Ocean Riviera
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“We’re going to lose them.” It wasn’t a question; there was no need. The three of us were standing on the aft deck, with the sails filling slowly as the wind built over the sea. We were just coming out from under the lee of the island and into the open sea, but we couldn’t get away from the island fast enough.
“No,” I said at length, staring across the water. “But they can catch up in an hour or so.”
“How long do we have?”
I glanced back to the helm, where my father stood with his hands clasped around the wheel. “If the wind is right…” I trailed off, trying to think about what we had left. There was still plenty of sail set, which helped us keep some speed, but our destination was far out of sight.
It would take several hours for that distance to close, even if the wind held. If it didn’t hold…well, we’d find out.
“The wind should be here by dawn,” I said finally. “Then they’ll have to wait until it’s light before they try anything.” My voice was low, almost a whisper.
Sara turned and met my eyes, giving me a look of concern. “You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“They’re professionals,” I said at last, trying not to sound too defensive. “They’ve been doing this longer than either one of us has been alive. They know what they’re doing. Besides,” I added quickly, as she started toward the mainmast again, “we need every hand down below to keep these decks clean. I doubt they’d let a few girls come with them anyway.”
That stopped her, and she looked at me curiously, like she’d never considered how their crew might view us.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” She chuckled softly, looking over her shoulder at me as she made her way forward. “I’ll be fine. If you’re wrong, then I’ll help you fight them off. But we all know I’m going to win,” she finished, turning back to the mast.
“Yes, yes,” I said, trying hard not to laugh.
My father gave me another glance when she passed by him and disappeared onto the foredeck. He looked tired – he always did after a day working at the helm – but there was also something else behind those eyes.
He’s afraid. He was afraid, wasn’t he? Afraid that Sara was right; afraid that the wind wouldn’t come by dawn, afraid that the wind would die before we got close to shore. His fear was the same thing that drove the men who followed him, and I saw it in his eyes. Fear of death.
He doesn’t want to die.
The wind picked up just past dawn, coming out of the northeast, in the direction we wanted it to go. It blew steadily, keeping us on the course, and soon I heard the call for more hands to work the sails. The men came running out from belowdecks, eager to get back on deck.
The wind was strong enough to push the ship along easily, and soon we were racing across the ocean again, moving swiftly toward the shoreline.
As the sun rose over the horizon, its rays catching the white topsails and gleaming off the water, I could see why my father had chosen this particular route. A few islands dotted the coastline ahead of us, rising high above the waves in places or forming small coves between rocky cliffs.
Our current path would bring us within sight of one of those little coves. We would probably pass it by without seeing it, sailing right by it without noticing the island.
The cove itself was tiny, with only two or three ships anchored near its mouth. None of them seemed large enough to be the Ocean Riviera, though, and that was the only reason I knew that we hadn’t run aground. If I had been able to see her, I would have known immediately that we weren’t in danger of grounding our ship.
But it was difficult to judge distances from a distance, especially at such a great speed.
My father took the ship up even further, passing the island and continuing out to sea beyond it. Once we were clear of the cove and the rocks that surrounded it, he lowered the sails and brought the ship around to starboard, heading north-northeast into the open ocean.
I looked over at the map on the wall of the cabin, tracing the coastline ahead of us until we reached the mouth of the bay where our quarry had escaped. As I watched, my heart leaped into my throat when I realized that we were nearly upon the point where the coast curved sharply away from the mainland.
There is a narrow channel leading into the bay, a place where the river widens out and allows ships through easily. My father was sailing directly toward it, and I knew we would have no trouble navigating it when the time came.
We rounded the tip of the landmass, and the channel began to widen as we sailed toward it. The water was dark blue against the gray sky overhead, and a few birds flew across its surface in search of food. A few fish darted out from beneath our keel, startled by our movement, their scales shimmering as they moved under the water’s surface.
My father had been watching for signs of life on board throughout our journey, but the only ones he saw were small animals and birds. No other vessels had approached us during the entire trip, and there didn’t seem to be anyone on the shore.
He signaled for all hands to prepare to cast off lines, and I could hear the grunts of exertion and groans from the men as they strained to lift heavy objects while remaining balanced in order to get the ship ready for the beach.
“Ready your cannons!” My father shouted.
His voice boomed around the deck, loud and commanding. His eyes never left the ocean, but he held his gaze there long enough for every man to feel that he was looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the ocean, and the expression in his eyes was one of determination: We’re coming to kill you. You will know the pain when we reach the shore.
Then he turned his attention to the men on board. His eyes swept over all of them in turn, fixing them with his gaze for a moment before moving on.
“Cannons loaded,” he announced. “Ready!”
The crew responded in kind, and his announcement echoed loudly across the water.
I could see that he was pleased with the response: We are ready! I can see that we are ready. It’s time to hunt you down.
A shout from the captain broke his concentration for a moment, and he turned in my direction to look at me. His smile was wide, but there was an edge to it – a hint of sadness in it. It reminded me of how my mother used to look at me when I was small, proud and sad all at once.
She always said that it was because she’d known that one day I would leave her, but now I understood that it was also because she couldn’t bear to watch me grow up so far from her.
It was the same expression that appeared on my father’s face as I stared back at him. He was sad and happy to see me again; sad and happy that he could help me fulfill my destiny. And yet he was still sad about something, just like my mother.
“You are very good,” he said to me.
His words made me feel a little better. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be here after all, and maybe I would find out who my parents were, and where I came from. Maybe I wouldn’t be alone anymore.
He smiled as if he had heard my thoughts, then returned his attention to the ship’s course, calling to the helmsman again.
“Helmsman, keep us heading northeast.”
The man nodded without saying anything. He didn’t need to. My father knew what he wanted already. He needed the helmsman to keep us going straight in the direction we were headed, and I think that my father liked knowing that he was in charge of that decision.
We kept heading northeast, following the curve of the coastline closely. Soon we were approaching the entrance to the bay where the enemy vessel had hidden, but there was nothing to see on the water ahead of us.
As we got closer, though, it became clear that the sea was full of life. Birds and small animals swam and dove beneath us, darting in front of the sails and trying to avoid our path. We had seen this phenomenon often since leaving the shipyard, but this was the first time I had really taken the time to appreciate it.
We drew even with the channel into which the river empties. My father was steering the ship directly toward the opening. I wondered whether this was intentional or not. Had he somehow planned for the enemy ship to come to this place?
“Helmsman, bring us in slowly!”
This time there was no hesitation from the helmsman.
“Very good!”
Again my father looked at me and grinned.
“Good luck to you on your journey,” he said, and then the sound of his voice disappeared behind a loud bang as we hit something solid with the prow of the ship.
The End