Hannah struggled to get free of her. “Let go of me. I won’t leave him out there.”
Billy shoved Hannah away from the boat and struggled up from the waves. Hannah reached for her. Her eyes squinted through the mist and blast of the sea while Billy swung one leg over the side of the boat and climbed aboard. Hannah tried to reach her against the suck of the water, but she staggered back and fell into the waves.
Billy pushed the boat from the beach with one oar, then sat on the center seat and rowed hard.
***
Hannah watched the surfboat rise and bow in the air over each rolling wave until it disappeared into the mist of the storm. White foam crashed on the beach at Hannah’s feet. She ran to her supply bag by the base of the stairs for the spyglass. With an eye to the glass, she brought the wreck into focus, but in the rolling surf she could only make out a blur of Billy as she rose and fell near the wreck. There was no sign of the captain.
She watched through the glass, struggling for some indication of what was happening, but she lost sight of Billy and the surfboat. A bare edge of the schooner was visible above the waves, a hairline on the horizon. The waves grew taller and rolled harder onto the beach. She dropped the spyglass in the sand and ran to the little skiff.
“Come on, help me get the skiff in the water,” Hannah said to the sailors.
“You can’t go out, ma’am, not in that.”
“I can and I will and you will help me or your captain will drown. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“No, ma’am,” one of the sailors said, looking away from her like a scolded dog.
The men made light work of lifting the skiff into the water. It looked small amid the waves and Hannah knew she shouldn’t take it out, but where was Billy? With two hard pulls against the waves Hannah was in deep water. The boat rose nearly vertical then dropped hard into a trough, and then lifted up again. Hannah pressed her feet against the back seat for balance and leaned her body into the rise of the boat. She could do this, she told herself, even as the skiff shivered and creaked beneath her. Never had she rowed into such a wind.
When one of the seams began to leak, she ignored it and turned to get her bearings on the wreck while a thin stream of water trickled up through the boards. She still couldn’t see Billy. When a giant wave swept the boat up high in the air, Hannah’s stomach dropped. She hovered over the sea, so high she could see white crested waves rolling toward shore in every direction. She clenched the oars so that she wouldn’t lose them. Time stopped and held her in its hands, and she turned to search for Billy, but there was only the tilting mass of the wreck, and she was afraid. Her boat was small and the beach far away. She wanted Billy.
Then the wave began to move and her mind came back to her task. Feet against the stern seat, she set the oars. The boat dropped vertically, as if down a shaft, and slammed onto the surface of water. The bones in Hannah’s buttocks yelped, her neck screamed as the boat began to take on water through a split seam. She bent forward to eye the damage. The plank on the bottom of the boat was going to go. She had to reach the surfboat if she was going to make it. She set her oars and rowed toward the wreck. She was close. She had to keep rowing, and when the wreck came into view, she pulled against the pain in her body, pulled until her body was numb and pain was a white light that surged through her limbs. Water leaked into the boat through the split seam, and the boat grew heavy.
She heard the wreck, heard the way the waves crashed against the hull then splashed into the air in the sound of defeat. Hannah rowed against the increasing weight in the skiff, telling herself it was no different than carrying a boatload of men. She didn’t consider the danger. She couldn’t, or she wouldn’t be able to find Billy.
When she saw the surfboat, Billy wasn’t in it. Hannah’s stomach clutched, as if she’d been lifted from a wave and then dropped. The captain sat hunched over in the stern seat with a life jacket on, one hand on either side of the rail for balance as the boat tossed in the waves. Hannah rowed up close to him and pulled in her oars. She reached back for the bow line and tossed it to the captain so that he could fasten it to the stern of the surfboat and she could float behind.
“Where’s Billy?”
“He came aboard to help me. He’s there behind the mast.”
Hannah leaned across the boat until she spotted Billy.
“What’s taking so long?”
“He wanted to see how the rope held and if we fastened it correctly, something about the instructions on that little board you sent out. He said something about trying to understand what happened with the lifesaving rig.”
