Captive on the High Seas. Christina RichЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Brison, move them all below, huddle them in the center around the mast. Go with haste.”
He tied a rope around his waist as did his two armed warriors, Haemon and Argos, standing guard on either side of the command post’s platform. Nicolaus glanced at the other boat. A few of his men remained with Xandros.
Nicolaus could only hope his friend’s natural ability with the sea would keep them well. “Tell the rowers to push forward. We must get in front of the other boat in order to take the brunt of the wave.” He clenched his teeth together knowing he risked the lives on his vessel to protect those on the weaker, but it was his duty. They were all under his protection. Nicolaus glanced at the other boat and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a few oars maneuvering it backward in order to fall in line behind him. Nicolaus wouldn’t question the appearance of the oars or the providence that had left several of his men on the other boat. He was thankful that there was hope for the other ship’s survival, if it held together against the wave.
Even with the cry of the babe and the soft cooing of Ada’s voice as Brison ushered her toward the back of the ship, an eerie silence settled over them. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the blue wall as it rushed toward them, daring it to crash over the bow. His jaw twitched in irritation. Could their situation possibly get worse? Ay, he knew it could, but he hoped it wouldn’t. “Almighty God of creation, my uncle believes in Your existence, I dare not test You lest You see us all washed into the sea, but if You are real, if You are living and breathing as Oceanus believes You to be, as Ada believes You to be, then I beseech You, save us.”
The bow rose, lifting the bronze battering ram toward the murky sky. Nicolaus gripped the rail in front of him and dared the sea to take his ship, his crew and Ada from him. He would not see defeat this day. He would not. Could not. Assurance flooded his being, puffing out his chest. He held on to that thin thread of confidence as the wave lifted them high.
Ada handed the babe down to the waiting arms of a gruff-looking sailor standing on the stairs, her queasy stomach forgotten in the face of a greater need. She glanced toward the other boat. The arms and faces of the men in the small fishing vessel, including Nicolaus’s friend Xandros, strained with each push and pull of the oars as it moved backward. Nicolaus shouted out a command, and Ada grasped hold of the rail to keep from falling as the force of their own vessel moved forward.
She brushed her hair from her eyes and stared at their captain. With his arms crossed, Nicolaus stood like a sentry near the city gates. Yet, he was much bigger for he hadn’t the thick walls to offer him protection from the enemy. Nor had he an army to stand beside him. Only two warriors with shields at their backs and swords at their sides. Daggers hung from Nicolaus’s leather belt. What kind of man stood against the sea as if to do battle?
An honorable one, no doubt. One who fought for those under his protection. Including the strangers in the hold. Including her, a mere slave. Had her father cared for his slaves in such a manner? Considering how he left her mother to die at the demands of his wife, she did not think so.
“Ada, you must get below.” Brison’s words must have carried on the wind for Nicolaus turned his head. The hard set of determination etching his jaw stole her breath. If the raging sea were a man it would, no doubt, beg for mercy. “He’s a good sailor, Ada. You’ve no need to worry that we’ll all drown.”
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