Litany of Winter

The next swell caught Severin before his stomach had settled from the last.

The Vigilant Gale climbed beneath him, rolled just enough to pull his weight toward the rail, then dropped into the hollow behind the wave. Severin tightened both hands around the rail as his footing shifted under him. Spray crossed the bow and struck him cold across the face.

”Not there.”

He turned. A man was coming aft with an easy balance, adjusting to each roll without seeming to think about it. He pointed at Severin’s boots.

”Out of that loop.”

Severin looked down at the wet line curled back on itself beside his heel and stepped clear.

”If that runs under load, it’ll take your ankle with it.” The man caught the line, shifted it with one hand, then looked at the black cloth over Severin’s left eye. ”Blind on that side?”

”Yes.”

”Then turn your bloody head before you cross a working deck. Sailors don’t grow extra limbs because a Crown guest didn’t see a rope.”

Severin released the rail carefully. ”You the boatswain?”

”Crowther. And you’re Hale. So you do listen.”

”I try it occasionally.”

Crowther did not smile. ”Try it all the way to Grayhook.”

Another roll came through the hull. Severin bent his knees too late and had to catch the rail again.

”Stop fighting her,” Crowther said.

”The ship?”

”No, the fucking sea. Of course the ship.”

Crowther moved away before Severin could answer, calling to two sailors near the forward deck. They shifted position as the line began to tighten, clearing its path before it came fully under strain. Severin watched them do it without needing to be told twice.

He turned his whole head before crossing toward the bulkhead, irritated that he had to.

Eight months with one working eye had taught him stairs, alleys, doorways, sword drills and that knowing where a table was did not stop him walking into the bastard. The cutter had added a floor that moved under him and men carrying things through the space his left side no longer warned him about.

Ahead, Captain Cooper stood clear of the working deck where he could see it all. A lieutenant came to him with a small slate tucked against his coat, spoke briefly, then pointed toward the west. Frank answered without looking away from the water.

At the helm, a sailor said something Severin could not hear.

Frank looked back. ”Again, Finch?”

Finch repeated it louder. ”She’s slow answering when she comes off the crest.”

”Wind or load?”

”Wind, I think. Stern’s behaving.”

Frank watched the next rise, then nodded. ”Keep her a point higher until you tell me otherwise.”

”Aye.”

The lieutenant made a note and moved on.

Severin had met plenty of officers who ignored advice from below. Frank had listened to Finch and adjusted the heading.

A low sound drew Severin’s attention to Rafael near the bulkhead, one hand braced flat against the steel and his face considerably less aristocratic than usual.

”You’re not looking too bloody good.”

Rafael’s good eye moved toward him. ”Your concern is touching.”

”I’m wondering if I should stand farther away.”

”That would be wise.”

”Are you seasick?”

Rafael swallowed once. ”Maybe. If I am, I’ll handle it privately.”

”Plenty of rail.”

”Privately,” Rafael said. ”And with dignity.”

Armin passed them with his field bag under one arm, moving with the roll without having to watch every step.

”Try not to stare at the deck,” Armin told Severin.

”I wasn’t.”

”You definitely were.”

Rafael said, ”Don’t waste your time with him. He’s been doing it for the past ten minutes.”

”Damn traitor.”

Armin nodded toward the horizon. ”Keep your gaze there when you can. It’ll help with the balance.”

”Crowther teach you that?”

”Does it matter? Learned it on another ship.”

Severin watched Armin continue aft with his field bag. Three years marked had taught him plenty, but he never seemed interested in lecturing anyone about it. Severin liked that.

Near the center of the deck, Crowther raised one hand and Leo stopped immediately.

A sailor hauled a loaded line across Leo’s path. It came tight with a hard wet sound. Only after Crowther dropped his hand did Leo cross.

Leo went where Frank was waiting without argument.

Severin looked back at Rafael. ”I don’t think we’re made for boats.”

”Ship.”

”What?”

”It’s called a ship. Keep calling it a boat and the captain may throw you overboard.”

A heavier wave lifted the bow, and this time Severin bent with it.

The motion was still unpleasant, but his boots stayed where he put them. Crowther noticed and said nothing.

For the next quarter hour, Crowther taught Severin mostly by telling him where not to stand. He showed him where he could safely cross the working deck and how much space to give a loaded line or a sailor moving quickly. Twice Crowther told him to move. The second time, Severin was already moving before the sentence finished.

