coast, then?”
“Sure do. Not interested in the long hauls. They run into too much trouble on the open sea for my taste. Take the Ba’al Hayam . She just came in all banged up in a bad one near Cyprus, word has it.”
Lev nodded, gnawing on an oversized wad of bread and dabbing at a wayward bead of honey syrup that sewed a silky thread into his scruffy beard.
“I know. I was on her.” Simon finished tying his thongs and leaned back as the inn’s mistress set the food, wine, and his cup on the table.
“You took the storm? I hear it was bad.” Lev swallowed noisily and fixed an expectant gaze on Simon.
“It was bad.” He offered no more but instead tore off a chunk of steaming bread and stuffed it into his mouth.
Lev wasn’t one to give up easily, though. He primed Simon’s cup with wine and pressed him for more. “How bad?”
“Bad enough.” Simon mouthed around his bread. “We were supposed to put into Acco, but the storm blew us too far off course. Did so much damage to the ship that we came straight back to Joppa. Omer will be plenty upset when he hears about all the cargo we tossed.” Simon emptied half his cup in a swallow. He coughed as the alcohol burnt his throat, raw from the sea.
“Heard he already has.” Gali sputtered crumbs as he garbled through a mouthful bread. “Think Shem got called up this afternoon to account.”
Simon raised his eyebrows. “Probably so. There wasn’t much left aboard when the storm cleared.”
“That’s true.” Isaac spoke up for the first time. “I took two trips on the supply boats to unload what was left. Just about everything in the first load was ruined and the second trip wasn’t worth making at all.” He leaned forward with both arms on the table. “Her mast was split. They’re banding it with iron, but it needs replacing. The gunwale rails were cracked or smashed in several places where the crew threw cargo too heavy to clear it.”
“Or hit by cargo tossing on the deck.” Simon muttered. “Surprising how much damage a loose amphora can do.”
Isaac nodded. “The sail was frayed bad where it tore loose from the crossbeam. The cross belts kept it from shredding, but it’s still in bad shape. No repairing that one. It’ll need to be replaced.”
“Anybody hurt?” Lev stared unblinking, his mouth ajar.
“Not bad. One broken leg and the usual cuts and bruises. Could’ve been worse.”
“Lucky.”
“Right. Lucky.” Simon’s raw back throbbed at the memory, and he stifled a wave of nausea as the helplessness he felt at being nearly washed overboard refilled his mind. He recalled overwhelming fear freezing him when the first monstrous wave crashed over the prow. Soon the fear lapsed into resignation that he would not survive, that it would only be a matter of time. Resignation then gave way to anger at the callousness of fate and his own stupidity for being at sea in the first place. He threw himself into his work, doing everything he could to fight back at the storm not because he felt it would save him, but because—well, just because. He shook his head. If there was any luck involved, it was all bad luck.
Gali interrupted his thoughts. “When’s your next run?”
Simon glanced up. “I don’t know. It’s too late to go back for the consignment at Acco. I heard rumor the Ba’al was due for a long haul, though. Malta, maybe farther. It’ll be weeks before she’s ready to go anywhere.”
“Longer than that,” Lev muttered as he refilled his cup. “No matter how long, though; don’t know that I’d be anxious to board her anytime soon.”
Simon stretched back and yawned. “Need the money. Gotta eat. Guess I’ll go when it’s time. Don’t know yet.”
Lev frowned. “Sure, still...”
Many times had Lev voiced his reasons for avoiding the big ships. Simon couldn’t argue his points. Greedy owners overloaded them to squeeze every piece of silver out of a shipment they could, and it was too easy for a storm to
“Sure do. Not interested in the long hauls. They run into too much trouble on the open sea for my taste. Take the Ba’al Hayam . She just came in all banged up in a bad one near Cyprus, word has it.”
Lev nodded, gnawing on an oversized wad of bread and dabbing at a wayward bead of honey syrup that sewed a silky thread into his scruffy beard.
“I know. I was on her.” Simon finished tying his thongs and leaned back as the inn’s mistress set the food, wine, and his cup on the table.
“You took the storm? I hear it was bad.” Lev swallowed noisily and fixed an expectant gaze on Simon.
“It was bad.” He offered no more but instead tore off a chunk of steaming bread and stuffed it into his mouth.
Lev wasn’t one to give up easily, though. He primed Simon’s cup with wine and pressed him for more. “How bad?”
“Bad enough.” Simon mouthed around his bread. “We were supposed to put into Acco, but the storm blew us too far off course. Did so much damage to the ship that we came straight back to Joppa. Omer will be plenty upset when he hears about all the cargo we tossed.” Simon emptied half his cup in a swallow. He coughed as the alcohol burnt his throat, raw from the sea.
“Heard he already has.” Gali sputtered crumbs as he garbled through a mouthful bread. “Think Shem got called up this afternoon to account.”
Simon raised his eyebrows. “Probably so. There wasn’t much left aboard when the storm cleared.”
“That’s true.” Isaac spoke up for the first time. “I took two trips on the supply boats to unload what was left. Just about everything in the first load was ruined and the second trip wasn’t worth making at all.” He leaned forward with both arms on the table. “Her mast was split. They’re banding it with iron, but it needs replacing. The gunwale rails were cracked or smashed in several places where the crew threw cargo too heavy to clear it.”
“Or hit by cargo tossing on the deck.” Simon muttered. “Surprising how much damage a loose amphora can do.”
Isaac nodded. “The sail was frayed bad where it tore loose from the crossbeam. The cross belts kept it from shredding, but it’s still in bad shape. No repairing that one. It’ll need to be replaced.”
“Anybody hurt?” Lev stared unblinking, his mouth ajar.
“Not bad. One broken leg and the usual cuts and bruises. Could’ve been worse.”
“Lucky.”
“Right. Lucky.” Simon’s raw back throbbed at the memory, and he stifled a wave of nausea as the helplessness he felt at being nearly washed overboard refilled his mind. He recalled overwhelming fear freezing him when the first monstrous wave crashed over the prow. Soon the fear lapsed into resignation that he would not survive, that it would only be a matter of time. Resignation then gave way to anger at the callousness of fate and his own stupidity for being at sea in the first place. He threw himself into his work, doing everything he could to fight back at the storm not because he felt it would save him, but because—well, just because. He shook his head. If there was any luck involved, it was all bad luck.
Gali interrupted his thoughts. “When’s your next run?”
Simon glanced up. “I don’t know. It’s too late to go back for the consignment at Acco. I heard rumor the Ba’al was due for a long haul, though. Malta, maybe farther. It’ll be weeks before she’s ready to go anywhere.”
“Longer than that,” Lev muttered as he refilled his cup. “No matter how long, though; don’t know that I’d be anxious to board her anytime soon.”
Simon stretched back and yawned. “Need the money. Gotta eat. Guess I’ll go when it’s time. Don’t know yet.”
Lev frowned. “Sure, still...”
Many times had Lev voiced his reasons for avoiding the big ships. Simon couldn’t argue his points. Greedy owners overloaded them to squeeze every piece of silver out of a shipment they could, and it was too easy for a storm to
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