He ate only a little of the food and soon grew tired again. He lay back on the deck, thankful for the canvas that kept the afternoon sunlight off his burned and peeling skin. His head was sore and hot. It also itched, but even touching his scalp was painful. He laid his head down gingerly, using his arms as pillows, and dozed.
He heard the town before he saw it. Then he could smell cooking fires, and he decided to sit up. Olton and Azel had lowered the sail and were now working long oars to guide the boat into harbor. Niils steered the ship. He looked like a younger version of his father, standing at the steering oar. Quinn turned and saw the village they were approaching. The sun was in his eyes, but he could see the busy quay and the other fishing boats. Quinn was still naked. He had no clothes, and no coin to buy new ones.
“Olton,” he said tentatively. “I don’t suppose you have some clothes for me to put on?”
“The boys have mended your clothes,” the fisherman said. “It’s not pretty, but it’ll do.”
He tossed the shirt and pants to Quinn. His boots had filled with water when he was thrown overboard, and Quinn had kicked them off rather than be weighed down with them. His purse too, had been discarded, along with his sword belt. All he had was his tattered pants and shirt. The reality of his dire predicament hit him hard. He needed to do more than catch up with Mansel; he had to somehow get to Zollin first and warn him. But he was days behind the young warrior, with no money and no resources. He was in trouble and he knew it.
The ship glided into a spot along the quay where they could quickly and easily unload their catch. The boys loaded the fish into wooden boxes, which they carried to a stall in the market to lay out their catch. Most of the fish was taken to a smokehouse where they were cleaned and hung, so that they could smoke overnight; the rest was sold to the villagers who flocked to the stall to get the best of the early catch. While the boys were busy in the market, Olton scrubbed the small deck where the fish had lain and then made preparations to set sail again. He left Quinn on the boat while he checked on his sons and soon was back, this time with a bottle of wine and more food.
He handed a small sack to Quinn that was filled with fresh baked bread and smoked fish. There was also a bit of cheese. Quinn’s appetite returned, but he decided to see if he could help Olton with the boat, since the man was graciously taking him farther north.
“You’ve been very generous,” Quinn said. “How can I help?”
“Have you ever manned an oar?” Olton asked.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you. We only need to row out of the harbor, then we can raise the sail and head north. We should make it north of the Walheta mountains by sunrise.”
“What about your sons?” Quinn asked.
“They’ll take care of themselves.”
“I feel like I’m asking too much of you.”
“Nonsense, I’ll fish on the way south. I haven’t been in the northern waters for some time. I’ll probably have a good catch and get you a little closer to home. Kill two birds with one stone so to speak.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said.
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait till you’ve worked the oars and helped with the fishing nets. You may decide I’m not that kind.”
Quinn smiled. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. They cast off from the harbor and Quinn took his place at one of the long, heavy oars. It took a little time for Quinn to find his rhythm. He braced his feet and used his entire body to pull the oar through the water. At first it felt good to stretch and use his muscles again, but soon those muscles were burning with fatigue. He was still exhausted after spending three days floating in the open water of the Great Sea. Quinn didn’t complain though, and soon they were far enough from the harbor that Olton ordered the oars struck and set the sail. Quinn sat near the rear of the ship and ate his supper. The food was good and there was a breeze. For the first time in his life Quinn thought that perhaps being on a ship wasn’t a bad thing. He could see the stars above him, so vast in number and so far away. The moon gave them enough light to see the dark shore to their left as they sailed north.
Quinn was soon sleeping again. He rested well for several hours until Olton woke him.
“It’s time to cast the nets,” he said, as Quinn stood up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “You take the rudder. Just hold it steady. Keep us pointed at that bright star near the horizon. See it?”
“The reddish one?” Quinn asked.
“Yes, that’s it. You shouldn’t have any problems. It’s a calm night.”
The calm night didn’t last long. To Quinn, it seemed like one moment all was well, but in the next moment the sky poured fury down on them. It wasn’t unusual for violent storms to strike near the Walheta Mountains. Cold air poured down off the mountains and mixed with the warm, humid air above the Great Sea and caused vicious storms that no one could predict. There was no light around them, only the stars that were mere pin pricks in the sky. Quinn felt a cool breeze waft across his skin, and he thought it was refreshing. Then suddenly the small fishing boat dipped into the trough of a wave; it was as if the water had disappeared beneath the boat. Olton was leaning over the bow of the ship where his net had snagged. The bow was driven into the bottom of the next wave like an arrow into a target.
Water flooded across the small boat, but the little craft was now rising high into the air. Quinn held the rudder fast, fear locking him in place so that he was like a statue. The ship topped the crest of the wave and shot down the other side, slamming her nose once again into the water.
“Storm!” Olton cried from the bow of the ship. He struggling to get back to where Quinn was holding the rudder but the waves knocked him off his feet.
“What do I do?” Quinn shouted.
“We’ve got to get the sail down!”
Quinn couldn’t see the sail, but he could hear it. It was groaning and straining in the wind, which was now whipping all around him. He was afraid to let go of the rudder and stood paralyzed. He hated sailing because it always made him seasick. When Mansel had thrown him overboard he had been afraid he would drown, but the fear of this storm was much worse than anything he had ever felt before. He had always enjoyed storms before. He didn’t like being caught out in one and didn’t like to be kept from working, but he had enjoyed watching a good storm while sitting in his house or in an inn where he was warm and safe. He had always thought the lightning was beautiful as it arced through the sky, and the sense of security that came from having shelter made him feel cozy. But now, caught in a violent storm on the open sea, he knew a terror that was even greater than facing the dragon in Brighton’s Gate.
Being exposed to a storm was frightening, but being tossed around on the sea during a storm gave Quinn a new sense of helplessness that he had never known before. The boat creaked and popped as if the strain was going to break it apart. The rudder was starting to buck and fight as if it were alive.
Olton had gotten to his feet and was trying to untie the rope that held their sail in place. Quinn could only see his shadowy outline and only then when they were on top of a wave. When they fell into the trough of the wave the world was completely black. Cold water sprayed up and Quinn was quickly drenched. The ship had small scuppers that allowed most of the water to flow back into the sea, but some of it found a place on the small vessel. Quinn noticed that there was water sloshing over his feet.