Hand Over Fist

Chapter 7: Noranda

The Morning Star made good time, strong winds out of the east pushing the frigate smoothly over the western reaches of the Inner Sea.  Thusly propelled, it only took the Star five days to cross the intervening space from Umbia to the Straits of Dark Shadow.  With a brief pause to check Brax’s maps of the northern Alanic, the Star plunged through the Straits and out onto the turbulent ocean itself.

As part of the crew, Longspear, van Joss and Salina often found themselves scrambling up in the rigging, down in the hold maintaining the hull, or scrubbing the decks to keep them spotless clean.  And, though most of the navigation was done with something the Ursa called a solar lab, plotting their position by the position of the sun in the sky, Captain Vendix often took advantage of the humans’ strange innate sense of direction to assist in determining their course.

So busy were the three that they hardly noticed the full month go past as the Morning Star made its way across the northern Alanic, bound for the northeastern coast of Noranda.  And so van Joss was almost surprised when he took his post one morning to find himself looking at the fog-shrouded Norandan coasts looming before them.

“Mr. Dernix, bring us five degrees to port,” Vendix commanded, the broad and powerful Ursa captain striding past his helmsman behind the great wheel that controlled the Star’s rudder and hence her direction.

“Five degrees to port, aye,” Dernix the helmsman, a chocolate brown Ursan, replied and turned the wheel slightly to the left.

Having long gained his sea legs, van Joss barely noticed the subtle change in course as he climbed the ladder to the raised rear deck, also known as the wheel deck.  Vendix caught sight of the human as he mounted the last few steps to step onto the wheel deck proper.

“Ah, van Joss.  Good of you to join us this morning.  We have your Norandan coast off our starboard side.  We will be close enough to attempt a landing in a few hours,” the captain rumbled, bringing a telescope to his eye.  The device, constructed from a series of interlocking tubes of finely rolled metal and ground and polished crystalline lenses, allowed Vendix to take a close and detailed look at the distant shoreline.

“That is, if we can find a hospitable place to drop anchor,” Vendix muttered under his breath as he scanned the rocky cliffs.  He abruptly lowered the tube from his eye.

“Damn cliffs are almost as bad as the Cliffs of the Moon!”  He turned to van Joss.  “How familiar are you with the eastern coasts of your land, van Joss?  Enough to find us safe harbor and a place to restock our supplies?”

“Sorry, captain,” van Joss admitted as he glanced back to the fog-shrouded shore.  “I know little, if anything of the eastern coasts.  My people are mostly land-bound, near the western mountains.  The eastern parts of Noranda are held by Fisted Races hostile to humans.”

“Unfortunate,”  Vendix rumbled, raising the telescope once more to a big eye.  “It would have been very helpful ...”  His voice abruptly trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

“Captain?”  Van Joss asked with a frown at the pause, looking over at the grizzled Ursan sailor. 

“Do you see safe harbor?”

“No,”  Vendix replied after a pause spent staring through his telescope.  “But I think we’re about to have company.  I spot at least a dozen or more big fins coming this way!”

Van Joss felt his face tighten.

“Triangular or rectangular, captain?”  was his quick question in response.  The captain squinted as he focused on the rapidly approaching shapes.

“Rectangular,” Vendix answered.  “Why?  Does it make a difference?”

Van Joss allowed himself a small smile of relief as he strode to the nearest rail to look in the general direction of the approaching fins.  Unlike Brax, Vendix didn't have extensive experience with the Cetaceans or the Picei and their long-standing war for dominance over the seas.