They both looked about, deafened by their hours in the storm winds, not quite certain that they had reached a safe haven.
'The anchor... Rob... drop it. We can't... run... aground,' she said, gesturing to the bow. 'May be rocks anyway ... no matter.'
He dropped the anchor, saw the line run out, then the forward motion of the sloop stopped. He could hear her timbers creaking as she answered the motion of the sea and then swung about on her tether.
Kasia, at the end of her strength, was draped across the tiller bar.
He had little strength left himself, but the need to get his beloved below, to what warmth they could contrive, was foremost in his mind. And he did, half dragging her the short space from the seat to the cabin, slamming open the hatch, hoping that the waves had not seeped through and flooded their one refuge. He almost tumbled her down the stairs, but they both made it. She pulled herself into the bunk while he struggled to close the hatch.
She was shaking violently when he reached her. Somehow he got the sodden clothes off her coldly mottled body and rolled her into the furs. She groaned and tried to say something, but hadn't the strength.
'Hot, must have hot,' he mumbled, trying to make his frozen fingers cope with striking a match to the charcoal- filled brazier which did duty as cooker. Sometime in the past he had filled the kettle with water for a meal which he had never had a chance to cook. Now he waited anxiously for the water to warm sufficiently for him to make klah. He'd heat the last of the fish stew they'd made – how long ago? He could hear teeth chattering, and realized that they were both doing it. He swung around to the bunk and rubbed her body as vigorously as he could to stimulate circulation. He nearly burned his finger, touching the top of the kettle to see if the water was hot enough to be useful. He had his answer and sucked at the burn while he poured water over the powdered klah, gave it a swirl, and then fumbled to open the sweetener jar. Sweetening was good to offset shock and cold.
He took the first sip – to be sure it wouldn't burn her mouth.
Then, pulling her up against his body as he leaned wearily against the bulkhead, he held the cup to her lips.
'Sip it, Kasia, you've got to get warm.'
She was so cold she could barely swallow, but she did, and he coaxed sip after sip into her. When she craned her head round, making noises in her throat, her bloodshot, weary eyes pleading, he drank too. That cup drained, he made another and then put the soup kettle on to warm. He had all but fallen asleep when the steam hissing from under the lid woke him, but he caught the pot before the pressure flipped the cover off.
It couldn't have been a long rest, but it had been enough for his resilient young body, and he poured soup into two cups, then put the water kettle back on. He'd towel her down with warm water.
That might help.
He took half of his cup of soup between struggling out of his wet-weather gear and finding clean, dry, warm clothing from the cupboard. He got out the warmest things Kasia had brought with her and the heavy woollen socks. These he put on her feet, after chafing them until she moaned and tried to draw them away from him; they were pink with his ministrations.
Now he had enough warm water and soaked a towel, passing it from one hand to the other before he pulled back the fur and laid it against her chilled legs for a few moments, coaxing warmth back into them.
The bluehess was leaving her skin by the time he got her to drink all her soup, but she lay limply under the fur, drained by even the slight effort required to swallow. Under them the little ship rocked gently, pulling at the anchor chain, then following the sea as it was pulled back again. He got in the bunk beside her, covering them both with the other fur, and at last allowed himself the luxury of sleep.
An urgent need to relieve himself was what brought Robinton back to consciousness. He couldn't move easily, partly because of the weight of Kasia across him and partly because of the resistance of tired muscles. It took him a few moments to remember why he had slept so deeply. Startled, he looked out of the little round porthole and saw a shadowed shore through the mist that swirled on the surface. Little waves splashed against the side of the ship, and she rode easily on the anchor.
Trying not to groan as he forced abused muscles to work, he slid out from under Kasia and all but fell off the bunk. Kasia didn't move, but her face wasn't quite so white and her lips were no longer blue-tinged. He tucked the fur about her firmly and staggered up the steps, throwing open the hatch. The air was chill and dank with fog, and the deck was littered with sea wrack. He went hand-over-hand from the cabin housing to the rail to get to the side and relieve himself– and it was indeed a relief.
Curious, he peered through the fog to see where they had fetched up, but he could see little detail on the shore – if there was a shore.
Some of the inlets were nothing but shallow pockets eroded from the cliff by the sea. Whatever! This one had saved their lives.
He went below again.
The brazier had gone out; the charcoal was all ashes. He got more and started another fire, warming his hands as the charcoal began to burn. Kasia moaned, stirred, and then coughed. Fearful of fever, he felt her forehead but it was cold. So were her cheeks. Too cold.
He filled the kettle from the cistern and put it to heat on one side of the grill over the charcoal, then set the soup kettle on the other half. Panting from even that little bit of exercise, he sat on the edge of the bunk and took deep, slow breaths. A shiver ran down his back, and he realized that he was almost as cold as Kasia.
When the klah was made and the soup warm enough to be helpful, he roused her, stuffing pillows and the cadsaks behind her for support. She turned her head restlessly, batting at him, and coughed again – a little, almost apologetic bark.
'Kasia, wake up. You need to eat, love.'
She shook her head, her expression petulant even with her eyes firmly shut.
He talked her eyes open and made her drink, and she gave him a weak little smile and then went back to sleep again.
That seemed a very sensible idea, so he finished his soup and climbed back under the furs. Her arms were cold under his hands and he rubbed them, breaking off only when even that effort proved exhausting.
They slept again.
Robinton began to feel real concern when the second long sleep revived him but seemed to have little effect on Kasia's terrible lethargy. And the cold was increasing. The wooden hull offered no protection against the cold's insidious draining of their body warmth. He had dressed her in the warmest clothes and heated the kettle time and time again, wrapping it well and settling it securely near her feet which, in spite of the heavy socks, were like ice to the touch. He forced her to drink and, when she complained that her stomach was bursting with all he had made her drink, he found a way to hold her over a bucket to relieve herself.
The fog had lifted sufficiently for him to see that sheer cliffs surrounded the little cove, with no discernible track up them to find help. But he did not feel confident in himself to sail the ship out
into the sea. Also, he had absolutely no idea where they were: on Tillek's coast or the bleak western end of High Reaches, or if they'd been blown further down the coast of Fort.
He gave them both another day and, when that dawn rose frostily clear and even klah gave him no warmth, he roused her to give him what instructions she could from the bunk.
'If I leave the hatch open, can you see enough to tell me if I'm doing anything wrong?' he pleaded with her when she seemed unable to grasp his concern. They had little food left, almost no charcoal, and without that small heat to warm the cabin they would surely freeze in the night.
'They'll come. Search,' she murmured.
'They won't see us. We've got to stand out to sea where the sail will be visible.'
'You're able for that, Rob,' she said with the hint of a smile.
'You can do more than you think you can.'
'Then so can you,' he said bluntly, fear driving him.
She shook her head sadly and closed her eyes again.
He watched her, thinking how valiantly she had fought the storm. But now the storm was over and she looked to him, her spouse, to keep his promise to care for her. Only he hadn't thought he'd be put to such a test quite this soon.
'All right, if that's the way it's to be, I'll just have to do.'
With fear making his feet heavier, he thudded up on deck. The surrounding cliffs had an ominous look about
