Elizabeth had been sure that once they were at sea, moving ever forward with a decent plan in place, the waiting would become less agonizing.

It has not, nor have the thoughts of Jack and what they face, what she has done, faded.

She sometimes works in an effort to keep her hands busy and dissuade conversation, but in the heat of midday, she steps away to stand at the port rail or in the bow, steadily watching the others and turning her face into the wind, silently coaxing it to fill the sails.