“It’s wreckage,” Mercy said. “Don’t stop, Frannie.”

We stumbled up the beach, clearing the reach of the waves. “In heaven’s name, what happened?” She took me by the shoulders, the fear plain in her bright eyes.

I opened my mouth to tell her. A sob left me instead.

“Hush now.” She drew me down. “Here, sit. Breathe a minute and calm down. Lord, you’re cold.” She scooted beside me, wrapping an arm over my shoulders.

I breathed and breathed, till I’d shored myself up. Then I told her that Sewel had struck me, and that I’d knocked him overboard. It seemed unreal as I said it, like something I’d imagined.

“About time,” Mercy said. “But you ought to have finished him. He’s at your house and he’s in a fury, Fran. A murderous fury.”

“I can’t go home,” I said numbly. The sand was falling away from beneath me. The whole word, sinking.

“Never again, Frannie. If he catches you, he’ll kill you.”

“Where am I to go?” Everyone I knew lived on this island. I looked at the wherry, so battered after such a rough night. “Even if I had anyplace else, how am I supposed to get there?”

My eyes pulled to a splash of red floating beside it, the color bright even in the darkness. As a wave swept past, I saw a slender arm. The pale curve of a shoulder.

A body.

“Mercy, do you see that?”

“Hush.” She tensed beside me. “I hear something.”

More than anything, Mercy feared the runaway catchers that came to the island from time to time, but all I heard were the waves throwing themselves against the beach and the wind shaking the palmetto leaves. Finally, I heard someone calling in the distance.

“Hallo, there!”

“Is anybody out there?” called another voice.

They were around the bend, the sky around the point brighter with the glow of torches, but their voices carried clear to us on the wind.

“It’s only a search party,” I said. “Looking for survivors from the wreck.” And they wouldn’t find any. I looked toward the body floating in the shallows. A warm wave of hope swept over me. Suddenly I found myself walking over to it.

The woman looked younger than I expected. Much younger. Near in age to me. She swayed with the waves, her dark hair waving like a flag about her head. Her eyes were half-closed and her mouth was slightly open, giving her dreamy look. A look like she’d just blown out a candle.

I turned to Mercy, who’d followed me. “Mercy, do you think she looks…”

“Yes. Close enough.”

“Quick, then. Help me with her gown.”

“Thank the good Lord,” said the big man with the shining buttons as he shook his head in amazement. “Miss Emmeline—you’re alive!”

Miss Emmeline—that was the dead girl’s name. The name of the girl I’d just become.

He handed his torch to one of the men behind him and took a careful step toward me, opening his hands in the air. “Please…have no fear. My name is Ruben Jansen. I captain the Ambrosia for your father. Your humble servant, madam.”