Eventually, Robin sighs and stirs. Her nature is such that she can't remain still - even in bliss - for long.
            "Thank you, my love," she murmurs with heartfelt gratitude.  "WIth you beneath my wings? I'll make it. Pain or no pain."
            "Sooooo, what'll it be?" her voice drops into the practical range. "Track down Huon's army with open inquiries and a no-blades policy? Stalk the hidden Vianis?March into the darkness beneath the altar? Summon the ghost of the woman who gave me to Julian and not to Danu? Ask the Cards if invovling Amber's laughing fire-haired traitorous back-stabbing rat-bastard of a Prince will help the future of the Isles? Return to Methrin's Isle to cloisture amind the faithful politicos?" She raises an ironic eyebrow.
            "And somehow, somehow through it all, find a way to love this place."

He smiles at her and settles back against the edge of the window once more. "No more cards for now," he says. "I would not wish to become a slave of omens, reading the calls of crows and the entails of sheep before every battle, watching cats to determine which way to walk to the stream to bathe, and hearing the death of my loved ones in the cries of owls. No, what we need to determine now, we two, is how stable we think this world's reality remains. Is it so weak that it could pass from existence within the next year? If so, then we lead as many of my mother's people as we can away. Is it stable enough to last a decade or longer? Then we end the war, now, decisively, though diplomacy or murder of every leader of the rebels and the Witch Queens, one by one, until the others see the wisdom of diplomacy."
            He glances back into the temple. "While the tomb calls to me, I would not ask you to go into that darkness beneath the waves, my love. I know what that would cost you."

Green eyes look at Vere as Robin shakes her head in sheer admiration.  "Deep Green, Vere, you're fine." A smile tugs one side of her lips up in a wry smile.
            "You're right. Omens out - I'm scaring myself white here. We two - that's all I ask. Isle stability?" She scratches the back of her head. "After the first insult, Father said it would hold. After the second, the King said it might heal itself if we didn't pick at it. So yeah, when I turn off the drama-vision, you probably got your decade. Therefore, diplomacy and murder. Which could practically be a code name for us, my love." She smiles sweetly to her man.
            "And we'll wait on the waves. Which *would* cost a lot. And I don't have much spare change right now." She nods at Vere's understanding.  "But let's make it quick, okay? Or at least put a re-evaluate time limit on it?"

He nods. "Aye. We do need to see what's down there, and not too long from now." He smiles slightly. "If nothing else, we need to see if your ocarina is down there, or if that's something else we need to see the Chancellor about." He hesitates then, then asks, "What do you think of summoning your mother? Is now the time, or should we wait on it? And I wonder, now that we are where we are, if we should contact our fathers, to tell them of what has happened?"

"Weellll, if we're on the diplomacy and murder path, my only thought is that we should probably contact Mother before Vianis - just in case the Spider decides to spring a nasty surprise on us. But maybe not until *just* before we contact Vianis - in case the Spider has a rigged a trap on her or something. With regards to our Fathers - No.  Both of them have other things to deal with. And as messy as we both are, we're both still on our feet. Which ranks our problems as less than theirs."

Vere nods. "Agreed," he says, as he fans the cards in one hand and quickly begins sorting them into his fortune deck and Robin's trumps.  "I am not in favour of running crying for help."
            He slips his own trump of Gerard from the other trumps, starts to offer the deck to Robin, then pauses. "I wonder, though, if I should contact Corwin, to tell him of Huon's guns? Or shall we assume the king will transmit that information, if he thinks it important?"

Robin gestures for Vere to take the Corwin - after all, she gave it to him. Though, she does want to keep the icky, icky Bleys. 
            "Tell you what," the girl says with a wry twist to her lips, "You call Corwin. I'll call Llewella. Like good little team-players.  Then we leave this place until it drags us back here, K?"

Vere thumbs Corwin's card from the other trumps, and passes the cards to her. "Very good," he answers her. "We shall fulfill our obligations as niece and nephew, then turn our attention to the rapid, and final, end of the war."

"Deal." Robin nods with a smile.

He lifts the card and looks into it.

The girl scrunches her nose in distaste as she looks at the cards in her hand. Okay, just like with Reid. Dealing out the card for Llewella, Robin carefully puts the other cards away in their pouch and pocket. Then she lets her green eyes drift over the image of her green Aunt.

