High druid of Shannara_ Jarka Ruus - Terry Brooks [90]
Pen grinned. “I like this ship. I’ve never flown one, but I’ve seen them and I know how they’re made. This one is made to fly fast. Have you run out the string on her?”
Hatch roared. “That’s the lad! Ask what matters, and no beating around the main mast! Sure, I’ve had her thrusters all the way open, and let me tell you, Penderrin, she can fly faster than fast! Nothing alive can catch her, save for the big birds off the coast, and they might have to work some to do it. She’s a glutton for speed, this one. You’re right, though. I gave her all her curves, all her smooth limbs and soft lines. She’s my lady, she is.”
He paused. “You’ve never flown a sloop, did you say? Lad, that’s unconscionable! Do you want to try now?”
Pen could hardly contain his excitement. “You’d let me?”
“A sailor like yourself, born to the air?” Hatch leaned forward, his fish breath in Pen’s face. “Take the helm, Captain Pen.”
Despite Ahren Elessedil’s warnings about the big man, Pen was desperate to fly the sloop, so he put aside his misgivings. It wouldn’t hurt to accept the offer, he told himself. He was just going to test his skills a bit, try out the controls, and see if he could manage the vessel. He had flown other airships of the same sort, some much bigger. Skatelow couldn’t be that much more difficult.
Gar Hatch backed away, and Pen stepped up to the helm. He glanced down quickly, noting thrusters, lifts, banking levers, and the like, all familiar to him, though located in somewhat different positions than he was used to. The compass was set dead center above the half wheel that managed the keel rudder.
“There you be, young Pen,” the Rover Captain declared cheerfully. “A fine and proper set of controls for a fine and proper young sailor. Give her a try, lad.”
Pen did so, easing into things slowly, carefully, setting trim before taking the airship a little higher with the lifts. She nosed upward, but he felt the tension in her hull, then a slight shaking. He frowned as he worked to steady her. It wasn’t as easy as he had thought. Everything was the same, but the sloop’s responses were less certain than he would have liked. He adjusted the thrusters and felt her shake some more. An effort at resetting trim proved unsuccessful. He eased the power back, glancing over at Gar Hatch.
The Rover’s sharp eyes were glittering. “Not so easy as it looks, is it?” he asked, and Pen could see he wasn’t expecting an argument. “Flying a sloop is not the same as flying a cat-28 or even a warship with pontoons and rams for stability. A sloop needs tender loving care from a master who knows her needs.”
He smiled, but even through the heavy growth of beard Pen could see the teeth behind. He realized with a sinking feeling that Hatch had been testing him. Knowing how difficult it would be for someone unfamiliar with the sloop to sail her, he had enticed Pen into trying so that he could judge the boy’s skills. The Rover was one step ahead of Ahren Elessedil; he knew that Pen had been asked to check up on him, even without having been present at the conversation. Now he had Pen’s measure, and the boy had helped him take it.
Gar Hatch stepped forward and took back the ship’s controls, easing Pen out of the way without seeming to do so.
“You keep in mind, Penderrin,” he said softly, looking over at the boy as he steadied the vessel anew, “that there’s only one Captain on this ship. Do that and we’ll get along fine. Now out of the box you go. Back down on the deck with the others. That’s a good lad.”
Pen left without a word, burning with frustration and shame, so furious with himself that he could have spit. But there was no help for it, and he refused to give Garth Hatch the satisfaction of seeing him react. Fighting to control himself, he stood alone at the starboard rail, his gaze directed resolutely forward even though he