A Hero for Leanda

“but it’ll be accurate enough for our needs. The course is 220. Anyway, all you can do at the moment is keep her as near the wind as she’ll sail.” Kastella nodded. “Where are we, roughly?”
    Conway glanced at the patent log. “By this evening,” he said, “we should be just coming up to the halfway mark. Five hundred miles to go.”

5

    From now on, Conway realized, life aboard Thalia was going to be dominated as much by Leanda’s hostility as by Kastella’s gun. She had already shown what she was capable of, and she might well be plotting more acts of sabotage. The first thing he did on leaving the tiller was to move all his charts and navigation tables, his sextant and chronometer and radio, to the lockers in the cockpit, where they would be constantly under the eye of Kastella or himself. Kastella nodded approvingly. Then he made some sandwiches and a flask of coffee to take out with him for his night watch. It would be easier, he decided , if both he and Kastella looked after their own requirements from now on. Leanda was evidently going to do nothing for them. Lying on her bunk, she seemed completely indifferent to everything that was going on. When Conway offered her coffee, she said “No thank you!” with frigid politeness. It was going to be, he thought, one hell of a trip! Presently he went into Kastella’s cabin and lay down there. The two ports were opaque with crusted salt and he could see neither water nor sky, but he could tell by Thalia’s slight heel and steady motion that Kastella was doing all right.
    As dusk fell, he went out into the cockpit to take over once more. The transfer, this time, was awkward. Kastella seemed reluctant to leave the tiller untended, but when Conway stepped forward to take it he jerked the gun and ordered him sharply to keep his distance. He was much more on edge, now that the light was failing, and Conway hadn’t much doubt why he’d decided against doing any night shifts. Their alliance was obviously going to be a very uneasy one. Conway told him quietly that the ship would be perfectly safe if he let everything go. Kastella moved back then, and as Thalia came up into the wind Conway took the tiller and sheet and soon brought her back on course. Kastella peered down into the lighted saloon and went cautiously below. Through the open door, Conway heard him telling Leanda to go into the forecabin while he prepared food for himself. He was clearly going to take no chances. Conway wondered how he’d manage these tricky maneuvers when the weather got bad. It would be a lot more difficult for him, then.
    The evening passed quietly. Kastella didn’t come out into the cockpit again, and around ten Conway heard him carefully locking the door of his cabin. Leanda moved around for a while in the saloon, and then she, too, went to bed. Conway settled down to his long night watch. It was peaceful and pleasant in the cockpit after all the excitement, and once more he felt glad to be alone. From time to time he ate a sandwich and drank some coffee. Occasionally a flying fish hit the sail and fell on the deck with a light plop. Nothing else happened. The wind continued to blow gently from the west all through the night. Conway watched for the first glow of dawn. As the sun came up astern of Thalia, Kastella appeared on deck, the gun crooked under his arm. He looked very cheerful. He glanced at the log, and gave a satisfied nod. They had clocked nearly forty miles during the night.
    The wind was still westerly, but light and safe. Conway , tired and aching after his twelve-hour shift, turned in immediately after breakfast, leaving Kastella in charge. Leanda, stubbornly neglecting all the chores, went up to her old place in the bows. For her, Kastella might not have existed. Kastella struggled along at the tiller as best he could, but the morning was nothing like as fruitful as the night had been. By noon, when Conway emerged, they had logged only twelve miles through the water, and some of that had been lost through drift and leeway.
    “You’re pinching her too much,” Conway said, watching Kastella’s efforts. “You’re trying to sail too near the wind .“
    “I’m trying to keep on course,” Kastella said.
    “I know, but it doesn’t help in the end—you only lose way. Try and keep her sails full.”
    Conway stayed for a while, supervising. Then he went below, and got some food, and did the neglected routine jobs. Afterward he spent a busy hour or two