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devinsena · 5 years

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Kellyanne Conway Calls Hillary Clinton "Queen Of Abortion"

While on “Fox & Friends” recently, Counselor to the President, Kellyanne Conway, called Hillary Clinton “the queen of abortion,” a title Clinton rightfully earned for her alarming stance on the issue.

Conway appeared on Fox News's "Fox & Friends" and explained Democrats did not bring up the issue of abortion much during the midterms because hyper-focusing on the issue has never worked in the past.

“They tried that for so long with the queen of abortion in 2016 and it backfired for them because so many women said, 'Excuse me, you have to talk to me on all the issues,'" Conway said.

Conway also explained how women are not single-issue voters and they care about more than just their so-called reproductive rights.

Chelsea Clinton fired back at Conway’s comments about her mother, posting on Twitter, “My mother has always supported women making the reproductive health choices they decide are best for themselves & their families. That’s what pro-choice means.”

The title may seem extreme, but so is Clinton’s stance and voting record on abortion. In fact, during the 2016 election she was called out for voting against a ban on late-term, partial-birth abortions.

Rather than taking the opportunity to reverse her position, Clinton stood by her vote even though partial-birth abortion is so horrific 14 states have laws banning the procedure.

Additionally, earlier in the debate Clinton said she would “defend Planned Parenthood,” and called abortion a “constitutional right.” In the past she has also famously been quoted saying, “the unborn person has no constitutional rights.”

She even supports using human embryos for scientific research. While Clinton says she would “lift the ban on [embryonic] stem cell research” since it is “just one example of how the president puts ideology before science,” she has also stated she only believes there is a “potential for life at conception” despite scientific consensus proving life does in fact begin at conception.

She has also blatantly ignored the fact Planned Parenthood charges a substantial amount for women’s healthcare compared to life-affirming pregnancy resource centers. Planned Parenthood even charges for ultrasounds and pregnancy tests which can be received for free at any pregnancy resource center.

“I have seen excerpts from [the anti-Planned Parenthood videos]. And I have certainly read about them. And what I am troubled by are the misleading, inaccurate allegations about them that we heard from Republicans at their debate. This is really an attack on Planned Parenthood, which provides a lot of health services, from cancer screenings to contraceptive services, to so many other of the needs women have," Clinton said.

It seems the only misleading claim is Clinton’s claim Planned Parenthood existence is essential to women's healthcare.

Clinton has consistently claimed she would “support a ban on late-term abortions, including partial-birth abortions, so long as the health and life of the mother is protected.” However, when given the chance to vote for banning partial-birth abortion with the exception of the health of the mother, she voted against the ban, despite it meeting her exception standards.

Furthermore, in 2003, in response to being shown drawings demonstrating partial-birth abortion, Senator Hillary Clinton stated “the visual aids show a perfectly formed fetus, and that is misleading. We should have a chart that demonstrates the tragic abnormalities that confront women forced with this excruciatingly difficult decision.” Sen. Rick Santorum asked, “Do we consider a child who may have an abnormality to be less of a child?” to which she dodged the question saying, “Does the Senator's legislation make exceptions for serious life-threatening abnormalities or babies who are in such serious physical condition that they will not live outside the womb?” When Santorum asked “Do you want to create a separation in the law between those children who are perfect and those children who are not? The Americans with Disabilities Act says we treat all of God's children the same,” she back-tracked after implying babies with fetal abnormalities should be aborted stating, “I value every single life and every single person.”

However, Clinton’s voting record proves quite the opposite. Her abortion voting record is as follows:

Voted NO on defining unborn child as eligible for SCHIP

Voted NO on prohibiting minors crossing state lines for abortion

Voted YES on expanding embryonic stem cell research

Voted NO on notifying parents of minors who get out-of-state abortions

Voted NO on criminal penalty for harming unborn fetus during other crime

Voted NO on banning partial birth abortions except for maternal life

Pro-abortion organizations such as EMILY’s List, NARAL and Planned Parenthood even seem to hail Clinton as the queen of abortion, endorsing her, inviting her to speak at events, and providing her with awards and campaign funds.

In fact, Planned Parenthood even presented her the “Champion of the Century” award at their 100th anniversary Gala in 2017.

Therefore, while the left may try to downplay Conway’s new nickname for Clinton, there is no denying Clinton’s war against life.

Watch Kellyanne Conway's appearance on "Fox & Friends" below:

youtube

source http://humandefense.com/kellyanne-conway-calls-hillary-clinton-queen-of-abortion/

#prolife Christian Bible LoveBoth abortion prochoice

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 37 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 37 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Mord did not know what to make of what he was seeing and hearing. He was aboard the deadliest craft that he had ever heard of, and her commander, was crying — — — For enemy dead. He felt guilty about the thoughts of a few minutes before. Putting his arms about her, he held her until she calmed. She parted from him gently and sat him on one of the big cushions next to her.

Getting a grip on herself, Sula said with a cold rage, “When we find who did that to Kurin, I hope that we can take them without loss. If we do have to sink them, I will put them on the bottom without a tear. I have my sailors making inquiries to see if we can find the ones responsible.” Mord was glad that ferocity was not directed at his ship.

Mord seated himself and said, “We also have inquiries under way, as does the Council and a number of ships that are friendly to us.”

The problem of finding evidence solved itself. A young deck-hand of the Grython was brought in late that night, with the symptoms of Ord poisoning. His case was not as advanced as Kurin’s and he responded well to treatment, at first.

“Off with your shirt,” Dr Worran ordered him, intending to see if he still had the strength and coordination to do it. Wordlessly, the young man struggled with what should have been a simple task. The Doctor helped him, observing his eyes and respiration at the same time.

“Where did you get that inflamed patch on your right chest?” she asked him urgently.

He shook his head as if having trouble speaking, then mumbled, “Dunno … It itched a little, but it stopped.”

Doctor Worran picked up his shirt and felt something long in the right pocket. She removed it from his pocket with long tweezers. She applied a thin paste to the point and washed it off carefully.

She burst in on Sula and Mord, holding her find carefully in the tweezers. “Look what I found on that young man who just came in! I’ve a mind to let him die.”

Mord looked with horror at the Ord spine, revealed for what it was by the ugly greenish brown left by the testing paste. It was neatly mounted in a handle. It looked like an ordinary sail maker’s awl. “What ship is he from?” was all that he said, as he carefully looked over the lethal tool.

“The Grython,” answered Doctor Worran.

Mord said thoughtfully, “I would not have expected that. The Grython has been fast friends to the Longin for many Gatherings. We need to talk to this man, if he can still speak.”

They went quickly to the sick bay. Doctor Worran pointed out the inflamed area of right chest. “He was carrying the spine uncovered in his right shirt pocket. The poison worked through the fabric and his skin.”

“I see,” said Sula. “He probably did not know what he was carrying, then. I wonder how he got it?”

The sailor struggled against unwilling muscles to turn his head towards them. His voice was almost inaudible, and he was clearly fighting for the breath to speak at all, “I won it on a dare. A pair of sailors bet me a whole Selked-made sail stitching kit that I couldn’t poke the awl into Kurin’s lunch unseen, for a prank. I didn’t know it would hurt her. When I heard what happened, I took the awl from the kit and started to come here. I didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

“You did well. Who were they?” asked Mord. “What was their ship?”

“I don’t know for sure,” he husked. “I saw one them in the Grandalor’s booth earlier. I did recognize the other, but didn’t realize who he was until too late. He was Silor Elon. I don’t know where he is now.” It was a grim and angry pair of Captains who headed topside. By now the sun was beginning to rise on the eastern horizon.

Mord told his Craft Masters what had happened and added, “This perfidy must be reported to the Council. Who will go with me?” Every hand went up. Master Juris asked to look at the awl.

“There is Selked’s mark. That means that he made this aboard the Grandalor,” he pronounced like it was a doom.

Chapter 12a: Flight of the Grandalor

“Dark Iren devour those fools!” Barad raged. “Nobody will believe that we tried to stop them. We will all swim for their idiocy! By the time that the Council finds their mistake, they will have to send their apologies by way of Iren’s Orcas!”

Mister Timms paused in his duties long enough to agree, saying, “As many of us was involved in one way and another, Sir, I’m sure that you’re right. Many inquired about the Ord and many more worked in the experiments. Best we give the Council time to cool down before we try to explain.”

All about him the crew was quietly and efficiently preparing the Grandalor to get under way. Tanlin was at the small floating dock, greeting each boat and speaking quietly to the new arrivals as the crew inconspicuously came aboard, a few at a time. Occasionally, a boat left the ship with a few folk on it.

Moonlight glittered across the water, pursuing little Dorac over the horizon. All about them, only the stars and the running lamps and masthead lights of the sleeping Naral fleet provided any light. It would be six hours before swift little Dorac rose again, followed shortly by mighty Wohan. Six hours of darkness. Six hours to flee for their lives.

Without tocsins or shouted orders, cables were slipped from the anchorage float and sails were set as silently as the wind allowed. As she began to move, her masthead lights and running lamps were extinguished, one by one. Following the constellation known as the Sea Hawk, the Grandalor raced SSE through the darkness under all of the canvas that she could fly, with no lights showing, straight away from the sleeping Gathering.

As soon as the last of the masthead lanterns of the Naral fleet fell below the horizon, Barad wrote an extensive Log entry and took out his Three Dragons set.

Tanlin, who had just come off duty as First Officer of the Second Night Watch, relaxed into the cushions of one of the cabin’s chairs and looked on with interest.

“W’at’re ye doin’, Luve?”

“Trying to save our lives and our ship, in that order. I have entered the whole true account of Kurin’s poisoning into the Log. It cannot save me. Unless we escape the fleet, I will die for Kurin’s murder. It may well save you and others innocent of the killing.”

“T’at’s a good t’ing t’at ye’re doin’, m’ ‘Eart — — ‘ow’ll T’ree Dragons save us?”

“I have broken the course rose into seven possible tacks. The dice will tell us which way to go. If white lands on a number less than fifty, we hold course for an hour and roll again. Whichever of these two dice eats the other gives us the course to follow, from this table. He held up a tallow-slate with a neatly made table on it. If neither one eats the other, we split the difference for our course. We exclude only courses that we know to be dangerous.

“Roll the first one, Tanlin, and pray to the Dragons that it’s a good cast.”

As the dice rattled in the cup Tanlin thought, ‘E knows t’at ‘e’s doomed. Even i’ we go t’ t’e Arrakans, t’ey won’t shield ‘im from murder, so w’at does ‘e do? ‘E still t’inks o’ gain an’ loss but now ‘is t’ought’s for t’ose close t’ ‘im an’ ‘is crew. ‘Ow many in ‘is place wad do as much? Few. Nane t’at Oi can t’ink o’. An’ Oi married ‘im! Pride swelled in her heart as the dice bounded clattering about the board and came to rest.

They leaned over the board together and she put an arm about his waist. He absently stroked her hair and put an arm around her as he read the fall of the dice.

“Dragon eats skelt, seventy three.” He consulted his chart and figured the correction for the present course in his head. “East-North-East. That will take us across the fleet, just out of their sight.” As he straightened, she wrapped her other arm about him and gave him a spontaneous kiss.

“So close? Shall Oi t’row again?”

“No. A better course could not have been chosen. If there is pursuit and I am sure there will be, it will make us hard to see because of the glare of the early sun. It also cuts back and across our track. Any trying to find us by following our course will be thrown off as well.”

