“What am I looking for?”
“Whitewater, or swirling water in troughs behind the waves. Darker patches that don’t move are sometimes rocks right below the surface, too. Anything that doesn’t look like the water out here is dangerous. Point the way around it. We’ll try to run up on the beach and get away on foot.”
Gareth scrambled to the leather bag with the egg. It was still braced under the seat. He slipped the strap over his shoulder and moved carefully across the rolling deck to the front of the boat. Where the bow narrowed to a point, he found a small platform large enough to stand on. His left hand grasped a rope that went from the peak of the bow to the top of the mast.
Ahead lay dull green water, churned and dirty. Seagrasses, leaves, sticks, and logs floated. He ignored them. From further ahead came the repetitive booming of waves crashing upon the rocky shore. Between the shore and boat were, at least, a dozen patches of white water, some with black rocks protruding above the surface. He glanced at their wake, and turned to project their course ahead and found they were now heading for the area with the most white water. He darted back to Tom at the tiller and pointed. “Lots of white water directly ahead.”
“I see it.”
“If we turn to the right we can avoid it.”
Tom grinned. “Right you are. But we’re not. At least not yet. That boat behind us is closing fast, but she’s comin’ from port and trying to get ahead and cut us off. We’ll move in to pass close by those rocks, but we’ll have enough water under us. She’ll try, too. The current and wind will carry us beside the rocks, I’m thinkin’. From their angle, they can’t make the turn.”
“You’re setting a trap.”
“One no real sailor would fall for.”
“Will it work?”
“We’ll see. Now you get back up there in the bow, and when I make my turn, you keep a good watch. If you feel us run up on rocks, you jump into the water feet first, hear me? Probably break your head open on a submerged rock if you dive.”
“We’re not going to hit the rocks, are we?”
“Goin to be close. Still, that’s better than being taken by those on the other boat.”
They must be bad if you’re going to sink your boat instead of being captured. “Are you jumping too?”
“I figure to hit the water before you, son. Don’t want to be near a boat breaking up in waters like these. Too much chance of takin’ a hit on the head or getting fouled in ropes and such, and being pulled down. Get off her as best you can, swim away, and meet me ashore. See that little finger of land jutting out over there?” He pointed.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” Gareth flashed a smile intended to show confidence, which failed, then went back to the bow and watched the turbulent water ahead, as well as keeping an eye on the boat following. The white boat was much faster and now close enough to see several men moving around the deck. A flash of sunlight glinted near a man’s hand and told of a knife or sword pulled from a scabbard. Gareth turned to watch ahead again, but his eyes were drawn to the other boat time after time.
The men aboard wore colorful clothing and called out taunts to them, but the wind whipped away their words. At least, six crowded near the bow, looking fierce and waving swords over their heads. It pulled closer and closer, but Gareth forced his eyes from them and to the water ahead. He pointed for Tom to steer around a swirling mass of white water, where rocks appeared in the troughs between waves. The fishing boat turned and headed for the green water.
The boat responded in time to pass the rocks, but so close Gareth could clearly see the small shellfish attached to them. The rocks were dark gray, almost black, with tips jutting above the water that couldn’t possibly be as sharp as they appeared.
Another glance behind found Tom intently watching the water ahead, too. Behind him, the white boat had closed the gap between them further, and now Gareth saw light glint off more than one sword, and the fearsome faces they made as they screamed insults. Other men shouted, and he could now hear individual voices. He considered pulling his knife and waving it back at them in defiance, but with the boat rolling, rocking, and twisting he needed both hands to hold on. Besides, it was probably a bad idea because if they caught up, the punishment would be worse.
CHAPTER NINE
The wind and waves no longer whipped the angry shouts away as Gareth now heard the words, the taunts and threats, and they scared him. In all his time in Dun Mare, he had never heard adults making such threats. Many seemed physically impossible to perform. Tom ignored everything called to him and held their course as steady as if he was setting his fishing nets in an empty ocean.
Two large patches of swirling white foam lay directly ahead, separated by a wide expanse of deep green. Gareth’s imagination formed a picture of two masses of rock rising from the ocean bottom, a deep channel between. As he watched, Tom steered directly for the white foam churning the water on the right, but the tide and wind gently shoved the boat to the left, right into the channel.
The other boat continued gaining. Up close, the hull gleamed white, as did the sails. The deck stood higher than his head. The mast held, at least, ten times the canvas of the small fishing boat. Eight men dressed in a variety of colorful, baggy clothing stood at the bow rails, weapons ready, most still shouting insults, although a few looked concerned. A few exchanged greedy looks. As they safely passed exposed rocks, all wore smiles.
Gareth realized they saw gold and silver when looking at him. He understood and heard all of that in an instant, but his mind noted again that the boat was not sailing directly at them. It still came at an angle intending to move ahead of Tom’s boat and prevent the fishing boat from reaching the shore. In calm, deeper water it would have worked. Gareth spun and found two more masses of breaking water directly ahead, and then he watched for a channel to pass. There was none. His mind projected the course of the other boat. It pointed between the two areas of danger. But the wind and tide would push it to the left as it did the fishing boat.
He looked at Tom.
Tom watched also, then turned back and caught his eye, and nodded. He flashed a toothy grin and wiped the hair from in front of his forehead with the back of his arm.
More shouts, taunts, and crude insults flew their way. Gareth clutched the egg bag and waited. The strap felt secure over his shoulder. Suddenly a patch of darker water directly in front of them drew his attention to an underwater rock he had not noticed. He yelled, waved, and pointed, drawing Tom’s attention. Tom swung the tiller over, and the boat abruptly turned, but not fast enough. Gareth waved frantically and pointed for more turn. Tom swung the bow hard over, using the sail to help as Gareth watched the darker water that hid rocks just under the surface pass close to their left. He stood taller and made sure the way ahead was clear. They had made it.
Gareth watched the other boat right behind them. It would pass right over the same spot where they had been a minute earlier. He waited. Nothing happened. The white boat had also avoided the danger.
He turned his attention to the water ahead, disappointed that the white boat had made it through the second trap Tom had set.
“Hold on tight!” Tom called, as he put the tiller all the way over to the other side. The boat heeled as Tom fought for control in the roiling water.
The boat twisted and surged ahead, nearly running up on newly exposed rocks, but Gareth remained at his post, pointing and directing Tom. A thunderous crash came from behind. Gareth turned around in time to see the huge white boat leaning far over to one side, the mast broken off, and the sail falling. It hadn’t missed the submerged rocks, after all. A grinding told of the hull ripping itself apart. Men had been thrown overboard and now fought to swim in the churning water. Others, still on board, shouted orders. A few screamed in terror.