Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

grabbed for his hat, managing to catch it just before it took wing. The
wind was shrieking and howling now, sounding like damned souls in
some maritime hell. Ducking his head against the sudden silver curtain
of rain, Jack ran across the deck to the starboard ladder leading up to
the quarterdeck, and bolted up it two steps at a time.
Three figures in tarred weather-gear awaited him. Jack’s
helmsman on watch, Matthews, grasped the spokes of the wheel, while
the burly lee helmsman, Banks, stood off to the side to assist. Steering
a ship through a gale was an arduous job, both physically and mentally
taxing. The helmsman had to keep an eye on the angle of the waves,
as well as how the wind filled the reefed courses, in order to keep the
ship on the best heading. In addition to the two helmsmen, an ordinary
seaman was assigned to the watch, and his job was to turn the
hourglass every half hour, and update the traverse board with the
course the helmsman reported.
Matthews stood with his legs braced, his bearded features tight
with concentration as he and Banks worked at keeping the Wench
angled properly. The Wench was taking the waves at roughly forty-five
degrees, so the big swells rolled in beneath her starboard bow, then
rolled out beneath her stern on the port side. Trying to head directly
into the waves would pummel the vessel worse, might even break her
in two, and taking the waves crosswise to them might cause her to
capsize.
Matthews glanced sideways as Jack appeared beside him. “Bit
of a blow, Cap’n!” He had to duck his head to keep water out of his
mouth, and shout to be heard over the wind. Banks nodded at the
captain, but didn’t speak, concentrating on helping Matthews hold the
wheel steady. Jack glanced over at the other figure swathed in the
tarred weather-gear, and, by the dim glow of the binnacle-light,
recognized Lucius Featherstone.
“Aye,” Jack responded to Matthews, “Just a bit.”
Even up here on the quarterdeck, salt spray flicked his face, slick
and cold like the hand of a drowned corpse. It made the deck slippery,
and with the way the wind was gusting, a man might fall and slide right
over the side. Jack cupped his hands around his mouth. “You need to
put on safety lines, mates.”