THOTH & MORVEREN
The Akhet was a Merlin Rocket: a small, fourteen-foot wooden dinghy designed for racing. It was only built to carry two people – a skipper and a crewman – but could take up to four for recreational purposes if necessary. It certainly was not built for giant green dogs. Thoth yelped as the enormous canine threw himself onto the little boat, unstable with its centreboard up, causing it to lurch worryingly.
“Woah!” He yelled. “Cel, stop!”
It was the first time he’d addressed his friend’s familiar directly. Thoth didn’t seem to get along with familiars as a general rule – probably because they were too much like fairies. He quickly instructed the dog to stand in the middle of the boat, one front foot and one hind foot either side of the lifted centreboard, thereby balancing his weight perfectly. The Akhet had dropped a few inches in the water and was now riding lower than Thoth had ever seen but, amazingly, she held the weight and hadn’t capsized when Cel jumped in. Thoth let out a sigh of relief and told Tris to sit on the inner bench on the port side while he took the inner bench on the starboard side. In spite of Tris being a little bigger and broader, to the boat they weighed almost the same, and with Celidon stood in the middle she balanced perfectly in the water. Morveren didn’t seem to weigh enough to make any difference.
This wasn’t really the best time to be teaching Tris how to sail, and Thoth felt a twinge of regret at not bringing his friend out on his boat before now. Tris had hinted in the past that he’d like to, but it always seemed to slip Thoth’s mind and the prince was usually hunting or training whenever Thoth went sailing. He took hold of one of the mast’s rope and tugged on it, causing the main sail to shoot up a little with a soft vroom sound.
“This is the main sail, and this is the boon,” he knocked his knuckles against the thick metal pole which ran perpendicular from the mast at about head-height, then pointed to the smaller sail over the hull. “That’s the jib. See those two ropes? They’re the jib sheets – you’re in charge of them. Grab the sheet furthest from you and knock it into that grip, but don’t pull it too tight.” He gestured to the rope in question and pulled the main sail up a little higher, so that it was about half-way up the mast. It flapped violently in the wind, sending the boon swinging across the deck and forcing Thoth to duck out of its way. “You’re the crewman, so your job is to balance the boat – oi!”
Morveren, who had followed Cel on board, had apparently gotten bored of batting the dog’s tail across deck and had started chewing on one of the ropes attached to the mast. Thoth grabbed her by the tail and chucked her unceremoniously overboard. There was a wheee – splash, followed a moment later by a surprised spluttering sound and, almost immediately after, a squeal of delight. Morv splashed around the boat, creating little waves with her tail which knocked against them and made the Akhet rock worryingly in the water. Thoth checked the rope Tris had pulled was secure before speaking.
“You balance the boat against the wind,” he continued, as though nothing had happened. “Hang onto whatever you can and lean out when she tips. Lean in when she’s balanced. You’ll need to sit up there once we get going,” he pointed to the upper edge of the port side. “And when I tell you to, push the centreboard down. Cel – just stay there and don’t move.”
He checked the main sail and the jib one more time, before lowering the rudder into the water and pushing away from the dock. Pulling the boon taunt with using the ropes, he allowed just enough wind into the main sail to guide them out of the makeshift harbour before he started tugging the main sail up from half to full. After instructing Tris to drop the centreboard and tighten the jib sheet, he checked the wind against the little blue flag on top of the mast and clambered awkwardly over Cel in order to join Tris on the port side. Clearly, with a great green dog in the way, they wouldn’t be running any races. They were up and going in no time at all, sailing with astonishing speed considering the weight they were hauling. The Akhet was tipped gently in the water – Thoth didn’t allow the main sail to catch the full impact of the wind, since Tris was a first-timer – and they made good progress over the inky black water, which was only a little choppy.
Thoth checked their position and direction against Apeliotes Island, which loomed off to the side, and pulled a face. “We need to put a tack in – a turn in the water with the wind over the hull. When I tell you, release the jib sheet from the grip and secure the other jib sheet on the other side of the hull. Then move over onto the starboard side and lean out, but make sure you don’t get hit by the boon. Ready about!”
He kept his eye on the island, giving Tris enough time to get himself on order, before yelling “Lee-ho! Now!”
A tack was a less exciting manoeuvre than a gybe, but it was still pretty exhilarating – especially for a first-time crewman. Thoth kept control of the boon and the main sail while Tris controlled the jib, and they both swapped sides to starboard while the Akhet creaked and turned on the water. As he moved, he caught a glimpse of Morveren diving in and out of the sea like a dolphin, clearly racing the boat, and smiled. Out here, with the wind in his hair and the sea spray on his face – this was where he was meant to be. His familiar confirmed it.
“We’re going to sail round to the other side of the island and approach it from the ocean,” he explained to his friend. “And, in answer to your question from before, we’re going at this time when all the pirates will hopefully be asleep. Less of a chance of guards or lookouts. I’ve got gulls flying over the island, just in case, and they’ll let us know if they spot anyone.” He let the boon drop a little, allowing more wind into the sail, thereby lifting the starboard side out of the water and forcing them both to lean out further. Unbalancing the boat like this slowed it down in reality, but it gave the perception of speed to the sailors – half out of the water, pulling the ’Rocket down with all the strength of their stomach muscles, on the verge of capsizing… this was sailing at its most exciting. This was what sent adrenaline coursing through their veins, and was what made the sport so addictive. “I’ll slacken off the sail when we get close so we can make a quiet approach. But for now…” he shot Tris a grin and arched his back, dipping his head, upside-down, into the sea. After a second he jerked his head back up and shook it, sending a spray of water over his friend.
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