The captain drew breath to speak as a flash of light ripped through the few portholes into the dark space and another deafening thunderclap rattled the walls. Before he could say anything, a huge crack sounded overhead. A second passed, and something massive fell above them, shaking the ceilings.
If Will had to guess, one of the masts had been struck by lightning. The ship swayed violently, and the dripping and disheveled captain braced himself against the doorframe.
“President Garn,” said the captain as he heaved a ragged breath, “I must speak with you.”
President Garn nodded and stepped into the passageway, leaving his door open behind him. “What can I do for you?”
It was dark, but Will’s eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out the earnestness in the captain’s profile.
“Mr. Garn, I have done all I can for the vessel, and I am afraid that it cannot stand this sea. We are in great danger.”
The captain paused, and Will could make out the sound of metal scraping and fabric flapping on the deck above them. TheWindermerewas not holding, and even the captain was terrified.
Captain Fairfield drew a solemn breath and continued. “I don’t know whether there is a God or not. Your people say there is.” He paused and looked heavenward. “And if there is a God, and He will hear you, you had better talk to Him.”
President Garn placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “I will awaken my people and ask them to pray. Their words will wield great power, if anything is to change the course of this storm.”
President Garn stepped outside his room and shut the door behind him. The captain offered his thanks and disappeared down the corridor.
Will closed his eyes. Such a plea from the captain sobered him. He’d worked with Captain Fairfield these past several years, and the man never showed any trepidation. His current fear spoke to the depth of danger they were in.
Will hadn’t ever relied on God. God had never seemed to answer Him. So he wasn’t sure God would help them through yet another storm. Jack’s thoughts of their passengers being a Jonah ran through his mind. They might be cast into the belly of the deep never to return.
He couldn’t influence or persuade God, if such a being existed. But he could do his duty as the first mate. Ignoring the pain that throbbed in his arm, he pulled himself up the hatchway.
Chapter 19
March 18, 1854
25 days at sea
With a deafening roar, a giant wave crashed over the deck, the white foamy water washing Crenshaw across the deck on his side. The ship’s wheel spun wildly, and the entire vessel careened downward again. Shards of wood riddled the deck and sloppily stowed sails pooled with water as the ship was showered with wave after wave.
Though he hadn’t thought it possible, this storm was worse than all the others they’d had this journey. The captain had been utterly justified: It was the worst gale Will had ever seen.
With his good arm holding tight to the rigging and then the railing, Will reached the starboard rail just as Crenshaw was righting himself.
“I’m here to relieve you,” yelled Will breathlessly.
Crenshaw’s shoulder slumped at a strange angle, and as soon as he was standing, he grasped at it. “What,” he gasped through a haggard breath, “are you doing here?”
“My ship and my men need me. You look injured, Crenshaw. Go below deck.”
“But your arm—” Crenshaw croaked.
“A little salt water won’t hurt it overmuch. And your shoulder is just as bad, I daresay.”
Crenshaw glanced at his shoulder and winced.
“The doctor can reset it,” Will said. “Get to the sick bay and I’ll hold the deck.”
Will had never seen his mate so utterly beat, and Crenshaw did not brook any argument. Will walked toward the helm as the boat swayed, a huge wave of water rolling across the forecastle. Crenshaw steadied himself, and then when near the hatch, he managed to catch the ladder with one foot and thenanother, favoring his good arm. Will took firm hold of the wheel just before another wave hit the deck.
He knew the sea well enough to read her. Every additional swell pitched the boat anew, falling at angles that threatened a complete capsize. Like the captain had said, Will wasn’t sure how long theWindermerecould last against such terrors of nature.
Up at the forecastle, Mr. Haddock and the group of men on duty were busy dismantling some of the yardarms. Will knew what they were doing would help keep the ship from going under, but it meant here at the back of the ship, he was on his own.
With his good arm, he clung to the wheel. He tried to ignore the way his wound smarted as the seawater sprayed him. He was grateful his legs weren’t injured as he tried to maintain his stance.
