Chapter Twelve
A man who takes a peaceful passage at sea for granted soon finds the gods spitting in his eye. Duncan heard the words of his grandfather, mariner of the western isles, so vividly he could smell the peat smoke on the old man’s clothes. He braced himself as another swell crashed over the bow of their little brig.
Aman who takes a peaceful passage at sea for granted soon finds the gods spitting in his eyeDuncan had underestimated the inland sea. When they had begun their sail north, he had described it as a pond to the ship’s commanding officer. It had no tide, had no currents, none of the rocky shoals that plagued the vessels of the Hebrides in Duncan’s youth. The bearded naval lieutenant who served as captain had smiled patiently and pointed to a bank of clouds on the north
