Lost at Sea

One thing Jasper had not planned for was the event in which Eleanor did not show up.

He woke late in the afternoon with the sun shining through the hole at the top of the rock formation and pooling down on his face brightly. He could feel the sunburn there. There was a large quantity of fish in the pool moving sluggishly through the water and occasionally causing ripples against the surface.

And yet, no Eleanor. At least he knew she was alive. No other creature would have made sure he had enough food to last until her return, and it was clear she didn’t expect to be back for quite some time. Irritated, he flopped himself back onto the sand and stared at the smooth stone over his head.

A painful rumble in his stomach is the only thing that got him moving again. He caught a large fish and ate it raw, worried about his store of driftwood to burn.

He sat for a few more hours before a seagull swooped down into his cove through the hole at the top. He wondered at it, at first. All of its freedom, and yet still it had come down here. It picked at something in the water-- algae, he assumed-- and then was preparing to take off again when Jasper came down on it in a flurry of rocks in fists and pure body weight.

He took his time plucking it to keep his hands busy. There, as he pulled feather after feather, the memories swallowed his head like the tide.

In 1770, after the Boston massacre, the colonies were only just beginning to rebel. He and Eleanor were loyal to the king, but they did not wish to fight against their neighbors and friends. Instead, they’d made the difficult decision to attempt to cross the Atlantic and land back safely in the port of Lisbon in England. It took them a year and a half to plan everything out and get everything they wanted to take packed.

The year they left was the year the war went into full swing. It was difficult trying to find a ship to take them after the rebels dumped the tea, and so they ended up when only half their belongings on an old trading ship. It stunk and it was falling apart, but they were desperate and so they attempted it anyway.

Jasper had known from the very beginning that those sailors were uncomfortable with Eleanor’s presence onboard, but when he’d asked the captain, the man had only waved him off. It was just an old superstition, he’d said. The men knew better than to do anything about it.

But they obviously hadn’t. Eleanor faced harassment around every corner. They threw food at her in the mess hall, refused to allow her to use certain bathrooms, and even went as far as to slam into her shoulders as they passed. The captain hadn’t done much to combat her rough treatment, and Jasper couldn’t protect her from everything.

The night he’d lost her he’d stepped out for only a few minutes. He’d just needed to breathe for a moment. He had tucked her into her blankets before he left, knowing that she liked to be wrapped up tightly every night. He also knew he’d have to do it again when he came back, since her erratic sleep pattern left her uncovered within minutes most nights.

However, when he came back, the bed was empty. He tore up the stairs onto the deck as quickly as he could, but it still wasn’t fast enough. He had gotten there just in time to see the love of his life disappear over the edge of the massive ship. The sailors hit him over the head with something heavy before he could leap overboard after her and left him in the brig for the duration of the voyage.

Jasper gasped deeply, realizing then that he’d forgotten to breathe through his reverie. Grief was welling in his chest now as fresh as the very first day. Those sailors hadn’t just taken her away from him, but they’d transformed her into a creature that she hated and kept him from her in more ways than death did.

He cooked up the bird the best he could and ate it ravenously, even though he’d just had an entire fish. Afterwards he slipped into a deep sleep and dreamed of chasing the color of Eleanor’s hair.