“A moment of silence for the prayer,” Joshua called out.
Everyone’s head lowered—everyone but mine, that is—while Joshua prayed to our Lord, our Father in heaven. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to pray. Not even to pretend. Some reason, the words only made my nerves twinge. I rubbed my thumb over the palm I cut months ago to bring forth the map, swearing the skin was ice cold compared to the rest of my body’s temperature. It had to be my imagination which was being fed by my fear. So, I focused on my hair and my father’s clothes, wanting to look nice when Cyrus finally made the proper introductions. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was over the whole thing, really. I knew the majority of the crew had been sailing with Cyrus for years. They’d more than likely trust Cyrus’s decision to bring me aboard their ship. But there were some new members that might not take kindly to a woman’s presence among them.
Worst case scenario if things got out of hand: rape or death.
Once the prayer was over, Joshua opened a large, thick book. The ship’s log, I realized. And upon the page he opened to was a list of names and their ranks. We were about to go through a lengthy roll call. Joshua cleared his throat, then shouted out in a deep, semi-clear voice dipped in his Irish accent, “Call out ‘aye’ when I read your name.”