from the deck through every opening it could find and streamed into the hold. Someone opened a hatch, letting in some light and a lot of seawater.

A man in a long black coat, drenched as if he had decided to dive into the ocean before coming to see them, descended and nearly slipped when another wave crashed over them.

“Are you alright?!”

“Y-yes! I’m fine! And you?!”

It was only then that Adam realized it was Lieutenant Louis Lenoir.

“We’re doing our best, but it might not be enough, sir!”

“Keep doing your best, you’re doing a great job!”

His voice carried all his fears and a sense of urgency.

He didn’t stay long and went further below to inspect the hold.

“Focus! No slowing down!”

Fuck! I’d at least like to know if we’re being effective! Is the water level going down with this thing?!

“Shift change! Good work, everyone! Go get some rest!”

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Adam gave up his spot to another and let out a deep sigh of relief. He crossed paths with Lieutenant Louis Lenoir as he came back up from inspecting the hull, the cargo, and monitoring the water level.

“How’s it down there?”

“Lots of water, but it’s manageable, thanks to the pumps. You should try to get some rest. It’s not over yet.”

The young man could only nod obediently and take shelter with the rest of the crew.

During a storm, there wasn’t much to be done. Everything that could be done had already been taken care of. They had reefed the sails, securely tied down anything that could move, checked the cannons and gunports, activated the pumps, and up on deck, they made sure the ropes held and the ship stayed on course.

Adam walked like a drunkard, zigzagging between obstacles, avoiding the busy sailors as much as he could. The floor seemed to shift, unstable, almost alive.

The wood creaked so much it was easy to believe the ship would split in two on a wave.

“Shit!”

A larger wave pushed him back several steps, causing him to bump into a thick wooden post. A metallic sound echoed, quickly followed by a sharp pain in the back of his head.

“Ouch! Fucking lantern!”

He put a hand where the lantern had hit him, but there was no blood. He groaned and cursed a second time as the ship descended the large wave, sending him five steps forward.

Finally, he made it to the lower deck, where hundreds of men were huddled together, all those who weren’t needed elsewhere. The moods were varied: some tried to get a little sleep, while others prayed or chatted.

Adam collapsed into a corner, his back against the sturdy wooden wall, which vibrated under the assault of the waves.

His muscles trembled from the exhaustion and tension accumulated at the pump. His stomach, empty and churning, was sending all kinds of warning signals. If he hadn’t already vomited everything overboard, he would have carried a bucket with him.

His face was pale and covered in sweat. Adam tried to calm itself, ignoring the ship’s movement.

Hurgh! I-I can’t take this anymore! I’m tired of vomiting! I’ve already thrown everything up!

But that unpleasant sensation wouldn’t leave him. As much as the fear of a shipwreck, that gut-wrenching urge to bend over a basin—or any container—and empty his stomach a little more clung to him like barnacles on a ship’s hull.

He was exhausted.

Despite the situation, he tried to close his eyes. He forced himself to think of calming things.

Mom, Dad… Aurore, Plume, Ludo.

He perfectly envisioned his family in a perfect scene that might have really taken place. Adam pictured his sister and father playing a racing game on their new TV, all smiles and making grand gestures as if it could help their respective cars turn faster. He imagined his mother, Alicia, vigorously brushing Ludo, their Labrador, who was thrilled and exposing his belly under the curious gaze of Plume, who for years no longer deserved that name.

Imagining himself back with them, in the living room near the dining table, a solitary tear rolled down his cheek.

Seeing them again, even if only in his mind, brought him as much comfort as it did pain.

Their smiles merged with others—both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. There were only two, but they looked at him with the same tenderness. Upon closer inspection, the man’s smile was very different from that of his father, Guillaume.

For some strange reason, he wasn’t surprised to see these two people, standing side by side as if they were waiting to be photographed.

François’s parents. They look so different from my parents.

