As the mate and his party hauled in the float that had kept our nose into the wind, Jyp bounded up onto the companionway. ‘Aye aye, cap’n! Ready, helm? Bring her round then – handsomely, now – a point, a point – sheets –’ His eyes fixed on the new rig, he gave his orders in a tense monotone, hardly a shout; but the deck fell so quiet his voice carried clearly. The crude-looking square-sail began to quiver, the yard creaked; I held my breath. The canvas thrashed once, twice, then swelled taut with a satisfying thump. The mast took the strain, creaked and quivered against its stays in the play of vast tensions, like invisible fingers – and held. The deck lost its lolling motion and rose smoothly as the ship strained sluggishly forward. A great sigh went up as everyone remembered to breathe again, as if we were trying to fill the sail ourselves.
Not quite noon? There stood the sun, all right, just off the zenith – though that might mean nothing, in this crazy world. It felt more like day’s end to me, after five hours in that hellhole – but then I’d started not long after dawn. Currents were building up in the crowd on deck, and I found myself drawn into one, headed for the foot of the new mainmast where two large barrels had been set up. Before I knew it I was gulping down a pannikin full of a potent mix; I’d never much liked rum, but even cut with water that grog was the best thing I’d ever tasted. Life flowed back into me with a rush, and I found myself grinning back at the other crewmen, and probably looking just as inane. I seemed to be getting along with them as well as with the officers, or maybe better, and that pleased me absurdly. Right from my college days I’d been always a chief, never an Indian, and there was a good side to being the greenhorn again. Not that there was much social distinction aboard; here came Jyp, wiping his lips from the same pannikin, and if the sailors cleared a path for him it was good-humouredly and with real respect.
‘Chow time, port watch!’ he shouted, and as half the hands went clattering and tumbling below he led me up to the quarterdeck for ours. He peered unenthusiastically under the covers of the elegant silver dishes Pierce’s steward had laid out on a folding table. ‘Just ships’ ordinary, I guess – beans, salt pork, German sausage, biscuit – and all cold, dammit. The galley stove went out in the last exchange.’
‘It takes five hours to relight?’
‘Out with a twenty-five pound shot, I meant – right out through the side.’
‘Umm. You know, this is just the weather one
‘By the most amazing coincidence’ … grinned Jyp. ‘Still, there’s rum to wash it down.’
Rum there was, in enormous tumblers, but I only managed one. Jyp swore I slid nose-down into my plate of beans, but he was exaggerating as usual; no way could I ever have flaked out before I’d finished the last one.
It was falling on me. I knew it, I could see it and I couldn’t even move, a meteor streaking down the sky, glowing larger by the minute, closer, clearer, greener till it blotted out the sky, roaring down on me in flame – a vast clutching hand. The fingers closed like falling pillars and a vast explosion tore me atom from atom and scattered me to the winds. Then, just as suddenly, I was awake, staring up at the sky, stained the deep indigo of a tropical twilight. I was glad of that; my eyes didn’t feel up to much else. The brighter stars gleamed like needles. Another blast shook me, and set the stars dancing in my head; I rolled over, found that was just as uncomfortable, and sat up with a groan. Now I was awake I knew that sound, and I fumbled confusedly for my sword.
‘Slept your fill, Master Stephen?’ inquired a familiar voice, mildly sardonic, from the direction of the helm. ‘Have no fear, they’re but signal guns.’
‘Of course,’ I mumbled, or something of the sort, fighting to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. ‘Nice uv yuh t’let m’sleep. Nice soft deck …’
A boot tapped musically against wood. ‘Your cabin’s yet unrepaired, or we’d have stowed you there. There’s water in the butt here, should you wish it.’
I downed a pannikin practically in one gulp, and felt a lot better. ‘Could I have another? Is there enough?’
‘To soak your head in, an it’ll not fall off!’ grinned Mall. I followed her advice, as far as my face anyhow; the water was tepid and brackish, but incredibly refreshing all the same. ‘Take all you will, there’s no lack. See, we’re in sight of land.’
