A Hero for Leanda

to read.
    In the late afternoon the wind backed to the southeast, and strengthened, and the idling yacht suddenly came to life. For the first time in all the hundreds of miles since Mombasa she was sailing free in a fresh breeze and she fairly raced through the water. The calm sea quickly became choppy. Leanda abandoned her reading and restowed some things that were banging about in one of the lockers. Conway , thinking they might be in for a real blow, called to her to have a look at the barometer, but she reported that it was steady. For a while he watched the waves surging against the hull and wondered if he would have to take in a reef. Spray was beginning to shoot up over the bows as the yacht dipped in the shallow troughs. Kastella looked back, grinning, and waved. Suddenly the boat dipped into a steeper trough than usual, and Kastella grabbed hold of the pulpit as a considerable weight of water swept over the foredeck.
    Conway called, “Better come down, Kastella!”
    Kastella waved again, but didn’t move.
    Conway shouted, “Kastella!—come down!” A gust caught the sail, and Thalia heeled sharply. A fresh torrent of water shot over the bows. After a moment, Kastella got up and slowly made his way to the cockpit.
    “You take your time, don’t you?” Conway said.
    Kastella looked at him in surprise. “I was perfectly all right. There was no need to panic.”
    “Panic, my foot! Some seas are bigger than others, that’s all—and they don’t ring a bell when they’re coming. You’re perishable cargo, and it’s my job to look after you.”
    “I appreciate your concern,” Kastella said, “but it really isn’t necessary. I’m not a child, you know.” He glanced at Leanda, and smiled, and went below.
    Leanda looked unhappily at Conway . “Mike, you don’t have to be so short-tempered. I’m sure he was all right.”
    “Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t,” Conway said. “Anyway, that’s not the point.”

    They had a fine sail through the night and by dawn next morning they were nearly two hundred miles from Port Edward—but now the fickle weather changed once more. The wind died completely, and the sea quickly subsided. By noon it was as smooth as oiled silk. Thalia’s log line hung straight down in the translucent water. Sea and sky merged in a haze of heat. The deck became uncomfortable for bare feet. Conway tapped the glass again— and made a face. Presently he furled the sails, and rigged an awning over the cockpit.
    Kastella said, “Why don’t we use the engine?”
    “I want to save our fuel,” Conway told him.
    “But surely this is just the time to use it. Every day is important to me, Conway—and not only to me. We must get on.”
    “Look,” Conway said, “we’ve eight hundred miles to go and we’ve fuel for about four hundred miles, so we can’t motor all the way. If we use it up now, we won’t have it later when we may need it more. At the moment, I prefer to wait for wind.”
    “It may be a long wait,” Kastella said.
    “It won’t be. The glass has fallen a tenth, and that’s a lot for these parts. By tonight there’ll be more wind than we want.”
    “Then isn’t that another reason for making steady progress while we can?”
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop arguing!” Conway burst out. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
    The afternoon was grilling. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, turning the motionless ship into an oven. Sleep, Conway discovered, was impossible. The moment he lay down in the stifling cabin he was in a bath of sweat. The drinking water, which Leanda was making in far greater quantities than ever before, was too warm to quench thirst properly. The air was leaden. Even Leanda, who usually contrived to look cool, was wilting visibly.
    Around three, she suddenly said, “Mike, will you come and swim with me?”
    Conway grinned. “With you and the sharks?”
    “It’ll be safe enough if we splash. Just round the ship.” He hesitated. “It’s certainly an attractive idea... Kastella said, “I think it’s a splendid idea.... Come on, Leanda, get your things off.” Pie added something in their own language, which made her flush and smile a little.
    Conway said curtly, “You two go. I’ll keep watch.”
    “Oh, come on, Mike,” Leanda coaxed him. She had already slipped off her light clothes and substituted an exiguous swim suit. “Just for a few minutes.”
    “I’d sooner stay and watch,” he said. “You carry on—but