And—Crack!
The hull slammed violently into a jagged rock that pierced through the watery wall. The impact made the ship bounce and flip over on itself; the crew was thrown into chaos. But with sharp reflexes and extraordinary presence of mind, Wylgol managed to grab hold of the helm as his crewmates began to tumble out of the vessel.
"Hold on, for God's sake!" the navigator thundered.
Bory, with his powerful hands, grabbed one of the mainmast ropes. "Rotten fish guts!" he cursed. The dozen rowers slammed against the gunwale—and clung to it with all the strength they had left.
Sassa, her waist secured by a rope, gasped as she slammed into the hull. The void opened beneath her feet, giving her a terrifying view of the interwoven reefs crisscrossing the azure chasm.
"Aaaah!" voices screamed around her.
Sassa looked up and saw, passing above her, the unfortunate souls who hadn't managed to hold on: Allan and Lurcard.
"Help!! Somebody help us!" the two young men cried out in panic.
As the ship finished its wild spin, Mathurin, high up in the mast, spotted his two companions vanishing into the depths. He immediately raised the alarm:
"Man overboard! Two men overboard!"
"What?!" Wylgol gasped, stunned. He swept his gaze across the deck and saw, indeed, that the young cartographer and the cabin boy were missing.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me… Not this again," he muttered under his breath.
Without hesitation, the navigator dashed to the mast, grabbed the longest rope he could find, and wrapped it around his waist. Then he took a second, shorter rope and clenched it tightly in his fist.
"Mister Bory, take the helm! Everyone—back to your posts!" he ordered.
The crew obeyed at once. From his position, Bory glanced over at Wylgol.
"What the hell is he doing now?" he muttered.
Wylgol was staring into the void beyond the gunwale. He took a deep breath—then bolted. His feet thundered across the deck, and in one final stride, he leapt overboard and plunged into the abyss.
"What the…?!" the crew exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Aaaah!" Lurcard and Allan screamed as they plummeted—and, unfortunately for them, the jagged tip of a reef loomed just two hundred paces below. One hundred fifty. One hundred.
The two young men were getting closer and closer to their deaths, but behind them, Wylgol was gaining.
Aboard the ship, Sassa watched anxiously as the rope tied to the navigator unspooled—until it suddenly went taut. No more slack.
Just as he was about to reach the falling sailors, Wylgol stretched his arms out toward them, but the tension in the rope yanked him back with a violent jolt that nearly made him vomit. The rescue was falling apart!
But the sailor didn't falter. He used his hands to spin the rope like a lasso.
Lurcard and Allan kept screaming for help; the sharp surface of the rock seemed to rush up toward them, inescapable.
Then—Wylgol threw the rope, looping it around their flailing legs.
The noose tightened around their ankles…
He had them.
In the same instant, Wylgol pulled with all his strength, veins bulging in his arms.
"He did it!" Mathurin shouted in awe. "He's got them!"
Enthusiasm spread through the crew.
"Maybe he's not such a bad captain after all," said one of the rowers.
"Yeah, that's true," added another.
"Hey, you good-for-nothings, just so you know, we're still falling!" growled Sassa.
The rowers exchanged worried glances.
"That's right!" they exclaimed.
A violent jolt, followed by a deafening crash, caught them off guard.
The tip of a reef stabbed the hull on the port side; the boat capsized. From then on, their falling speed increased.
Armed with incredible insight, Wylgol assessed the situation at a glance and gave orders:
"Raise the mainsail! I repeat: raise the mainsail! And take the oars! Did you hear me?"
The sailors replied, "We heard!"
Mathurin, at the top of the mast, hurried to untie the sail's ropes; while below, Sassa worked on the rigging binding the trunk. Garr drummed softly, and the rowers stood ready.
The rapid descent caused gusts of wind that filled the mainsail…
Their speed was cut in half, to everyone's relief.
The crew could now easily use the oars to keep the reefs at bay, preventing their vessel from suffering further damage from the rocky waters.
The boat weaved between the rocky outcrops. Everything was going well now.
Wylgol urged the two survivors to climb up to the boat, as his arms were in agony.
"Hurry up, both of you, you're not featherweights!"
Everything was going well now.
Lurcard and Allan were now making their way up the rope that connected Wylgol to the ship; after giving them way, he followed shortly after.
Everything was going well now, they all sighed.
Leading the way, Lurcard climbed hand over hand toward the damaged ship. At times, the rope swung left and right as the boat dodged the waves, rocking the three survivors.
They would soon board the ship...
But then, a shadow slipped past the lookout's vigilance, appeared behind the curtain of water, tore through it with its gigantic fin, and struck the ship.
It was a violent reminder that death was not far away; it threw the sailors from their posts.
Mathurin toppled backward from his watchtower. The rowers were ejected from their seats and abandoned their oars. The helm slipped from Bory's fingers despite his iron grip.
"Damned rotten fish!"
Once again, the rope saved Sassa from the abyssal call.
She believed herself safe, but her dismay was immense when she saw the huge fin of the turtle crash down on them. Horrified, Wylgol, Mathurin, Bory, Sassa, Garr, the rowers, Allan, and Lurcard watched the growing shadow of the fin... which swept them away without mercy. The straining wood bent, groaned, and shattered, spraying a rain of splinters. This stinging onslaught overwhelmed the crew, who could only lose consciousness as they sank into the depths.
Silence reigned. Yet the soft rustling of the waves echoed in that place. It was a gentle sound, allowing anyone to awaken after a painful slumber.
He felt the damp sand beneath him. Apart from the azure blue flooding the place, it was the radiant silhouette of a woman glowing bright blue that caught Lurcard's gaze.
"Are you a profaner?" she asked.