“Thar’t! Can ya see it, Fishbum? It be’s the Outer Rings! Sure ’n it can’t be none else!” Fishbum, the young Ship’s Lookout standing beside Red Whale, felt a brief tremble of fear ripple through his body. The dim outline of an island was, indeed, unmistakable against the remains of the starry night sky. Cap’t Red Whale’s happy excitement was understandable. It was what Red Whale did not see that sent shivers down Fishbum’s spine. Dozens of small boats propelled by hundreds of paddles rising and falling in a steady, urgent rhythm, were also faintly visible to Fishbum’s bleary, peering gaze. He sensed that the boats, soundlessly bearing down on Daring Dream, were not making a friendly visit. The high speed and silence of the approach, advancing in the dim light of early dawn, indicated a desire for surprise.
Although Fishbum feared an approaching attack, Captain “Red Whale” Gumberpott still gazed excitedly toward the horizon, seemingly oblivious to the boats. His tightly drawn face, however, belied worry that tinged his excitement. As he lumbered toward the prow, the flowing rolls of flab overhanging his belt rose and fell in rhythm with his heavy breathing. Between gasps of air, he spoke in a broken chain of frenzied commands:
“Crinoo! The Outer Rings...Zarr! They’re not real they said, but Lord Farseeker knew...Sharat! V’last that storming wild Ogress! I thought we’d escaped it. Unless we make land, we’ll be goners...not much fresh water left...V’last!”
Reaching the prow, Red Whale suddenly lunged toward the railing. Fishbum, fearing that Red Whale meant to dive over the side, grabbed at the captain’s coat. Pulling with all his strength, Fishbum slowed, but could not stop Red Whale’s advance. The captain’s massive belly squashed across the railing. Stopping with his body pitched halfway over the railing, Red Whale’s ranting subsided into an occasional muttered oath.
Abnormally tall and massive in girth, the giant Wolf had deep, bloodshot eyes. His strong bristly beard, dried to a scrub-brush finish, told of long weathering at sea. Leaning now, as far out over the railing as he could without falling over, he seemed to be straining, peering, frantic to see the island more clearly. “Mor’light! Mor’light! V’last the sun! Mor! Mor’light! I must see the Outer Rings! Sure ’n the Outer Rings be within my grasp!”
Red Whale seemingly took no note of the horde of boats drawing closer. Fishbum nervously realized that his nearly blind captain perhaps did not yet see them in the still dim light. Long years spent peering at faded charts by candlelight had robbed Red Whale of much his sight. He could see well enough to make out the dark bulky profile of a landmass against the brilliant sky, but could not yet make out the small dark boats fast approaching across a still dark sea.
“Fishbum, why are you sittin’ and waitin’ like a boot full o’ water? That’s Wrackshee boats comin’ hard at us or I’ll be fooled! Now, look lively, you! Push me over the side, then you follow! Quick like now! Be about it!” Red Whale puffed as the lumbered up over the rail, Fishbum pushing him at the rear. He paused just before plunging into the sea below. “Well, Mate, the only hope is for us to go over the side. Savin’ ourselves is the hope the others might have. If them swarming Wrackshees aim to take us, there be no hope for any of us if we stay here.”
Into the Voi-Nil
When Norayn “Red Whale” Gumberpott set sail six months before in search of the Outer Rings, he bore a royal commission from the Lord Lynx Farseeker. A Voyager Wolf at the Court of the Lord Lynx, Red Whale knew the legends of the Outer Rings—said to be numberless islands somewhere along the unexplored fringes of the Great Sea. Most scoffed at stories about the islands and the fabulous riches they were said to contain. Lord Farseeker, however, was not a scoffer.
The Lord Lynx was a listener, a quester, a hoper—a lover of what might be. His eye forever looked toward the far horizon. He surrounded himself with chart makers, ship captains, astronomers, and storytellers; anyone who had something new to say about the Voi-Nil—the vast blank spaces on his charts. “Far better to listen to a storyteller with a gleam in his eye, even though he be a liar, than to a fool who has never had an idea!” he would say. There was nothing to rival the Lord Farseeker’s capacity to listen to the stories of explorers and adventurers who had ventured past the edge of the known lands.