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Chapter Four

Sawyer spit out a mouthful of water and coughed. The cold lake had shocked him for a moment, and he hadn’t been able to move. It took aching lungs and an iron will to swim for the surface. The icy air rushed into his lungs even as the frigid water slowed his limbs. He had little time to get out and warmed up, or he would be the first casualty.

Where was his crew? He spun, but in the darkness it was difficult to see.

Shouts came from all around. Someone hung a lantern over the water, and Sawyer spotted one, two, three heads bobbing on the surface. All the crew had survived, but the overturned hull of the mackinaw drifted farther and farther away with each wave.

Again the light shone toward him, and the shouted words became clearer.

“This way!”

The rolling waves splashed against his face. He rubbed the water from his eyes. That cost him effort. His legs were growing sluggish. Soon he wouldn’t be able to move them any longer, and he would sink beneath the seas.

Fight!

Something inside him pushed him to move toward the lantern. It must be on another boat. Maybe even the steamship. Their lanterns wouldn’t have survived the capsizing.

“Grab hold!”

A life ring landed nearby. Sawyer grabbed it as best he could, but his fingers wouldn’t grasp it. He slung an arm through the center and felt himself moving through the water toward the light.

“My crew!” He couldn’t accept rescue while his crew languished in the water. He let go of the life ring.

“Hang on! We have them,” the voice from above shouted.

Sawyer threaded his other arm through the ring and tried to hang on, but he kept slipping off. Then someone grabbed onto his arms and lifted him from the icy water. Sawyer clawed and scrambled as best he could until he ended up on the slanted deck of the doomed steamer.

“Tuggman, Calloway, Edwards,” he croaked.

“Here, sir,” each said in turn.

Sawyer closed his eyes in gratitude as a heavy blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of hot and painfully strong coffee was put in his hands.

“Some rescue.” He drew in a ragged breath as he recalled the moment they’d capsized.

They’d been near the steamer, ready to hand over the rescue line when a wave caught the mackinaw and flipped it over in a second. Sawyer hadn’t had time to react. One moment he was completing his mission, and the next he was in the water.

“We got the line you brought,” said an unfamiliar voice.

The rescue line had made it, but what good would it be without the mackinaw? Unless one of the ship’s boats could be launched.

“Your boat,” he gasped.

“Already preparing for the first passengers.”

Passengers! Sawyer’s eyelids shot open. Fiona had been upset about her niece. “Is there a young girl on board?”

An older gentleman stepped into the lantern light. By his somber and simple attire, he was either a preacher or part of one of those clans who advocated simplicity.

The man tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. “Well, there are several young women under my care, but they are already spoken for.”

Sawyer couldn’t fathom what the man meant, but it wasn’t what he needed to know. “I’m talking about a little girl. Seven years old.”

“Oh.” The gentleman’s manner eased. “No children aboard.”

Sawyer heaved a sigh. At least Fiona could rest easy on that account.

The deck shook and slanted more severely. Sawyer slid toward the deckhouse and caught his balance before he slipped back into the water. This wreck was in a precarious position.

He pushed to his feet. “We have to get the passengers off now. Women first.”

If God heard prayers, the rest of them would make it to shore alive.

* * *

“The first survivors are ashore!”

The hurried shout came from a windblown mill worker who opened the door to the keeper’s quarters.

“Survivors?” Fiona pulled herself from gloomy thoughts. “Who?”

“Passengers.” Having delivered his message, the man left with a slam of the door.

“Mary Clare. It has to be,” Fiona whispered. “Maybe Sawyer.” At Mrs. Calloway’s grim expression, she added, “And Mr. Calloway.”

“They’d send the women and children first. If your niece was on board, she’s here now.” Mrs. Calloway grabbed a stack of blankets and piled them in Fiona’s arms. She then took the rest. “Regardless of who it is, they’ll need warmin’ up, and that’s our job. Follow me.”

The girl who’d first greeted them opened the door to let them out even while her mother assured them that she wouldn’t be far behind with the hot coffee.

The moment Fiona stepped outside, the wind slapped the breath from her. Sand stung her face. She squinted against it and could make out a small group huddled atop the dune. They were all standing. If survivors, they must be freezing in this wind.

