The tide had receded during the hours of darkness and it would be a race against time to bring the final ship into position and unload it—including the livestock—before the waters began to deepen once more. Only if it was unavoidable did anyone wish to wait the hours until the tide went out once more.
On board, J.B. and Doc helped to prepare the animals for unloading. They were released from their cages one at a time and led down a gangplank into the shallow waters. Once at the bottom of the incline, they were roped with the lengths thrown down from the top of the slope and were then guided up. Here they were put in the charge of Pilatans who were ready for them, penned in crates until they were all on the level.
It was a slow and painstaking process, with many of the frightened animals refusing to make their way up the slope, the Pilatans at the bottom of the incline forced to beat them to make them move from fear and pain. The resultant cries from the beasts did nothing to quell the fear among those still on board the boat.
J.B. and Doc were among the last to start the ascent. They both stood at the bottom of the scree, the water of the incoming tide lapping at their ankles as the seaman deputed to scupper the last boat set its course and clambered down and into the calm waters as the craft headed for the graveyard that the rocks had become. They helped the man onto the drier land of the slope and, as he began to climb, they watched the boat crash into the side of the cliff.
“That’s it, then.” Doc sighed. “No way back for any who may regret it, now.”
“No way back for us, either,” the Armorer added. “And unless we move it, we’ll risk being drowned in this damn tide.”
They began their ascent, some distance behind the others. Doc found the moss and slime hard going, his hands and feet scrabbling for holds, his lion’s-head swordstick tucked into his belt. Once or twice he lost his grip completely and felt himself begin to slip and fall backward, but always J.B. was there to grab him and help him up again.
By the time that both men had reached the summit, they were exhausted. Ryan and Dean were there to help them up over the edge.
“Thanks for sending a rope down for us,” J.B. panted.
Ryan grinned. “They’ve used them all on the animals. Guess they didn’t think you’d need them.”
“Great. I’ll do the same for them sometime,” J.B. gasped.
Climbing to their feet, both men could see that the train of Pilatans and their animals were ready to begin their trek. At the head of the convoy were Markos and Sineta, with Mildred, Krysty and Jak waiting for them. They were facing the beginnings of the grasslands and Sineta looked back to where the four men were standing. She said something to Markos, who turned and beckoned to the four companions.
“I guess they want us to take the head with them because we know the mainland,” Ryan said wryly.
“But, Dad, it’s different here from elsewhere and we—”
“I know,” Ryan said quietly. “But you know what, Dean? They’ve got to discover that for themselves.”
Chapter Thirteen
The caravan of Pilatu made its way across the terrain for two days. Progress was slow, slower than had originally been envisioned by Sineta as the wags had been ditched and many of the older Pilatans found it hard to keep pace on foot. There were horses in among the livestock, and the younger, fitter members of the tribe gave up their mounts to assist their elders. Sineta herself was one of the first to do this, followed by Markos. The companions, who had also been given mounts so that they could keep pace with the caravan leaders and also scout ahead, also gave up their seats, although Doc was incensed when Sineta insisted that he retain his mount, on account of his age.
The area presented the weary caravan with no great threat. Rolling green hills led away from the rock peninsula where they had landed, forming a bland green barrier between themselves and the great lands beyond, the inclines making it impossible to see what lay over the crests of the hills.