Island Hopping

Herron, Master

A tall and unsmiling man - unsmiling because he is an introvert, and finds people difficult, not because he is unfriendly. He likes the sea and the wind, and solitude, and his boat, the Gywngalet, and he likes bringing people and cargo from the mainland to the Lantern Berth. His services are relatively cheap.

It takes a day and a night to sail from the capital to the Berth, north along the coast, and then out into open sea. You and your companions are making the passage for your own reasons. Herron will usually stay awake for the whole trip, but he will advise you to sleep on the deck and tell you not to worry. The breeze is warm, and you doze easily, lulled by the movement of the waves. 

When you wake, Herron is gone, and the Gwyngalet drifts without direction. It is early morning, and the colours of the morning are just starting to illuminate the sky. You can still see the ragged dark outline of the Lantern Birth, and the twinkling of its red and blue lighthouses, on the horizon.

The Gwyngalet

A fleet, shallow-keeled craft with a handsome square-cut sail and brightly painted sidings. Its timbers are pale yellow, nearly white, and the windows of its small cabin are bordered sections of colourful stained-glass. There are oars for manoeuvring without wind, and the sail is slighter larger than standard for a craft this size, giving the Gwyngalet an excellent sailing speed. 

It will bear you well enough close to the shore, but its light frame and poor displacement cannot withstand the rough seas further out. It has a cargo storage on deck - a simple cleared area that can be covered with a tied-down and waxed tarpaulin. The cabin sleeps 2 comfortably or 6 uncomfortably. In the summer and spring you can sleep on the deck, beneath the stars.

It has ample store for rations, water, and trade goods, and would make a fine boat for island hopping, if indeed the islands in the sunset exist. 

Aboard are 2000s worth of trade goods (textiles), 50 rations (including a cask of drinking water), and the ropes, tar, canvas, and tools to maintain the craft. 

If you pull into the Lantern Berth, you will be asked to account for the disappearance of the Master - Herron was well known and respected on the island. 

The Horizon

As you survey your surroundings from the newly empty boat and try to collect yourself, you see something supposed to be impossible. Out to sea, past the Lantern Berth, so far out that they could be visual distortions or tricks of the pre-dawn darkness, are two dim shapes rising from the water.

All have heard the stories of the islands beyond the Berth, and of their fantastic inhabitants - and all know that the islanders swear that they are real. But, to your knowledge, none from the mainland have ever actually seen them. 

Out at Sea at Dawn Ravenscar, David Baumforth