Hours after darkness had fallen, the Crown approached the tip of Deer Sound in Orkney as the waves pounded the deck. The wind, usually from the west, now came from the arctic north, and with it the snow—not falling, but blowing in icy shards, coating every surface with slick slush that the men’s frozen hands could barely hold onto. Duncan held tight to the rigging as he worked his way to the hatch to go below the main deck.
CrownCountless times since they’d left nearly a fortnight ago, he had not been able to make sense of the captain’s choice of a northerly route in the midst of December. Why had they not headed south along England? The North Sea was rough even in milder months. In fair weather, the choppy water would have slowed their progress. Their provisions looked as though they mig
