With that, Martin headed back up to the deck. The blast of wind and rain from the storm hit him as soon as his head rose above the hatch. Ulf stood steady at the tiller, keeping the ship turned into the waves. Only the flexing of his muscles spoke to the effort it must have taken to keep the ship under control.
Halfred stood on the forecastle, clutching the railing tightly for balance, and he bellowed, ordering Cian and Wymond below. Martin climbed the ladder to join him.
“Report.”
“I think we’re through the worst of it, my lord.”
Martin liked to think he could read the weather as well as any man, but Halfred seemed to have a sixth sense about it. “I pray it is so. The ship can’t take much more of this.”
“The Wind Songis stronger than you think, my lord. She’ll pull through. How’s Pascal?”
Martin let out a long slow breath, saying a silent prayer. “Unconscious.”
Halfred nodded grimly. “Only time will tell. It was a damned fool thing you did rescuing him, if I may say so, my lord.”
“I’d never let any of you die that way. Not if I had the strength to save you.”
Halfred chuckled. “You have a lot of your father in you, you know. He never knew when to back down either.”
The mention of his father pierced his heart like a dagger. His loss was still too fresh. It had been a year since Lord Gilbert had passed, but not a day went by that Martin didn’t mourn his absence. It pained him deeply that the man didn’t live to meet Isabella. His father would have liked her. And despite her disdain for barons, she would have liked him because everyone liked his father.
In the distance, Martin caught sight of a patch of stars. Though the wind continued to lash them, and waves crashed against them, the end was in sight. If they could just hold on a little bit longer, they would sail out the other side.
“The storm is breaking up ahead. I see a patch of clear sky.” Martin pointed.
Halfred sheltered his eyes with his hand. “So there is, my lord. You’d better speak to Ulf and adjust our course.”
Thunder cracked and lightning sizzled as Martin made his way to the other end of the ship.Too close!If it got any closer, it would have hit the mast. Hanging onto the slippery railing with an iron grip, he traversed the remaining distance to the tiller as quickly as he dared.
Ulf stood like a statue with eyes glued to the horizon ahead. The only sign of strain was the white knuckled grip of his hand on the enormous spar of wood that steered the ship.
“I saw a patch of clear skies over yonder,” Martin said, pointing.
“I saw it too,” Ulf said, turning his steely gaze to follow Martin’s hand. “But we’re far from safe yet. That lightning struck too close for comfort.”
“So it did.”
As if summoned by their words, thunder boomed, and a sizzling bolt of light spiked down and struck the mast. The entire beam glowed white hot. Then an explosion of splinters went flying as a flaming crow’s nest came crashing down to the deck. The top of the mast had split as if cut by an axe, and flames engulfed it. The blaze licked dangerously close to the sail.
Martin stopped breathing as he looked on in horror. If the sail caught fire, they would be dead in the water with no way to reach the shore. And that was if they were lucky, and the fire didn’t spread and engulf the entire ship.
Somehow, he had to put out the flames. How could he stop the spread? Here they were surrounded by water, and yet he could not think of a way to get it where it was most needed.
But his bride and her sister were on board this ship. He’d promised Isabella they would be safe with him, and he could not let them perish. Grabbing a length of rope, he ran for the mast and began to climb the rope ladder that barely held as flames licked at the top.
“No, my lord,” Halfred yelled, running toward him across the slippery deck.
“I must,” he yelled back down. “Fill a bucket with water and tie it to the end of this rope.” Martin held out the end of the rope he’d grabbed and gave it a shake, then continued to climb. The ship swayed around him as the ship bobbed in the heavy surf, but he held tightly to the ropes and continued to climb.
There was a snap, and the rope holding one side of the ladder gave way. The fire had burned through it. He didn’t have much time before the fire would burn through the rest. Fortunately, he was close to the mast. Easing himself off the ropes, he grasped the wooden beam and lashed himself to it with one end of the rope he carried up, wrapping his legs around it. No sooner had he done so than the other side of the rope ladder gave way. The taut web slackened and fell to the deck.
He had to keep the fire from reaching the ropes that held the spar for the sail in place or they were all done for.
“Bucket,” Halfred bellowed from the deck below, pointing to a full bucket of water that was lashed to the other end of his rope. Martin began to pull it up, letting go of the mast so that the rope he’d tied around himself held his weight. Hand over hand, he brought up the precious water he needed to douse the flames. His muscles ached as he reached for it and threw it at the flames above him. The fire retreated a few inches, the charred wood hissing and sizzling in its wake.
“Again,” he yelled down, lowering the empty bucket.
Halfred ran to fill it, as Martin rocked with the boat, high above the waves. On the deck below, there was movement. Someone was climbing out of the hatch.Dear God. No! It couldn’t be! How could she risk herself like this?