The image is cold, and seems unwelcoming. After longer than Robin expects, the image takes on life and Llewella speaks. "Who calls?". she asks. For all that she must be below the waves, her image is as bright a if she were in the desert.

A nervous squawk is the first sound Robin makes. Then she shakes her head and gets it under control. This is not like 'talking' with her Father. Or Vere. Or Jovian. She has to use words.  "It's Robin, Highness. I... don't mean to intrude but I've run across some things that I thought Rebma might want to know. Should I tell you? Or someone else?"

Llewella blinks, slowly. "What things have you run across?" She seems interested. As the princess moves, the light plays across her. The room behind her is bright and full of mirrors and crystals.

‘Oooo, pretty!’ thinks Robin’s magpie mind before she can stop it.
            “An army," she says,  "Lead by Huon, who proclaims himself an exiled Prince of Amber.  Armed with cannon and rifles that I’m pretty sure are capable of firing underwater.  And rumored to be heading for Rebma in search of a... sword, I think.”  Robin was confident of it all, right up to the last bit.

Llewella's eyes open wider, for a moment.  "A sword.  A pattern-blade.  He'll be disappointed that Moins isn't around to give it to him, if it still exists at all.  I'm not worried about cannon.  Even if he has gunpowder, it won't do him much good down here for the same reason that catapults aren't effective down here.

Robin nods in understanding.  The powder might work but the ballistics are alll screwed up.  Besides Llewella is far more the expert in underwater fighting than she is.

She smiles.  "Thank you, Robin.  I'll pass this along."

“You’re welcome.”  Robin smiles a bit uncertainly back.  This playing nice with the family is still a bit awkward for her.  There’s a pause while the Ranger tries to figure out the etiquette for ending a Trump call.  Then she settles on,
            “Good luck.”

Llewella nods back.

Robin covers the card with her hand.

The card feels cold under her hand, but then so does the wind under the rainy overhang inside the ruined cathedral.

* * *

In the background, Vere is speaking quietly.
            "Vere, uncle."

Pause.

"No, your majesty. We have not quite destroyed the Isles yet, despite our best efforts." One corner of Vere's mouth quirks up a milimeter, to show this is a jest, then his face resumes its normal calm expression. 
            "What have you heard from Rebma recently, if I may ask? Huon was here, with cannon and rifle, and I believe that he may have already left fro Rebma. Though I must confess I am not convinced he is not still here."

Pause.

"I believe he seeks a sword there," Vere answers.  "Or so the rumor has spread among his men.  I would assume, based on a logical series of conclusions that I am certain you can duplicate, that such a sword would be a Pattern blade.  Perhaps he has some reason to believe that either your or Bleys' sword is there?  Or that there is a third sword, and that he can locate and obtain it?"

Pause.

"We were not able to actually converse with him for long," Vere says.  "Our meeting rapidly became heated, and little information of import was exchanged.  Other than establishing that he professes a cavalier attitude towards death, and is not given to attempts to placate angry family members."

Pause.

"I contacted you primarily to carry the news of Huon's guns," Vere says.  "The only other thing I might ask is that if there are, as you say, some of my generation there, you might inquire whether any of them might be willing to come through to lead an exodus from the Isles if it becomes necessary.  It is possible this realm will not be stable for long."   He frowns then.  "Also, have you heard from Random or Julian recently?  I do not know if you have been told that Jovian's dragon was slain by Huon's cannon.  It was an advance unit acting independently, and there is no reason to believe that Huon even knew of Jovian's existence, must less was targeting him directly.  But that is a distinction that makes no difference to the Lady Robin, and I doubt it will carry weight with Julian either.  Whatever small chance there might have been that Huon could have been dealt with via diplomacy has been significantly decreased by this event."

Pause.

Vere nods.  "If you speak with Jerod at any time in the near future let him know that I have made resolving the situation in the Isles my top priority, and I will return the Children of Lyr to Rebma so soon as is possible."  He tilts his head to one side.  "I believe, mine uncle, that this is all of import I have to say just now.  I thank you for your advice and aid."

Pause.

"Thank you, your majesty," Vere replies formally.  He passes his hand over the card, cutting the connection.

Then he turns to Robin.

