He opened his spyglass again and looked astern from the quarter deck. He could even make out the details of the dragon on the flag this time. He should have used a barque instead of his usual full-rigged, but the risk... and the masts wouldn't be reinforced. Using a barquentine like their pursuers would just make it impossible.
He closed the telescope with a rapid series of clacks and turned toward the helmsman. He was an unkept old man, he looked distracted as usual, looking around seemingly bored, but he was keeping the helm steady. The incessant roaring of the waterfall didn't seem to bother him at all. They've done it countless times, but he had no idea how he could be so calm.
They were still going as windward as their ship allowed, the clouds above them slowly getting lower and lower as they progressed forward.
"This is madness!" He turned toward the sailor, a man that had served in the navy for years under a friend of his "You're heading us straight to our doom!"
The man was pointing starboard, toward where the wind was coming from and where the water ended, the actual edge covered in clouds. Apparently being so close for the first time was making him panic.
"When I was a young sailor, I thought the same thing: madness. Yet my former captain did it countless times, and so did I for the last twenty years, after he taught me and I became captain. So stand down, we need every single man for this."
The man turned toward the nearing edge, staring worried at the end of the world.
John checked again the distance of their pursuers, then he noticed that the fast flowing clouds had finally lowered enough to cover half the main royal sail.
"Go to your station, it's time. Remember the instructions." he shouted while looking up, the roar already deafening.
He wanted to start the maneuver, but their pursuers were too close, so he waited for the clouds to cover half the sails.
Their pursuers would soon be at shooting distance, but thankfully they were still behind them and would need to turn. He just hoped she won't take too much damage, but now he had to focus.
He raised a hand to starboard, signing for the first step. The men moved to brail up the spanker, easing the wind pressure on her back and letting the wind on her front turn the ship. Then he lowered his hand and the sailors brailed up the jibs at the front and adjusted the sails' direction to ensure the wind from starboard won't push them on the side against the flowing current.
The ship continued forward, keeping the edge in place as the current moved them closer. Soon the clouds' descent sped up, so he waited two heartbeats and raised his hand straight. The sailors hoisted the jibs back and squared the mizzen sails on the back, and the helm turned aport, making the ship turn quickly, and once the wind was mostly from their back the flowing clouds stopped their descent. The course sails were the only ones below the clouds, while the royal sails on top were barely visible.
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He waited to double-check they were stable, not that he expected otherwise. The closer to the edge, the more the strong air current above would lower, speeding them away from it. Once sure, he turned toward their pursuers, just in time to see them disappear eaten by the clouds. He tipped his hat with his left hand, enemies as they were, they were all men of the sea.
He lowered his right hand, and they slowly turned the ship starboard. The increased tilt sped them up in their course along the edge, but also made them lose speed against the current, forcing them closer where their sail could catch more of the fast wind.
Eventually they reached the limit of what the ship could safely withstand, and everyone took a visible sigh of relief. It wasn't safe by any means, and they had to keep their positions, but now all they had to do was keep their course. By sunset they'd have gained a couple of days, and would be able to leave the edge for the night.
As he relaxed, a head appeared from the stairs below, her blonde hair flowing in the wind, her enraged face made him appreciate the deafening roar of the waterfall for the first time.
Her mouth moved as she poked a finger against his chest, and he couldn't help but snicker. Her eyes narrowed, and he pointed at his hands and then at the edge on his left.
She pointed at him, then she imitated a closed door with her hands, and lastly she pretended to turn a key. He shook his head and checked the clouds. The last thing he needed was the wife of his boss between his feet in a moment when every second could be fatal.
She pushed his shoulder and as he lowered his gaze, she slapped him in the face. She gestured: himself, his mouth, herself, herself, her eyes, the ship below them, turning.
Did he promise something? He doubted, but maybe to shut her up? Having a woman onboard was already going too far, but with her safety at stake, there wasn't much they could do.
His eye caught one of the braces up in the air, so he turned, and the damned woman grabbed him to try to turn him back. The braces of the main mast on the port side were missing, and his old friend was on the ground motionless.
John lunged at the helm and turned the ship leeward, as the ship aligned itself against the current the descent of the cloud slowed considerably, but it had already reached the deck he was standing on, and it didn't stop lowering. There was no time to try and fix one of the braces, he raised his hand aport, the men already adjusting the sails to the new direction of the wind.
Someone grabbed him tight from behind, his first instinct was to shake her away, but even if he rushed down to help, he wouldn't make it in time to turn the fore or mizzen sails, and someone needed to tend the helm. A few of the men started climbing the main mast in hope of grabbing one of the braces, but he doubted they'd make it in time.
He turned and signed to haul out the spanker and turn it to the side, in hope the additional sail would do something, or buy them the time they needed. He gripped the helm and waited, but as the spanker slammed to the side against the ropes that lead to the top of the mizzen mast, he adjusted the helm to keep the course, then returned waiting for the ship to tilt backward.
He waited longer.
And still nothing happened.
He turned, one of the sailors showing 33 with his fingers. 33 feet? The spanker did it? He sighed in relief and turned toward the men on the main mast, gripping the wet wood with arms and legs, and using the ropes to stay up against the wind. Everyone was holding their breaths, when another set of sails came loose, this time on the front mast.
He stared at the second traitor, and briefly he wondered how much they had offered his family, or if they had threatened them. The ship tilted backward, and he whispered wistfully against the all-encompassing roar "I'm sorry Peter. I couldn't protect her in the end."