Read Ripples in the Sand (The Sea Witch Voyages) for Free Online Page B

consciousness. The grate of shingle upon the shore, the ssshush, ssshush , of the waves.
    ~ He is mine. I shhh…all have him! Jessssshh…a…miah ~
    Tethys!
    Aware of each nuance of energy that bound and contained every single, tiny particle of the Universe Tiola recognised the hatred that consumed the elemental goddess of the oceans. Tethys, the soul, the spirit of the depths. Felt the violence of that hatred slam into her brain and course through every fibre of her body.
    He is mine, Witch Woman! Mine!
    Sea Witch slid through a deep trough then hit the next oncoming wave hard, as if she were slamming into a wall of rock. Her stern lifted high towards the grey-clad, cloud-filled sky, her jib-boom submerging in the froth of white, boiling water, that pointing finger no longer indicating the land ahead, but casting downward into the foam of the surging tide. The ship shuddered, unable to free herself. Her timbers creaked in protest, sounding as if they were about to split open from the strain, the unease juddering from bowsprit to rudder, shivering through planking and joists, deck, bulkheads and beams. A maelstrom of spray fountained up and over the bow, reaching out towards Tiola, to ensnare her and drag her into the water world realm where Tethys ruled supreme.
    Tiola flung up her arm, the last remaining spark of energy flying from her fingertips to form a shield of light that swept in a circle around her body. Aware of the shouts and cries of alarm behind her, Tiola could do nothing except maintain her own protection. This was for the ship to battle on her own, aided by the skill of her crew. There was nothing Tiola could do to help. Nothing. She did not have the energy, no longer possessed enough power.
     

Six

    “What the…?” Jesamiah grabbed at the edge of the table as the sound of an impact boomed through the oak timbers of his ship. Everything slid from the table to the floor, glasses, cups, Jennings’ hat and cloak. The cushions from the locker seats. Even the chair he was sitting on began to slide forward across the square of worn carpet. Sea Witch shuddered, all her carried weight moving as she plunged downward, her stern soaring high, hanging there suspended. Jesamiah grasped an overhead beam, almost toppled forward as he let go, heading towards the door.
    Jennings was still seated, hands gripping the arms of the chair, face ash pale, alarm swamping his expression. “My god! We’ve hit something!”
    Jesamiah was at the door, his feet skidding on the slope of the wood. The sound of men running up from below to reach the open deck, their voices rising in panic. When a ship hit, she could go down in seconds.
    His hands feeding along the bulkheads to steady himself, Jesamiah ran also. On deck everything was confusion. Bewildered men clinging to backstays and shrouds, peering up the masts, over the rails. Every stay and shroud was vibrating and quivering as the strain tightened; masts and rigging close to breaking point. The gun trucks pulled at their tethers, balls rolled for’ard. Anything that was loose tumbling and toppling. Rue and Roberts together at the helm were struggling to hold onto the ship. One crewman lost his footing. He slid along the deck, frantically attempting to grasp at something but there was nothing to stop his fall; the deck was too wet, the angle too steep. With a cry of terror he was gone. There was nothing they could do to save him, save pray for his soul.
    The downward plunge eased, and slowly, slowly, the bow began to come up. There was a half-hearted cheer, men scrabbled to make ready to lower the boats – their only hope of survival.
    “Belay that!” Jesamiah roared as he hurried forward, reaching hand over hand to anything he could hold on to. “We ain’t sinking.”
    The sea loomed over the bowsprit seeming to be wanting to swallow his ship whole. The wave hung there a moment, then spray descended in a slow cascade, as slowly, slowly, Sea Witch righted herself, but