Jocelyn smashed into the icy waves with a force that drove all air from her lungs and pushed her deep under the water’s surface. Stunned and disoriented, the girl wasn’t even certain which way was up. It was terrifying, so dark and horribly cold. She tried to kick, but her legs were tangled in the long tails of her father’s jacket. Jocelyn struggled to get free as though her life depended on it, because, as she full well knew, it did. With a Herculean effort she was able to wrench her arms from the sleeves. Captain Hook’s coat sank to the bottom of the sea.

The girl flailed and kicked, fighting for the surface. Something in the water brushed against her face. She reached, barely grasping it in her frantic hands—a rope! Hand over hand, Jocelyn pulled herself along. It was hard to keep going; her chest burned with the searing, horrific pain of drowning.

Memories darted through her mind as though being performed on her own private stage.

It was Christmastime and Sir Charles had given a ball. How did the ladies manage not to fidget and scratch in their gowns? Her own little dress felt tight and itchy. She wondered, had her mother ever danced with her father like that?

She was at the seashore, a bit older, missing her front teeth. She sat on the sand, trying to make a castle, but she was too close to the water. Even when the tide crept up and destroyed her work, she refused to move. Stamping a foot at the waves, she yelled, “Go away! I was here first!”

She was in a fast carriage heading for another seashore holiday. The countryside raced away, giving the impression that the coach was standing still while the earth moved. Traveling so fast was exciting. Grandfather’s warm hand covered hers. He smiled at her.

Jocelyn was tired. So tired. The need for air was unbearable.

At last, quite literally at the end of her rope, Jocelyn’s reaching hand grasped solid wood. With indescribable relief, she broke through the surface of the water. She took a deep, shuddering breath, gulping air and more than a little seawater. Her throat burned and head ached, but she was grateful to be alive. She found that she was gripping the edge of her own spare-spare dinghy. Captain Krueger’s plan to keep Jocelyn and her crew from escaping the Hook’s Revenge by pushing the little boat overboard had proved to be her salvation.

It does my heart good to know how much the villain would have hated that.

Jocelyn managed to pull herself in before collapsing from exhaustion. It was several minutes before she regained enough sense to take stock of the situation.

The girl was clearly stranded in the middle of the ocean. She had no food. In the bottom of the boat there was plenty of fresh water from the storm, but if she did not start to bail soon, she would sink. Her jacket was gone; one of her shoes was missing. The storm continued to blow with horrifying force, tossing the dinghy about on immense waves. Such conditions would have made it impossible for Jocelyn to steer even if her oars had not been lost.

On the positive side, by some miracle she had not lost her sword. She still had her wits about her. She was uninjured. And, for the time being, at least, Jocelyn was alive. She would just have to figure out how to stay that way.