“Oi’ll take care o’ t’e corse change, Luve. Ye’ve ‘ad a ‘orrible day. ‘Ow long do we ‘old ‘t?”

“Seven and a half hours.” He looked down at her for a rare unguarded moment. Why did it take so long to find you? I know that Teralat would have liked you. The memory of his long dead wife hadn’t hurt since he’d realized that he actually respected Kurt— no, Tanlin. He now knew for certain that his feelings had become more than respect.

“Aye, seven an’ a ‘alf ‘ours. So, seventy t’ree? T’e forst digit’s t’e ‘ours an’ t’e second’s t’e minutes by tens?” she questioned as she set the water clock to time the tack.

“Yes. You know, I married you for more than your stunning good looks.”

“Oi know. Ye got t’ose t’.” She flipped her fall of hair saucily as she left. Arriving on deck, she became a First Officer.

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 37 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 34 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 34 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Chapter 11: Selection

Captain Mord, Kurin and a delegation of the Longin’s Craft Masters set out for the Council Pavilion several hours after sunrise. Their large gig was overtaken by Captain Sula and Captain Huld in a long, narrow, very fast rowing boat. Sula was pulling her own oars, and Huld was steering.

In a disgustingly cheerful voice, she called out to them, “What ho, Longin! Have you decided what to do? Is there aught that I can do for you?”

“Be with us as a voice of reason,” replied Captain Mord. “At least you have been able to talk the Council into sanity.”

“Will do!” she answered cheerily, and bent her back to the oars. Her boat quickly disappeared into the throng about the market platforms.

Shortly, the Longin’s delegation was standing before a packed Council, Sula and Huld at their side. The news that the Longin might be opening up Ship’s Business had spread. There was a loud babble of voices that slowly settled down, when Captain Mord raised his hand for attention.

“Yesterday, I said that I would counsel my crew to open up some of our Ship’s Business. They have agreed to do so.”

There was a loud murmur of delight among the assembled Captains.

Mord held up his hands for silence again. “We find the fish by means of special charts, prepared by the Dragon’s Daughter, in connection with our past fishing catch records. She will make charts for your waters, too.” He was interrupted by a loud rumble of approval. Once again he sought silence so that he could proceed. “Her skilled services are not instant, nor are they free. You may inquire of the Craft Masters with me about the cost.” This was met with outright hostility.

“Your charts didn’t cost you anything! Why should we pay?” was about the gentlest reaction. Some were much ruder.

Captain Sula raised her hands for silence, and when she didn’t get it, she picked up a Council bench, dumping Captain Barad unceremoniously to the floor. She ripped a leg off the stool and smashed it against the seat with a loud report. Seeing what she had done, and knowing that few of them had the strength to do it, the rambunctious Captains quieted.

“Their charts were most certainly not free!” she exclaimed. “What would you charge for the completely dedicated use of any of your ships, from one full Wohan to the next? Come, come, give me a reasonable figure. Assume that your ship does nothing in all those weeks but sail under the direction of the cartographer?”

That put a different light on things, and gave them something actual to work with. They began figuring. Discussion ran rampant, and Sula let it. This was constructive work going on.

They answered at last, through Sarfin, Captain of the Dorton, and present leader of the Council, “We are agreed on the value of such a voyage. It comes to 2,600 Strong Skins.”

“Now,” smiled Sula, “you yourselves have set the value of such charts for three home waters. That is how long it took the Longin to make her charts. Expensive? Yes. Paid off? In the Longin’s case, nearly, and in only half a Gathering. Some may take longer, some may be quicker. It will depend on what the charts reveal. I would call it a good risk. Talk to the Longin’s Masters. They have more to say.”

Mord took over again, with a serious face. “We intend to reveal the next part, which is connected to the charts and the exploiting of them. It is a skill of accurate dead reckoning navigation that works in fog or cloudy weather, day or night. This will require an act of the Council. We mean to set up a school for such navigation and certify the navigators through the Council.

“Before any Captain offers debate, we will give a demonstration. Take Bron, one of our cabin boys, and a good pupil, by Kurin’s account, one day’s sail in a small boat, in any direction from here. Let him be blindfolded from before he leaves here, until he gets back. To be sure, follow him in another boat and observe him at all times.”

The demonstration was agreed to. Bron was taken out and put adrift in a small boat, with rations and water, and followed by another small boat, also under sail. At some points, Bron took turnings that mystified his followers until they got caught in the tidal currents that he was avoiding or taking advantage of. He brought both boats unerringly back to the Gathering.

Kurin spent that night and all of the free time that she could staying with Captain Sula aboard the Dark Dragon. Together they visited and talked with many of the Dark Dragon’s Craft Masters in their shops. Everywhere that Kurin looked she saw the vertical lines of what she now realized were a form of writing. Aboard the ship, almost no person went unhooded and those few were all newly recruited and being educated in the Dark Dragon’s ways. Everyone communicated with a sign language unless they had both hands full or there was some other reason.

She even saw the ship’s children, all hooded like their parents carrying daggers and axes. When they sat, using big cushions instead of chairs, they often read from books with the same odd writing in them. Many of the children’s books also had pictures.

The Dark Dragon’s many shops held Kurin spellbound.

The next morning, Barad descended the gang-way to the temporary floating dock beside the Grandalor. He smiled to Tanlin and said, “First Officer Tanlin, on the shelf in our quarters is a sail-sewing kit. We have done with assessing the changes to it. Would you take care of it, please?”

“At once, Ca’tain,” she replied, glad of the duty to destroy the noxious thing.

Barad went to the Captain’s Council. Now I can begin to splice the cables between Grandalor and Longin, he thought as he was rowed to the rafts of the Gathering.

Tanlin descended the companion-ladder near the cabin that she shared with Barad. In the passageway, she met Silor.

“‘Ello, Lad. Oi ‘ope t’at ye donnae mind t’ muckle t’at ye are an errand boy, for now,” she said pleasantly.

“No Ma’am, I don’t mind doing errands,” he answered seriously. “It gives me the chance to meet the Masters and officers as well as learn the layout of the Grandalor. Also, I know that I have to be kept out of sight for the present.”

“T’at’s good. Ca’tain Barad wa’ right about ye bein’ quick. Many wad chafe at t’e necessity. W’at errand are ye about, now?” Silor visibly stood straighter at her praise.

“Mister Morgu sent for me. I’ve an errand for his office. It’s just down here, isn’t it?” He pointed further down the passage.

“Tis, t’ird door t’ t’e left. Oi’ll nae hold ye, t’en. Good morning t’ ye.”

“And to you, Lady Tanlin.”

She slid aside her door and went into the Captain’s cabin. As she got the kit, she noticed, Barad must ‘ave been lookin’ at ‘t. Tis nae square on t’e shelf. Tucking it under her arm, she went the familiar way to the sickbay.

Doctor Corin was busy at the apothecary cabinet when she arrived. The sickbay was otherwise empty, so Tanlin raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

The Doctor gestured at the dozen parchment packages that he was preparing and explained, “Stomach cures for the crew who over do it at the food booths.”

“Oi see. Just bein’ prepared. Wise. Take care o’ t’is for us, will ye?” She handed him the kit.

“Is the spine that the Captain mentioned in the Standing Orders in here?” he asked.

“We t’ink t'is, Doctor. We just found ‘t,” she said easily.

“I’ll dispose of it properly as soon as I have these powders done,” he said, relieved to see the kit unused. “That thing is a danger to us all, so long as it exists.”

“Oi leave ‘t t’ ye, Doctor. M’ t’anks — — for evert’ing. Oi’ll be in t’e mess. ‘Elmsmon’s meeting. Let m’ know w’en tis dune.”

“I’ll do that,” he replied, turning back to his powders.

In the mess, Tanlin handed out tallow-slates and copies of a small book to the assembled helmsmen. It appeared to have been hastily produced.

“What’s this?” asked Kreul.

“Ye’re ‘elmsmon, Secund Day Wotch, Kreul, aren’t ye?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, Kreul,” she said in the tone of a lecturer, “yer quest’n’s a valid ane. Tis an intellectual exercise. T’e Forst Officers are going t’ study t’is manual as well. Ye all know t’at t’e Ca’tain ‘as an interest in t’e Boren Current Wars. We got t’is manual from t’e Soaring Bird’s boot’. T’ey an’ t’e Dark Dragon fought in t’ose wars. T'is knowledge t’at naebody else in t’e Naral fleet ‘as ever studied. Wit’ luck, nane will ever need ‘t ‘ere. So, wye study ‘t? T’e Ca’tain wants us t’. Good enow?”

It was. The four helmsmen and two helmswomen bent over the book and read the title page.

The Strategy and Tactics of War

Sula Corin Dark Dragon

Commissioned by order of the Combined

Councils of Captains and Masters of the Corliss fleet.

“Ma’am, I’m Darkistry, Third Night Watch. We’ll study this if the Captain wants us to but Dragons grant that we never need something like this.”

“Darkistry, ye are curiously close t’ t’e opening paragraph o’ t’is book.” Tanlin picked it up and opened it, reading aloud.

“T’e necessity o’ t’e knowledge t’at t’e Councils ‘ave ordered m’ t’ write ‘as been proven by t’e attacks o’ t’e Boren fleet upon us. Dragons grant t’at t’is, o’ all knowledge, be left on dry land for lack o’ necessity in t’e future.”

She laid the book aside and said seriously, “T’e date places t’is book at t’e end o’ t’e Forst Boren Current War. T’e knowledge ‘ere,” she laid her hand on the book, “preserved t’e Corliss fleet in t’e next twa wars.”

“Did ye know,” her eyes swept the six, “t’at t’ere are times wen t’e ‘elmsmon’s orders override anybody but t’e Ca’tain ‘imsel’? We’ll skip t’e strategy section. Read ‘t on yer ane, i’ ye find ‘t interesting.

“Macoul, read t’ us from t’e start o’ part twa, Tactical Considerations.”

Macoul picked up his copy and leafed through to the place indicated. He began, “The helmsman’s duty is defined by the Maximum/Minimum Rule. Cause Maximum damage to enemy craft while allowing Minimum damage to his own ship. This may be accomplished by …”

Doctor Corin interrupted, “I’m sorry, Lady Tanlin. I must speak to you privately.”

“O’ course, Doctor.” Turning to her left, she handed her underlined copy of Strategy and Tactics of War and her tallow-slates of notes to the startled woman there. “Darkistry, will ye take over t’e meeting for m’? Somet’ing ‘as come up t’at demands m’ attention elsew’ere.”

After her initial surprise, Darkistry simply said, “Continue, Macoul.”

Macoul’s soft voice followed the Doctor and Tanlin into the passage way. As soon as they were private, she asked urgently, “W’at’s t’e alarm, Doctor?” though she had a sinking feeling that she knew.

Wordless, he held out the awl from the kit that she had given him. The red test paste on its shaft reveled that it was not Ord.

“T’e case?” she asked quietly.

“Also uncontaminated,” he replied grimly.

“T’ey’ve been switched!” She exclaimed in outrage. Putting her hand to her forehead, she thought, Silor in t’e passage by t’e Ca’tain’s door. Morgu … She looked up, terrible in her rage. “Tis mutiny! Bot’ Standin’ an’ General Orders’re bein’ violated!

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 34 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 6 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 6 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Kurin and her class watched the tides carefully. At the highest tides, they could get useful data to guide boats doing traditional soundings. The boats were a necessity to get the detail vital for so dangerous an area.

