Shipwreck Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked not much older than William.
    “His mother will weep,” said Father Keegan.
    The parish hall door banged open, and more of the weary rescuers came in. They were carrying two more bodies, each wrapped in a tarp.
    “We managed to reach the ship, Father,” said one of them, a short, weather-beaten man and fellow Catholic. “It was stuck tight on the rocks, but it will be gone soon. The seas are breaking it to pieces.”
    “Good work, Saul. Put them at that end,” said Father Keegan.
    The men lowered their burdens carefully. Saul pointed down to one body. “This man hadn’t even made it to the rowboat. He was trapped below deck. We found him lying in one of the cabins.”
    The second tarpaulin appeared to be particularly heavy, and the men placed it on the ground with sighs of relief. Father Keegan opened that tarp first. He revealed the body of a young man, his blond hair and moustache full of bits of seaweed. He was wearing a thick wool coat trimmed with lush fur at the collar and cuffs, all soaked.
    “That one there in the fancy coat had climbed onto the reef,” said Saul. “He must have slipped, because he drowned stuck between two rocks. He’d been smarter to throw off his coat, if you ask me.” He took out a handkerchief and wiped his round face, which was sweating in spite of the cold. “I do believe that’s the lot. All dead except for the woman we brought in earlier. God rest their souls.”
    Saul blessed himself, touching the fingers of his right hand to his forehead, his breastbone, and the left and right sides of his chest in the shape of a cross.
    The rescuers stepped back. Father Keegan and Will went to examine the last body, the man found on board the ship.
    At that moment, the thin cry of a newborn came from behind the curtain. Everybody in the hall stopped what they were doing at the sound. Several of them, the Catholics, blessed themselves. The Methodist minister clasped his hands together and looked toward heaven in prayer.
    Mrs. Cameron came out from behind the curtain. “Father Keegan?” she said quietly. “We have need of you, Father. At once. The girl has delivered her baby, but I do believe she is not long for the living. Her colour’s very bad.”
    “And the infant?”
    “’Tis small, but she appears healthy enough.”
    “A girl child, then?”
    “Yes, Father.”
    The priest spoke to Will. “Come. If you are not afraid of the dead, you can tolerate the dying, even if it is a woman.”
    Mrs. Cameron drew aside the curtain, showing them the mattress on the floor where the young woman rested, covered by a blanket. Her clothes had been removed, and her naked arms lay outside the covers. The village women had unpinned her hair, which was a deep brown. Although it was still damp from the sea, Will could see that it would normally have been thick and glossy. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be hardly breathing. There was a purple bruise on the side of her jaw.
    “I think her ribs are broken. Her labour was very painful,” said Mrs. Cameron. “But she hardly complained. Poor little thing, she is still a child herself, if truth be told.”
    “Did she tell you her name?” the priest asked.
    “All she could say was her Christian name. It is Abigail.” The midwife lifted the girl’s limp hand. She was wearing a wedding band richer than any Will had seen before. Rubies on a wide circle of gold. “Whoever she is, she married well. The nightclothes we took off her are fine indeed.”
    The girl breathed in short gasps, and her skin was chalk white. Will’s heart went out to her. Even he knew she was dying.
    She opened her eyes, as blue as any he had seen. She saw the priest, and her face twisted with fear.
    “Father, why are you here? Am I to die, then?” Her voice was a whisper.
    “You are of the Catholic faith, child?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    The priest spoke gently. “Then I must prepare you to meet your maker, my daughter.”
    Father Keegan reached out and made the