Mail Order Sweetheart. Christine Johnson
when it comes our turn.”
“How can you be so calm when your husband’s part of the rescue party?”
“Faith in God above, child. Ernie is in God’s hands, and that’s the best place to be.”
Deep down Fiona knew Mrs. Calloway was right, but she couldn’t shake the fear. “My niece might be on that ship. My sister sent her here.”
“Oh, child.” Mrs. Calloway embraced her in a motherly hug. “God’s got hold of her. You have to believe that.”
Fiona was trying. “It’s so hard. What if...” She couldn’t finish the thought.
“Hush now. You just turn that precious girl over to the Lord’s care.” Right then and there, Mrs. Calloway prayed over the ship, the rescuers and the passengers, including Mary Clare.
A smidgen of peace wove through Fiona. Everything would be all right. She hoped.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs coming down from the tower. Both women looked toward the door to the tower. Fiona held her breath.
Mr. Blackthorn pushed open the tower door. His face was ashen. “The mackinaw’s gone under. They’re lost.”
Fiona gasped. Sawyer. All this time she’d been worried about her niece, who might not even be on the ship, when she should have prayed fervently for Sawyer. She had sent him out, had begged him to rescue her niece. Now he was gone? Guilt crashed over her. She moved her lips, but no sound came out of her mouth.
She’d sent Sawyer to the grave.
Sawyer spit out a mouthful of water and coughed. The cold lake had shocked him for a moment, and he hadn’t been able to move. It took aching lungs and an iron will to swim for the surface. The icy air rushed into his lungs even as the frigid water slowed his limbs. He had little time to get out and warmed up, or he would be the first casualty.
Where was his crew? He spun, but in the darkness it was difficult to see.
Shouts came from all around. Someone hung a lantern over the water, and Sawyer spotted one, two, three heads bobbing on the surface. All the crew had survived, but the overturned hull of the mackinaw drifted farther and farther away with each wave.
Again the light shone toward him, and the shouted words became clearer.
“This way!”
The rolling waves splashed against his face. He rubbed the water from his eyes. That cost him effort. His legs were growing sluggish. Soon he wouldn’t be able to move them any longer, and he would sink beneath the seas.
Fight!
Something inside him pushed him to move toward the lantern. It must be on another boat. Maybe even the steamship. Their lanterns wouldn’t have survived the capsizing.
“Grab hold!”
A life ring landed nearby. Sawyer grabbed it as best he could, but his fingers wouldn’t grasp it. He slung an arm through the center and felt himself moving through the water toward the light.
“My crew!” He couldn’t accept rescue while his crew languished in the water. He let go of the life ring.
“Hang on! We have them,” the voice from above shouted.
Sawyer threaded his other arm through the ring and tried to hang on, but he kept slipping off. Then someone grabbed onto his arms and lifted him from the icy water. Sawyer clawed and scrambled as best he could until he ended up on the slanted deck of the doomed steamer.
“Tuggman, Calloway, Edwards,” he croaked.
“Here, sir,” each said in turn.
Sawyer closed his eyes in gratitude as a heavy blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of hot and painfully strong coffee was put in his hands.
“Some rescue.” He drew in a ragged breath as he recalled the moment they’d capsized.
They’d been near the steamer, ready to hand over the rescue line when a wave caught the mackinaw and flipped it over in a second. Sawyer hadn’t had time to react. One moment he was completing his mission, and the next he was in the water.
“We got the line you brought,” said an unfamiliar voice.
The rescue line had made it, but what good would it be without the mackinaw? Unless one of the ship’s boats could be launched.
“Your boat,” he gasped.
“Already preparing for the first passengers.”
Passengers! Sawyer’s eyelids shot open. Fiona had been upset about her niece. “Is there a young girl on board?”
An older gentleman stepped into the lantern light. By his somber and simple attire, he was either a preacher or part of one of those clans who advocated simplicity.
The man tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. “Well, there are several young women under my care, but they are already spoken for.”
Sawyer couldn’t fathom what the man meant, but it wasn’t what he needed to know. “I’m talking about a little girl. Seven years old.”
“Oh.” The gentleman’s manner eased. “No children aboard.”
Sawyer heaved a sigh. At least Fiona could rest easy on that account.
The deck shook and slanted more severely. Sawyer slid toward the deckhouse and caught his balance before he slipped back into the water. This wreck was in a precarious position.
He pushed to his feet. “We have to get the passengers off now. Women first.”
If God heard prayers, the rest of them would make it to shore alive.
* * *
“The first survivors are ashore!”
The hurried shout came from a windblown mill worker who opened the door to the keeper’s quarters.
“Survivors?” Fiona pulled herself from gloomy thoughts. “Who?”
“Passengers.” Having delivered his message, the man left with a slam of the door.
“Mary Clare. It has to be,” Fiona whispered. “Maybe Sawyer.” At Mrs. Calloway’s grim expression, she added, “And Mr. Calloway.”
“They’d send the women and children first. If your niece was on board, she’s here now.” Mrs. Calloway grabbed a stack of blankets and piled them in Fiona’s arms. She then took the rest. “Regardless of who it is, they’ll need warmin’ up, and that’s our job. Follow me.”
The girl who’d first greeted them opened the door to let them out even while her mother assured them that she wouldn’t be far behind with the hot coffee.
The moment Fiona stepped outside, the wind slapped the breath from her. Sand stung her face. She squinted against it and could make out a small group huddled atop the dune. They were all standing. If survivors, they must be freezing in this wind.
Mrs. Calloway plowed toward them. Fiona followed.
Each step felt like slogging through knee-deep snow, thanks to the force of the wind coming at them. They hadn’t far to go. Shuttered lanterns and the light cast from the lighthouse guided the way. Mrs. Calloway arrived first, but she didn’t hand a blanket to anyone. Fiona hastened her step. Moments later, she too reached the small group of men and women. She recognized each one as a citizen of Singapore.
“Where are they? The survivors?”
“Not here yet.” Mrs. Calloway point to the blackness in front of them where the dune dropped off toward the angry lake.
Sawyer had disappeared down that dune. For the last time. Fiona caught herself.