Chapter One
Eagle Harbor, Michigan; November 1883
“Look out!” Thomas Dowrick’s shout echoed over the angry noise of the waves. He bent his head against the wind and staggered toward the gunwale, moving as quickly as he could over the water-slickened deck toward the young sailor caught against the railing.
“Help!” Young Ronnie clutched the railing half a ship length ahead.
Snow drove down from the heavens with the force of buckshot, stinging Thomas’s face if he dared look up at the sky. And the frigid waters of Lake Superior sloshed across the deck, freezing the bottom of his trousers. He hurried past where the captain and sailors huddled by the gunwale, and toward the boy needing help.
One of the sailors looked up from securing a rope to the dinghy. “Do you need me to get Ronnie?”
“I can manage.” Never mind that he was a miner by trade, not a sailor, and that it had been five years since he’d last been on a ship. The captain needed every spare hand to prepare the dinghythat would carry them away from the rocks that had wrecked their ketch.
The snow nearly blinded him as he approached the bow of the ship and Ronnie. “What’s wrong?”
The brown-headed boy seemed far too young to have a job at all, let alone be a sailor. “I’m caught.”
Indeed he was. The cabin boy was wedged between the gunwale and a crate that had broken lose from its chains when the ship hit the rocks.
“Let’s see if we can move this.” Thomas pulled at the wooden box trapping the boy, but pain ricocheted up his weak shoulder. The crate wasn’t overly big, but whatever it held weighed a great deal.
“Watch out,” Ronnie shouted. “There’s another wave.”
The warning came an instant too late. A vicious wave doused him from behind, splattering its icy spray against his back and causing the ship to sway. His foot slid out from beneath him, and the deck sloped so steeply he careened into the gunwale.
“Don’t go overboard.” Panic laced Ronnie’s voice.
“Don’t plan on it.” Thomas clung to the top of the railing with both arms, his feet fighting for purchase against the slippery, slanting deck. Then he glanced down into the water below.
Mistake. Craggy gray rocks and white churning waves confronted him. He clung tighter to the railing, but the narrow strip of wood suddenly seemed too flimsy to hold a man his size.
Why hadn’t he taken the train and rented a horse rather than boarding the mail ship this morning in Houghton? It might have meant an extra three days of traveling, but he would have at least been alive—even if his wife and daughters were still missing.
You can’t let me die, God, not here, not now. I need to find them first, need to know they’ll be safe without me.
“Can someone else help us?” Ronnie called to the sailors handling the dinghy.
“I’m all right. I just need to…” Thomas inched his foot all the way against the gunwale and put a bit of weight on it. Then he did the same with his second foot before standing and releasing the railing, never mind how he couldn’t stop his jaw from chattering against the cold. “There. Now let’s move this crate again. As soon as the weight shifts, you slide out from it, understand?”
The boy nodded, his face white.
“One, two, three.” Thomas braced his feet against the gunwale and shoved. Pain shot up his arm like lightning. He gritted his teeth and put the full weight of his body into the crate. It moved about a half foot, just enough for Ronnie to scoot out from beneath the box.
A loud crack sounded above the roar of the storm—the unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Thomas clutched the railing and looked up. Were the waves breaking the ship apart already?
Shouts and curses from the group of sailors rang over the howling wind, then one of the sailors hastened toward them.
“The waves dashed the dinghy into the rocks.” The sailor pointed to the frothing waves below. Sure enough, the bow of the little boat jutted up from a craggy rock, while splintered wood churned in the wild waves. “There’s a life-saving team at this port though. We’ll just have to jump rather than take the dinghy to meet them.”
A life-saving team? Thomas shivered against the cold wind quickly turning his damp clothes stiff with ice. “What in tarnation is that?”
“They’ve got a bigger boat, and they’re coming to rescue us. See?” The sailor pointed toward the harbor.
Thomas blinked away a fleck of snow clinging to his lashes and turned to face the gray waves that were somewhat calmer inside the wide, shallow bay. Indeed, a boat headed in a straightline toward the ship, undeterred by the angry water that would keep any other boat off course.
“Let’s go.” The sailor motioned toward the opposite side of the deck. “They’ll approach from the open lake.”
“Can you walk?” Thomas clamped his hand on Ronnie’s shoulder, half to get the boy’s attention, and half to steady himself against the rocking ketch.
