An oily, ashy drizzle and light winds made the next day's sailing longer and certainly dirtier. But they managed to pull in to Paradise River's wide mouth to anchor before darkness fell.

Jim and Ezra called a meeting to discuss the possibility of splitting the flotilla into several sections to make better progress. The larger ships were constantly having to reef canvas, even to drag sea anchors, to keep from outdistancing the smaller ones. Of course, the cargoes that were destined to be stored here at Paradise River would be off-loaded and the remainder more evenly distributed. The more precarious rafts would be abandoned, having served their purpose. The dolphineers were grateful: their teams had bravely tried to keep their assigned positions in the convoy and the strain was showing in galls and swollen flesh.

The decision was made that, as soon as the unloading was done, Ezra would lead the larger craft forward at whatever speed they and two pods of escort dolphins could maintain, while Jim followed with the slower, smaller vessels and the larger number of dolphin escorts. The smallest of the sailing dinghies would be dismantled or towed.

The bad weather persisted and the seas became too rough for all but the most experienced sailors, so the Paradise River Hold continued to host them.

On the plus side, the plastics experts, Andi Gomez and Ika Kashima, used the layover to complete manufacture of the sail covers, and doors that could cover open cabin fronts. And Ika came up with an ethnic solution to the problem of protecting the nearly five hundred passengers and crew from Threadfall: plastic headgear, in a wide conical shape, made with wide weals and outward sloping sides—wide enough to cover most shoulders—with a high crown, to fit on the head, tied under the chin. Once the people were in the water, buoyed by the compulsory life vests everyone wore, these conical "coolie hats" would, deflect Thread into the water, where it would drown or be consumed by the fish that invariably arrived wherever Thread fell into the seas. Even the dolphins were known to partake of what they considered an unusual food.

The Paradise River contingent thought Ika's cone hat a definite improvement over the sheets of metal they were used to using for protection if they were caught out in Fall. Overcome by all the praise, the slender Eurasian insisted that she could not take credit for the design.

"Well, it's a bloody good adaptation of a—what did you call it?—coolie hat," Andi said stoutly, "and it'll work. Won't be too hard to turn out once we set the matrix for the design." And she turned back to that task.

"We're lucky we have people of such differing backgrounds," Jim told the embarrassed Ika kindly. "You never can tell when something as simple as straw hats from paddies on Earth can turn out to be life-saving on Pern. Good thinking, Ika! Cheer up, child. You've just saved our lives!"

She managed to send him a shy smile before she retreated once again, but her husband, Ebon Kashima, strutted about the camp as if he had thought of the gear.

"The next problem will be getting our brave sailors to overcome fear of being out in Threadfall, and having it bang down on their heads," Ezra said a little grimly, "no matter how clever the hat they're wearing."

"Look, Cap'n," said one of the Sadrid fishermen. "Push comes to shove and Thread starts falling on you and water's the only safe place, they'll jump in. I sure as hell did that time we got caught out in one of the first Falls. ‘Sides, there're an awful lot of fire-lizards flitting about. Between them and the wild ones that congregate whenever there's Fall, I doubt much Thread'll hit any hat."

"A little practical psychology," Jim said, "and us as good examples, and they'll take to it. They'll have little alternative."

"There's that, too," Ezra said bleakly.

"We'll start some proper chatter where it seems needed," Ben said, nodding to the other dolphineers. They wandered off to start their brainwashing.

By the time coolie hats were extruded and ready to be passed around, most of the flotilla was willing to accept the measure.

"I'd rather be in a sled with a flamethrower," one of the barge mates confided to a friend within Jim's hearing.

"Yeah, but the barge has that slant fore and aft. All we gotta do is hide under that and we'll be safe enough."

Jim and Ezra issued an order that anyone caught without life vest and coolie would be subjected to severe discipline and, if they held any rank, demotion. They also ordered everyone to work a two-hour shift helping produce the protective gear.

As it happened, all the stores were housed and accounted for, and nearly two-thirds of the necessary Thread shields completed before the weather cleared, so the two sections were able, after all, to set off again together. But the bigger ships, with more sail, made the most of the following wind and soon outdistanced the slower craft.

"More like the boat people," Jim remarked to Theo as he tacked back down the strung-out line of his charges.

"Boat people?"

"Hmmm, yes. War victims in the twentieth century. They tried to leave their country—Asians, they were—in the most incredibly unseaworthy craft. Junks and sampans, they were called." He shook his head. "Totally unsuitable. Many died trying to escape. Many arrived at their destinations only to be turned back."

"Turned back?" Theo was outraged.

"I don't remember the historical-political situation at the time. It was before Earth was really united by outwardbound goals. I don't think a one of their craft was as good as the worst of these."

Theo let out a sigh, pointed to starboard where one of the four-meter sloops was flying a distress flag, and dove overboard. When she surfaced, Dart was right beside her, ready to tow her to the crippled ship. Jim entered the matter in his recorder. Broken sheet, he thought, noting the way the boom swung. Lordee, would they have enough line to see them through the constant breakages? He'd better hold another splicing lesson tonight.

"Ah, it was the Heyerdahl expeditions I was trying to remember," he told himself, "only he was doing it deliberately in primitive craft he'd built himself. Not the same thing as this at all." He must remember to tell Theo. He grinned. He enjoyed yarning at her, because she really listened. Occasionally, she responded with stories of her days as a pilot. He rather thought she preferred being a dolphineer, or maybe she was just the sort of person who would make the most of what she had.

Too bad this feat will only be known to us Pernese, he thought. Our Second Crossing: in many ways far more remarkable than the spatial crossing of fifteen light-years in three elderly but suitable spaceships to reach this deserted corner of the Sagittarian sector.

They had two more emergencies that day. The first was a slight brush with the following edge of Threadfall. Ezra spotted the now-familiar grayness ahead, and they were faced with a choice of hoving to or giving their emergency gear a trial run. Jim and Ezra conferred with those ships that were on the comlink, and it was unanimously decided to continue, and see just how effective the safety gear was. Better now, when they knew they'd only have to endur a half hour or more of Fall, rather than a longer period.

So the dolphins and dolphineers spread the command to all the craft not on comlink. Sails were furled and shields put in place; fire-lizards were sent off to collect enough wild ones to help, and the light sea suddenly blossomed with plastic cones.

Jim, his crew of five, and the four dolphineers, though they could have weathered the Edge in the cabin, decided to provide a good example to the timorous. Donning their head protectors and grabbing plastic safety lines, they jumped into the water. That helped a few of the fearful to follow suit. The four dolphins stayed underwater as long as possible, then made mad rushes out to blow and squee-ee.