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Back Plough the Furrow Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. Thirty-four
  38. Thirty-five
  39. Thirty-six
  40. Thirty-seven
  41. Thirty-eight
  42. Thirty-nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-one
  45. Forty-two
  46. Forty-three
  47. Forty-four
  48. Sow the Seed
  49. Reap the Harvest
  50. About the Author
  51. ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Copyright page

The waters closed over her face and there was a gurgling in her ears. She struggled, thrashing with her arms, trying to find the bottom with her feet, striving to bring her head above the water. She broke the surface and drew great gasps of air into her bursting lungs. She could not open her eyes for the stinging salt water. A wave hit her in the back and sent her tippling forward again, face down in the water. She lost her footing and now she could not feel the bottom, could not feel firm earth beneath her feet. She twisted and writhed and tried to push herself upwards. Her sodden clothes were now dragging her down and she felt as if her lungs would rupture. She tried to open her eyes but all she could see was murky, swirling sand. There was a glimmer of light above, but so far away, too far away . . . Water filled her nose and mouth. Her heart was pounding, there was a drumming in her ears. She had never felt so frightened in her life. She knew herself to be drowning and she so desperately wanted to live. She must live – for Kate – for Jonathan. In that moment she saw his beloved face in her mind – the smile crinkling his eyes, the flop of fair hair falling across his forehead – and then there was darkness . . .

Suddenly strong arms were lifting her and she was hauled upwards until her head was above water. She was being shaken and her face was being slapped and suddenly she was coughing and spluttering and clinging on to someone. She coughed and dragged in gulps of air and coughed again until she was sick. Hanging over her rescuer’s strong arm, she retched until she had brought up all the sea water that had entered her lungs. Esther was clinging to a man’s arm and being pulled along. She felt herself bump the side of a boat.

‘Come on, Esther,’ said the man’s voice. ‘I can’t lift you in, you’ll have to help me.’ She brushed her hand across her face and blinked. Her eyes were sore and swollen so that she could scarcely open them. But she knew his voice. Her rescuer was Robert Eland.

She tried to speak but could make no sound. Her breathing was still painful and there was a dreadful ache in her chest.

‘Come on,’ he was urging her again. ‘Put your arms over the side of the boat. Try and grasp hold and I’ll heave you in.’