The Far Shore (30 page)

‘He’s gone under again,’ someone yelled.

Desenna returned with Asdribar. The captain was holding a length of thin line attached to a triple-headed iron hook. He already had the rope coiled and didn’t hesitate in choosing Korinth for the throw. ‘Stand clear!’

Despite their captain’s words, the crewmen stayed as close as they could to the side-rail. Several had dropped to their knees and raised their hands to the heavens in prayer.

Cassius blinked to try to clear the stinging water from his eyes. He wasn’t even sure if his efforts were making any difference, though a glance back at the stars confirmed the ship was at least maintaining her course.

But now the wind seemed to have caught the right side of the
Fortuna
and the stern was sliding left. Setting his feet, Cassius hauled both tillers to the right and watched the lantern at the other end of the ship.

Slowly, the bow came round.

Indavara saw instantly that the effort would fail. Korinth loosed the hook with an arcing throw, trying to land it on Tarkel’s line. Despite the weight of the iron head, by the time it neared its target, the fierce wind had blown the rope off course. The hook landed closer to the yard than the boy.

‘No!’ came Squint’s despairing shout.

Indavara was already on the move. Having sat against the side-rails for much of the trip, he knew exactly where to find what he needed. As he shouldered his way past Opilio and plucked the nearest boathook from its mount, the men cried out:

‘Tarkel!’

‘Stay up, boy!’

‘Hold on! We’re coming for you!’

Indavara ran back and held the boathook up in front of Asdribar and Korinth. ‘Get a line on this.’

‘Yes,’ said Asdribar. Korinth reached for the nearest piece of long rope and wrenched it free.

Squint turned from the side-rail. ‘I can’t see him!’

With blinding speed, Korinth tied the rope to the iron ring at the butt end of the boathook. Indavara still had his hand on the wooden shaft. ‘Let me?’

‘Go,’ said the deck-chief. He grabbed the other end of the rope, ran to the side-rail and squatted down. Indavara raised the boathook over his shoulder. Though a lot more unwieldy, he reckoned it weighed about the same as a throwing javelin.

‘Now!’ roared Squint.

Indavara looked out at the dark sea. He saw where the trailing line disappeared under the water. There was no sign of the boy. He fixed his eyes on the rope, took a single step and let fly.

The boathook arrowed across the waves and plunged into the water a foot beyond the line. Korinth was already backing up, pulling the rope with him.

‘Think you got it,’ yelled Desenna.

As Korinth kept pulling, the trailing rope bent. A hand emerged from the waves, then a head.

Indavara took hold of the line too and the others cleared a path as he and Korinth retreated along the side-rail, pulling the rope – and the lad – towards the ship.

The ever-enterprising Desenna had located an even longer boathook, which he now dropped over the side and hooked around Tarkel’s belt. He was able to keep his head above the water as the others manoeuvred him over to the yard.

Asdribar ordered two men to grab his legs, then he lay on the timber and reached down. At the third attempt he grabbed Tarkel under one arm and pulled him from the water.

Indavara, Simo and the sailors gathered round as Asdribar deposited the lad face down on the deck. They could see the ugly red welts on his hands where he’d wrestled with the rope to keep his head up. As Korinth detached the line, Asdribar pulled Tarkel up by his belt and repeatedly slapped him hard on the back. Tarkel’s body spasmed, then water began to pour from his mouth. His head turned to the side and his eyes opened.

A cheer went up from the men and Indavara felt several hands strike his own back.

As if to remind them of their situation, the
Fortuna
pitched sharply, sending two men sliding into the mass of sailcloth.

With one hand still on the boy, Asdribar addressed his crew. ‘Korinth, take Desenna and rig the foresail. The rest of you clear this mess. Check the hull for any damage and get the yard inboard.’

He looked down at Tarkel. The lad’s tongue was hanging out and he was staring up at the sky. Asdribar turned to Indavara and Simo. ‘Get him below and into a bed.’

Cassius heard the cheer, but it barely registered. Ignoring the sailors scurrying around by the mast, he kept his gaze locked on the bow lantern. Emitting a steady stream of curses, he struggled on. Every time he thought he was making progress, one or both of the tillers would pull in an apparently random direction. He was terrified that the boat would turn side-on to the wind and capsize. Commanding a century of legionaries suddenly seemed like a comparatively easy job.

‘Where is he?’ Cassius yelled, only to be answered by the welcome sight of Asdribar striding towards him.

The Carthaginian untied the safety line and shouted ‘Well done!’ as he took over the tillers. ‘Now help them with the boy,’ he added.

Cassius met Simo and Indavara at the hatch. He went down first and took Tarkel’s feet, then the three of them carried him below.

‘To your bed, sir?’ asked Simo.

‘Of course,’ Cassius replied, leading the way. He propped open the cabin door as Simo and Indavara took Tarkel inside and deposited him gently on the bed. Simo grabbed a towel and some blankets.

