Page 30 of A Fire in Their Hearts

T HE INSTANT I’M THROUGH THE shattered hull of the Crown of London, the sea embraces me with such ferocity that my body tumbles, turns and twists helplessly in the currents.

My chest feels squeezed in straps of iron as I fight the panic that threatens to overwhelm me, and when my head crashes into something, I almost lose my wits completely.

With no compassion for the poor soul so recently departed, I harshly push the lifeless body away.

It’s instinct that takes me to the surface.

For a long while I’m aware of nothing other than the urgent need to fill my lungs with air and not swallow more water.

The fight is a close one. Finally, some sense of sanity comes back to me.

The clouds are breaking up and as the full moon illuminates more of the surroundings, I realise that Hell is not flames and heat but dying men thrashing frantically, calling for help amongst the wreckage of the ship and those who will never call again.

The shore is close but there is no way through the mayhem and what strength I have is failing so fast I doubt that I can swim around it all.

Without any warning a hand grabs my leg and drags me under.

The man could be a friend or a stranger yet there is no thought in either of us to aid the other, just a primitive urge to survive as we wrestle under the waves.

In his terror he won’t let go, unaware that his actions will doom us both, while I alternate between punching him and trying to prize open his fingers.

Soon we’re so exhausted that neither of us can do anything other than simply drift apart.

I see moonlight above but have nothing left within me to try and reach the surface.

Violet .?.?. I love you .?.?.

Just as my eyes close my hair is yanked painfully and my body pulled to the surface.

‘Take the rope.’

I’m too confused to follow what is said, so my saviour forces my arm underneath a rope that is fixed to a large piece of floating timber.

Now I’m bound firmly and lay my head upon a wooden beam while once again I cough and splutter water from my lungs.

When I can eventually take in what’s happening nearby, I’m surprised at how far we’ve drifted.

The cries of drowning men are faint, either because of the distance or because there are few left alive.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone close.

The broken outline of the remains of the Crown of London is visible on the rocks.

For the first time I look at the man who’s saved my life.

I recognise his face, though I don’t know his name.

‘Thank you.’ It’s a poor acknowledgement of what he’s just done.

‘If we get the chance, we should move inland, as far from the shore as possible because the crew, damn their souls, will search for survivors to rearrest.’

‘Do you think there’ll be many?’

‘Survivors? We’re alive. Most bodies will likely end up near the wreck .?.?. the dead and the living.’

‘There’s someone I have to search for.’

‘Your wife, Samuel.’

‘You know!’

‘Do you really think you could keep such a thing secret? Many men knew but we would never betray a fellow Covenanter. Your reputation, and your hair, make you a well-known figure. I hope you find her. She’s a brave— Look out!’

I twist around to see a huge piece of wreckage heading straight towards us.

It’s travelling at a much greater speed than we are and I’m still frantically trying to free my arm when it hits.

Something sharp pierces my left thigh as we’re dragged aside, then once more I’m under the water.

This time I’m trapped and my arm feels as though it’s being stretched out of its socket.

I fear the sea is so hungry for my soul that it won’t let me go a third time, yet the wreckage continues its journey and I surface, so near unconscious with pain, exhaustion and the need for air that it’s several minutes before I realise there is no one else.

The man who saved me, whose name I didn’t even get, has gone.

‘Hey! Hey! Where are you?’

I call out to the empty water until I’m hoarse, but there is no reply or sign of him. I’m as alone as it’s possible to be. This final tragedy breaks me and I weep and cry and wail until I am no more than flotsam floating wherever the currents take me.

*?*?*

The first thing I’m aware of is vomiting water and coughing as I try to suck air into lungs that are soaked, like wet breeches hanging limply on a dreich day.

The second thing is cold so intense that my very bones feel as though they’re made of ice; each beat of my heart seems like it must surely be the last.

Through heaving gasps, I force myself to think. Sand .?.?. I’m lying on sand. My arm is still bound to the wreckage that has given me another chance of life. Slowly, I sit up. The pain from my thigh makes me shudder and I have to remain still until the nausea passes sufficiently to move again.

The storm is reduced to gusts that blow spray over me from the receding tide, though the sea remains angry, as though the numerous souls it’s devoured this night isn’t enough.

With fingers that barely move it takes ages to release my arm, which is so numb, it could be broken without me knowing. There’s nobody else in sight.

Inch by painful inch, I turn myself on to my knees then pause, not sure if I can stand.

But I have to walk if there is any hope of finding Violet.

Initially, the dizziness just about puts me flat on my face.

I carefully take a few steps. My leg is obviously not broken, though it’s doubtful I’ll get far.

The beach is long and narrow, bordering low cliffs.

Finding a path doesn’t take long but it’s treacherous to climb.

I slip, stumble and fall so often that my resolve begins to fade.

When I reach the top I’m forced to sit on a rock before deciding which direction to take.

There’s not a dwelling in sight and I begin to wonder whether this part of Orkney is inhabited, yet there is a track heading into the distance and the only option is to follow it, hoping that it’s made by humans and not animals.

I stagger, weave, beg for God’s help and mutter fragments of prayer that He will take care of Violet.

There is no reply, just the sound of the wind combined with my cries of pain and grief.

It seems impossible that I can walk far enough to reach any sort of habitation, yet I continue, a journey of horror that has no end, no pity.

Then I fall and can’t get up .?.?. can’t go on.

The urge to sleep is unbelievable. Violet is likely dead.

Perhaps if I simply lie down and rest I’ll meet her soon in Heaven.

Maybe she’s watching, waiting patiently for me to realise that all I have to do for us to be together is rest my head on that nearby rock .

.?. It’s soft .?.?. not a rock but a pillow, filled with hens’ feathers like the ones my mother used to have.

When Calum and I were young she always tucked us up in the box-bed, kissing our foreheads before leaving.

‘Mother .?.?.’

My head is almost on the pillow, eager for my mother’s kiss, when I hear a man shouting. It’s not real. He calls again .?.?. a name? I look up and in the distance see a light, then a dog barks and the man’s voice is gentler, almost lost in the wind, before the light disappears.

A door closing? A man and a dog? I glance down at my hand resting on the rock, which is hard and cold and slimy.

The Devil’s work!

In the end, it’s anger that gives me the strength to go on .?.?. anger at the injustice, the brutality, the killings of innocent people. When I try to walk my legs will barely move and I only manage a few yards before stumbling badly. I’m so weak, I suspect my thigh is bleeding heavily.

The world spins but I’m not giving up, desperate step after desperate step, my body shaking so violently that it seems my limbs must surely shatter like glass. Despite my determination, I sink slowly to the ground. God knows I’ve tried, but I’ve failed. In everything, I’ve failed.

Violet .?.?. my love. I’m sorry.

I manage to roll on to my back so that my last sights on earth may be of the stars and sky.

Far away there is a strange noise. A light appears just above my body.

Has God sent an angel? Suddenly the hideous face of a black beast fills my vision, its fierce, evil eyes so close to mine that I am gripped by an all-consuming terror.

The Devil has come for me.