Louis, standing at the bow of the Foudroyant, watched with emotion the warships that made up Duquesne de Menneville's squadron. Although they had survived the terrible storm, they had sustained damage and heavy losses.

The officers had given the order to slow down to allow the ships that had drifted off course to return, repair what had been broken, and wait for the missing vessels.

Unfortunately, after three days, there was little hope left for the latter.

It was a true tragedy.

So, two ships carrying troops and supplies had disappeared, likely sunk. This meant the human losses would amount to approximately two hundred men. Along with the horses and cannons... this could cost the Marshal-Duke dearly once in the New World.

On board this ship, the men were divided on how to react. While all the sailors were relieved to be alive after such an ordeal, there was a somber mood on the ship, as if death had knocked on their door.

In a way, that’s exactly what had happened, as three of their own had been swept away by the sea. Jacques LeGoff, thirty-one years old, father of three children, sailor; Denis Carrier, twenty-seven years old, father of two children, sailor; and Eugène-Alexandre du Perret-Courtois, sixteen years old, aspirant de marine.

Although young Eugène-Alexandre du Perret-Courtois came from the nobility, unlike the vast majority of the crew, they mourned his loss just as much as the other two. On board the Foudroyant, they were all sailors.

In their eyes, he was much more than just a kid in training to become an officer in the King of France's navy. Because they formed a large family united by salt and sea, he was like a little brother, gone far too soon.

The soldiers of Richelieu, who had boarded a few weeks ago, were still struggling to grasp this mindset, this philosophy. However, this harrowing experience had made them realize how vulnerable they were at sea and how quickly death could come for you, almost as swiftly as a cannonball.

Louis, leaning his shoulder against the sturdy wooden wall and letting the wind blow through his hair, slightly turned his head to the side and addressed Anne-Sophie without looking at her.

"Hey, doesn't it bother you? I mean, aren't you sad?"

"Sad? About what?" asked Anne-Sophie in a deeper voice than usual, her face set as if she wore a neutral plaster mask.

"Well, I don't know. For the dead?"

"Seriously? After what we've been through in Prussia? If I had to be sad for everyone who’s been killed since the start of this war, I'd never stop! It doesn’t bother me much, that's all. It's better this way. Otherwise, it would drive you mad. You should do the same."

"I see."

Louis crossed his arms over his chest and returned his gaze to the horizon. In front of him, the sun was very low, painting the sky with soft colors.

They were right at the bow of the ship, practically over the void. While Anne-Sophie tended to her natural needs in a cramped space exposed to the wind and the spray from below, Louis kept watch.

There were eight places there, but all were empty except for the one used by the young woman disguised as a man. They were just rectangular wooden boxes, each with two large circular holes on top.

Despite the sea breeze, the smell was unpleasant.

She had positioned herself as far away as possible, her back against the mât de Beaupré, the mast that passed above the figurehead.

"COUGH COUGH COUGH!"

She started coughing, but Louis didn’t turn around or ask if she was okay. He knew she had fallen ill because of the storm, and she wasn’t the only one. With any luck, it would pass quickly, but the illness seemed stubborn.

"I'm done," she finally said in a hoarse voice, passing by Louis with a dragging step.

Her face was a bit flushed, and her breath slightly labored. Dark circles had formed under her shadowy black eyes, which she seemed to struggle to keep open.

Louis gave her a strange look, keeping his thoughts to himself, and decided to leave his post. He followed her without noticing that someone was watching them from the other side of the ship.

"Hey, An... um, Pierre?"

"What?" she growled.

"You still haven't told me why you enlisted," Louis remarked as he adjusted his disheveled blonde hair.

"Oh, that. Why does it interest you so much?"

Anne-Sophie shrugged and turned to the young man who, despite his pitiful appearance after the last few months, seemed to be in better shape than she was. She leaned against the bulwark between two cannons and looked out at the horizon.

"I come from a modest family. My father owns a bit of land north of Sedan, barely enough to support us. But the harvests haven’t been good, and my father needed money to repay a debt. Since I was of the minimum age to join the king’s armies without his consent, I signed up when the regiment was heading towards Valenciennes."

"To Valenciennes? So, you enlisted before me," Louis said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"You enlisted after the colonel's wedding? Cough cough!" asked the young woman, overcome by another fit of coughing.

"Yeah," the soldier confirmed with a hint of nostalgia. "Me and my friends, we all enlisted on the same day. May 26, 1756, in Saint-Omer."

"Ah, I see. You missed something."

