He went to bed with it nagging at him, and the ship still trapped within the haven that had become a prison.
* * * *
“Put a boat over the side.”
The morning had dawned a duplicate of the previous mornings in the valley: calm, sunny, the water stirred by only the gentlest of breezes. Anxiety was now scribed plain on the faces of the crew, for, having completed even unnecessary repairs, they had begun to wonder why they continued to remain in the watery depression, and at the lack of explanation from their Captain and mates.
“Going fishing?” Hovering near the stern rail, Simna ibn Sind eyed his friend glumly.
“In a manner of speaking.” The herdsman turned back to Stanager. “What I intend will demand my full attention.”
“I’ll send Terious to row you. Unless you plan to go far.”
“I hope not. You are not coming?”
She gestured behind her. “The Grömsketter is my charge. A Captain does not leave her ship in the middle of the ocean unless it is at the invitation of another vessel to visit. But I will watch.”
He nodded. “Let us not waste time, then. When the sun rises to the midpoint of the sky, it will be too hot.”
“I know. What are you looking for, Etjole?”
“I am not sure. A part of an old wives’ tale.”
“That’s not very encouraging.”
He smiled hopefully. “The old wives of the Naumkib are not like any others.”
As soon as the boat had been safely lowered, Ehomba followed the first mate aboard. Settling himself in the bow, he instructed the complaisant Terious to row for the thickest, densest mat of seaweed he could find.