“Well?” Sewel hollered behind me. “You see them?”
“Yes, sir. I see them.” My real papa was named James Morris and he never hollered. He’d been a simple shoemaker in New Providence, where he and Mama had met. He’d died nine years earlier, when I was six. Sometimes I wished I’d paid closer mind to him, as I only remembered little things about him, like his brown-stained hands and the little gap between his two front teeth that I inherited, but I hadn’t known any better back then. I’d always thought he’d be there. After he died, I got wiser and made sure to remember everything Mama did and said. Now all my memories of her twinkled in my mind like stars.
The storm worsened by the minute. Soon, it proved to be what I’d most feared—a hurricane. Gales screamed in my ears. Waves fell upon the wherry like stumbling giants. Bursts of spindrift spit into the air, the droplets like pins against my face. I lost sight of Mercy’s boat and prayed she’d made it safe back to West End.
“Fran!” Sewel yelled over the howling wind. He tossed a pail at me. “Get bailing!”
I did as he said, bailing water as fast as I could, but every new wave undid my efforts. We were in real danger of being swamped.
“Sails! Ho, Baines! Sails!”
I looked up, startled by Sewel’s shouts, and found him staring into the distance. I squinted, trying to see what he saw, but night had fallen and I could scarce tell the sea apart from the sky. Finally, I spotted it and gasped.
Amid the angry waves, I saw a brig in a terribly wounded state. The poor vessel’s mainmast had snapped in half and the top had fallen into the sea. The ship was heeling dreadfully to that side, pulled by the weight of the downed sail.
That wasn’t all. It had run up on a reef, one that had grounded dozens of ships before. I could think of no other reason why it’d turned broadside, making itself vulnerable to the surging seas.
I looked at Sewel. He was still staring at the troubled ship. “Mr. Baines didn’t hear you.” His boat had kept heading for home.
“Just as well.”
I didn’t understand. “But we’re going to help…aren’t we?”
“Now, why would we do that?”
My body went cold all the way through.
As we drew closer, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The brig was bottoming against the reef. With every wave that passed, its rigging and sails shuddered. Over the storm’s howling, I heard the ship’s bell tolling desperately. Someone was ringing it hard enough to shake the rafters in heaven.
I turned back to Sewel. “They need help. We could lead them to a safer depth.”
He turned to me, his eyes murderous. “It en’t right to meddle in others’ fates, Francisca.”
“But…” I gripped the gunwale so tight, the skin on my knuckles burned. There had to be dozens of sailors aboard that ship. I couldn’t let them die. Maybe Sewel was a murderer, but not me.
I picked up the oars from the well.
“Put those down.”
I slid them into the locks.
“You got one more chance, Francisca. Put those down, or I’ll—”
I dug the paddles into the frothing sea and heaved. As I brought the oars forward again, something slammed into my back. The breath drove out of me. I flew forward, cracking my head on the keel. The world flashed white and then went black.
For long seconds I couldn’t see. I could only feel Sewel’s hands, wrenching me up. Turning me. As my sight returned, I found myself on my back. Sewel’s face hovered above me, rain pouring from his chin and his nose in watery ropes. I’d seen him angry a thousand times before, but never like this.
“Now what?” he said, his breath gasping and ragged. “What are you going to do now, Fran?” He leaned down, bringing his face close to mine. I kicked and thrashed, but he held me by the neck and weighed more than a mountain. “That en’t gonna do it, Frannie. What about now—what’ll you do?” His hand shot under my shirt and squeezed, hard. “Nothing. That’s what you’ll do. You’ll yield to me, Francisca. Once and for all. You’ll learn and you will obey me.”
He waited for me to speak.
I couldn’t. I had gone under. I was ten fathoms below. Far, far away.
He sat back, gripping the gunwale as a wave came, making us spin and tumble.
I stayed where I was, slowly rising back into myself. Pain lanced into my head where it had struck the keel. My body was half-submerged in the slushing well. Every bit of me burned hot and cold at the same time.
Sewel searched for the brig, his head swiveling in panic. “Where is it?” He stepped toward the stern and braced the gunwale as he rose to see farther away, his back turned to me.
I struggled upright. Everything blurred and spun. I had waves of my own now, waves inside me. My eyes fell to the oars. I picked one up and crawled toward Sewel, fighting against the wildly pitching wherry. As we sank into the trough of a wave, where the water smoothed, I saw my chance. I reached back and swung the oar with every bit of strength in me.
The paddle struck Sewel between the shoulder blades with a deep thud. A jolt shot through my arms. Rattled every knuckle in my spine. Sewel flew forward and plunged into the foamy water. He disappeared without a splash, the sea swallowing him whole.
That very instant, I snatched up the other oar and rowed for my life.
Behind me, I heard Sewel roaring in the water, promising to end my life, to destroy me this very night. I kept heaving at the oars, my head pounding. Blood blearing my eyes.
I didn’t know what I’d just done. Everything felt broken and twisted like a nightmare.
To my horror, I saw the Baines turning back for Sewel. I had no idea how they’d heard him, nor how they were managing to steer, as my paddles found no grip in the spumy water. The storm tides swept me toward the grounded brig and there was nothing I could do about it.
As I drew closer, the ship’s bell tolled louder and I could hear the desperate shouts of the men aboard. Wave after wave struck the brig, smashing it against the reef. Some washed clean over its decks and sent men tumbling into the same salt water I tasted on my tongue.
I didn’t know how long I’d been watching when at last the brig surrendered to the surging waves and rolled like a cowardly dog. It finally cleared the reef belly-up, leaving a mess of timber, canvas, and thrashing men in its wake.
Sobs pushed up as I listened to their dying screams. I fought to row toward them, but my efforts were useless and only made my shoulders and thighs burn. As the tides swept me away from the wreck, I slid the useless oars into the well and curled against the curve of the bulwark.