The task was complicated further by the seaweed mats growing everywhere and making it difficult going for the boats. The shoals were thirty to sixty feet down, most of the time.

For a reference point to base all of her measurements from Kurin chose a shoal that was easily seen at all tides by the violently swirling currents that it created. Small boats were sent out to take soundings, their positions controlled by the officers using the range finder and Kurin’s quick, precise beating of directions to the boatmen on the hailing drum.

As quickly as one boat was positioned and began its sounding, she turned the big tubular drum in its swivel to repeat the process for the next boat. Its sound carrying great distances across open water, enabled them to map a mile from the ship in all directions, a circle two miles across. The chart began to grow, as each new reef or safe channel was added, circle by overlapping circle. It took nearly a whole Wohan to finish it to Kurin’s satisfaction.

A Dragon tide could drop the sea level twenty five feet in under three hours if conditions were bad. That was not enough time for a ship to escape these reefs, as others had found before. This necessitated keeping the Longin in safe waters beyond the shoals at all times.

With the Captain’s encouragement, Kurin’s class in how the oceans spoke with the deep waves, and what they told, began to understand what she was teaching. Children and young people fared best at feeling the waves. Older people had spent a lifetime filtering out what they were now trying to feel but were often best at making and reading the charts, based on what others told them. The older folks teamed up with the younger ones made a formidable combination. Only a few of the adults, Captain Mord among them, were able to set aside a lifetime’s habit of ignoring the ship’s roll and pitch and learn to feel the sea anew.

As the two charting methods worked together, the true form of the Ship Killer began to emerge. It was a large group of nearly circular areas of coral with central lagoons filled with dangerous coral heads and other obstructions. Each ring or group of rings had wide, shallow, treacherous edges. There were safe passages and some that were trickier. At most tides, the whole complex could be sailed over with serene security. The Longin only drew twenty four feet.

At the celebration to mark the end of the charting, a copy of the new map was weighted down on a big table in the mess for all to see.

Master Juris was looking at the plot with a jaundiced eye. He was soured that his new journeyman, actually still his apprentice, had got so much attention and spent so much time away from the boat shop. As a result, he had paid as little attention as possible to the whole process. His mood was worsened by the fact, plain to see, that he had been right in the first place. It was time well spent.

He ‘accidentally’ slopped a little of his water on a note in one corner of the parchment sheet as he leaned forward to stab with his finger at a feature.

“Pulled a Silor there, didn’t you Kurin? That whole big lagoon’s not charted,” he sneered.

Before Kurin could react to such an outrage, Silor finally took his chance to even a score, even if it meant defending Kurin. “White Head, there did the right thing! If you were able to pay attention to anything at all,” he riposted, “You’d have seen the note that you slopped water on! ‘L-24 not charted — Wide Wing rookery!’ We all talked about it at meals, trying to figure a way to do that lagoon.” He grinned triumphantly and held a sounding line out to Master Juris. “Go on, you do it!”

Master Juris looked around the mess hall for support and found none. In a small voice he said, “If those Sea Hawks even thought I was a threat to their young, they’d all attack at once. I’d be ripped to shreds!”

Gently and utterly crushingly, Silor said, “I know.” He laid the sounding line on the table by Master Juris and left before anything could spoil his moment.

“Look here, Captain,” Old Sorra, one of the Longin’s most experienced fishermen, gestured at the new Cliftos Reach chart. “Here’s my notes on places where we’ve had luck before, and here’s that chart we made just a few weeks ago.”

Captain Mord opened the window of his cabin for more light, illuminating the precise navigational water-clock hung in a gimbal on the forward wall, and above it and to both sides of it the shelves of books. The Logs of the Longin occupied nearly an entire shelf. There were books of tables of the angles of all three moons and the sun, for navigation. In addition there were books full of the Laws and traditions of the Naral fleet and others besides. His bed occupied the space between the bookshelves and the window. It, like almost everything, including the ship itself, was made of glue laminated Strong Skin. The surface layers of the glue in his cabin had been tinted in light blues and greens and inlaid with expensive iridescent shell in abstract fish-like designs around the door and portholes. Fish and seabirds of shell sported along the edges of his book shelves as well.

He studied the notes and the chart together, a few minutes. He smiled the smile of one who senses a fortune near at hand. “Glue Fish,” he pronounced. We always catch them near here in the early part of the day.” He pointed at the three underwater hills near one end of their Cliftos Reach home waters.

“It appears that if we set our drag net to fish about a hundred feet or a bit deeper, we might find the Glue Fish schools where they are sheltering for the day.”

“Exactly my thought,” Sorra replied, gesturing ahead, toward the bow. “We are already making for the place, in hopes of a few Glue Fish and some those tasty little Skelt. If we drag a net deep down through there, what harm?”

Two days of sailing later, they deployed a net and adjusted the lines to pull it behind the ship, a hundred feet down. Only an hour later, it was pulled in filled with flopping riches. Glue Fish.

While the big boats were out fishing deep for the Glue Fish, smaller four and six oared boats spread nets near the floating seaweed mats to ensnare schools of Skelt. The wild paddle ducks nesting on the mats thought that concentrating the Skelt was a fine idea and promptly made a nuisance of themselves by diving into the netted fish and helping themselves.

Marad, a journeyman cook was in charge of the big solar cookers used to process the fish. The reek of boiling Glue Fish permeated the ship, but nobody minded. It was the scent of wealth.

“Hi, Marad, can I help?”

“I don’t know Kurin. Can you reach high enough to skim the cooker?”

“Sure, if I stand on something.”

I’m not comfortable with that, Kurin. The tallow is awful hot, and the sea isn’t the smoothest today. Why don’t you bring molds for me to fill from that stack? Then you put them over there to cool. When the tallow gets hard there is a big tub of water that you can quench them in. The deck-hands can take the finished blocks to the cargo handlers for stowage.”

“You’ve given her my job,” protested Gren, one of the apprentices.

“Well you can have the job, if you want it, but I thought that you and Mikka were ready to handle cookers number three and four by yourselves.”

Gren visibly swelled with pride at being given the responsibility. “I think that we can handle them,” was his answer, along with a fast check of the cookers’ alignment with the sun.

Kurin had used the time to get several molds ready. Tallow from the Glue Fish was already rising to the surface of the big cooker. Marad let it get to a thick layer before he began skimming with a wide scoop. Each scoop load went into the waiting mold until it was full. Marad was careful not to let any water flow into the molds along with the tallow. Kurin took them away to cool and quench, which freed the blocks from the molds.

The deck-hands were fetching the tallow blocks of the apprentices, but not Kurin’s. Silor told them, “Let the little show-off do some real work. She can bring her blocks to us.”

When Kurin saw that they were not coming for her blocks, she began carrying them to the deck-hands, without complaint. Captain Mord came on deck to take a sighting of Carsis, the middle sized of the three moons, and saw at a glance what was happening. He took his sighting and went below. Shortly, he came up a companion-ladder near the bow and quietly watched.

After a bit he wrote on a tallow-slate and came down the deck to Silor. Kurin could not hear the exchange, but it was short and sharp. Silor signed the tallow-Slate sulkily. As Captain Mord went back to his cabin, deck-hands began picking up her finished blocks, too.

“Mumph,” grunted Marad looking into the cookers, a measure of fish in hand, “Doesn’t look like I can fit any more fish into either of these. Kurin, drag over the spare pots and put them into their cradles. Don’t want to spill anything.”

“Sure, Marad,” returned Kurin, glad to be real help. “I thought that the pots were only half full of water when we started.”

“They were, but we’ve been adding fish steadily. As they cook down, we get tallow on top, but what on the bottom?”

“Glue,” she replied chagrined, “should have thought of it.”

Marad attached lifting tackle to the big pots. One by one he brought them over, clamped on a handle, and poured the boiling water off into the new pots. Setting the glue filled pots aside, he lifted the water pots into the focus of the reflectors and added more fish and water to make up the losses from boiling. He used the crane and handle pour the glue through a strainer, and into more molds that Kurin had waiting.

Soon a procession of glue blocks, one of the two monetary standards of all of the world of Sea, was heading to the hold for stowage.

Every so often, Marad had to clean the detritus of muscle, bone bits and skin from the strainer. He dropped the waste onto a sheet of greased cloth and let it cool and harden so that it could be thrown away.

The cycle repeated itself endlessly, and would for a week.

On that first day, Roper came by to watch. He and several of the other children were too small to help. He grabbed several of the chunks of Glue Fish waste.

Holding them, he asked Kurin, “How deep is the bottom around here? Silor says that it’s so far down that you couldn’t hit it if there was no water and you fell all day.”

She grinned, “Either Silor is pulling your leg or he’s run up on dry land. Either way, he’s wrong. It’s only about two hundred feet down, not as deep as the Longin is long, from stern to forward cargo hatch.”

“Oh, then I’ll need about two hundred fifty feet of number two cord,” said Roper scampering off with his offal.

“What was that about, I wonder?” Marad asked.

“I have no idea, but he wants to reach the bottom for something. Maybe he wants to try for flounders.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 44 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 40 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Chapter 15: Old Crab

Kurin got to ride on a catamaran sailboat as she was taken to the Gathering rafts. She watched everything with interest from leaving the Dark Dragon to arrival at the docking area. As she was lifted up to the raft deck, Kurin realized that most of the ship booths were taken down and stowed. Only the food booths and a few others were left.

The crowd around Marad’s booth showed that he still had his flair for dealing with the public.

“Let’s go to Marad’s for some food!” said Kurin enthusiastically.

Tousling Kurin’s hair, Sula replied, “You go eat. I have to make my report to the Council.” She strode off to the Council Pavilion. Kurin, supported by Doctor Worran and Seve, a deck-hand from the Dark Dragon, made her way to Marad’s and food.

Most people, seeing that it took two people to support her, stayed back and left Kurin alone. She could hear the whispers, though.

“I heard that she lived through Ord poisoning.”

“Not what I heard. Someone told me that they faked …” that one ended in a thud and a scuffle, with a “You take that back!”

“Weak as a new hatched bird, poor thing!”

And one that got her interest, “Get Roper, he’s got her trade chits!”

Kurin steered through the crowd and entered Marad’s booth, needing both Doctor Worran and Seve to keep her on her feet. Marad brought out a chair, when he saw her coming. “Good grief! Dragon Hair, it’s good to see you! You look like bird breath smells!” He paused in seating Kurin, to stare. Kurin followed his eye and grinned.

“Doctor Worran, meet Marad, one of the best cooks around. Marad, this is Doctor Worran, from the Dark Dragon. She saved my life. This good man is Seve, he’s from the Dark Dragon, too.”

“Now you’ve done me in, Kurin. I’ll always feed you to pay you back for that tutoring, but you’ve gone and brought an exotic beauty and a friend as well. If I don’t feed you all, I couldn’t live with myself, and there goes all of my profit.”

Belying his words, busy helpers bustled about his small kitchen, serving the hungry crowd. “Now what can I get you fine people?”

“Do you have any crab or lobster left?” asked Kurin without much hope.

“No live ones, Kurin, but I have some steamed crab cakes, made from flake blocks. They’re just about to come out. There’s sweet or tart dipping sauces to go with ‘em.”

They were just tucking into the crab cakes, when Sula came striding up. Her business with the Council was done for now. Marad saw her coming and had a crab cake waiting.

“This looks like it was a good place to come,” Sula said, eying her crab cake like a hungry sea bird. She joined the group, and Kurin introduced her to Marad.

