Voyage of the Fox Rider by Dennis L. McKiernan

of agreement rumbled ‘round the table.
    “Aye, Rico, I had intended to. Assemble the Men, and thou, Bokar, gather the Drimma as well. Shall we say at the change of the noon watch on the morrow?”

    Sleet pelted down upon the ship, while in the forward quarters below, Aravan stood on a sea chest and spoke to the
Eroean
’s crew, the weather too harsh to hold an assembly above. And as the hull clove through the rolling waves and brine billowed over the decks, all the Menand Dwarves gathered ‘round their Elven captain, all but three remaining up top—Boder, the wheelman, and Geff and Slane, two aides.
    Aravan spoke of the cape and reminded them all of the weather at this time of year, for although each had been through this passage before, it was two years past and in a different season. Too, they had made the transit from west to east, running with the wind, and this time they fared the opposite way, into the teeth of the gale. Aravan spoke of the ice that would form on the ropes, and of the driven snow that would blind them and weigh down the sails. “Yet,” he said, near the last, “we have made this run before. The
Eroean
is a sturdy ship, and ye are a fine crew. I fear not that we will see the Weston Ocean in but a week or so. Still, I would caution ye to take care, for if any be lost to the waters, we will not be able to wear around the wind in time to save ye in those chill waves, and to do so would put the entire ship at hazard. So, buckle up tightly when up top, for I would see ye all when we’ve passed beyond the horn.
    “Be there any questions?”
    Men and Dwarves stirred and peered ‘round at one another. At last a seaman raised a hand—Hogar, an aid to Trench the cook, signed on just two years past. At a nod from the Elf, the Man stood, cap in hand. “Cap’n Aravan, sir, why not ‘ead east across th’ South Polar Sea and make for th’ Silver Cape? Wot Oi mean, sir, not t’ question y’r judgement or skills, Oi wos but wonderin’ why run again’ th’ wind when we c’n run wi’ it instead?”
    Aravan smiled. “This time of year, Hogar, the Silver Cape is all but impassable, those rocky straits filled with mountainous waves of grinding ice and the air with churning hurricanes. The Cape of Storms is fierce, but the Silver Cape is deadly.”
    Hogar nodded and sat back down. Aravan looked about. “Any other questions?”
    A Dwarf stood, Dask, one of Bokar’s lieutenants. Gesturing with a sweep of his hand at the other Dwarves assembled, he said, “Captain Aravan, we have made this passage before, both ways, and seldom has it been easy. The weather will be fierce, cold, and the crew on short shift, rotating often to stay warm. If the weather is as it has been, then doubtless all will be needed, Men andChâkka alike. I speak only to remind you that we Châkka stand ready.”
    A rumble of approval swept through the assembly, and without comment, Aravan grinned and cast a loose salute to Dask. When silence returned, Aravan looked about, seeking other questions or comments. When none was proffered, he said, “Jatu, an extra tot of rum for all, for hardy times lie ahead.”
    A hearty cheer rang throughout the forward quarters as the Elven captain stepped down from the sea chest and made his way among the crew, while Jatu poured rum from a cask into the eagerly outheld cups.

    Two days later found the
Eroean
rounding the shoulder of the cape. And over these same two days the wind had risen in strength and had risen again, and now the Elvenship beat to the windward into a shrieking gale. Great grey waves, their crests foaming, broke over the bow and smashed down upon the decks with unnumbered tons of water, clutching and grasping at timber and wood and rope, at fittings, at sails, the huge greybeards seeking to drag off and drown whatever they could, whatever might be loose or loosened.
    In the teeth of the blow Jatu ordered all sails pulled but the stays, jibs, tops, and mains. And Men had