As the ship crested the next wave, the crew rushed to man the oars. A wave crashed up the bow of the ship, then ran across the deck to be thrown from the scuppers to join the surges once more.
With the beat of the bosons drum the ship seemed to come to life and began to claw its way up, then down the face of the waves. Below deck at the rower’s benches some of the crew collapsed, exhausted. Only to be replaced by another filled with desperation to keep the ship ahead of the waves.
Up in the crow’s nest, the lookout was watching the seagulls hover in place for a few seconds to be blown back by howling gusts. As he turned away from them, he saw it. The Maelstrom.
