Foam curled back from the racing ship in twin streams of white. The canvas overhead billowed and snapped, straining to contain a rising wind. The lookout's cry echoed down from above, sharp and full of fear, a single word. ?Storm!? But Hudson had known the call was coming before then. In the darkening water and the cut of wind, in the desertion of the sea-birds and in the sudden aching of his hands he could feel it. Only two days from Rhy'Din's shore and haven, they were still too far out at sea to seek shelter in a harbor.
Captain Mabons emerged from his cabin and stood by Hudson on the deck, studying the sky. Clouds boiled up from the west, too fast, lit with flashes of green and blue-white beneath by the lightning crawling through them. Hudson's plaid, thrown on over trousers for warmth, whipped around his legs, and one net-scarred hand raised to grip the brooch on his shoulder. ?Thi tha chomhnadh nan ard, tiuirich duinn do bheannachd aigh, iomchair leinn air bharr an t-sal, iomchair sinn gu cala tamh, seachainn oirnn an stoirm o ?n iar.?* The Gaelic was uttered without conscious thought, softly ? a barely audible prayer. Captain Mabons gave Hudson a sharp look and then turned back to the sight of the fast-approaching storm.
?We'll have to turn into it. The wind will uproot the mast and buckle the decks, even with the sails down.? Captain Mabons made it a plain statement, without hesitation but still finely judged. The lesser of two evils. Hudson nodded silently, accepting the decision. He turned away from the rail while the Captain lifted his voice in the call that would carry even over the increasing volume of the sails booming. ?Lower sails! Sea anchor! Helm, hard over ? bring us around! We're riding into it!?
The crew was solid, confident in their Captain and used to trusting his decisions. It kept them working while waves started to rise and slam into the wood and the wind drove the first squalls of rain down like needles of ice onto the deck. Hudson wasn't one of the crew, but he had experience and strength ? none of them protested when he joined in. Ropes skidded through palms, leaving friction burns, and shouts and calls of direction criss-crossed the frigate with urgency.
Chain rattled heavily around the windlass. Lowering the sea anchor wouldn't halt them in place, but would minimize their drift. The helmsman with his over-developed shoulders and arms still had to strain in a constant battle. The ship had to hit the waves directly, had to let the prow break the force to either side. If it turned crosswise, one large wave could swamp them.
Above the sky was black, and the wind drove the rain in horizontal sheets. The deck was slick, heaving with the passing of each wave and washed with their broken force. The Captain directed the chaos of sailors lashing ropes and tying down what had been loose. As suddenly as the storm had risen, there had been no time for such preparations. Hudson worked with the sailors, throwing his weight into the struggles, ignoring the ache of his scarred hands and battered knees in the effort to keep the Escape on an even keel.
They were almost breathing water with the force of the rain and the constant wash of waves across the deck. The helmsman's feet skidded for an instant, and the Escape turned ? not fully, not for more than a moment, but it turned. A wave crashed down and Hudson could feel the sickening roll as the heavily-laden ship tilted before recovering.
Lightning turned the sky to strobe, thunder exploding in the same instant. Flicker, crash, flicker, crash, flickercrashflicker. It gave everything a strange, jerky appearance. Captain Mabons still called out orders, cursing and swearing at the helmsman to ?Hold fast, damn your eyes, hold fast or we're all dead!? None of it was audible over the sound of thunder and waves that had become a constant roar.
The wind and the waves were taking their toll ? the Captain watched helplessly while a spar snapped, trailing ropes and hooks, and swung down across the deck before tumbling into the sea. One of the sailors cried out in its wake and fell, clutching at his ruined eye with one arm while the other hung limp. There was another sickening lurch ? the helmsman had slipped again before recovering.
Flickercrashflicker. The stricken sailor tried to regain his footing against the tossing and heaving of the frigate. Flickercrashflicker. The Captain could see Hudson there ? able to identify the man only because of that woolen plaid ? with the sailor's good arm draped across his shoulders. Flickercrashflicker. The Escape bucked, rolled, the tip of its mast almost touching the wall of water rising above it. Flickercrashflicker. Deep green and black swept over the deck while sailors yelled frantically and grabbed for lines, rails, whatever they could reach. Flickercrashflicker.
