Polaris by Michael Northrop

Author:Michael Northrop
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

The gust had come from out of a blue sky and vanished into a graying one. As the wind relented, the ship righted herself. But as it rolled back to something like level, the waves slapping against her hull were already growing.

“It’s coming up fast!” Owen called from the wheel. “We can ride its edge, stay ahead of it!”

And for a while, it worked. The wind increased steadily, with only occasional gusts, and none like the sudden wallop that had nearly swamped them. Emma held on tight to the rail and took in the state of things. The hatches were battened down and then some, and they’d covered the gratings. The mainmast was missing its big mainsail, but the trysail was puffed out aft and the foremast was wearing plenty of canvas. The sailcloth was quickly soaked, turning a darker gray as the sky soured above them and the rain began to pore down in buckets. But wet sails hauled wind well, and if nothing else cracked or split, she thought they might just be able to stay ahead of the worst of it until the storm blew itself out or passed them by.

“We’re going to make it!” she shouted through the whistling wind to her sister, just feet away. She smiled crazily at the simple thought of survival.

But her sister was not smiling back. She was looking straight ahead.

Emma whipped her head around. “Oh no,” she murmured, her words eaten alive by the wind.

What she saw was the big ship sliding down the back of a long swell. “Hold on!” she yelled, and not just to her sister this time.

The bow slammed hard into the waiting sea, punching through like a spoon into soup. Emma felt her head whipped forward. A moment later, a wave of seawater flooded across the deck as the ship rose back up on the face of the next swell. But it didn’t rise as high as it had before, and when it slid down the back of it, it dove even deeper. Emma watched in both horror and recognition as the long bowsprit at the front of the boat harpooned the water.

As the boat rose again, it brought with it a heavy load of seawater that rolled down the deck in a great frothy wave.

And again the boat rose up only to be driven down.

And again.

And again.

And each time, it rose up less and was driven down more.

Grasping the rail with sore, wet hands as another wave threatened to carry her away, Emma stared up at the sails once more, and this time she saw the problem. The topmost royals had already been reefed, but it wasn’t enough. They were still wearing too much sail—and in the wrong places. “It’s burying us!” she called back to Owen. “It’s driving us under!”

But Owen was being tossed around by the wheel like a rag doll. It was all he could do to try to keep hold of the thing and keep the ship pointed forward. If they turned crossways to these seas, they would be finished.

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