The Ghostfaces by John A. Flanagan Read Free Book Online Page A

was. Seawater would only make their raging thirst feel worse.
    â€œMaybe it’ll rain,” Wulf said hopefully.
    â€œMaybe it won’t,” Ulf replied.
    Another night passed. The wind remained constant and
Heron
continued to speed westward. The rising sun the following morning seared their eyes with its red glow. Slowly, it rose up the eastern sky. Once again, Hal was concerned to see how high it sat in the sky before beginning its descent once more.
    â€œBear left!” Jesper was in the bow, keeping a lookout.
    His sudden shout roused Hal, and he realized, guiltily, that he had actually dozed off at the tiller. Now, with Jesper’s warning, he shoved the tiller bar over and the ship swung instantly to the left. A black mass passed down the starboard side—long and shining wet, almost submerged, with a crooked branch sticking up into the air. A dead tree trunk, he realized, watching it dully. Had they hit it at the speed they were traveling, they could have shattered
Heron
’s bow.
    Might have been a good thing, he thought. At least that way, they’d get it over quickly, without the lingering agony of thirst and the unbelievable weariness they were all feeling.
    He sank back into his lethargy. He realized now that he had been wrong. There was no land to the west. This ocean really was endless and they would sail on into it until they were dried-out husks hunched over in the ship. A ghost ship with a crew of dead men—and one woman, he amended.
    Lydia had felt the sudden alteration in the
Heron
’s course. So had the others, but none of them were alert enough to be bothered commenting on it.
    â€œWhat was that?” she asked. Although with the dryness of her mouth and thickening of her tongue, the words came out sounding more like “Wha’ wa’ tha’?”
    Hal shrugged. “Just a tree trunk,” he said, his tone showing his total disinterest in the matter. “Nearly hit it.”
    Lydia frowned. She sensed there was something significant here, but she couldn’t figure what it was. She pushed her brain to think, but it responded slowly and ponderously. Thinking was hard work. It was easier not to think. Probably better not to think, as well. When she expended energy thinking, all she thought of was water. Finally, a small light of intelligence burned in the back of her mind.
    â€œWhere did it come from?” she asked.
    Hal glanced at her dully, a little annoyed to be roused from the torpor that was creeping over him. Now he had to think, to work out what she was asking. Where did what come from? And what did it matter, in any event?
    â€œWhat?” he asked eventually, realizing that she was going to insist on an answer.
    Lydia waved a weary hand at the sea over the side.
    â€œThe tree trunk. We nearly hit it,” she reminded him. She was irritable in her turn, thinking that Hal was being intentionally annoying.
    â€œI know that,” he replied.
    She gestured angrily at him once more. “So where did it come from?”
    â€œUp for’ard,” he replied tartly. “Nearly hit our starboard bow. Would have sunk us in all likelihood.”
    She glared at him, wondering how he could be so dense. He was usually quite intelligent, she thought.
    â€œI mean, where did it come from? It was a tree. A tree has to grow somewhere before it falls into the sea.”
    â€œWell, how the blazes would I know where it grew? I’m not an expert on—” He suddenly stopped, as the import of what she was saying struck him like a battering ram. His mouth hung open for a few seconds. “It was a tree,” he said eventually.
    â€œI think we’ve established that,” Lydia replied.
    He waved his hands defensively. “But you’re right. It had to grow somewhere. Trees don’t just appear in the middle of the ocean. It had to come from land. An island. Or something bigger.”
    He lashed the tiller in place and