Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [38]
“We had no choice,” he said.
“We’ll go back,” I said, much as I had to Troth.
“In truth,” said Bear, “a wise man has as many hopes as reasons.”
“We will” I insisted.
“God grant it,” he said, grim again.
26
AS THE SHIP continued to toss and roll, Bear left us to crawl about on all fours. Reaching the bow, he found a length of wet rope, dragged it back, and wrapped it round us and then to a rail. We were held fast.
“Why did you do that?” Troth asked.
“So we won’t be washed away,” Bear told her.
I looked at Troth. Her eyes were on some inner vision I could not fathom.
When I turned to the master, I saw that he too had lashed himself to the rudder pole.
As the turbulence grew greater, it became darker still. Such light as we had came from the three small lanterns and was hardly more than a blur, like memories of distant days.
The winds howled. The waves crashed. My soul felt naked. Then a damp mist fell heavily about us like wet wool only to transform itself to drizzle. I opened my mouth and sucked in the sweet water to cleanse my foul tongue. But all too soon the rain turned heavy, pelting the deck like some mad drummer’s call to arms. It seemed to compete with the ocean—as if to make of the air another sea. We could do naught but compress ourselves, trying, by being smaller, to hide from the storm’s assault.
Bursts of lightning tore through the dark with jagged clawlike streaks, followed by a thunderous rolling that made the skies tremble. The same flashing exposed the mariners’faces, making them look like pallid skulls.
In this hurly-burly void, the cog leaped and fell with ever-increasing frenzy, twisting and climbing, only to drop into what felt to be a void. Sometimes we canted so far over I thought we must capsize. Even when the ship righted herself, the sea flowed across the deck with abandon. The lantern lights spit and hissed. The wind cried mournfully, rising and falling like tormented souls bewailing their fate at being left to wallow in an endless sea.
At some point, I hardly knew when, the three lanterns were swallowed whole and with them went the last sparks of light—and so it seemed, any hope of life itself.
My heart hammered. My breath grew short. Our hair streamed. Our clothing clung to us like sopping winding sheets. Sure we were about to perish, I prayed incessantly, confessing to everything while vowing I would perform multitudes of holy penance—if only God would show His clemency. A crying Troth pressed herself against Bear’s chest. I clutched him too. Oh, vanity to think tears could be measured in such a storm!
As the storm rioted on, Bear held us tight. At one point he began to sing a raucous, vulgar soldier’s song that dared do battle with the weather.
Each moment I was sure the storm had reached its final fury. Each time it surpassed what came before. Once, in a blast of lightning, I saw the four mariners struggling with the rudder, their fear palpable. Bear squeezed us that much more tightly and roared on with his ferocious song.
“I want Aude!” I heard Troth cry aloud.
“I’m here, Troth!” cried Bear. “I’m here!”
Though I tried to keep my eyes closed, crackling lightning flashes caused me to blink them open. As the black night was torn asunder, I saw that our sail had split into several parts, and was now flapping like so many flags—each one an offer of surrender.
Then, midst the howling wind and drenching rains, came the cry: “Man over!”
I don’t know if any attempts to save the mariner were made. It seemed unlikely. But shortly after, as if a human sacrifice had been wanted and delivered bodily to the raging gods of storm, the weather began to subside. Though the winds roared on, the rain eased. The cog pitched less.
“Is the storm gone?” Troth cried.
“I pray so,” said Bear.
As if to provide a last salute, a final burst of booming lightning struck, and in that blast of brightness, I could see that there was no one at the rudder.
We were alone.
In utter darkness, as the rain continued to fall and the wind to blow, I sensed the cog was