I heard splashing behind me and turned to see Brocmal struggling in the water. Gripping the side of the boat, I leaned out, snagged the edge of his cloak, and pulled him to me. "Here, Brocmal…take hold."
Sputtering, shivering, he found a handhold on the ship's cladding and pulled himself up the side of the overturned boat. I now turned my attention to finding others. "Hold on, Brocmal," I said, lowering myself back into the water.
"Where are you going, Aidan?"
"To search for others." Clutching the submerged rail, I made a circuit of the overturned ship. Reaching the prow, I swung under and started down the other side. Clynnog, Faolan, and Ciaran were clinging to the cladding.
"Aidan! Ciaran!" shouted Clynnog when he saw us. "Have you seen the rest?"
"Only Brocmal," I said. "He is just the other side of the ship. What about Dugal?"
"I saw Brynach, I think," answered Ciaran. "But no one else." He glanced around at the high-topped waves. "I do not know what happened to him."
"What should we do now?" I asked.
"We can do nothing more until we reach the shore," the seafaring monk replied. "But we are fortunate, the wind and waves will soon carry us onto the strand."
I could but marvel at his placid acceptance of our predicament. Fortunate? I do not think I would have chosen that word in this extremity.
"I will return to Brocmal," I replied, "and explain our good fortune to him."
Thus, I continued my circumnavigation of the overturned ship and, finding no one else, came once more to Brocmal. He had pulled himself higher up the hull. I called to him to help me, but he would not give me his hand for fear of sliding back into the water. "You can climb by yourself," he told me briskly. "I dare not risk another fall."
"Clynnog, Faolan, and Ciaran are just the other side of the keel," I said, squirming up the side of the ship beside him. "Clynnog says we shall soon be ashore thanks to the wind and waves."
"What of the others?" Brocmal asked. "What of Bishop Cadoc?"
"I cannot say. Ciaran saw Brynach, but no one else."
"All drowned, I suppose," observed Brocmal. "Your Dugal included."
I did not know what to say to this, so I made no reply.
The rolling up-and-down swell of the sea grew steadily more severe as the boat drifted nearer to the shore. Now, when the ship rose up high, I could see the staggered ranks of waves breaking from the swell and pounding white and furious onto the strand and I could hear the booming roar. Soon these very waves were breaking all around and over us.
I heard a shout and looked up. The seagoing monks had climbed higher up the hull and were holding onto the keel. "Up here!" Clynnog called again. "Come up here, you two. It is safer."
I nudged Brocmal and indicated that we should join the others. He refused to move, and kept fearful eyes on the loud-clashing waves. "He says it is safer up there," I shouted. Brocmal's mouth moved in reply, but I could not hear him above the sea-roar.
"He will not move," I called to Clynnog.
"Then look out for yourself, at least," he advised.
I looked at Brocmal, shivering, clinging desperately to the hull. "I had best stay here with him," I answered.
"Then hold tight," Clynnog shouted, straining above the booming crash. "It will get rough. But when you feel the sand beneath your feet get clear of the ship as fast as you can. Understand?"
As Brocmal had made no attempt to even look at Clynnog, I started to repeat the seafarer's warning. "I heard him," the disagreeable monk muttered. "I am not dead yet."
I did not have time to make any reply, for a wave broke over the ship and from then on it was all I could do to keep my grip. The sea tossed hapless Ban Gwydd to and fro like so much driftwood, raising it up and slamming it down, first the prow and then the stern, spinning the boat around, washing over it in torrents. Fingers aching, shivering with cold, I clung to the cladding and prayed for deliverance.
White-frothed water surged on every side. I could hear nothing but the thunder of hard-driven waves colliding with one another as they were flung onto the beach. With each surge, I slipped lower down the side. Finally, I could maintain my grip no longer, and when a last great wave pounded over us, I was torn from my place, spun, and rolled under the water.
Dizzy, disoriented, I floundered, flinging my arms and legs about. My knee struck something firm: sand!
Gathering my legs beneath me, I stood…and to my surprise rose halfway out of the water. The shore was directly before me-fifty or sixty paces away. Remembering Clynnog's advice to get clear of the ship, I moved my feet and began running. I had not taken three steps, however, when I was struck from behind and thrown down. The water pummelled me and tumbled me along the bottom. As the wave withdrew, I struggled to my knees and came up spitting sand. I took two more steps before the next wave caught me; this time, however, I was able to brace myself in time and kept my feet.
