Jean-Luc Moreau stood at the edge of the deck, his face shadowed by the early morning light. The crew gathered in silence, their expressions somber as they faced the sea. A wooden plank extended over the side, bearing the shrouded form of one of their own.
“By the stars,” Jean-Luc began, his voice carrying a gravity that matched the ocean’s depths. “We commit our sister to the sea, her spirit to the winds that guide us.”
The sea whispered around them, a mournful echo that seemed to resonate with their loss. This was their sixth funeral since departing Amsterdam. Each one left a heavier weight on Jean-Luc’s shoulders, a reminder of the cost of their quest for freedom. They had now lost 2 delegates from Scotland, one from the Balkans and 3 from the Ottoman Empire.
He stepped back, and two sailors tilted the plank. The body slipped into the water with a gentle splash, swallowed by the vastness of the ocean. For a moment, they all stood still, heads bowed in silent prayer or reflection.
Jean-Luc lifted his gaze to the horizon. “Prepare to set sail,” he ordered softly. The crew moved with quiet efficiency, each action performed with an undercurrent of anticipation. Months at sea had forged them into a resilient unit, each loss strengthening their resolve rather than breaking it.
Jean-Luc Moreau strode across the deck, the sea breeze catching the loose strands of his dark hair. His eyes found Johanna de Wit, who stood near the helm, her auburn hair tied back in a practical braid. She was studying a map, her sea-green eyes focused and intense.
“Johanna,” he called, approaching her.
She looked up, a small smile touching her lips. “Captain.”
“We need to discuss our route,” he said, glancing at the map she held.
Jean-Luc stood beside Johanna, the map she held, meticulously detailed and vibrant with colors, depicted their current route, veering dangerously close to Jamestown.
“We’re a few days out from the East Coast,” Jean-Luc began, his voice steady but laced with underlying concern. “Near Jamestown.”
Johanna’s eyes flickered with recognition. “Jamestown… not the place we wish to be.”
“Indeed,” he confirmed, glancing at the sky as if seeking reassurance from the stars. “We must adjust our course. My divination showed a better path, one that leads us away from English settlements.”
She nodded, her fingers tracing the lines on the map. “We need to find an alternative.”
Jean-Luc reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound journal. He flipped through its worn pages until he found his latest entry—notes from the divination ritual performed under a canopy of stars back before they had left Europe. The images were vivid in his mind: rolling rivers, dense forests, and a distant mountain range.
“We should head inland,” he said, tapping the journal’s open page where he had sketched an outline of his vision. “Towards a great river system. It’s where we’ll find safety and fertile land.”
Johanna studied the sketch thoughtfully. Her sea-green eyes then brightened with realization. “I think I have something that could help.” She turned swiftly and moved towards her quarters below deck.
Jean-Luc followed her down the narrow stairs and into her cabin, which was cluttered with nautical instruments, charts, and books on cartography. She rummaged through a stack of aged parchments before pulling out an old Spanish map.
“This,” she said, unfolding it carefully on her desk. “This map shows what they called the ‘Sea of New Spain.’ It’s old but could be useful.”
Jean-Luc leaned over, examining the markings on the yellowed paper. The map detailed vast coastal regions and rivers not marked on their current charts.
“The Sea of New Spain,” he murmured, tracing a finger along an uncharted river leading deep into the continent.
“It aligns with your vision,” Johanna said softly.
Jean-Luc straightened up, determination hardening in his deep blue eyes. “We’ll alter our course immediately.” He turned to head back to the deck but paused at the door.
“Thank you, Johanna,” he said, gratitude clear in his tone.
“By the stars,” she replied with a gentle smile. “We navigate together.”
A few days later, as dawn broke, casting a golden hue over the water, The Libertine sailed into the Bay of New Spain . The vast expanse of water stretched before them, an open invitation to explore its hidden depths. Jean-Luc felt a swell of emotion as they crossed into this new territory—a mixture of relief, anticipation, and a lingering touch of sorrow for those they had lost along the way.
The crew gathered on deck, eyes wide with wonder as they took in the sight. For many, this was their first glimpse of the New World, a land shrouded in mystery and promise. The air was different here—crisp and filled with possibilities.
“Look there,” Johanna pointed to a distant shoreline where dense forests met sandy beaches.
Jean-Luc nodded. “We’ll anchor near that cove,” he decided. “It’ll provide us some cover while we assess our surroundings.”
Elena Ortiz stepped forward, her usually composed demeanor softened by awe. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her eyes reflecting the same hope that shimmered in Jean-Luc’s heart.
The Libertine glided smoothly toward its anchorage point, the crew working in silent harmony to lower sails and prepare for landing. Jean-Luc felt a sense of pride as he watched them—these were not just his crew but his family now.
Jean-Luc Moreau watched as the first of his crew lowered the small rowboats into the water. The excitement among the passengers was palpable, a hum of anticipation that crackled through the air. Each person carried their hopes and fears like invisible baggage, yet their eyes sparkled with a shared sense of destiny.
“Lower away,” he commanded, his voice steady.
Elena Ortiz stepped into the first boat, her gaze fixed on the shoreline. Jean-Luc noticed her carrying a satchel filled with her herbal alchemy tools, her resolve as firm as ever. She caught his eye and gave a small nod.
Johanna de Wit was next, her compass and maps clutched tightly in her hands. “The currents are favorable today,” she remarked, her voice tinged with excitement.
“Then let’s make the most of it,” Jean-Luc replied, climbing into the boat after her. The oars dipped into the water, and they began their journey to land.
