Death on the Burnt Ocean: The Tales of the Territories, Book One by Peter Wacht

Author:Peter Wacht [Wacht, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kestrel Media Group LLC
Published: 2023-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

13

BAD OMEN

Standing at the bow of the Resolution, the newest three-masted clipper added to his family’s growing fleet, Abram kept his eyes closed, attempting to block out the noises around him. The shouts and conversations of the sailors as they went up and down the rigging, scrubbed the deck, and did the myriad other jobs required to maintain the sleek vessel. The snapping of the ropes and the sails at the insistence of the wind. The seagulls cawing loudly as they circled the crow’s nest.

Although it proved difficult, he succeeded, cutting out all the distractions around him and concentrating only on the ocean. Enjoying the touch of the warm sun on his face, he relished even more the rhythm of the vessel cutting through the rough waves, the crests not as high as they would be for a ship not of his new design, the troughs not as deep.

The unique design of the hull did more than allow the ship to glide through the sea with an unmatched grace. It also added several knots to their speed, what was becoming the primary distinction of Carlomin Trading Company compared to their competitors.

He heard only the pounding of the waves and the Resolution’s sleek hull sliding through the water. To his ears, it was the sweetest of sounds.

Eyes still closed, he smiled broadly. Every time the bow dipped into a trough a salty spray shot up over the prow. He enjoyed the refreshing mist as it dampened his hair and his clothes.

This was where he preferred to be. On deck. Not in his office, reading documents, reviewing charts and numbers, and dealing with the almost inexhaustible issues that he needed to address on a daily basis in order to keep his business afloat … literally.

No, he much preferred being on one of his ships. Out on the water. Seeing everything with his own eyes. Judging for himself how things were going. He couldn’t do that from his dock in Ballinasloe.

Joining his captains and crews on their routes was the only way to get a feel for what was working with his business and what wasn’t. What practices needed to be established, what practices needed to be refined, and what practices needed to be eliminated.

That meant that he had to listen to what his sailors had to say. He had to keep his eyes open. So for the first time since he had settled himself at the bow, he did, shielding his gaze from the glare of the bright sun. For as far as he could see, there was nothing in all directions but a rough blue sea.

Abram had been a soldier before he had become a vintner, trading in his sword when he met Isana. He had learned quickly during his time as a scout in the Royal Guard that the only way to make good decisions, especially before a fight, was to get the lay of the land. He had applied that practice to his business, and he was doing that right now.

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