* * *

Robin carefully puts away the Trump in pouch and pocket.  Looking over at Vere, she can’t help but smile at his lengthier conversation.  He is so much more at ease with the Uncles and the Aunts than she.  But then, he wasn’t raised for decades hiding from their notice.
            A shiver goes through the girl.  It’s probably time they got out of the rain.  And dry.

Vere finishes his conversation and covers the card in his hand, then looks up at Robin.  He smiles when he sees she is already done.
            "I think it is time we move on, my love," he says.  "Do you not agree?"

"Oooooo, definitely."  Robin nods and grins evilly.  "Let's go get dry and then hunt us up some Witch Queens."

Vere nods.  "I think it likely that there will be a ship just outside the harbour.  Small enough to be easily sailed by one experienced hand, yet with a dry cabin filled with towels, blanket, and clean clothing.  Does that not also seem likely to you, beloved?"

The girl shrugs off-handedly with an uncertain moue on her lips.  Right now, she wants to keep her own particular 'likehoods' off of this poor world.  And while she has no particular objection to Vere trying, she's going to be Listening very carefully as he does – just in case.

He stands on the ledge, and smiles once more.  "Regretfully, we must swim to the shore from here.  But once upon the shore we can walk through the forest, where there will be some shelter from the rain."

"Swimmin' and boats...." Robin shakes her head in mock-sadness, "this is going to take some gettin' used to."  But she's smiling when she says it and gamely lowers herself off the ledge and out into the night rain.

Vere leads the way to shore, easily spotting and pointing out for Robin the ripples and swirls in the water that marked underwater obstructions near enough to the surface to prove a hazard to them.

Swimming with her strong but not-to-polished strokes, Robin follows.  All the while being attentive to an expert pointing out dangers.

Once they reached the shore Vere nodded to the forest that stood near them.  "This was once a third of the way up the hills surrounding the city," he said.  "Now, it appears more as it would have when my ancestors were first led to this land."  He smiles at her.  "A shadow of the True Forest," he says.

She smiles back into those blue eyes, thankful for his gesture.  But  lurking behind her own green eyes is a deep-rooted sadness and worry for the True Forest that is becoming no longer so.
"Trees and trails I can do."  She grins.  "Which way to your boat?"

"It has been years since I played here as a child," Vere says, looking around.  "But forests change slowly, and rising water or sinking land, whichever it may be, I know well where I am."  He pointed.  "We cut through there, about a league, and we shall come out at what used to be a small waterfall.  Now, if I judge aright, it should be the mouth of a stream feeding into the sea.  Our craft shall be anchored there."
            He said that last with a tone of certainty, and with a last look behind and the sinking city, he led the way through the sheltering trees.

Vere reaches out with his talents and twists things just so to put the boat where he wants it.  Doing so makes his teeth ache and he feels a great wrongness in the pattern here.

Robin slips into the night forest beside him.  Ah, better.  So much better.  The scent of green growth around her, the faint sounds of furtive nocturnal life, the breath of the trees around her... and Vere there with her.  Yep, MUCH better.
             Almost unconsciously, Robin fades into the darkness taking up a flanking position, though there is a bit of almost-frolic to her guard.

The boat is at anchor in a secluded spot on the riverbank.  Vere finds that the waterfall is much engorged from the constant rains.

Vere regards the small craft for a moment, then turns to Robin.  "Shall we board, my lady?  I wish to check her over for sea-worthiness first.  Manipulating the Pattern so that she was here felt ... odd.  I want to be certain she is what I desire."  He smiles.  "There should also be dry clothes in her cabin, you can dress while I prepare her for departure."

"Okay," Robin says gamely as she clambers aboard the boat.  She knows that she's probably been unsuccessful at hiding her reservations from Vere - as it doesn't quite make sense to her to check the boat for sea-worthiness after one's onboard.  But what the hell, Vere would certainly never get her anywhere NEAR a drowning experience right now.
            "'Felt weird?'" She asks.  "Hmmmmm... maybe these aren't the best skies to be testing new-found wings in, my love."  There's a touch of irony in her words as she heads for the cabin.  Obviously, she isn't objecting too strenuously to dry clothes.

"Ah," Vere answers as he stands on the deck and gazes around, getting a feel for the boat, the way she rides on the water and moves under his feet, before beginning a closer inspection.  "But if I had not tried to fly at all, I would still be left wondering if it were perfectly safe, and I was being foolish in avoiding the most powerful weapon at my command, or if the merest touch of the Pattern would send the world flying into disarray.  I thought it worth the experiment.  And besides, we did need the transport."

