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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

Matthew arrived at the wooden jetty and reached out to grasp the rope.

‘Matthew! No!’ Esther shrieked, but the sound was snatched and tossed away by the gale. She could not even hear her own voice let alone be heard by Matthew.

He was pulling himself up the gangway as she reached the water. Lifting her skirts, she waded through it to reach him. She must stop him. This was sheer madness.

She had reached the bottom of the gangway and had even put her hand on the rope. Looking upwards, she saw him jump from the end of the gangway on to the boat, saw him stagger for a moment and then right himself, though the boat rocked beneath his feet.

Then he disappeared from her view.

As she tightened her grip on the rope and steadied herself to step on to the swaying planking, she felt herself pushed to one side. Above the roaring wind she had heard no one behind her and so the push, catching her off guard, sent her sprawling into the shallow flood-water on the bank. Gasping and gulping she staggered up again, thinking, irrationally at such a moment, that she seemed to be spending more time on all fours than on her feet this night.

When she looked around it was to see that Beth had taken her place. Now it was Beth’s fingers which grasped the rope, Beth’s face which was upturned to the boat, her eyes wide with anguish and terror. Her mouth was moving and although Esther could hear no sound above the noise of the storm, even this close, she could see that it was his name Beth was shouting.

‘Matthew! MATTHEW!’

Esther too glanced up again, but he had vanished, gone below in search of his other family.

Beth made to heave herself up the gangway, and Esther, too, grasped the rope and made to follow her.

Strong arms seized them, pulling them backwards. Robert Eland’s arms were around Beth’s waist, but still she clung tenaciously to the rope. Esther felt herself held by Mr Harris.

Close against her ear he shouted, ‘Nay, lass, ya’ll all be killed. Have some sense, Esther.’ Suddenly the fight went out of her and she leant against the huge comforting bulk of Ben Harris. She closed her eyes and dropped her head momentarily against his shoulder as a shudder convulsed her whole body. The man must have felt her fear, for his arms tightened about her. Esther took a deep breath, raised her head and opened her eyes again to see Robert Eland trying to drag Beth off the landing stage. Her hands gripping the rope were grazed and bleeding, but still she clung on, her mouth wide open, her eyes frantic, her face the colour of death itself.