Daughter of the Waves

My Father, My Hero

As soon as Orla left my workload increased tenfold, or so it seemed, and Mrs Kennedy became even more critical than ever. But being so busy at least gave me a blessed respite from worrying too much, at least during the daylight hours. Four, five, six days passed, and in the darkness of the long nights I fretted, convinced the plan had failed. 

The seventh day dawned grey and drizzly. I went about my work as usual all morning. This day happened to be a Sunday, and The Master went to church, and then came home about mid morning. He gave orders that he was not to be disturbed and then locked himself in his study. 

As the day wore on, I became increasingly agitated and distracted from my work. I could not shake the feeling that something was about to happen. I had often had these feelings in my short life, and I knew them to be the legacy of my mother's blood, so I decided to trust them. I cautiously allowed myself a small sliver of hope. 

I didn't have long to wait. Around three o'clock there came a banging on the front door, and someone began shouting, demanding to be let in. It took me a few moments to realise it was my father's voice I was hearing! Could it be possible that Orla's plan had worked, and that Da was here to rescue me? 

For a moment I stood rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. The banging stopped abruptly, and I heard Mrs Kennedy's voice, but I could not quite make out what she was saying. I decided to venture downstairs, but before I could do that the door burst open and McCarthy entered the room. He grabbed my arm and began pulling me down the servants stair, into the bowels of the house. I began shouting "Da, Da, I am here!" But McCarthy placed his rough, dirty hand over my mouth. Frantic now, I bit him, hard, and he let go, swearing copiously. I took advantage of his looser hold to prize myself free of the grasp of his other hand, and ran back up the stairs, calling for my father the whole time. 

McCarthy was only a few steps behind1 me, and gaining fast. I ran faster than I had ever run in my life, and eventually, after what seemed a lifetime, gained the top of the stairs, just in time to slam it shut and draw the bolt, hoping McCarthy would not escape. 

I could hear renewed shouting near the front of the house, so I made my way as quickly as I could in that direction.  I kept running in the direction of my father's voice, and eventually rounded the corner into the front hall to see my father brandishing a musket and holding The Master and Mrs Kennedy hostage. 

I heard him say "Where is my daughter, you scurvy son of a dog!!", and The Master reply "I have no idea, you addle-pated jackanape!" Neither of them had noticed me. I called out "I'm here, Da!! I'm alright!!" He finally turned in my direction and saw me, and broke into a smile. I crossed the space between us in a few short steps and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back with one arm, still aiming the musket at The Master and Mrs Kennedy. 

My face buried in Da's midriff, I dimly heard The Master's sneering, cold voice say "Ah, how touching, a family reunion!" Da let go of me and gently pushed me behind him. 

His voice was equally cold as he asked "So, Lockwood, you admit you knew Roisin was my daughter and that she was kidnapped by the priest?"

"I admit no such thing, you scoundrel! How dare you break into my home and hold myself and my staff at gunpoint!!" 

Well, I have her now, Sir, so I will bid you good day and we will be going. I am taking my daughter home with me. I hope never to see your face again." With this we walked out into the summer's day, where I was delighted to find two horses waiting for us, and best of all, Orla, holding the reins. I ran to her and hugged her with as much enthusiasm as I had my father. I began to thank her for her bravery, but my father cut our reunion short, saying we had to get well away from here before nightfall.

We three quickly mounted the horses and galloped away, Orla and I together on one horse, in the direction of home. When we were certain we were not being followed, I tried asking my father some questions, but as home drew nearer and nearer he became increasingly taciturn. Orla answered some of my questions. I was pleased to discover that because her part in the plot to rescue me was known, it was too dangerous for her to go back into Sir Lockwood's service, and she would be coming to live with us in our village. However, I got the feeling there was something that they were both hiding from me. I could not put my finger on it, but something was definitely amiss. I soon found out what it was. I casually remarked to Orla and my father that my mother would welcome the extra pair of hands to help her in work healing the sick. Both of them went deathly quiet. A chill ran down my spine as I remembered the strange dream I had had about my mother. As the silence became more and more charged, I spoke up and demanded to know what they were not telling me. My father slowed his horse to a stop and brought it round to face us. He looked stricken. "Father, please tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me!" I demanded. 

It was then that he gave me the news that I had been waiting for ever since I had had my strange dream: my mother was gone.