Nand’ Bren did not speak to him, not immediately, and that meant nand’ Bren was probably framing an educational remark, something he might think adequate to the situation. It was taking a very, very long time to come out, or to organize itself, or possibly a long time for nand’ Bren to surmount his temper, and Cajeiri began to agonize about the adequacy of his response, right along with nand’ Bren.
“Nand’ Bren,” Cajeiri said finally, breaking the deathly silence that hovered above the rumble of the boat engine and the noise of the thunder. “Nand’ Bren, one understands that our stupidity has exceeded all previous limits, and that we have exposed you to the displeasure of my house, which is entirely unjustified, and we shall tell our father so. We are all three extremely grateful to you and your guard for our rescue, because we could have been killed—though one was making the most earnest efforts to steer the boat and to reach the shore. We are most sorry. We shall obey all instructions from your staff. We shall ask funds from our father to pay your estate for the boat, which we in no way intended to destroy; and we shall pay for the damage to your boat. And we shall forever observe much, much better sense than we did in going out on the water. We shall be much wiser from now on, nand’ Bren.”
He ran entirely out of breath: his teeth were chattering so he had had trouble getting that much out. But he added, because he had to know: “Have you told my father, nandi?”
“Yes. And the aiji-dowager is aware. You should know, young gentleman, that she had turned back to Shejidan after the incident of your freight train. She started home a second time and has now turned around a second time in mid-flight, hearing you were lost, and come here. She will be arriving at the estate, and one is about to call her to inform her you are safe, now that we are somewhat on even keel.”
Great-grandmother. Two flights turned around. He wasin great difficulty.
He sat absolutely still while Bren took up the handset, punched buttons, and made a call, first to nand’ Toby, and to Jago aboard nand’ Toby’s boat, telling them to come about, that he had them all; and next to a Lord Baiji, which seemed to be another boat, thanking him very much for his assistance in locating them.
And then nand’ Bren called the estate, which took several tries before he succeeded.
“Nadi,” he said to the person who answered, “inform the grandmother that the lost is found and securely aboard. Request of the grandmother that she inform the relatives. You are breaking up, nadi.”
At last he put down the handset and remarked, “One hopes they heard all of that.”
“One is very, very sorry, nandi.” Cajeiri found himself shivering, and where he and the others sat was now the source of a very large puddle, which was running across the deck, this way and that according to the pitch of the boat. It went here, it went there. It was a large puddle, augmented by what had run off Banichi and Tano and Algini, who were almost as soaked.
“There is weather gear in the locker,” nand’ Bren said. “Put it on for warmth.”
“Yes,” Antaro said, and got up and brought back two raincoats. She wrapped one around him and put the other around her and Jegari despite the boat pitching about. It was warmer, very much warmer, already, and Cajeiri began to shiver.
“I gather,” nand’ Bren said, “that you attempted to go out to the boat.”
“We did, nandi. And one thought one could sail back, but every time we tried, we went further out.”
“First, sailing against the wind is not an easy skill. It can be done. But when the moon pulls on the water, young gentleman, it and everything sitting on it move out to sea—in the case of bays along this coast, quite rapidly so.”
“Is that what happened?” He was amazed. He knew about tides. But he had gotten caught, all the same, and never realized what was happening to them. “Nandi, we meant only to go out and see the boat.”
“No excuses, young gentleman. You should have sailed straight across the harbor when you realized you were in trouble. You would have reached land before the tide pulled you out.”
“We were trying to go faster, nandi, and use the speed to go against the wind.”
“That will never work. Given time, and if you do not drown yourself, young gentleman, one will be pleased to show you how to sail against the wind. It is a case of patience and subtlety. One recommends both.”
“One offers no excuses for our behavior, nandi,” he said very meekly. “One accepts all responsibility. My companions urged us not to do it.”
“Nandi,” Jegari said, “you are not obliged to say so. It is our responsibility.”
“It ismy fault,” Cajeiri said, angry, and upset. “And we choose to take the responsibility.”
“One dares say you will. Antaro.”
“Nandi?”
“There is a dry life vest in that bench over against the wall. Go get it and put it on.”
“Are we going to sink, nandi?” Cajeiri asked.
“You will notice wewear them in these seas.”
That was so.
“Put it on,” nand’ Bren said. “And next time you steal a boat, young gentleman, be sure you have oars and enough life preservers.”
“Yes, nandi.”
He knew he had to hear very stern rebukes from his father, his mother, Great-grandmother, and eventually Great-uncle Tatiseigi. It made it worse that he had, this time, richly deserved it.
But it was, after all, interesting that they had gotten caught by the tides, which was a mysterious thing, and not something he had ever been specifically warned againstc
“Hot tea?” Tano suggested, and, indeed, from further back in the cabin, Tano brought a big tray of mugs. Algini was nursing a sore hand—the swelling looked very nasty, and Banichi was soaked and grim, and very gladly took a cup. So did nand’ Bren, and they three did.
Hot tea helped. It warmed all the way down. Cajeiri drank half the mug and sat contemplating the scope of the disaster around him. And then curiosity about what Bren kept looking at on the table propelled him to his feet, though everybody else had sat down. He staggered a little on the heaving deck, but he came close, and saw it was a chart on a lighted table.
“Where are we?” he asked nand’ Bren, and Bren pointed to a place just off Najida Peninsula.
“We have to go wide into the bay,” nand’ Bren said, “because those are rocks. They lie beneath the water at high tide, and have taken the bottom out of boats.”
It was all more complicated than he had thought. He had known the starship—well, not how to run it, but how to run most everything he met, and to open most any door, and he had always known where things were kept.
The planet was just big and full of surprises. And tides. Surprises got you even when you already knew about them, if you failed to use your head. And when you needed something, it might be clear back in Shejidan.
“One is very sorry about the boat,” he said. “Nand’ Bren, we tried to row back, but we lost the oars.”
“It can easily happen, young lord,” nand’ Bren said. He was less busy now. He managed the wheel with one hand and held his tea mug with the other. “Did you know how to secure them through the oarlocks?”
“No, nandi,” he said, since, whatever that was, he had not secured the oars at all.
“Well, young gentleman, I shall also show you how to row a boat, if the aiji-dowager permits the time.”
“One would be most grateful, nandi.” He was thoroughly miserable. And he squished when he moved, even if the raincoat made him much warmer. He looked down at his feet, and saw he was still adding to the puddle that was wandering back and forth across the deck. “We shall never, ever take a boat that is not ours again.”
“That would be wise, young lord,” nand’ Bren said calmly. Nand’ Bren was always calm, no matter what. He wished he could be as calm. And nand’ Bren said: “Not taking anythingthat is not yours, except, of course, should there should be an emergency, would be a very good policy, young gentleman.”