“The wedding, you mean?”

“Yes, we ate very well that day. The entire town was invited for the occasion. Anyway, I didn’t enlist for glory, honor, or whatever. It was for the money. Everything I earned, I sent to my parents, but it was so little. I was hoping to make more, maybe even strike it rich when the war broke out. Ha! What a joke! A pittance of a wage! I would’ve earned more staying home!”

Louis could only understand her anger and frustration. When they enlisted, they were made grand promises. Despite all the risks they had taken, he didn’t feel like he’d covered himself in glory, and he certainly hadn’t become any richer. All he had to show for it were a few scars and bad dreams.

“Jesus Christ! And now they’re sending us to the New World to risk our lives!”

He couldn’t reply to the young woman’s complaint. So, he remained silent at her side, watching the horizon.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The days passed fairly quickly, each one blending into the next, and little by little, the young woman began to open up to Louis.

They talked about their lives before the army, their daily routines, their families, usually isolating themselves in a quiet corner of the ship to avoid being disturbed and, more importantly, to avoid being overheard. Anne-Sophie’s health had eventually improved, which was fortunate. After all, she couldn’t risk seeing the doctor, as he might ask her to remove her shirt.

If that happened, it would have been a disaster, as her true identity would have been revealed.

That night was particularly windy, though nothing compared to the storm they had endured. The wind howled, and the sails flapped above their heads like sheets being vigorously shaken at a window.

Louis and Anne-Sophie were isolated on the foretop of the mainmast. Surrounded by taut, swaying ropes in the wind, they spoke softly, far from prying eyes and ears.

The sky, partially covered, revealed a multitude of stars and, at times, a generous half-moon. A shooting star passed silently from west to east, but it quickly disappeared like an illusion.

Normally, Anne-Sophie was on watch and Louis at rest, but he had decided to keep her company by joining her in the rigging. Below them, a few sailors moved about, barely illuminated by the moon and lanterns. The sea, slightly choppy but not rough, gleamed softly and made a gentle sound as their ship met each wave.

The young woman, her face barely visible in the dim light, gripped a rope tightly in her trembling hands. Up here, every movement of the ship seemed amplified. One could really feel the effects of the waves and wind, though it was mild compared to the sensation at the very top of the mainmast.

“You okay?” Louis asked, squirming slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Anne-Sophie didn’t respond right away, continuing to bite her lower lip. Her eyes, fixed on the horizon, sparkled like diamonds, and suddenly, tears began to fall.

“Pi… Anne-Sophie?!”

“I… I can’t take it anymore! I can’t take it!”

“What?!” Louis exclaimed, moving closer, his throat so tight he felt like he was being strangled.

“I can’t take it anymore, Louis!” she cried in a voice higher than usual, a woman’s voice. “I’m so tired of lying, of hiding! I’m exhausted!”

She drew her legs in and buried her face in her arms, curling into a ball. Her shoulders shook violently, and the sounds she made were muffled. Louis, about to place a hand on her shoulder, froze.

Louis was stunned. It was the first time he had seen her like this. He had even come to believe that the Anne-Sophie he had seen until now was the real Anne-Sophie. Seeing her so fragile now was very strange for him.

It was as if he had suddenly found himself facing an entirely different person.

Her voice was different too. It had become much more feminine. Even when they were alone, she had kept her deep, masculine voice—the voice of Pierre.

Finally, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said softly, as if revealing a secret. “You’re not alone.”

“Of course I am,” she whimpered, lifting her head slightly to reveal a tear-streaked face. “I’m alone.”

“I’m here,” he replied.

She grimaced and shook her head.

“But you’re a man,” she said, wiping her tears with hands so rough that they would never regain their former softness. “What could you possibly understand about my problems?”

“I… can try,” Louis whispered, applying a little more pressure to his hand and rubbing the young woman’s back.

“I’m so tired, Louis. Look at me. Look at what I’ve become.”

“…”

“Every day, for almost three years, I wake up like a man, I talk like a man, I walk like a man, I swear like a man, I eat like a man, I work like a man—or at least I do my best not to fall too far behind—but it’s never enough! I’m really doing my best, Louis!”

“I know, everyone knows you’re trying hard.”

“And yet, they look down on me! Everyone! You know what they call me behind my back? ‘The baby,’ because they always have to watch over me! Even the kids are stronger than me! They’re faster too! Damn this wretched body! I wish I had been born a man!”

Louis couldn’t say anything, because he had heard things about her. He had often wanted to contradict them, but every time he had, it had backfired on him.