“I wish that we could have these on the way home,” Doctor Worran said wistfully. She was industriously cleaning every bit of crab off the Strong Skin board that it had been steamed on. “Unfortunately, crab just doesn’t keep very long.”

Kurin and Marad looked at each other, nodding slowly. He said, “That crab was over a Gathering old and nowhere near the end of its shelf life.”

Sula pounced on that, “How do you manage that, or is it Ship’s Business?”

“It is,” said Marad leaning on the counter and displaying a waxy looking block, a little bigger than a man’s hand, “but it’s Captain’s Discretion. We were hoping to sell the process. I can sell you up to two hundred of these one pound crab blocks that are surplus in our pantry. We have a few tons in one of the holds, too, but I have no authority over them. If folk in this fleet know that they are eating old crab or fish, they won’t touch it. It doesn’t sell, and we need the pantry space. You can put up almost any edible fish or other food the same way. Keeps good for two to three Gatherings.”

Just then Roper came proudly up to Kurin. The grown folk paused and watched as the young ones did business. “I sold all of your toys, and got good prices, too. I saved the chits for you, cause I was sure that you’d come back.” He dumped a whole pouch of trade scrip in her lap. “There’s thirty four skins, twenty two blocks and eighteen bits.”

Kurin, eyes wide, looked into the pouch, “And you put away my booth. I saw. You have been busy, Roper.” She was counting from the pouch.

“Master Juris showed me how to fold it and where to put everything.”

“Then you have earned this,” said Kurin, handing him scrip.

His eyes grew wide in turn. “Five whole skins and five blocks! This is the most I’ve ever got! I’ll go to Alor and put it in my account right away.” he scampered off.

Sula said, “I see why you trusted him with your booth.”

Just then, Captain Mord emerged from the Council Pavilion and Kurin, without thinking, tried to stand up and wave. She did call, “Captain! Over here at Marad’s!” Sula and Doctor Worran caught her as her big muscles went lax, and eased her back into her chair.

Captain Mord, seeing her slump, came at a run. “Are you OK, Kurin?” he asked in concern.

Before Kurin could pull words together, Sula answered for her. “She’s fine, Captain Mord. She is recovering nicely. I’ve been Ord poisoned twice, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“We owe you thanks, Captain Sula,” he said, crouching in front of Kurin and looking her over to be sure the she really was there and OK. He looked over her shoulder at Sula and said warmly, “Your account of her navigational ability in unfamiliar waters, turned the tide. They were going to close the school and make us pay refunds because they thought she was too sick.”

“Were — — what do they want now?” asked Doctor Worran, curiosity alight in her eyes.

“Only to buy a master chart of the Naral - Cliftos current system — — Bottom and all — — Dragon Sea to Equator.” He was grinning as he waited for his bombshell to go off.

Sula was the first to realize the magnitude of the task. Eyes shocked to wide green pools, she asked, “How many ship-Gatherings are they going to pay for?”

“Two, up front. If they like the initial results, up to four more. In total, a minimum of 50,000 skins and as high as 250,000 skins. We will conduct the school as we make the chart. That is a separate income.”

Kurin, dancing in her chair with excitement, said, “Captain, if you grin any wider your teeth will show behind you!”

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Sula. “It’s enough to build a ship like mine!” As she thought, she gazed at a long winged Sea Hawk soaring overhead, its shadow causing other, smaller, birds to panic into flight or swarm under awnings for protection.

“You might even have some left over. It makes my business with you seem small.”

“Do you need to sell or buy?” asked Mord, instantly curious and guarded.

“To buy. Both provisions and a process covered by your Ship’s Business. I am told that it is available at your discretion.

“We have just become aware of your block preservation process for fish and other food. We want to buy all of the block preserved food that you can spare, and the process itself.��

“What do you offer for all of that?” asked Mord, carefully neutral, preparing to haggle.

“I have the entire prepared hide of a nine tonne Hag. It is already stretched and dried. I will sign a non-revelation agreement for the nearby fleets, so long as it does allow us to reveal the process to the Winternight, Corlis and Barant fleets.”

Mord was shaken by the magnitude of the offer. It was enough to equip five ships with the best of distillation equipment, kitchen fireboxes and the array of special pots needed for cooking over flame, and specialized fire boxes for their boat-shops as well. Mord said, “You must want this very badly, to offer so much. If the hide passes Master Juris’ examination, you have a deal.” He shook her hand, and sent for Alor to draw up the necessary agreements.

Turning to Marad, Captain Mord leaned on the counter and asked, “You set this up, didn’t you?”

“Well, Sir, what I did was give them some crab cakes, and then show them a block. After that, I told them that I could sell them some provisions but you had to sell them the process and goods in the hold.”

“You did well, and there will be a bonus for you, as well as shares for the whole crew. Now, would you please get Master Murel so that he can explain the process and demonstrate the equipment? Also, he needs to set someone to sorting which blocks we can sell, including the ones in the cargo hold.”

Turning back to Sula, he asked, “Why do you want this so badly?”

The circling bird became an object of extreme interest. Sula, watching it, felt past pain and tears well up again. Her voice shook as she answered, “There were twenty seven reasons on my ship alone in the last two wars. Three of those reasons were children.” She sat heavily and braced her arms on the table. Her voice broke and she began to cry.

TO BE CONTINUED

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 5 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 5 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Chapter 2: Maps

Climbing down the companion-ladder, into the lowest hold, Captain Mord inspected the live cargo vats. They were so big and heavy that they had required a complete change of the ship’s ballast system. Major changes in a ship were always a risk, and he was proud of his crew for taking this one. The Longin now handled better than ever before. It had paid for itself many times over. He remembered how it had been and could still see, in his mind’s eye, the single, much smaller vat that had originally held the Longin’s mussel beds for weaving and rope fibers. It had been used to bring their first cargo of live crabs to the Gathering. That bed was still there, much enlarged, to the delight Master Cirde, the weaver, and Mistress Daeron, of the rope walk.

Now, one full half of the lowest hold space was devoted to live cargo, mostly crabs and lobsters. The vats could be sealed to prevent slopping in bad weather, but the lids were normally off to allow for the continual inspection and feeding that living crabs needed. A hand-crank powered bucket line brought fresh sea water up the side of the ship , where an adjustable sluice brought it to the desired vat. There was even a draining system designed to ensure that the vats did not lose too much water during changes. The changed water went into the bilges where a second bucket line carried it up and discharged it over the side.

Silor’s voice could be heard through the hatches, “Crabs coming down!” The call was followed shortly by a loaded holding net, hanging from the crane line. The deck-hand assigned to the cargo hold snagged the crane line deftly with a boat-hook and pulled it to a traveling crane, hung from the overhead. He attached the net of crabs to the traveler and released the crane line, to which he fastened an empty holding net.

“Lift away!” he called up. The holding net disappeared up through the hatches. The deck-hand pushed the crabs down to the holding vat that he was loading and emptied them into it. A few just did not want to release the net and had to be encouraged to let go with the boat hook. From the holding vat the crabs were picked out, sorted, and their claws tied shut by older children, experienced in this tricky work. The processed crabs were given to the deck hand who took them to the appropriate cargo vats.

Strolling over to the holding vat, the Captain looked in at the crabs.

“Good sized, aren’t they?” he asked one of the children who was tying claws shut to keep the crabs from hurting each other during their time on the ship.

“Yessir,” the child said, concentrating on not getting pinched.

Satisfied that all was well, the Captain went back up the companion-ladder. Shortly, one of the cooks came down and began selecting several hundred crabs. They went back up by crane.

That night at dinner, the serving crew (serving was a rotating duty that everybody, including the Captain, got) brought in the usual steamed fish-cakes and seaweed salad, and water to drink.

Instead of sitting they remained standing, leaning casually against the ribs of the ship, next to the hull. The ribs arched over from the hull and became the deck beams above them. The servers were obviously waiting for something. They were grinning.

Clard, Master of the Ship’s Drums, and formal announcer got up. “Captain Mord Halyn has an announcement!”

That cut the usual dinnertime hubbub to nothing. Smiling jovially, the Captain said, “It has been an interesting and productive day. Kurin has showed us something completely new. We have found and proved a new crabbing area. I know that most of you are curious about today’s demonstration. The Longin’s Craft Masters have conferred and decided that it is not a Craft.”

Here Silor grinned triumphantly.

The Captain went on, “If it were a Craft, it would have to be registered with the fleet Council, and the basics of it shared to all ships of the fleet. As a skill, it is ours alone, and that is what we propose.”

Silor looked resentful, and then even more so as Master Juris held up two fingers, pointed to his fish-cakes, and made a come-hither gesture. With ill grace, he handed them over. As the Captain continued, Master Juris divided the two cakes with his fellow Masters.

“To celebrate all of this, the cooks have steamed up some of those crabs! Everybody gets a whole one! Since Kurin found the place and gave us the new skill, she gets one for each thing.” He paused and managed to look as if he’d just thought of something. “I’m not sure that it’s at all fair,” he paused again and exclaimed, “She gets more than me!” Then he grinned to show that he was kidding and sat to laughter. The servers went into the galley, came back with laden trays to distribute. Everybody started cheerfully cracking their crabs.

Silor glared darkly at Kurin who was tucking into her dinner with busy chopsticks at the journeyman’s table. If she hadn’t been showing off, I’d have all of my fish-cakes.

The Captain waited until everyone was near done to make a further announcement, “The success of this experiment has been enough to convince me of the reality of Kurin’s gift. What I propose, for the approval of the ship’s crew, is this. We should leave off our current fishing at once. We ought to take the time to make such charts as this,” he held up the chart that Kurin had made of the deep reef below them, “for all of our waters. Such charts could greatly improve all of our fishing. We have sufficient stores for the project. This Ship’s Business is open for discussion.”

The Longin had three fairly widely separated patches of ‘home waters’ that she worked. One, the richest, was a maze of reefs in the tropics, known as the Ship Killer. In times past, it had earned its name.

The others were in the north temperate zone, over two weeks of sailing from the tropic. One was in the Naral Sea and the other in the Cliftos Reach, separated by three days of fair weather sailing.

Everybody began discussing the proposal with their neighbors. There was much excited talk and hand waving. Cliques of crew-folk began to form. One group, mostly deck-hands, formed around Silor. They were opposed to the whole notion. It meant many course changes and much raising and lowering of sail. In short, a great deal of extra work for them.

Silor paced as he formulated his opposition. “Captain, Masters and crew, we deck-hands think that this notion is foolishness. Kurin can draw her pictures as we work our waters, as she did for this one. We can find no harm in letting the child do that. Diverting the whole ship because she was lucky once is madness. We are of the opinion that she simply guessed that this shallows was here because of the turn that the Naral Current takes. Anyone who studied the current could have thought of that. Should we lose valuable fishing time to pamper the white-haired brat? She has already gotten too much of this ship’s time.”

Cirde, Master Weaver responded, “As you say, Kurin is a child, now. That will only be until the Master’s Council approves her journeyman’s status at the next Gathering. However, she is welcome in the weaving shop, though she is not my apprentice. She listens well and works hard. I can never think of a time that she showed me a finished work that she could not repeat. That is how we recovered the secret of Longin Lace after Cat left us. She has just showed us a new finished work.

“I have never heard her brag. I believe that she can repeat this charting, to our benefit. But this is based solely on my experience with her.

“This is a matter of navigation. Let us defer to those who are skilled in the art. They have said that her talent is remarkable. I believe them.”

