The ship listed hard to the side as a massive wave smashed into it. The helmsman fought hard to keep her steady as the storm raged.
“Please, sir, let’s turn back,” Johnson said as he clung to the railing. Water dripped from the hat that had miraculously stayed on his head despite the torrents of rain and the wind whipping.
“Onward,” Clif answered as he set his sights on the horizon.
“But, sir–“
“We must make it to our island.”
A moan escaped Johnson’s lips as the ship rolled again. His features shifted from worried to hopeful as he spotted a lithe figure moving across the deck, hunched over as the rain pelted her.
“Captain!” he shouted. “Please, talk some sense into the Commodore.”
“Can’t do it, Johnson,” Henrietta shouted as she bypassed him and climbed the stairs to the helm.
Clif creased his brow as he spotted his sister. “What are you doing here? Who’s captaining your ship?”
“I swung across. Abby has it well in hand.”
Clif arched an eyebrow at her. “You swung across to my ship during this storm, leaving your Grandmistress under the guidance of a very green First Mate and an untested helmsman.”
“I trust them. If only because I will murder every last one of them should they wreck my beloved ship. Besides, I had to come.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“I had a question.”
“A question?” Clif repeated.
Henrietta bobbed her head up and down as rain continued to pound around them. “Might we step away for a moment into the privacy of your cabin to discuss it?”
