Ilona gripped the wooden wheel as the waves crashed against her ship. She fought to see through the rain to try to steer, but it was blinding. Not only that, but her hair had been torn from its ribbons and was now dripping wet and being flung in her face. The wind was growing stronger and stronger as well.
When the lightning flashed, she looked up and saw there were still men clinging to the ropes in the rigging, trying to keep the sails open so they could keep moving. She tried to call out for them to come down, but the storm was too loud for them to hear her.
"Ilona!" a voice yelled. She looked over and saw the tall and lanky Sam Thatch struggling to make his way to her.
"The ship is taking on so much water!" he called when he got to her, "It's up above the men's knees already!"
Ilona swallowed hard, and her mind raced. She didn't know what to do. What could they do?
