Chapter 3: Rough Waters

The Colonel sighed wearily, clutching his spyglass tiredly to his chest. He had been waiting at the aftercastle all day now, hands gripped upon the rails and eyes peering into the distance waiting for any sign of land. It was the highest point on the ship bar the crows nests themselves, but he’d be damned if he was going to climb up into one of those deathtraps. To say nothing about the effect his appearance, after climbing up an eighty foot pole as the ship rocked in the relentlessly churning water, would have upon his men’s morale.

The cliff, spotted earlier looming out of the early morning mists, had appeared misleadingly close. It had been a whole day of sailing towards the sighted land, and yet it seemed barely any closer than when they had first spotted it. What’s more, the seas had become rougher and it had rained heavily earlier, tossing the ship one way and that as wave upon wave broke itself upon the ships bow. He had puked then, multiple times in fact as he had stuck to his post in the face of the storm. He had taken great pains to avoid being noticed as he had done so, leaning over the railing and out of sight to discharge the contents of his uneasy stomach. He turned green at the memory, wondering if preserving his stoic reputation amongst the sailors and passengers had been worth the trouble.

He looked once more at the stygian pillar, rising from unknown depths as it split the nights sky, moonlight barely reflecting upon the surface. It was tall alright, one of the largest rock formations he had ever seen, easily over 200 feet high. Even now, after a days sailing they had only seen a little more of the vast cliff than when it had originally peeked out of the clouds and mists. At this rate, it would take days to even reach the coast, let alone finding a suitable harbor to shelter the fleet from the storms. What’s more, as they drew ever closer to the shore the sailors had become increasingly worried at not only the rougher waters, but the obstacles within.

They had spotted several reefs over the course of the day, lurking just below the water’s surface. Large rocky formations, some of a dark and jagged stone while others were made of a more commonly found white coral dotted the area. He had ordered an immediate halt to the fleet’s movement upon sight of these reefs, hailing its members via semaphore to organize them into a line. Sounding the depths returned a reading of 40 feet, still quite deep and revealing how far from shore they still were.

The lightest ship of the fleet, the Tempest, was reorganized at the fleets head. The most keen eyed spotters among the sailors in the fleet had been transferred aboard to spot the reefs long before the ship ran aground. Following the Tempest, the fleet had moved at a far more sedate and cautious pace, each ship following behind the other in a line as they threaded a needle through the only safe path they could find through the reefs. With such adversity arrayed against even a mere landing upon the New World it was no wonder the previous expedition had vanished, the Colonel mused.

When night had fallen, he had ordered a halt, the entire fleet dropping anchors to wait for daybreak. These waters were far too dangerous to be treading lightly upon them in the dark. He did not however relax, the storms that had bracketed them earlier that day would likely return, and if they did while they were still navigating the reefs they would be run aground one and all. The thought sent shivers down his back. With even the shoreline beyond sight, there would be no chance of survival if the ships became disabled.

He put his spyglass back into its pouch, hidden within one of his coat’s many pockets and went to return to his cabin. The challenges this expedition would face just kept mounting. Even if they did find a safe harbor after navigating through these reefs, the entire area would need to be dealt with. Marked off with a network of buoys or turned into artificial islands by depositing countless pounds of rubble upon them. Light houses would also need to be constructed, probably upon the artificial islands in lieu of actual islands in the area. All so that wherever they did manage to make land and found a colony would be accessible through a navigable route. He furrowed his brows at the thought of all of the valuable labor that was needed to raise walls, build houses, and clear forests being lost just to allow the next waves of colonists to arrive.

He fell exhaustedly back onto his bed, only remembering to take off his damp clothes after the sheets had already been soaked. Sighing he removed one boot then the other, dumping the rest of his clothes in a pile on the floor. It was unbecoming and the expensive cloth may become damaged, but he could always have Benson deal with it. He pressed his face into his pillow, mulling over what was to come and the work that needed to be done.

They would surely reach the shore in a few days, even at the current torturously slow pace. It would take weeks or even months to build a harbor capable of sheltering all twenty eight remaining galleons. Houses would have to be built, walls raised, trees felled, and all manner of other necessities for founding a new settlement. It would not be easy and would require much manpower, something which would further delay any attempts of exploration of the interior of the New World. They had sufficient provisions for up to a year for the expedition, stored away throughout the fleets’ holds. It would have to be enough for now. It was still summer and there should still be time for a late harvest if they found suitable fields near their landing. The remainder would need to be made up for by fishing in the local waters.

However rough the seas may have been earlier that day, the sailors had taken some delight in pointing out the numerous exotic and abundant fish swimming in the water alongside the fleet. Bright red, green, and blue ocean creatures of far greater variety and number than what he was used to back in Ingerlund called these waters home. A few enterprising seamen had even caught some, each large and around 2 feet long. He had managed to secure one for his own plate, finding it tougher and more vigorous than those he was accustomed to but still quite palatable. Fishing would likely become a major source of food here and likely a useful means of supplementing the expedition’s long term food supply for when they did deign to travel inland in search of the vanished Longard Trading Company’s men.

 Before that there was still much work to be done. The second wave of colonists were slated to arrive the following year. By then the waters would need to be charted and a safe route marked by buoys and lighthouses. He would be reinforced as well at that time, by the 3^rd Dragoon regiment. He had nothing against them personally, they were excellent light scouts back on the Continent and had served well, with a history of distinction in several conflicts. However, horses would be taxing on his resources and, especially in light of the extremely tall rock formation they had been chasing after all day, he was unsure how well they would even be able to make use of horses in their explorations. Sighing, he closed his tired eyes and fell asleep, the ship slightly rocking as it swayed in the night’s wind.

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