Unless, of course, there was something out there he didn’t know about. It was exhausting, but Kit could feel how the little ship answered to her helm and knew that she would weather the storm. They couldn’t speak but communicated with shouts and gestures to the compass and sent runners to pass along orders to the men. Valliere and Kit clung to the tiller, leaning on it to keep Africa’s head into the huge seas. They had split the watches, and the men who were on deck could do little more than trim the remaining sail when instructed and hang on for dear life. It’s early for a bad storm.”Įarly it may have been, but it was bad enough. Try to keep her heading but don’t force it. “We’ll do it turn and about,” he shouted. He turned to Kit and pointed to the compass then gripped his collar to put his mouth close to his ear. The discussion was ending with the captain slapping Valliere on the shoulder. He coughed and spat, then followed O’Neill to the tiller. Kit turned to reply to O’Neill, and a wall of rain dashed into his face, choking him. “You know any good prayers, son, you’d better say them. “Dear God,” Kit swore, shaking spray from his eyes and O’Neill laughed. The flickering of lightning was continuous, and now they were beginning to hear the first faint rumbles over the sound of wind and sea. “Look out!” O’Neill was at his elbow, and they both grabbed onto the shrouds as a wave washed over the deck.
0 kommentar(er)
