Chapter 12
In horror, Rhys watched Alf stumble across the deck, his movements slow and stiff as an old dog whose master had unexpectedly turned on him. Rhys had known Bridie was supposed to be working on a voyage log, but not that she’d promised to share her notebook with Alf. How could he have known? No one had told him, least of all Bridie.
‘Right.’ Reverend Cummings cleared his throat. ‘Where were we?’
Good question, Welsh names? The text? Rhys had no recollection. Beside him, Annie kept her gaze fixed on the deck. Siân’s eyes swam with sympathy.
‘Now young man, you mustn’t blame yourself.’ Reverend Cummings’ eyes winked kindly. ‘The problem started long before your friendship.’
This may have been true, but Rhys didn’t find his words reassuring.
‘The Lord works in mysterious ways,
