Locking the High Helm

Crossing off the swaying chain bridge brought me right onto the high timber deck of the fortress! Mounted on the stout railing stood a grand yellow plastic ship's helm, spinning free and clattering in the night draft. An unlashed rudder on my watch? Unacceptable! I planted my peg leg against a ribbed floor bolt for leverage, gripped two thick spokes with both hands, and brought the wheel dead center. To hold our heading true until dawn, I picked up a sturdy flat wooden stick from the deck and jammed it firmly through the spokes into the railing bracket. With a crisp thud, the helm locked fast. Vessel secured, I dropped anchor right beside the post to keep watch.