A Chapter

Dark, cold waves crashed over his head. He struggled to swim to the surface. Great gulps of icy cold water forced themselves into his mouth. Yellow fingered streaks of lightning filled the sky overhead. Ferocious booms and claps of thunder roared across the surf.

He was a strong swimmer but the cold water began to take its toll on his body. There was a slight tingling sensation at first, but now it was getting stronger and stronger. Something banged into his head. With power-fading strokes he pulled himself above the water once more.

Just a few feet away bobbing and plunging with the waves was a lifeboat. If he could just reach it, he would be okay. The tingling sensation was growing stronger. His strokes in the water were getting weaker and weaker. As he treaded water, he tried to voice a cry. His feeble voice was lost among the violence of the storm. He had to make the boat. His head to began to pound. His lungs were nearing the point of exhaustion.

"Swim lad, swim!" came a command across the water. The strong clear voice brought strength back into his kicks and pulls. As he neared the raft, hope sprang forth. He would be alright. A flash of lightning illuminated the features of the figure yelling for him in the boat.

"Captain!" he cried. At just that moment the wave carrying the boat swelled up. He was between the wave carrying the boat and the next one. He lost sight of the boat. He began to despair. Then, strong hands grabbed his wet shirt and jerked him out of the water and into the boat.

As he was rolling in the bottom of the boat. Angry mouthfuls of bile, vomit and saltwater expelled themselves from his mouth. He was cold. He could tell that he was shaking uncontrolably. Someone was wrapping a blanket around him. And then he passed out.

Sometime later...

"Well, is he going to make it?" demanded a stiff voice.

"I deem he has had a rough go at it. He drank a lot of salt water and spent a fair amount of time in the water. In a couple of more days full blood circulation should return and he will regain much of the color and strength he lost and ..." replied a kindly voice in a matter of fact tone.

"Doctor, I do not have time to sit here and wait on a boy to regain his color!" was yelled in reply.

"Captian,... if he was only suffering from the effects of mild hypothermia I would not be as concerned, but ....it is this other mark that has me somewhat concerned," responded the doctor.

"What other mark?" demanded the Captain somewhat alarmed. He had not noticed any other mark on the boy as he had pulled him from the water. He had not noticed any mark when the boy had his wet clothes stripped off and wrapped in dry blankets. And for three days while the boy lay in the doctor's bed, he had not noticed any mark. The Captain prided himself on seeing everything. For him to have missed something this important was troubling indeed.

The doctor gently rolled the boy over. He carefully pulled the shoulder length hair up and out of the way. As he pulled the hair up a large and nasty looking gash was visible.

"I can't begin to image how much blood he lost, Captain. If it were just his time in the water, he'd be okay. But this is a vicious cut. He's taken the fever. He shakes. He moans. We don't know how long he was in the water...and we don't know if he took the blow before or after he got in the water. I do doubt that he will recover, however..."

"Enough, man! It is bad enough that I have just discovered that this boy may never recover, without you examining every possibility about where and when this...this attack could have happened. There are only four people that knew the extent of his mission: one is lying there with his brains bashed in, you and me have been here the entire time, that only leaves..."

"Cutter..." whispered the doctor.