The storm lasted well into the night and when it was over, Uriah untied himself, blew out the candle and fell asleep on the cold, damp floor. When he awoke, the hour was nearly noon. Painfully, he lifted himself up. He watched each member of his family until he could clearly see them breath, then followed the scant light through the passage way and up the stairs. He forced himself to start his morning stroll around the deck.

"You walk alone this morning, Mister Carson?" Captain MacPherson asked. He was a stout man, with graying hair and a pleasant smile. Too pleasant.

"Aye," Uriah mumbled. Already worn out, he walked to a familiar box and sat down. A good wind blew against the sails, and The Benison Felicity was picking up speed.

"My wife died on a voyage such as this," the Captain tried again.

Uriah's eyes had turned cold when he looked up at the Captain. "Is that why you think to kill mine?"

MacPherson started to say something, then thought better of it and walked away.

Nearly two hours passed before Uriah struggled to his feet again. Slowly, he made his way through the casks until he neared the first mate. His voice was strained when he asked, "How far?"

Masters stood alone near the starboard rail, his hat in his hand. "No way to know. The backstaff is broken and the clouds hide the stars."