Beyond the Storm by E.V. Thompson

hands and Macleish’s voice demanded, ‘Where’s Agnes … Mrs Leyland?’
    ‘She’s here …’ Agnes had fallen to the deck but Eliza could feel her gripping the hem of her skirt as the captain’s wife struggled to regain her footing on the wet deck.
    ‘Hold on to her. Don’t lose her – and don’t lose me . We’re going to the boat.’
    Eliza had noticed two boats on the deck at Cormorant’s stern, one on either side and she asked, ‘Which one?’
    ‘There’s only one … the other was washed overboard.’
    Remembering the size of the boat compared with the giant waves battering Cormorant and the nearby cliffs, Eliza said fearfully , ‘We can’t trust our lives to a small boat like that in this sea!’
    ‘It’s our only chance, the ship is breaking up on the rocks and nothing can save it now … Hurry!’
    As Eliza pulled Agnes to her feet, the captain’s wife, half- hysterical with fear, cried, ‘Where’s my husband? Where’s Arnold?’
    Without slowing in his efforts to drag the two women along the wildly bucking deck towards the ship’s stern, Macleish, head down against the wind and blinding rain shouted, ‘He’s ordered me to get you into the boat and pull away from the ship. He’ll try to escape with the crew over the rocks to the shore. You couldn’t make it that way.’
    ‘I’m not going! I want to stay with Arnold….’
    ‘He’s busy trying to save his crew. Here we are – but be careful, the boat’s swinging about like a mad thing.’
    Macleish was fully aware that neither the captain nor any of the crew remaining on board stood any chance of survival. Agnes knew it too but before she could protest any further, the mate bundled her and Eliza into the wildly swinging boat and scrambled in after them.
    There was a sudden, stomach-churning drop as the seamen holding the ropes attached to the davits released their grip, sending the boat crashing into the sea. It immediately began bouncing around in an alarming manner, at the mercy of the waves.
    ‘Push away from the ship’s side!’
    Macleish bellowed the order to the eight or nine seamen who were in the boat, his voice only just discernible above the dinabout them. Using oars, the sailors levered the boat clear of the stricken Cormorant , snapping two oars in the process.
    Eventually, to the relief – and disbelief – of everyone on board the small craft they cleared the ship’s stern and suddenly the boat was in open water at the mercy of the sea and still far from safety.
    ‘Get the oars in the rowlocks and pull together. We have to get clear of Cormorant – and the rocks. Pull as you never have before … your lives depend on it ! Come on … put your backs into it. In … out … in … out…!’
    The mate of the stricken Cormorant shouted the time for the oarsmen in a desperate effort to make them pull on the oars together and power the small boat clear of the mother ship.
    It was not easy. The boat was rising and falling with the mountainous waves, the blades of the oars digging into water at one moment, flailing the air uselessly in the next – and not all the water stayed outside the boat. Eliza had been aware of water soaking her feet when she climbed inside and now she felt it swilling about her ankles.
    Macleish was aware of it too. Struggling to hold the tiller with one hand, he felt beneath his seat in the stern of the boat and from a small locker pulled out two dish-shaped objects. Kicking them towards Eliza, he said, ‘You and Agnes use these. Try to get rid of some of the water; we can’t afford to ride any lower than we are now.’
    Eliza handed one of the dishes to Agnes who, ill and terrified of all that was happening about her, only feebly followed the example of Eliza who began baling out water as fast as she could.
    The task was not easy. The boat was pitching and rolling wildly and, despite all her efforts, Eliza felt that only half the water she was bailing out reached the side before spilling back