Hudson and the injured sailor were gone.
*O Thou who pervadest the heights, imprint on us Thy gracious blessing, carry us over the surface of the sea, carry us safely to a haven of peace, ward off us the storm from the west.
Captain Mabons emerged from his cabin and stood by Hudson on the deck, studying the sky. Clouds boiled up from the west, too fast, lit with flashes of green and blue-white beneath by the lightning crawling through them. Hudson's plaid, thrown on over trousers for warmth, whipped around his legs, and one net-scarred hand raised to grip the brooch on his shoulder. ?Thi tha chomhnadh nan ard, tiuirich duinn do bheannachd aigh, iomchair leinn air bharr an t-sal, iomchair sinn gu cala tamh, seachainn oirnn an stoirm o ?n iar.?* The Gaelic was uttered without conscious thought, softly ? a barely audible prayer. Captain Mabons gave Hudson a sharp look and then turned back to the sight of the fast-approaching storm.
?We'll have to turn into it. The wind will uproot the mast and buckle the decks, even with the sails down.? Captain Mabons made it a plain statement, without hesitation but still finely judged. The lesser of two evils. Hudson nodded silently, accepting the decision. He turned away from the rail while the Captain lifted his voice in the call that would carry even over the increasing volume of the sails booming. ?Lower sails! Sea anchor! Helm, hard over ? bring us around! We're riding into it!?
The crew was solid, confident in their Captain and used to trusting his decisions. It kept them working while waves started to rise and slam into the wood and the wind drove the first squalls of rain down like needles of ice onto the deck. Hudson wasn't one of the crew, but he had experience and strength ? none of them protested when he joined in. Ropes skidded through palms, leaving friction burns, and shouts and calls of direction criss-crossed the frigate with urgency.
Chain rattled heavily around the windlass. Lowering the sea anchor wouldn't halt them in place, but would minimize their drift. The helmsman with his over-developed shoulders and arms still had to strain in a constant battle. The ship had to hit the waves directly, had to let the prow break the force to either side. If it turned crosswise, one large wave could swamp them.
Above the sky was black, and the wind drove the rain in horizontal sheets. The deck was slick, heaving with the passing of each wave and washed with their broken force. The Captain directed the chaos of sailors lashing ropes and tying down what had been loose. As suddenly as the storm had risen, there had been no time for such preparations. Hudson worked with the sailors, throwing his weight into the struggles, ignoring the ache of his scarred hands and battered knees in the effort to keep the Escape on an even keel.
They were almost breathing water with the force of the rain and the constant wash of waves across the deck. The helmsman's feet skidded for an instant, and the Escape turned ? not fully, not for more than a moment, but it turned. A wave crashed down and Hudson could feel the sickening roll as the heavily-laden ship tilted before recovering.
Lightning turned the sky to strobe, thunder exploding in the same instant. Flicker, crash, flicker, crash, flickercrashflicker. It gave everything a strange, jerky appearance. Captain Mabons still called out orders, cursing and swearing at the helmsman to ?Hold fast, damn your eyes, hold fast or we're all dead!? None of it was audible over the sound of thunder and waves that had become a constant roar.
The wind and the waves were taking their toll ? the Captain watched helplessly while a spar snapped, trailing ropes and hooks, and swung down across the deck before tumbling into the sea. One of the sailors cried out in its wake and fell, clutching at his ruined eye with one arm while the other hung limp. There was another sickening lurch ? the helmsman had slipped again before recovering.
Flickercrashflicker. The stricken sailor tried to regain his footing against the tossing and heaving of the frigate. Flickercrashflicker. The Captain could see Hudson there ? able to identify the man only because of that woolen plaid ? with the sailor's good arm draped across his shoulders. Flickercrashflicker. The Escape bucked, rolled, the tip of its mast almost touching the wall of water rising above it. Flickercrashflicker. Deep green and black swept over the deck while sailors yelled frantically and grabbed for lines, rails, whatever they could reach. Flickercrashflicker.
Hudson and the injured sailor were gone.
*O Thou who pervadest the heights, imprint on us Thy gracious blessing, carry us over the surface of the sea, carry us safely to a haven of peace, ward off us the storm from the west.