“Billy!” Hannah yelled as loud as she could. She cupped her hands to her mouth and called into the wind. “Billy!”
When Billy heard Hannah’s voice, she climbed along the rail toward the two boats tossing wildly in the waves. Hannah’s feet were covered with water now, and she reached down for the baler. She scooped out water as fast as she could to empty the bilge, but the water came in fast. When a tall wave crashed over its side, a wall of water landed in the skiff, the seam split wide open, and the plank on the bottom of the boat tore from the stern seat to the bow in a sound like thunder. No baler would help her now. Another plank gave way, and the sea rushed into the boat, which went under stern first. The bow lifted then sank until only the rope rail showed beneath the surface of water. Hannah was pulled down in the rush of water as she swam toward the surfboat, toward Billy.
Waves carried her away from safety, and she watched the surfboat’s white hull, full and promising, grow smaller as she drifted away on the tide.
Billy screamed from the schooner. “Hannah, swim!” She yelled at the captain, “Get the life ring.”
Billy leapt from the schooner into the surfboat and untied it from the wreck, then she untied the sinking skiff and rowed toward Hannah. Hannah felt the weight of her clothes, and she struggled to remove her jacket, then her sweater, kicking her feet to keep herself afloat, but for all her strength, she wasn’t a good enough swimmer.
Billy rowed parallel to the waves to avoid the rise and fall. She saw Hannah’s coat, drifting just beneath the surface. Billy ordered the captain to get the life ring at the ready. Hannah had floated out of sight, and Billy rowed frantically in the direction of the tide, searching over the waves and yelling at the captain to crawl to the bow of the boat and scan the water.
“There, she’s there!” He leaned forward as if his entire body could indicate the direction.
Hannah struggled against the sea, her arms already so exhausted from rowing the boat, she could barely move them. A deep ache began to settle into her. She was tired, more tired than she had ever been, and she let herself drift beneath the waves for moments at a time, until the surface was the light of another world that she could watch as if from a dream. When the pressure in her chest compelled her, she kicked herself up into the air and the relief of breathing, until she exhausted herself once again and let herself sink, deeper this time into the ease of not swimming.
“Where is she?” Billy yelled at the captain.
“She was right there.”
When Hannah’s head bobbed up, Billy called to her. “Hannah, Hannah!”
But Hannah didn’t hear her over the sound of the wind, and she let herself sink below the surface. It wasn’t so bad, she told herself. She could see the surface right there. She didn’t let herself go too deep, just enough to rest. She closed her eyes to the darkness of the water and felt that she could sleep if not for the pull in her chest, the pull that exploded and made her kick to the surface for air.
“Hannah, grab the life ring!”
The captain threw the ring with remarkable precision to Hannah’s flailing arms, but she sank out of sight before she could grab it. He pulled the life ring in again and held it at the ready.
Billy maneuvered the boat as close as she could get to where she’d seen Han
nah. She didn’t want to get too close. What if Hannah came up, and the boat blocked her effort to get into the air? What if she knocked her head on the bottom of the boat and lost consciousness? Billy’s mind raced with all of the things that could go wrong. They had to get her out of the water. The cold water alone could kill her.
This time when Hannah came up, it was only for a second, as if she only had time for a single, quick breath before she went under again. Billy kicked off her shoes, removed her jacket, and took the life ring from the captain. She jumped into the water and swam. The waves lifted her up while she struggled against them, but the current carried her toward Hannah.
She treaded water around the spot where Hannah had risen, and when Hannah came up, she kicked toward her. “Wait!” But Hannah was gone. Billy, against her better judgment and everything she knew to be true, let go of the life ring and dove below the surface of the water. She kicked down into the blur of the ocean, her eyes open and searching until she saw a sinking shape. She kicked against the pull of her trousers, kicked until she reached Hannah, drifting with her eyes closed. Billy grabbed her from behind. She reached beneath Hannah’s arms and around her chest to get a firm hold before kicking toward the surface.
