As Christophe huddled in the darkness beside Petite Callipe, it almost seemed that Abigail had singled out Calliope for her full fury. The wind shrieked through the rigging and the rain lashed down in torrents. But even above the din, he could still hear Derrick shouting orders to the crew and, beneath his feet, feel the vibration of the ship’s main engines, idling impatiently, as if anxious to head to open water.
Petite CallipeCalliopeChristophe had managed to remain hidden while the crew did their final preparations prior to weighing anchor. They had checked the equipment and the fittings, making sure that all was secure. By the time they had finished, and Christophe was finally alone on the aft deck, it was much later than he had planned. If he didn’t act now, it would be too late.
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