Cris nodded, sweat glistening on his forehead, and positioned himself to the left, his broad shoulders spanning the iron hatch. So far, they had faced large but not breaking waves. Dante screamed orders on the quarterdeck, his voice rising above the maniacal wind. The crew reefed the mainsails, and the jib soared. Canvas sheets and cordage writhed and twitched like kites. TheDawn Chaser'sspeed decreased by a knot, but the steering was lighter.
A massive wave rose, the blue hill coming straight at them.
"Brace yourself, brother. Here comes the first."
This one topped twenty feet. The bridge swung, a giant seesaw, bow plunging deep and ricocheting up toward the sky. Cris had a point. They rode the heaving breaths of Poseidon.
Pedro sought the smooth water. They passed the summit and gained a few degrees away from shore, from the canyon. He exhaled and cracked his knuckles, sore from the tight clasp on the handles.
Cris cleared his throat, his eyes sparkling like a child's. "After we clear your name, we should go away for a spell. It’s aways hot in Ilhéus. Do you remember the Bataclan? Best bawdy house in the world, not the prudish sort we have here."
The thought of a Brazilian city with more humidity than morals had the same appeal as letting the shadows consume him. For once, Pedro wanted to stay in one place, do other than war, other than destroy. "You should go."
Frowning, Cris stared at the ocean. "Do you have a better plan?"
A lull allowed him some respite, and he released the helm, rubbing his fingers. Numbness spread from the first knuckle to his wrist, but his arms hurt like a bitch. "My plan is to survive this night."
Through it all, Pedro steered. Cris brought coffee, and he gulped it down between waves. At some point, Dante offered to take his place, but he refused. The weight of Anne's life and everyone else's rested on his shoulders.
Cris gasped. "Are you seeing this?"
"Barely." His eyes were gritty as if salt had found a way inside.
An overblown wave billowed ahead—a massive glass wall streaked by white veins.
Leaning closer to the hatch, Pedro sucked in a breath. "Brother, if we can't reach the other side of this one, I want you to take Ana to the lifeboat."
"It is Ana now? What a sweet Portuguese endearment. What's next? You will forget who her brother is? You should see yourself. Drooling all over the floor she walks. Can't you see where this is going? Soon you will become obsessive, like when you wasted ten years to marry Julia."
"It is different with Anne."
"Different how?"
For Julia, Pedro had felt a platonic, pure emotion. For Anne, he felt a whole maelstrom of them. But that was not all. Unlike Julia, Anne wanted him in return. "She is our guest, and you will treat her with common courtesy."
"You won't listen, will you? It will be left to me to clean up your mess when this farce explodes in your face."
"You have my orders."
"You own my loyalty." Cris pointed his finger at Pedro's chest. "Not her."
Christ, didn't he realize this was not about loyalty? What was loyalty but an empty word compared to the generous angel aboard this ship? "If by loyalty you mean the debt from Mozambique, you owe me nothing."
"You won’t forget I left my post, will you?"
Pedro stared straight ahead, unable to face Cris. His brother was right. Pedro could not swallow it. Why had he not stayed at his bivouac that night? Straggling down the wharf, drunk, Cris had been easy prey.
"You should have let Ulrich cut my throat."
"I don't have time for your drama."
"And they say I am the bastard." Cris laughed bitterly and barreled out of the cabin.
Grinding his jaw, Pedro gazed ahead. The melted mountain neared, the summit rising endlessly. It grew, it swelled, it bulged. At the crest, so high as to overshadow theDawn Chaser, foam burst like powdered chalk.
The swell couldn't sustain such heights. This one would break, and them with it.
The roar was deafening. As the ocean rose, the current pulled them inexorably to the wave's hollow. Pedro steered leeward, searching for a smooth entry away from the breaking point. Wind swelled the rig and propelled them upward on the wave's wall. The gray giant was endless, the yacht but a speck. His legs tingled, and a knell clanged in his ears, obliterating other sounds.
