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The major followed her up the staircase and when they arrived they found Mr. Burke before them anxiously watching as the lightning zigzagged from the black clouds as if it would split open the heavens.
“Don’t fret, Lady Randolph, Anthony is a good sailor and they are both sensible enough to head home the moment anything looms in the west,” Mr. Burke told her.
A torrential downpour at the moment prevented them from going out onto the balcony. “I’ve never seen a storm blow up this quickly in years,” Roz exclaimed.
“It’s all that sultry heat that’s been hanging about this week. Unnatural here in England,” Major Blount pointed out.
The lashing rain was swept away to sea in minutes and Roz said, “My God, it’s a gale-force wind. TheSeagullwill be blown to bits.”
Mr. Burke tried to calm Roz even though he was extremely worried himself. “I’d be willing to lay a bet they were safely back in the Medway before it hit.”
They all three went back downstairs to keep vigil, hoping against hope the twins would arrive any moment. The wind had uprooted a flowering quince outside the dining room window. When they looked beyond the garden they saw quite a number of trees in the park had been flattened.
“Haven’t seen a storm come up like that since I was in the Bay of Biscay,” declared the major.
Mr. Burke touched his shoulder to warn him not to alarm Rosalind, but she was a woman who didn’t get the vapors without good cause. Something had already told her she must brace herself for trouble.
Mr. Burke headed for the door. “I’ll go down to the boathouse and see if I can spot them in the Medway.”
“I’m coming too,” decided Roz. “I can’t just sit calmly by and wait.”
There was no sign of theSeagullat the boathouse, so they walked along the bank of the river that opened up into the sea. The afternoon was no longer hot, but the raging wind had blown out to sea and only a brisk breeze remained on shore. The three walked out onto the shingle beach and scanned the watery horizon. All of them were taut with silence, but all they heard were the waves breaking on the shore and the gulls screaming overhead. Look as they might, they saw no sail, no boat, no swimmer, no wreckage.
The major made a quick decision. “I can do no good here, Roz. Now that the storm has passed and the seas are navigable, I’ll take my sloop out. There’s still a couple of hours before dark.”
“Oh, Jeremy, thank you! Don’t venture out alone.”
“My neighbor’s a good sailor, I’ll induce old Kent to search with me. Never fear, if theSeagull’sexperienced trouble we’ll tow her in to safe harbor;”
“Lady Randolph, you have no cloak,” Mr. Burke admonished. “Go back to the house with Major Blount. I’ll walk farther up the beach. The tide is about to change and even if theSeagull’ssails have been blown to shreds, the tide will bring her back.”
Rosalind decided to return for a cloak, but she fully intended to rejoin Mr. Burke as soon as the major departed. Jeremy Blount gave Roz a reassuring hug before he left and bade her not to worry. She was surprised at the virile strength of his arms and realized how pleasant it was to have a man who would risk danger to aid her.
She took a red cloak from her wardrobe, reasoning the bright color might act as a beacon for the young sailors. As she passed a mirror she was shocked at how haggard she looked. She clenched her fists and took a deep, calming breath, realizing her stomach was tied in knots. She sent up a silent prayer to Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes, then told herself sternly that the situation was not hopeless. Without hope there was nothing, just a black, frightening void.
Something, not exactly an inner voice, just a feeling in her bones really, told her that all would be well. She clutched her cloak about her trim figure and stepped outside, ready to face whatever was out there.
When she caught up with Mr. Burke on the shingle beach she realized that most of the light had gone out of the afternoon. The sea was a dark shade of pewter, the sky above it was a bit lighter, but still heavy with gray cloud. She clutched his arm for a few moments, taking some of his calm strength into herself, then she let go of him and said, “I’ll walk a mile up this way and you go back toward the mouth of the Medway. The tide is really starting to come in now. We may spot them any minute.”
They separated and almost an hour later came together again. The light was nearly all gone now and they strained their eyes, still keeping their vigil, still keeping hope alive. Neither of them was willing to give up yet.
“We’ll cover the same distance one last time. I just cannot go back to the Hall yet.” She knew Mr. Burke had been about to order her to the house. Her words forestalled him.
“All right,” he agreed. “Shout if you see anything at all.”
Fifteen minutes later it was Mr. Burke who shouted. One minute the rollers were unbroken until they hit the sand, the next moment he saw something black bobbing about between the swells. Without hesitation he plunged into the surf to grab and hold whatever it was. It was not until he had hold of it that he knew it was a person, and not until his face was less than a foot away did he see the yellow oilskin. “Mother of God, are you dead or alive?” he asked the human piece of flotsam. “Roz! Roz!” he bellowed, filling his lungs with air before he attempted to lift the waterlogged youth.
He heard Roz answer him and even at this distance heard the excitement, joy, and relief mingled in her answering shout. As he groped about in the dark seawater he knew something was preventing him lifting the body. He cursed beneath his breath as his seeking fingers came into contact with the line wrapped about the wooden spar and the boy. His nails could not unfasten the knots and finally in desperation he pulled the tangled line off by working it down the legs and over the bare feet.
He knew the body he held still breathed, even though it was not conscious. Roz came running up the beach, breathless. “Oh, my God—”
“It’s Anthony,” shouted Mr. Burke. “He’s still breathing. Christ, he’s heavy!”
“Dear God, where’s Antonia?” Roz cried.
“No sign of her … no sign of theSeagullAnthony was attached to part of the mast.”
“Antonia! Antonia!” Roz cried her name desperately into the dark sea. The wind snatched the name from her trembling lips.
