However even this tactic was not without its dangers, as the now directly oncoming waves made the ship rise and fall with even greater ferocity, literally dumping wave after wave of seawater onto the bow deck. His position becoming ever more perilous, Adam nonetheless stayed his post, doing all he could to hold on while peering dead ahead. Without warning a halyard suddenly gave way, its block and tackle swinging dangerously past his head and nearly killing him outright. Then he heard a man scream.

As he turned around to look, he saw that his bosun mate had slipped down onto the rain-soaked deck. Mere moments later, a rushing wave clambered its way up the starboard hull and burst aboard, the angry seawater exploding everywhere. The ferocious wall of water slammed into the poor man and suddenly propelled him overboard, his plaintive screaming fading away as he tumbled into the dark sea. Then the terrible ocean assaulted the decks yet again, this time also from starboard and taking another precious man with it.

The rain was lashing Adam’s face so hard that he had to squint through the pain, and he could barely see ahead. The only respites from the blackness were the abrupt lightning flashes that came crackling out of the night sky like fiery bolts hurled by angry gods. As he stood holding on to the lines for dear life, Adam quickly realized that he had never before experienced a storm of such ferocity, and that only a miracle could save them from this ruthless tempest. While the lightning flashed and the thunder roared, he did his best to stand his ground atop the pitching deck and peer out into the fathomless blackness, hoping to see nothing lying before them but the open sea.

And then, incredibly, he thought he heard a woman’s voice. It was as if someone, he knew not who, was screaming at him, trying to warn him of his ship’s impending doom. Then the woman’s voice was again lost to the raging storm, its tremolo fading as quickly as were the Intrepid’s chances for survival.

But such a thing cannot be! Adam realized as he again focused his gaze upon the churning sea ahead. I have heard tales of the sea winds blowing through a ship’s rigging and sounding like a woman’s plaintive voice, and now I have heard it for myself!

After a time the woman’s voice came to his ears yet again, her warnings now even more strident, and for a split second he could have sworn he was hearing his beloved Constance, warning him of the rocks that lay dead ahead.

Like brave Ulysses, I too am being seduced! But unlike Ulysses’s temptresses, mine is not real, nor am I tied to the ship’s mainmast to keep me from joining with her! Ignore what you are hearing, for she does not exist!

No sooner had the woman’s voice faded away again than did Adam spy the one thing that every seaman fears the most—a rogue wave. The Cape was a breeding ground for such monsters, which seemed to come out of nowhere. They could tower as high as thirty or even forty feet, easily reducing the strongest of ships to matchsticks.

Before Adam could shout out a warning to the others, the great wave slammed into the Intrepid’s port bow, washing Adam overboard and directly into the churning sea. Screaming wildly and gasping for breath, he tried his best to ride the waves but then a broken mast spar and some of the Intrepid’s torn sailcloth were driven his way, entangling him and sending him under. At first all he could think about was how cold it was. Unbelievably cold, and with an all-encompassing darkness that he never knew existed.

As the churning seawater at last invaded his lungs, Adam’s final thoughts were of his beloved Constance.

Chapter 1

New Bedford, Massachusetts

Present Day

His name was Garrett Richmond, and he had always wanted to live alongside the ocean.

Garrett pulled his black Jeep Wrangler to a stop then turned off the engine. For a time he ignored his passenger and looked lovingly out the window at the ramshackle old house he had just bought.

“You’ve really lost it this time,” his friend and business partner Trent Birch said. “Do you know that? I can’t understand why you want some dump that’s going to take years to put right! You’ve gone crazy!”

Garrett realized that everyone thought he was nuts. But in his heart he knew better. He had expertise in classic American antebellum architecture that few others of his profession could claim, and he’d easily seen the promise in this house. But Trent was right about one thing. Without question, the impending restoration would be both difficult and costly.

He turned and smiled.

“Crazy?” he asked. “Maybe . . . but it’s my funeral, right?”

Garrett got out of the Jeep then reached behind the driver’s seat and opened a cooler. He pulled out two bottles of cold champagne, a couple of Styrofoam cups, and a small box. He next produced the two folding chairs he had also packed. When Trent saw the cold champagne, he smirked.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess!” Trent exclaimed. “You’re going to christen this dump, aren’t you? But why two bottles? It seems like one would be plenty.”

After handing the box and chairs to Trent, Garrett smiled and carried the bottles toward the front porch of the house.

“Simple,” he replied, with Trent in tow.