vessel put on more sail, a clear indication that her crew had seen the Seagull’s approach. But the broad-beamed merchant ship was no match for her long and slender pursuer, so by late afternoon, the Seagull was closing fast. Then the crewmen not otherwise occupied began to bring weapons up onto the main deck, and they stood at the rail swinging their weapons and practicing their war-cries.
As usual, the Trogites abandoned ship at that point. It was so much ‘as usual’ that it was almost a ritual. The Seagull paused briefly to give the Trogite seamen time enough to bail over the side and to swim out from between the two ships. Then the Maags tied up alongside and stole everything of value, then they carried their loot back aboard the Seagull and pulled away so that the Trogites could climb back aboard their ship before anybody drowned. It was a civilized sort of arrangement. Nobody got hurt, no damage was done to either vessel, and they all parted almost friends. Hook-Beak smiled faintly. During the previous summer, he’d robbed one Trogite vessel so many times that he’d gotten to know her captain by his first name.
‘Should we burn her, Cap’n?’ Ox asked hopefully. Ox always seemed to enjoy burning ships, for some reason.
‘I don’t think so,’ Hook-Beak replied. ‘Let them have their ship back. We’ve got what we wanted. Maybe if we don’t burn her, they’ll go back to Shaan and reload. Then we can chase them down and rob them again.’
After the Maags had left the Trogite vessel far behind, the Seagull was quartering the wind and moving off to the southeast – and that was when coincidence stepped in to alter the ‘as usual’ part of the whole affair. Every seaman alive knows that there are rivers in the sea, but unlike land rivers, the rivers of the sea are largely invisible. Water is water, after all, and the surface of the sea looks much the same, whether it’s simply lying there or running fast just below the waves.
The Seagull was placidly moving southeast, and the crew was busily sorting through the loot when there was a sudden surge, and the Seagull was abruptly swept sideways toward the northeast. First Mate Ox fought with the tiller, bending it almost to the breaking point. ‘We’re in trouble, Cap’n!’ he shouted. ‘A current just grabbed us!’
‘Oarsmen to your posts!’ Hook-Beak shouted even as Ham-Hand started bellowing, ‘Slack sail!’
There was a great deal of scrambling about, but nothing seemed to have any effect. ‘It’s no good, Cap’n!’ Ox cried. ‘It’s got us, and it won’t let go. The tiller’s gone slack!’
‘Maybe it’ll slow down when the tide changes,’ Ham-Hand suggested hopefully.
‘I wouldn’t make no big wagers on it,’ Ox replied, working the tiller back and forth to get the feel of the current. ‘This one’s moving faster than any current I’ve ever come up against. I don’t think the tide’s got much to do with it. The seasons might, but it’s a long time ’till autumn, and we could end up a thousand leagues from home afore winter gets here.’
‘We’re making purty good time, though,’ Ham-Hand noted.
‘Are you trying to be funny?’ Ox demanded angrily.
‘I just thought I’d mention it,’ Ham-Hand replied. ‘You want I should tell the oarsmen to stand down, Cap’n?’
‘No. Have them swing her so that she’s going bow-first. If she keeps going sideways like this, a good ripple could swamp her. Then have the oarsmen ship their oars, but keep them in place. If we swirl in behind an island or a reef, I’ll want them to dig in and pull us clear.’
‘Aye, Cap’n, if that’s the way you want it,’ Ham-Hand replied, tugging his forelock in a salute of sorts.
It didn’t happen that way, though. The Seagull continued to fly in a northeasterly direction for the next several days, moving farther and farther into unknown waters. The crew was growing more apprehensive as the days slid past. They’d been out of sight of land for more than two weeks now, and some tired old stories involving sea-monsters, the edge of the world, demons, and vast whirlpools began to surface. Ox and Ham-Hand tried to stifle those stories, but they weren’t very successful.
Then on one bright summer afternoon, the current slowed without any warning, and then it stopped, leaving the Seagull placidly sitting on a flat, empty sea.
‘What’s our plan, Cap’n?’ Ham-Hand asked.
‘I’m working on it,’ Sorgan replied. ‘Don’t rush me.’ He looked at Ox. ‘How much water have we got left?’ he demanded.
‘Maybe a week’s worth – if we ration it.’
‘How about food?’
‘It’s a little skimpy, Cap’n,’ Ox reported. ‘The Fat Man’s been complaining about that for a couple of days now. The Fat Man’s not the best cook in the world, but he does know how to pad up the beans and salt pork with seaweed if things get tight. I’d say that water’s our main problem.’
‘Maybe it’ll rain,’ Ham-Hand said hopefully.
‘“Maybe” don’t drink too good,’ Ox said in a gloomy voice. ‘We’d better find some land, and we’d better find it fast. Otherwise…’ He left it up in the air, but the others got his drift.
The crew of the Seagull was on short rations for the next few days, but then on a steel-grey morning before the sun rose, Kaldo Tree-Top, the tallest man aboard, shouted ‘Land ho!’ from the top-mast. A shorter man might have missed the low-lying smudge on the eastern horizon, but Tree-Top, well-nigh seven feet tall, saw it quite clearly.
‘Are you sure?’ Ham-Hand shouted up to the gangly look-out.
‘Real sure.’ Tree-Top called back. ‘Two points off the port bow, and three – maybe four – leagues away.’
‘Go wake Ox,’ Ham-Hand told Rabbit, the small, wiry crewman standing nearby.
‘He don’t like to get woke up this early,’ Rabbit replied. ‘It makes him real grouchy.’
‘Just kick his foot and then run,’ Ham-Hand suggested. ‘He’ll never catch you. That’s how you got your name isn’t it?’
‘I can outrun my own shadow,’ Rabbit boasted, ‘but if I happen to trip and fall, old Ox’ll tromp on me for the rest of the day.’
‘Shinny up the mast,’ Ham-Hand advised. ‘Ox don’t climb none too good. I need to let him know that we’re about to make a landfall.’
‘I’d really druther not, Ham-Hand.’
Ham-Hand clenched his huge fist and held it in front of Rabbit’s nose. ‘I’d do a quick turn-about on my druthers, if I was you, Rabbit,’ he said ominously. ‘Now quit complaining and do as you’re told.’
‘Don’t get excited,’ Rabbit said, backing away. ‘I’m going.’
Ox, however, surprised Rabbit with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. Of course, Ox required a great deal of food and drink because of his
