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

‘Take the wheel, and let's see what you’re made of.’
    At first, it was easy. The adjustments had already been made and Twig merely had to grip the wooden wheel to hold a steady course. But when a sudden gust from the north-east caused the ship to dip, the task suddenly became more complicated.

    ‘Up the medium starboard hull-weight,’ the captain instructed. Twig panicked. Which lever was it? The eighth or the ninth from the left? He grasped the ninth and yanked. The Stormchaser tipped to one side. ‘Not that much!’ Cloud Wolf snapped. ‘Up the staysail a tad and down the large port hull-weight … The port hull-weight, you idiot!’ he roared, as the sky ship tipped over still further.
    Twig yelped with terror. He was going to crash the boat. At this rate, his first attempt at skysailing would also be his last. He clung on to the helm grimly – brain feverish, hands shaking, heart thumping fit to burst. He mustn’t let his father down. Pulling himself forwards, he seized the ninth lever for a second time. This time he moved it gently, downing the weight only a couple of notches.
    And it worked! The boat righted itself.
    ‘Good,’ the captain said. ‘You’re developing the touch. Now, up the skysail,’ he instructed. ‘Down the prow-weight a fraction, realign the small and medium starboard hull-weights and…’
    ‘League ship to starboard!’ Spiker's strident voice cried out. ‘League ship to starboard – and approaching fast.’
    The words echoed round Twig's head. He felt short of breath; he felt sick. The rows of levers blurred before his eyes. One of them would almost certainly make the sky ship accelerate forwards – but which one? ‘League ship getting closer,’ Spiker announced. And Twig, in his blind panic, broke the first rule of sky ship sailing. He let go of the helm.
    The wheel spun back viciously the moment his sweaty hands loosened their grip, sending him skittering across the deck. Instantly, the sails crumpled, and the Stormchaser went into a sudden spinning descent.

    ‘You halfwit!’ Cloud Wolf roared. He seized the wheel and, bracing himself against the deck, frantically tried to stop it turning. ‘Hubble!’ he bellowed. ‘Here. Now!’
    Twig was just stumbling back to his feet when Hubble brushed past him. It was only the most glancing of blows, but the albino banderbear was a colossal mountain of a creature – and Twig went flying.
    The next moment, the spinning stopped. Twig looked up. The wheel was clasped, motionless, in the banderbear's massive paws. And the captain, freed up at last, was running his hands over the levers – now here, now there – as surely as an accordion-player darting over the keys.
    ‘League ship, one hundred strides and closing,’ called Spiker. The captain's silent playing continued. ‘Fifty strides! Forty…’
    All at once, the Stormchaser leapt forwards. The crew roared their approval. Twig staggered to his feet at last, muttering heartfelt thanks to Sky above. They’d made it.
    Then Cloud Wolf spoke. ‘There's something wrong!’ he said quietly.
    Wrong? thought Twig. What could be wrong? Hadn’t they escaped with their illicit cargo of ironwood after all? He squinted behind him. Yes, there was the league ship, miles away!
    ‘Something very wrong,’ he said. ‘We’ve got no lift.’
    Twig stared at Cloud Wolf in horror. His stomach felt empty. Was this some kind of joke? Had he chosen this moment to tease him like a father? One look at the man's ashen face as he jiggled, jerked and yanked at a lever with more and more force confirmed that he had not.
    ‘It's … it's the bl … blasted stern-weight,’ he spluttered. ‘It's jammed.’
    ‘League ship gaining once more,’ Spiker called out. ‘And from the flag I’d say the Leaguesmaster himself was on board.’
    Cloud Wolf spun round. ‘Hubble,’ he said, but thenhad second thoughts. The massive creature was ill-suited to clambering over the hull. As were Tem Barkwater and