The wind was much stronger now. Not full-force yet; no, it was still a long way from the fury that every man on The Charlotte could see was coming. But it was strong enough to make the rigging shriek; strong enough to rip the hat from Wyle's head and send it tumbling across the aft deck, with a sailor's blubbery body scuttling after it.
Wyle seemed not to notice. As the gusts tossed his long, greasy curls, he stared back toward the storm. Dwindling rapidly astern was Reavestone, nothing more than a speak.
The last of the Charlotte's sails had just gone up, full and billowing; the masts groaned and the rigging creaked as the sleek ship, propelled by the mighty following wind, surged forward, sliding down the face of a great wave, then climbing the next. Wyle grabbed a stout line to keep his balance, and looked up at the rigging, a rare expression of respect on his face. He was feeling confident now.
"She's a fine ship, this one!" He roared to the helmsman. "Have you ever seen such speed?"
The helmsman could only nod; even with his massive arms, he had to fight the wheel with all his strength to hold the course.
The sailor, clutching Wyle's hat, staggered back across the sloping deck, casting a worried look at the storm. Most of the sky was black; it was daytime, but the sailors below were using lanterns. "Can we outrun it," Trey asked, walking towards Wyle. "Outrun that?" Wyle laughed. "No, Trey, she's a witch of a storm, and this here"-he waved at the wind-"is her broom. She flies too fast for us, Trey. She'll be on us in a few hours. We'll be reefing every sail we got and dragging sea anchors before this one's through with us. But before that happens, we'll be riding this witch's broom ourselves." Wyle looked agian at the sails, then turned to the helmsman.
"I think we can coax another knot or two out of her," he shouted. "Let's put her on a broad reach, eh?"
The helmsman knew better than to question an order from Wyle, but he shot him a glance. Putting the ship at a sharper angle to the wind would, indeed, increase it's speed; but in this furious gale, it would also cause the ship to heel steeply, and put a massive strain on the sails, masts, and rigging.
Catching the helmsman's look, Wyle bellowed: "DO IT, MAN!"
The helmsman heaved on the wheel. The black ship slowly turned, groaning, and heeled hard to starboard. The crew grabbed for handholds as waves of water crashed onto the decks.
"HAUL IN THEM SAILS!" bellowed Wyle. "GIVE ME MORE SPEED!"
Dispite the fearsome angle of the deck, crewmen clambered to the winches and, working furiously, managed to take a few more feet on the sheets, which were taut as wires from the massive strain of holding the sails. As the ship gained even more speed, the starboard rail went under, and from below came the crashing sound of unsecure cargo tumbling into the side of the holds.
The ship groaned as it rose to the top of a giant swell, then seemed to fly down the other side. The masts bowed and looked as though they might snap. At that moment sheets of rain poured from the sky, soaking both men and beating the ocean to a furiois froth.
Nolan hadn't closed his eyes all night. For one thing, the weather had steadily worsened; the ever-larger waves kept the Charlotte in constant, sickening motion, and the groaning and creaking of the ship's timbers-much louder now-made sleep difficult. When they left Reavestone, the sky was clear as crystal. Then after about four hours of sailing a shout came from the crowsnest, after which Wyle grabbed a spyglass and aimed it towards the horizon. And there, above the water, was a group of roiling, black clouds gathering in size each passing minute. They expected it to turn course, but after the sun set and the sky grew dark, the clouds seemed to double their speed and size. During the night they prepared for a storm tossed journey. Nolan figured it wouldn't hurt to get a few hours rest, so he retired below decks and tried to sleep. But that hope was smashed when the ship began to rock furiously and the sound of rain pounded the ship.
He looked to the bed next to him and noticed Connor was sitting up, admiring his sword, while Austin stood looking out the port hole. Nolan sat up and got out of the bed.
"Seems like there's a storm." He said, obviously. Austin nodded and stepped away from the small, circular window. "Yes, and a bad one at that too. Trey went up to speak with Wyle just a few minutes ago, hopefully we can get out of this without trouble."
Nolan laughed at his thoughts. "Why does it always seem that misfortune loves to follow us everywhere we go."
Austin shrugged. "Well you are here are you not." He joked, bringing laughs from Connor. Nolan gave an irritable look and then walked to the door. Austin and Connor following close behind. Nolan guided them to the upper ladderway and ascended the steps. The wind was shrieking outside now; through the opening, Austin saw rain flying past sideways in dense gray sheets. Trey nearly collided into them as he went to climb down the stares.
"Oh. Hey, I was just coming back to y'all." Shouted Trey. He was soaked with rain and his hair was dripping and waving in the wind.
Trey stepped back and they stepped onto the deck. Austin followed, and in a moment found himself drenched with wind-driven rain. He looked towards the raised deck where he could see a stocky helmsman fighting to control the wheel. Standing next to him was Wyle, staring forward into the salty sea spray.
Waves crashed across the deck, nearly knocking them over. The sailors shouted cries of alarm as the ship tilted violently, almost leaning under the wieght of the ocean. Austin felt his feet slid out from under him as he fell backward, slamming the back of his head into the deck. He looked around, vision fuzzy, and saw that Nolan, Connor, and Trey had collapsed also.
Then he noticed Wyle running towards them, slipping and sliding across the deck as he made his way to them.
"Is everyone alright?" He asked, helping Nolan to his feet, then lending a hand to Connor. Austin stood and noticed that the crew, drenched and unbalanced, were trying to hold onto anything they could. Others were praying aloud to some god for mercy.
"What do we do?" Asked Connor, standing steadily. Wyle shook his head. "There's nothing we can do besides ride her out. This storm could go on for another day or two."
Just then the ship tilted dramatically as a tremendous sized wave lifted it vertically into the air. Sailors shouted and grabbed what they could as they hung helplessly as the Charlotte reached the top of the mountainous wall of water. Then it settled into a flat position for several seconds before diving down the other side of the wave. Screams and shouts were all that was heard as the ship disappeared into a cloud of salty mist.