Part 72 (1/2)

The mulata's hand shot up and seized her arm with an iron grip.

Katherine felt her feet give way, and the next thing she knew she had been flung sideways against the hard rope shrouds.

”_E pada nibi!_” The voice was deep, chilling. Then she turned and advanced menacingly on Winston.

”G.o.d d.a.m.n you!” He shoved her back, then reached to help Katherine.

”Katy, are you all right? Just watch out for her. I wager she's gone mad after all that's happened. If we get time I'll have some of the boys come and take her below.”

Again the _Gloucester's_ guns flared, and a whistle sang across the quarterdeck as the shot clipped the railing next to where they were standing. Serina stared wildly at the shattered rail, then at the English man-of-war. Her eyes seemed vacant, as though looking through all she saw.

”Good Christ, Katy, take a look at those skies.” Winston felt a chill in his bowels as the lightning blossomed again. ”The wind is changing; I can feel it. Something's happening. If we lose a yard, or tear a sail, they'll take us in a minute. All it needs is one quick s.h.i.+ft, too much strain.”

As if in response to his words, the hull shuddered, then pitched backward, and Katherine heard a dull crack from somewhere in the rigging.

”Christ.” Winston was staring aloft, his face washed in the rain.

She followed his gaze. The mainmast had split, just below the maintop.

The topsail had fallen forward, into the foremast, and had ripped through the foresail. A startled main-topman was dangling helplessly from the side of his round perch. Then something else cracked, and he tumbled toward the deck, landing in the middle of a crowd of terrified seamen huddled by the fo'c'sle door.

”I knew we couldn't bear full sail in this weather. We've just lost a good half of our canvas.” He looked back. ”You've got to go below now.

Please. And see if you can somehow take that woman with you. We're in very bad trouble. If I was a religious man, I'd be on my knees praying right now.”

The _Gloucester's_ guns spoke once more, and a shot clipped the quartergallery only feet below where they were, showering splinters upward through the air.

”Atiba!” Serina was staring down over the railing, toward the hole that had been ripped in the corner of the Great Cabin beneath them.

Then she looked out at the wars.h.i.+p, and the hard voice rose again.

”_Iwo ko lu oniran li oru o nlu u li ossan?”_ Finally her eyes flared and she shouted through the storm, ”_Shango. Oyinbo I'o je!”_

Once more the lightning came.

Later he wondered if he might have been praying after all. He remembered how the fork of fire slid down the mainmast of the _Gloucester_, then seemed to envelop the maintop, sending smoke billowing through the tops'ls above. Next it coiled about the mainmast shrouds.

In moments her main tops'l was aflame, as though she'd been caught with fire-arrows. Soon a tongue of the blaze flicked downward and ignited her main course. After that the shrouds began to smolder. Almost immediately her seamen began furling the other sails, and all open gunports were quickly slammed down to stop any shreds of burning canvas from accidentally reaching the gun deck. Next the helmsman threw his weight against the whipstaff to try and take her off the wind.

She was still underway, like a crippled fires.h.i.+p bearing down on them, and for a moment Winston thought they were in even greater danger than before. But then the _Gloucester's _mainmast slowly toppled forward as the shrouds gave way, tearing into the other rigging, and she heeled.

It was impossible to see what followed, because of the rain, but moments later burning spars were drifting across the waves.

”It was the hand of Providence, as I'm a Christian.” John Mewes was mounting the quarterdeck, solemn and subdued. A crowd of stunned seamen were following him to gain a better view astern. ”The Roundhead wh.o.r.esons were tempting fate. They should've known better than puttin'

to sea with topmasts like those in this d.a.m.n'd weather. Heaven knows, I could have told them.”

There was a murmur of a.s.sent from the others. They stood praising the beneficence of G.o.d and watched as the last burning mast disappeared into the rain.

After Winston had lashed the whipstaff in place and ordered the sails shortened, he collapsed against the binnacle.