Separation

Cursing, the sec boss plunged into the throng below, only to find himself thrown off his feet as the next crosscurrent hit the boat, showering the inhabitants with cold salt spray as the boat was flung sideways with the impact. Regaining his balance, it was hard for the sec boss to fight his way through. He also noticed that the craft was beginning to ship water as it dipped over and under the riders, taking on water at the prow. More than ever, it was important to get the motor running so that they could cut through the crosscurrents as quickly as possible.

Sineta came down and moved among her people, her presence alone reassuring them. Although the baron was trembling inside, she remained outwardly strong and calm, organizing the people so that they began to bale out the excess water the boat was shipping. The activity wasn’t only necessary to keep the top heavy craft afloat, it also helped to focus the people aboard and to quell any panic in the need for action.

By the time Markos had the engine fired and the boat began to cut through the water, headed for the peninsula, the Pilatans were baling as fast as they could.

On the ships that followed, there were similar problems.

“Brace yourselves, here it comes,” Mildred yelled, keeping her eyes fixed on the boat in the lead and on the first indication of turbulence that broke the surface. Forewarned by the difficulties of the first craft, those behind had braced themselves for the impact, but there was still little chance of being truly prepared for the sudden shock of first impact.

“Watch out above!” Krysty yelled over the noise— the crash of the waves on the boat, the groaning of the timbers, the yelling of frightened Pilatans and startled animals, and—most ominously—the squeal of rigging that had been torn loose.

Above them, the mast had splintered under the conflicting stresses of sea and wind, and the heavy wood and sails toppled to plummet onto the deck below.

Two Pilatan women and a man stood in the direct path. All were transfixed as the rigging fell, unable to move as a crippling terror paralyzed them. The man— much older—had to have been the father or uncle of the two women, who huddled into him. He spread his arms uselessly around them, in a feeble imitation of protection. It would serve to be of no use when the heavy rigging hit them.

Mildred was out of range, but she saw Jak, surefooted even in the pitch and yaw of the wave tossed boat, head toward them. The albino moved swiftly, gathering speed and momentum as he slalomed around upright bodies and hurdled those who were prone. He seemed able to do this without looking at the deck, his gaze fixed on the rigging above as it fell toward the trio, seemingly in slow motion.

When he was about seven feet from the three Pilatans, the albino tensed his muscles, the cords standing out on his thighs and calves, blood pumping in his ears, and threw himself through the air, spreading his arms wide to encompass the width of all three bodies.

He didn’t see them as he hit the obstacle of unmoving flesh. His head was tucked down into his right shoulder to offer his neck some protection from the impact that he knew was inevitable. He felt himself hammer into them, the momentum he had built up almost stopped dead by their frozen terror. But not quite. The force of Jak’s weight—as slender as he was—going at top speed was enough to drive all three of the terrified Pilatans backward, stumbling steps halting and falling into a heap.

The rigging hit the deck with a splintering crash, smashing deck planking where they had stood but a fraction of a second before. The impact seemed to galvanize everyone on board.

“Get that engine running!” the lead seaman screamed over the sound of the whiplash waves. The engine throbbed and roared, battling against the currents as the ship’s tiller was turned to direct it toward the shore and the peninsula.

“Hot pipe! Did you see that!” Dean exclaimed to his father as they watched the rigging fall on the ship in front.

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