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

clambered awkwardly onto the bulwark, holding on to the backstay for balance. Even as he did so, he realized how badly he had been affected by dehydration. Normally, he would have sprung lightly onto the railing. Today, he struggled to make it. But he shielded his eyes and peered ahead into the gathering gloom, hoping against hope that he might see land.
    â€œWell?” said Lydia expectantly.
    He shook his head, downcast. “Nothing but the sea,” he told her.
    She frowned. “But it must have come from somewhere,” she insisted. He climbed stiffly down from the railing and took the tiller again.
    Thorn, who had noticed the little scene being played out, walked aft to join them. “What is it?” he asked.
    â€œThere was a tree,” Hal told him. “It came out of nowhere and drifted past us.”
    Thorn looked at the two of them. The meaning of Hal’s words wasn’t lost on him.
    â€œIf there was a tree, that means there’s land,” he said.
    â€œWe know,” Lydia replied. “The question is, how far is it? And which direction?”
    â€œI guess we’ll have to wait for morning to find out,” Thorn said. “It’s getting too dark to see anything now.”
    Hal came to a decision. He called to Stig, who wearily made his way aft to join them. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
    â€œHow much water is left?” Hal asked him. Stig pursed his lips, then licked them, dry and cracked as they were. The very mention of water reminded him of how thirsty he was.
    â€œTwo or three liters,” he said. “Enough for two beakers each . . . maybe.”
    â€œDole it out,” Hal said.
    Stig looked at him in surprise. “All of it?”
    Hal nodded. “All of it. I’m sick and tired of having my mouth thick and parched. Let’s all have one decent drink. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to sight land.”
    Stig’s surprised look turned to doubt. He wondered whether Hal had lost his senses. “We are?”
    Hal nodded definitely. “We are.”
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    But they didn’t.
    Dawn found them swooping steadily across the heaving ocean, with no sign of land in any direction. Buoyed up by Hal’s unreasoning optimism, the crew had lined the bulwarks since first light,scanning the horizon ahead. Jesper clambered painfully up to the lookout position on the bow post. But even his keen eyes couldn’t see a trace of land.
    The memory of the night before, of the luxury of having one long, satisfying drink, was behind them now. They knew there was no more water, and with that knowledge, their mouths grew dry and tongues grew swollen once more. Speech was difficult, so for the most part they remained silent.
    They sat in the windward rowing well, downcast and dejected, heads lowered, shoulders hunched. The true enormity of their situation now faced them. But none of them begrudged Hal’s impetuous decision to drink the last of the water. Better to enjoy one last meaningful drink than to eke out the remaining few drops, they all thought.
    Such was the measure of their despair that none of them noticed the gull when it first landed on the tip of the yardarm, spreading its wings for balance before folding them neatly away and beginning to preen itself. It had been there for over ten minutes when it finally emitted a loud squawk and launched itself into the air, plunging almost immediately into the side of a wave to capture the fish that its keen eyes had seen just below the surface.
    It bobbed on the heaving ocean as it tossed the fish it had caught, turning it so it would be easier to swallow, then gulping it down.
    â€œIt’s a gull,” said Edvin.
    Lydia regarded him incuriously. “So?”
    He pointed at the bird as it shook itself. “A gull. Not an albatross or a frigate bird. They can fly hundreds of kilometers fromthe land—way out