Scimitar Sun Read Online Free PDF

metal,* Quickfin said, making a gesture of confusion. *But if you feel you must do this thing, we cannot stop you.*
    *You are right, my friend, you cannot stop me,* she signed emphatically, then added, *Thank you for not trying.*

Chapter Two
    Departures and Arrivals
    “Prepare to come about, Chula. Set a course of forty degrees. We’re well past the reef.”
    Cynthia pushed herself off the leeward rail of Peggy’s Dream to stand upright on the steeply inclined deck and stepped out of the stream of seawater that splashed through the scuppers. She often felt like she was cheating when she used her seamage talents to weave her ships through the treacherous reefs of the Shattered Isles, but there was no sense in being careless. Her sailors were highly skilled and knew all the major channels, but they had to rely on what they could see from the surface — the black shades of water that signified coral heads, the brown of grass beds, and the clear blue of deep water. Cynthia, however, could actually see the underwater topography through her connection with the sea, and guide the ship along the safest and most direct route.
    “Aye, Captain Shambata Daroo. Man de braces! Close haul de sheets! Helmsman, bring her up as she luffs, if you be pleased.”
    Cynthia smiled at her first mate’s gentle but effective orders. Chula had already been an apt seaman with the outrigger canoes that his people used for travel, and had quickly developed an aptitude for sailing. In only two years, he had earned his berth as first mate of her most prized possession, Peggy’s Dream . She also liked it to an uncommon degree when he called her captain. It was a title she had always aspired to, but had thought unreachable.
    “You heard de mate! Wha’cha waitin’ for? Get dose sheets in and haul de braces ’round until luffing! Do I have to do dis all meself?” Paska strode down the deck meting out less gentle but every bit as effective encouragement to the largely native crew. Her natural get-it-done manner made her the perfect boatswain. Besides, she and Chula would not be separated.
    Neither her baby strapped firmly to one hip, nor Mouse hovering over her shoulder, wagging his finger and chirping his own unintelligible orders, impeded the woman’s progress or efficacy. The full-length sarong Cynthia had convinced her to wear, however, tripped her up repeatedly. All the crew wore breeches or sarongs, and the women wore brightly colored halters that at least covered their breasts. Getting any of them to wear more than a scrap of leather barely large enough to make a wallet had been a half-day chore, and all the crew were performing less effectively due to the unaccustomed garments, but visiting more civilized ports made the concession necessary.
    As Peggy’s Dream came up on the wind, Cynthia looked aloft at the sails and grinned. Sailing was her favorite of all things; a symphony of dynamic forces — wind and waves and currents — exerting their will on the ship, while the sails, keel and rudder captured and directed those forces to drive them forward.
    “Hard alee, now, helmsman. Jib sheets first, if you be pleased, Paska.”
    “I know to haul jib sheets first, Chula! Do you t’ink I am sleeping?”
    Peggy’s Dream surged forward on her new tack, her bow now pointed toward Southaven. When all was secure on the new course, Paska’s steady stream of orders waned and she came aft to where her husband and Cynthia stood beside the wheel.
    “All is bein’ secure,” she said, stumbling as the hem of her sarong caught her foot again. “Blast dis annoyin’ piece of cloth! Captain Shambata Daroo, I cannot work with dis t’ing wrapped ’round me like ten tons of canvas! It is bein’ maddening! And little Koybur don’t like it! He is hungry, and cannot get his breakfast.”
    “Little Koybur is doing fine, Paska,” Cynthia remarked, grinning at the baby who clutched at the brightly colored material. “Shorten it a little if