Regards from Captain Daniel Followay, USS Sparrow
My darling,
It is with great jubilation that I shall tell you the news- I have received word that the Sparrow shall be moving towards the Sound in a fortnight.
We simply do not have the supplies to stave off the blockade on Boston; however, it is believed that if the opposition sails south to capture it from inland, my little bird shall be lying in wait. To have you here with me, to see it…it is the most beautiful thing, miniature- with its precious six guns and Molly on the bowsprit with the sparrows in her hair. We are a fourth, a fifth of the size of the opposition, but oh, how many times more fleet? Uncountable, infinite times.
I miss you so.
Send word of Jack’s child, if she has been born. Send them my love.
Yours,
Daniel
____
The Third Account- Nicholas Bloom
Nicholas climbs to the crest of the knoll behind the Beach House, his shuffling feet uprooting stray grass clinging to the sand.
Beyond him is the high tide, and the peak of Salem Rock, and past that, Solomon’s Lick. His world, encapsulated before his eyes.
The sky had been like this the day he’d injured his foot: pink and vibrant, with gray eating away from it to the west- a threat of storms. “Storms” usually meant that his mother did a lot of pacing and sipping from bottles until Katerina replaced the wine with milk, and that the both of them, with wild, crazed looks in their eyes, would forbid him to go outside until the dirt had dried completely.
Just as he readies himself to sit, he notices something he never has before- a small shed, with green paint peeling from its sides and weak candlelight emanating from the warped wood door.
New discoveries are a rare occurrence.
Ignoring the constant stabbing of reeds, he slides down the knoll and proceeds slowly towards the shed, feet stepping carefully through the sand and ears so alert they twinge when gulls cry, sending shivers down his spine.
Splinters of wood cut into his cheek as he presses it to the door, listening. For a moment, there is nothing.
He counts to five.
A woman begins to cry, somewhere deep within. The sound is soft, nearly beautiful in timbre, and yet it is the most revolting thing he has ever heard.
Nicholas wrenches himself from the door and shuffles towards home, arms crossed over his chest.
He is freezing, teeth chattering- as though he has been dumped into the sea.
____
Regards from Captain Daniel Followay, USS Sparrow
Darling,
I write to you in tears. Perhaps it shall be easier to tell you these things with quill and ink, for my chest aches terribly…
We journeyed south, naïvely thinking the Opposition had left all their boats in Boston, and had not bothered to follow us- or rather, did not travel faster. And there they were, waiting at the mouth of the Sound, sinister red and navy bars snapping in the wind.
They were the first to fire. Half of my men went down with the first cannon blast, the other half scared witless and praying aloud.
And the second blast…I do not remember it exactly. All I remember is the ship beginning to tip to one side, and my boots beginning to slide in the mess of salt and blood.
I did what any Captain would do. I fought my way up to the bowsprit and stood there, coattails whipping at my thighs, and sung a hymn- I don’t remember which one. I prayed, perhaps, sinking to my knees with exhaustion by the time we were submerged, the Opposition laughing and cheering and exchanging drinks. One of them handed off his wineglass to someone, a friend perhaps, and fired his pistol with one hand.
And I’m fairly certain I felt something bite at my chest, but I can’t remember any pain with it, merely blackness.
I awoke sometime later with the oddest sensation- being pressed flat to the ground. The water was everywhere; drenching me, drowning me, the salt burning my eyes. My legs were stiff and cold, and I tried so hard to rouse myself from my position, but oh, the sand pulled and pulled me back…
All I thought of was you, darling.
My fingers pulled me along rock by rock, with little fish darting betwixt them. Directly above me was a tiny pinprick of light, shimmering down and cruelly flickering about.
I struggled for hours, praying and praying that I would be able to find you.
And when I arrived on shore, my lungs gasping for breath, you were there. You rushed to my side and began to weep, calling desperately to the house for bandages.
You put your fingers to my neck, pressing them constantly, so hard it hurt.
That was when you screamed.
It hurt me so, my dear- my ears still ring with the sound. Have I displeased you? Have I disappointed you by fighting to come back, such that we should live as a normal husband and wife?
Such that we should be happy together?
It confuses me so. I shall sleep in the carriage house until I find somewhere else to go- I anxiously await word from you.
Yours,
Daniel
