CHAPTER 1

Cornwall, England

Autumn 1778

Sarah Carr would never look at the sea the same way again,or listen to the waves sweep across the shore while in theembrace of her first love. Drawing in the briny air, feeling thewind rush through her unbound hair, now spoke of danger andloss. Basking in blue moonlight under the stars and havingJamie point out the constellations was now a thing of the pastthat could never, in her mind, be repeated.

Tonight a hunter's moon stood behind bands of dark purpleclouds as if it were the milky eye of evil. Along the bronzesand, deep green seaweed entwined with rotted gray driftwood.The scent of salt blew heavy in the air, deepening thesting of tears in her eyes, and tasting bitter on her tongue.

She had pleaded with Jamie not to go down to the shorewith the others when they beat on the door and called outthat a ship had wrecked in the harbor. But an empty pocketand a growling stomach influenced him to go. For over anhour, she waited for him to return and then she could bear theanxiety no longer. Sarah slipped on her worn leather bootsand hurried down to the beach, working her way through thetangle of frenzied scavengers in hopes of finding him.

People rushed about her, some with torches, others carryingglowing tin lanterns. There were calls and shouts over thehowl of the wind and the noise of the sea. They carried sacks,barrels, and crates, which had been tossed in the surf andwashed ashore; others were taken perilously from the sinkingvessel. The groan of its timbers caused Sarah to shiver, as shethought of the poor souls trapped aboard. She could make outits black hulk in the moonlight, its main mast shooting upthrough the boil of waves like a spear.

"Have mercy on those left behind, O Lord." She shovedback her tangle of hair and watched the hapless ship go downinto the dark depths of an angry sea.

A bonfire threw sparks over the sand. The foamy edge ofthe surf seemed a ribbon of gold near her feet. The few sailorswho had survived looked on wide-eyed and drenched to thebone. They shivered in the cold, with no weapons to fend offthe looting.

A firm hand moved Sarah back and she gasped. "Comeon, girl. This is no place for ye to be." She turned to a man inuntidy clothes. His wet hair corkscrewed around his ears andhung over his forehead. He had turned up his collar againstthe drizzle and wind. She recognized him as one of the villagers,a fisherman by trade, but did not know his name.

"You must leave this place before it gets too rough, Sarah.We'll take Jamie to the chapel with the others. Come withme."

She shook her head at his meaning. "Jamie? Where is he?"she shouted over the blast of wind as she glanced at the chaosaround her. "Why must we go to the chapel?"

The man did not answer. Instead he shifted on his feet,frowned, and glanced away. Then, still silent, he took her bythe arm again and led her across the sand. Her hair, the colorof burnt umber, floated about her eyes, where the mist blurredher vision.

"Are we gathering there to pray?" she asked. "We need topray for those poor souls caught in the sea." She lifted herskirts and stepped unsteadily. Her limp made it difficult tonavigate the beach.

"Ah, let me help you." The man threw his arm across herback. "Over this way. Watch your step. Steady now."

He took her to a place where the rocks made a barrierbetween the village and the sea. In the orange firelight, Sarahsaw bodies stretched out on the sand in a row, their clothessoaked and splattered with sand. Faces were ashen in thetorchlight. Their arms were crossed over their chests. Theworst of her fears exploded into reality. She trembled and felther knees weaken.

Upon a blanket lay her husband, Jamie, his youthful facewhiter than the wet shirt that clung to his lifeless body. Hiseyes were closed. His dark hair, soaked, clung to his throat.Sarah gasped. "Jamie!"

She shivered from the cold wind that shoved against her,that pounded the waves upon the beach, from the grief thatstruck a merciless fist against a breast once content with love,thinking it would last forever.

"No!" She fell beside him and threw her arms across hischest, wherein lay a silent heart. "Lord God, do not take himfrom me. Bring him back!" She shook with weeping, andsomeone pulled her away.

Four men wrapped her lad in the blanket and lifted him.She followed. Her skirts twisted around her limbs as the windgusts grew stronger. A storm had battered the Cornish coast,and another whisked across sea and land behind it. Withinmoments, clouds smothered the moon and stars—the bonfireand a few lanterns the only lights to guide their steps up to thecenturies-old stone church.

To rally her strength, she took in a deep lungful of air.Instead of relieving her, its mix of smoke from the bonfireand the brackish wind choked her. Behind her, she heard thewaves break over the rocks, rush over the sand and pebbles,and suck at the shipwreck. A few lights in the cottages afar offglimmered in the darkness. She stumbled, regained her footing,and brushed away the tears that stung her eyes.

* * *

Fifteen sailors from the shipwreck and five villagers werelaid to rest in the parish churchyard the next morning. Foursomber widows walked away in silence with their fatherlesschildren, made poorer by their loss.

Sarah drew her shoulders back, determined to rise aboveher grief and face what life had just thrown at her. But herheart ached, and she knew no amount of fortitude could stopit. She tipped the rim of her hat downward to hide her tears.

"What is done cannot be undone," she said to the womanwho walked beside her. "God asks of me to go on. And I shallfor my child's sake."

Her neighbor, Mercy Banks, placed her hand over Sarah'sshoulder. She was as tall as Sarah, and lean, with a pleasantcountenance and large brown eyes. Known for her kindness tothose in need, Mercy's touch comforted Sarah.

"You must come home with me, Sarah. The least we can dois give you a warm meal and a bed for the night. It would betoo lonely in your little cottage without Jamie."

Sarah glanced down at the three children as they walkedalongside their mother. Their heads were as blond as sand,their eyes like Mercy's. Two clung to Mercy's skirts. The oldestboy walked ahead and swung a stick at the geese in the road.

"Thank you, Mercy. But I am leaving Bassets Cove." Shecould not impose on her neighbors who had young mouths tofeed. "My landlord is not a rich man. I can expect sympathy,but not charity. He and his wife need a paying tenant. So Ihave told them I am leaving."

Mercy's face crinkled with worry. "You are leaving thisminute? Let me speak to my husband."

"Do not worry. I will be fine."

"But where will you go, Sarah? You have no family, noparents, brothers or sisters. Have you a distant relative whowould take you in all of a sudden?"

"I am going to Jamie's sister, Mary, and her husband.November is around the corner and the cold weather will behere. I must go while I have the chance."

Mercy pressed her lips together then let out a long breath."To the Lockes? It is said Lem Locke is a smuggler, that hewill stop anyone by any means if they get in his way. It isn'tas if he is helping any of the poor in Cornwall, for it is alsosaid he hoards his goods in the caves along the coast, andsells rum and brandy at a high price to the gentry. You...