Master and Fool by J. V. Jones

Author:J. V. Jones [Jones, J. V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-08-14T13:08:00+00:00

Another wave hit. Tawl's left side was blasted by the surge. Water skimmed across the main and foredecks. Having secured the hatch, Jack made his way forward. Tawl was surprised at how well he moved. The deck was running with saltwater and the ship rocked like a pendulum, yet Jack's footing was sure. The rain was coming in heavy white sheets now, and Tawl couldn't make out Jack's expression until they were an arm's-length apart.

Jack gripped the rail. His eyes were dark. A muscle in his neck beat a pulse.

The crew darted about them, fastening lines, sweeping the decks, drawing in the rigging. There were two pairs of hands on the wheel now: Fyler's and the captain's. Tawl didn't know much about sailing, but he had a feeling that the only thing steering the ship was the storm.

More lightning. Thunder right behind it.

Tawl got a clear look at Jack's face. What he saw scared him. The boy's lips were drawn to a thin line. His eyes were blank. He seemed to be looking through the storm, not at it.

"Captain, the swell's rising fast. It'll match the hull before we know it."

Carver dashed past them to the wheel. Jack followed him. Tawl was reluctant to leave the railing, but he knew something was wrong with Jack and he had to find out what. His hands were numb with cold. He pried them free from the railing and followed Jack to the wheel. The deck was as slick as a frozen pond. Tawl skidded with every step. The rain beat him back. Waves hit from all sides. There was a powerful gust of wind and then Tawl heard something crack.

"Whoa! Watch out!"

Instinct more than sense made Tawl leap to the side. He dived for the railings and hit an oncoming wave full-on. Water smashed against him. It was in his eyes, his nose, his throat. He couldn't breathe. A high, creaking sound split through the air. The ship rolled sharply to port. Tawl was forced to hold on to the railings with all his might to stop himself from rolling with it.

Crack!

With sea salt stinging in his eyes, Tawl watched as the aftermast crashed to the deck like a felled tree. It went smashing into the port railings, crushing them like tinderwood.

"Cut the rigging!" cried the captain.

The cables attached to the aftermast were pulling against the mainmast. The huge central mast was listing to the port. Tawl could hear the beam creaking with strain.

Carver dashed forward, knife in hand. Tawl felt for his own knife. He was up before he knew it. As soon as his left foot hit the deck, pain coursed up his ankle. He ignored it. He had no choice. The winds were high and the mainmast was listing, ready to crack. If that fell, the entire ship would go down with it.

Tawl scrambled toward the fallen aftermast. The rigging ropes were wrist-thick.

They were so taut they hummed in the wind like the strings of a bow. Carver and two other crewmen were busy hacking.

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