Free Trolley to Yesterday by John Bellairs Page B

Leander's Tower, the better.
    Minutes passed. Johnny, Fergie, and the professor munched figs while Mr. Townsend shouted orders on the deck of the galley. After half an hour had passed, the professor got fidgety. He hummed tunelessly and drummed his fingers on the table, and every now and then he said something under his breath. Finally Mr. Townsend came back to the cabin. He looked pale, and his mouth was set in a grim frown.
    "It seems that we have a few problems," he said as he sank wearily into his chair. "When our ship rammed the Turkish galley, about half of the oars on our starboard side were sheared off. I'm afraid we're going to have to make the trip to Leander's Tower by just using our sail. Normally that wouldn't be too difficult, but there's a storm coming up."
    The professor turned pale, and he swallowed hard. "A storm?" he said in a trembling voice. "Is... er, I mean, will it be a bad one?"
    Mr. Townsend shrugged. "Who knows? Storms blow up very quickly in the Sea of Marmara, and sometimes they're pretty fierce. But we have to try to get to the tower. We're leaving right now."
    The professor and the two boys followed Mr. Townsend out onto the deck of the galley. Overhead the great triangular sail moaned and strained against the wind, and the ship surged, cutting through the choppy water. But dark clouds had rushed in to hide the stars, and lightning flashed on the horizon. The ship began to pitch and roll, and the boys had to cling to the rigging to keep from falling down. Then, without warning, the wind changed direction. It blew straight against the sail, which flapped uselessly as the ship slowed down and then stopped altogether. But Mr. Townsend was not dismayed. He clung to a rope and bellowed loudly, "Stand by to go about!" The rudder swerved, and the ship's prow swung around in the opposite direction, running before the wind. The gale got stronger, and the sailors furled the sail up halfway, so that the force of the wind would not break off the mast. The ship heaved and tossed in the high, foamy waves. Now and then water broke over the railings and drenched the three travelers. Johnny felt cold and wet and very scared—would they ever get back to the tower? They were sailing the wrong way, but they really didn't have much choice. The night got blacker, and sheets of rain came slanting down. The loud howling of the wind drowned out all other sounds, and Johnny could not even hear himself praying. But his lips moved, and he kept saying the Our Father over and over. Suddenly the ship came to a grating, shuddering halt, and with a loud crack the mast snapped. The sail went over the side of the ship and lay fluttering on the water. In the distance, beyond the bow, Johnny saw the vague shapes of trees and a shadowy building. They had run aground on some unknown shore, and the ship was being pounded to pieces by the wind and waves.
    Wildly Johnny looked around. Nearby he saw Fergie pulling himself to his feet. He had been knocked flat by the sudden stop, but he seemed to be all right.
    "Come on!" Fergie yelled, grabbing Johnny by the arm. "We've got to get off of this crummy ship! Let's go!"
    Johnny stared at the black choppy water and the pounding surf, and he was afraid. He could dog paddle around in a calm, heated pool, but he didn't know if he could swim in cold, churning sea. Fergie read his thoughts and dragged him over to the rail.
    "It's okay!" he said soothingly as he pointed down. "The water isn't over your head. You can wade to shore. Come on!"
    Johnny still hung back. All around them feet pounded on the galley's deck, and they heard loud splashes. Nimbly Fergie vaulted over the rail and landed in the water. Johnny looked down fearfully, and he was relieved to see that Fergie's head and shoulders were above the water.
    "See?" Fergie yelled encouragingly. "It's not very deep! Come on! Jump!"
    Johnny felt cold waves of fear sweeping over him; but he pulled himself together and clambered awkwardly over