The Man Who Rose from the Sea

The Man Who Rose from the Sea

I found him, covered in seaweed, and weak as a newborn kitten. A large wave brought him almost to my feet. I ran out into the surf and pulled him ashore. His chest moved; at least he was breathing, thus far. He was dressed in a navy blue coat, white shirt, and pants. I thought he might be a naval officer, but at that point, it was difficult to tell who he was or how he had found my island home. I struggled to get him on his feet, and half dragged him, half pulled him to my home on the island, where I could care for him, whoever he was. Once I got him inside, I helped him to the spare bed. I pulled off his boots, and I began to remove his shirt when I discovered his back was raw. I knew well no shark could have done this. I began to clean the wounds on his back, seeking to comfort him in any way I could. He moaned twice, then fell into a deep slumber. He did not awaken for almost two days. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. Especially where he came from. How he managed to find an island that was completely isolated. I strode toward the kitchen and began to get some kindling to build a fire in the wood stove. I had a few chickens in a small coop in the back of my home, and I gathered several eggs. I began to prepare a simple island breakfast of taro, bananas, and eggs. I hoped he would eat just a little. I had no idea how long he had been in the water. I wanted to question him and would proceed to do so once he began to speak. I was so very curious about him. He was close to my age. Once the mud that caked his face was wiped away, he was handsome, not a bad catch. Once again, he moaned. I went into the spare room to find him sitting on the bed, his long legs touching the floor. I smiled: “Good morning, my name is Sarah Jane Whitley, and you are?” The deep baritone voice answered: “I am Lieutenant Jacob Donnelly, of His Majesty’s Navy. Where am I?” I replied curtly: “This is Star Island, off the state of Maine; I am the sole inhabitant.” Somehow, that felt like the correct thing to say to him. He smiled, then winced as he attempted to stand up. “Your back is a bloody raw mass of skin. What happened to you? How did you manage to get to my island?” He chortled as he replied: “I was keelhauled by the captain of my ship for disobeying his order to fire on a small French vessel. Several sailors who served under me freed me from under the ship; otherwise I would have drowned. Miss Whitley, how did you come to be the only inhabitant of this island?” I smiled for the first time: “I had an argument with my father, he threw me out. I took a rowboat, rowed out here and have been here ever since.” He returned my smile: “we certainly make an interesting pair, neither of us can go home.” I thought about that for several moments: “yes, that is certain.” The days turned into weeks as Jacob’s back began to heal. I used herbs to make a calming salve; each time I touched his back he moaned, from the pain. As Jacob recovered, he began to help around the island. He cleared a few patches so we would have a larger garden, more vegetables and taro. Life had become idyllic for both of us in those early months. Soon the rains came, part of the island flooded, I was prepared for the worst. Going back to my father’s home was my worse scenario, he was a rich man who made life hell for all of us. I thought about my brother and sister, they were still living in the huge brick Georgian house, with amenities I did have nor wanted. No one ever came to our island, except several Sokokis Indians. The first time they simply wanted to barter for food, we told them we had no extra, and thought they would not bother us again. Jacob was outside at dawn, when there came a blood curdling yell. Jacob, came inside, we barricaded ourselves inside. The only weapons we had were my bow and a few arrows. I had an old Brown Bess, but it had been fired in years. Jacob, quickly had me gather the bow and arrows, I also brought the Brown Bess. The Indians came closer and closer in the dugout canoes, they had torches, I knew they meant to burn us out. Jacob, took the Brown Bess from my trembling hands, and began to fire. I shot flaming arrows at them. They left but we knew they would return; they took their dead with them, we had won this time. Life returned to normalcy after that attack, at least for a short time. After the attack, Jacob became restless, island life was hard for him. He had no where to go, no way to return to Ireland, he knew there was a bounty on his head. I was sharing the island with a hunted man. Jacob, wanted to return to life at sea, he thought he could do that as a merchantman, under an assumed name. He began to talk about it more and more; I attempted to dissuade him several times. I asked myself if I was falling for Jacob, I was not sure it was love, but there were feelings there. I decided to wait and see what happened. I prayed he would stay on the island with me. One cold gray morning, we spotted a merchant ship, as it sailed toward the coast of Star Island. The rain began to come down, in the slow rhythm of a spring shower. Jacob turned toward me: “Sarah, it is time for me to go, we both knew this day would come.” He strode toward the rowboat, he rowed out toward the merchantman ship. I stood on shore, tears streaming down my face, my one chance at happiness was gone.