I heard the ship’s distress call above the shriek of the gale. It was the worst storm of the season, perhaps the worst I had ever seen. It was impossible to sleep, so I got up, put the kettle on and spent the night huddled before my flickering fire, thinking of the souls of the dead.
I woke beside gray ashes, and was momentarily dazzled by the bright sunlight streaming through the window of my cottage. After swigging my now cold tea, I stumbled down to the rocky shore to see if there were any goods, or men to be salvaged. As I crested the hill, the scene before me dropped me to my knees. The entire beach was littered with wood, metal, rope. I picked through the debris, surprised to find no bodies, living or dead. There was nothing but me and the gulls and the broken ship. I sat and thought of my own Johnny, gone so long ago, and I wept.
When my tears were spent, I became aware of a low moan, barely a whisper of sound, behind me. Wrapped in a bit of sail I found a young man, barely 15, and barely alive. He clutched a medallion in his thin fingers, and his sightless eyes stared past me as he mumbled and groaned. I tried to pour some water past his cracked lips, and he became somewhat aware of me. He thrust the medallion at me and spoke words I couldn’t understand. He seemed to be begging or apologizing, all the while waving his necklace. In an effort to calm him, I took it from his fingers. A beautiful smile came over his face, and he relaxed in my arms. For a moment, then, I think he saw my face. His blue eyes looked into my own, he took a deep breath, let it out, and he died.
naughteegirl 