Arista sighed but was just as happy to stand at the stern rail and watch Alric and Mauvin, who were paddling back. They were moving much faster now that they had the swells pushing them.
In the center of the ship, poles were passed through the holes in the big wheel and everyone put their weight into pushing the capstan around. Arista could hear the rapid clank, clank, clank of the pawls as they took up the slack. Then the sound grew slower, the time between the clanks longer.
Everyone aside from her, including Wyatt, heaved on the capstan. Each pole had two people on it except for Elden’s. The giant commanded his own pole and his face was turning red from the strain. Arista heard a fearful creaking as the anchor and the ship fought each other.
“Show us the waves, Arista!” Wyatt called to her. “Put your arms up and drop them just before a wave is about to hit the ship!”
She nodded and looked out to sea. Alric and Mauvin were already coming alongside. She looked at the swells. They were in a lull, but she could see three humps in the distance rolling toward them like the slithering backs of serpents.
“It will be a minute,” she shouted back.
“Everyone rest,” Wyatt told them. “When you see her drop her arms, really put your back into it.”
Mauvin and Alric scrambled over the side, soaked and exhausted. They flung themselves down on the deck.
“No time to rest!” Wyatt shouted at them. “Find a spot on the poles.”
The swells were nearing and Arista raised her arms. “Get ready!”
They all braced themselves and took deep breaths.
The first swell rushed in and Arista dropped her arms, but she did so too late.
They heaved. There was a grinding sensation; then it stopped and the men fell, exhausted, hanging from the poles.
“I timed it wrong,” Arista shouted. “I was too late. Here comes another.” She raised her arms and they all braced again, with Mauvin and Alric finding places at the poles.
Arista watched the swell rushing at her. This time she lowered her arms while the wave was still a few feet away. By the time the men heaved, the rear of the ship was rising. There were a noticeable lurch and more grinding. This time she heard the sound of wood scraping and felt movement.
“One more!” she shouted, raising her arms and then dropping them almost as soon as they were up.
Once more the men pushed, the chain tightened, and the boat rose. This time a gust of wind managed to catch the topsail and the ship lurched dramatically. The bottom scraped and broke out of the sludge. They rocked smooth and free, drifting backward.
A cheer rose and everyone was grinning. Wyatt ran back to the stern beside Arista and grabbed hold of the wheel. “That was lucky,” he said, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Great job, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“Keep cranking! Let’s see if we can save the anchor.”
The men pushed the capstan around easily now. They quickly covered the distance Alric and Mauvin had paddled and passed it. Arista watched the cable swing down beneath them. There was a sudden lurch that staggered her; then she heard the rapid clanking of the pawls as the anchor came in.
“Man the braces!” Wyatt shouted. “Stand by to come about!”
Wyatt looked out at the swells and gave the wheel a hard spin. The ship turned. “Swing round the yards—starboard tack!”
Everyone else cleared out of the way as Hadrian, Elden, and Royce went to work twisting the yards and tying off. The ship turned its nose out to sea and the wind filled the sails, pushing it over to one side. “Tacks and sheets, catch that wind!”
Arista grabbed hold of the rail, frightened at the sudden speed the ship acquired and the disturbing tilt of the deck. Concerned that they were about to capsize, she watched apprehensively as the mast leaned and the ship rode on its side.
“There she goes!” Wyatt exclaimed with a great smile on his lips. “Fly, Harbinger, fly!” As if the ship heard him, the bow broke through a crest, dove forward, and hurdled the surface until it splashed down with a burst of spray. “Atta girl!”
Arista carried the hot cup with difficulty. She held it with both hands, but the deck refused to stay in one place for long and caused her to stagger. She approached Myron, who sat shivering with his back against the base of the mast.
“Here,” she said, kneeling down and holding out the steaming cup.
“For me?” he asked, and she nodded. He took the cup and sniffed. “It’s tea?” he said as if the drink were some kind of miracle. “It’s hot tea.”
“You seemed like you could use something warm to drink.”
Myron looked at her with an expression of such gratefulness she thought for a moment that he might cry. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s just tea, Myron. It wasn’t much work.”
“You had to get the stove going, and that must have been difficult. I wouldn’t know how to do that on board a ship.”
“I—ah, I didn’t use the stove.”
“But you had to boil the water… Oh,” he said, lowering his voice.
“Yeah, I used a little trick.” She wiggled her fingers.