While Marcel set the fractured wrist, he had Dan guess how old he "really was". It took her mind off of the pain and gave her the chance to examine more closely the weird anomaly performing first aid. With each wrong guess, Dan slowly came to the realization that Marcel was definitely a lot older than he let on. It was the strange look he had on his face when he first saw her. One of... befuddlement.
She was still guessing by the time Marcel tied the bandage and sat back. "There." he said. "Your hand should be alright in a few weeks." Dan examined the neat job. "Thank you, sir."
"Stow it, kid. Just call me Marcel."
"Thank you, Marcel."
He smiled a little, then eyed the three little huts. "Who lives there?" Dan turned to see. "The girls." "Pardon?" "Girls from the finest private schools from Germany, England, Italy, Paris and Scotland." She explained. "We were all on our way to Sicily when a fearsome storm came up and wrecked the ship." Marcel perked up a little when he heard Italy mentioned, but he wanted to hear more. "This is a silly question, but what happened to the captain and crew? Who survived?" "Just us."Dan motioned to the leftmost side with her wrapped hand. "That one," she said, "holds the eldest girls. Four are from England, one from Scotland. The middle hut holds the younger girls. Two from Rome, one from France, and one from Berlin. The last one, mine, holds one pair of twins from Rome, myself, another French girl, and the youngest. She's two and we think she is from Japan."
Marvel could hardly believe his ears. He had been planning to desecrate this spot not too long ago. He had not conceived the possibility that perhaps he was against a harmless party. He sat upright. "Wait, you only mentioned five schools from Europe. What about the little one?" Dan also adjusted herself. "A foundling. She was discovered in the hold, bundled up in a little potato sack. The only clues we had was a little note pinned to the sack which read 'Jasmine'. The captain assumed that was either her name or what sack held, as there was nothing else to indicate her real name or where she came from." Marcel felt a knot in his stomach. A two-year-old added to the Almost Casualty List.
Dan crawled a bit closer to him. "Now, since I've told you just about everything about us, would you like to try again?" Marcel cleared his throat. "May as well. But, I warn ya. You won't believe it." Dan grinned, mischievously. "Pleeeaase? I always like a good story." Marcel sighed. "You asked for it." He slowly got up to one knee. "My name really is Marcel Giguere and I really am 22....last I checked anyway. I started sailing December of 1688."
He was greeted with instant silence. "What?"
Dan was staring at him with her mouth open in disbelief. He reached over and lightly flicked her chin to close. "You...you couldn't have sailed that long ago." She stammered. "It's not possible!" Marcel looked at her with a confused squint. "Why is it impossible?" "Because-"
"Because?"
"It's 1870!"