Even in poling depth the cluster of rafts was awkward. Earrin and Kahvi had sometimes tried masts and sails, but neither knew anything significant about the art and had to depend on following winds. In deep water they usually used sweeps and Bones.

At the moment the human couple were resting, with their sweeps trailing alongside. The Observer, however, was still at work; the tow lines extending from two of the bow floats were taut, and the raft was still moving slowly westward. If bad weather would only hold off for another hour or so, the cargo might be safe after all. If it didn’t — well, Bones could retrieve it from the bottom, but that would be unwise in sight of the Hillers. The group which had ordered this cargo seemed to have a very low opinion of the natives — there had been some mention of “Invaders” during the negotiations, though neither Kahvi nor Earrin had pursued that line of discussion.

But there was no point in worrying about things which hadn’t happened; the important thing was action which would get them to the Canton shore and the jail as quickly as might be. Earrin was already taking up his long oar again. Kahvi did the same. The new child was not yet large enough to interfere.

At least there was no wind against them yet. The foamy tissue rode very high, and the whole structure was much less affected by water currents by those in the air. Progress was steady.

Both rowers looked over their shoulders to see whether the low clouds, colored by dioxide, were appreciably closer, but neither allowed their efforts at the sweeps to slacken, and gradually the shore grew clearer through the haze. The Blue Hills could still be seen to the south, which was a hopeful sign.