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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

When she finally reached the harbour wall, the crowd lined its edges, facing the beach and pier. Men leapt onto the dusky sands, charging towards a large group closer to the sea. Somewhere, in the midst of all those people, was Janet. Sorcha could see shadows between the bursts of light from torches as others dared to run along the ruined pier, eager to witness what was unfolding. Men jumped onto the wreck of the Sophia and rushed to the prow of the ship to shout encouragement to those dragging Janet forward, beckoning them closer.

Didn’t they know how dangerous it was up there? The wood was rotting, the deck slick with barnacles and seaweed. Walking upon it was to invite doom. As Sorcha watched in disbelief, three men clambered up the tallest mast, one of them carrying a coil of rope over his shoulder. It was then, with a sinking heart, she understood they knew damn well what they were risking and why.

The storm that had threatened to break all afternoon passed. The cloud filled with lightning, God’s blazing swords, had moved inland, leaving the scene drenched in silver moonlight. The tide was almost full, waves breaking against the creaking hull of the Sophia, showering everyone with spray. An irradiated pathway crossed the Forth, shimmering and inviting.

Unable to get onto the pier as the way was blocked, Sorcha joined those along the harbour wall and stared helplessly as Janet was pulled closer and closer to the water’s edge. Her hair was matted with a dark, wet substance. The shawl she’d fetched from her house had disappeared and her shirt and skirt had ridden up to expose torn and bloody arms and legs.

As Sorcha looked around in despair, she caught sight of Peter Morton. He stood back, away from others, observing the scene, a frown of disbelief on his features. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes as well. Blood spattered one cheek. Was it his? Or Janet’s? Did he understand he was responsible for this? He and the reverend. Unable to look at him any longer lest the anger roiling inside her burst forth, Sorcha turned away.

She shut herself off to the noise around her, the excited cries and shouts of encouragement, and watched.

One end of a rope was affixed to the top of the Sophia’s mast, the other was flung over the derelict rails, towards the shoreline. The men standing over Janet caught hold of it. Uncaring that she barely moved, they tied it around her waist. Sorcha could see she was clearly dazed, but still alive. Picking Janet up as if she were a sack of grain, the men signalled to those on board, who began to heave on the rope. Sea-spray rained upon them as they stood knee-deep in the shallows, waiting for the rope to grow taut. One of the men slipped, almost dropping her.