“The barometer"s falling fast.” Harry Young, mate of the three-masted barque Lady Luck, tapped the glass, swore softly, and checked the set of the sails.
Lady Luck,“Aye,” Captain Hobson glanced aft, where dark clouds piled up from the darkening horizon, and a greasy sheen tinted the sea. “We"re in for the very devil of a blow, I reckon, Mr Young.”
“Best get below, Mary.” Lounging by the rail, Jack Windrush had been listening to the conversation. “If the captain thinks there"s a storm coming, I don"t want you swept overboard.”
Mary smiled. “It"s not stormy yet, Jack. All we have is a fresh breeze.”
Jack grunted. “Aye, but a fresh breeze can soon turn into a howling gale.”
“If that happens,” Mary said, “I might go below.” She stepped along the deck with the wind whipping her long hair a
