The Page of Identical Deaths

in 1852 a devastating shipwreck leaves a young survivor stranded in a quiet coastal town..

the chapter_1 Adrift at Sea

                                                                                          1852

         Dark clouds slowly gathered along the distant horizon, drifting steadily toward us. Only minutes earlier, the sea had been calm, but now the wind had begun to rise, stirring restless waves across the water. It felt as though nature itself was warning us that something terrible was about to happen. With every passing minute, the air grew colder. The icy wind slipped through my soaked clothes, making my entire body tremble as I drifted helplessly in the middle of the endless sea.

Beside me, an infant cried without pause. Water surrounded us in every direction. There was no sign of land, no passing ship, not even a single bird flying overhead. Even so, I refused to let go of hope. Every few moments I raised my head and searched the horizon, desperate to catch the slightest movement. Perhaps a ship would appear. Perhaps someone would see us before it was too late. Perhaps this nightmare had not yet reached its end.

"Any moment now..." I whispered, more to myself than to the child. "Someone will come. They'll take us aboard."

Without realizing it, I had clenched my fists so tightly that my knuckles ached. Anger burned inside me, yet there was no one to blame except myself. Certainly not the child. He was here because of me. Death itself didn't frighten me. Had I been alone, I might have accepted my fate beneath these freezing waters. But I wasn't alone, and there were people who had placed their trust in me. They had known how dangerous my mission was, yet they believed I could see it through. Their faces, their final words, and the faith they had placed in me refused to leave my thoughts. I couldn't allow everything to end because of one mistake. Besides, the tiny life beside me was worth far more than my own.

The baby cried for what felt like an eternity, his tiny voice disappearing into the endless roar of the sea. I did everything I could to comfort him, gently rocking him in my arms despite the freezing water surrounding us. After what seemed like hours, I finally managed to calm him, and before long, he drifted into a peaceful sleep. Watching him rest brought me a small sense of relief, but it did little to ease the fear growing inside me.

One hour passed, then another, yet nothing changed. The sea stretched endlessly in every direction, and no matter how many times I searched the horizon, I saw nothing but dark clouds and restless waves. By the time the third hour was nearly over, the first drops of rain began to fall, striking my face one by one. It was then that I slowly began to accept the terrible truth. There was nothing I could do in the middle of this endless ocean. Exhausted beyond measure, I lay down beside the sleeping child and stared blankly across the horizon, still hoping that fate might show us a little mercy.

Then something caught my eye.

At first, I thought exhaustion had begun playing tricks on me. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No... this time there was no mistake. Although the thick black clouds had hidden the sunlight, I could clearly make out the bright white sails of a ship in the distance. My heart pounded against my chest as strength suddenly returned to my weary body. I jumped to my feet and waved both arms with every bit of energy I had left.

"Hey! Over here! I'm here! Can you hear me?!"

For a brief moment, the ship continued on its course, and I feared they hadn't seen us. Then, slowly, it began to turn. Little by little, the vessel changed direction and started sailing toward us. A smile spread across my face before I even realized it. Looking down at the baby, I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Look... I think our luck has finally changed. They're coming to rescue us. Perhaps the One who created you has finally heard your cries."

As the ship drew closer, I could finally make out the sailors standing along its sides. We were barely able to keep ourselves afloat by then, and the freezing water had drained nearly all of my strength. Worried that the child might become ill, I took off my coat and wrapped it tightly around him, even though it left me shivering even more than before.

The crew quickly threw us a rope and pulled the child aboard first, then helped me onto the deck. Several sailors led me below, where they handed me a set of dry clothes. They wrapped the baby in a thick wool blanket and brought him warm milk. Before long, both of us had eaten, and little by little the warmth returned to my body. The child, his tiny stomach finally full, soon fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

A little while later, I began talking with the people aboard the ship. The captain was a man in his fifties, with a thick beard, a stern expression, and a face covered in old scars. At first glance, he seemed like a man few would dare to approach, but the longer we spoke, the more I realized how different he truly was. Beneath his rough appearance was a wise, experienced, and kind-hearted man who had spent most of his life at sea.

He took a slow puff from his cigar before offering it to me. I hesitated for a brief moment, then accepted it with a polite nod out of respect. We stood there in silence for a while, watching the waves crash against the hull as the ship continued its journey through the storm. Finally, the captain broke the silence.

"Sir... if you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened? How did you and the little boy end up stranded in the middle of the sea?"

