The sails were taut against the sky.  I could see the sun cutting along the edge of the horizon.  I was sitting under the steerage.  I could see it good from here.  The winds kept up a good blow.  The captain was confident that we would reach land before I grew another inch.  He tousled my hair when he said that. 

We’ve been at sea for three weeks and for three weeks we’ve eaten mutton.  The mutton is gritty and it sticks to your teeth like sand.  But there is nothing else – the crates of apples and oranges went bad after the first week. 

When I came aboard, the Captain shook his head.  He shook his head many times that morning.  Once, he even stopped a boy from coming aboard.  He said, “The child is sick.”  But the priest swept the Captain’s hand aside. “Failure will not be measured by weakness,” he bellowed.  The Captain stamped his feet apart.  “I will not have sick children aboard my ship.”  Then I saw the priest whisper in the Captain’s ear.  I thought I saw the Captain smile, or maybe it was the sun bouncing off his face.

In the beginning, I thought the whole of France was marching with us.   There were thousands of us, when we began walking to the sea.  The city of Marseilles was overflowing with children.  It took seven ships to carry us all. We were standing on deck as the priests began singing.  You should have heard it when we joined in.  All the children, the  priests and nuns and even the crewmen.  Our voices filled the harbor. The sea was calm.  It looked like a giant mirror.  It hurt your eyes to look at it.   All the flags were up and running colors in the wind.  And I remember the people standing along the shore and running up the hills and waving.  I thought my heart would burst with excitement.  We sang until the shoreline disappeared.

Sean says that we will reach the Holy Land before Christmas.  “We will convert all the bloody Arabs.  You’ll see,” Sean said.
    “Does the Pope live there, Sean?”
    “Of course not, Christ does.”
    “I thought he was dead.  Didn’t he die on the cross, Sean?”
    “I didn’t mean it that way.  It’s just a way of saying it.”
    “Are we really in God’s army Sean?  You know, like the angels.”
    “Yes, I think so.”
    “Sean . . . do you think we’re going to die?” 
    Sean turned his face up at the sky.  “Isn’t that flag beautiful?” he shouted.  “Look at it.  It’s magnificent.”  And I remember looking up at the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. 
    “God will not let us die,” he shouted.
    The flag flapped in the wind like thunder.  The colors were bright against the sky, like God’s breath.  I knew then that I would die and never see anything as beautiful again.

I don’t sleep in the hole anymore.  They’re always crying or coughing and it smells like death.  So I sleep here under the steerage, on the wooden steps. The captain gave orders that I could sleep here if I wanted to.  I think he liked me from the first day.  Mama always told me that I was the handsomest and the most well behaved boy in the entire village. 

The last light of day is gone.  A hard cold wind is blowing.  The captain ordered the sails to be tucked in for the night.  Soon the boys will start crying and coughing and screaming.  And I know some them will die in the night and in the morning crewmen will carry the dead bodies out on deck with pieces of cloth wrapped over their mouths and throw them into the sea.

Thirty-two boys died that first week.  It was as if death had a magic number and he wouldn’t stop until he reached it. 
    Sean was one of the first to go. I watched as his body slid over the deck and plunged into the icy waters of the sea.  As my friend hit the water, I saw the big bright yellow cross, floating a little, before it too sank.
    I made myself a promise that day.  I would never go below deck again. 

The sky is dark now.  There are no moon or stars.  It’s completely black.  The cries have just started.  Tonight I’ll picture the flag flapping like thunder, its bright colors blinding the night.

Everything is quiet.  I can hear the rats chewing on the wood somewhere below me.  I try to sleep now.  I try to close my eyes and listen to the sea.   In my dreams, I picture God running over the sand, carrying the beautiful, thundering flag.  He's shouting, and his voice fills the sky. 

“Boy!  Wake up boy.” 
    It was the Captain.  He turned and began shouting orders to the crew.  The ship lurched to one side and I rolled and crashed against the side wall of the stairs. 
    “Get down below, boy,“ he shouted.  “We’ve hit a typhoon.”
    The ship lurched again and I held onto the stairs.
    “Go on now, hurry.”
    I stood up and wrapped my arms around the rail and watched the ship turn with the wind and a wall of sea, crash over us.  Then the rain fell, driving into the ship like arrows.  The sea swelled as tall as the masts and fell in a thunderous roar over the ship and swept the crew across the bow and some of them went over.  I heard the children from below screaming.  We were all going to drown. 
    The wind tore at my face and hands.  I held on so tight I could feel the flesh of my arms bruising.  Pieces of wood few into the air and hit the deck and splintered.  I held on.  The screaming was like voices from hell.  Then I heard a thunder crack that filled the sky.  I saw another ship suddenly right there in front of me, high of the rolling waves, breaking up on a massive rock that stuck out of the sea. 
    I saw bodies flying every which way and then another ship shot up as if the ocean had spit her out. She came down with a crash, pulling us down into her wake.  Her masts were gone and I saw children and the sailors and priests jumping over the side, and then she hit the rock and smashed into pieces. 

I woke up to the drone of a priest thanking God for delivering us from evil, Amen. 
The sun was beating hot on my face.  I lay for a long time with my eyes shut listening to the priest.  He was telling us to be brave and that God was watching over us.  “God will not abandon his children,” he said.  But the children were not listening.  They were screaming for their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. 
    I stood and leaned on the railing to look at the sea. It was calm, shining in sunlight. The other ships had vanished as if by magic. 
    Then I saw the Captain.  I went to him and pulled on his wet coat- tail.  He turned slowly and looked down at me.  Even with all the sunlight on it, his face looked dark. A little light came into his eyes as he recognized me. Then, just like when the wind blows out a candle, the light was gone.
    We stared at each other for a little longer. Finally, he tousled my hair and turned back to stare at the calmly rippling sea. Behind me I could hear the squeak of ropes on pulleys lifting up the sails and wind pushing the sailcloth taut against the sky. 

Image: "Christ in the Storm on the Lake of Galilee," Rembrandt, 1633. Oil on canvas. Stolen in 1989 from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston, Massachusetts.