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The wind was picking up. Even below the surface of the bay, Rôg could feel the water pushing this way and that with a stronger force. He rose up toward the surface, poking his head through a hole in the thin ice. It was sleeting, turning to flakes of heavy snow here and there. With the increasing change for the worse in weather, came a dimming of the natural light. It grew dark the further down he dove and he had to feel his way along with snout and flipper for anything that might be the palantir. A few promising rocky formations had been pushed and prodded against, but none yielded the smaller globe. He remained persistent, despite the worsening conditions. Two hours, though, of diligent searching brought no results. Luindal called him aboard, saying they needed to move the ship into the deeper waters of the bay to avoid being pushed up on the sandbar by the surging waves.
Once Rôg was aboard, the Elves weighed anchor and unfurled the mainsail, preparing to head into the interior of the bay. The wind lashed at the sail as it was hoisted, driving the ship through the waves at a rapid rate. Below, on the deck, the crew who were busying themselves with securing anything on deck against being washed overboard in the increasing storm. The main mast groaned as the sail filed out with the powerful gusts of wind. And a number of times Elves near it peered up the length of it to see if there were any reason it had begun to also make a sharp creaking sort of sound.
Luindal had just come up to see what was left to be done, when one of the crew called out a warning. An especially strong breeze had slapped itself against the sail in a sudden squall. The mast groaned as the sailed pulled on it and twisted as another gust of wind hit it from a different angle. With a crack, a long section of the wooden mast in the upper half of its length, snapped in two, and heaved toward the deck. Elves scrambled to secure the sail and the broken length of mast before it washed into the bay. The captain ran to give assistance, but was stopped short at a call from his first mate. pointing back to the sandbar and the area of it fronting on the bay.
The Corsairs! It seemed they had taken rapid advantage of the Elven ship’s retreat and now its misfortune and had pulled in close to the sandbar with a number of their longboats, preparing to make their own search for the other palantir. Luindal ordered a few of the crew to keep an eye on the Southrons’ ship, while he and others repaired the mast as hastily as was possible . . .
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