I had expected that question from the very beginning.

Unfortunately, the truth was something I could never allow anyone to hear.

Taking a slow breath, I looked toward the dark horizon before answering.

"The truth is... we weren't alone. My wife, our child, and several other passengers were traveling to the city of Dantoss. The ship we were sailing on was old—far older than it should have been. On the very first night of our journey, a violent storm struck without warning. The waves battered the ship again and again until the hull finally gave way. Water poured in faster than anyone could stop it, and panic spread through the passengers."

I lowered my eyes for a moment before continuing.

"My wife became trapped below deck. I tried everything I could to reach her, but heavy cargo had collapsed against the doorway. No matter how hard I pushed, I couldn't move it. In the final moments... she passed our child to me through a small window." I paused, allowing my voice to falter naturally. "She... didn't survive."

The captain lowered his head and let out a long, quiet sigh.

"You have my deepest sympathies, sir. It's a terrible tragedy. If only we had arrived a little sooner... perhaps we could have saved someone else as well."

I simply nodded. There was nothing for me to say.

Several moments passed before the captain looked back at me, as though another thought had suddenly crossed his mind.

"May I ask you one more question?"

"Of course."

"When we pulled you out of the water, I noticed something rather unusual. The remains of your ship weren't the color I'd expected. The wreckage was completely white. I've sailed these waters for nearly thirty years, and I've never seen anything quite like it."

For the briefest moment, my heart skipped a beat.

So he had noticed.

Fortunately, I had already prepared an answer.

"Yes," I replied calmly. "Where we come from, it's customary to paint old ships white. The craftsmen take great pride in their work. They polish and paint them so carefully that even an aging vessel appears almost brand new."

The captain raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

"Is that so? In all my years at sea, I've visited ports across the coast and seen hundreds of ships, yet I've never come across such a custom."

I smiled faintly.

"I suppose every region has its own traditions."

The captain chuckled softly before nodding in agreement. Judging by the expression on his face, my explanation had satisfied his curiosity.

After that, our conversation continued for quite some time. The captain spoke about life at sea, sharing stories gathered over decades of sailing, while I asked him about the city we were heading to and the people who lived there. The longer we talked, the lighter the weight on my heart seemed to become.

He told me they had departed from the port of Boston a week earlier and were making their usual journey between coastal towns, transporting goods from one port to another. Their cargo hold was filled with sturdy wooden crates containing iron tools, expensive fabrics, medicines, fine glassware, and countless other supplies. Every shipment aboard the vessel was destined for the very town I had been trying to reach.

As the evening wore on, I also came to know the rest of the crew. Most of the sailors were young men who had only recently begun their lives at sea, eager to prove themselves despite the dangers of the profession. Others were much older, men who had spent decades battling storms and rough waters, yet continued working simply to provide for the families waiting for them back home. One sailor dreamed of saving enough money to buy a ship of his own someday. Another admitted that he had gone to sea only to repay the debts left behind by his late father. Every man aboard carried a different story, a different burden, and someone waiting for his safe return.

After our conversation, I lay down, hoping to catch a little sleep. But sleep refused to come. I turned from one side to the other while my mind wandered endlessly from one thought to the next. At times I tried not to think about anything at all, yet my mind seemed determined to ignore me, filling itself with strange and restless thoughts. The silence of the night stretched on without end, and it was only shortly before dawn that my exhausted body finally surrendered to sleep.

But even then, sleep brought me no peace.

I had a strange dream.

In my dream, I was alone, floating upon an endless sea. As far as my eyes could reach, there was nothing but the deep blue water surrounding me, while above stretched a cloudless sky of perfect calm. Everything was so peaceful that it seemed as though nature itself had forgotten to breathe.

Yet the moment I lifted my eyes toward the heavens, that peace began to fade.

The blue sky slowly lost its color, growing pale before dark clouds swallowed the light. Daylight faded away. The sea changed with it. Only moments before, its surface had been as smooth as polished glass. Now gentle ripples spread across the water, growing stronger with every passing second until the entire ocean was consumed by violent waves.

I tried to move.

But I couldn't.

No matter how hard I struggled, neither my arms nor my legs would obey me. It felt as though invisible chains had fastened me to the bottom of the sea. My heart pounded violently against my chest, while an overwhelming fear, one without reason or explanation, slowly took hold of me.

Then, far beyond the horizon, an enormous wave began to rise.

