"So," Lanko told him, "now you know."
Musa nodded. "I turned something down, didn't I?"
As Musa disappeared over the vessel's side, the priest, Dontor, lowered his arms. Quickly turning the unscheduled event to advantage, he cried, "We need worry no further, my children. The Great One has called this blasphemer to final account."
He turned to one of his juniors, lowering his voice.
"Go below, Alnar, and break out this man's goods. We must reward those who informed us."
The junior bowed. "Yes, sir." He hesitated. "Will this storm blow over soon?" he queried.
Dontor smiled. "You should have paid more attention to your course in practical seamanship," he chided. "We are sailing fairly close hauled, so our speed is added to that of the wind. And, since storms move, it'll pass us shortly." He pointed to the horizon.
"See that small break in the clouds? That indicates a possibility of clear weather beyond. We should be through the worst of the storm in a matter of a few hours. And we'll never reach the really dangerous core of the storm, for we are passing through an edge of it. Our only problem is to keep from losing a mast during the time we are close to the storm's heart." He paused, looking aloft.
"The crew is competent. They have the sails properly reefed, and, if necessary, they can furl them in short order. What trouble can we have?"