The father—François’s father, Charles Boucher—was simply dressed in this image, without the austere appearance he had in most of the memories that had appeared to Adam in dreams. On the contrary, he had the air of a loving father, armed with immense patience.

His dark hair, tied back with a leather lace, revealed a wide forehead marked by a few lines of worry. His narrow eyes seemed to conceal many thoughts, and his cheeks, many trials.

His mother—or rather François’s mother—was stunning despite the years. She looked easily ten years younger than her actual age. Her face was very beautiful, especially her eyes, as blue as the sea. In her gentle smile, there was an expression of all her love. She placed a hand on her belly.

Wait, what?! She—she was pregnant?! No, that’s just my imagination! She… this isn’t a memory! Is it?

A loud rumble followed by a terrible sound of wood creaking made him suddenly open his eyes. A thin string of drool had started to trickle down his chin.

“Ah, I’d fallen asleep!”

So that was possibly a memory of François?!

Around him, nothing had changed. The deck was still a chaotic mess, though they had secured everything that could be, and the sailors had begun praying louder. Their deep voices, though not grim, blended into a strange harmony.

Adam watched them and supposed it couldn’t hurt to join them silently, hoping to be heard by God. In case his prayer might reach the Almighty faster, he clasped his hands together and began to murmur.

A bright flash briefly illuminated the deck.

BOOM!

Just two seconds after the flash, a deafening sound similar to a cannon shot shook him to his core.

“You alright, kid? You hanging in there?”

Adam looked up and saw that the person speaking to him was Michel Renier, the tall sailor with tattoos.

“I guess it could be worse,” Adam groaned. “I’ve thrown up everything, so I should be fine until the end of this storm.”

“Good! It’s important to look on the bright side!” he said with a huge smile.

The young lieutenant raised an eyebrow and stared at the sailor for a long moment.

“How can you be so calm? Aren’t you scared?”

“Hahaha! Of course I’m scared! Who wouldn’t be in the middle of a storm?”

“Well, you hide it well… You really don’t seem like it.”

The man sat down next to Adam and settled into a comfortable position.

“You know, kid, I’ve seen a few storms in my time. Some even bigger than this one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I learned something very important: being scared doesn’t help. You’re in a storm, you can’t do anything about it. That’s it. You just have to wait for it to pass. The sea is like that. Sometimes it’s as calm as a lake, without a breath of wind, and then suddenly, she gets angry and shows you that she can swallow you whole.”

Adam nodded slowly, thinking he understood what the sailor with the strong arms blackened by the tattoos was trying to say. There were mermaids, an anchor, a compass rose, a ship sailing through a storm, and more.

“Do… do you think we’ll make it?” Adam asked, hoping for a firm, reassuring answer.

“If she allows it,” the sailor said, his face turning serious, almost grim. “I’d like to say that our ship is invincible and all that, but nothing’s invincible. You see, you should never believe you’re in control out here. The sea is unpredictable, but in the end, it’s always her who decides. No matter your efforts, the size of the ship, or the quality of the crew, if the sea wants to swallow you, then so be it. That’s why worrying doesn’t help. All you can do is hold on and wait for the storm to pass. Even if the sea is furious, she never stays angry for long.”

Adam listened in silence, and when the sailor finished, he couldn’t tell if he should feel reassured or not.

Suddenly, the ship dangerously tilted to the right, where Adam and Michel were sitting. They saw the sailors rolling to that side.

“Damn, that was a big one!”

“Hurry, get back up! Distribute the weight!”

“Check the knots! Watch the cannons!”

The sailors ran frantically to the other side of the ship to try to right it, if only a little. It was a strange sight.

A few hours later, everything was quiet aboard the Océan. It was as if they had all been caught in an illusion.

Slowly, the sailors climbed onto the main deck and were greeted by an astonishing sight. The sky ahead of them was a brilliant blue, while behind them it was pitch black.

Their ship seemed intact, and the rest of the squadron was there, though a bit scattered.

A large hand rested on Adam’s shoulder.

“You see, kid. No reason to worry.”