Sorcha had seen enough. Despondent and heart-weary, she withdrew and waited. When this… brutality stopped, when this wickedness had run its course, she would go to Janet, no matter what.

One by one, others turned away and joined her. Silent, with tears streaming down their faces, they prayed, shaking their heads in disbelief at the cruelty they were observing. There were friends of Janet’s, a cousin, a nephew, a brother-in-law as well. But there were also those who bore no relation. Sorcha was relieved to see many felt as she did. It was then she caught sight of Beatrix.

‘Dear God, Sorcha, what has happened to us?’ asked Beatrix, her eyes swollen from weeping. ‘When Sergeant Thatcher came to the door, I couldn’t believe what he was telling me.’

Sorcha wasn’t sure how to reply until, as she gazed at those beside her, she saw past them to a familiar form standing alone at the end of the harbour wall. Reverend Cowper. His eyes were fixed on what was happening aboard the Sophia. A scene he’d orchestrated as if he’d cast the actors and given them their lines.

Do whatever you please with her. I care not.

‘Him, that’s what happened,’ whispered Sorcha, but Beatrix didn’t hear.

A short time later, Nettie appeared.

‘What did the bailies say?’ asked Sorcha.

Nettie pressed her lips together. ‘I don’t know. Angus and Gerard convinced me they’d speak to them; that it was better I wasn’t seen.’

Casting a wary glance at the Sophia, Sorcha knew the lads were right.

‘They promised they’d make sure the bailies acted. I want to believe them; they were as shocked by the crowd’s reaction as we were. But then, they didn’t see this.’ Nettie’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

Together, Sorcha and Nettie stood and beheld Janet’s torment, unable to speak, just holding hands.

For two hours, Janet endured. Sorcha didn’t move. Nettie, Beatrix, Therese Larnarch, Jean Durkie and Nicolas, who’d eventually found them, kept a silent vigil to their friend’s suffering. When it was evident the men were in no hurry to stop, Nicolas eased herself into a position beside Sorcha and whispered in her ear. Sorcha started then gave a nod of understanding. Leaning over, she shared what Nicolas had told her with Nettie, her eyes never once leaving the scene upon the water.

When the men finally tired, they heaved Janet out of the dark seas one last time and, while she was still attached to the mast by the rope, flung her onto the sands. She was barely conscious. That didn’t stop those lingering on the shoreline attacking her with sticks and more rocks.