The Sacrifice by Kathleen Benner Duble Page B

day but stare off into the darkness. Many times she refused to eat, though she took what was offered, only to sit on the bunk with the food held listlessly in her lap.
    Aunt Elizabeth’s health worsened. Her cough, racking her only at night before, now continued into the day. Some days she never left her bunk, lying for hours with the heaving cough, which left her face spattered with blood.
    As Abigail watched them worsen, she feared for her mind. She knew the time would come when, like Dorothy, she would have no courage to get up at all, but would sit half-mad next to her sister, staring out into the darkness, not caring anymore.
    Mama and Uncle Daniel came every other day to visit. They brought knitted caps from Franny, a whittled animal from Paul, and new stories of Edward’s escapades. But their visits did little to lift Abigail’s spirits. Though Uncle Daniel was hopeful with Aunt Elizabeth, Mama grew more depressed with each visit. Papa had worsened, rarely leaving his bed now, muttering over and over that someone was after him. Mama had tried hiring help to watch him, but each one lasted only a day or two before their fear of Papa’s fits and witchcraft led them to believe that Papa was afflicted by his own daughters, who were able to reach him from their cells.
    This rumor, reported in guarded tones by UncleDaniel to Aunt Elizabeth, but overheard by Abigail, worried her. If the magistrates learned of this tale, they could have her sentenced before she was even able to plead her case.
    It seemed to Abigail that their lives could not possibly get worse. Then came the rains.
    In that terribly dark and gloomy place, Abigail was not aware of the fact that fall rains were coming down heavily outside. It wasn’t until she noticed a wetness along the base of the floor that she learned of it.
    “Aunt Elizabeth,” Abigail said, pointing, “what is that?”
    Elizabeth turned her pale face toward the seams of the floor of their cell. “I know not,” she replied in a puzzled voice.
    “Ah, no,” a voice moaned, “’tis the fall rains from outside. They must have saturated the ground. Let us pray that the rain ceases, for if it does not, the seawater will begin to rise.”
    “Inside the cell?” Abigail asked.
    “Aye,” another voice said. “’Tis what happens so close to the ocean. The floor of this cell will not holdit back. I daresay we will be walking in saltwater before the week is out.”
    Abigail prayed for the rains to stop. Their conditions were terrible enough without having the jail cell flooded.
    But the next morning, the water continued to press its way inside, and the morning after, an inch covered the floor.
    “Up, up you go,” the jailer called out. “I’ll not be bringing your food in to you like a servant. If it’s food you want, you must come to the door to get it.”
    Abigail rose with the others and gingerly made her way to the line for food. Saltwater seeped into her shoes and stung her feet with cold. Abigail looked at the hefty boots on the jailer’s feet and envied him. She would remember to ask Mama to bring them all boots when she was next here.
    “Abigail,” Dorothy whispered, “I cannot seem to get warm.”
    Abigail put her arm about her sister. “If I could get your supper for you and let you return to bed I would, but you know he will not allow it.”
    “I can manage,” Dorothy said. “But I fear Aunt Elizabeth may not fare as well.”
    “Aye,” Abigail agreed, turning to see Aunt Elizabeth in line behind them, her body trembling from the cold water. “But we will do what we can. Tonight we will draw close to her, and try our best to warm her.”
    But that night, Aunt Elizabeth would not hear of it. “Nay,” she said, coughing heavily and trying desperately to draw a breath. “I can manage at this end nicely. Curl yourselves together, girls. You need the warmth more than I.”
    Abigail opened her mouth to object, but she knew it would do no good. Aunt Elizabeth was