“No,” I answered. “Just hold on. The sails are all stowed, so now we’re at the mercy of the water and the wind.”
“God, I wish I had my yacht. Are we at least heading east?”
As the ship crested up a swell, I pointed ahead of us. “The light came from that horizon as it got brighter out. We can assume we’re still headed to the east.” I looked at him. “If the tides change, or the current is angry, we could be pulled far off course.”
The king looked to the northeast of the ship.
I put a hand on his arm. “We aren’t going to be pulled that far. I’m very good at navigation, and once the waves calm, we can make sure we’re on course.”
Except the storm raged on, all day and into the night. We all took turns at the wheel, holding the course. I was pleased to see the sun set mostly behind us. But the water tossed us. There was no hope for fresh foods—everything was cold and preserved, eaten at the suspended table on the chairs that swung with the boat. We all had to give up our beds and use the hammocks, and there was no real sleep for me. I could only take a spell of about two hours before I had to climb the stairs and check the direction and the storm and the winds.
We also all took time bailing. Rilen came up with an ingenious way to get the water out, but it had to be done with precise timing. Open the cannon ports at the front of the ship as we rocketed down another massive thirty or forty-foot wave and pull them shut before we hit the trough. It kept the below decks mostly clear of heavy water.
I had to have a small crash course on vampire speed—it was the only way to open and close the doors fast enough to keep more water out.
As the sun came up the next day, the storm was still beating on us. I took the wheel from the completely exhausted Roran and sent him below. I looked at Dorian, who was staring out at the water.
Watching the water ahead of us, I realized we weren’t heading due east anymore. I was starting to doubt that we were going to be able to keep on course.
“I checked the hulls below,” I said. “I don’t know how much longer they are going to hold together if we keep getting battered like this.”
Dorian turned and stared at me. “What?”
“It’s a double hull, meant to ride out the fiercest of storms,” I said of our ship. “But this storm is ridiculous. There’s no sign of it letting up. The hull is being beaten and twisted and drenched. Wood takes on water, and wet wood doesn’t float or hold together. We’ll be at the bottom in another day if this keeps up.”
“I thought you were a master of the seas.”
“Iam,” I stated, “but theseahas its own ideas right now, including halving our ship and sending us to the bottom.”
I pointed to the brightest part of the clouds that were churning horribly above us. “The sun has moved this morning, and we’re not on course for the Spit anymore.”
“Can we do anything?”
“We’re doing all we can to stay afloat,” I said.
Rilen was next to us a moment later, helping me hold the wheel steady. “I don’t see or feel an end to this storm.” He glanced at me. “Do we know what’s south and east of S’Kir over the water?”
“There are a few islands,” Dorian said. “Just a few. There’s another fairly large landmass almost directly opposite, and an archipelago thousands of miles long with islands and lagoons. That’s it. We are a world of water.”
“We need this storm to stop,” I stated. “I can hold our course fairly well, but I cannot stop the water from leaking in and soaking the wood and twisting the planks. We are all exhausted, and we are all soaked to our very bones. We can’t keep going on hardtack and fruit.”
“I got tossed out of the hammock this morning,” Rilen volunteered.
“I got slammed against the bulkhead when I was bailing,” Belshazzar said.
I glanced around at the group of men surrounding me. “Can’t any of you divine how much longer this storm will go? Anyone? Hazard a guess?”
They passed a look around, and finally, Belshazzar shrugged. “Tried,” he said. “It seems like we are in perpetual storms right now.”
“Really couldn’t see an end to it.” Rilen let out a breath as the boat rolled again through the peaks and troughs that we were being tossed around on.
The creaking planks were starting to get too loud too often. The boat had maybe a day left in the storm-tossed waters before it broke apart and took us down.
Dorian stared at me, then quirked an eyebrow.
“What?” I asked.
“Break it,” he answered.