At first, it appeared no different from any other wave. But with every passing moment it grew larger, climbing higher and higher until it seemed to swallow the entire sky. I remained frozen, unable to move, able only to stare at it in helpless terror.

The wave rushed toward me.

Only a few more seconds...

Just as it was about to crash down upon me, I jerked awake.

For several moments, I couldn't even remember where I was. My breathing was quick and uneven, and my heart still pounded with the same terror I had felt in the dream. A cold sweat covered my forehead, and my hands trembled without my noticing.

Still, I tried not to dwell on it. Taking a deep breath, I gathered myself and stepped out onto the deck.

The bright rays of the morning sun struck my face at once. My eyes had not yet adjusted to the light, and I could barely keep them open. Then I looked ahead.

Before us stood the city of Dantoss in all its quiet grandeur.

Although Dantoss rested upon the shores of the ocean, its surroundings were nothing like the lush landscapes one might expect. The cool sea breeze kept the coastline pleasant, but farther inland the land stretched into dry, dusty plains. In the distance, sun-bleached hills rose beneath the morning sky, while mounted riders entered the city along roads veiled in drifting clouds of dust.

Our ship slowly approached the harbor.

The waves lapped gently against the wooden piers, their soft rhythm blending with the cries of the harbor. The sea breeze brushed against my face, carrying with it the sharp scent of salt. I checked on the baby once more.

He was still sleeping peacefully.

*"Can anyone really sleep this much?"* I wondered.

Holding him carefully against my chest, I waited as the ship finally came to a stop.

The harbor sprang to life at once. Sailors hurried to unload the cargo. Wagon wheels creaked across the wooden planks, heavy crates were carried ashore one after another, and voices echoed from every direction as orders were shouted across the docks.

I walked over to the captain and offered him my hand.

"Thank you... for everything, Captain," I said sincerely.

He shook my hand firmly and smiled with a quiet nod.

Cradling the baby in my arms, I started down the old wooden pier.

To be honest, I hadn't the slightest idea what I was going to do next. This city was completely unfamiliar to me. Every street, every building, every face belonged to a world I had never seen before.

Suddenly, the captain called after me.

"Sir! Wait a moment!"

I turned around.

The captain hurried over.

"Allow me to do one more favor for you," he said. "My wife is a doctor. She works beside the large building in the center of town. It would be wise to let her examine the little one. After everything he's been through... he deserves to be looked after."

Then he turned toward a man waiting beside the road in a horse-drawn wagon.

"Fredo!"

The driver immediately looked up.

"Yes, Captain?"

"My friend, would you take these guests to my wife? Tell her not to keep them waiting. And one more thing..." He smiled. "Don't charge them a single penny."

Fredo nodded with a grin.

"Of course, Captain."

The captain looked back at me and smiled once again.

"Welcome to Dantoss."

I returned his warm smile with one of my own, offering a grateful nod. Holding the infant a little closer against my chest, I made my way toward the horse-drawn carriage.

Without a word, the coachman opened the door for me. Cradling the baby with the utmost care, I climbed inside. A few moments later, the horses lurched forward, and the carriage rolled smoothly toward the heart of the town.

I remained silent, my eyes fixed on the passing scenery beyond the window.

If only my run of misfortune could finally come to an end from this day onward...

The thought took root in my heart, growing stronger with every passing moment.

I knew there was no turning back now. Yet I felt no regret—not even the slightest. On the contrary, an inexplicable sense of peace settled over me, as though I had finally found the place I had been searching for all these years.

Even so, the confidence within me was still unable to overcome the fear that lingered deep inside.

Everything I had witnessed... everything I had read... refused to leave my thoughts, even for a single moment. I had replayed those memories in my mind hundreds of times. What good could possibly come from revisiting them once again? Deep down, I believed the truth. Its logic was too clear, too undeniable to dismiss. And yet, whenever I imagined facing it myself, an inexplicable fear tightened its grip around my heart.

I could only hope these restless thoughts would not bring yet another calamity upon me.

So completely had I lost myself in that endless tide of thoughts that I failed to notice the carriage had already reached its destination.

"Sir, we've arrived."

"Sir... can you hear me?" the coachman called again, gently rapping his knuckles against the carriage door.

I started violently, snapping back to my senses.

"O... oh. Yes."

For a brief moment, I looked around in confusion, unable to remember where I was. Then, clutching the infant tightly against my chest, I hurried down from the carriage.

