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THE STORM

The weather had worsened in the past thirty minutes. The ketch sailed strongly and steadily into the channel and the waves increased in size as they went. Now they were so large that the ketch couldn't skip from one crest to the next. As it reached a crest the prow pitched forward and headed into the trough before lurching up the other side. Each time it headed up it shuddered and water broke across its bows to stream back towards them in the well.

At the beginning, the motion had been exhilarating but the waves had increased to a size that John had not seen before, certainly not at this eye level. The waves encompassed their world: there was nothing else to be seen. It began to rain but even without rain, wind-driven spray filled the air. He began to feel a little afraid. It wasn't the fear of doing something badly. It was the deeper fear of having no control in the middle of forces that were letting them be for a moment only because they were insignificant. He hated not having control over his destiny.

Barbara and he, and Talbot, went down to the main cabin leaving Bob and Brian to sail the boat. It was hot and uncomfortable. John had to brace himself between the table and the bulkhead but he couldn't forecast when the boat would spill over the next wave or lurch upwards. There was no horizon. Vaguely at the back of his mind he remembered old Pritchard lecturing in dynamics at the University a boat can pitch, roll, and yaw. Right now his stomach was doing all three. His brow was cold and wet with sweat.

Neither Barbara nor Talbot seemed to be affected by the motion. She was curled up on the lounge bunk with her feet braced against the side and her back lodged against the cushions in the corner. Talbot was standing, leaning on his hands against the end of the bunk, with his feet apart riding the motion of the boat.

John felt the sweat on his brow and couldn't distinguish between jealousy and seasickness. He said, "How are you managing to look so comfortable, Barbara? What's the secret? Did you take seasickness tablets this morning or something?"

As he spoke he realized how desperate he sounded and how badly this must contrast to someone who was standing casually by, balancing easily on his feet, and cracking jokes.

Still, Barbara's smile was one usually reserved for him when she replied, "Don't fight it, John. We're trying hard not to think about anything but conversation, and it's working a little. I'm not quite as calm as I'm trying to appear."

He couldn't

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