Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [108]
Dawn came as they battled against the elements, and as the sky lightened so the wind dropped a little.
‘Keep bailing,’ Mary yelled, her voice just a croak. ‘We’ll get ashore, I promise you.’
‘Thank God,’ James murmured a few hours later as they sailed into a bay ringed with white sand. ‘And thank you, Mary, for having the courage to make us battle on.’
Mary smiled weakly. She felt sick with hunger and she was almost frightened to look at Emmanuel and Charlotte under the tarpaulin in case they were dead instead of sleeping. Maybe it was a victory, but right now she felt utterly defeated.
She had no recollection of coming ashore. The last thing she remembered was sailing close to the shoreline and then waking to find herself on soft, warm sand.
She sat up cautiously and looked around her, puzzled because the sun was in the east. She felt her clothes and they were dry, but stiff with salt. Alarmed by the utter silence, she tried to get up, but she was so stiff she could barely move.
As she turned her head she saw the men asleep under the shelter, Charlotte and Emmanuel tucked in between Will and James. There was the remains of a fire with a huge pile of mussel shells close to it, and the water cask was placed under a tree, a deep track in the sand showing how it had been rolled there after being filled.
All at once Mary guessed she must have fallen asleep or even passed out the day before, and the men had let her sleep undisturbed while they found food and water before finally falling asleep themselves.
That little kindness brought tears to her eyes, and gave her the strength to overcome her stiffness, to stand and stretch, then walk slowly over to the water cask. She drank greedily, mug after mug, until her stomach felt bloated, then she gobbled down the cold rice left in the cooking pot. Looking around, she saw it was a beautiful bay they’d come to, white sand, clear blue sea, and lush green vegetation all around.
Her heart seemed to swell up with gratitude, and she dropped to her knees to thank God for their safe deliverance from the storm.
Chapter thirteen
Sam Broome and James Martin stopped in their search for shellfish in the rock pools and sat down wearily.
‘Mary’s a hard task-master,’ James said with a hint of laughter in his voice. ‘But she’s a grand woman for all that.’ His breeches were so ragged now that they were hardly worth wearing, for most of his legs and parts of his buttocks were uncovered. Sam’s shirt and breeches were still in one piece but so threadbare that one more dip in the sea would probably see them float away.
Sam looked back along the beach where they could see Mary hanging washing on some bushes to dry. She’d insisted they were to fill the sack with shellfish or not return to the camp. ‘Aye, but she’s harder on herself than us,’ he replied. He knew Mary wouldn’t rest all day. When the washing was finished she too would be out looking for anything edible to supplement their provisions.
James nodded in agreement. He found it incredible that Mary could be so calm and controlled after what they’d all been through in the last couple of weeks. Just last night he had woken from the most terrifying nightmare, and been too scared to shut his eyes again. Even Will, who had put to sea many times in the foulest weather Cornwall could throw at a fisherman, admitted he’d never known anything like as bad. James believed they had looked into the very face of death that night when the anchor broke away from the sea bed, and it wasn’t surprising most of the men were reluctant to set sail again.
‘We would have all drowned but for Mary,’ Sam stated, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘Her courage and endurance puts us all to shame.’
James knew this was true, but it would make him feel uncomfortable to agree with Sam.
‘Aye, but you were always sweet on her,’ he teased instead. ‘You’d better keep your thoughts about her to yourself, Sam. Will can