Sarah Morton hopes discovering the truth about the 1859 shipwreck of the Royal Charter will silence the demons of her past.
But, tormented by visions and threats on her life, Sarah fears the ship may claim her as its final victim.
Set along the dramatic and dangerous Anglesey coastline, The Charter is a story of greed and forgiveness -- when the treasures of the past evoke the crimes of today.
The Charter was my first published book in June 2012 and has consistently remained by best-selling novel, despite releasing a further three books. It has over seventy reviews on Amazon, and appeals to a wider audience from readers of crime to paranormal, from suspense to historical.
THE CHARTER
Prologue
October 26 1859
How can it be?
I stand on the edge of a high cliff. Holding back hair that whips across my face, I shield my eyes and squint through the stinging wind. Lifeless bodies dash against the rocks beneath me.
The ship disappears beneath the surface, battered by one huge wave after another. Rain mixes with tears that burn my eyes, and I feel as if I have woken from a nightmare of such terror my whole world has become horribly distorted. I know the sea. I have lived with it all my life. I have been raised to respect Mother Nature, and to underestimate at my peril the power of the ocean. But I have never witnessed such a storm as this.
How can it be?
I have no memory of reaching this cliff. The last thing I remember is being wrapped in mother’s arms on the rolling deck as my da strapped a belt around my waist.
“Women and children first,” he said. “Now, hush! You keep your hand on this belt; it’s all we own in the world, my angel. My precious angel. You keep it safe for Da. And you take good care of your mam. I’ll see you on the other side.”
Cold lips press into my cheek. Calloused palms cup my face for the merest of seconds. The other side of where? I want to ask. But he’s gone and the ship is lurching violently beneath my feet.
“Da! Help … help me!”
A sound like a gunshot rips through the air.
“Port anchor’s let go!” someone shouts. “Sweet Lord! Brace the yeards, lads, starboard won’t take the strain, else!”
I bury my head in my mother’s bosom; she wraps her shawl around me. The shrieking wind carries away the sounds of crying children, sobbing women, men barking orders. I cover my ears as strong hands lift me, push me towards the lifeboat.
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German
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Already translated.
Translated by Anika Abbate
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Debra Jansen
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