The rowboat scraped against the sandy shore, and Jean-Luc jumped out, pulling it further onto the beach. The others followed suit, their feet sinking into the warm sand. Around them, dense forests loomed like ancient sentinels guarding untold secrets.
“Stay close,” Jean-Luc instructed. “We don’t know what we might encounter.”
The group moved cautiously into the forest, marveling at the lush vegetation and vibrant colors that seemed to pulse with life. Elena knelt beside a cluster of unfamiliar plants, her eyes lighting up as she examined their leaves and stems.
“These could be invaluable for our remedies,” she murmured, almost to herself.
Jean-Luc scanned their surroundings, every sense alert. A rustling sound caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see one of the passengers—a young man named Carlos García—stumble backward.
“Look!” Carlos shouted, pointing toward a nearby marshy area.
Emerging from the water was an alligator, its rough skin glistening in the sunlight. It moved slowly but deliberately, its eyes fixed on them with a primal intensity.
“Stand back!” Jean-Luc ordered, positioning himself between the group and the creature. He motioned for everyone to retreat slowly. “We don’t want to provoke it.”
The alligator paused at the water’s edge, its gaze unyielding but uninterested in further pursuit. The group held their breath until it finally turned away, slipping back into the murky depths from which it came.
Johanna exhaled sharply. “Well,” she said with a wry smile, “I suppose that’s our welcome to this new world,” and began to laugh.
Jean-Luc Moreau stood on the beach, his eyes fixed on the distant expanse of water that hinted at the mouth of the great Mississippi River. The river had been a subject of countless discussions and maps, each promising but untested. He felt a pull toward it, an almost magnetic attraction that whispered of untold possibilities and uncharted territories.
He sighed, deep in thought. The river represented both opportunity and risk. Traveling up its winding path could lead them to fertile lands rich with resources, a perfect site for their new settlement. Yet, it also held dangers—unknown tribes, wild beasts, and perhaps even other European settlers who might not take kindly to their presence.
Johanna de Wit approached him, her footsteps light on the sand. She carried her compass and maps as always, her expression one of curiosity mixed with concern.
“Jean-Luc,” she called softly.
He turned to face her, his penetrating blue eyes meeting her sea-green ones. “Johanna,” he acknowledged, “I feel the Mississippi beckons us,”
She glanced at the river’s direction, her fingers tracing imaginary lines on the map she held. “The currents are strong,” she noted. “But if we navigate carefully, it could lead us to the heart of this continent.”
Jean-Luc nodded, appreciating her practical perspective. “True,” he said thoughtfully. Johanna tilted her head slightly, her gaze intense. “We’ve faced dangers before and prevailed,” she reminded him gently.
He let out a small chuckle, admiring her unwavering confidence. “As always, you bring clarity,” he said.
They stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts as they surveyed the landscape before them. The dense forest lining the riverbanks seemed both inviting and foreboding, a tapestry of nature’s beauty and mystery.
“The river could be our lifeline,” Jean-Luc mused aloud. “It offers a direct route inland and access to fresh water—a necessity for any thriving settlement.”
“Indeed,” Johanna agreed. Jean-Luc felt a renewed sense of determination wash over him.
Jean-Luc Moreau stood with Johanna de Wit on a slight rise overlooking the beach where their passengers had disembarked. The sight of their new companions exploring this untamed land filled him with a mix of pride and apprehension. Each step they took was a stride into an uncertain future, yet their curiosity and determination shone through.
The botanists were already deep in their element, scattered across the immediate area, examining the unfamiliar flora with meticulous care. Elena Ortiz knelt beside a cluster of vibrant flowers, her delicate hands stained with the pigments of the plants she was collecting. Nearby, Marco Bianchi and Katharina Richter discussed the properties of a particularly large fern, their animated gestures reflecting their excitement.
Jean-Luc’s gaze shifted to the other side of the beach, Carlos García stood near the edge of the forest, his hand extended toward a group of curious squirrels that had emerged from the underbrush. Ljubica Stojanović and Moira MacDonald watched intently, exchanging words about tracking more elusive creatures like alligators. Their ability to communicate with animals would be invaluable in understanding this new environment and ensuring their safety.
A sense of unease gnawed at Jean-Luc as his eyes drifted toward another group—all pawing over different divination tools. These individuals had always been an enigma to him, their abilities both fascinating and unnerving. Sébastien Rousseau stood at the forefront, his eyes closed as if in deep concentration. Amélie Fontaine and Diego Velázquez flanked him, their expressions serene but intense.
“Do you sense it too?” Johanna asked quietly, her gaze following his.
Jean-Luc nodded slowly. “The seers,” he murmured, “they’re seeing something.”
Drawn by an invisible force, he walked toward them, feeling Johanna’s presence steady beside him. As they approached, Sébastien opened his eyes, which now glowed faintly with an otherworldly light.
“What do you see?” Jean-Luc asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sébastien’s gaze met his, piercing and far-seeing. “A path,” he replied slowly. “A river winding through dense forests and open plains.”
Amélie stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “It’s not just any path—it’s our way forward. It leads to a place where we can build, where we can thrive.”
Diego nodded in agreement. “But it is not without its challenges,” he added cautiously.
Jean-Luc felt a chill run down his spine despite the warmth of the sun overhead. He knew that interpreting these visions would be crucial for their journey ahead.
“The Mississippi,” Johanna whispered beside him.
“Yes,” Sébastien confirmed, “it calls to us.”
Jean-Luc straightened up, feeling the weight of responsibility settle more heavily on his shoulders. He turned to face his crew and passengers who were spread out before him like pieces on a chessboard.
“We must prepare,” he declared firmly. “Clearly, our destiny lies upriver.”
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