“An old nun, Sister Agnes from St. Matthew’s, befriended Patience when she was just a wee girl. I don’t remember much about the nun save that she’d come visiting now and then, bringing bread or apples and teaching Patience stories from the Bible.”

“Then this nun is the one we should thank.”

“Aye,” Mercy said quietly, her thoughts traveling back to those many visits from the nun. In some ways, Sister Agnes had been like a grandmother to Patience, offering guidance and wisdom and love, which Patience had in turn given to Mercy.

Patience had always believed God never let their troubles go to waste, that He was always using them to bring about good, often in ways they couldn’t see. Mercy had tried to be like her sister, to have the same strong faith, to believe that God was with them in their afflictions. But she’d never been quite as strong as Patience.

Even so, she’d learned a great deal from both Sister Agnes and Patience about giving away love to others. “When we show kindness to someone, we never can know exactly how many lives that kindness may affect. And Lord knows how much kindness is needed where I come from.”

Dr. Colville shifted his attention to the ocean, his brow furrowing. The breeze from the moving ship lifted a stray lock of his hair.

Dashing. That was the word she’d overheard some of the fancy ladies use to describe the doctor. He was indeed dashing, but more than that, Mercy admired his strength of character. In the face of her accusation, he’d handled himself with grace and dignity, as kind to her as always.

Her cheeks warmed just thinking about the brazenness of her words. She shouldn’t have brought up the matter, should have realized Dr. Colville would never consider having a mistress. While she hadn’t known him long, he’d never given her cause to believe he was anything but genuine and honorable.

“Do you hear that?” Dr. Colville straightened and looked toward the foredeck, his body stiff and unmoving.

Mercy tried to listen above the splash of the waves. “I don’t hear anything, sir.”

“Exactly.” He moved to the middle of the deck. “The ship’s engines are no longer running.”

Mercy nodded. She too sensed a quietness to the ship that hadn’t been there previously.

Dr. Colville glanced to the sea. “And we’ve stopped moving.”

Mercy followed his line of vision, noting that the ship was no longer breaking through the water. The waves bumping against the hull were small, rocking the ship like a mother her babe.

The sailors at the bow were calling to one another, and Gully thundered down the deck in a hurry.

“Can you tell me what has happened?” Dr. Colville called.

“’T’aint good, my lord,” the old sailor replied gruffly. “The coal haulers and stokers be mutinying.”