She deliberated. “The damage is not crippling, but if left unattended to, it would surely have become so. We’ve a full day’s work ahead of us, more likely two.”
“Good!” Simna, for one, was not disappointed. Leaning on the rail, he surveyed their implausible surroundings. “I could do with a couple days of knowing where my legs are going to be at all times. Not to mention my belly.” He glanced hopefully at the herdsman. “If this phenomenon is as steadfast as you say, bruther, maybe we could lower one of the small boats and do some fishing.”
“I do not see why you could not,” Ehomba replied encouragingly.
“Why not fish from the Grömsketter ?” Stanager frowned at him.
“My tackle won’t reach the water.”
“Tackle?” Her puzzlement deepened in tandem with her frown. “I didn’t notice any fishing gear among your baggage.”
He winked at her. “You were looking at the wrong baggage.” Turning, he yelled down in the direction of the mainmast, where a large black, furry mass lay half asleep, purring sonorously. “Hoy, kitty! Feel like some fresh fish?”
The litah yawned majestically. “I told you not to call me that. But I always feel like fresh fish.”
“Then I’ll be right down.” Passing the Captain, the swordsman arched his eyebrows at her. “That’s my tackle.”
The sounds of hammering and sawing rose from the main deck where Uppin the carpenter and his commandeered assistants were already hard at work making preparations to carry out the necessary repairs to the ship. Something rose up behind Ehomba and the Captain, shading them from the intermittent sun.