twisting around to face the men clinging to the riggings for dear life, but his order turned into a cry as a barrel burst free from its restraints and slammed against his legs.
Stunned, drenched, exhausted from twelve hours battling a sudden squall, Trystan’s grip failed when another wave washed over the Lady May . For a brief moment he felt himself being lifted high over the decks on the crest of the wave, then the ship was no longer beneath him and he fell into the roiling ocean. He gasped for air. Icy seawater filled his mouth.
* * *
Fuzzy thoughts filtered into his consciousness. The shooshing of washing surf…gull screams…grit beneath his cheek…fingers digging into sand…pounding pain in his fevered brain. Trystan’s thoughts spiraled about even as he forced his body to rise out of the water’s edge and stumble onto the sandy beach.
He reached the steps leading up the rocky cliff. Later, he couldn’t recall the climb, the number of times he slipped, the length of time it took him to rise and climb once more. At last he reached the top and collapsed in the long grass. The last sight that filled his visage was of an angel looming above him, cold, white, benign.
* * *
Desarae found him lying on the grass at the top of the cove steps. She hiked up her cotton dress and tucked it between her legs as she squatted beside the stranger. She poked him with her finger and then skittered away when he moaned. Her instinctive compassion brought her to his side once more as his stomach heaved out the seawater he had swallowed.
Desarae lifted his shoulders and turned his head so he wouldn’t drown. She waited until only dry heaves shook his frame then she tugged on his arm and rolled him onto his back.
“Dear Lord, you have swooned again,” she whispered to him, though of course he didn’t hear her. A shaggy terrier padded over beside her and growled. “Hush, Athena,” Desarae ordered. “Tell me, what should we do with him?” she asked, glancing at her dog. “He’s fallen just at the angel’s feet but I do not think he’s dead yet.”
Athena cocked her head and then barred her teeth. “No, I am not going to hurt him.” She shook her finger at the dog. “And neither are you. Do you hear me?” The dog whined and sat back on her haunches. Desarae nodded her head with approval and then looked back at the man lying unconscious before her.
“The truth is, Athena, that I wish Jim had not left for supplies today. Yes, I do.” This was not the first time a sailor had washed ashore but Jim looked after them and took them to Canso on the mainland without them ever meeting her. She shrugged with resignation. “I guess we shall have to make do without him, hmm?” Desarae pushed her long dark auburn hair behind her ears. Athena barked once.
Desarae hooked her arms under the stranger’s shoulders and grasped him in the armpits. She tugged. He didn’t budge. She tugged again and he moved a few inches. Desarae took a deep breath and tugged once more. This time she managed to keep him moving until they reached the moss-covered steps leading to the upper terrace which was now totally overgrown since Jim was too busy with other chores to see to the upkeep of the lawn. Since her uncle’s illness they had kept no other servants for fear that they would spread the knowledge of his death.
Desarae plopped down on the steps and rested. She swiped her arm across her troubled brow and started to think. Athena settled down and rested her head on the stranger’s belly, apparently deciding to adopt her mistress’s new found plaything.
“I am not strong enough to drag him into the house and put him to bed,” Desarae murmured, biting the corner of her lip as she pondered this problem. “Since we cannot bring him to the bed, we must bring the bed to him!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “Athena? Stay!” she ordered, staring at the dog until Athena put her paw up beside her head on the man’s lap. “Good
Stunned, drenched, exhausted from twelve hours battling a sudden squall, Trystan’s grip failed when another wave washed over the Lady May . For a brief moment he felt himself being lifted high over the decks on the crest of the wave, then the ship was no longer beneath him and he fell into the roiling ocean. He gasped for air. Icy seawater filled his mouth.
* * *
Fuzzy thoughts filtered into his consciousness. The shooshing of washing surf…gull screams…grit beneath his cheek…fingers digging into sand…pounding pain in his fevered brain. Trystan’s thoughts spiraled about even as he forced his body to rise out of the water’s edge and stumble onto the sandy beach.
He reached the steps leading up the rocky cliff. Later, he couldn’t recall the climb, the number of times he slipped, the length of time it took him to rise and climb once more. At last he reached the top and collapsed in the long grass. The last sight that filled his visage was of an angel looming above him, cold, white, benign.
* * *
Desarae found him lying on the grass at the top of the cove steps. She hiked up her cotton dress and tucked it between her legs as she squatted beside the stranger. She poked him with her finger and then skittered away when he moaned. Her instinctive compassion brought her to his side once more as his stomach heaved out the seawater he had swallowed.
Desarae lifted his shoulders and turned his head so he wouldn’t drown. She waited until only dry heaves shook his frame then she tugged on his arm and rolled him onto his back.
“Dear Lord, you have swooned again,” she whispered to him, though of course he didn’t hear her. A shaggy terrier padded over beside her and growled. “Hush, Athena,” Desarae ordered. “Tell me, what should we do with him?” she asked, glancing at her dog. “He’s fallen just at the angel’s feet but I do not think he’s dead yet.”
Athena cocked her head and then barred her teeth. “No, I am not going to hurt him.” She shook her finger at the dog. “And neither are you. Do you hear me?” The dog whined and sat back on her haunches. Desarae nodded her head with approval and then looked back at the man lying unconscious before her.
“The truth is, Athena, that I wish Jim had not left for supplies today. Yes, I do.” This was not the first time a sailor had washed ashore but Jim looked after them and took them to Canso on the mainland without them ever meeting her. She shrugged with resignation. “I guess we shall have to make do without him, hmm?” Desarae pushed her long dark auburn hair behind her ears. Athena barked once.
Desarae hooked her arms under the stranger’s shoulders and grasped him in the armpits. She tugged. He didn’t budge. She tugged again and he moved a few inches. Desarae took a deep breath and tugged once more. This time she managed to keep him moving until they reached the moss-covered steps leading to the upper terrace which was now totally overgrown since Jim was too busy with other chores to see to the upkeep of the lawn. Since her uncle’s illness they had kept no other servants for fear that they would spread the knowledge of his death.
Desarae plopped down on the steps and rested. She swiped her arm across her troubled brow and started to think. Athena settled down and rested her head on the stranger’s belly, apparently deciding to adopt her mistress’s new found plaything.
“I am not strong enough to drag him into the house and put him to bed,” Desarae murmured, biting the corner of her lip as she pondered this problem. “Since we cannot bring him to the bed, we must bring the bed to him!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “Athena? Stay!” she ordered, staring at the dog until Athena put her paw up beside her head on the man’s lap. “Good
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