expected, water rushed through the gaps between those planks, the flow would press the canvas up against the hull, where the fabric would at least slow it. He might have to re-beach the Paragon, with that side up, for extended chinking and caulking on that planking. He hoped not, but was resigned to do whatever he must to make the ship seaworthy.
He heard a light step on the sand behind him. He turned to find Althea squinting out to the barge. She nodded when she saw the man on watch there. He jumped when she patted his shoulder. 'Don't be so worried, Brash. It will all come together.'
'Or it won't,' he muttered sourly in reply. Her touch and reassurance, the affectionate shortening of his name, startled him. Of late, it seemed to him that they were resuming the casual familiarity of shipmates. She at least met his eyes when she spoke to him. It had made the work situation more comfortable. Like himself, she probably realized that this voyage would demand their co-operation. It was no more than that. He resolutely quenched the brief spark of hope that had kindled. He kept the conversation centered on the ship.
'Where do you want to be for this?' he asked her. It had been agreed that Amber would stay near Paragon and talk him through it. She had the most patience with him.
'Where do you want me?' Althea asked humbly.
He hesitated, biting his tongue. 'I'd like you belowdecks. You know what trouble looks like and sounds like before it becomes a disaster. I know you'd rather watch from up here, but I'd like to have someone I trust down below. The men I put on the pumps have muscle and endurance, but not much sea time. Or wits. I've got a few hands down there with mallets and oakum. You move them around as you see fit as he starts to take on water. They seem to know their business, but watch them and keep them working. I'd like you moving around down there, looking and listening and letting me know how we're doing.'
'I'm there,' she assured him quietly. She turned to go.
'Althea,' he heard himself say aloud.
She turned back immediately. 'Was there something else?'
He ransacked his mind for something intelligent to say. All he wanted to ask her was if she had changed her mind about him. 'Good luck,' he said lamely.
'To us all,' she replied gravely, and left.
An incoming wave ran up across the sand. The white foam at the edge of it lapped against the hull. Brashen took a deep breath. This was it. The next few hours would tell all. 'Everyone, get to your places!' he barked. He twisted his head and looked up at the top of the cliffs above the beach. Clef nodded that he was paying attention. He held two flags at the ready. 'Signal them to start taking up the slack. But not too much.'
Out on the barge, the men at the turnstile leaned into their work. Someone took up a slow-paced chantey. The rough music of the men's deep voices reached to him over the water. Despite all his reservations, a grim smile broke out on his face and he took a deep breath. 'Back to sea with us, Paragon. Here we go.'
EACH INCOMING WAVE WASHED CLOSER TO HIM. HE COULD HEAR IT. HE could even smell the water coming closer. They had shoved him down and weighted him and now they would let the waves swallow him up. Oh, he knew what they said, that they were going to re-float him. But he didn't believe them. He knew this was his punishment, coming at last. They would weight him down and pull him out under the water and then they would leave him there for the serpents to find. It was, after all, what he deserved. The Ludluck family had waited a long time, but they would finally take their vengeance today. They would send his bones to the bottom, just as he had done to their kin.
'You're going to die, too,' he said with satisfaction. Amber perched like a sea-bird on his cockeyed railing. She had told him, over and over, that she was going to stay with him through the whole thing. That she wouldn't leave him, that everything was going to be fine. She'd find out. When the water finally rushed over them and pulled her down, too, she would found out how wrong she had been.
'Did you say something, Paragon?' she asked him courteously.
'No.' He crossed his arms on his chest again and held them tightly against his body. He could feel water the full length of his hull now. The waves pushed at the sand under him like little tunneling insects. The ocean worked its greedy fingers up under him. Each wave that brushed him was a tiny bit deeper. He felt the rope from his mast to the barge grow tighter. Brashen shouted something, and the pressure steadied but did not increase. The men's work song stilled. Inside him, Althea called out in a carrying voice, 'So far, so good!'
The water crept under him. He shivered suddenly. The next wave might lift him. No. It came and went and he still rested on the sand. The next one, then. No. Well, then, the next… Wave after wave came and went. He was in an agony of anticipation and fear. Despite all his expectations, when he first felt that tiny bit of lift, the grating of hull against sand as he floated for a fraction of a second, he whooped in surprise.
He felt Amber tighten her grip convulsively. 'Paragon! Are you all right?' she called out in alarm.
Suddenly, he had no time for her fears. 'Hang on!' he warned her jubilantly. 'Here we go!' But wave after wave kissed against him and Brashen did nothing. Paragon could feel the sand shifting under him as the sea ate at it. He felt, too, a great stone revealed by the retreating sand.
'Brashen!' he called out in annoyance. 'Get onto it, man! I'm ready! Tighten that line! Have them put their backs into it!'
He heard the heavy sound of splashing. Brashen ran up to him, through licking waves that must be thigh- high on the man by now. 'Not yet, Paragon. It's not quite deep enough yet.'
'Cark you if it isn't! Do you think I'm so stupid I don't know when I'm floating? I can feel myself starting to lift on every wave, and there's a damn big rock under me. If you don't start moving me down the sand I'm going to be pounding up and down against it soon.'
'Easy, then. Don't get excited, I'll take your word for it! Clef! Signal them to get started. Slow and easy now!'
'Screw that! Tell them to put their backs into it now!' Paragon countermanded Brashen's order. 'You hear me, Clef?' he bellowed when no one made any response. They had damn well better be listening to him, he thought savagely. He was tired of them treating him like a child.
The line on his mast stub tightened with an abruptness that made him grunt.
'Heave!' Brashen shouted, and the men with the levers strained against them. They rocked him up, but not quite enough. Once he started moving, he was supposed to tip forward onto a roller wedged under his hull. They would have been smarter to haul it out of there. Now it was only going to act as a wedge.
'HEAVE!' Brashen shouted as the next wave peaked. Suddenly he bumped up and onto the roller. 'TIGHTEN THAT LINE!' Paragon felt Brashen scramble aboard him. Suddenly he was moving, sliding down the beach, deeper and deeper into the incoming water. It was cold, ghastly cold after his years of lying out in the sun, and he gasped with the shock of it.
'Steady. Steady. It's going to be all right. Take it easy. They'll right you as soon as the water is deep enough. Hang on. It's going to be all right.'
From inside him, he heard Althea call, 'We're making water, but I think we're under control. You, get onto that pump! Don't wait for it to fill up, do it now!'
He felt the thudding of mallets inside him as someone packed oakum into a seam that had opened. Althea's raised voice indicated they weren't doing it fast enough to suit her. He was sliding, sliding on his side down the beach, into ever-deeper water. Now as each wave hit him, he rocked. Both design and his own instinct tried to bring him upright, but the damn counterweight on his mast was holding him over.
'Cut the weight loose! Let me come upright!' he bellowed angrily.
'Not yet, lad. Not quite yet. Just a bit more. I've set a buoy, and as soon as we're past it, I'll know your keel will clear. Steady now, steady.'
'Let me up!' Paragon shouted, and this time he could not keep a note of fear out of his voice.
'Soon. Trust me, lad. Just a bit further.'
In his years ashore, he had almost become accustomed to his blindness. But it was one thing to lie immobile and see nothing. It was quite another to suddenly be in motion, on the breast of the unpredictable sea once more, and to have no idea where he was or what was near him. A driftwood log could pound against him, an unseen rock could hole him, and he would have no warning until it happened. Why wouldn't they let him come upright?
'All right, let it go!' Brashen suddenly yelled. The line that had been attached to the counterweight was
