August Gale by Barbara Walsh Read Free Book Online Page A

a journey to Naples to sell a cargo of salted cod. They had left in the middle of September on The Ria , promising they’d be home in plenty of time for Christmas. With no word from the schooner, Christmas came and went. Lillian remembered how her younger sister Catherine, Leo’s wife, was certain the vessel was lost with all hands. Six months and twenty days passed as the three-masted schooner fought its way through gales and pack ice before returning to Marystown.
    Catherine nearly fainted at the sight of Leo. She had already begun mourning his death. When her senses returned, she had words for her husband, “Please God, I can do this no more.”
    Leo, his face still gaunt and strained from the journey, nodded.
    Lillian had hoped the haunted look in his brother’s eyes would make some sort of impression on Paddy. But it did nothing of the kind. Paddy had been sailing straight through since Leo’s desperate trip thirteen years ago. Stubborn old man , Lillian muttered. A whistling teakettle roused her from her thoughts. From the kitchen, the maid’s voice inquired, “Would ye be wanting a cup of tea now, Miss Lil?” Hearing no response, Alice Brinton made her way to the parlor where she found Lillian sitting by the window. The maid took in Lillian’s pale fingers, delicate and thin, wrapped around the arm of her chair, gripped as if she were holding on for dear life. Such a small slip of a woman, Alice thought, but she knew Lillian was as strong as the iron anchors that moored the boats in the bay below. No, she never cried or carried on inside or out of her home; she kept her feelings hidden deep beneath her dark eyes. Never did she raise her voice or utter a bad word. Proper as royalty she was. But she would have to be strong and proper now would she not? Being married to Paddy and all. One of them had to present some manners and civility to the children. Still, aside from Paddy’s bluster and fondness for the drink, Alice knew Miss Lillian loved the captain like the day was long. Always wanting to be by his side, she was.
    The young maid eyed the clock on the mantlel. Nearly an hour had passed while Miss Lil had been gazing out the window. Lost already she is. A bit early to start fretting over this journey , Alice thought. But can’t say that I blame the woman. ’Tis nothing for a fisherman’s wife but worry and waiting. Sure, the men were gone away more than they were home . Alice understood Lillian’s concern. Her own husband, John, would soon be gone, too. He often crewed for Paddy, his mother’s half brother. Alice’s husband considered himself fortunate to work for his Uncle Paddy, a skipper who knew the fishing grounds as well as the meadow behind his home. But despite Paddy’s keen skills, Alice would fret herself, a mother with three children of her own, and a new baby born last month. Not long after her husband John hugged her good-bye, her own dreams would soon begin, dreams of dark clouds and upturned dories.

CHAPTER 6
VICTORY SHIPS AND A SAN FRANCISCO TEMPEST—MY PARENTS’ KITCHEN, APRIL 2003
    T he refrigerator hums, and the burst of electrical juice is jarring in the still and quiet kitchen. It is nearly one in the morning as my father and I sit alone at the table. I do not remember how or why the conversation began, but for the past three hours, my father has talked about his childhood and his feelings about Ambrose.
    Over the past few months, he and his half sisters have been e-mailing back and forth, sharing information about themselves and their lives. Whether it is our research into the August Gale or the messages he writes to Ambrose’s daughters, my father’s past seems more present now. On this Easter weekend, I listen to his words closely, knowing that he has not shared these emotions since he was a young boy. When he talks, his brown eyes are focused on something I cannot see. He speaks in a fluid stream of