King of the Sea

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Faculties within him that persisted through his slumbers told him phoenix had not tacked for an hour or more. Her slight but steady list to port said she was running before a half-gale, fine on her starboard quarter. Not much for the watch to do but show as much canvas as she'd bear and, keeping all yards braced round, hold the tension in her sheets within limits. "Farming," as they called it. Must be close to the upper limit now, he thought. Every time she checked at the foot of an adverse swell, he could hear her masts groan at the strain. Four bells rang. But which watch? He reached for his chronometer, in tending to carry it to the moonbeam at the porthole, when he heard McLennan, the First Mate, cry, "Haul up the mains'l weather clew!"

Six o'clock, then. Dawn soon enough and the wind obviously getting up. He should do the same. Little point in trying to snatch another half-hour.

He rose, shaved in ice-cold water, and dressed, wincing as the imperfectly removed stubble on his adam's apple grated against the stiffly starched collar. The glass stood at thirty-two inches - nothing omi nous for the time of year, except that yesterday it had stood at thirty-three.

"Morning Number Two," he grunted as he went on deck.

"Morning Cap'n. All's well." Feehan, the Second Officer, moved to the starboard rail. Like many new ships of that time, the phoenix was commanded not from the quarterdeck (except in harbour) but from a bridge, amidships.

Troy noted with approval that all topsails and t'gallants were already taken in; he put his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon. The sky, though cloudless above, was ominous on the port bow; there a huge black hole in the sky was just starting to swallow the setting moon.

It looked as if they might be heading just north of a big one which the strengthening wind confirmed. The only other vessel in sight was a steamship, a huge merchantman of about five thousand tons, hull down on the starboard quarter. A heartening vision, with a sky like that coming up.

He lowered his binoculars and went down the companionway to the foredeck; as he made his way forr' ard he checked the occasional wedge in the cleats on the hatch combings. None was loose, of course; if it had been, the cook would already be frying some one's liver for breakfast. Troy used the heads and then went up to the "policeman" on the fo'c'sle deck.

"Davidson, isn't it?" he said, knowing very well that it was. "How long have we had her for com pany?" He nodded toward the merchantman astern, now visible only by her smoke.

"We picked her up just after one bell on this watch, Cap'n. Then she was a few points to starboard." He gestured almost dead ahead.

"So we've gained about sixteen miles on her in ninety minutes, even with the wind behind her. We must be moving." He peered over the rail, but with a following wind and the sea running with her, phoenix seemed to plough no more than an average furrow. "Tis a contrairy sea, Cap'n," Davidson volunteer

ed. "There's a rising swell forward of her port beam."

"Not on her port bow?" Troy asked sharply.

The man shook his head and sucked a tooth. The difference was important for it revealed that the centre of this storm was still a long way off. "There's one now," the man warned. His eyes, long adapted to the dark, picked out the black-on-black trough and near-black-on-black flank of a vast swell, about half a mile off on the port beam. "We had another like that just before four bells," he added.

Troy knew then what had awakened him early. They stood and watched, powerless, as that mighty wall of ocean continued its remorseless advance to ward them. No, not toward them, not toward any thing in particular. That was what made it so awe some: It did not even acknowledge their existence. It would roll thus across the face of the deep whether they were there or not. It turned their very being into an irrelevance.

The long toe of it got in under their keel and began to lift her while the crest was still so far off it was only just beginning to form a new horizon. The two men held their breath; Troy's gloved fingers tightened on the rail as phoenix rose and rose, and incredibly - continued rising as the long wedge slid beneath her. The very length of it was a relief in one way, for, like its direction, it implied that the storm centre was still far off; but in another way it was the most ominous sign yet, for it confirmed this particular storm as one of Atlantic proportions, which made terms like "far" and "near" seem quite meaningless in the long run. Wherever you might seek to hide between the Aran Islands and Cape Cod, this one would find you out.

When the crest of it reached them he looked ner vously up and watched the masts go racing north ward across the sky, shrieking their protest as they dipped. The sails, though braced right up to the weather, shivered as the sudden motion spilled their contents which was as well, he reflected, for he could hardly believe that masts so slender could withstand both forces at once. The vessel herself checked and shuddered as the oblique crest of the wave took her aback; the canvas barely had time to fill before they were falling down the back of the swell and the masts raced once more across the dawning sky, this time to the south. There was a long moment of contradiction as the running sea and the afterswell contended for her keel.

"Mr Feehan," Troy called across the space of the foredeck. "Turn out the forenoon watch. Set by the wind. Reef all courses. Close-reef main-tops'ls, fore stay-s'l, and mizzen-try-s'l. Prepare life lines."

"Aye aye Cap'n!" came the reply. A few minutes later the decks were swarming with both watches as they jumped to reduce her head of sail. Not a single man needed to set foot to a single ratline; it was all done from the deck, in half the time and ten times the safety of the old way.

The Bosun was waiting for Troy at the foot of the forward companionway. "Three good men and the carpenter to inspect the battens," the Captain told

him in passing. "Aye aye sir."

Troy was a few yards past the man when he heard him add, "You'd best stay below there, miss. This is no weather for a Christian."

He turned and saw the light of the man's lantern falling on her - Teresa O'Dee, as he now knew her to be called. A power he could not gainsay made him turn and say, "All right, Bosun, let her on deck. She won't be in the way there." He pointed to the space between the companionway and the scuppers, just forr'ard of the foremast shrouds.