Page 3

He wiped the end of his spyglass off with a section of his shirt that seemed the driest, then he peered through the lens once again, shifting slightly to see past the streaks his wet clothing had left behind against the glass.

After a quick search, he spotted the woman in the water again.

“Be she alive?” Gryffyn called out with a grunt as he hauled in the nets.

“I can’t be sure,” Trevik returned. “’Appen she is, she’ll not last much longer down there.”

More of the crew shuffled to his side, and the boat leaned closer to the water.

Trevik didn’t lose his careful watch of the woman. His chest tightened as her limp body drew closer, floating like a ghost in the night, the frontside of her clothing eerily warped by the water.

With how tangled she’d become, the mesh wrapped multiple times around her limbs, he knew the Pilferer had not simply picked her up with her already unconscious. The woman had clearly struggled to break free. She must have been swimming deep to have been caught in the mesh, but then…would this have happened had he not made the poor decision to fish closer to shore?

The weight of culpability pressed against him, and he fought the urge to jump in and rescue her himself. But what good would he be to the woman and his crew if he became entangled in the net, too?

“She be nearly ’ere, boys!” he called out, praying silently for her wellbeing. If she’d been under for much longer than a few moments…

Fish plopped back down into the water from the swiftly moving net, and the waves shifted back and forth, slapping against the boat until finally, the woman’s body was pulled from the sea.

Her foot was twisted around the net multiple times, her arm tangled in the opposite side as her head lolled back, long hair dripping with water.

“She be dead!” Charlie called out as he saw the state of her, and a few men mumbled in agreement.

“Help me haul ’er up!” Trevik cried out, thrusting his spyglass into Charlie’s hands and reaching for the woman so she wouldn’t slam against the bulwark. He would not believe she was already gone. He couldn’t.

Another of his mates reached over to help, and they heaved her over the edge, gripping her arms just beneath her shoulders as the net was brought up with her.

Gingerly, they untangled the shredded netting that wound tightly around her ankle and arm, then laid her across the deck as the net was set aside. Trevik ensured her head rested softly against the wood before assessing the length of her, searching for any apparent injuries. Wet strands of hair striped across her face, and she wore no gown, though her petticoat and undergarments ensured her ample coverage.

Voices whispered from behind as he moved to kneel beside her.

“She ain’t breathin’,” Charlie murmured.

“What she be doin’ in the water?” said another. “Did someone put ’er out ’ere?”

Trevik leaned close to the deck to peer at the woman’s chest from a different angle, brushing aside a flapping pilchard that had managed to escape the nets but not the boat. He held his breath, willing the woman to use hers, but there was not even the faintest movement shifting her sopping petticoat.

“She be a danger to us all, mark me words,” Edern whispered.

“Hush your ’alf-baked notions, Edern,” Gryffyn growled, moving up from the net room to join the other men. He pulled a sail over her head to prevent the rain from falling on her further.

Trevik straightened, ignoring the words of those around him as he hovered over the woman, resting a few fingers against her neck. His crew fell silent again, standing in a half-circle around them as Trevik closed his eyes, focusing intently on the feel of the woman’s cold, grey skin against his fingertips.

Almost indiscernibly, the feeble thump of her heartbeat tapped against him, sending his own pulse racing.

“She be alive!” he called out.

With swift movements driven by hope, Trevik swiped the strands of sopping hair away from her face and mouth, tipping her head back until her blue lips parted. He placed his mouth fully over her own and sent a great puff of air to purge the water from her lungs.

Her eyes shot open in an instant, and Trevik pulled back as her body roiled. She launched to the side, coughing the water out and spitting it across the deck as the men close to her jumped back.

Trevik leaned back on the heels of his boots, resting his hands on his thighs with heavy breaths. “Ye be safe now,” he said, almost for his own sake as much as for hers.

The rush of relief rattled his bones. He hadn’t killed her after all.

She sat forward, rolling to her side and propping herself up on a hand as her whole body convulsed. Her petticoat slipped up in the process, revealing one bare leg up to her knee, but he quickly averted his gaze.

Rain splattered against the deck, the peaceful tapping broken up only by the sound of her coughing as she continued to rid her lungs of sea water.