"Fair enough."  Robin waves back to him with a smile.  After all, far be it from her to tell someone else not to poke with sticks.

With a nod to himself he sets about examining the vessel he has caused to be.

No one would have found this boat. It was well hidden by hanging vines and only the rising level of the water makes access possible.  The hull would be likely to have taken a scratch or two getting in to this secluded anchor.
            The boat is far enough from Lady's Town that it doesn't seem to be rained upon all the time, just most of it.
            The hull seems to be made of some unusual plant and is painted with some compound to resist water.
            Belowdecks, Robin finds a closet full of clothes: well-made, tight-fitting clothes with extremely regular features, clearly sewn with precision.  She also finds several empty cases of long-term provisions and a number of cases that are strewn about on the low bed, all empty, with indentations for missing--things.
            There are small engraved markings in various places, written in Thari.

Robin strips, towels off and changes into a set of clothes that look like they will serve her active lifestyle best.  After re-arming herself, she takes some time to sound out the engravings as best as she can, all the while wondering whose boat they are stealing.

Someone with good taste in clothes from a variety of shadows, including clothes that look suitable for court as well as rougher work clothes.  The owner seems to have been male, and not overly tall.

The engravings include a metallic plaque which looks like a shipwright put it there, but the measurement system used isn't clear.  The ship is named "Bon Chance III".

"She seems sound enou', my love," Vere calls down from above.  "Somewhat odd to my eye, I do not recognize the construction.  But she is well to take us from here.  To my mother's camp first, I would think, to learn what news there is before we make our next plans?"

"She's not local, love."  Robin starts out calling and ends up speaking as she clambers back onto the deck.  "Your father's maybe?"

In addition to functional sails and a rudder/keel, the boat seems to have a second control system.  There are locked (but not strongly locked) cabinets near the helm that might hold charts.

"Possible," Vere says thoughtfully as he begins unfurling and raising the sail.  "If so, she was kept here in secret.  It is also possible that she was Huon's, used to sail here from the mainland, and the main force of his army."  He frowns.  "Where our family is concerned, pure logic is only successful for so far before significant uncertainty is introduced."

Vere strongly suggests that Fair Isle should be their destination, but he leaves the final decision up to Robin.

Robin looks confused.  “Uhhhh, sorry love.  I’ve lost track of my ‘Isles.’  Is that different from Methrin’s Isle?”

Vere laughs quietly.  "There are hundreds of them, beloved, it is by no means surprising that it is hard to keep them straight.  Methrin's Isle is one of the larger ones, the largest that is still held by my mother's forces.  It will be the focal point for any major military undertaking, and is closer to the front lines of the war than Fair Isle, where the priestesses hold their conclave and my mother is based.  It was to Fair Isle that I first sailed when I came here, and it is Fair Isle where I expect the dragons and their riders have returned for their own conclave.  So, if we wish to speak with my mother, and with the dragonriders, then Fair Isle should be our destination.  If we think it best that we make an immediate foray towards either the rebels or the Witch Queens, then we go to Methrin's Isle, speak with the forces there to learn the current situation, and strike out."

“Oh, okay.”  Now that she’s oriented Robin doesn’t have any objections to the Fair Isle.  Even though, she’s more of the strike out on her own type.

He is more comfortable with sail, but he will explain to Robin what he has discovered concerning the alternate propulsion system, its apparent fuel reserves, and the probable differences in speed.

Vere's best guess is that the engine is fast, because it's big.  There's a fuel gage, but the needle seems to be broken.  That's odd, since none of the rest of the equipment is damaged.

Vere regards the broken gauge for a moment, and then a small smile crosses his face and he says, "Ah.  Clever.  I must learn to think like this."

Robin nods – well, there’s time and Vere is certainly an apt enough student.  She, herself, can’t maintain a single thought stream long enough to get that sneaky, but she understands it in her relatives.

“Well, if you think speed is an issue, go ahead and fire her up.  If it’s not, let’s hold on to the fuel until times are more exciting.”  ‘Cause you know they will be,’ says her wry smile.
            As Robin hauls on ropes, ducks booms and other boaty stuff, she ponders the things she found in the cabin, looking for matches to her relatives.  Despite Vere’s lack of concern, Robin wants to know whom she’s going to have to explain to.  (Would the clothing have fit Huon and did the indentation in the boxes match the pistol he wore?  Or – given the name of the vessel – did the place have a more.... Lucasian feel to it?  Martin?  After all, one can never tell where or when he will stick his nose.  Someone else?)

