Isola

by Allegra Goodman

She might have been a beauty, except that she was freckled.

This begs a question: are freckles a problem to the author or to the medieval narrator?

At the rear, which was called the stern, I saw a quarterdeck where sailors managed a network of ropes tied to the mizzenmast.

Strange to explain the term stern to us and then use quarterdeck and mizzenmast as though they are everyday terms.

Roberval growled, “Don’t ‘we shall see’ me.”

This seems too modern.

“That is my trouble,” I said—and I feared it was my heresy. “I cannot believe what I do not understand.”

I began to see the wisdom of Damienne’s busy hands. Working, I had little time to mourn—but in my dreams, I grieved.

She has already made a case for work.

We collected seawater in our kettle and spread it in depressions in the rocks. The sun absorbed the moisture, leaving a white crust, and we used this salt to replenish our supply.

Good to know.