The cutter rolled harder to starboard, and something wooden struck steel behind him.

Severin turned and saw that case two had shifted.

It sat where the crew had secured it during loading, lashed beside another equipment crate against the bulkhead. The rope still held, but one corner had moved perhaps an inch from the chalk mark beneath it.

The next roll brought it back, but when the hull rose again, the same corner crept farther.

Severin had seen freight start that way in Blackhaven. Once a heavy load began to shift, each roll made the next movement worse.

”Crowther.”

The boatswain was already halfway forward.

”Crowther!”

Crowther turned, and Severin pointed toward the crate. ”That case is walking.”

He looked once and moved. ”Hold clear.”

Two sailors were already coming with him. Crowther crouched beside the lashing as the cutter rolled again. The case knocked against the restraint, harder this time.

”Fenwick! Ease her if the captain can spare it.”

Fenwick relayed the request forward.

Crowther pointed at Severin. ”Hale, other side. Keep your feet out from under it. Montoro, take that line when I give it to you.”

Rafael pushed off the bulkhead and moved where Crowther had pointed.

Severin took the position Crowther indicated. The next roll sent the case toward him. It came slowly, carrying enough weight that Severin knew better than to put himself in front of it. Crowther worked the line, shifting the strain where he wanted it.

”Now.”

Severin pulled with the sailor beside him while Rafael took the second line and followed Crowther’s count.

The cutter dropped, and the case shifted half a foot.

Severin let go exactly when Crowther shouted for it, and the line snapped tight across the space his hands had occupied a moment earlier.

His shoulder struck the bulkhead, sending a brief flare of pain down his arm.

”Again,” Crowther said.

They timed the next attempt with the roll. Crowther used the movement to bring the case back toward the bulkhead while the sailors reset the lashing. Rafael held his line where told, pale now but steady. Severin took the strain, released on command and caught it again when the deck came back beneath them.

A final turn of rope went home, and Crowther checked it himself before checking the neighboring restraint.

Severin straightened and rubbed his shoulder.

Crowther pointed at the next expedition case. ”You spotted this one. Check that bastard with me.”

Severin followed him as they checked the remaining cases together. Crowther showed him where the first lashing had begun to work against itself under the changing roll and made him put a hand on the rope so he could feel the difference between tension and movement.

Frank came aft while Crowther finished the last check.

”You spotted it?”

Severin nodded. ”It started moving a little farther every roll.”

”Freight yard?”

”You remembered.”

”I try to.”

Frank looked toward Crowther. ”Keeping him?”

Crowther tugged once on the new lashing. ”Until he gets in the way.”

”Give it time,” Severin said.

Crowther ignored him.

”If Crowther sends you below, you go,” Frank said.

”I know.”

”Then we’re clear.”

While they worked, the wind had shifted. Severin noticed it in the spray, which no longer came clean over the bow but cut across the deck in harder bursts. The western sky had lost what little brightness remained.

Fenwick joined Frank again. This time Finch called from the helm before either man finished speaking.

”Sea’s building faster to the west.”

Frank glanced at the rigging, then toward the water. ”Worse than expected?”

”Fast enough I’d rather keep it astern than take it broadside later.”

Fenwick checked the slate. ”The glass has fallen again since we cleared Westhold.”

Leo came over, waiting until Crowther waved him through the working space. ”What does that change?”

Frank watched another swell pass beneath the cutter. ”Southpoint had it building farther west and later. It’s coming in faster than they expected.”

”Can we still make Grayhook?”

”Yes.”

”Do we alter course?”

”Not yet. We keep going.”

”Understood.”

Frank turned to Fenwick. ”Set the rough-weather watch now. I want anything loose below or tied down before dark.”

Fenwick was already moving.

Crowther raised his voice across the deck. ”You four, listen. After dark, none of you comes onto the exposed deck without a safety line and permission from whoever has the watch. I don’t care what your papers say.”

Leo nodded. ”Agreed.”

Rafael had recovered some color and now looked personally offended by the sea. Severin turned his head to check the deck on his left before the next roll reached them.

Frank remained facing west, and Severin followed his gaze to the darker water ahead, where the white breaks were drawing closer together.

”How long before it reaches us?” Leo asked.

Frank folded the weather sheet once and put it inside his coat.

”It’ll catch us before Grayhook.”