"David Eddings - The Dreamers 01 - The Elder gods" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

sideways toward the northeast. First Mate Ox fought with the tiller, bending it almost
to the breaking point. ‘We’re in trouble, Cap’n!’ he shouted. ‘A current just grabbed
us!’

‘Oarsmen to your posts!’ Hook-Beak shouted even as Ham-Hand started
bellowing, ‘Slack sail!’

There was a great deal of scrambling about, but nothing seemed to have any effect.
‘It’s no good, Cap’n!’ Ox cried. ‘It’s got us, and it won’t let go. The tiller’s gone
slack!’

‘Maybe it’ll slow down when the tide changes,’ Ham-Hand suggested hopefully.

‘I wouldn’t make no big wagers on it,’ Ox replied, working the tiller back and
forth to get the feel of the current. ‘This one’s moving faster than any current I’ve
ever come up against. I don’t think the tide’s got much to do with it. The seasons
might, but it’s a long time ‘till autumn, and we could end up a thousand leagues from
home afore winter gets here.’

‘We’re making purty good time, though,’ Ham-Hand noted.

‘Are you trying to be funny?’ Ox demanded angrily.

‘I just thought I’d mention it,’ Ham-Hand replied. ‘You want I should tell the
oarsmen to stand down, Cap’n?’

‘No. Have them swing her so that she’s going bow-first. If she keeps going
sideways like this, a good ripple could swamp her. Then have the oarsmen ship their
oars, but keep them in place. If we swirl in behind an island or a reef, I’ll want them
to dig in and pull us clear.’

‘Aye, Cap’n, if that’s the way you want it,’ Ham-Hand replied, tugging his
forelock in a salute of sorts.



It didn’t happen that way, though. The Seagull continued to fly in a northeasterly
direction for the next several days, moving farther and farther into unknown waters.
The crew was growing more apprehensive as the days slid past. They’d been out of
sight of land for more than two weeks now, and some tired old stories involving sea-
monsters, the edge of the world, demons, and vast whirlpools began to surface. Ox
and Ham-Hand tried to stifle those stories, but they weren’t very successful.

Then on one bright summer afternoon, the current slowed without any warning,
and then it stopped, leaving the Seagull placidly sitting on a flat, empty sea.

‘What’s our plan, Cap’n?’ Ham-Hand asked.

‘I’m working on it,’ Sorgan replied. ‘Don’t rush me.’ He looked at Ox. ‘How
much water have we got left?’ he demanded.