Robin doesn't *think* these are Lucas' clothes.  The styles,  sizes, and quantity of them doesn't match his known tastes.  Nor do they look like Huon's.  They're for a skinnier man.  Martin does wear clothes like some of the plainer work clothes that are aboard, but so do many people.

Vere explains the relevant travel times to Robin, and ends with, "I agree that we should save the engine for emergencies, my love.  My suggestion is that we sail, taking the more direct route.  If we encounter foes, we can give them the opportunity to surrender to us."

There’s pointy teeth in Robin’s answering grin.  “Sure!”  The thought of conflict perks her up out of her wondering and unfamiliarity with the boaty-stuff.

With a mock-serious shake of his finger at her Vere says, "No fair altering probability to make it more likely we have to fight!"

“Darling,”  Robin waves dismissively to him with a sparkle in her eye, “my mere presence is enough to tilt things that way.”

With a laugh Vere sets the sails, and the Bonne Chance III turns towards Fair Isle as they have agreed.

The winds are favorable, and the rains are normal spring rains, doing little but keep the horizon grey.  About a day out, Robin spots a small boat on the horizon.  It can't be far from shore, as it has neither mast nor keel.  Probably fishing.

The winds are favorable, and the rains are normal spring rains, doing little but keep the horizon grey.  About a day out, Robin spots a small boat on the horizon.  It can't be far from shore, as it has neither mast nor keel.  Probably fishing.

"Worth our while to speak with them, do you think, my love?" Vere asks Robin.  "Most likely a fisherman, who might be able to give us information.  Although, of course, given the Spider's precognitive powers the chance that she's laid this in our path."  He tilts his head to one side.  "Not that I am necessarily saying we should avoid such a trap, as long as we sail into it knowingly."

“My love.”  She kisses his nose.  “I think you might be being overly-thinky.”
            Her own noses wrinkles as she parses that last statement but with a shrug she carries herself onward.  “I’m for the direct route.  But since we’re detouring for the Fair Isle, anyway, you might as well pile another one on there.”  Robin winks to him to take any perceived sting out of her words.

Vere laughs, and steers towards the smaller craft.  He comes in carefully, making certain to keep the wind with them so that they will be able to turn and retreat quickly if it becomes necessary.

Since Vere is doing the steering, sailing, boaty bits, Robin loosens her sword, strings her bow and makes sure that all her knives are ready.  After all, the surprise, stabbing, hacky bits are definitely hers.

[How much ransacking of The Chance do you do in the preceding day?]

[Vere spent the first half a day or so learning the moods of the Chance, and delighting in being once more upon the sea.  After that, he will suggest to Robin that they go through all the unlocked cabinets, chests, closets and so on.  However, on the chance that the ship does belong to Martin or one of their more paranoid uncles, he'll suggest that they not force any locks, to avoid unnecessary and unsightly explosions]

[That suits Robin.  With the prospect of the Psyche sometime in the indefinite future, Robin wants to get a feel for how to 'boat' with Vere.  She's willing, not stupid, has been exposed to rudimentary naval terms at some time in the past and has some small experience with river-craft, but ocean-sailing?  Definitely on new 'ground' here.   ;)

While Robin totally agrees about inconvenient explosions, she's much more likely to try and force or sneak around a lock than it sounds like Vere is.  In addition, she's the type to carve through the back of a stubborn cabinet.  Or pop the hinges off of a locked  door.  That kind of thing.]

[There are multiple copies of what look like "official" documents, all of which have Prince Martin's picture on them, but different names.  None of them are familiar.]

The boat has three people in it.  A very old man, a child who hasn't grown man-high, and a baby.  The old man is rowing while the boy holds the baby.  When it becomes clear that the two are sailing towards them, they wave at them.
            The old man hails you.  "Hello, the boat!", he yells.

"Hallo!" Vere calls back.  "Refugees, I would judge," he says quietly to Robin.  "It makes little sense for them to be out so far with so young a child."  He steers the Chance closer to them and considers the small boat, judging its seaworthiness.

