His arm around his wife’s shoulder, his cheek pressed over her brow, William slumbered in easy rest—until heaven split apart and hell rained down on the ship.
At first, he thought the slashes of light and shuddering deck boards a night terror, but when the rig lurched at a sharp angle, the violent pitch sent him tumbling out of bed and slamming into the ground.
His every bone ached under the thrashing, his eyes captured lights of ethereal beauty before the bow crashed back into the sea, tossing him against the other side of the cabin.
Jesus!
His features grimacing, he gathered his strength and balance and searched for Madeline. He spotted her clinging to the bedpost, the bed sheets coiled around her body like a snake.
“William!”
As the rig rolled again, they both lobbed at its mercy, but the sound of his wife’s desperate scream for help filled him with unbound energy, and he snatched a leather belt skittering across the floor.
Thunder drummed. Wood splintered.
William ignored the cataclysmic sounds as he plowed toward Madeline. He lashed the belt around her waist and secured her to the bedpost. After a hard, reassuring kiss, he ordered, “Stay here!” And prayed the woman obeyed him just once.
Amid heavy swells, William managed to pull on his trousers and head topside. He stumbled into walls and staggered under reeling surges before reaching the hatch and scaling the ladder into the swirling squall.
For a moment, his heart stopped pumping as he gawked at the billowing black clouds funneling water into the sky. A ravenous comber rammed him, then. The foamy wave swiped everything not fastened to the ship, and William grabbed hold of a rope before being sucked into the churning waters.
Had the world turned upside down?
The ship listed dangerously to one side. A glance toward the unmanned helm shot a chill down his spine—the ship was adrift.
He wrapped his wrists around the ropes lashing in the gale, making his way toward the helm, hunkering every time another hungry breaker beat the decking, taking his breath away.
When he finally reached the helm, he latched onto the ship’s wheel. The pressure from the monstrous storm had him grinding his teeth as he shifted all his weight to the wheel, keeping the vessel afloat.
Under streaks of lightening, William spotted figures reefing the sails. Another flash illuminated the Bonny Meg on the distant horizon. But the next blue blaze of electric light silhouetted a mountaintop.
An island.
“Hard to starboard!” he shouted, warning the crew as he rotated the wheel to avoid landfall, but it was far too late for the evasive maneuver. His draft too low, the water too shallow, the rig ran aground with a tremendous lurch and groan.
William hit the deck. Hard. The dark sky descended on him. He heard the hull breaking apart on the rocks and thought of Maddie, his heart splintering like the ship, before he blacked out . . .
~ * ~
When William opened his swollen eyes, the soft glow of dawn invaded his vision. It took him several more moments to adjust to the dusty pink light and focus on the debris scattered across the beach.
What the hell had happened?
He moaned under the weight of planking across his chest, and with a tortured breath, tossed the jagged wood aside. As the gentle tide caressed his bare feet, the sensation roused him from his muddled mindset. He was half buried in the sand and rolled to one side, his features twisting in agony.
A snake slithered passed him: a yellow boa.
His head soon crowded with memories. A ship. A storm. A wife.
“Maddie,” he rasped, his throat burning with salt water. “Maddie!”
The coast was littered with wreckage, bruised and battered tars. He sighted Edmund and Quincy on their uneven feet, assisting the injured seamen. The Bonny Meg wasn’t on the horizon anymore. Had she drifted to the other side of the island? And Maddie. Where was Maddie?
He scanned the tropical shoreline, but there was no sign of his wife.
God, no!
He struggled upright . . . and his heart dropped at the sight of the Nemesis, her hull cracked in two. Her stern was low in the water, her bow pitched on a peninsula of boulders. Her masts had collapsed under the force of the impact, her sails draped over the decking like burial shrouds.
Conviction replaced confusion. He trudged through the wet sand and surf, cutting the soles of his feet on sharp rock, ignoring the stinging pain as he waded toward the shattered ship in desperate strides.
He reached the massive crevice and climbed inside the hulk, water up to his waist, and plodded through the passageways, making his way up the decks. As he neared his cabin door, he noticed it was shut. His heart pounded in his chest like a steam engine, the pressure building as he reached for the latch.
Jammed.
He slammed his shoulder into the door, breaking it down.
“Maddie!”
But Maddie was gone.
A tear in the hull’s siding let in the morning light: a tear wide enough for a woman to fall through—and be swept out to sea.
He staggered toward the hole and latched on to the rough siding. There, floating in the water, was a belt: the very belt he’d used to secure his wife to the bedpost.
His heart stopped.
Hope died.
As blood rushed into his brain, William collapsed on his knees. He girded every muscle, suppressing the swirling grief in his soul from spilling out, but there was nowhere for the insufferable pain to hide, and at last, he howled like a wild animal trapped in a snare.
His chest cramped until air was scare, making his vision blur. As he gazed, listless, out to sea, he spotted a trail of debris up the coast. He inhaled a much-needed breath and observed the distant shoreline, his foggy mind swelling with a distinct memory.
He whispered, “She can swim.”
Her grandfather had taught her to swim as a child, a skill most sailors didn’t even possess. Could she have washed further ashore? Could she have survived?
His heart beat with renewed hope. She had survived scandal and banishment. The death of her first love. The possible death of her grandfather. She. Had. Survived.
And she had survived the wreck, he was sure.
William slogged through the tangled ship. Once on the beach, Quincy approached him, his face bruised, a cut under his eye.
“Six men missing, Captain, including the first lieutenant.”
William nodded. “Take the rest of the men into the bush. Treat the wounded as best you can. And wait for help.” A dagger in the sand captured his attention. He swiped the weapon. “Eddie!”
His middle brother approached. “Aye?”
“You’ve been promoted to first lieutenant. Let’s find our missing men. And my wife.”