Once back at the steps, Cassius and Indavara had to wait for Squint and a limping sailor to come down. Cassius pointed along the passageway. ‘Simo will have a look at you when he has a moment.’

Squint left the injured man and hurried into the hold, sloshing through the water to where the timber and tools were kept. He suddenly stopped and turned. ‘What are you two doing just standing around? Lend a hand!’

By dawn the storm had blown itself out. Cassius and Indavara remained on deck throughout the night, and were as grateful as the crew for every decrease in the strength of the wind and the size of the waves. It was the first clear morning for several days and the sight of the new sun lifted the spirits of everyone aboard.

With Squint back on the helm, Asdribar came up to the foredeck to take charge. His first order was to replace the current foresail with a bigger sail stored below. While Korinth and Desenna dealt with this, Asdribar told the others to take a break. One man knelt to offer a quiet prayer, but most – Cassius and Indavara included – just sat or lay down while Asdribar surveyed his ship.

Aside from a couple of small holes, the deck was remarkably undamaged. All the rope, tackle and sailcloth had been gathered up and stowed. But even a cursory glance at the yard showed the most serious problem: a huge crack running half the length of the timber.

‘I assume that’s beyond repair,’ said Cassius.

‘Far beyond,’ said Asdribar. ‘We have a spare but it’s two-thirds the size. We’ll have to brail the mainsail – make it smaller – but we should be able to maintain a decent speed.’

‘That’s something, I suppose.’

‘As long as the wind stays to the north we should strike land tomorrow.’

Cassius heard sandals slapping on the deck and saw Annia and Clara walking towards them, the young lady lugging a pail, her maid carrying a tray of food. He observed the reaction of the men. Despite their exhaustion, most of the sailors were smiling. The sight of the two young women, with their fair faces and long hair shining in the sun, was the greatest fillip imaginable. The prospect of something to eat and drink probably didn’t hurt either.

Annia looked at the damaged yard, then at the men. The weary faces and bruised, battered bodies told the story of the night better than any description.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘Thank you all.’

Floating in the pail full of water were wooden mugs, which the men filled up and drank from. Piled high on Clara’s tray were slices of bread smeared with olive oil and chunks of crumbly white cheese.

‘Don’t be too nice to them, miss,’ remarked Asdribar. ‘I don’t want them going soft on me.’

‘They deserve it, Captain,’ Annia replied.

‘I won’t argue with you there.’

The Carthaginian sat down on the yard and grabbed a piece of bread. He found a grin for Clara. ‘All right, girl?’

‘Poseidon’s anger has passed, sir. We might reach the land now, mightn’t we?’

‘I’ll see to it. Don’t you worry.’

When Annia had delivered water to every man, she returned to Asdribar. ‘You were right about the
Fortuna
, Captain. She got us through.’

‘Her and the crew, miss, yes.’

Asdribar tipped his mug at Cassius and Indavara, who were sitting next to each other. ‘And not forgetting our auxiliaries of course.’

Annia looked down at Cassius and Indavara as they took food from Clara’s tray. Though he suspected the travails of the night might have skewed his thinking somewhat, Cassius had to admit she did look lovely; those chestnut tresses framing her delicate features. But there was something about the girl Clara too, with that generous figure and naive vulnerability. Cassius had always had a weakness for maids.

‘Sure you’ve no Thracian blood in you, Indavara?’ asked Asdribar. ‘I’ve not seen harpooning skills like that since I was in the Cyclades.’

‘What’s this?’ asked Annia.

Asdribar related the details of Tarkel’s rescue, ably assisted by enthusiastic contributions from Desenna and Opilio. Cassius had heard the crew talking about Indavara’s quick thinking and skill for much of the night. Embarrassed, the bodyguard concentrated on his food. Cassius watched Annia as she listened and – try as she might – she just couldn’t hide her admiration. Was there anything a woman loved more than a modest hero?

When he’d finished his tale, Asdribar got to his feet and gestured to Cassius. ‘And don’t forget Officer Corbulo here – helmed the ship on his own during the worst of the storm.’

Cassius reckoned his efforts deserved rather more recognition than that but he did his best to appear magnanimous.

‘You did well,’ Asdribar added. ‘Sorry if I was a little rough with my orders.’

‘Not at all. Happy to help.’

Annia put the pail down. ‘Captain—’

Asdribar seemed to know exactly what she was going to ask. ‘No sign from the bow, miss, but visibility is excellent. I’ll send someone up the mast later.’

‘Thank you.’

Annia began a second round with the pail.

Cassius turned to Indavara. ‘Not to going to volunteer yourself for lookout duty, hero?’

Indavara glowered at him as he shoved some bread into his mouth.

‘Oh come on,’ added Cassius. ‘Just a jest. Cheer up, man. We should all be smiling after surviving last night.’

The expression on Indavara’s face hadn’t changed. He lowered his voice. ‘The storm. Do you think it was because of what I did at that temple?’

‘It’s November. There are a lot of storms in November. Let’s just hope we can make it to shore before there’s another one.’