Robin’s head moves slightly in a nod and weapons become less open without being too much harder to get at.  Robin looks the people over with a critical eye trying to determine how long they’ve been out on the water and if any of the trio needs immediate assistance.  But the talking she definitely leaves to Vere.

The boat will do well as long as the seas are calm enough.  It's a risk for it to be out here, but it seems like a calculated one.  The boat is in good shape and well cared for, but small.  The family is not dissimilar.
            The old man has been eyeing the Chance and seems slightly wary.  "Where are you out of, and how's the weather your way?"

"From the direction of Ladystown," Vere answers, watching their reaction at his choice of name.  "Rain, though gentle enough.  What news of the war?"

Robin keeps her eyes and ears alert to her environment.  After all, given her luck lately it wouldn't be toooo out of the ordinary to be attacked by some large tentacly thing right about now.
She also keeps her ears tuned to any responses the family might give.  Not necessarily listening to the words - Robin's firmly of the opinion that people can and will say any d@mn thing they want - but to the tone of voice, body language and the like.  It's soooo much harder to lie that way.

"It goes on, and those who suffer most are the poor.  As always."  He gestures at the children in his boat.  "We're sailing away from it."

"Is it not always thus?" Vere asks, sympathy in his voice.  "I hear the Lady's son has returned to the Isles, and is seeking to put a final end to the war.  It is said as well that the daughter of Ysabeau is with him."

Yep.  Guardy, guard, guard.  Robin remembers all too well Jovian’s little ‘Magnificent Me’ slip with Siege in the caves and has no plans to do that to Vere while he’s... doing whatever he’s doing.  So no reaction from Robin.

"None o' that's for the likes of me or mine, Captain.  We're good, goddess-fearing men.  We do what the Priestesses say."  He pauses.  "It's good, if true.  Anything that ends this sooner."

"Goddess grant," Vere responds piously.  He tilts his head to one side as though pondering something, and glances at the distant shore, then back down at the boat.  "I heard it from Lord Commander Siege himself," he says then.  "And he is a man who does not lie.  Offer up your prayers, that Prince Vere and his Lady may bring peace to the Isles once more."

While her face is away from the small boat’s crew but visible to her All-Seeing Love, Robin scrunches her nose in distaste at that comment.  Too well, she remembers thinking that Daeon was asking her to pray to him.
             Oh, he would've lllooooovvved this - she just knows it.  In fact, now that she thinks about it, he warned her about this very thing.  The side of her mouth ticks in wry amusement .  Then she shakes her head a little to clear it of the ghosts of her brothers.

The waves and the wind are picking up somewhat, and it's getting harder to converse with him.

The old man bows his head down.  "May the Prince and the Lady bring us peace, as you say.  May they atone for whatever wrong we have done to bring the weight of the Goddess' wrath down upon us."

Robin cocks an eyebrow at Vere and murmurs sotto voce, "So, are you going to offer them a lift or not?"  She herself can hear the repercussions either way and doesn't have a preference.

"Will you be well to make it back in on your own?" Vere calls down to them, as he prepares to head the Chance back out away from land.

"I recon that we will, Goddess willing.  Once we're leeward of the Rocky Islands, we'll be safe from aught but human threats."
            He pauses.  "May we be on our way, Captain?"

"Goddess with you," Vere calls, as he turns Martin's boat away from the small craft.  He waves a farewell to them.

The old man waves as well, and returns to his rowing.

"A small seed planted," he tells Robin.  "Perhaps it will grow.  And a reminder to us that the common folk have no real concept of what this war is about, they just want it over, to get on with their lives.  Our elders have not always proved adept at remembering that power and authority bring responsibility.  It is good for us to remind ourselves of that, I think."

“Ohhhh, Vere.”  Robin says in a sad voice that seems far older than she looks.  “It’s far worse than that.”  The corner of her mouth tugs in an ironic smile and she kisses him fondly on the cheek.  Turning she starts to stroll away from the wheel toward the front of the boat, idly drawing one hand along the gunnel.
            With a sigh, she turns her eyes back to the small boat and does her best to bless them, three small souls on the ocean trying to find their way to peace.

Vere watches her thoughtfully as she walks away, then turns back to the business of steering the ship.  Within seconds the Chance has turned about smartly, and is tacking back towards open sea, and back once more on a heading towards his mother.