Page 66 of Sins of a Scot
“We have tae,” Owen bellowed, and grabbing her by the hand, he ran at full force toward the harbor wall, pulling her along with him. In that instant, she knew what he was about to do, and terror washed over her.
“Owen,” she screamed as he launched off the wall, dragging her with him.
They crashed into the freezing cold water below, the impact and cold shocking the air from her lungs.
“Kick yer legs, Iseabail,” he yelled, looking at her fiercely. “Ye have tae help me. Kick yer legs.”
The waves crashed against their faces, and with blood pouring from one arm, Owen held Iseabail up with the other. By his face he was pained by any movement, and yet, he still began taking single armed strokes with his injured arm. Even as he tried to hold her up with the other, Iseabail choked, trying with all her might to kick with her legs and keep herself afloat, at the same time, choking on the water that splashed into her mouth.
The sailors now saw their struggle against the waves, and began yelling frantically to each other.
“They’re in the water.”
“Get them a rope!”
“Man the rudder. Bring her about.”
Iseabail strained to keep her head above water, but as hard as she kicked her legs, she kept sinking beneath the surface. The men’s voices dulled as her ears filled with the water she was struggling to fight against.
“Grab the rope,” a sailor yelled.
Blindly, she threw out a hand, but could not see what she was trying to reach for. The sailor pulled the rope back into the boat, wrapping it around his arm, before throwing it back out towardher. This time, it landed just inches away, and thrashing about her, she grabbed it with both hands.
It was only then that she realized Owen’s grip had loosened, and as she turned to find him, his eyes were half closed and he seemed to be slipping away.
“Owen,” she screamed, reaching out to him.
But he was too far, and a second later, she found herself travelling at great speed as the sailors pulled her in. They moved fast, hand over hand, pulling her closer to the ship.
Three men grabbed at her clothing, and struggling between them, they pulled her overboard. It might have been painful, only Iseabail was too cold and terrified to notice. No sooner was she safe on the boat, than she turned back to see where Owen was.
“We need tae go back,” she bellowed.
“We cannae reach him,” a sailor cried.
Iseabail then turned and looked the man straight in the eye. “We are nae leaving this harbor without him.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Through heavy eyelids, Owen watched the sailors drag Iseabail onto the ship. At least she was safe. That’s all he cared about. He was too tired to fight anymore. The waves continued to crash over him as he swallowed even more water, and as he was tossed about, like a leaf in the wind, he resigned himself to the fact that this was it.
I cannae fight any longer. The boat is too far away. Iseabail is safe. That’s all that matters.
His eyes closed, and he began slipping into darkness, when suddenly, he felt someone tugging at his plaid. Seconds later, more hands grabbed at him, followed by yells and shouts of many men.
“Grab him.”
“I’ve got him.”
“Come on, lads. Pull him up.”
Flickering his eyes open, Owen saw strange faces gazing down at him with worry, and then he felt the hard boards of the deck.
“I need a blanket,” he heard Iseabail demand.
Her voice seemed so far away, and for a moment, Owen wondered if he wasn’t dreaming. But then, hands were on him again, and he felt himself being lifted from the deck and placed somewhere else. After that, a blanket was wrapped around him, and he felt a tender hand brush across his forehead.
“Dinnae leave me, Owen,” Iseabail cried.
