GLOSSARY
“Come on, sir!” cried Needle again.
“Right,” said Philip, shaking his head to clear it of accumulating confusion and panic. He was still in the water. “Right.” He pulled himself through the wreckage of spars and rope, eventually reaching the hawser that bound his makeshift raft to the Citoyen Pierre.
“Catch, sir,” said Needle, tossing a rope. It was a deep sea line, for measuring the water’s depth, Philip discovered, and Needle had tied a bowline into it. Philip slipped his arms and head through the loop and allowed himself to be dragged to the Citoyen Pierre’s side, which was strangely low in the water. With Needle pulling from above, Philip clambered up the side and regained the deck.
“Thank you, Needle,” he said, mastering his panting breath (a captain could never afford to show any weakness in front of his men), and reflecting that he was expressing real gratitude to a common sailor. What would they say at Fitton Hall? What would his uncle, say?
He could worry about that later. For now there was the Citoyen Pierre to save, and all three vessels to get out of the harbor. He looked about, saw Needle and another sailor had finally freed the snow from her anchor and fallen spars and rigging, and cupped his hands to hail the Chasseur.
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GLOSSARY
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