The Safehouse on the Atlantic

The second night at sea had brought a relentless gale that tested every rivet of *The Connemara*. In the ship's galley, while thirty-foot Atlantic swells slammed against the reinforced steel hull, Maeve had sat at the bolted mess table with Captain O'Malley and five senior crewmen from South Boston. The crew—tough, tattooed men who had worked the Boston fish piers since they were teenagers—had treated Maeve with the quiet, reverent…