For an old coast crawler like me, it’s beyond comprehension.” “Should have been dead ahead,” he muttered, but then the smile broke through again. Hal rearranged his features, trying to hide his pleasure. Thorn was an expert sailor, but the intricacies of navigation had always proved too much for him. “Wasn’t that where you were aiming?” It was a near-perfect landfall-an impressive achievement for a neophyte skirl. Thorn saw the look of pleasure that came over Hal’s face. He shaded his eyes, then turned and called back down the length of the ship. In the bow, Stig had climbed onto the bulwark alongside Stefan, but on the other side of the bow post. He either grew into the responsibility or it crushed him. But then, command of a ship had that effect on a person. The fact that the young skirl could admit to his concerns was a sign of his growing maturity and confidence in his own ability. “Must admit, I had a few sleepless moments.” Then he couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer.
“Thanks,” he said, trying to look nonchalant. He’d spent many years at sea but he knew all too well what must have been going through Hal’s mind. His rolling gait easily matched the movement of the ship and he smiled at his young friend. Thorn came aft from his favored spot by the keel box. He had done so himself, on ships commanded by other people. He knew of Skandian seafarers who had sailed for weeks with no sight of land. Four days, after all, was a relatively short ocean trip. He shook his head, realizing how groundless his fears had been. When you sailed out of sight of land, he thought, there was always the worry that you might never sail back into sight of it. What if he had misread his sun compass? What if Stig had let the ship stray off course while Hal was sleeping? What if Hal himself had made some simple, fundamental error that had led them off on the wrong path? After days without any reference points or landmarks, with nothing but the waves to see, niggling fears had begun to gnaw at his confidence. They had been out of sight of land for four days, cutting diagonally across from the eastern coast of the Stormwhite Sea to head for the southern coastline. There was a buzz of interest from the crew as they surged forward to get a sight of the coast-at this stage, no more than a distant, hazy line on the horizon. It was Stefan, calling from the lookout position in the bow of the Heron. Normal0falsefalsefalseMicrosoftInternetExplorer4st1\:*
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