Stormchaser by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell Read Free Book Online Page A

it possibly could be.
    Afterwards, to celebrate, Cloud Wolf had cracked open a barrel of woodgrog and handed round tots of the fiery liquid to each member of his motley crew. ‘To a job well done,’ he proclaimed.
    ‘A job well done!’ the sky pirates roared back.
    Tem Barkwater, a hairy giant of an individual, slapped Twig on the back and squeezed his shoulder. ‘Without this lad's knowledge of the Deepwoods folk, we would never have got the wood at such a price,’ he said and raised his glass. ‘To Twig!’

    ‘To Twig!’ the sky pirates chorused.
    Even Slyvo Spleethe the quartermaster, who seldom had a good word to say to anyone, spoke generously. ‘He did indeed do well,’ he conceded.
    Only one person failed to join in the congratulations: Cloud Wolf himself. In fact, when Tem Barkwater had proposed his toast, the captain had turned away abruptly and returned to the helm. Twig understood why. None of the crew knew that he was Cloud Wolf's son. To avoid any accusations of favouritism, the captain preferred it that way. Accordingly, he treated the lad more harshly than the other crew members and never betrayed any affection he might feel.
    Understanding the reason for Cloud Wolf's surliness was one thing. Liking it, however, was another. Every slight, every injustice, every harsh word cut Twig to the quick and left him feeling that his father was ashamed of him. Swallowing his pride now, Twig joined Cloud Wolf on the bridge.
    ‘When do you think we’ll be back?’ he asked tentatively.
    ‘Nightfall,’ said Cloud Wolf, as he locked the wheel and made minute adjustments to the hanging weights. ‘If the winds remain favourable, that is.’
    Twig watched his father in awe. Sky ships were notor-iously difficult to sail, yet to Cloud Wolf it came as second nature. He understood his ship as though it was a part of him. Having heard the caterbird's story, Twig knew why. ‘I guess you learned all about sky sailing and … and stormchasing in the Knights’ Academy…’
    Cloud Wolf turned and stared at him curiously. ‘Whatdo you know about the Knights’ Academy?’ he demanded.
    ‘N…nothing much,’ Twig faltered. ‘But the caterbird told me…’
    ‘Pfff!’ Cloud Wolf said dismissively. ‘That scraggy blabbermouth! It is better to live in the present than dwell on the past,’ he said sharply. And then, clearly eager to change the subject, he added, ‘It's high time you learned the rudiments of skysailing.’
    Twig's heart fluttered. He had been with the sky pirates now for more than two years. Like them, he wore one of the heavy pirate longcoats with its numerous hanging accoutrements – the telescope, the grappling iron, the compass and scales, the drinking vessel … Like them, his front was protected by an ornately tooled leather breastshield, while on his back was a set of parawings. In all that time, however, Twig's duties on board had been restricted to the most menial of tasks. He scrubbed. He cleaned. He was the all-purpose gofer. Now, it seemed, that was to change.
    ‘The flight-rock, when cold, gives us natural lift,’ Cloud Wolf explained. ‘Balance, forward thrust and manoeuvring have to be achieved manually. Through these,’ he said, and pointed to two long rows of bone-handled levers, each set at a different angle.
    Twig nodded keenly.
    ‘These levers here are connected to the hanging weights,’ he said. ‘The stern-weight, prow-weight, starboard hull-weights, small, medium and large; port hull-weights, ditto, mid-hull, peri-hull, neben-hull, andklute-hull-weights…’ he said, rattling off the names. ‘And these levers on the other side are attached to the sails. Foresail, aftsail, topsail,’ he said, tapping the levers, each in turn. ‘Mainsails – one and two – skysail, staysail, studsail, boomsail, spinnaker and jib. Got that? It's just a matter of keeping everything in balance.’
    Twig nodded uncertainly. Cloud Wolf stood back. ‘Come on then,’ he said gruffly.