Sea of Christmas Miracles Read Online Free Page B

The knife handle
was slippery and she dropped it into the ankle-deep water in the
bottom of the boat.
    Plunging her hand into the freezing water she
grabbed the knife and scrambled toward him, knocking her knee
against the side as she did. She flipped off the sodden blanket,
then began sawing at the rope that bound his hands, her movements
jerky. When the hemp snapped he yanked his hands free, flexing his
fingers and reaching for the knife. Their eyes met, holding
momentarily, before she let loose her grip.
    If he planned to have his revenge there was
nothing she could do about it now. Margaret braced herself, but he
ignored her. Quickly he sliced through the ropes around his ankles,
then scrambled past her to the rudder. He slipped it free of its
tether and yanked hard, forcing the small craft toward shore.
    They were perhaps a mile from land. Margaret
caught glimpses of trees through the blinding rain that pelted the
small craft.
    “We’re taking on a lot of water. Bail!”
    Margaret heard him bellow and looked around.
He simply yelled at her again.
    Floating in the ever-rising water that filled
the bottom of the shallop was a tin of peppermints. She’d planned
to drop one of the candies into the toe of each child’s Christmas
stocking. Now she simply dumped the brightly colored mints into the
swirling water and began scooping with the empty tin.
    Seawater was pouring over the sides so
quickly that she couldn’t keep up. Margaret knew it wasn’t her
imagination that the small boat was riding lower in the crashing
waves.
    She glanced toward Thomas. He stood, bent
over the rudder, using all his strength to keep them heading toward
the shoreline.
    “Not much farther,” he yelled, and Margaret
had a moment of hope. Perhaps they would escape a watery grave. She
quickly tossed a tinful of frothy liquid overboard.
    The next moment she looked up to see a wall
of water descending on her. Her scream only forced her to gulp a
mouthful of saltwater. Then she was falling, swirling about in the
churning foam.
    “Margaret!” Thomas leaped to the side of the
boat and stared over the side. He could see nothing but gray, icy
water. “Margaret!” He gave one fleeting glance toward the
shoreline. “Oh, hell,” he yelled as he jumped overboard.
    Thomas thought he was cold before, but now
the chill was numbing. He forced his arms and legs to move. The
saltwater stung his eyes and he tried to keep some orientation as
to which way was up as he searched through the churning water, but
he could see nothing. His lungs burned and felt ready to explode.
Knowing he should try to make it to the surface, Thomas’s mind
rebelled. Just one more second...
    “God’s blood, boy, the wench is there, by
your hand.” As unbelievable as it was Thomas knew he heard a
voice yelling in his ear. His arm jerked out, almost of its own
accord, his fingers tangling with something silky. Maggie’s
hair.
    He pulled, grabbing for more to hold on to.
When his hand found her arm he hung on tight and kicked. Pushing
against the turbulence, he forced them toward the surface.
    His first gulp of air was painfully sweet.
Then he thrust Margaret up above the crashing waves. He didn’t know
if it did any good. She was limp and unconscious. He hoped it was
only that. If she were dead.... Thomas didn’t want to think of
that. He did his best to keep her head above water, a near
impossibility, as he twisted around looking for the boat. It was
nowhere to be found. He couldn’t even tell which way the shore was.
The waves were so high that at first he couldn’t see anything but
water and more water.
    Then a spear of lightning lit the heavens,
illuminating a staggered array of windswept palmettos. The vision
was gone before he could be certain it wasn’t just that—a vision of
his imagination. But Thomas kicked, sending him toward the
spot.
    It seemed as if he’d been in the water
forever. He couldn’t feel his arms and legs and only hoped his
brain was sending