‘He’ll be better below deck until the storm is done. There’s nothing to be done for the wench now. He should have taken her below before the storm reached its height. We haven’t time to bother with this now or we’ll all end up at the bottom of the ocean. The girl is lost—forget her and get about your work or you’ll feel the bosun’s lash!’
The storm had gone as if it had never been. Driven south by the furious winds, the French ship, Lady Maribelle, had headed for shelter as soon as it struck and ridden out the worst of the weather. Now it was putting out to sea again, making its way up the coast to Normandy. Hassan was on deck, staring out towards the coastline. He was one of the first to see the debris tossed by the still-choppy water. He shaded his eyes with a hand, because after a storm like the one the previous night it was not unexpected that a ship might have been capsized and sunk. He shouted to one of the crew and pointed, and others came crowding to the side of the Lady Maribelle, staring at what was possibly the wreckage of a ship. It was obvious that some cargo had been lost and part of a mast.
‘What is that?’ Stefan asked as he caught sight of what looked like a half-clothed body. ‘Man overboard! There is someone caught in the debris.’
Excited voices echoed his discovery and the decision was made to put a boat over the side. They all knew that whoever was in the sea was more likely to be dead than alive, but every man jack aboard was more than willing to help in the recovery. They lived by the sea and sometimes died by it, and if there was a small chance that the man in the water was alive they would do their best for him, because one day it might be one of them.
Hassan and Stefan joined the volunteers. Six more of the crew went with them as the boat was lowered and cast off. It took only a few minutes to reach the debris, and as they drew close silence fell over the men, as it became apparent that the body was that of a young woman. The sea had torn much of her clothing away from her, and only a thin shift covered the bottom half of her body, her breasts exposed to their eyes and the elements.
Stefan leaned over the side of the boat, slipping into the water to grab hold of the body. Her limbs had become entangled with the ropes attached to the mast and it was this that had kept her afloat. He cut her free with his knife and then dragged her back to the boat, where eager hands reached out to haul her on board.
‘Is she dead?’ one of the sailors asked. ‘Poor lass.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Stefan said. ‘I think one of her hands twitched as I cut her free. Hassan, give her your cloak, please. Cover her for decency’s sake, whether she be alive or dead.’
Hassan did as Stefan asked, wrapping the thick, soft material about her. As he did so her eyelids flickered and her lips moved, though no sound came out.
‘Allah be praised,’ Hassan cried. “Tis a miracle that the waters did not claim her.’
‘Had it been winter, she could not have survived the night in these waters,’ Stefan said. ‘We must get her back on board as swiftly as possible, for she may yet die if we do not bring back some warmth to her body.’
The sailors made a murmur of agreement. Women were often considered to be unlucky on board ship, but no one grudged the poor lass her chance at life.
‘The Seagull, that be the name of the ship that was lost,’ one of the sailors said as he caught sight of some writing on one of the chests. ‘I cannot see any other survivors nor yet more bodies. Mayhap they were swept further down by the tide.’
‘We’ll keep an eye out,’ one of the sailors said. ‘But the woman comes first. She clings to life, but only God can save her now.’
Stefan looked at Hassan, shaking his head as he saw the unspoken protest. Sailors were simple folk and superstitious enough without making them suspicious. If Hassan told them that the woman would live if she were properly cared for, they might think him a dealer in the black arts, especially because of his looks.
‘I shall care for her,’ Stefan said. They would not deny him—he was a nobleman and respected in the country he had made his own. ‘I saw her first and I claimed her from the sea, therefore she is my responsibility. If she still lives when we reach shore, I shall take her to my home. If she recovers, she will need help to return to her home, wherever that may be.’
Stefan was helped to carry the young woman’s body up the rope ladder, and more hands reached down to lift her on to the deck. Some of the sailors crossed themselves as they looked down at her. Wrapped in Hassan’s cloak, it was possible only to see her face and her hair, which was a dark blonde and soaked with salt water. Her skin was pale, her lips blue and yet her eyelids flickered and her lips moved slightly, proving that she was still alive.
“Tis a miracle…’
‘Or the devil’s work,’ one sailor said and crossed himself again. ‘How is it possible that she survived a night like that in the sea?’
‘She was caught by ropes and the broken mast kept her head above water,’ Stefan said. He bent down and gathered the unconscious woman into his arms. ‘I shall take her to my cabin until we make land.’
Below in the cabin, which was the best on board, Stefan laid the woman on his bed. He looked at Hassan over his shoulder as he followed him into the room.
‘We must get her out of what remains of her clothing and wrap her in as many blankets as we have. I have some strong brandy wine in my sea chest. When we have her dry and warm, we shall give her some. Once we are home, Ali will help her—but she may not survive the journey.’
‘It is fortunate that we found her in time,’ Hassan said. ‘Allah must have meant it, for otherwise we should have passed her by. He has given her to us, my lord. From now on her life is in our hands.’
‘As Allah wills it?’ Stefan shot him a suspicious look. ‘Yet you would have denied them earlier, for I saw it in your face.’
‘They are ignorant fools, for they would do nothing to help her. Allah has sent her to us, but her fate is in our hands; if we did nothing, left her to live or die as God wills it, as they would given the chance, she would die.’
Stefan’s face was harsh as he bent over the young woman. He rubbed her skin with a drying cloth until she felt dry to the touch and some warmth started to come back to her body, and then he wrapped her in every blanket and cloak he could find. He would not argue with Hassan on the subject of religion, for he did not believe in God. Once he had been Christian, but now he had his own faith, which was to give justice for justice and hurt for hurt. He had been forced to live by the sword and he knew that in time he would die by it. There was no room for softness or religion in his life. However, he was not a cruel man and he did not take life without good cause. He had pulled this young woman from the sea more alive than dead, and he would do all he could to make her live.
Harry came to himself to find a young sailor bending over him. He groaned because his head ached. For a moment he could not think what had happened to him, and he stared at the sailor blankly.
‘What happened to me?’
‘Someone hit you as we struggled to stop you jumping into the sea last night,’ the sailor said. ‘You would have gone after her, sir, and it was hopeless. She must have gone down like a stone when she hit the water, for there was no sign of her.’
‘Anne!’ Memory came flooding back. Harry sat up in alarm, his aching head forgotten as a deeper pain took hold. ‘My sister…she was swept overboard by a huge wave and I could not help her. What have I done? My father will blame me and he will be justified; I should have taken better care of her. She wanted to stay on deck while the storm raged, because she thought it exciting, but I should have made her go below. She is lost and I am at fault.’
‘No one could have seen it coming,’ the sailor said. ‘We rode the storm out because we headed inshore and sheltered for the night, but for a while it was