Mrs. Calloway plowed toward them. Fiona followed.

Each step felt like slogging through knee-deep snow, thanks to the force of the wind coming at them. They hadn’t far to go. Shuttered lanterns and the light cast from the lighthouse guided the way. Mrs. Calloway arrived first, but she didn’t hand a blanket to anyone. Fiona hastened her step. Moments later, she too reached the small group of men and women. She recognized each one as a citizen of Singapore.

“Where are they? The survivors?”

“Not here yet.” Mrs. Calloway point to the blackness in front of them where the dune dropped off toward the angry lake.

Sawyer had disappeared down that dune. For the last time. Fiona caught herself. Assuming the worst wouldn’t help the situation. She would be needed soon, and one of those survivors might well be Mary Clare.

She strained to see into the darkness, but shouts met her ears before anyone crested the dune. Though the words weren’t distinct, the intent was clear. Someone needed help.

“We’re right here,” Mrs. Calloway shouted. Her strong alto was well-practiced in giving orders that could be heard throughout the boardinghouse. In this case, that voice cut through the howling gale and gave comfort to the survivors.

Fiona tensed. Soon she would know.

Long minutes passed before the first figures appeared. The light was too poor to make out faces, but it was obviously a group of women with two men. No children.

“Mary Clare.” Her niece’s name slipped from her mouth. Had she drowned, or was she not on the ship?

Fiona raced to meet the group, Mrs. Calloway on her heels.

The men took the blankets, one at a time, from her arms and gave them to the women. Even in this poor light, Fiona could tell they were all young, perhaps eighteen to twenty years of age, and dressed in simple dark gowns. Each one gratefully wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as Mrs. Calloway directed them out of the wind and toward the keeper’s quarters.

“Is that everyone?” Fiona asked the men, who were heading back down the dune.

“No, ma’am,” one oilskin-clad man responded. “Just the first of ’em.”

Fiona tried to ask more, but the men sprinted down the dune. Before she could follow, Mrs. Calloway called for her in that strident tone of hers that allowed no argument. Fiona worked her way back to the women, who were huddled sipping steaming mugs of coffee in the shelter of the lighthouse.

“Take them to the boardinghouse,” Mrs. Calloway instructed. “Pearl and Amanda will be there to help you get them situated.”

“But—” Leaving the rescue scene was the last thing Fiona wanted to do, but Mrs. Calloway shot her a look that reminded Fiona of her mother. That look meant there would be no negotiation. Fiona was expected to obey. But so many questions were unanswered. “Sawyer,” she began.

Mrs. Calloway cut her off. “If he lived, you’ll see him soon enough. If he died, he’s in God’s hands.”

End of discussion.

Fiona turned to the ladies, who had followed the conversation with wide eyes. By Fiona’s count, there were six of them, all dressed identically.

“Are you able to walk?” Fiona asked.

Each woman nodded.

“We’re going down the dune into town. See the two-story building with all the lights in the windows?”

One of the women followed Fiona’s outstretched arm and nodded.

“It’s the boardinghouse,” Fiona explained. “You can warm up there and have a place to sleep.”

“And soup and bread,” Mrs. Calloway interjected. “Jane sent a kettle there with her oldest. We’ll take care of the rest here before sending them on.” She squeezed Fiona’s arm and shouted in her ear. “Don’t fret. God has Mr. Sawyer and your niece in his care.”

As Fiona headed down the slope with the ladies, she hoped that care left them both on this earth. While watching the young women converse with each other, she realized the opportunity to find out if Mary Clare was on the ship stood right in front of her. She hurried to join them.

“Excuse me, but were there any children on board?” Fiona asked rather breathlessly.

The women looked at each other and shook their heads.

“A little girl?” Fiona prompted. “About seven years old. Dark brown hair.” She began to indicate her niece’s height, but it had been a long time since she’d last seen Mary Clare—longer than mere months, more like a year. The girl could be much taller by now.

“No, ma’am,” the oldest looking one said. “No children at all.”

Fiona breathed out a sigh of relief. God did answer prayer.

