The Strider and the Regulus (The Star of Atlantis Book 1), page 7
“No, Lad.” Justus waved Swift down from where he’d climbed onto the rail. “A change of course would fracture your momentum. You’re doing very well.”
He handed Swift back the line. “Keep at it. Keep us moving. I’d like to see more consistent control. Your tension’s still flagging in the bottom telltale of the main.”
Swift held taut the line and moved the block back while Justus retreated again to the stern.
****
Swift spent the sunniest part of the afternoon with the main, learning to keep a high level of tension as the gale crescendoed and eased.
Of all the sails he’d worked so far, he liked the mainmast best.
The mainmast was easy to talk to, and it listened well, its response almost immediate, its silky line gliding along its block as though oiled.
If he worked it just right, he could keep the tower of sails all together cradling wind, pulling the Regulus.
That old Welsh marooner, Bartholomew Roberts, hailed in his library books on Celtic piracy—he couldn’t have done any better himself.
Ash certainly couldn’t have done better.
Keeping his eye on the horizon, feeling the wind bridled in his own hands, Swift could even imagine he was on Roberts’s ship.
Or better, his own ship!
He’d be Captain Corkscrew—what Ash used to call him in their games—and he’d see his crew of jolly buccaneers through storms to waiting treasure.
After another half hour, Justus came back to the deck and inspected Swift’s arcing sails.
“You’re doing well,” said Justus. “Strikingly well. I imagined you’d be ready to call it a day after half so many attempts. But here you are, standing strong, your mainmast sails full of wind.”
Swift’s breathing quickened. It was like his father’s words were billowing him.
Perhaps Justus was seeing Swift—on a ship—as the competent lad that he wanted to see. And maybe he was beginning to admit what Swift already knew: Swift was born to the sea, to the wilds, to adventure—more, perhaps, than he was born to medicine. So perhaps Justus would soon conclude that Swift had bided his time and was due the reward of some treasure hunting.
“If you feel up to it, I’ll allow you another try on the Strider,” said Justus.
Swift dropped the line. “You’re letting me back in?”
Justus picked up the rope and tied it off. “A sailor must not be defeated by a single buck.” He led Swift to the rail. “The Star Strider is manageable for you, at your level, but don’t misinterpret my confidence. She’s a little vessel but not easy to pilot solo.”
Caius spotted Swift—climbing over the rail.
This time, now that Swift had earned their father’s confidence, Edric was nowhere nearby to lend encouragement or help or even to hear. He was just eyeing Swift from the stern.
If Swift didn’t know better, he’d think Edric’s face seemed to betray some concern.
“The Strider will test your stamina,” said Justus. “Your balance. Steady force is required to keep her moving true. You’ll soon see for yourself.”
Swift, more than up for the task, spidered down the net and hopped right into the little boat. “Can I take her anywhere I want?”
Justus unhooked the Strider’s ropes from the Brigantine’s hull. “You’ll sail straight west, using the same wind you’ve been catching here.”
Swift gave Sterncastle Cove another quick glance but let go of the fight rising in him to reach it. More arguing at this point could lose him his chance to be on the Strider at all.
“Go easy with her,” said Justus. “Avoid the rough-handed approach. Aim to feel the difference of the wind’s draw on a simpler set of sails.”
Edric’s face, lit with its smirk, appeared over the rail between their father and Caius. “You know what girls say about rough-handed sailors?”
Caius elbowed him. “Would you leave him alone?”
“What? I’m just trying to lighten things. Isn’t that what you asked me to do?”
Swift found he could ignore Edric, no problem. If Edric meant to intimidate, he’d chosen his moment poorly. Justus had been singing Swift’s praises.
And Swift was ready for this. Justus knew it and had said so.
Now Edric would watch Swift try again, and it’d be a much better try than before.
Swift studied the boom, his mind tracing his misstep.
Touching the swollen wood, a tenderness seemed to have woken in his fingers.
He assessed the knot, determining the right level of strength to apply.
A twist—a very gentle twist—was all that was needed. He’d been too forceful with it before. That’s what he’d done wrong.
It seemed, now, he could conceive in his muscles and bones how delicate each adjustment had to be to keep the sail under control.
He picked up the line.
He looked up at his father.
Justus nodded.
In one fluid push, he broadened the sail perfectly.
A wave received the boat from the wind and drew the Strider away from the Regulus.
Swift kept the trim taut as wind churned steady in the sail.
Before he knew it, the Regulus lay behind him, diminished, its four watching sailors shrinking on the bow.
7
Justus settled his hands in his pockets, pride pulling his smile wide.
“Look at the Lad go.” He glanced at Caius. “I’d say that’s my son.”
Caius didn’t take his eyes off Swift. “No doubt.”
“Want me in the steering deck?” asked Trystan.
“Keep her idling,” said Justus. “In case we need to swoop in.”
“In case,” said Edric. “You mean when.”
“He’s getting the knack,” said Justus. “He’s gaining a sense of his capabilities.”
“When do you plan on pinning him?” asked Edric.
“Is that all you care about?” Caius asked him. “Did you come here to help Swift, or only to watch Father deal with him?”