When they broke into the air, Billy waved with one arm for the captain, who had manned the surfboat and floated a hundred yards from where they’d come up. With Billy holding her up, Hannah rested. She stopped kicking and closed her eyes, let her feet float back and her body lean against Billy.
“Don’t leave me, Hannah. Stay with me.”
The captain approached in the surfboat and tossed the life ring to them. Billy hooked her free arm into the ring, and the captain braced his leg against the rail to haul them in. He leaned over and grabbed Hannah under the arms while Billy tried to help from the water as he pulled her aboard. Billy pulled herself up over the stern with the captain’s help. She sat in the middle seat but was too tired to take up the oars. They drifted in the tide, the sea a storm of waves tossing them around. Waves rolled in from as far out as they could see. There was no telling where they came from, or why, they just rolled on and on, battering the shore with their endless weight.
***
Hannah refused to be carried up the beach. Instead, she leaned against Billy as they staggered toward the fire. Billy ordered the men to bring the boat in, and they lined up four along each side, making easy work of carrying it up the beach. “Coil these ropes,” Billy said, holding Hannah against her. “Let’s get this gear stowed as well.” The men worked in sluggish silence. Billy was in charge now. Hannah slumped against her. The men made room for Hannah and Billy around the fire. “We saved the captain,” Hannah whispered, and they gathered around to shelter her from the wind.
22
Once they were inside, Hannah dragged herself to the dining table and slumped into a chair. That’s when she saw the paper Billy had used to track her progress along the beach, the careful checkmarks made at half-hour intervals, every time Hannah rang the bell. She ran her fingers over the scratches and imagined Billy sitting here waiting for the sound of the bell and then making each mark.
“You need to get into dry clothes,” Billy said, and held a hand toward Hannah to help her up from the chair.
While she and Billy changed into dry clothes, the crew warmed themselves around the fire and ate soup with biscuits. The house was humid, the heat of the fire mixed with their bodies, the wet from the storm, and the men’s clothes. Their silence weighed on the room, and with the thick air became its own kind of fog. They didn’t want to wait for the next day’s boat to Boston; they wanted to get as far away from Dangerfield as they could. Briggs sat beside Billy at the table.
“We’ll want to be leaving as soon as we can,” he told her. “No need to stay here.”
“You need some rest,” Billy said.
“We can rest on our way back to Boston. The men need to keep moving.”
“If that’s what you want. There’s an afternoon boat.”
The men cleaned up after themselves, and took one last stand by the fire, two at a time, warming their backsides before thanking Hannah for her bravery and kindness. She was disinclined to accept their gratitude, but did so as graciously as she could.
April 8: Starling aground, wind SW 15, first use of lifesaving apparatus success until ship gone down. All sailors brought to shore alive.
Once the men had left, Hannah pulled on her nightdress and felt unusually hot, her body still humming with the rescue. It could take days to come down off a rescue, days to process the strange mix of energy and exhaustion. She flung the window open and stood before it with the wind on her face, blowing her hair back. Hannah knew now what it must be like to drown, the slow giving in to rest, the quiet underwater sleep. But then she realized the last gasps and lungs filled with water were something she could never know.
Billy had kept her safe. Hannah didn’t blame herself for falling into the water. She was trying to save Billy, whom she now knew didn’t need saving. Not anymore.
During the rescue she’d watched Billy move with authority. What struck her most about the rescue was Billy’s complete competence, her ability not only to manage the lifesaving rig, but also to direct the men in such a way as to keep them safe and make use of the ones who weren’t too depleted to help.
Billy was part of her daily life. She’d entered into every hour of Hannah’s awareness. Every spare moment Hannah wondered what Billy was doing, and if she would do it with her.
