“I wish they would now,” Rachel moaned. “I don’t think I want to even be in the same room with food.”
“Head to the center of the boat,” Herzer said.
“Ship, Lieutenant,” the commander corrected. “The Richard is a ship, not a boat.”
“Sorry, head to the center of the ship,” Herzer said. “The ride’s smoother there.”
“For now,” Mbeki said. “And it will still be smoother than your cabin. But… have you looked outside?”
“No,” Herzer said. “Why?”
“Bit of a blow coming I think. There’s a hoary old adage that an Indian summer will be followed by the worst blow of the season. Didn’t really hold true with Mother controlling the weather, but I think the conditions might have reestablished themselves. The sky is quite black to the west.”
“Oh,” Edmund said. “Great.”
“Actually, it might be,” the commander said. “We won’t be working the wyverns, not that they’re up to it from what I’ve been told. But it will give us a fair turn of speed south. Assuming we can keep this tub upright; the way the sails are rigged will make fighting our way through a storm… interesting.”
“Is there any good news?” Herzer asked.
“Well, I hear that the ship’s betting pool has it three to one that you won’t dump your dragon the first time you try to land,” the commander said with a grin.
“Joy.”
The storm hit just after noon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Herzer had heard the call of “All Hands! Shorten sail” and had made his way up to the deck to observe. The sailors were already aloft doing their high-wire act by the time he got on deck and he watched it again, in awe. To work with the sails required them to first climb to nearly the top of the mast and then work their way out on thin foot-ropes. All of this while he was having a hard time standing upright. He did notice, this time, that they were all wearing some sort of harness attached to a safety rope. If one of them slipped the harness would, presumably, keep them from falling to their deaths.
He’d noticed a lot of little touches like that on the ship. Danger areas marked off with yellow and black paint. Notices pasted up where hazardous materials were stored. Warnings about lifting heavy weights. The ship matched some of his expectations and violated others. He had read stories from the old sailing days and back then injuries and death were considered just the common lot of the sailor, like bad food, hammocks and no decent bathroom.
This ship had showers, even for the crew, functional toilets and sinks. The crew berthed in cots, albeit ones that were stacked four high. The food was well prepared and as varied as any that he had seen in the post-Fall period. They lived, come to think of it, better than Courtney and Mike. Better than Blood Lords on campaign.
But when he watched them shimmying on those ropes he had to admit that they deserved their improved conditions.
The first real blast of wind hit as the last of the crew were descending from the rigging, and despite the fact that most of the sails were “furled” the wind pushed the ship over on its side to the point that a wave washed up onto the deck. The ship, though, responded to it sluggishly. The wind was howling in the rigging but the ship was digging into the swells rather than running over them, water creaming over the bow on a regular basis. She was riding them out, but it didn’t look good to Herzer.
When the rain hit he decided that he’d like a bit more cover and headed up to the quarterdeck. There were now two men on the wheel and it was clear that they were needed; it seemed to be kicking like a live thing in their hands.
“Following sea,” the skipper yelled to him when he noticed the look. “The waves push into the rudder and try to push it aside.”
“Won’t happen with my hands on the wheel, sir,” one of the sailors called. “She gripes, though, she surely does.”
“The pressure of the wind is pushing her nose down,” the skipper translated. “We’ll have to move some stores aft to give her more weight back there.” He turned and called below for a party and gave some rapid instructions including calling for Mbeki.
“It’ll take a while, though,” he added. “I’d appreciate it if you moved below, Lieutenant. This may look easy, but it’s not.”
“Yes, sir,” Herzer said, heading for the companionway. It didn’t look easy for that matter.
Instead of heading for his cabin, though, Herzer headed for the hatch to the wyvern area. The main hatch had been closed and “dogged down,” meaning that catches had been firmly sealed from the inside. There was a personnel hatch, though, and he opened that and went below, carefully setting the dual-side catches in place before he climbed down the ladder.
The scene below was a veritable Inferno. The wyverns were not happy at the change of motion in the ship and they were making their disquiet abundantly clear. They also had decided that since they weren’t going to be let out to go potty, it was time to do it indoors. Between the screeches and the smell he nearly climbed back out, but he stuck with what he considered his duty.
He saw Jerry slithering across the slimy floor and, grabbing a convenient rail, headed in his direction.
“Anything I can do?” he yelled over the squalling dragons.
“I dunno,” Jerry yelled back. “Can you either get the ship to quit pitching or find me a wyvern sedative?”
“No,” Herzer answered with a laugh. “Have they been fed?”
“Of course they’ve been fed,” Jerry answered. “Then they puked it back up. And I couldn’t believe it but it really did look worse coming back up. I’m starting to worry, they’re not getting enough water.”
“This gale isn’t going to quit any time soon,” Herzer said. He’d gotten close enough that they could carry on a conversation at normal tones. “What are we going to do?”
“Not sure,” Jerry admitted. “Whatever we can. Hopefully they’ll get their sea legs after a couple of days. I’m getting better; how ’bout you?”
“Yeah,” Herzer admitted. “At least before I came down here. Is there some way to clean this out?”
“I haven’t had time to find out,” Jerry admitted.
“I will.”
Herzer made his way back up the ladder and then paused when he reached the deck. The ship was still pitching and tossing and the wind was shrieking around him like a banshee. But from his experience of storms on land, the first part was usually worst. Once it passed over, if it passed over he temporized, it should get better.
He grabbed a passing seaman and was directed forward to where Chief Brooks was directing a party that was attending to the lashings on the longboat.
“Chief, you need to tell me who to bother when you don’t want to be,” Herzer yelled over the storm. The ship chose that moment to bury her nose in a wave and a flood of green poured over the side. Herzer instinctively shot a hand out and grabbed a rope, holding onto a young sailor that was passing by with his clamp. As soon as the flood had passed he pulled the sailor upright, noticing in passing that “it” was female, and tossed her back towards the longboat. “Back to work, seaman.”
“Well, you’re here,” the chief yelled back, grinning at the interplay. “Not bad for a bloody landlubber. What’cha need, Lieutenant?”
“The wyvern area is fisking horrible.”
“So I heard. But I don’t have a party to help you.”