"Bud Sparhawk - Primrose and Thorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sparhawk Bud)

Louella checked the instruments. "As far as I can see we are straightening out our track somewhat. At
least we aren't curving more."

"I hope that means we aren't getting sucked in. How big do you think this storm is?"

"No telling. I don't know how they scale these storms up here. Back home this would be called a
one-million year storm, I'm certain. It's a monster!"

Another gust hit them on the side. Louella threw the switch to lower the keel, and their center of gravity,
to give them some more stability. It was all that she could do.



The remnants of the aft sail blew away during Pascal's watch. The rocking of the boat stopped as it
drifted with the wind. Since he now had no control over Thorn, he lashed the wheel in place and crawled
into the sail locker. The only way they had of restoring some measure of control to the boat was to get
another sail up.

The locker was a mess. The big specialty main that Louella had ordered for the finishing run had broken
loose of its restraints and had swept the mountings clean off the deck. Bits of broken metal and plastic
tie-downs were everywhere. A large dent on the bulkhead showed where the big sail had struck before it
finally wedged itself behind the canisters.

Pascal stumbled over the wreckage and selected one of the smaller sails. He undid the lashings, trying to
maintain his balance against the pitching motion of the boat. As he worked he kept a wary eye on the
huge mainsail in case it began to roll his way.

Twice the boat moved unexpectedly and threw him against the stowed sails, smashing their blunt edges
into his chest and back. He knew that he'd have massive bruises to show for it.

Finally, he secured the winch to the sail head and locked the cables in place. He braced himself between
the sail and the bulkhead, using the pressure of his legs to hold himself in position and began the torturous
process of ratcheting the sail into place. It took all of his energy to move it the last few centimeters.

Louella was awake and in the helmsman's seat when he poked his head out of the tube. "Sail ready?" she
asked calmly, as if nothing was amiss.

Pascal nodded. "Aft mast, small set," he said quickly, thankful that she had not made an issue of his
reckless actions. She was all cool control and professional when the race was on. "Brace yourself," she
warned as she reached for the controls. "Release!" She threw the hoist switches to raise the sail as Pascal
tightened the straps to hold him in the bunk.

Louella spun the wheel to bring the boat directly into the wind. The wind caught the edge of the new sail
and pulled it the rest of the way out.
Louella adjusted the traveler. The wind filled the sail, throwing Thorn at a sharp angle. The boat heeled
precariously and then leaped forward with a force that snapped Louella's head back against the headrest.
She managed the trim of the sail, a matter more of feel than science, until the boat was riding steadily
downwind, making steady progress. Thorn rode safely and secure in the teeth of the storm.

"That's the right thing to do," she said softly to the exhausted Pascal. "Good going, partner."