Anne-Sophie chuckled softly, but it was a hollow, sad laugh, seeing how much Louis was struggling to support her.

“And I have to stay quiet, act like I don’t know what they’re saying about me! Pretend again, lie again! Always! My life is nothing but a lie! And I can’t afford a single mistake! If anyone discovers my secret, do you know what will happen to me? They’ll arrest me and send me back to France in shame! My life will be over!”

“Your life won’t be over, Anne-Sophie.”

“Haha! Don’t make me laugh! Look at my face! Look at my hands! Who would want someone like me?!”

Louis suddenly leaned forward, locking eyes with the trembling young woman.

"Me."

And he kissed her.

Anne-Sophie froze, surprised, and only realized what was happening after a moment. She could feel Louis' warm lips covering hers. She wanted to push him away, but she didn’t move. Slowly, she raised her hands and placed them on Louis’ shoulders.

Her cheeks were burning, and her thoughts became muddled. She stopped thinking and let her body act.

She wrapped her arms around Louis and returned his kiss before he could pull away.

Suddenly, the wind, the fear, the sadness, the sound of the waves—all disappeared around them. It was as if they were alone in the world.

Their kiss grew deeper, more passionate, and Louis was surprised to feel a tongue slipping into his mouth. He opened his mouth wider and mirrored Anne-Sophie. Their tongues met and danced for a moment.

Their blood boiled in their veins, and their warm breaths mixed.

It was then that they were interrupted by a grating voice from behind Louis.

“Well, well! What do we have here? Hehe!”

“Damn it, René!”

It was René Gabin, the biggest scoundrel in Louis’ company. Unfortunately, due to his seniority and the losses suffered in Germany, he had managed to climb to the rank of anspessade. He was about to be promoted to corporal. He outranked Louis.

Slowly, like a vulture who had found a tasty prey, he climbed onto the broad wooden platform and looked at the two soldiers. A huge smile spread across his thin lips, revealing a set of badly damaged teeth. Several were missing, and others were broken.

“I see you two are having fun up here!”

A cold shiver ran down Louis’ spine, and he instinctively placed a protective arm between René and Anne-Sophie.

“It’s not what you think!” Louis shouted as he leaped to his feet, with Anne-Sophie rising behind him.

“Oh no? Hey, I’m not judging, kid. He’s got a nice face, the little one! I bet the rest isn’t bad either!”

Louis immediately realized that René thought Anne-Sophie was a man. Yet that didn’t seem to bother him.

He reached for his belt, and an even wider smile spread across his cruel face.

“I’m sure we can all have some fun!”

“Stop it!”

But with a rough shove, René pushed Louis aside, nearly sending him tumbling into the void.

“René!”

In a violent move, certainly one he had performed hundreds of times in Prussia, Hanover, and Saxony, René grabbed Anne-Sophie’s jacket, yanking it open and popping several buttons, which fell through the wooden grating beneath them and disappeared into the abyss.

“Huh?”

He stopped, staring in surprise at Anne-Sophie’s pale face before turning back to Louis.

“HAHAHA! This is even better! The little guy was a girl! I’m so jealous! Hey, were you planning to keep her all to yourself? Tut-tut-tut, that’s not very nice.”

René turned back to Anne-Sophie, trembling like a leaf and struggling to break free. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t, even as he freed one hand to tear away her bindings, exposing her chest.

“Not bad at all,” he remarked, his vile eyes roving over her.

He ran a rough tongue over his dry lips as if about to savor a delicious meal and began to lower his breeches, all while keeping his grip on the terrified young woman.

With overpowering strength, he shoved her onto her back as his breeches reached his knees.

At that moment, Louis intervened, lunging forward at René, who had seemingly forgotten all about him. He hit René’s shoulder with such force that he lost his balance. His legs, tangled in his lowered breeches, couldn’t spread to steady him.

As if in slow motion, Louis and Anne-Sophie watched René fall from the rigging. With a loud crack, he hit the deck below. He hadn’t had time to scream, but in the silence of the night, there was no way no one had heard the noise.

Sailors quickly gathered around the mainmast, forming a wide circle around the man lying on the deck, motionless and grotesque like a broken puppet. A small pool of blood trickled from his nose and his split skull.

Then they looked up in their direction.

“We’re doomed!”

Louis felt a warm hand grip his. With great difficulty, he turned his head and gazed at Anne-Sophie’s face. He squeezed her hand tighter, without saying a word.