into thin flat piles that could easily be stacked below, and the ship’s real name replaced her alias Crimson Heifer. The empty barrels stayed lashed to the stern, though. I still didn’t know what purpose they served.
If Captain Clift was the worse for wear after the previous night, it didn’t show. He was on deck before me, calmly issuing orders for Mr. Seaton to then repeat very loudly. Jane stayed below; I don’t know if it was from boredom, sleepiness, or our confrontation. I also saw no sign of Duncan Tew, but if he worked the night watch, he was probably sleeping as well.
The Red Cow circled Blefuscola until we reached the north side. The coastline seemed to be all high rock cliffs, with no apparent entrance. I wondered where this supposedly safe harbor was, until suddenly Seaton called for more canvas and the Cow began to pick up speed directly toward those same high cliffs.
I stood at the bow, trying to stay out of the way and trusting that Clift, Seaton, and the rest of the crew knew what the hell they were doing. We shot toward the island; waves crashed into the base of the rocks, sending up great white plumes. I began to get a little nervous.
Seaton, standing at the ship’s wheel, continued bellowing Clift’s orders to the crew. They were all in nautical-ese, and none of them seemed to be Slow down. I gripped the nearest rail and tried to look nonchalant. They had to know what they were doing, didn’t they?
Then, at the last minute, the ship’s undulation separated one rock wall from the other. There was an opening, but you could see it only from an angle because the ends of the two rock walls overlapped. I also saw the reason for the straight approach: rocks just under the surface on either side of the ship’s course.
“A bit flabbergasting at first, isn’t it?” Mr. Greaves said beside me.
“It does make you question the navigator’s sanity,” I admitted.
He gestured at the rocks on either side of us. “Steeple rocks. If the tide’s right, they’re hidden just below the waterline, and they’ll gut a ship the way Avencrole does a pig. Only safe course through them is straight in.”
“How many ships did it take to figure that out?”
He laughed. “I’m sure the bones of quite a few rest at the bases of those things, impaled like a knight on a lance. But I’ve not known any sailor who didn’t know about them, so the word’s well and truly out by now.”
“But you don’t tell the passengers.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Ah, Mr. LaCrosse, a seaman’s life is filled with so few moments of delight, it’d be a shame to deprive them of the look on your face.”
I glanced around in time to catch several men quickly look away. How could I not laugh, too? “Glad to help the morale.”
Greaves saluted me. “You’re a good sport, Mr. LaCrosse.”
The ship sailed gracefully through the opening. For a moment, the huge cliffs blocked any view of the sea behind us or the harbor ahead. Birds nested in crevices, and in places strange nautical images and hieroglyphs were carved into the rock. This passage had been used for quite some time, maybe hundreds of years. I’d have to ask how it was established as a neutral port, since a neutral anything was, in my experience, a rarity.
Then we reached the end of the inner wall, turned to port, and entered the harbor itself.
It was quite a sight. The harbor was an almost perfect circle, and the dark blue water hinted at extreme depth. Directly across from the entrance, a small city stood along the beach, with that tangled, warrenlike appearance of places that grew haphazardly over time. And except for the beach where this city stood, there were only rock walls going straight down into the water.
And suddenly we knew where all the other ships were.
The harbor was a jungle of masts, spars, and shrouds. The packed docks of Watchorn were nothing compared to this. It looked like every type of vessel in the whole Southern Ocean had decided to hide here.
But why?
Once inside the harbor, the wind died to a whisper, and the water was so still that the cliff walls reflected as clearly as they would in a mirror. Clift ordered, “Ease your helm, Mr. Seaton.”
“Aye, sir,” came the quartermaster’s reply from the wheel.
Our momentum carried us forward. We slowed so that by the time we got close enough to anchor near the back of this ad hoc fleet, we were barely moving.
“Bloody golden starfish,” Clift muttered as he surveyed the ships. All had their sails furled away, and many had gangways crossing from one vessel to another, forming a complex web. “Looks like they’ve settled in for good.”
“It’ll take us a day just to get to shore from here,” Seaton grumbled.
“What the hell?” Jane said from behind me. I turned, and was surprised to see she was dressed more demurely than before; a vest covered her, ahem, points of interest, and she’d procured knee-high boots from somewhere.
If Clift noticed, he gave no sign. Instead he said, “This must be why we haven’t seen any ships in the cargo lanes.”
“No kidding,” Jane agreed. “There’s no weather in the sky, and it’s the wrong time of year for the big storms, anyway. What could have driven them here?”
“We’ll never know till we ask,” Clift said. “Mr. Seaton, ready the wherry. We’re going ashore.”
“The wherry, sir? Will you not be taking a few men for security?”
“This is a friendly port, and with our two guests along, I’m sure I’ll be safe.”
“I’ll pack you a picnic,” Seaton muttered, then began shouting orders.
“I take it this is unusual,” I said to Jane when we were alone.
“Yeah, I didn’t even know the ship had a wherry. I thought all the boats were launches.”
“I meant about this,” I said, and gestured at the harbor.
“Oh. Yeah, this is absolutely nuts,” she agreed. “Look at all the flags, too. This isn’t just one kingdom’s fleet; this is everyone. It’s a total shutdown of trade. Nobody’s getting anything.”
Clift, Jane, and I boarded the wherry, rowed by two young sailors. Navigating among the big ships was a bit like canoeing down a canyon, with only a narrow band of sky visible above us. Although the vessels were anchored, there was still plenty of slow movement, and we had to push ourselves away from shifting hulls more than once. It was a sunny day, but the shadows between ships felt isolated and spooky.
As we passed one ship, Clift said, “I know this ship’s captain.” He stood, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called, “Ahoy, sloop Raccoon! Is Captain Freisner aboard?”
A face appeared over the rail. “And who might you be?”
“Clift, of the Red Cow. ”
“Well, Clift of the Red Cow, that coward Freisner went ashore three days ago and we haven’t seen him since! If you run across him, tell him his crew no longer requires his presence!” The face withdrew without waiting for a reply.
Clift sat back down. Jane said, “Do you suppose all these vessels are captainless?”
“I don’t know what the fuck they are,” Clift snapped. “Any insights from the great investigators?”
Jane said, “Dylan, that’s not fair-”
“What are ships like this afraid of?” I asked.
Clift turned slowly and looked at me, but his anger had already dissipated. “Only war, weather, or pirates could stop a merchant ship from delivering her cargo. There’s no war big enough to account for all this, the weather’s perfect, and we haven’t seen any pirates, either.”
“But look at that,” Jane said, and pointed. “A Rafelian navy frigate.”
“So it’s not just commercial ships,” I said.
“Apparently not.”
It took a long time, but eventually we reached the end of a dock where we could tie up alongside the launches from several other vessels. The town beyond the docks swarmed with people, but they weren’t moving much; they stood in groups talking, or listening to speakers pontificating from storefronts, or just numbly standing around.
Clift turned to our pair of rowers. “Men, stay with the wherry. If we’re not back by nightfall, return to the ship and tell Mr. Seaton he’s in charge, and that my advice is to get the hell out of here.”
“Aye, sir,” they said.
He kept looking at them. “I’m serious, lads. I’m trusting you. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but I see plenty of vessels who seem content to molder here. The Cow is not one of them. Am I clear?”
