How Firm a Foundation by David Weber Read Free Book Online

compass, picturing charts again in his mind, and worried.
    *   *   *
    “You wanted me, Sir?” Rhobair Lathyk said respectfully. He was still chewing on a piece of biscuit, Yairley noted.
    “I apologizefor interrupting your breakfast, Master Lathyk,” the captain said. “Unfortunately, according to Master Aplyn-Ahrmahk we’re no more than five miles clear—at best—of the Garfish Bank.”
    “I see, Sir.” Lathyk swallowed the biscuit, then bent to examine the compass exactly as Yairley had.
    “Assuming Master Aplyn-Ahrmahk’s eye is as accurate as usual,” Yairley continued, “we’re a good forty miles northof my estimated position and Sand Shoal lies about forty miles off the starboard bow. Which means Scrabble Sound lies broad on the starboard beam.”
    “Aye, Sir.” Lathyk nodded soberly. The good news was that Scrabble Sound ran almost a hundred and twenty miles south to north, which gave them that much sea room before they ran into the eastern face of Ahna’s Point or into Scrabble Shoal, itself.The bad news was that from their current position they couldn’t possibly clear Sand Shoal at the western edge of Scrabble Pass, the mouth of the sound … and even if they had, it would only have been to allow the wind to drive them into Silkiah Bay instead of Scrabble Sound.
    “Go about, Sir?” he asked. “On the starboard tack we might just be able to hold a course across the sound for Fishhook Strait.”

    Fishhook Strait, roughly a hundred miles north of their current position, was the passage between Scrabble Sound and the northern reaches of the Gulf of Mathyas.
    “I’m thinking the same thing,” Yairley confirmed, “but not until we’re past the southern end of the bank. And even then”—he met Lathyk’s eyes levelly—“with this wind, the odds are we’ll have to anchor, instead.”
    “Aye, Sir.” Lathyk nodded.“I’ll see to the anchors now, should I?”
    “I think that would be an excellent idea, Master Lathyk,” Yairley replied with a wintry smile.
    *   *   *
    “I don’t like this one bit, Zhaksyn,” Hektor Aplyn-Ahrmahk admitted quietly several hours later. Or as quietly as he could and still make himself heard at the main topmast crosstrees, at any rate. He was peering ahead through his spyglass as he spoke,and the line of angry white water reaching out from the barely visible gray mass of the mainland stretched squarely across Destiny ’s bowsprit. He had to hold on to his perch rather more firmly than usual. Although the wind had eased still further, Scrabble Sound was a shallow, treacherous body of water. Its wave action could be severe—especially with a southeasterly blowing straight into it—andthe masts’ motion was enough to make even Aplyn-Ahrmahk dizzy.
    “Not much about it to like, if you’ll pardon my saying so, Sir,” the lookout perched at the crosstrees with him replied.
    “No. No, there isn’t.” Aplyn-Ahrmahk lowered the glass with a sigh, then slung it over his shoulder once more. He started to reach for the back stay again, then stopped himself and looked at the lookout. “Bestnot, I suppose.”
    “Better safe nor sorry, Sir,” Zhaksyn agreed with a grin. “Specially seeing as how the First Lieutenant’s on deck.”
    “Exactly what I was thinking myself.” Aplyn-Ahrmahk patted the seaman on the shoulder and started down the more sedate path of the shrouds.
    “Well, Master Aplyn-Ahrmahk?” Captain Yairley asked calmly when he reached the quarterdeck. The captain’s valet stood athis side, improbably neatly groomed even under these circumstances, and Yairley held a huge mug of tea between his hands. The steam from the hot liquid whipped away on the wind before anyone had a chance to see it, but its warmth felt comforting against his palms, and he raised it to inhale its spicy scent while he waited for Aplyn-Ahrmahk’s report. The steep-sided crest of Ahna’s Point was visiblefrom deck level, however, which meant he already had