Clard, Master of the ship’s tocsin and hailing drums, added, “I second that. Anyone who thinks that what Kurin shows is only luck has their eyes closed and has left their wits on dry land.

“My experience of her is like Master Cirde’s. I wish that she were my apprentice. She has learned hailing drum talk faster than anybody in my experience. She knows every tocsin beat as well, and has been allowed to stand watch. In spite of this, I have never heard her brag, either. What she says she can do, she can do. Every Craft Master here,” he gestured expansively, “knows her worth.

“As with Master Cirde, I will trust those who know navigation. Remember this, as well, she predicted twenty fathoms depth. The sounding was twenty one. All of her chart that has been checked is as good. These charts could mean profit in both the short,” he waved a crab leg, “and long term.”

Master Juris stuck an oar in to hit Silor publicly once again. In a sarcastic voice he said, “Kurin makes boats instead of breaking them. I trust her. Let us vote. I am in favor.”

Captain Mord called the vote, which went to the charting expedition. Only a seething Silor and his adherents voted against.

The Longin began the first of the many carefully spaced passes back and forth over the first of her three fishing waters. Kurin’s mapping table was placed near to the stern, just out of the tiller-walk. This was an arc of deck, specially roughened to give good footing to the steersman. The table itself was a giant tallow-slate with several different styli to make an assortment of different kinds of marks.

As often as he could spare the time, Captain Mord would look on at the growing rough chart. When he took sightings, he told Kurin the latitude and longitude, so that the information could be used to give the chart scale. It was an odd collection of lines at the moment. With the Captain looking over her shoulder, she nodded to herself, made a counting type bobbing motion with her stylus hand and reached for the table. She quickly drew several lines with different styli.

“Would it distract you to ask what you are doing?” the Captain’s mellow voice came over her shoulder.

Without looking up, she replied, “No, Sir. It would probably help me to keep track of things.”

“Good. I would like to understand how this is done.” He gestured to the others that he had gathered to sit quietly. They did.

After a few moments of collecting her thoughts, she began, “Around here, the main deep wave comes from that direction.” She pointed. “It has a length of twenty pulse beats, and it has a very slight rise and fall, which means pretty deep water over there, say two hundred fathoms, at a guess. When I do the area functions I will know for sure.” Then she pointed off to the starboard bow. “From over that way I feel another wave, crossing the main wave. It is short and high. It has been getting shorter as we sail along this course. It is down to 9 pulses long and it is over three times as high. There is a high spot in the bottom over there that causes the main wave to pile up and bend as it goes around it. That is what makes the high short wave. The intersection of these waves is subject to a geometric analysis that will yield contour lines. I drew that in like so … .” she trailed off as she realized that more than just the Captain’s shadow had fallen on the charting table.

She turned to discover ten people, some of them older children, a few of the Craft Masters and the ship’s off duty-officers.

Captain Mord said, without apology, “You said that you could teach people. I have drawn together your first class. I have set up another for two Wohans hence. That may not be enough time for the first class, but perhaps we can work around that. This knowledge is too important to the ship not spread it so that it cannot be lost or forgotten.”

Kurin looked at him in surprise. How could it be that important? I’m just a kid. I expected to improve our crabbing a bit, that’s all. Me, teach the Captain and Masters? I wish Cat were here, or my dad. They’d know how to do it. The emptiness within her where being loved and safe had been, threatened to engulf her. I expect the Captain’s right though, he usually is. If I have people around me close, I won’t be so alone. Aloud, she said, “Very well, Captain. Students must be a able to read, write and figure. Time will tell if they can learn to do the navigation and charting.” She turned to the class. “You will all need tallow-slates and styli. You will also need a pair of dividers and a straight edge.” She paused, looking absent for a moment, and marked her chart.

“Did anyone feel the change in the waves, just then?” she asked.

It was one of the younger of the children, a cabin boy named Bron who held up a hand. “It was feeling kind of irregular, like you said, there was two different waves sort of bumping across each other. Now it feels smoother, like maybe one of them has gone away?” he questioned cautiously.

“Yes,” said Kurin, “it has. We have passed the high place in the bottom and the wave change it made. I’ve put that on the chart like so . …”

The arduous task of covering every mile of the Longin’s home fishing waters, east to west, then north to south, produced a chart like none ever seen before in the Naral fleet. It showed the contours and depth of the bottom, the location and direction of all of the permanent currents, and where the tidal currents flowed, with a table to calculate their speed and direction by the phases of the moons and the elevation of the sun. It also showed the shape, direction and patterns made by the long, deep waves.

The results surprised everybody. There were more shallows than anybody had dreamed, and there was a monstrously deep chasm that cut across the bottom, dividing sea-floor into unequal halves. Its depth was beyond what Kurin could detect.

After a week of charting, they moved on to the next of their three home waters, further south. This one proved to be a mostly level plain, varying in depth but averaging only a few hundred feet below the keel, sloping up to the east, where there were high humps, rising to within seventy or eighty feet below the surface.

Nothing betrayed the presence of the underwater hills except a permanent seaweed mat that was anchored to them. The paddle ducks in their coop up forward squawked and cackled at their wild cousins nesting on the mat.

The Ship Killer reefs of the Longin’s tropic home waters proved trickier. The reefs stopped most of the long waves that Kurin’s ability relied on. She mapped what she could, but it was less than a third of what was needed. She found a compromise.

TO BE CONTINUED

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 3 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 3 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Chapter 1a: Shipwreck and Plot

The Grandalor was a busy ship. Captain Barad saw to that. Happiness did not even enter the picture. His own happiness had been shattered long ago. Captain Barad did not care about other people’s happiness.

He had been navigating a precise southerly course for many days. The Grandalor had passed the equator over three days past and was deep into the territory of the Arrakan fleet. He had done this before. With the permission of the fleets and ships upon whose home waters he intruded, it was both legal and approved, though such trade contact was not common.

The Captain of the Grandalor had found a profitable trade, completely legal in the Arrakan fleet but of seriously debatable legality in the Naral fleet that he hailed from. The sale of human indentures was a dangerously gray area. Slavery and illegal by both Great and fleet law? Perhaps. A prepaid labor contract and perfectly legal? Perhaps. It had never been tested in the Naral fleet’s Councils. That element of risk delighted Captain Barad.

Barad got the people for his trade in the simplest possible way. On a case by case basis, he took many of those sailors who were not wanted by any other ship, if he thought that they could profit by a last chance. These people were trained in useful skills, and the reading and writing of Arrakan. Skilled indenture contracts sold for higher prices than those of ordinary seamen and women.

Arrakan law strictly regulated the trade. Most of the price went to the indentured him or herself. The broker of the deal was allowed only a small profit and certain documented expenses. After the number of Gatherings set out in the contract had passed, the indentured became a free member of the crew of the Arrakan ship that bought his or her services. Despite the restrictions, the trade was well worth the time and effort.

Almost strangely, it was rare that anyone had to be forced go south to the Arrakans. Many, seeing the rise of their friends over the passing Gatherings, volunteered. It was a way out for those who wished to get free of the Grandalor. A fair dice shot at happiness and a new life.

Many of those that he took in stayed and joined his crew. The quiet disappearance of the others helped to create the Grandalor’s sinister reputation. Being what they were, the scupper sweepings that none other wanted, the crew kept the trade a secret and reveled in the reputation that it created.

“Sails, Ho!” came the looked for call from the Wide Wing’s nest lookout. “Dhow rigged, three masts!”

With satisfaction, Captain Barad scanned the horizon and found the ship against a background of high clouds, pebbled in appearance like the hide of a Wing Ray but translucent. He turned to his First Officer, “That will be the Princamorn, Mister Timms. We have twenty to go to the Arrakans, and every one a genuine volunteer. Prepare the hailing drum.”

“Aye, Sir,” replied Timms. Turning, he sent a cabin-boy to get the watch drummer. He was interrupted by the lookout.

“They’re in trouble! Foresail’s down and looks like the mast with it!”

Mister Timms immediately changed his order. “Benj, for Dragons’ sake! Have the drummer tocsin ALL HANDS!” Benj ran. On Sea, shipwreck was the worst thing that could happen. The staccato beat of the watch drum called. The entire crew boiled to the deck as fast as they could run.

Captain Barad strode back and forth as he addressed his crew. “The Princamorn is apparently on a reef. These are not strangers to be looted. We have dealt with these folk for many Gatherings. Bring survivors to the deck or sickbay as needed. Galley hands, get food and warm water ready. These climes are warmer than we are used to but a stretch in the water can still chill severely.

“I need Doctor Corin to select as many as he may need to man the sickbay. The rest of you stay assembled. We need to put a fast boat over the side to lead us and help keep reef watch. Bosun Modanet, see to it! We will need cutting tools, ropes and pries for salvage work. Get the equipment on deck! Prepare all boats for immediate launch. Get the Strong Skin harpoons ready! We need to keep the area safe if we can — and we can always use the hides! Standard bounties apply!

“Mister Timms, I leave the noon sighting to you. Get me the …” he paused and scanned the heavens, “angles for Dorac and Wohan at noon exactly. Put the raw figures on my chart table. Do our position if you wish but I will have to convert it for the Arrakan navigational system.”

“Aye, Sir!” he turned to the assembled sailors. “You heard the Captain! Jump to it!”

The crew jumped. It was not long before the Grandalor was laid to about a fourth of a mile from the wrecked ship. A shallow coral reef prevented closer approach. Normally it could have been sailed across with impunity but a Dragon tide caused by an alignment of all three moons and the sun had temporarily lowered the sea to a fatal level. The trapped Princamorn had been sailing over a large area of shallow coral when the Dragon tide dropped the safe sea from under her keel.

The doomed ship had tried to outrace the drastically lowering tide to the safety of a lagoon. She had made it — — — almost. In the supposed safe water she had hit a tall head of coral. Her foremast and sail were down. The main mast and mizzen were intact but the main-yard, fractured by the force of the impact, broke and swung on the fabric of its sail, like a scythe. Without warning, the heavy spar swept through the crew gathered to abandon ship leaving dead and injured scattered across the slanting deck of the wreck. Cries for help and moans of pain arose in its wake.

Braving the deadly waters in the largest boats that could safely cross the reefs, Captain Barad and First Officer Timms boarded the sinking vessel to direct operations.

The crew of the ill fated ship had done hero’s work in getting supplies, ship’s records and other valuables ready to load. They kept their heads in spite of the disaster, launching and loading their own boats and taking advantage of every boat that the Grandalor could muster.

The injured were loaded first and gotten to safety. Children, indentures, women and finally the crew’s men were loaded and dispatched to the waiting Grandalor.

Officers waiting to go last, whether men or women, according to Arrakan tradition, were penned on the deck and in their boats by the Grandalor’s Hailing Drum. “Wing Ray! Wing Ray!” it pounded across the distance. Boats in deep water frantically rowed for the ship or the shallows, whichever was closer. Even from the deck of the Princamorn, Barad could see the big upturned tips of the muscular wings of the enormous predator rhythmically breaking the surface as it cruised past between the Grandalor and the shallow reef. Fortunately the creature, like a manta ray combined with a whale shark but even larger, covered with an armored hide pebbled with hard bone, and a mouth full of fangs, cruised slowly past.

Bosun Modanet said in grim jest, as the Wing Ray vanished into the distance, “At least we don’t have to worry about Strong Skins or other little fish. They won’t be anywhere near that brute.”

