Chapter three
We sail for BormarkWe stared aft as that cruel bronze rostrum smashed through spray after us. The oars rose and fell, rose and fell, beautiful in their way, derisive of the agony entailed in their hauling. Pompino stamped a booted foot upon the scrubbed deck.
“Now I am growing heartily sick of this seafaring life, Jak! I thought buying a few ships and trading would turn an honest ob or two, in between serving the Star Lords. Yet it seems an honest sailorman’s life is bedeviled every which way he turns.”
Somewhat drily, I said: “They are probably not pirates, Pompino. No doubt they are some of the Seaborne Watch of Peminswopt. They would like to ask us some questions.”
Pompino eyed the pursuing craft meanly. She foamed along, yet I fancied that once we left the shelter of
