Bartholomew gulped. ‘I… I didn’t notice…’

Samuel’s thin mouth gaped open and his eyes glazed over. He had witnessed Jonathan King’s tall frame being hurled overboard and probably to his death. Had Jonathan’s youngest son gone over too and without anyone noticing? Samuel looked at each taut face in turn with the question etched on his features. In return he received either a shake of the head or a blank stare.

Matthew King grabbed Samuel again and shook him roughly. ‘Where is Josh!’ he screamed in sheer frustration.

‘For goodness sake, Matt!’ Paul shouted fearfully. ‘Leave him be or you’ll have this boat over too!’

Matthew heeded Paul’s plea shamefacedly. He let go of Samuel with a slight push then patted his arm in a gesture that said he was sorry for the outburst.

Bartholomew, who had been on the verge of coming to his father’s aid, spoke up firmly over the roar of the waves. ‘We may yet find the others, Matt. We mustn’t give up hope but we’re not going to hear their cries for help if we panic.’

The fog was gradually lifting, the waves becoming smaller and more manageable. The fishermen silently acknowledged the youth’s words and all turned about to lean over the gunwales to resume the search for signs of life.

Matthew brushed tears from his eyes and muttered prayers through his bristly brown beard. He had no idea where the Young Maid had been tossed to, no familiar clanging of rings could be heard, either from his own or a neighbouring village. Paul stood close beside him, his knuckles white as he gripped the gunwale. Though numb with grief, a small part of his brain marvelled that he was still alive and he found comfort that the sea had spared his amiable giant brother, who, if their grandfather, father and uncle were really lost, was now the head of their family.

Bartholomew nudged Paul’s arm. ‘Some of them may be picked up by the other boats.’

It was a comforting thought. ‘Could be.’ Paul gave the other youth a grateful smile. ‘Never thought of that.’

‘Shush, you two,’ Matthew hissed through the corner of his mouth.

The sky was slowly clearing, soon the coastline would be in sight and the fishermen would be able to ascertain their exact whereabouts. Silence reigned on the Young Maid. Then Samuel Drannock’s voice came in a rasp, ‘Hark, I thought I heard something.’

The fishermen straightened their bodies and became alert, turning their heads this way and that to pick up any human sounds.

‘There it is again,’ said Samuel urgently. ‘Did any other of ’ee hear it?’

‘I b’lieve I heard something,’ Christopher King replied, hoping it would be his father Jonathan or his brother Josh.