The rescue continued until all of the living and as many of the dead as could be found were safe aboard the Grandalor.

Making one last sweep of the area for useful salvage, Captain Barad and Bosun Modanet found a woman floating in the sea, still alive but unconscious. Only landing on some flotsam had kept her from sinking to her death. Worse than drowning, she had suffered a severe head blow.

As she was being taken to the sickbay, Grandalor sailors called out, “Kurti! Captain! She is one of ours, works as a diver when she’s not down in stores! What happened to her?”

“Nae, t’at’s our Tanlin Miken Princamorn,” contradicted some of the survivors. “We t’ought ‘er gone. Tried t’ find ‘er after t’e yardarm broke. Nane saw ‘er in t’e woter.”

“Is her mother Donstar Morn Dannav?” asked a clear voice belonging to one of the Grandalor’s crew women who had been preparing to dive for salvage. Both crews stared.

“They’re as alike as two skelts! Who’d of thought that one from the Grandalor could look so like one from a completely different fleet!” they marveled.

TO BE CONTINUED

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 2 of 83 : World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 2 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

First draft written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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The Masters sent Mistress Daeron, the Master Roper to Kurin with a question. The short, motherly lady found Kurin sitting quietly on a rope tub by the foremast, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“What is the matter, Kurin?” she asked in concern. “The soundings are confirming your chart. This is amazing to us all. So, why the sorrow? These are not joy.” She traced a tear track with a gentle finger, gathered the child into her arms and rocked her.

“Mistress Daeron, I just miss them so . . . Dad . . . Cat. Why can’t they be here?”

Mistress Daeron nodded to herself. She remembered. Kurin found her father in his hammock. Died in his sleep. And him so young! The terrible things that her mother said as she slipped into madness. It must have been horrible for her.

Then blind Cat took care of her for most of a Gathering. And left her too. At the Weddings, Cat was left standing alone on the Marriage raft, last bride of all, with no apparent groom.

She called out and huge Orcas leaped from the sea all about the Marriage raft to announce his coming. Dark Iren, the Great Sea Dragon, reared up his gigantic head and everyone saw him. They saw five hundred feet of glittering black scales, fins and spines. A legend come to life. Then Cat, the blind woman that everyone knew, leaped into the sea in front of him and moments later emerged, a Great Sea Dragon herself, white to Iren’s black. None other than Blind Mecat. A legend in her own right.

And she’s had nobody since but that sarcastic Master Juris. No wonder she’s lonely.

Mistress Daeron gently stroked Kurin’s head. “Why one of Iren’s Orcas sang for your father while he was so young, you would have to ask Dark Iren in his deep halls. As for Mecat, can you imagine her visiting on the Longin now that she’s a five hundred foot Great Sea Dragon? A hundred feet of her would fall off each end of the ship!”

The ridiculous image got Kurin to giggle, and snapped her out of the funk. Mistress Daeron thought to herself, So that’s why this child is so driven to learn. Keeping new things before her mind keeps the pain of her past at bay.

It was time for the question that she had been sent to ask. “The Masters need to know how long it would take you to teach this skill to other members of the crew?”

Kurin pondered the question before answering. “I think that some competence could be taught in a few Wohans. How fast people learn will depend on how well the individuals can feel the waves and interpret what they’re feeling.”

“Only a few Wohans? That is very quick. Will they be able to make charts like the one that you have demonstrated?”

“No, but they will be able to find their way about safely and locate favorable currents. To draw charts as well, perhaps a Gathering or a bit more. For that they will need to learn some applied geometry, equal area functions, drafting and basic navigational knowledge.”

“Thank you, Kurin. When did you find the time to learn so much?” Mistress Daeron asked, caught off-guard, as even the people who knew her best often were, by Kurin’s array of skills.

“I try to keep busy,” said Kurin softly. “Learning keeps other things away.”

“I see — Why don’t you go and watch the wonder that you have wrought unfold before your eyes?” And keep your sorrows away, Mistress Daeron thought sympathetically.

The crabbers, in the meantime, were pulling up a bountiful harvest, as their cheerful calls and jeers going back and forth across the water demonstrated. Their ring-nets went down with bait and, after ten to twenty minutes came up swarmed with crabs and the occasional lobster. Each boat had five nets equipped with long lines attached to floats. The nets were laid in a circle or a line, depending on the preference of the man or woman in command. They used a boat-hook to snag the lines beneath the floats so that they could pull the trap nets up to empty them into holding nets hung over the transom.

This fishing on reefs, and the techniques by which it was done were classed as Ship’s Business. That meant that it was kept secret from other ships, except under carefully spelled out conditions. This right to secrecy gave the various ships of the Naral fleet commercial advantages over each other.

The Longin was famous for selling live shellfish, like crabs, lobsters, shrimp and assorted clams and oysters. She also sold fine lace work for clothing trims, along with the usual merchandise of a fishing culture. The Gula sold luxury fabrics that no other ship knew the making of. The Mordan sold the finest cordage and cable. Most ships had something that they did best, and protected it by Ship’s Business.

Silor was seething. Between hauling in crabs and lobsters, he glared across the deck at Kurin’s back, where she was pestering the officers at the range finder. They were smiling, smiling for Dragon’s sake! And showing her something. I don’t know how she pulled it off but she’s got me again! Sure, organizing lookouts is important. Strong Skins or Wing Rays could kill someone. Sure bringing the catch on board is important, but anybody can do this! I want to be out in a boat, having some fun, and she’s stopped it, somehow!

His grudge was six Gatherings old. They had been playmates back then. Somehow she had gotten to be Master Juris’s apprentice boat-builder instead of him. The fact that she had advanced to journeyman, needing only the formality of fleet Craft Council approval at the next Gathering, and the apprenticeship was now open, did not help.

After all of these Gatherings it still stung when he remembered Master Juris’s words when he had gone into the boat-shop to talk with the Master Boat-builder about getting the next opening.

“Silor, lad, you will never be an apprentice in my shop.” I didn’t mean to drop that shell scraper, but when Master Juris stooped to pick it up he acted like I had. He held it up and added, “Do you see that chipped edge? It will take Kurin hours to hone it until it’s perfect again. She will take the time and it will be done right. You are too clumsy, too heedless to be trusted with expensive tools of shell, bone or tooth. Now please leave my shop before any more harm is done.”

I was just a kid! What he said made me so mad that I kicked at a building frame. It was supposed to be fastened down so it couldn’t move! How could I know that it was loose! I think my heart stopped when that boat hit the deck and broke its back! I was horrified, that’s why I ran.

It was just an accident! They had no right to tell Alor to take the cost out of my Purser’s account. Kurin is behind all of it! She loosened that frame! It ruined my chances of ever getting any apprenticeship!

TO BE CONTINUED

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 1 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 1 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

First draft written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

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Chapter 1: The Voice of the Sea

The day was fair and the sun was high, glittering off the water of Sea. Big Wohan was near the horizon and swift little Dorac was nearly at the mast head. Carsis, the third moon, was not due to rise until well after night fall.

The helmsman turned the three hundred foot length of the Longin dead into the wind. The breeze, now acting as a brake, slowed the big ship to a stop. Her large lateen sails went slack and fluttered in the gentle wind as the big ship, resembling a cross between a Chinese junk and a Yankee Clipper, finally went dead in the water.

“Why is the Captain even listening to her?” Silor, the lead deck-hand demanded of nobody in particular, gesturing offhandedly at the young, white haired girl standing beside Captain Mord Halyn near the bow of the ship. He was further back, near the foremast, in a knot of people prominent in the ship’s community. The Masters of the Craft Council were there along with many of the officers who were off duty. There were many others who were simply curious as to what Kurin was going to do this time. The nearly unbelievable rumor was that she was going to sound the bottom without a fathom-line.

Master Juris, the chief boat-wright and head of the Longin’s Craft Council, seeing a chance to needle Silor again, chose to answer him. Sarcastically he asked, “Why? Is your memory as clumsy as yourself? Do your recall as far back as three Wohans? A whole hundred days? There was a Coriolis storm, remember? Quite a large one.”

Silor did, in fact, remember the storm. I was on deck through most of it. I took the Captain’s orders and directed my mast crews. We saved the mainsail, the Longin herself, and every life aboard, when the reefing points tore out in hundred mile per hour winds. It was me up in the rigging. Rain and freezing wind tried to hurl me to Dark Iren. I set the puling blocks and caught lines that the hurricane whipped out of the control of my men and women. We got the yard secured to the boom and rebound that flailing canvass. We were almost done, the last line fought into its block, when slippery footing on a wet line let a hard gust throw me twenty feet to the deck. I broke my left arm. Silor was still paying the cost of saving the ship in his aching left arm, only recently out of its sling. Yes, Silor remembered the storm.

“Everybody knows how to deal with a blow like that,” Master Juris went on, patronizingly lecturing Silor like as if he were a child. “Run before it, close hauled and quarter your way out to safety after you are on the back of its path so it won’t just run you down again. The trick is to know when to quarter your way out with neither sun, moons or stars to help. We came out of the storm with only one section of one sail blown out of shape beyond salvage. The damaged section was replaced in five hours, and we were back in trim. How many ships did we find in that storm’s track? All needing major repair?”

“Six,” muttered Silor sulkily thinking correctly, Master Juris will always find a way to criticize whatever I do. Saved the ship, Logged a hero, and Master Juris calls me clumsy! Didn’t see Juris in the rigging helping! Once, five years ago when I was a kid, one bad thing happened, and Master Juris has never let me, or anyone else, forget.

“Kurin called the timing sooner than anybody expected and the Captain believed her. She was right. She got us to safety. It’s only one of the many times that she’s been right. That’s why the Captain listens to her. Now, let’s watch and see what this is all about.” The other Craft Masters of the Longin had come up from their shops below-decks to watch Kurin’s demonstration. They nodded in agreement.

Master Cirde the head of the weaving shop said, “I wish that Kurin was my apprentice instead of yours, Juris. She learns quickly and works well, rarely showing anything until she is sure of it. She came to my shop to play and that’s how we found out that the secret of Longin Lace had not left the ship when Cat went back to the sea.”

“She actually pays attention to instruction, instead of letting her mind wander onto dry land,” said Master Clard, the drummer. There was some good-natured laughter at the expense of apprentices in general. “They’re about to start,” he added.

“Just time for a friendly wager,” said Master Juris, smiling predatorially at Silor. “You are sure that this stop is a waste of time. I have some confidence in my apprentice. Two steamed fish cakes from this evening’s dinner will be the stakes. Acceptable?” He held out his hand and Silor, cornered by his own dislike, shook on it. In the background, others could be heard making various bets as well.

The attention of the whole group was now fixed on the Captain, the sailor beside him with a sounding line, and on twelve-Gatherings-old Kurin, the center of this storm on a calm sea. She closed her gray eyes and appeared to be concentrating on something that nobody else could notice. The deck was rolling gently in the swells, that was all.

She nodded to herself, satisfied, and wrote quickly on a tallow-slate with a bone stylus, showing it to Captain Mord, who signed it.

“Make the sounding,” he ordered the sailor who was standing ready. The sailor nodded with a brisk, “Aye, Sir!” He heaved a coral stone attached to a light line overboard and let it sink. The line had knots at regular six foot intervals and the sailor counted them as the stone sank. To the surprise of everyone except the girl, who was nevertheless relieved, the weight found a bottom at only twenty one fathoms, a mere sixty six feet down.

