"John, let's have some more of those prayers." Winston yelled down again. "And while you're at it, tell Canninge to give them another round the second he's swabbed out. He's got to hurt that upper gun deck soon or we're apt to be in for a long night."
"Hugh, can't we . . ." She stopped as she saw a figure in a bloodstained white shift slowly moving up the companionway.
"Good Christ." He had seen it too. "Katy, try and keep her the hell off the quarterdeck and out of the way."
While he threw his shoulder against the whipstaff and began shouting more orders to Mewes on the main deck, Serina mounted the last step. She moved across the planking toward them, her eyes glazed, even more than before. "Come below, senhora." Katherine reached out for her. "You could be hurt."
The mulata's hand shot up and seized her arm with an iron grip. Katherine felt her feet give way, and the next thing she knew she had been flung sideways against the hard rope shrouds.
"E pada nibi!" The voice was deep, chilling. Then she turned and advanced menacingly on Winston.
"God damn you!" He shoved her back, then reached to help Katherine. "Katy, are you all right? Just watch out for her. I wager she's gone mad after all that's happened. If we get time I'll have some of the boys come and take her below."
Again the Gloucester's guns flared, and a whistle sang across the quarterdeck as the shot clipped the railing next to where they were standing. Serina stared wildly at the shattered rail, then at the English man-of-war. Her eyes seemed vacant, as though looking through all she saw.
"Good Christ, Katy, take a look at those skies." Winston felt a chill in his bowels as the lightning blossomed again. "The wind is changing; I can feel it. Something's happening. If we lose a yard, or tear a sail, they'll take us in a minute. All it needs is one quick shift, too much strain."
As if in response to his words, the hull shuddered, then pitched backward, and Katherine heard a dull crack from somewhere in the rigging.