Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Eight: Treacherous Waters

Sea gods, Anton puffs as water hits his face. He knows no gods but devils. And this monster of a storm out of nowhere is definitely the Devil's handiwork. His scowl deepens as he barks orders from the quarterdeck. "Batten the hatches!"

Finn is holding for his life on the rails.

The waves are running after them, chasing the stern of the ship. The Captain's hands glide the wheel over smoothly, "Lower, port!" he commands, as he steers hard to starboard. He grips the wheel tight. Only few minutes and he will drag the ship out of this nasty weather. His clothes are soaking wet, by now, but a quick scan of the deck and he is relieved. No man is getting washed away. "Furl sails, full ahead!"

"Full ahead!" echoes the chorus of the crew. Lightning strikes miles away. The Captain blinks, wiping saltwater from his face. The wheel gets harder to budge. He can feel the ship list to port, and can only pray the cargo are tied up well...If not-

They are dead.

"We are heeling! Go to the hold!" he screams to the dashing crew on the deck.

~*~

Eleanore and Victor are wading in the darkness of the lower deck, their hands on the walls. She is tumbling every now and then as a violent wave swells underneath them."We have to help-"

"I was in the hold half the time-" Victor stops and beams. "The hold! Nellie!"

"What?" she turns around, as they are halfway down the hallway leading to the stairs. Eleanore looks up and sees a white sheet of wind blow across the deck. "You have a plan-"

"Damn right I do." He grasps her hand and drags her down the hold.

~*~

The Captain never faced a more bitter storm in his entire life. He is digging his feet on the watery planks, the furious winds slapping his face. To hell with you, he huffs silently. Who could it be sending storms out of nowhere in the middle of the passage where waters should be quiet in this time of the year, but sinister forces?

And just as the Belladonna is racing to the calmer waters, lightning flashes before him. The Captain grips the helm tightly. Another flash. Another thunder-

A sail is torn, just above a sailor.

Winds blow from the west. The men scramble to hoist what was left of the sail struck at port side.

~*~

In the hold, Eleanore and Victor scramble with fellow drenched sailors to hold the cargo together in a balance. "For shite's sake!" a disgruntled voice says somewhere, "These ropes are useless!" And it is true. The ropes that had held all cargo before are snapped when the ship was hit by a powerful wave. Add to that they have not been re-positioned as the supplies were taken...making the vessel list on port side.

Victor is tying barrels of rum together with another man. He had instructed her before to stand by the stack of crates and this she does, her arms blocking them from tipping as the ship groans and another wave hits the hull hard. Eleanore strains to see in the dim light. A sailor waves for her. "Push two of them here!"

She nods, bending to push a crate to the other side of the ship. The sailor takes it from her and Eleanore scurries back to take another one. One is threatening to fall and so she secures it first, standing on her toes to push it firmly back as she tries to kick the crate by her foot to no avail.

The sailor sees this. He dashes back to his side, and emerges with a rope. "Step back." He takes care of the toppling crate and Eleanore proceeds to push the smaller one to the side where he came from. An awaiting sailor thanks her, and picks up the heavy box effortlessly, placing it above the others.