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waves of the Lantic. One burst was so close that Ryan felt his hair stand on
end, and his skin tingled with the static electricity all about. The sun had
disappeared, and it was pitch-dark, so that Ryan could barely even make out
the tiny rectangle of the deck as it rolled far beneath him.
Blinking rain from his eye, feeling it running bitter and salty into the other
socket,
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Ryan could just make out the stumpy figure of Pyra Quadde, stalking about the
deck, bellowing out orders to her crew.
The mast was swinging so far that it was like being attached to a wild
pendulum that threatened to throw the men far off into the sea at the end of
each savage roll.
Ryan couldn't believe the casual skill that the crew of the
Salvation showed, moving across the rigging like ants on a peach tree, never
losing a foothold, taking in the sail in armfuls of stubborn canvas. Farther
along the spar he could see the skeletal figure of Donfil, arms and legs
tangled in the ropes, eyes wide with fear, jaws clamped tight, After what
seemed a thousand years of screaming wind, blackness and stark white light, it
was done. Ogg and Walsh called the men down off the frail spars to the sold
deck, Walsh speeding the tardy with curses and his rope's end, Ogg, with his
deceptively gentle words of encouragement.
While they waited, huddled together and soaking wet, the crew exchanged jokes.
Ryan found himself standing between the shivering Donfil and the sailor whom
he'd saved from a watery grave.
"Name's Johnny Flynn, outlander. Thou hast me hand an' me heart for that deed
o'
goodness."
The hand was offered and shaken surreptitiously in the darkness. Flynn was a
short man, barely five foot six. His face had an alert, foxy brightness, his
smile marred only by a total lack of teeth.
"Do the same for any man," Ryan responded, careful to speak out of the corner
of his mouth, so as not to draw attention to himself.
"I'd have been fine and dandy but I broke this shifting barrels yesterday
forenoon."
He raised the middle finger of his left hand, the joint swollen and purple,
the nail crusted with dried blood.
"Why not tell one of the mates?"
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Johnny Flynn laughed bitterly. "Sure can tell thou'rt not from these parts.
There's good and plenty jack to be made with Captain Quadde. Long as thou dost
not rock the boat with her."
"But your finger& "
"It'll mend. My Sara and the wee ones can't eat stones and air, outlander. I
lose this post, and there's a dozen wharf rats waiting to take me place. No.
Long as skipper doesn't spot it for a few days I'll manage fine. I'd hoped
we'd not be aloft so soon to test it. If she& " His voice faded as Pyra Quadde
strode out from the aft companionway, standing with legs apart, braced against
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the roll of the ship, eyes raking the assembled crew.
"What would she have done?" Ryan whispered.
Flynn touched his finger to his lips. "Don't let her see thee blabber. First
couple of days of voyage are worst. Hasn't had it in a long time. Restless and
mean. Looks for a man she can& "
The wind whipped away the rest of the words. Since Flynn's lips hardly moved
as he spoke, Ryan couldn't even be sure that there'd been any other words. But
Pyra
Quadde's words came ringing clear enough above the storm.
"Slow, ye salt-ducking dogs of yellow-hearted bastards. I'd have done better
to get a dozen deaf and dumb pot girls from the taverns of Claggartville!
Better babes in arms than ye sluggard crew of cockless bastards! Ye're fit
only to lick out the gaudy privies, aren't ye?"
There was a high-pitched giggle from Ryan's right, where he saw the tall
figure of crazed Jehu. Water streamed off his tiny cannonball of a head,
running into his slack lips. "Good, Captain!" he squawked. "Better'n the
traveling quack show!
Give us more oft!"
"Shut the dullard up," the woman called, but there was no anger in her voice.
The men on either side of Jehu nudged him in the ribs, and he closed his mouth
again.
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"I'll say no more," Captain Quadde continued. "Next time aloft and ye'll be
kissing the whip. Or I'll find ye all better to kiss than that."
Cyrus Ogg took a hesitant step forward, raising a hand to attract her
attention. She beckoned him to her and he stood close, whispering in her ear.
She listened to him, face showing no emotion, though her eyes roamed along the
line of men until they settled on Ryan Cawdor, where they stayed while the
first mate continued talking to her.
"Someone's for it," Flynn hissed. Standing close to the sailor, Ryan could
feel his body begin to tremble.
Ryan didn't dare to reply, with the woman's piggy eyes staring at him. Ogg [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]