They could hear those freed siroccos and emancipated mistrals blustering and raging overhead, but they did not blow down into the olivine depression to roil the serene waters. There was no perceptible current; only a gentle lapping of wavelets against the tired sides of the ship.
Climbing down out of the rigging, Stanager confronted her tall, laconic passenger. “For someone who’s never been to sea, you seem to know much of its secrets.”
Ehomba smiled gently. “I have lived by the shore all my life. The Naumkib learn to swim before they can walk. And there are many in the village who have been farther out on the waters than I. A wise man is a sponge who soaks up the experiences of others.”
With an acknowledging grunt, she studied the walls of water that formed the basin. “I would’ve preferred the lee of an island.”
“This was the only refuge I saw,” he replied apologetically.
“I’m not complaining, mind.” As the Grömsketter rocked contentedly in the mild swells, she turned and shouted commands. “Terious! Tell Uppin the carpenter to pick a crew to help him and have him get started on the necessary repairs. Once they’ve begun, see to the sails and rigging. Choose two men to settle the mess belowdecks!”
“Ayesh, Captain!” Turning, the first mate commenced to issue orders of his own.
Scrutinizing the enclosing green slopes, Stanager remained uneasy. “This valley we’ve slipped into; will it stay stable? If these walls decide to collapse in upon us, we’ll become instant chum.”
“When the old people of my village who have the most experience with the sea mention such a place, they speak of it as something that lingers long. I think we will be all right here. How long will it take your people to make the ship right again?”