“It isn’t that I don’t care,” said Edric. “But someone’s got to show the Lad that the world won’t coddle him, the way you do.”
“When he’s good and worn, I’ll approach him,” said Justus, keeping his eyes on the challenging waves.
On his lad riding them.
“I’ll recognize the fertile moment when it arrives.”
“You sure medicine’s his cup of tea?” asked Trystan. “I mean—I see the same stirrings of interest we noted in Caius. But…”
“But it takes quite a bit more than interest,” said Caius.
“You can’t argue that Swift hasn’t the intelligence, the discipline to one day handle the kind of training you’re in,” said Justus. “Surely.”
“It takes more than intelligence and discipline, too,” said Caius. “To get through the misery of training, he’d have to love medicine.”
“You don’t think he loves it?” asked Justus.
Caius shrugged. “He likes it, maybe. I don’t know about love. You start him now in that internship, he’ll need enough enthusiasm to carry him through a dozen years of heavy lifting.”
“Can you not see it?” Justus asked Trystan, sitting behind the wheel. “Can you not perceive Swift as a born medical doctor?”
“He’s brilliant,” said Trystan. “But he likes to play. And he likes having time to himself. I’ve always seen him as a bit of a late bloomer.”
“Trystan’s nailed it,” said Edric. “If Swift ever were to get serious about something like medicine, it’d probably be too late for him to have any shot at making it. I mean, when I think of a young prodigy medical student, I don’t think of Swift. Don’t most kids like that grow obsessed with academics rather than legends?”
“I’d say Swift is pretty obsessed with academics,” said Trystan. “He’s into far higher maths than any of us were at thirteen. And he speaks seven languages, right?”
“Eight,” said Caius.
On the water, this far out, Swift’s height made him look a few years older than he was. Watching him through binoculars showed him doing everything right.
Swift never let his focus flag. He stayed cognizant of the force and direction of the wind. When Swift was faced with a choice, Justus could almost read his thoughts, sharp and fluid, delivering him to the optimal course.
His thin body was sinewy and quick under his life jacket, his hands obedient and nimble in the frigid wind.
“You’re all but seeing him in that internship, aren’t you?” asked Caius.
Justus handed him the binoculars. “Young as the Lad is, you must admit how he engages when you’re on about your classes. That’s uncommon.”
“Well, yes, but the way medicine runs in our family, he’s bound to harbor some interest.”
“He always wants to see what you’re studying,” said Justus. “He presses you to explain it. And the questions he asks are great ones. No doubt as good, if not better than what some of your fellows could formulate.”
And in Swift, a deep love of caring for others was germinating. Anytime someone was hurt or ill, Swift was markedly quick to act. And his empathy was palpable. It’d strongly manifested a few months ago when Swift happened upon a dying fox in their oak woods.
“Do you see it in him?” Trystan asked Caius. “This destiny to dive into medicine?”
“If you ask me, it’s too early to pin him. But—I’m no father.” Caius glanced at Justus. “You steered us right. I think the real question is whether you’ll manage wresting the Lad’s mind away from other matters. His dreaming of ocean adventure was abstract until he laid his hands on that book.”
“He won’t be a lad for much longer,” said Justus.
“True,” said Caius. “But in driving him toward the internship, you’re asking for the rest of his childhood.”
“There’s also the matter of his fox,” said Justus. “We mustn’t forget what we saw that night.”
“Oh, yes.” Caius lowered the binoculars. “I’ll never forget—seeing him in such distress.”
It was a young fox Swift had found, injured, lying close to death in the woods behind their home.
The Lad sat with the fox for a whole evening, trying to feed him hiking snacks, offering him water. The fox hadn’t taken a thing. But the gestures won him the animal’s trust in his final hour. When night fell, the poor creature pulled himself near, laid his chin on Swift’s knee, and passed.
Caius and Justus, beside themselves with worry, finally hunted Swift down an hour after dark. They found him in pieces and tears, cradling the dead fox.
“Was that distress?” asked Justus. “Or love?”
Caius didn’t answer.
Justus took back the binoculars and watched Swift.
The Lad’s sailing had a style to it, even this early in training. His management of the Strider wasn’t rigid. It was like he felt the sea and went with it, improvising along with whatever it dealt.
That flexibility earned him more bounty in distance than what a by-the-book sailor might achieve.
“He’ll do well in medicine,” said Justus. “That mind. That presence. That stamina. Yes, very well.”
“That bullheadedness,” said Edric. “If you ask me, he’s not one to stuff into a mold.”
When it came to Swift, Edric had always been insightful.
Edric saw Swift differently—dealt with him differently—than the rest of them. Since the day Swift was born, Edric kept back his warmth.
He did like Swift, in his way. He just demanded that Swift earn what was given, which was generally good for the Lad. Edric was certainly right that Swift danced to his own drum.
But Caius, too, was right—an older brother can’t easily see a lad as the man he’ll become.
But a father can.
“Imagine such a one in an operating room,” said Justus. “Think—how quick his hands, how much quicker, his thinking. After such experience, such education as I’d like him in—why, he could turn on a dime and handily manage every scattered crisis of Caius’s trauma wing.”