* * *

Sawyer was shaking by the time he got into the lighthouse keeper’s quarters. Even sitting next to the kitchen stove didn’t warm his fingers and toes. The pea soup and buttered bread did more to shake off the chill. The men buzzed in and out, boasting about the perilous rescue and the fact that they’d saved everyone before the ship broke up.

He didn’t have the strength to boast. Instead he ate more of the soup and tried to soak in the heat from the stove.

“Out, out.” Mrs. Blackthorn and Mrs. Calloway waved their arms as if shooing crows from a cornfield.

“You men must have someplace better to tell your tales than in the middle of the kitchen,” Mrs. Blackthorn added.

Mrs. Calloway nodded in agreement. “Mr. Roland brought dry clothes for those of you who are wet through to the bone.”

“You can change in the parlor.” Mrs. Blackthorn led them away. “The drapes are drawn, and the stove’s got it toasty as can be. You’ll feel a whole lot better once you’re dry.”

Gradually the kitchen cleared out except for Mrs. Calloway, who gave Sawyer a sharp look.

“That applies to you too, Mr. Sawyer. Go and get into some dry clothes.”

The woman reminded him of his nanny when he was a boy. Mrs. Dougherty didn’t take one bit of nonsense from Sawyer or his brother, Jamie. The memory brought a chuckle to his lips.

Mrs. Calloway braced her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing funny about freezin’ half to death. Get into some dry clothes. That’s an order.”

The smile died on Sawyer’s lips. He’d heard his share of orders during the war. Whether they were foolish or wise, he was expected to obey without question. Mrs. Calloway clearly envisioned herself as the field general. But Sawyer was so exhausted that his legs could collapse if he tried to stand. Until the soup revived him, he preferred sitting right where he was.

He tugged at his thick wool shirt. “Everything is pretty dry already from the stove’s heat.”

“Nonsense. You men don’t know what’s good for you. Now, hurry along.” As if to emphasize her command, she walked toward the kitchen door, where she waited expectantly.

“If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll finish the soup first. It’s taking off the chill.”

Mrs. Calloway sighed. “Can’t talk sense into a hardheaded man.”

“I promise to change into dry clothes once I finish eating.” Sawyer placed a hand over his heart as a pledge.

“I suppose that’ll have to do.” An odd smile twisted her lips. “I expect one other thing’ll help warm you right through.” She lowered her voice from a shout to normal volume. “I oughtn’t be tellin’ you, but Miss Fiona pretty near fainted when she heard your boat had gone down.”

“She did?” Sawyer found that difficult to believe. Fiona was not prone to fainting spells. In fact, she was the strongest woman under trying conditions that he’d ever met.

“Of course.” Mrs. Calloway waved a hand. “A woman who thinks she’s lost someone she loves can lose her head.”

“You mean her niece.” Sawyer couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to relay the information to Fiona. “Tell her that there weren’t any children aboard.”

“I’m not talkin’ about her niece. By now, she’ll have heard that the little one wasn’t on the ship.” Mrs. Calloway moved close. “You know exactly who I mean. When the word came in that the rescue boat capsized, she was beside herself.”

Sawyer grimaced at the matchmaking attempt. “Must have been concerned for everyone. After all, everyone can see she set her cap on Carson Blakeney.”

“The Carson Blakeney who dashed out of town without bothering to say goodbye? Balderdash. He’s not worth the clothes on his back.”

Sawyer knew that, but Fiona didn’t. Her shock when he told her of Blakeney’s departure made that clear. The biting retort that followed still stung. “She made it perfectly clear that I don’t measure up to her standards.”

Mrs. Calloway clucked her tongue. “Do you always believe everything a woman tells you?”

Sawyer swallowed the memory of Julia’s hidden attraction to another man. That was another woman and another time. Fiona was different. “Shouldn’t I?”

Mrs. Calloway laughed and threw up her hands as she left the kitchen. “Young people these days.”

Sawyer savored another spoonful of pea soup while her words sank in. Mrs. Calloway believed Fiona liked him. The idea warmed his heart. Then again, her obvious desire to marry coupled with the arrival of her niece could bring a whole lot more attention than he was prepared to accept. He couldn’t take on a wife and family. Not now. Not even for Fiona.