The Lost Years by E.V. Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

board?’
    Those about them seemed as mystified as Arabella, but her questions were answered in an horrific manner only minutes later.
    A loud explosion rent the air, the sound- bouncing back from the cliffs around the small fishing village. At the same time, timbers from the barque were flung high into the air, pursued by hungry flames. As debris rained down it was apparent the ship’s boats had not succeeded in putting sufficient distance between themselves and the ship.
    They disappeared inside a swirling cloud of smoke, and some of the Mevagissey women and children screamed.
    In a distressed voice, Arabella cried, ‘What’s happened? Why did it explode like that?’
    ‘The ship was obviously carrying explosives,’ Perys replied grimly. ‘The crew must have known. That’s why they were trying so desperately to get away.’
    The water around the explosion had settled now and the smoke was drifting away, borne out into the bay by the wind. Those onshore caught only a fleeting glimpse of the fore section of the ship as it slid beneath the surface of the water. All that remained was a vast area covered with debris.
    Yet, by some quirk of fate, one of the ship’s boats was still afloat.
    Men who had been watching from the shore now ran to the harbour, hauling on ropes to bring moored vessels of varying sizes to the quayside. At the same time a cry went up for any man who could handle an oar to man the boats.
    ‘Morwenna . . . you and Arabella stay right here. I’m going to help.’
    Without waiting for a response from the two young women, Perys ran to where three men were hauling in a boat that could have accommodated a crew of six. When it bumped against the stone harbourside the men jumped into it and Perys went with them.
    Looking critically at Perys and the manner of his dress, one of the men asked, ‘Do you know anything about crewing a boat?’
    ‘I did some rowing at school.’
    This was an understatement. He had been stroke oarsman in the most successful eights the school had ever known.
    ‘This isn’t a school outing on some inland river - ’
    ‘Shut up!’ This from the oldest of the three men. ‘He’ll do.’
    As they were pushing the boat off from the harbour wall another two men jumped on board, providing a full crew.
    Speed in reaching the scene of the foundered ship was essential and the six men bent their backs to the task of propelling themselves through the water as fast as was humanly possible.
    Despite his prowess in the school eights, Perys had difficulty keeping up with the others. Even so, they quickly overhauled a couple of smaller boats which had put out before them, and were soon among the floating wreckage of ship and cargo. It was there they plucked their first survivor from the sea.
    The man had suffered an injury to his left arm. Clinging to a large piece of timber, he was close to exhaustion, but he possessed enough strength to scream when his injured arm was banged against the side as he was hauled inside the boat.
    Suddenly, something attracted Perys’s attention in the water. He stopped rowing, causing the oars on his side of the boat to foul each other.
    ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ demanded the fisherman who had queried Perys’s ability to man an oar.
    ‘I saw something in the water . . . over there.’ He pointed to a confused tangle of sail and rigging from the stricken vessel.
    ‘It’s just wreckage,’ said another of the crewmen, then, ‘Look! There’s someone in the water, up ahead.’
    The fishermen took up their oars again, but amidst the tangle of rigging close to the boat Perys was certain he had seen a man’s head momentarily rise clear of the water before disappearing once more beneath the surface. Further argument with the others would only waste precious time. Kicking off his shoes, Perys stood up and dived into the water.
    It was cold enough to take his breath away and as he came to the surface he was aware of the angry shouts of the