“You were right, Kurin,” said Captain Mord loud enough for all to hear. “There is a shallow bottom here that we never knew of. This could mark a good crabbing reef, if it has any size.”

He took her tallow-slate and added another note to it. Then he showed it to the waiting Craft Masters, officers and crew-folk. There for all to see, in Kurin’s neat writing, was ‘Bottom about 20 fathoms’ with ‘Cpt. Mord Halyn Longin’ signed beneath it as witness. There was also a note in Captain Mord’s hand, ‘Bottom found at 21 fathoms, Cpt. M.H.L.’

As the tallow-slate was passed about the group. Theatrical groans and cries of glee went with it. The sailors and some of the Masters could be heard cheerfully settling bets. Master Juris gloated to a gloomy Silor, “That’s two steamed fishcakes that you owe me from your plate at dinner. Want to try for all three, when we actually map out the shallows?”

The Captain now held up a carefully made chart on paperfish parchment for the Masters and Officers to see. Kurin’s neat drawing showed carefully marked depth contours for the expected bottom.

“I will let Kurin explain to you, as she did to me, the means of making this chart without long and laborious soundings.”

“Kurin, you know the Masters of the Craft Council. Please explain your method and answer their questions.”

She had known these men and women for Gatherings and worked and learned in their shops as a way of playing in her free time, but she was nervous still. This time, for almost the first time, she was going to try to teach them, instead of learning from them — and all of them at once.

She nervously twisted her long white hair in her hand as she began, “Five Gatherings ago, when we were on our way to her last Gathering with us, Cat gave me a hint to how she was able to steer the Longin so well in spite of her blindness. She said, ‘The sea speaks to me and tells me where the currents and reefs are. It’s voice is the long waves under the waves that we see.’

Kurin went on with gathering confidence, “It took me all of the five Gatherings since to figure out what she meant and how to interpret the waves. Look at the little wind waves on the surface. The Longin is big enough that they don’t move her at all. Still, she rises and falls to a longer, deeper wave than those. The long deep waves are the ones that I read for this work.

“It wasn’t easy to sort them out without help. They get shorter and higher when they pass over a shallow bottom. They bend when they go around the end of a shallow area and make a pattern that I can show you as the bent waves cross the ones that go straight. Currents, both big permanent ones like the Naral and Cliftos Currents, and transient flows caused by the tides, push the waves around. You can learn to tell which way the current is going, and about how fast.”

“I grasp the basic idea,” said Master Juris, absently scratching his bald head, “but I’ve watched you work on that chart in the boat-shop for most of a Gathering. Wouldn’t soundings be faster and more accurate?”

“I chose this place because we always sail past wide of it, due to the sudden change in the direction of the Naral Current, caused by this very reef. The turn that the current makes can throw dead-reckoning between navigation sightings way off. Because of that, we’ve always avoided this area. This is the one place in all three of our home waters where there is nothing but wave information to go on. Each time that we went past at a distance, I was able to add a little more. I could chart it to this same accuracy in only two passes if we came up within a mile of the reef and sailed along it. At most, three to four hours.”

The Masters retired down the deck to confer for a bit, trying to decide how to handle this turn of events.

While they were conferring, Captain Mord announced, “The second part of this experiment is to go ahead and do soundings by tried and true methods, to verify the accuracy of Kurin’s chart.

“While we do that, we’ll put some crab nets down in the known part of the shallows and try our luck.” The crew began to launch boats for the soundings and bustle about, preparing nets and crab-rings for use.

In the background the large, tubular hailing drum could be heard pounding out directions to the boats doing the soundings. Its main use was long-distance ship to ship communication, in favorable conditions it could bridge distances of over a mile with its very directional pulses of sound. Two officers, now using Kurin’s chart and a wide based range-finder, were telling the drummer what was needed next and he was telling the boats where to plumb the depths.

While the soundings were being taken, the other small, four and six oared, boats were lowered to the water with that absence of splashing that signals both experience and skill. Women and men both clambered down a big meshed net secured to the rail for that purpose. The ring nets, lines and floats were being lowered on boat hooks to the waiting crews. They were accompanied by good-natured banter and a few jeers from folk on deck, envious of those chosen to go. Oars made little whirlpools in the water and drove the boats ahead of quickly vanishing wakes as the crews rowed out to try the reef for crabs and to set some shrimp traps.

As Silor was eagerly preparing to go over the side to a waiting boat, Captain Mord approached. “Silor, I know that your arm is out of its sling but take the word of another who’s had a broken arm. Don’t over do it at first. I want you to organize the lookouts for Strong Skins and Wing Rays. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous those fish can be. Stay aboard this time and man the small crane. Somebody has to bring the catch aboard. I’m the Captain, and I don’t get to go out anymore.” He leaned on the rail beside Silor and looked at the departing boats with a heavy sigh.

Silor gripped the net cords so tightly that his knuckles turned white. I want to go out! My arm’s getting better! How did she do this? “Yes, Sir. Set the lookouts. Man the crane. I’ll take care of it, Sir,” he grumped stiffly. Stung at the loss of a chance at something fun to do, he went to do as ordered.

TO BE CONTINUED

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 4 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 4 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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“Aye, she’s t’e very ane. ‘Ow’d ye know ‘er line an’ folk?”

“My mother, Evanstar Morn Dannav, was her mother’s identical twin. She raised me on stories of their escapades. Twenty-one Gatherings ago, she married onto the Grandalor. I am Tanlin’s cousin, though I’ve never met her before.”

While they were talking, the Princamorn rolled off the coral head and settled down into the crystal waters of the lagoon. She lay on her side about thirty five or forty feet down.

Soon, the divers began to sound and surface, making notes on waterproofed paperfish parchment. In a few hours they had conducted and documented a survey of the wreck for salvage assessment.

While he waited for the divers to finish their work, Barad retired to his cabin. Chena, his cabin-girl was seated on his lap, a two-leaved tallow-slate open before her on the chart table. Her brows were knit as she studied the problem before her. I wish that I could follow this Arrakan arithomatics the way Barad does. He makes it seem so easy. Their crazy writing is easier by far, and it’s a pain. She looked once again at the rows of interrelated figures that Barad was trying to get her to understand. I wish that he’d get his hand off my breast. I can’t concentrate! These Arrakan function things! I’ll never get them to work! A knock at the locked door caused Barad to flip her slate shut and toss it to his bed. He pushed her behind the bed hangings as well. Sliding open the door, he admitted his Purser, Mister Morgu, who was carrying a set of account books, and Master Selked who was bearing the diver’s still wet reports on the condition of the wreck.

Studying the dripping reports, Master Selked, the Grandalor’s chief boat-wright, famous for the quality of the tools that he made, told Barad, “The Princamorn is not that severely damaged, other than the hull breach. She can be easily salvaged. If we are prompt, most of the capital goods in her shops and much of her cargo and stores should be savable as well.

Mister Morgu, the Grandalor’s Purser rubbed his hands together in glee at the thought. “We hold the rights to the wreck, Captain. It is easily worth seventy five thousand Strong Skins. Even after the costs of salvage, we stand to make better than fifty thousand Skins in profit.”

Barad’s pale blue eyes speared Morgu like harpoons. He shook his unruly mop of blond hair, now going gray, and said mildly, “I did say that these folk are not to be looted. We have made easily thrice that amount by trading with them. We shall indeed assert our claim to the salvageable wreck. If the Arrakans recognize our claim, we will return the Princamorn to her survivors at the cost of salvage plus a reasonable sum for our lost ship-time.”

“But Sir,” Morgu started to protest, seeing a large amount of money vanishing from his grasp.

Quelling the protest with a raised hand, Barad looked past his blade of a nose and said coolly, “I expect to gain far more than I lose in this deal, Morgu. Fear not.

“Would you be so good as to go and get Captain P’osettin and Purser Rostow and bring them here to discuss the matter of their ship?”

Am I an errand boy? thought Morgu irritatedly as he said, “Yes, Sir. I’ll attend to it at once.” He slid the cabin door shut behind him and spoke to the ever-present cabin boy waiting in the passageway. “Benj, go get what’s her name, Poset — something and, Rostu is it? You know, the Princamorn’s ex-captain and Purser.”

Benj, irritated at Morgu’s deliberate mangling of the names of people that he had met and liked, said, “Captain P’osettin and Purser Rostow; yes, Sir. I’ll get them,” and ran in the direction of the mess hall, where the survivors were being put up for now. Shortly he returned, leading both Captain and Purser.

Morgu made a show of sliding open the door and escorting them into Brad’s cabin. Captain P’osettin was a tall, rangy woman with black hair, tied back in a complex knot and braid. Purser Rostow was small man, a little over five feet tall, gray of hair and elderly. That he had been crying was obvious.

Barad turned to them and gestured them to comfortable chairs. “Captain P’osettin, Purser Rostow, I regret intruding on your grief. Losing ship and home must be hard. I need help. I know your trade laws well enough but I need information about your salvage laws.”

“Ca’tain Barad,” said P’osettin in a voice roughened by Gatherings of shouting commands, “Rostow ‘as lost more t’an merely ‘ome an’ ship.”

Barad, remembering the death of his own wife, said quietly, “Dragons, please, not Norrin?”

Mutely Rostow nodded. Captain P’osettin, said, “She was foremast lookoot. Tried t’ warn us o’ t’e ‘ead but we couldnae turn in time. Went t’ Iren’s ‘alls when t’e mast went down. ‘er body wa’ nae recovered.”

“My condolences, said Barad sincerely. This was a feeling that he was all too familiar with. “Can you help us or do you need more time to yourself?”

Pulling himself together with a deeply drawn breath, Rostow replied, “‘Aving a task t’ do ‘ll ‘elp. W’at’s yer need?”

Barad turned to Captain P’osettin first. “Ma’am, I ask your permission to open your ship’s Logs and accounts.”

“As salver, ye need nae permission Ca’tain Barad,” she answered. “T’ey’re yers t’ do wit’ as ye see fit. T’e Logs’ll ‘ave t’ be given t’ t’e Arrakan Council for t’e archive,”

“Still, a friend asks,” Barad returned with a serious smile.

That brought a return smile from P’osettin and a ghost of one from Rostow. “We were fortunate t’ ‘ave ye close, Barad. Ye saved many o’ m’ crew from Dark Iren’s ‘alls beneat’ t’e sea.

“W’at ye need now’s a survey o’ t’e wreck, wit’ position. T’at must be filed wit’ t’e nearest Council ship t’ secure yer claim. T’at’ll be t’e Wavenruner. T’en, an’ only t’en, can work begin.

“M’ crew’ll be Scattered over t’e fleet at t’e next Gat’ering. Once t’e Princamorn’s afloat an’ independent ye can put a prize crew on ‘er. She’ll be sold an’ newcrewed at t’e next Gat’ering.”

“Is it legal,” Barad asked with an intense stare, “for me to sell her and recrew her before the next Gathering? And with that, can I appoint her Captain?”

It was Rostow who answered this one. “‘T would be legal t’ do all t’at ye say, t’ough ‘t ‘as never been dune before. T’e Ca’taincy wad be subject t’ Council approval, o’ course. All Ca’taincies are.

“W’ere wad ye find purchasers or crew on such short notice? T’e ‘ole project wad cost on t’e close order o’ twenty or t’irty t’ousand Skins.”

