Free The Ghostfaces by John A. Flanagan

own iron self-discipline to relax and hurried to follow suit.
    There were cries and moans of pleasure from the crew as they had their first real drink of water in days. And it was fresh, cold water, not stale and moldy after weeks in a cask. With their immediate yearning assuaged, they filled their mugs and moved to sit on the rocks fringing the series of small pools, drinking slowly,appreciating the taste and sensation of wetness in their mouths and throats, feeling their dry, swollen tongues slowly returning to normal.
    Jesper sat to one side, head down, retching and belching. Edvin filled a mug and started toward him. Thorn held out a hand to stop him.
    â€œLeave him,” he said. “He’ll be all right and it’ll teach him a lesson.”
    But Edvin’s role as medical orderly gave him a feeling of responsibility for the crew’s physical welfare. He hesitated, then moved around Thorn.
    â€œI’ll just take him this mug,” he said.
    Thorn shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’d tend to throw it at him.”
    Edvin grinned and continued to where his crewmate sat, hunched over and groaning. He prodded Jesper’s shoulder with the mug to get his attention.
    â€œHere, Jes,” he said. “Just sip this slowly.”
    Jesper looked up at him, took the mug and drank deeply. Edvin put a hand out to pull the mug away from his lips.
    â€œSlowly, I said!”
    Jesper shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, then let out a resounding belch.
    Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Well, if there’s anybody within ten kilometers, that should let them know we’ve arrived.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    Once they had drunk their fill of the fresh, cold water, they made their way back to where the ship was beached.
    Hal trudged wearily along the sand, measuring distances withhis eye, looking for a suitable campsite. The obvious choice was near the water source. Not only would that give them an uninterrupted supply of water, but the high, rocky cliff where the water ran down would protect their rear in the event of an attack.
    He paced backward a few meters, then held both hands out at arm’s length, looking from side to side to see where a protective fence could be sited. His arms suddenly felt tired and he let them droop. His shoulders followed. He shook his head to clear it, and made a mark in the sand with his heel. This would be the forward extent of their fence, he thought. Then he stopped. What would they use to build the fence? There weren’t sufficient rocks nearby to construct a solid wall. He shook his head again. He was bone tired, and the problems of building a secure camp suddenly seemed too much for him.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    It was Thorn, standing close by him, a concerned expression on his face.
    Hal took a deep breath. “We’d better get started on a camp—and build a protective fence around it.”
    Thorn shook his head. “No.
We’d
better get started on that,” he said. “Stig and Lydia and I can handle that. It’s time you got some decent rest.”
    â€œBut I’m the skirl,” Hal began to protest.
    Thorn nodded agreement. “That’s right. And when we’re at sea, you’re in total command. But on land, you can hand over the responsibility to me and the others.”
    â€œI don’t . . . ,” Hal started again, but Thorn took his arm and led him to one of the nearest rock outcrops.
    â€œSit down,” Thorn ordered, and Hal, after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed. Suddenly his legs felt very tired.
    â€œHal, you’re worn-out and you need to rest. You’ve been carrying us all on your shoulders for weeks now. You’ve made all the hard decisions.”
    â€œBut that’s my job . . .”
    Thorn nodded patiently. “When we’re at sea, yes. And you’ve handled it brilliantly. You’ve brought us