Catch the Wind: My Journey with Caroline

Chase or no chase, a navy ship bearing down on the enemy is no place for two girls. So I tell Caroline that staying aboard just isn’t an option for us.

Though Caroline’s shoulders droop, she agrees we should get off the ship. Sailors rig a rope ladder over the schooner’s side and lower a rowboat. I make it down the rungs without slipping into the water. Rather than making us wade through the marsh grass, a sailor rows us to a dry, flat rock and lets us off there.

When he offers to walk the rest of the way home with us, Caroline nearly snaps out a refusal before catching herself and thanking him instead, insisting she already knows the path. He asks if we’re sure, and I say we’re certain. He looks relieved to get back to his crew and pushes off right away, leaving the two of us alone on the shore.

I turn to Caroline and ask her if she’s upset that I made us leave the ship. She tells me I was right, that we’d only have been in the way. But she still doesn’t meet my eyes. After a moment of silence, I ask her what’s wrong. Sadness flickers across her face. At last she admits that her papa’s fish camp sits just ahead, and that she hasn’t set foot near it since the British took him prisoner.

I understand missing a parent better than anyone else I know. Since none of my friends have a parent in the military, I’ve never really talked about how much it scares me. Watching Caroline right now, I recognize that same ache in her. I wonder whether keeping it locked away is doing her any good at all.

Turning away from the fish camp at last, Caroline suggests we take the lakeshore trail home instead. Part of me wants to give her the chance to talk about her papa with someone who actually understands. But another part worries that pushing someone I barely know to open up about something so personal might only make her retreat further.