Instead of answering directly, Barad leaned back in his chair and looked up at the web-work of beams and stringers fabricated of glued Strong Skin that made up the support of the afterdeck overhead. He steepled his fingers and said thoughtfully, “Sometimes people do generous things with no thought of return. Last Fall, we were trading in these waters when we were hit by a Coriolis storm. Our damaged mainspar was replaced by folk who said it was but the cost of friendship.

“Consider that spar a down payment. We will do the salvage work in return for a note to cover the cost of salvage and repair. In addition, we will have two full ownership shares in your ship.”

It was P’osettin who with tears in her eyes asked, “After t’is disaster ye wad give us bock our ship? Wye?”

Barad looked at her with a calculating smile, and laid a hand on the Princamorn’s account books. “I have a confession to make. I already did look at your books. They show quality management. I expect to make a handsome, if slower, profit.”

Both P’osettin and Rostow nodded. This they could accept. P’osettin wrung Barad’s hand as they left the cabin and said in a voice thick with emotion as well as accent, “We must bear t’is news t’ t’e rest o’ t’e crew. T’e Articles ‘ave t’ be observed but i’ t’ey dinnae take yer offer, t’ey’re nae wort’y t’ be sailors on a ship o’ mine.”

After the visitors had gone, Chena emerged from the bed hangings, tallow-slate in one hand and a stylus in the other. Timidly, she said, “I got the function thing to work, I think. It must be wrong, though. The answer that I get is a nearly circular ellipse, with the primary focus stationary, the minor focus going about it in a circle, causing a moving point on the ellipse to describe a cycloidal path.”

Barad cocked an eye at her and smiled sardonically. “It sounds basically right. What’s the difficulty?”

Chena quailed, as if in fear of getting hit. “It’s huge! Many times larger than Sea itself! How could something be bigger than the world?”

Barad actually laughed in delight. He dragged Chena by the arm to the open porthole and pointed out at the sky. The largest of the three moons was visible about a hand-span above the horizon. “There is your answer! You have just computed the orbit of Wohan, for about a Wohan ahead. You will become a Calculator yet. Never doubt it.

“Your indenture will net me thrice the value of even a boat-shop apprentice. Your own share of that indenture will be over six times what I get. Look forward to the money and freedom in just a few Gatherings. You will have a safe start in a new fleet. If you do not repeat the mistakes that ruined your life in the Naral fleet you will be secure and respected for the rest of your life.”

Chena looked at Barad in fear, I wish that I could believe that. I’ve heard that your Cabin-girls disappear and are never seen again. A death sentence to be chosen. Well, if you’d not taken me, I’d be dead already. Cast off. No ship, unless one were to chose me. I guess that being taken by the Grandalor is better than drowning.

With the help of the survivors, the Grandalor found the Arrakan fleet Council ship, Wavenruner, easily. It was one of a few ships that were authorized to act for the fleet’s Council until the next Gathering. They took the report of the sinking, along with the precise location and the salvage survey of the wreck. They also issued the necessary salvage claims, and bought much of what had been salvaged already.

Less than a Wohan later a somewhat crippled but now functional Princamorn parted company with the Gandalor. All of her surviving crew went with her, along with Barad’s indentures. The only exception was the gravely injured Tanlin, who was still in a coma.

Captain Barad, descended a companion-ladder to a corridor that lead to the Purser’s scriptorium. A half dozen men and women talented with quill and ink were working industriously by the light of large ports and a few candle lanterns in the brightly lit room. If the fleet Council knew just how talented these folk have been for the last seven Gatherings, the Grandalor would likely have a new Captain and officers, he thought, gleeful at getting away with yet another shady enterprise.

He examined the neatly bound piles of trade scrip. Each one bore the name of a different ship, and had the expertly forged signature of that ship’s Purser. There were several hundred Strong Skins and perhaps four thousand Glue Blocks worth. His brow wrinkled in angry concentration and he looked at the works in progress. “Morgu,” he called softly, voice quietly authoritative.

The Purser got down from his own high stool and work table in the corner of the room, where he could oversee all that was being done. “Yes, Captain?”

“Where is the Longin scrip? I do not see any, nor any in progress. Alor’s signature is no harder to forge than any other.”

“True, Sir. But this is.” Morgu pointed to a number neatly written in Alor’s precise hand.

“So? Copy it. What problem does it present?”

Morgu braced himself to tell Captain Barad the bad news. It was never safe thing to do. “Sir, each scrip, even the quarter block ones, has a separate number. This started last Gathering. Alor keeps a register with all of the numbers. When a scrip is done being traded about and is presented to the Longin for redemption, it is stricken out in her register, with the redemption date marked, and it is destroyed.

“The practical result is that our Longin scrip will be easily detected — and traced — to us.

“We are suspected of the counterfeits already put out.”

“How can you know that? The counterfeits have been discussed in the Captain’s Council but nothing has come of it. I have seen to that,” said Barad, deeply disturbed.

“Sir, a general meeting of the fleet’s Pursers has been called for next Gathering. I was not invited, and when I tried to get invited, I was bluntly told that I was unwelcome and would be ejected if I came.

“It took a number of discreet inquiries, some of them through agents, to find out the secret. The purpose of the meeting is to discuss the counterfeit situation and deal with it at the scrip issuing level, as the Captains’ Council seems unable to do anything.

“If I were you, Sir, I would drop the counterfeiting and wait for at least one or two Gatherings before going back to it.”

Captain Barad scowled, I wish that I could use him for Strong Skin bait. If I do, I will never get a reliable answer from anyone. They will all be afraid to tell me the truth. Dependable advice is the most valuable thing I can get. “I hate to let it go, but though profitable, it is a small trade. I will bow to your expertise and end it, for now,” he said thoughtfully.

“It was a good idea when you brought it to me seven Gatherings ago, when they were about to vote you off the Darok. Your transfer to the Grandalor saved them the embarrassment of admitting how badly you had hoodwinked them. It raised you from a well educated deck-hand to Purser and gave me a good income.

“Do you know why I made you Purser?”

“I have been puzzled by that question.”

Barad smiled, “It is simple. Faced with ruin by the collapse of a small scheme, you thought big enough to forge ahead and come to me with an ambitious proposal.” He smiled at his pun and waited for an answering one from Morgu before going on. “Few people will look to attack when they are being struck by a large opponent. Your ability at forgery has been useful and it will be again someday in some other way.”

Briskly Barad added, “For now, send someone up to my cabin. There are four books there, on the table. Your people should make as many copies as they can. They are the next edition of the Muline’s Moons and Sun Navigational Ephemerides. I got them while we were rendezvoused with Muline. My cabin girl will point them out.”

Morgu shuddered slightly at the thought of the Captain’s cabin girl. I pity her, truly I do. Having to take care of his cabin, and other needs. She won’t last long, they never do. Aloud, he said, “Will you accompany me to my cabin, Captain? I’ve something I’d like to discuss privately.”

“Of course, Morgu, let’s go.”

The Purser’s cabin was small and completely orderly, like its occupant. There was a small table, a chair, a shelf for books and a shut-bed. A small port-hole, open but equipped with a tightly fitting shutter, let in light. Morgu opened the folding door of the shut-bed so that he would have a place to sit, and let the Captain have the chair.

After sitting, Captain Barad demanded, “What did you want to discuss, that needs such privacy?”

Morgu steepled his hands and gathered his thoughts. “I want to ask something that may be personal. I don’t want to snoop into your affairs, but the answer may assist me in helping you with your goals. The question is about the Longin. I know how they cheated you when you tried to take over their crabbing waters, but your dislike for that ship goes further back than that. If I understand the situation better, perhaps I can help you to devise a fitting revenge.”

It was Barad’s turn to gather thoughts. “Way back, over twenty Gatherings ago, a few Wohans after the fire cough epidemic, old Captain Morthan, took ill and died suddenly, I took the helm of the Grandalor. There was not time for a popular election from fleet qualified men, by the Articles because a Coriolis storm was nearly on us. I and a few supporters took the job because someone had to. People took my commands and we got through the storm in good order. After that, they were used to my rule, and my men made it easier and safer to keep on doing so. Very few had to be logged as lost in the storm.

“I forged documents of election for the Captain’s Council. I am not as practiced in that art as you, I admit. Some of the officer’s signatures were questioned by Captain Mord, (a curse on all Halyns!) and I near lost my command and life right there. It took some fancy footwork to keep what I had bought and it cost several more lives.

“To this day I don’t understand why he opposed me. I could easily forgive being outmaneuvered, like with the crabbing waters. That’s a game with a winner and a loser.” He threw up his hands and went on, “There was no reason in it! Neither he nor the Longin could profit by it in any way!”

Morgu listened in rapt attention. Several more lives? There’s more to this story than I’m getting. Aloud he said, “I see. You only barely beat them then, and the real grievance is that they near wasted all your work for no real end. That they have managed to come out even or ahead on every try for revenge since only twists the knife.

“The best that you have done since amount to small nibbles that they barely feel.” Morgu paused before going on, “You don’t want to hit them like a hungry Strong Skin. Big as Strong Skins are, the Longin catches those. You need to strike at them like a big Wing Ray leaping from the deeps onto a small boat! You must smash something that they can’t replace!”

Captain Barad looked at the savage expression on his Purser’s face fascinated by what he saw, “What do you hold against the Longin? Such anger is well past the loss of a few counterfeit notes.” He was well aware of the answer but wanted to hear Morgu’s version from his own lips. Due to the machinations needed to get him to come to the Grandalor, Barad never had this opportunity before.

“There are two things that I hold against that Dragon-haunted ship!” Morgu paused and took a few deep breaths and regained his composure. “The first is not unlike your own. I was just making a few of the Darok’s own scrip for my own use, and none really hurt by it. The Darok found out because Captain Mord Halyn brought it to their attention and then the Longin’s crew helped to trap me. There was nothing in it for them. They just prated of honesty.

“The other thing was even worse. I was near ready to marry a fine young lady from the Muline at the time. Not only did I not get Suze, she married onto the Longin! Now do you understand why I want to hurt them?”

Sympathetically, Barad laid a hand on Morgu’s shoulder. She was going to follow him to the Grandalor but I fixed that! It has paid off better than I could have guessed. “I see why you hate them so and now you know why I do, too. What shall we do about it? How shall we smash them? Captain Mord and Alor are both too well guarded and too prominent to reach safely. I had thought of that.”

“Captain, whose name do you hear everywhere that Longin sailors gather? They talk about the girl Kurin …”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 4 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 44

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Chapter 15: Old Crab

The crowd around Marad’s booth showed that he still had his flair for dealing with the public.

“Let’s go to Marad’s for some food!” said Kurin enthusiastically.

Most people, seeing that it took two people to support her, stayed back and left Kurin alone. She could hear the whispers, though.

“I heard that she lived through Ord poisoning.”

“Not what I heard. Someone told me that they faked ...” that one ended in a thud and a scuffle, with a “You take that back!”

“Weak as a new hatched bird, poor thing!”

And one that got her interest, “Get Roper, he’s got her trade chits!”

“Doctor Worran, meet Marad, one of the best cooks around. Marad, this is Doctor Worran, from the Dark Dragon. She saved my life. This good man is Seve, he’s from the Dark Dragon, too.”

Belying his words, busy helpers bustled about his small kitchen, serving the hungry crowd. “Now what can I get you fine people?”

“Do you have any crab or lobster left?” asked Kurin without much hope.

“No live ones, Kurin, but I have some steamed crab cakes, made from flake blocks. They're just about to come out. There’s sweet or tart dipping sauces to go with ‘em.”