“This has always been your dream for him, hasn’t it?” asked Trystan. “That he’d one day follow after you.”
Was Swift not, indeed, the son most similar to he himself? “You believe I’m wishing to see myself in the Lad?”
“Just a trap to be mindful of,” said Trystan.
“I see quite a bit of myself in the Lad,” said Edric. “I’m glad you’re set on cornering him today. Whether it’s medicine or something else that catches his eye, he needs a push to start thinking about who he is.” He moved away from the rails. “Like it or not, he isn’t cut and dry like the rest of you.”
“I might not be as cut and dry as you think,” said Justus. “When I was Swift’s age, I was more obsessed than even he with treasure and sailing adventures.”
“You’re joking,” said Trystan.
“I’m quite serious,” said Justus. “When I was a boy, a rumor spread that someone had discovered the Star of Atlantis. The whole thing was hogwash—a prank. But the hype popularized the treasure, and soon every child near the Welsh Coast was dreaming of taking it.”
“Is it real, do you think?” asked Caius.
Justus chuckled. “There’s hope in your eyes, son. But of course there is. You’re my lad, too.”
“You’re not saying Swift’s treasure could really be out there, surely,” said Edric.
“I believe it to be a true piece of maritime history, yes,” said Justus. “As a lad myself, I lived near an old sailor kind enough to take me out looking from time to time. Despite that we both reckoned it to be long lost, the chase was quite thrilling.”
“What if you left Swift alone for a while,” said Caius. “Would he not discover medicine on his own, if it were right for him?”
“He perhaps would,” said Justus. “But he’d miss the chance to go after the internship. I’ll not allow that.”
“Father’s right to check him.” Edric, staring at the Lad, was marked by a rare shade of tenderness. “It would be kind to do him the favor of fixing his feet square on the ground before his heart’s broken.”
Indeed, Edric did care for Swift. Though his approach was a rough one, he too was teaching his brother.
Caius, watching Swift with them, looked not a bit tender. Rather, he was white knuckled, his face strained as he fixed on the Lad, way out, teetering in the Strider atop a big wave.
Justus raised the binoculars up to his eyes.
Swift shifted his weight.
Balanced the craft.
Adjusted the sail to steady the ship’s rocking.
He was fine.
The look on Swift’s face was the one he wore when he went at chemistry schoolwork. It was a twisted brow—a mind full of strategies, of solutions, eyes full of calculation.
“He’s suited to medicine more than he can imagine.” Justus glanced at his other sons. “More than any of us can imagine, I’d wager.”
****
Swift trained his gaze on his father, his brothers, as he guided the ship to turn and square with the Regulus.
Justus cupped his mouth and shouted, “Well done.” His words, though barely audible over the wind, sent a thrill up Swift’s spine. “Steer her portside.”
Swift let the pressure off the mainsail.
The wind evaporated like an escaped dove. The relieved sail fluttered as Swift pried the oar from the stow and steadied the craft.
He tightened the sail again and aimed for the Regulus’s portside.
The wind responded true, and his sailing in was a promenade, his brothers watching, his father’s mouth held open in a smile.
Even Edric looked a bit proud, though he seemed to be trying to mask it, glancing down as he was.
Though the Strider kept to her course, moving eastward now—the wind felt like a different species than what Swift had been working. It took all his attentiveness to each gust to keep the telltales in check.
But he did it.
And reaching the big ship’s hull, letting the Strider’s sail fall, Swift felt ready to dissipate into the sky with the unfettered wind.
Justus, following him around the ship to portside, was clapping.
Edric backed up from the rail and ducked beneath the sails to the stern, where he stayed.
Caius and Trystan threw down ropes.
Swift caught them and tied them to the Strider’s gunwale, then dropped onto her bench.
The stint on the Strider had been exhilarating, but he was aching and grateful it was over. He’d just have to manage one sail, probably, while they all worked the Regulus together to sail north to the cove.
Justus leaned over the rail. “Brilliant work, Lad. You should be proud.”
Swift’s smile could not be checked. “Can we sail north now? We’ve got plenty of light.”
Justus, though smiling brightly, was shaking his head. “There are lessons still unfinished for you here. Climb up, and Caius will put you on the jib.”
Swift’s smile departed as he watched Justus disappear.
“Climb on,” Caius called down.
Swift peeked around the hull of the big ship to glimpse his cove.
Its blue waves had grown even bluer with the sun, tending west.
Every rise of every wave looked like a beckoning hand.
“Swift,” said Caius, one eyebrow raised.
“But—the treasure,” said Swift, low enough that Justus might not hear.
Caius leaned on the rail. “Your best shot at treasure hunting involves cooperating.”
“We’re so close.” Swift gathered the slack on the tow rope and drew the Strider to the Regulus. “I know how to sail, now. It’s time we go after it.”
Caius glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice further. “Some true practice at sailing is part of going after your treasure, right?”
Swift shrugged. “Yeah, but—”
“Many things, which you might pursue, are complicated like this,” said Caius. “The path isn’t always direct. Often, it involves a lot of work you might not’ve expected.”
Swift climbed onto the netting tacked to the flank of the Regulus.
