The Huntsman's Amulet Read Online Free PDF Page B

and regular swell rolled across from the west, giving the ship a slow pitching gait as she ploughed her way toward Venter. He hoped the conditions would remain similar for the rest of the voyage.
    The ship looked very different under sail than she had tied up at the dock. It reminded Soren of the difference in a tree between winter and summer. The once bare, skeletal masts, sprits and yards were now alive with billowing cream coloured canvas. While she could never be called a thing of beauty, the Honest Christophe was no longer an inanimate hulk tied to a quayside; she felt lively and spirited under a full press of sail.

     
    They had been at sea for a few days before Soren began to relax into life on a constantly moving surface. He found that his feet began to meet with the deck when he expected them to. To alleviate boredom, he had even taken to pitching in with one of the watches, and although he would not contemplate going up into the rigging, he liked to think that he was useful to have around.
    He stood for a while at the bulwark each evening after supper, looking out to sea in the direction that the Isles lay. Usually he was left in peace, as the few men of his watch went below to rest and those on watch went about their duties. It was not the case on that night however, as Captain Joris made his way over with two mugs of steaming tea.
    ‘Staring won’t make them appear any sooner!’ he said, as he handed Soren one of the mugs.
    Soren nodded in appreciation as he took it. ‘I know.’
    ‘You’ll see the bank of cloud long before the Isles anyway. Still determined to go ashore?’
    Soren nodded, but he felt his certainty was less now; it seemed to ebb ever more the closer they got.
    ‘I want to convince you to stay on board. I’m only going to do it the once. You’re a decent young man. You’ve pitched in when others wouldn’t have and all the lads like you. If you were to stay aboard you’d be a rated seaman by the time we reach Voorn and you’d have no trouble at all finding work if you wanted to move ship. I’ll even offer to keep you on myself if you want it.’
    ‘It’s kind of you,’ Soren said, ‘but I have to go ashore. I’m not going to explain why, but I’m going.’
    ‘I thought you might say that,’ Joris said, ‘but I had to try. I expect we’ll be seeing the cloud by tomorrow.

     
    ‘Land ho!’
    The call came from one of the top-men, perched at the junction of the yard with the mast far enough off the deck to make Soren feel dizzy every time he looked up.
    As Joris promised, they had been able to see the cloudbank since the previous day, a thick grey blanket sitting above the sea, out of place in the otherwise clear sky. The mood on board had changed as soon as it was spotted. The men’s spirits sank and they all started to treat Soren a little differently, as though he were a condemned man.
    The winds had been fair up until that point, blowing across the side of the ship and allowing them to continue in a straight line, but the next leg of the voyage would not be as easy and part of Soren was glad that he would not be on board to endure it. After doubling back to clear the Shrouded Isles, the crew of the Honest Christophe would have to beat against the wind as they made their way north to reach Venter. This meant zig-zagging back and forth, with every ten miles sailed only getting them four or five miles closer to home. It seemed like a very frustrating way to travel and the value of being able to pass safely through the straits was obvious.
    The Isles were much as Captain Joris had described them. Where the ship sat, out in the open sea, it was a fine, clear day, the late winter sun strong, but not hot. The dark grey blanket of cloud hovering low in the sky over the Isles was ominous and ugly.
    Joris joined him at the bulwark and surveyed the Isles. ‘I wasn’t much more than a child when I saw this place. Hoped I never would again. Gives me a chill just looking at them.