Later that day I saw the man again; he was close to the rail where I was accustomed to stand. I heard his muttering and believe his words were directed toward me.

I was afraid. But I assured myself that the Captain’s orders must be obeyed and that I was safe from all men on this ship. What awaited me at the end of the journey I could not know, but I was protected here because I was being preserved for some mysterious mission.

I had reckoned without the boredom of a becalmed ship—and the anxieties which mingled with the boredom. Little to do all day but watch for a wind and the possibility of death from the elements which, fierce or quiet, could be lethal.

When men are in such a situation they take risks.

I was aware of him; there were rings in his ears, and his black eyes flashed in his dark brown face. He sidled closer. John Gregory moved toward me, but the man came too. I turned to John and said: “Should we go below?” As I moved forward the dark man put out his foot; I tripped; he caught me and for a moment I was held close against him. I saw the dark, lustful eyes close … the flash of yellow teeth.

I screamed, but he did not release his hold; he started to drag me away.

But John Gregory was there. They were both holding me, pulling me this way and that.

The Captain appeared I did not know from where, unless he was always watching when we were on deck. He shouted an order to a group of men standing by. For a few terrifying seconds everything seemed to be as still as the ocean. No one moved. The thought flashed into my mind: This is mutiny. The Captain spoke again. His voice rang out clear and firm with an authority to which those men were accustomed to respond.

Two men came forward; they seized the dark man and held him firmly. He was marched away.

“You should go below,” said the Captain to me.

He was flogged and the ship’s company were assembled to see it done.

We of course did not witness this. We remained below in the Captain’s cabin, but we knew what was happening. I could picture it as though I were there—that man tied to the whipping post; his back bare, the terrible whip descending, leaving his flesh torn, raw and bleeding. I could imagine his agony and I wanted to run up and stop it.

The Captain came down to the cabin later.

“He has had his punishment,” he said. “It will be a lesson.”

I shivered, and he went on: “He will survive. Thirty lashes. Fifty would have killed him.”

“Was so much necessary to teach a lesson?” I asked.

“Lashes are the only lessons which they understand.”

“And all because he touched me!”

“I have my duty,” he said.

“And that is to protect me.”

He nodded.

“He will never forget me, that man,” I said, “and he will never forgive me.”

“He will, let us hope, never forget the need to obey orders.”

“It is disturbing that such a thing has happened because of me.”

“Let us renew our prayers for a breeze,” said the Captain.

Another day passed, a day of breathless calm.

I was afraid to go on deck after what had happened; I knew I should not meet this man because he would be too sick of his wounds to stand about and stare at me.

“The men said he nearly died,” reported Jennet. “The whip is a terrible thing. ’Twill mark his back forever.”

“Poor man, I’m sorry for him.”

“He’d been boasting he’d take you. He said he didn’t care what you were. He said he didn’t care if you’d come from the Devil, he was going to have you.”

She was wearing a little image of the Virgin around her neck. Her lover had given it to her as a talisman to keep her from harm.

“What’s that?” I had asked.

“’Tis the Virgin,” she had told me. “She protects women.”

Now she was uneasy and wanted to give it to me.

“Mistress,” she pleaded, “take my Virgin. Wear it around your neck.”

“You need it, Jennet. You go among the sailors.”

She shook her head fearfully.

“What’s the matter, Jennet?” I asked.

“’Tis what they’re saying, Mistress. ’Tis what they’re saying about you.”

“What are they saying about me?”

“When they were lashing him he called out. He said it was the Devil in you that had urged him on. He said you were a witch and a heretic. You’d cast down the priest’s holy cross, he said, and you’d brought evil onto the ship. He said witches brew up storms and didn’t we have such a storm as they’d rarely seen before! Then they all said a man had nearly died through you and now there’s the calm. They frighten me, Mistress. So … take the Virgin. She’ll protect you.”

A cold fear took possession of me then. I recalled that moment of hesitation when the Captain had commanded them to seize my attacker. I knew that mutiny was in the air and for me there was a personal terror for many of these men believed me to be a witch.

What did they do to witches? I asked myself.

And the calm continued.

I was out on deck gazing toward that far horizon; the sky a delicate blue, the sea like a sheet of silk, not a ripple; silence everywhere.

On the deck a group of men watched us furtively. John Gregory was nervous, Richard Rackell was pale.

“It is very hot up here,” said Gregory. “I think we should go down.”

“Not hastily,” I said. “But presently.”

Somehow I knew that a hurried retreat would have pressed those men into action.

I had been afraid many times since I had stepped onto this ship, but I think I was then living through some of the most terrifying moments.

I gazed across that great arc of the sky; I stared out to the horizon; I asked John Gregory if there was any hope of a change in the weather—and all the time I was conscious of those men watching me.

At length I said: “I’ve had enough. Let us go below.”

Slowly I walked to the companionway. Every second I expected a rustle from behind, a scurry of feet, strong arms about me. I knew that they were ready and waiting for some sort of signal. Perhaps I would hear the words: “Heretic! Witch!” What did they do in Spain to heretics? They tied them to a stake; they placed wood at their feet; then they lighted the fagots. The bodies of heretics were consumed by the flames, a foretaste on earth of that fate which many believed would pursue them through eternity.

I was in revolt, as I always had been since my mother had taught me, against such bigotry. I could never believe that leading the good life depended on a single mode of belief. But I was now afraid.

The Captain came to his cabin, to which we had been taken.

He said: “I think it would be wise if you remained here until we sail. It is not good for the men in the mood they are in to see you.”

I nodded. I was in agreement with him now.

The door was locked. John Gregory remained on guard with Richard Rackell and we stayed in the cabin.

Night came. Every sound set my heart beating wildly. I could picture them all storming the cabin, battering down the door and seizing me. I could almost hear their shouts of “Witch” and “Heretic.”

They wanted to destroy me because I was on board and kept apart from them. Women on board—three of them, and only one serving the purpose for which these men would consider they were meant. Jennet—the property of Big Alfonso. Honey and myself kept under strict guard by the Captain’s orders. And everywhere that calm which was more devastating than the storm.

I slept but fitfully.

I whispered to Honey: “The Captain cannot guard us forever.”

“He will guard us for as long as he must,” she answered.

She had a blind faith in him.

I wondered afresh about Honey, who it seemed was a widow. But her plight and the baby she carried seemed to have kept the loss of Edward from her mind. I pondered too on this deep feeling of which I was conscious between herself and this Captain. It was there, some understanding. I wondered whether it was love.