Catch the Wind: My Journey with Caroline

The deck is so deafening I have to shout right into Caroline’s ear. I tell her we should stay up top. She’s trembling but nods anyway, agreeing that at least up here we can actually see what’s happening. We huddle together, staying out of the way of sailors racing back and forth, while officers shout orders and our ship fires off another cannonball. The blast rings in my ears as we swing onto a new course.

The British ship swings back into view, close enough now that I can pick out its flag, the men crowding its deck, and the dark guns lining its sides. I can hardly believe I’m actually in the middle of a real battle. Mom and Dad would be horrified if they knew where I really am right now, and part of me wonders if I should just use the compass to escape.

I decide against it. Scared as I am, disappearing right now just isn’t an option. Caroline would be stunned to see me vanish into thin air, and the sailors need to stay focused on their work instead of me. The only thing I can really do is stay safe and make smart choices until the fighting’s over.

The British fire again, and this time a cannonball tears into one of our masts, sending splinters flying everywhere. I throw my hands over my head. When a sailor screams, I peek through my fingers to see a young man collapsed on the deck, clutching a shoulder that’s bleeding through his shirt. He drags himself out of the way of the running sailors before he goes still again, and no one stops to check on him.

Caroline gasps that he’s wounded. I can’t just leave him there, so I tell her to come with me and see what we can do to help.

The instant the path is clear, Caroline and I duck low and scramble toward the sailor who’s gone down. My skirt snags under my knees so many times that I finally rip a piece of it free just to keep moving. Freckled and coppery-haired, he looks barely older than a high schooler. His face is drained of color, and blood seeps between his fingers pressed to his shoulder.

The deck shudders under another blast, and for a second I picture the next shot sinking the whole ship. But giving in to panic won’t do him any good. Instead, I rack my brain for everything my Girl Scout troop ever taught me about first aid, useless as that is without a single bandage in reach. Right now I’d trade almost anything to have Mom or Dad here instead of me.

Crouching beside him, Caroline asks what we can do to help. He tells us the wound itself isn’t the problem, but he’ll be in trouble if the bleeding doesn’t stop soon. He asks if there’s anything nearby we could press against it.

Some half-remembered rule about pressure on a wound surfaces in my memory, and I realize that I know what to do. I grab the piece of ripped fabric from my skirt and press it hard into the gash. Under his breath, he thanks us, and Caroline murmurs something about how her grandmother would call this quick thinking. My face warms with pride.

I tie a second strip around the bandage to hold it in place. I know that this won’t change the outcome of the war, but it might just save him. But blood continues to seep through the bandage, so I calmly ask Caroline for another strip of my dress to layer on top. When I’m done, the soldier’s eyes drift shut, and his thanks come out as a mumble, maybe from all the blood he’s lost.

Waiting is all that’s left to us now. Quietly, I tell Caroline I hope it’s over soon. She agrees, then apologizes for talking us into staying aboard for the chase. I admit that when the cannonballs started flying, I told myself I was insane for agreeing to stay on board.

But, now I know that something good came from staying. I guess, once a decision is made, you just have to trust yourself and do the best you can, no matter what happens. For a moment she considers that, then nods as if she’s decided to believe it.

When the cannon fire stops at last, cheering erupts across the deck. Someone calls out that the British are striking their flag. Eyes bright, Caroline breathes that we’ve won, thinking of her papa’s ship, seized by the enemy nearly the same way this one almost was. Seeing her get this moment makes me glad. She just smiles back, too overwhelmed to say more.

Once someone else steps in to tend the sailor and we’ve made it back to land, I know it’s time for me to head home. I’m already turning over the idea of asking Dad to let me help at the hospital where he works. Maybe it’ll distract me from missing Mom. Back in my own time, girls don’t get trusted with real medical work the way I just was here. And honestly, I don’t mind that one bit.

Still, I won’t forget the look on that copper-haired sailor’s face. He must have felt so alone out there, and it was Caroline and I who showed up for him.