The coachman looked at me before pointing toward the doctor's office beyond the entrance. He carefully explained how I could enter without waiting in line—what I should say, and how I ought to address the doctor. Once he had finished, he gathered the reins into his hands.

I wanted to thank him, but he gave me no chance. With a gentle flick of the reins, the horses moved forward, and within moments the carriage disappeared around the bend in the street.

I drew a slow, steady breath before placing my hand against the old wooden door and pushing it open.

The heavy door answered with a long, weary creak.

The instant I stepped inside, a stale, pungent smell filled my lungs. The sharp scent of limewash used to disinfect the building mingled with the earthy fragrance of dried medicinal herbs, lingering heavily in the air.

The infirmary was even quieter than I had expected.

Its whitewashed walls had long since yellowed with age, their surfaces marred by countless fine cracks. The wooden floor groaned softly beneath every footstep. Dim oil lamps hung from the ceiling, their faint glow blending with the pale morning light filtering through the windows, causing tiny specks of dust to shimmer as they drifted lazily through the still air.

Along the wall to my left stood a row of long wooden benches, where patients waited in silence for their turn. One man sat with his arm wrapped in bandages, while another kept his head lowered, struggling to suppress a persistent cough. From the rooms farther inside came the occasional soft clink of metal instruments, followed now and then by the muffled groans of patients enduring their pain as quietly as they could.

To my right, behind a tall wooden counter, a middle-aged woman sat leafing through a thick, leather-bound ledger. The shelves behind her were lined with glass bottles, small sacks filled with dried medicinal herbs, and neatly arranged earthenware jars.

Remembering the coachman's instructions as best I could, I followed them carefully. To my own surprise, I was admitted to the doctor's office without being questioned or made to wait in line.

After stepping inside, I explained what had happened to the infant as briefly as I could, making sure not to leave out any important details. The doctor listened without interrupting. When I had finished, he wasted no time with unnecessary questions and immediately began examining the child.

He first observed the baby's breathing, then checked his heartbeat. After that, he looked into his throat and carefully examined his overall condition. When the examination was over, he remained silent for a moment before lifting his eyes to meet mine.

"Where is the boy's mother?" he asked.

I repeated the same account I had given the captain, explaining everything clearly and in full.

As he listened, sympathy spread across the doctor's face. His gaze drifted back to the child.

"Poor little fellow..." he murmured quietly.

He resumed his examination, this time even more carefully than before. Several moments passed before he finally straightened.

"How peculiar..." he said thoughtfully. "After everything he's been through, I would have expected him to be in far worse condition. Yet he seems to be a remarkably strong child."

According to the doctor, the boy's throat showed no signs of injury, and for the moment there was nothing to suggest any immediate danger. Even so, he stressed that the child should remain somewhere warm and quiet until he had fully recovered.

I fell silent.

There was no one in this town who could look after the boy, while I still had matters that demanded my attention. I could hardly carry an infant with me throughout the entire day. After thinking it over, I made up my mind.

"Doctor," I began, "I have one favor to ask of you. If it isn't too much of an inconvenience, would you allow the boy to remain here until sunset? I still have several matters that I must attend to. All I ask is that someone keep an eye on him until I return."

The doctor considered my request for a moment before answering.

"Sir, as you can see, there are many patients waiting outside. Every one of them depends on me. If I keep the child here, I won't be able to give the others the attention they deserve. Besides..." He glanced around the modest room. "...we simply don't have the proper facilities to care for an infant."

His reasoning was perfectly fair. Still, I could not bring myself to give up so easily.

"I understand, Doctor. I can see that your circumstances are far from ideal. But please try to understand mine as well. The boy has no one else. And the truth is... I don't even have the conditions you're speaking of. Taking him with me right now would only place him at greater risk."

The doctor lowered his eyes in thought. For a long moment, the room remained silent.

At last, he let out a quiet sigh.

"Very well," he said. "But I won't be able to watch over him constantly. I'll need someone's help."

Turning toward the door, he raised his voice.

"Margaret!"

A few moments later, a middle-aged woman entered the room.

"Margaret," the doctor said, "if you have a moment, could you look after this little one? He's stable for now, but he shouldn't be left alone. I'll be occupied with my other patients."

Without hesitation, she nodded and gently lifted the baby into her arms.

"Thank you... both of you," I said with genuine gratitude. "I'll return before sunset to pick him up."

Margaret gave me a reassuring nod before quietly leaving the room with the child.
The doctor acknowledged me with a brief gesture in return.
With that, I stepped out of the doctor's office.