skimming lightly over the waves a league or so out from the coast of Dhrall. By evening the Seagull was a goodly distance south of Longbow’s village, and Sorgan prudently hauled in on the leeward side of a small islet and dropped anchor. Nobody in his right mind sails through strange waters after dark.
Sorgan rose at first light and went up on deck to have a look at the weather. He found Ham-Hand and Rabbit leaning over the rail on the starboard side. ‘What’s afoot?’ he asked them.
‘There’s some real strange critters in these here waters, Cap’n,’ Rabbit replied. ‘I’ve seen dolphins and porpoises afore, but I ain’t never seen any of them as was pink.’
‘You’re not serious!’ Sorgan said.
‘Strike me dead iff’n I ain’t,’ Rabbit said. ‘I heered them splashin’ an’ gigglin’ out there afore it got light, an’ I couldn’t believe my eyes once it got light enough for me to take a good look.’
‘He’s right, Cap’n,’ Ham-Hand said. ‘The little rascals is as pink as a new sunrise and they’re skipping around out there on the water like little children having a good time.’
‘There’s one right now, Cap’n,’ Rabbit said, pointing off to starboard.
Sorgan stared. The creature was definitely a dolphin, and it really was pink.
Then there were others swarming around the Seagull, leaping and splashing and giggling as they frolicked about. ‘This is the strangest place,’ Sorgan muttered, half to himself. ‘The next thing we know, we might come across purple sharks or bright green whales. Rouse the crew, Ham-Hand. The weather looks good, so let’s get under way.’
‘Aye, Cap’n,’ Ham-Hand replied.
The Seagull continued south, but she was no longer alone. The pink dolphins accompanied her, racing along ahead of her bow and chattering to the crew on both the starboard and port side. ‘It’s almost like we got an escort, ain’t it, Cap’n?’ Ox suggested. Then he squinted speculatively at the creatures playfully leaping out of the water on all sides. ‘I wonder what dolphin meat tastes like,’ he said.
‘No!’ Sorgan said sharply. ‘Our luck’s running good, Ox. Don’t tamper with anything. You might bring down a squall or even a water-spout, and it’s a long swim back to Maag.’
‘Those things splashing around out there don’t have anything to do with the weather, Cap’n,’ Ox scoffed.
‘Maybe not, but I’m not about to take any chances. Don’t fool around with things, Ox. Just leave them exactly the way they are.’
And so the Seagull proceeded south at a goodly rate with dolphins leaping along in front of her bow as rosy dawn tinted the eastern sky.
‘There’s a fire on the beach, Cap’n,’ Tree-Top called down from the top-mast.
‘Keep your eyes peeled,’ Hook-Beak called up to him. ‘There’ll be two more farther on south. After we pass the third one, we’ll need to keep a sharp eye out. There’ll be an inlet that leads into a fair-sized bay. That’s the place we’re looking for.’
‘Aye, Cap’n,’ Tree-Top called back.
The Seagull passed the third bonfire in the early afternoon of the third day after Sorgan’s meeting with Longbow, and Hook-Beak ordered the crew to keep a sharp eye off to port.
They rounded a headland, and just beyond there was what appeared to be a narrow channel stretching back between two rocky promontories.
‘I’ll take her, Ox,’ Sorgan said, laying one hand on the tiller. ‘Get the oarsmen in place, and drop the sail. Let’s not run her aground this close to the rich lady’s home village.’
‘Aye, Cap’n,’ Ox agreed.
Hook-Beak considered his options as he steered the Seagull through the channel and into the sizeable bay lying beyond. He was fairly sure that Longbow hadn’t been trying to deceive him, but it might be better to take things a little slow and steady here. He didn’t know these people, and they didn’t know him. He glanced at the sky. It was mid-afternoon now, and it’d probably take some time to locate the village and row up the bay to wherever it was. That could possibly bring them to this Lattash place at sundown or even later. It might be safer to drop anchor a ways out from shore and wait until morning. That way they’d arrive in broad daylight, and everybody could see what everybody else was doing.
‘Shinny up the mast, Ham-Hand,’ he told his second mate. ‘See if you can spot that village, and then find us a place to anchor for the night. We’ll sit tight until morning, and then we’ll go talk with the rich lady.’
‘Aye, Cap’n,’ Ham-Hand agreed. ‘Let’s not rile up the natives if we don’t have to.’
They anchored the Seagull off a rocky shore where there was no discernable beach. Hook-Beak didn’t want anybody to come creeping up to his ship in the dark. He stationed look-outs aloft and others in the bow and on the stern, just to be on the safe side.
The night passed quietly, and everything seemed to be all right the next morning. The look-outs had seen several fires near the broad, sandy beach at the head of the bay during the night, and Sorgan called the crew of the Seagull to the aft deck for a little conference. ‘I want you men to mind your manners when we go into that village,’ he told them. ‘Don’t start getting any ideas about their women-folk or trying to grab any trinkets from the men. We’re probably going to be outnumbered by about ten to one, so let’s all be real polite. These people seem to need some help from us, and there’s been talk of gold as payment, so behave yourselves. Don’t start waving your swords and spears around, and don’t snarl or shake your fists at anybody. We could be talking about a lot of gold here, and I’ll be very unhappy with anybody who does anything to upset the apple-cart. Have I made myself clear?’ He looked around at his crew with bleak eyes and an even more grim expression.
They all seemed to get his point almost immediately.
They raised anchor as the sun was just coming up, and the oarsmen slowly rowed the Seagull up to the head of the bay where the nighttime lookouts had seen the fires.
‘Take her in until we’re about a hundred yards from shore, Ox,’ Sorgan instructed. ‘We’ll drop anchor and wait to see how the natives behave. If they seem peaceful, fine. If they act belligerent, we’ll turn the Seagull around and go someplace else.’
‘I get your drift, Cap’n,’ Ox agreed.
Sorgan noted that the village of Lattash was quite a bit larger than the one where he’d met Longbow, and there were many canoes on the sandy beach, and fish-nets drying on poles near the canoes. It appeared that the natives of Lattash were primarily fishermen. The houses, if they could be called that, were made for the most part of tree-branches tightly woven about dome-shaped frames, and though they appeared to be a bit crude, Hook-Beak was fairly sure that they kept the weather at bay. There was nothing in the village that could really be called a street, since the individual huts appeared to have been randomly placed.
There was also a well-packed ridge – or berm – between the village and the river which came down out of the mountains just there, and that strongly hinted at the possibility that the river sometimes overflowed its banks.
It
