Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [37]
“Are you sorry we came?” I asked.
She shook her head, but would say no more.
From time to time my sickness eased, but the slightest extra movement tumbled my guts. Having nothing better to do, I was content to watch the mariners at their tasks.
Now and again, one of them flung out chips of wood from the bow and observed them traverse the whole ship’s length. Using his fingers, the man counted the time it took for the bits to flow past the boat, after which he would call the numbers to the master. Other times he would heave a lump of lead—connected to a line—overboard, then haul it up and cry how far it had plunged before hitting bottom. Sometimes he even touched his tongue to the lead. When I asked why he did these things, he explained that the flow of the chips allowed him to know how fast they sailed. Thatdropping the lead revealed the water’s depth. As for the tasting, he had sailed the course so often his mariner’s tongue informed him over which deep-water sand they sailed. In combination, these things could tell him just where they were. I could only marvel at his cunning.
After more time passed, I forced myself to stand and look about. To my dismay I could see no more land—nothing but the heavy, empty sea.
“Where are we?” I asked in sudden dread.
The master, who found much amusement in my woeful state, looked up into the sky at the pale sun, and finally said, “Still afloat.”
I sat back down in haste. Would our voyage—I wondered with no small misery—consist of two days or twelve?
Though there was nothing I could see—or know—to the contrary, I presumed we sailed easterly along the English coast toward Dover. As we beat on, however, stiffer winds bore down with increasing force. The master steered the cog first this way, now that, till my head was as uncorked as my stomach. The ship, which had appeared so substantial when beached at Rye, now seemed little more than an insignificant twig, tossed carelessly by wayward winds and water.
Bear, having roused himself from his private gloom, worked with the mariners, heeding the increasingly insistent calls of the ship’s master to tend the great sail, or to help keep the rudder steady when the sea began to swell.
Troth kept mostly to herself, standing by the rail, continuing to gaze upon the encircling sea. Whether she was looking back toward England, or searching for the sea’s edge, I did not know. I was much too concerned with my tumbled guts to pay heed to anyone but myself. Thus does a large private misery make public compassion small.
Whether we made any progress I could not tell, not even if we reached Dover’s Head. My vague sensation was that we were being beaten back. With increasing frequency, the cog pitched and rocked. Waves began to break across the deck, soaking all, leaving us shuddering with the sopping cold, while sluicing away anything not tied down. The mariners struggled to keep knots taut.
In the lowering gloom, they hung three lit lamps: upon the mast, on the bow, on the stern. Even as they did, the winds grew stiffer. The sea rose. The waves lashed. The sky began to darken balefully. It took three men to hold the rudder. The master filled his commands with angry shouts and oaths, upbraiding the Devil while urging his men to tasks with a growing fury that filled me with rising apprehension.
I began to say my prayers in earnest.
Bear called to Troth, and the two of them sat by me, he in the middle.
The mariners huddled by the master, darting forward now and again to obey shouted commands.
“Does night always bring such storms at sea?” I asked.
“God’s breath, Crispin,” Bear exclaimed. “It’s not night yet. But when you travel by sea, storms are part of the journey. Know that God is in his heaven, and the master is at his helm. We can do no better than that. These storms don’t last long.”
Though he spoke with confidence, I knew I was frightened, not that I would admit to it.
Bear, as if knowing my mind, said, “No harm will come if we stay together.”
He extended his arms round Troth and me, and drew us closer. Somewhat comforted, I asked,