Miro and Amber both avoided falling to sea-sickness, earning them the grudging respect of the men they dined with every night in the officer's mess. The meals were basic: boiled beef and potatoes, occasionally varied with pickled cabbage and bacon. Miro reminded himself the fare of the common sailors would be simpler still. He and Amber would be having the best the ship's cook served.
At these dinner sessions Miro had met and come to know Second-mate Beck, Quartermaster Ulrich, and Helmsman Werner, all from the free cities. Conversation was forced, with little common ground between them. Captain Meredith often arrived late to dinner, smelling of spirits. Miro wasn't going to say anything to the captain on his own ship, but he hoped the man's drinking wouldn't affect his judgement.
The tiny cabins and fold-out beds weren't made for two to sleep side-by-side, and Miro and Amber slept in separate cabins across the passageway, with the other officers' cabins on either side. However Miro and his wife often spent time together in his cabin or hers, talking late into the night, making plans for the future, plans that always included their son as if he was well and they were on a simple voyage from which they would return home soon.
Now Miro was alone on the deck, watching the sun sink into the horizon, melting into the blue water like a crucible being poured. He paced back and forth, feeling pent, thinking about his quest, and about love.
Since Tomas's poisoning physical love had dried up between the newlywed couple. Miro didn't pressure his wife; he was anxious to be there for Amber in whatever capacity she most wanted him.
Miro sighed, concerned for Amber, feeling happy to have her close but worried for the danger of the journey and her fear for Tomas, growing more distant with every moment.
As if thinking about her brought her close, Miro sensed movement beside him.
"You've been here a while. What are you thinking?" Amber said.
"I was just thinking about the officers," Miro lied.
"Captain Meredith seems nice," Amber said.
Miro nodded. "A little soft though. These sailors are tough men. I just hope he can keep control of them on such a long voyage."
"They're being paid well," Amber said. "Sailors like to get paid."
"I'm sure you're not wrong there," Miro said, smiling. "Out of interest, though, do you know anything about sailing?" He felt helpless trusting their fates in the hands of these men.
"A little," Amber said, and Miro's eyebrows went up. "My father had a fascination with ships. He had a big book he used to show me, and tell me about what kind of ship it was we were looking at. We sailed little boats on the river once or twice, but it was actually big ships he was interested in. It's funny; we never once went to the free cities to look at the real thing."
Being on a ship reminded Miro of the time he'd sailed aboard the Infinity, and pitched in just like one of the Buchalanti sailors. That had been a younger Miro, leaving Altura for the first time, on a voyage to Seranthia.
This journey was altogether different. The last time Miro had thought these dark thoughts he'd thought himself alone on this voyage.
Now they were two people who might never see their home again.
~
THE FOLLOWING Lordsday Miro saw Captain Meredith on the forecastle, giving some sailors on the deck below him words of encouragement or perhaps reproach. Miro's eyebrows went up when he saw Meredith turn his back and one of the sailors make a rude gesture to the captain's back.
Descending from the poop deck to the quarter deck, Miro surprised some junior officers smoking pipes in a sheltered part of the ship. They stopped speaking when Miro approached and gave him dark glares.
Miro hoped Captain Meredith and First-mate Carver could keep their men together long enough to see the voyage through.
He wondered if there was anything he could do. Miro wasn't sure how he could help, besides wishing the ship would go faster.
Reaching the companionway Miro decided to head back to his cabin. Fighting the rocking of the ship, he pushed open the door to his cabin and closed it behind him.
He sat on the fold-out bed that doubled as a seat and took a heavy book from out of the wooden trunk.
Miro once again opened Toro Marossa's Explorations.
Contrary to what you may believe, I had never set out like this before, pointing myself in a direction and hoping to come across land. I've always travelled where I could see something on the horizon, and if this tacking back and forth across the unbroken ocean unnerved even me, imagine the feelings of the superstitious sailors.
I believe I could easily find the Ochre Islands again. There is a strange haze that hovers over them and is visible from leagues away, and between my extensive experience mapping uncharted lands and the captain's own skill with charting, the directions in these pages can be relied on.