Page 150 of Tiger's Voyage
“I’ll get the Scarf! It’s in my room!” I hollered over the noise of the storm and headed toward the door. A wave hit the ship, and I slid on some water right over to Ren.
“No. I’ll get it.” Ren shoved me back inside and disappeared.
I bit my lip, worried about Kishan. After another wave tilted the ship, I scurried out the door and up the ladder to check on him. The top of the wheelhouse was slick with cold rainwater. Kishan still stood, not holding onto anything. I slid over to him, grabbed him around the waist and locked my other arm around the railing.
He didn’t look at me or acknowledge me in any way. The ship leaned precariously to the right, and I braced my feet on the metal bar used to tie off ropes and held onto Kishan. His body was stiff and my arms screamed in pain as I kept us both upright. The ship finally straightened, and I was able to rest for a second.
Just then, I felt Ren’s arm wrap tightly around me and heard a very angry voice in my ear. “I thought I told you to stay put. Why do you always have to do exactly the opposite of what I ask?”
“He was going to fall off into the ocean!” I shouted back.
“Better him than you!”
I rammed my elbow into Ren’s stomach, but he just growled in my ear, and a second later I felt the wispy threads of the Divine Scarf wrap around Kishan and secure him to the railing.
“There. Now let’s get you back inside.”
“No!” Rain dripped off my nose, and my bare arms trembled from the cold. “Someone has to watch over him!” I yelled over the torrential rain.
“ThenIwill. But let me take you back first.”
“Can’t you just lash me to the rail like Kishan?” I sneezed loudly and looked up sheepishly from behind wet eyelashes, knowing I was going to lose this battle.
Ren stared at me furiously and growled, “This is nonnegotiable! You’re going back to the wheelhouse now if I have to carry you in a bag slung over my back! Come on!”
He took my hand and we climbed down the ladder together, cocooned on the descent. After I entered the wheelhouse, he closed the door, gave me a dark look, and headed back up again.
The storm gathered speed, and the cresting waves became walls of water. Now I was worried aboutbothmy tigers. The storm was violent. Mr. Kadam and Nilima were busy, but there was nothing for me to do except pray that the men above would be safe.
A sodden Ren appeared at the door a half hour later. He shot me a cursory glance. Satisfied that I was staying put, he said, “We’re to follow the path of the lightning.”
He left and almost immediately the inky purple view was lit up with twin lightning bolts that shot from just overhead and hit the ocean to our right. Thunder boomed, echoing through the wheelhouse so loudly that I covered my ears. Mr. Kadam veered right, and we started up an immense wave. Seawater splashed the windows and ran off the open decks of the ship. I’d never heard of a cruise ship this size being sunk by a storm and sincerely hoped it was very uncommon.
Lightning shot out again. This time the crackling bolts veered slightly left. We pressed on following the path the lighting showed us. About every fifteen to twenty minutes it would adjust our path. I stopped looking out the window when they lit up the ocean. The waves were so high and the clouds so dark and violent that it scared me. Not so much for my own life—I felt fairly certain Mr. Kadam knew what he was doing—but I was scared for the men standing in the open overlooking the terrifying storm surrounding us. How helpless it must make them feel, how vulnerable, knowing one slip could snuff out their lives in an instant.
All that long, dark, terrible day and through the early evening, I sat quietly, whispering prayers that Ren and Kishan would be safe, asking that the storm would calm, that the sun would appear again, and that we would all live on through this horrible tempest. I wondered what those early mariners must have felt like on their small ships, battling storms such as these. Had they made peace with the idea that they would likely be laid to rest in a watery grave? Did they avoid connections to other people knowing they’d probably never see their loved ones again? Or did they just close their eyes and hold on like I was doing?
The ship began to settle as the rain slackened. “What’s happening? Is it over?” I asked Mr. Kadam.
He peered out the window, studying the clouds and listening to the wind. “I fear it isn’t. We’re in the eye of the storm.”
“The eye? You mean we’re in the middle of a tsunami?”
“No. A tsunami is a large sea wave, usually the result of an underwater volcano. We’re in the eye of a hurricane or a typhoon, depending on exactly where we are. Hurricanes occur in the western north Atlantic, but in the western Pacific or the seas of China, they are called typhoons. Incidentally, the wordtyphoonoriginally came from Greece. The wordTuphnrepresents the father of the winds in Greek mythology and—”
“Mr. Kadam?”
“Yes, Miss Kelsey.”
“Can we discuss typhoons, hurricanes, tropical storms, tornados, tsunamis, and cyclones later?”
“Of course.”
The boat started shaking as we cleared the eye and moved back into the thrust of the storm. Mr. Kadam and Nilima were kept busy as the lightning bolts started striking again. Several hours later, the rolling of the ocean lessened, and the rain became lighter and then disappeared altogether. The clouds stopped roiling and moved away, leaving wispy fingers in their wake. I heard a noise just as the door slid open. Ren stood there supporting the limp form of his brother. He stepped through, and both men collapsed onto the floor.
Nilima helped me drag them into the wheelhouse and began vigorously rubbing Kishan’s head and arms with a towel. She threw one to me so I could dry off Ren. They shivered violently.
“It’s no use. We’ll have to get them out of their wet clothes.”
