17. Water Way to Go #2
And then the world around us stills. There’s a phenomenon people talk about, the eye of the storm, when everything freezes, if only for a moment.
I certainly never thought I’d see one. The rain quiets, and when I glance up to the sky, there is a single opening of blue above us.
I hear the patter of the rain dripping down the mast, hear the creak of the ship as we drift.
But then the storm is back, harder and harsher than ever.
Wind and water thrash against me, and I grit my teeth and wrap my hands in the lines as one wave and then another crashes against us.
The ship teeters all the way to our left, and I stumble, certain we’ll capsize, but it rights itself with a creak of the wood beneath us and a flood of water over the deck.
It feels like we’re on the precipice of ruin.
My muscles relax, my hands loosening just as a second wave hits me in the face, and then I’m falling as the ship careens to my right.
I scramble for purchase, coughing and sputtering up seawater, but the deck is slick, and my hands and nails slip over everything as I fly through the air and sail past anyone who could help me.
The jackline tied securely around my waist catches me as I slide over the edge of the main deck and into one of the cannons below.
I hiss as the rope yanks at my side and digs into my flesh. I tug at it frantically as I flail in midair, searching for the knot to undo it with trembling hands. My gaze goes to the door leading to Silas’s cabin, and I wish I’d taken him up on his offer; I should have stayed in bed today.
But soon there’s a tug on my rope as someone pulls me upward. Using the last of my strength, I grip the upper deck and drag myself up and over, trudging through the water and back to my spot at the foremast with a gasp.
“Are you all right?” Hux asks.
I nod and reach for the lines once more.
And that’s when I hear it. There’s a crack, a deep, billowing sound from somewhere nearby. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I don’t want to look, but I can feel myself turning toward it all the same. I blink away the water, clenching my jaw as I squint up at the foremast.
There are people up there, holding on to it for dear life just moments after they’ve tied down the sails. But halfway up the mast, the wood splinters. Another crack and I can see the vein-like lines traveling down to its base.
“What do we do?” I scream.
If Hux can hear me, he shows no sign. His lips part as he takes in the mast and the crew scrambling to free themselves, but he makes no move to do anything, to say anything.
“Don’t move!” Mick calls.
One of the people hanging on to the mast scurries toward the deck. His foot slips partway down and he slams his head into the mast, falling back and swinging in the air, foot trapped in the rope of the foremast as another crack travels up the wood with terrifying speed.
“Help me!” someone else screams, but the mast creaks under the shifting weight.
“Don’t. Move!” Mick calls again as the others search frantically for a way down. Mick’s deep voice is assertive as he crosses toward Hux. There is anger in his features, hands fisting as he fights to control it. “Command your men,” he growls to Hux. “Or they’ll die.”
“You think I know what the fuck I’m doing?” the shorter man says. He points sharply to the mast, his other hand slacking on the lines. “I don’t fucking know how to do this.”
Mick grabs him by the shirt. “You think any of us do? You think any of us knew what the fuck we were doing when we stepped onto this ship and pledged our lives to Captain Night?”
“Mick!” I say, holding up my hands as if to help him.
“They’re dead already!” Hux screams.
And I hate to admit it, but he’s right; it’s too late.
The foremast snaps with a final, earsplitting crack, and we all turn slowly toward it.
Dread settles in my gut as the foremast bends sideways and snaps off, taking the man who’d hit his head with it.
It feels like I’m watching a scene from a movie, everything moving in slow motion even as the wind and water lash at my face and hands.
The second man who screamed drops. He falls too slowly, slow enough that I wonder if we could have saved him, but then he slams into the rail with a crack before flipping over the side and into the water.
The others on top of the mast hang on for dear life as they ride it down.
Their legs and arms tighten around the wood.
They do not have time to cut themselves loose, but two of them are frantically sawing at their tethers with knives, looking from the rope to the mast and back as it goes flying through the air.
The two who’ve been hanging on to the lower sail appear unscathed as the last of their rope snaps free, but three others who’ve been at the top slip into the water.
Multiple people scramble forward, cutting lines to free us from the foremast before it can drag us down.
It falls into the waves; gone in an instant.
In just a handful of seconds, we’ve lost five people. Gone, in the blink of an eye.
And then the rope in my hand tugs. My gaze snaps to my right, where Hux stands with his feet planted, teeth gritted.
And we fight against it together even though there’s no stopping it.
It cuts against my palms and tugs me forward, and there’s nothing to hold on to as the foremast threatens to drown me.
“Laszlo!” I know it’s Silas’s voice; despite the song of the wind and the roar of the storm, I know.
I try to undo the knot with shaking fingers as my legs search for purchase. Cursing, I slip over the main deck and onto the deck below as the foremast tugs me across the ship. The rope is tangled in my belt, and I scramble for a knife or a sharp edge to cut myself free.
“Silas!”
A sob rips out of my chest as I’m yanked rapidly across the ship toward the other side.
I have seconds, maybe, before I’m pulled over.
Gone. Dead. God, of all the ways I could have died aboard this ship, this is not the one I imagined for myself.
Years of fearing the ocean, of being terrified of drowning, and this is how I’ll go.
But someone grabs on to my flailing hand and tightens their grip as another person slices the rope. I feel instant relief as the rope falls away and slithers over the deck into the water. Sighing, I fall back to the deck, staring up into a stormy sky as rain pelts me.
Silas leans over me. His dark hair is plastered to his skin, his eyes wide as he leans down and cups my face, his features twisted with concern.
“Are you all right?” he asks, skimming his fingers over my cheek.
Some of the crew must be looking on, but he doesn’t seem to care what they see, if they know about us.
He’s braver than I ever could be, freer in life and love than I felt in my time.
I take his hand and sit up. The water is inches deep here now, and I slip again as I make to stand, Silas’s strong hands holding me steady.
“Yes,” I say as I reach for him. “Thank you.” I want to kiss him, but the pain in his face tells me now is not the time, not when he’s lost some of his crew, when there is still more of this storm to come.
He smiles weakly. “Always.”
Something knocks against his boot, and he bends down to pick up my little blue journal, confused. He holds it out to me, a question in his gaze, but there’s no time. I snatch the water-logged journal back and shove it into my pocket.
Silas turns and crosses the deck without another word, stopping to help our crewmates as needed. Wiping rain from my face, I trudge through the ankle-deep water to aid Mick across the deck.
This storm isn’t over just yet.