Like all Homes, Big Sal's People did hunt the big fish, and the result was her primary trade asset—gri-kakka oil. Much of her store was lost in the fire, but hopefully enough remained to finance her repairs.
Some boats ran away as soon as they sighted them, and some went on ahead after a short conference with Chack. A few stayed and took station on Big Sal as they made their way north-northeast. Occasionally, curious crews ventured to gawk at Walker and her outlandish folk, but generally they avoided the destroyer.
Late the next afternoon, as the sun neared the horizon and set the low clouds aglow, they entered Balikpapan Bay. For the first time since they'd seen her, Big Sal's massive sails descended and scores of great sweeps extended from her sides like the legs of a giant centipede and she propelled herself against the ebbing tide right into the mouth of the bay. Matt wasn't sure what he'd expected. A small settlement perhaps. Chack and the others often referred to Balikpapan as the "land colony," and he guessed that made him think in diminutive terms. But the civilization they beheld was a virtual metropolis. Two more Homes, similar to Big Sal, were moored in the broad harbor, and hundreds of smaller vessels plied back and forth.
A long pier jutted from a point of land almost exactly where they'd last seen Japanese troopships burning. The sensation was surreal. Lemurian fishing boats were tied to it now, and beyond the pier was a city.
That was the only word to describe it, even if the architecture was . . . unusual. Wooden warehouses lined the waterfront, but beyond were high pagoda-like structures much like Big Sal 's towers. Most were just a few stories tall, though broader than those on the ship, but a few reached quite stunning heights. These were multitiered, and each "story" was slightly smaller than that directly beneath it, which gave them the appearance of extremely tall and skinny Aztec temples. Otherwise, the pervasive "pagodas" continued to make a generally Eastern impression.
The most unusual architectural feature, however, was that every building in view—except the warehouses—was built on massive stilts, or pilings, that supported the structures at least a dozen feet above the ground. In the open space beneath them was an enormous market, or bazaar, that had no apparent organization at all. As far as they could see from Walker's bridge, it occupied and constituted the entire "lower level" of the city. The market was teeming with thousands of Lemurians, coming and going, engaging in commerce, and deporting themselves more like the denizens of Shanghai than the 'Cats they'd come to know. Color was everywhere. Most of the buildings were painted, and large tapestries and awnings were hung beneath and, in many cases, stretched between them. The dominant colors were reds and blues, but gold was prevalent as well, and the whole thing starkly contrasted with the dark green jungle beyond and the dirty, gray-blue bay.
"Looks like Chefoo," Gray murmured, mirroring Matt's thoughts.
The arrival of the destroyer and the battle-damaged Home hadn't gone unnoticed. Hundreds of spectators lined the quay and watched as the two ships approached. Small boats sailed back and forth, jockeying for a view, and twice Matt ordered full astern to avoid running over the more intrepid or foolhardy sightseers. The smell of the city reached them on the gentle breeze, and although it wasn't unpleasant, it too was somewhat alien. Riotous, unknown spices on cooking meat and fish predominated, although there was a hint of exotic flowers and strange vegetation.
All competed with the normal harbor smells of salt water, dead fish, and rotting wood. There was even a tantalizing undertone of creosote.
Big Sal continued past the wharf, the long sweeps dipping, until she reached a point opposite a large, empty dock with more warehouses and a tall wooden crane. There she backed water and ever so slowly began to inch her massive bulk closer to the dock. Lemurians scampered about in a very recognizable way, and huge mooring lines were passed to the ship.
"We'll anchor two hundred yards outboard of Big Sal, Boats," Matt said. "Let's keep a little water between us and shore until we find out what's what."
"Aye, aye, Skipper," Gray responded and clattered down the ladder.
Dowden conned the ship to the point Matt instructed, and with a great booming rattle, the new starboard anchor dropped to the silty bottom of Balikpapan Bay.
"Maintain condition three, Mr. Dowden," Matt ordered as he turned to leave the bridge. "I'm heading over to Big Sal. Mr. Garrett, Chack, Lieutenant Tucker, and two armed men will accompany me. Pass the word, if you please: dress whites and crackerjacks."
They motored across to Big Sal and made the long climb to its deck.
Matt had been aboard several times now, but he was only just becoming accustomed to the sheer size of the ship. Courtney Bradford and the destroyermen who'd been helping aboard greeted them. Matt sent Bradford back to Walker to make himself presentable and told him to return in thirty minutes.
As usual, they went through the boarding ritual, but as soon as they had, the Lemurian who'd given permission raced off. When he returned, he was accompanied by Adar and High Chief Keje himself. Both were dressed in garments representative of their status. Adar wore the same cape or "Sky Priest suit" he'd worn every time Matt had seen him. Keje wore his polished copper armor over an even finer tunic than the one he'd first worn aboard Walker. Gold-wire embroidery graced every cuff, and his polished and engraved copper helmet now boasted the striated plumage from the tail of a Grik warrior. A sweeping red and gold cape was clasped at his throat by a chain of polished Grik hind claws. He won't let anyone forget that Big Salbroke the Grik for the first time, Matt thought.
Matt and the rest of his party, including Chack, saluted him. Matt still thought it appropriate, since Keje wasn't just the captain of a ship, but was, in effect, a head of state. Bradford was trying to sort out all the nuances of Lemurian society, but so far it seemed rather confusing. The closest analogy he'd come up with was that of the ancient Greek city-states, or possibly even the United States under the Articles of Confederation. Each Lemurian ship was considered a country unto itself, with its own laws and sometimes very distinctive culture. The Trade Lands or Land Colonies had the same status, but as they grew in size, they also grew in economic influence. So, although still theoretically equal, some of the more tradition-minded Homes resented the upstart "mud-treaders."
"Greetings, U-Amaki, Keje-Fris-Ar," he said, and Keje grinned widely, returning the salute.
"Greeting you, Cap-i-taan Riddy. Bad-furd teech I speek you words.
Good, eh?"
Matt grinned back. "Very good, Your Excellency. I regret I haven't done nearly as well learning your language." Keje was still grinning, but clearly he hadn't caught everything Matt said. Chack elaborated in his own language.
"Ah. Good! Chack speek for we! He learn good!" Matt nodded at Keje's understatement. Chack really had made remarkable progress. He'd seen people pick up enough of a new language to get by with in a week, through total immersion, but he'd never seen anyone learn one as well as Chack in so short a time.
"He has indeed."
They waited companionably until Bradford returned. All the while, locals came aboard and talked excitedly with Keje's people. Many were shipwrights, looking at damage they expected to be commissioned to repair. But most were just visitors who wanted to hear the story of how it happened, and wanted most of all to stare at the strange people with no tails who came from the ship without wings. The decks of Home had taken on a decidedly festive, holiday-like atmosphere.