With the stowaway currently in the brig and me in my captain’s quarters, the ship – The Sea Lion – danced along the waves at dusk. I looked out my porthole, went out on the deck, and rang the “next shift come out here” bell (totally different from the “get on the deck or get thrown overboard” bell) and the current people in the crow’s nest and at the wheel, and so forth, were replaced. I bit my lip nervously as I saw cruel storming clouds ahead of us. “Steer us away from the weather!” I called to Henry, at the wheel.
He grunted as he tugged the wheel to the right, turning the sails to the right to catch the wind to go that way.
“Cap’n! T’ain’t ‘nuff wind goin’ dis way! Storm’s guna be catchin’ up wit’ us!” Bad Grammar Gunther announced from the nest.
“Aye, Henry, try another way!” I climbed the stairs up to the level where he stood so I wouldn’t loose my voice.
“No can do, Cap’n. The storm’s coming from all around!”
And then we were pelted by chilling rain.