Hannah knew why Billy looked away from her when she changed her clothes in front of the fire. When Hannah had seen Billy half dressed, she’d stared open-eyed like an animal in the torch beam, transfixed by the woman’s body beneath her very male physicality. And Billy had let her look, had wanted her to look. It was the complexity of Billy’s sexuality that drew her in: a woman’s heart listening to every word and understanding; the way Billy sat with her legs apart, elbows on the table while she blew across a cup of coffee; her fierce determination pushing a wheelbarrow full of mulch and fidgeting with her chest strap. She thought of how hard Billy had worked on the lifesaving rig. And the drawing she’d made of Hannah, as if she’d been able to see Hannah in her most intimate self from the very beginning. She could question herself and give herself time to figure out whether she could manage her desire, but every time she put down her pen, or picked up a plate, there Billy was, looking back at her, as if to say, This is our life.
***
Huddled together in the wagon, the men discussed their plans, who would sign on to another ship; who would visit family; who would never go to sea again. Their voices were light, drifting on a southwest breeze that carried a heavy scent of brine.
Briggs sat next to Billy on the wagon seat.
“You don’t need to tell anyone you saw me,” Billy whispered.
“There’s a bounty for your capture and return to Jamaica. They’ll hang you, just like they hang men. Who’s to say I won’t be back?”
Billy stopped the wagon and shoved Briggs back by the shoulders. “You’ll not tell a soul or I’ll kill you right now. I saved your life, and I’m not afraid to take it back.”
“I know, I know,” Briggs said. “You saved my life. I was just saying—”
“You think you’d survive carrying me back there? What would they do with you once I told them who you were?”
Briggs stared into the creased leather of his soaking wet shoes where they rested on the boards. He slid his hands up and down his thighs as if preparing himself to say something, but he said nothing.
As the wagon continued along the road, Billy said, “When did you leave the crew?”
“Not long after you. I signed onto the Starling to get north. I’m going to Boston to get on a fishing boat, try to make some honest money, not get myself killed.” Briggs spat over the side of the wagon.
The sounds of harbor wafted over the tre
es, and as they made the turn, the packet boat bobbed at the dock. “That’s your boat,” Billy said.
“Well, I hope I never see you again,” Briggs said. “One wreck is enough for me. You better keep an eye on your lady friend, or she’ll be the next one you drag out of the sea.”
Billy delivered the men to the boat and left them talking to the men on the docks, their hands gesturing, telling their tale of the wreck. By now word had spread, and the locals wanted to hear everything, as if reliving the wreck would inure them to devastation of their own. Billy walked among them but left the reporting to the men who’d survived. They were the ones with the story to tell. As she walked toward the horse and wagon, she eyed a ship navigating out of the harbor, sails still furled. The stillness of the ship while the men waited for open water reminded her of the Alice K. How long since she’d thought of that? On the Alice K, she’d been one of the crew and understood firsthand the quiet before the action. If she had to, she could set sail again, head north, away from her past. Start over again someplace else.
She climbed atop the wagon and shook the reins until the horse lifted his head, as if sniffing the breeze before heading toward the road. Only last night, she’d been in Hannah’s bed. What hot torment that had been. She’d hardly slept, moving only to accommodate Hannah’s slightest motion. She’d watched the lighthouse beam swing across the room, and she held onto the familiar pulse as if it could save her from the heat of the woman beside her. Then the storm.
It frightened her to think of the danger Hannah would row into without someone there to stop her. She didn’t want to leave Hannah alone, even for a minute. What if she went on the beach to survey the wreckage and something on the water drew her attention? Is that a waving hand? Hannah would be in the rowboat without taking time to think. How many times had Hannah done just that? She’d rowed out to save that girl from drowning, and nearly drowned herself in the process. She’d rescued Mesha and the crew on the boat from Jamaica. And she’d rescued Billy from the wreck of the Cynthia Rose. Weather didn’t bother her. She seemed to thrive in it, as if it echoed some inner tempest. She was more alive in a storm than in the calm of an afternoon’s work around the lighthouse, baking bread and feeding the chickens, washing the windows so the light shown far to sea.
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