“Amen,” Ann whispered and immediately she thought of Will.
Where was he and how did he fare?
Will lay curled on the side of the deck, caught in between an overturned barrel and part of the rigging. He needed a sturdier hold if he was not going to be thrown from this ship. With his good arm aching and bad arm throbbing, he tried to pull himself back to the ship’s wheel.
He’d decided one thing for certain.
There was a reason all of this happened to him and no one else. He’d never really believed in such a being as God, but now it felt like he was being punished. If not by God, then by whom?
Now he knew God was real and that God hated him. No one else could have such force.
Willwasthe Jonah. With every compounding wave, he realized surviving here was inconceivable without help. There were men at the front of the boat, but they’d been given instructions not to leave their post unless he was thrown overboard, and they were tied to their posts. Untying right now and coming to Will’s aid would prove fatal.
It was clear Will couldn’t best this storm alone—and he needed help from someone far greater than a mortal. He was beyond desperate. If he could at least stay alive, he promised himself, he’d repent for not thinking God was real, and he’d come to know Him.
The ship rocked back once more, another wave crashing over the entire deck from behind. The water easily dislodged him, sucking him back with the retreat of the greedy swell. Will slid again, and he felt his leg catch on something.
It was the post that connected the wheel to the ship.
Instantly he wrapped his other leg around it and reached up with his good arm using all the energy he had left. His hand grasped a rung of the wheel, and Will wove his other arm around it, entangling himself as much as possible so he wouldn’t lose hold.
He felt like an octopus engulfing its prey, unwilling to move a tentacle. More waves pelted the deck, but he held on through them all, sucking in a large breath right before each wave crashed over him. Through the sheets of water, he thought he saw clouds rolling toward the boat, glowing in the moonlight. It was nearly the exact circumstances as that night long ago with his father. He thought he’d put that experience behind him. But not now, not here. Memories clawed at him like sea ghosts threatening to send him to the depths below.
He had to stand up. He couldn’t stay here like a scared kitten and let the sea get the best of him.
For one moment there appeared to be a slight lull in the waves. Their force still rocked the boat from side to side, but with less intensity. Will finally untangled his legs and took his position again at the wheel. As he scanned the horizon for more waves and darker clouds, his mind reeled.
He should have been swept off the deck entirely.
Had God known what went on in his head and helped him catch himself against the wheel?
Had the passengers below started praying like Garn had said they would—and more importantly, had their prayers worked?
The wind howled, but less than it had before. The waves still rolled, but they no longer reached out and crashed upon him, threatening to take his life. If this really was the storm easing up, it was a godsend.
“It’s my turn,” came a familiar voice. Jack Flynn came up from the nearest hatch, and started tying a thick rope around his middle, his eyes bright despite the storm.
“That’s smart,” said Will, gesturing to his friend’s torso, deciding that no matter what happened with his father those years ago, he’d never again take watch in a storm without a rope. “I was nearly swept overboard.”
“And what on earth are you doing here, Will?”
“Crenshaw was injured.”
“But your arm—”
Will glanced down at the bandages, frayed edges unraveling. “I’m sure this isn’t your first watch in this storm?”
Jack shook his head and wiped sea spray out of his eyes and tied his rope to the wheel. “But I am holding up great, and ye look like the ruddy sea floor itself.”
“I feel like I’ve been to the bottom of it and back,” said Will, trying for a smile.
Jack looked around. “I think the worst of it is past us. It’s not as bad as it was even thirty minutes ago.”
Will nodded. If only Jack understood how sudden the change had been and how it had come to be and why. Will wishedheknew for certain that God had spared him. It didn’t make sense, but the timing was too drastic to ignore the hand of such a being.
When Jack was secure at his post, Will clapped him on the shoulder, wished him good luck, and stumbled down from the helm. That watch had been the longest thirty minutes of his life.
Feeling suddenly weak, he dropped down behind a barrel to catch his breath. With his good hand, he loosened the bandage over his burn. His skin there felt funny—a mixture of pain and numbness. But considering the beating he’d just endured, the wound didn’t seem much worse. If anything, he knew that salt water often healed cuts despite the sting it brought.
