It was during those first few hectic hours after the storm had passed that the dolphineers had received more serious injuries. A distraught Pha had gone so far as to beach himself to get Gunnar Schultz to medical attention for a deep wound in his thigh, sustained when he'd pushed his way into a cabin to free a trapped child. Efram, Ben, and Bernard had been called in to haul Pha by the tail back into the sea, the dolphin squee-eeing and complaining that they'd do him masculine damage.

By the time the big sled from Fort arrived, Jim knew that, by some incredible miracle, there had been no loss of life. The five missing folk walked in from farther down the beach where their ketch had been stranded: one of the teenage girls had a broken arm, the other a dislocated shoulder, which the newly arrived medics instantly attended. They made the walking wounded sit and sip at restorative "cocktails" that had been mixed and brought along. Some injuries were still life-threatening—two heart attacks and three strokes from exposure and exhaustion—but none that wouldn't respond to treatment and therapy.

The dolphins had been able to locate all of the sunken ships, and buoys now marked their positions. Most could be raised, but the three small ships thrown up on the beach by the heavy seas were too badly damaged to be worth repairing. The barges, unwieldy craft at best, had sunk so quickly that they hadn't been battered by the high waves. Efram with Kibby, Jan with Teresa, and Ben with Amadeus reported that the cargoes were still lashed in place; the barges had been full of low-priority freight, safe enough where it was for now.

As to cargo, no one paid much attention to what he or she grabbed and hauled into piles well above the high-tide mark: it was enough to keep the jetsam on the beach. Leaning wearily against a waterlogged and battered crate, Jim was on the comunit, calling for more people to help with salvage, when he noticed three of the medics walking toward him.

"Look, Paul, I'm damned sorry to add this to your problems," Jim said wearily.

"It's not one I expected, certainly," Paul replied in an odd voice. Jim heard the defeated tone and responded by couching his report in the most optimistic manner he could muster. He rubbed at his face, which was stiff from brine. "Actually, Paul, the way the stuff is floating in on the tide, I wouldn't be at all surprised if we'll salvage most of it. Some's too waterlogged to estimate any damage, but generally the packaging held. As to the ships, Andi's already figuring out repair lists—"

"No jury rigs, damn it, Jim. You've leagues to go yet to reach Key Largo, and Kaarvan told me it's no picnic crossing the two Currents."

"I have no intention of setting sail again until all craft are seaworthy, shipshape, and Bristol fashion, as they used to say." Jim spoke with all the conviction he could manage, adding that old seaman's tag to show he was in good spirits.

He was aware of shadows of the approaching medics lengthening, covering the light from the westering sun. He turned slightly away from them, not wanting his conversation overheard. "Hell, by that time, all the cargo will have dried out, too. Only a few of the cocooned stuff got torn open. Tomorrow we'll have dolphin teams start hauling up what was too heavy to surface on its own. You wouldn't believe what those critters can manage. I'll report in again later, Paul. Don't worry about us. Sled brought us all the help we needed."

As he closed the comunit, someone cleared a throat. Jim looked up to see Corazon Cervantes, Beth Eagles, and Basil Tomlinson regarding him with amusement.

"He's still on his feet," Corazon remarked to the others.

Seeing how tired she looked made Jim aware of his own weariness.

"Only because he's leaning on that crate," Beth said in her pragmatic way. She looked tired, too.

"Old sailors never die, they just fade away," Basil said in a pontificating voice. "No matter, Theo was right," he added, pointing. "He's ricked the gelicast around and split the staples. What's your opinion, Doctors?"

"Repair, then bed rest," Beth said, and before Jim could protest, she pressed a hypo-spray against his arm. As his legs folded and his vision darkened, he heard her add, "You know, I don't think he realizes when it's time to take a break.

The smell of roasting food roused him, but his body was unwilling to respond to the initial commands he gave it to leave the horizontal position. He was on his back, under a canopy of woven fronds, which was certainly rustically unusual. Under him, however, was an air mattress, and a light cover kept the cool of the shade from chilling him. He made a slight error in judgment by rolling onto his right side, preparatory to rising. The sudden weight on a heavy and awkwardly covered right arm was painful enough to force a groan from his lips.

"Ah, you're awake, too, are you?" a voice said from his left.

He twisted about to see Theo lying beside him. She gave him a cocky grin.

"You sicced that unholy trio on me," he accused, not appreciating that justice had similarly immobilized her.

"Dart informed on me," she said with a shrug. "So I figured I'd at least see I had decent company in my ward." In gesturing to their surroundings, she displayed a right arm, marred by four heavily stapled and sealed spiral gashes.

He reached over and took her hand, gently lowering her arm to her side. "How'd you get those?"

She glanced in thoughtful surprise at her arm. "I don't rightly remember. I think we were checking out that five-meter ketch Bruce Olivine sailed. Dart was trying to poke her nose into the for'ard hatch when the whole ship shifted and something snagged me by the arm."

"How're your legs?"

She kicked one free of the light cover. It, too, glistened with sealant. Dispassionately, she regarded the raw scratched flesh that ran from the top of her thigh to her ankle. The inside of her leg was only bruised. "I used to be better able to squeeze through tight places. Should've been okay if I'd had on a full wet suit. It's only to regrow the skin I lost. But I gather we will spend some time here at our pleasant seaside resort."

"Who's taking charge then?"

"The medics," she said with a rude laugh. "Hey, someone!" she called. "We're hungry in here."

"Coming!" a cheerful voice answered.

Jim groaned again as he levered himself up.

"Hey, they are coming," Theo said in alarm. She sat up as he headed toward the thick shrubbery behind their temporary accommodation. "Oh! Always did think you guys had the best of the deal in circumstances like this."

That short but critically necessary excursion proved to Jim Tillek that he had less strength than the fronds bowing to the light wind. It was going to take more time than he had to spare to recover from yesterday's excursions.

"Yesterday's?" Theo laughed lustily, making him aware that he had spoken aloud. "Jim, m'lad, you've been out for the full thirty-six. Today's the day after yesterday."

"My God, then who's…"

She grabbed his hand and gave one pull: sufficient to make his weak knees buckle. The air mattress cushioned his sudden descent, but the jolt reminded him that he had other injuries as well as the broken arm. "Paul sent another sled, with plenty of people to muscle the salvage and a team of Joel's apprentices to run bar codes through their recorders. Where there are bar-code patches left, that is."

Jim groaned just as the obscuring foliage was pushed aside and Betty Musgrave arrived with a laden tray, which she set in the space between them.

"Hi, feel better, Jim? Theo?" she said with none of the forced cheerfulness that Jim would have found egregious.

"He's had a nice long sleep and a nice long—" Theo chuckled as Jim's half growl cut off the rest of her sentence.